Courting Hope

by Jenna Mindel

  No pain, no gain.

  She glanced at her mom, who nodded agreement with her father.

  “We’ve all been through enough heartache, Hope. How can I stand by and let you break your heart for him all over again?”

  He worried for her. Both her parents did. Well, she worried, too, more than they knew.

  Stepping close, she cupped her father’s cheek. “It’s my heart, Daddy. Mine to give away.”

  He ruffled her bangs. “Don’t be in a hurry to give it to Sinclair. He’s ignored your gift too many times. He’s had too many chances.”

  And God help her, but she’d give him one more. “I’m older now, and I’d like to think I’m a little wiser.”

  Ha! Who am I trying to kid?

  “Not when it comes to him. He’s put stars in your eyes since you were fourteen. You’ve never seen him straight.”

  True, all true. “I’ll be careful.”

  Her dad’s eyes softened. “See that you are, or...”

  “Or what?”

  Her father narrowed his eyes. “I might have to break out Grandpa’s old Winchester.”

  The image of her dad taking a shotgun to Sinclair made her laugh out loud. How would Sinclair react if he did? Maybe she’d finally get what she wanted, but not the way she wanted it. “You wouldn’t.”

  Her dad shook his head and gave her a crooked smile. “Just be careful.”

  “I will. I promise.” Hope had never meant anything more.

  But how did she keep her heart safe until she knew Sinclair felt something for her in return? Something real and lasting?

  Commitment had never been a popular word in Sinclair’s vocabulary. He might be different, mature even, but that didn’t mean he was ready to settle down. Or that he’d want to settle down with her.

  No gain, no pain.

  Better to play it safe for everyone’s sake.

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday, Hope went for her usual morning run. Weekends allowed for longer distance than during the week, and she enjoyed every quiet step. Running helped her pray. And sometimes she’d even heard God’s soft whisper of a voice in her heart. He was pretty quiet this morning, though. Maybe her thoughts were too loud.

  The sun peeked over the trees as she turned back onto the road that led home. And a car that looked like Sinclair’s slowed to a stop in front of her. She gritted her teeth. What now?

  He waved and then got out. With folded arms atop the car door, he waited for her to catch up to him. He looked cool and comfy in a pair of loose khaki shorts and a T-shirt.

  She blew out a breath and stopped. Bracing her hands on her knees, she let her heart rate slow down. She’d run harder than normal this morning, and seeing Sinclair had stolen her balance.

  “Hey.” She gulped in air. “What are you up to?”

  “I’m looking at a house. Want to go with me?”

  Sweat trickled down her back as she straightened. “I’m a mess.”

  He reached into the back and then threw her a towel. His eyes took her in, and he smiled. “No, you’re not. Come with me.”

  Hope wiped her face. It smelled fresh, unlike her. Then she rubbed her sweat-soaked hair and draped the terry cloth around her neck. “You always carry a stash of clean towels in your car?”

  “I thought I’d head to the beach for a swim afterward. It’s going to be too hot to work in the orchard.”

  Hope laughed. That sounded like the old Sinclair. He’d do anything to get away from the chores that came with his family’s cherry farm. “How’s this year’s crop coming along?”

  Sinclair shrugged. “Eva and Adam and my dad are giving it everything they’ve got to get ready for harvest. I’ll help with that, but Ryan’s there today. They’ve got enough hands.”

  And that explained why Sinclair wanted out of there. But not his house-hunting plans. She cocked her head. “So you’re looking at houses to rent?”

  “To buy.”

  Leaning her hip against the hood of his car, Hope’s mouth dropped open as she struggled with her surprise. Buying a house was a big commitment. A lasting one. “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  She laughed. That was a typical Sinclair statement. But buying a house meant that he planned to stick around for a long while. Her heart flipped inside her chest, and she clutched at her neck to calm the flutters that stirred up inside.

  “You coming with me or not?” His eyes challenged her to go with him. Dared her even.

  And, like always, she followed. Yeah, she was real good at making decisions. Slipping into his car, she muttered, “Fine, I’ve got to see this house of yours.”

  “There’s bottled water in the cooler on the backseat.” He shifted into gear and tore off down the road.

  While Hope helped herself to the water, Sinclair drove past her house. Not more than a mile beyond her parents’ farmhouse, he pulled into a cute cottage-like home she’d always loved. Worse, she could see it clearly from her bedroom window.

  She turned in her seat. “You’re looking at this house?”

  He winked. “I am.”

  Hope got out and looked around in a daze.

  Mist from the overnight humidity hadn’t burned off yet. Pockets of haze lay in the low areas, including the backyard, making the house look like something out of a fairy tale. The exterior paint was chipped, but she could easily envision it with a fresh coat of sunny yellow. And she’d add white shutters.

  “Cute, huh?” He stood next to her.

  “Yeah.” Why would he look at something so close to where she lived?

  As if he’d read her mind, he answered, “The price is right, and it’s been on the market a long time.”

  Another car pulled into the driveway, and a middle-aged woman got out and extended her hand. “Good morning. You must be Sinclair.” Then she turned to Hope. “And you’re his—”

  “Friend. I’m a friend.” Hope’s cheeks burned as she cut off the most logical guess of who the real estate agent thought she might be. She’d nearly let it slip that she was his secretary.

  “This is Hope Petersen. She lives down the road.” Sinclair covered the awkwardness with a grin. “Shall we?”

  “Definitely.” The agent bid them to follow as she unlocked the door combination and then opened it wide.

  Sinclair gestured for the women to enter first.

  Hope eagerly stepped inside. Hardwoods in need of refinishing covered the first floor and sunlight flooded the living room. She spotted a corner that might be a perfect fit for Grandma Marsh’s piano if Sinclair ended up buying.

  Hope had grown fond of listening to Sinclair’s piano breaks during the week. She looked forward to listening to him play whenever he snuck out of his office to the sanctuary. The tough part was staying at her desk. The temptation to watch him play tugged hard at times.

  Once she had given in and taken Hannah and Grace to listen to him late one afternoon. Sinclair had welcomed the girls onto the piano bench with him and showed them the keys. After he’d taught them “Chopsticks,” his amused gaze had sought hers over the girls’ heads.

  Did he even want kids of his own? He’d always been such a free spirit—family life probably scared him to pieces.

  Shaking off those dangerous thoughts, Hope walked on ahead of the agent, who informed Sinclair about the new energy-efficient windows and why the current owners, now retired, needed to sell. The rooms were bigger than they looked from outside, and windows were everywhere.

  Peeking out the kitchen window that overlooked the backyard, Hope caught sight of a small creek in the distance and asked, “How much land?”

  “Three acres.”

  She glanced at Sinclair, and his smile made her stomach flip. His contemplative expression was hard to read. What w
as going on inside his head?

  Hope hadn’t eaten yet that morning, and her belly responded with a rumble. Forcing a tight lid on her mouth, she didn’t ask any more questions. She continued the tour with quiet observation. This wasn’t her house.

  But every room they entered, Hope pictured it furnished and decorated. Worse, she kept thinking how much she wished this was her house to buy. It needed minor repairs, but with a stone fireplace, the house was downright cozy. Perfect, really. Not too big or too small.

  By the time they’d walked around the property lines, Hope struggled to keep her appreciation from showing. This house had nothing to do with her. But if Sinclair didn’t want it, maybe she could afford to buy it. She’d be close enough to her parents to help out as needed....

  “Can we have a minute?” Sinclair spoke to the agent.

  The woman gave them both a satisfied smile. “I have some calls to make from my car.”

  He turned toward her. “So, what do you think?”

  “Of what?” Hope stalled.

  “The price of tea in China.” He gave her that lopsided grin that made her insides swish all over again. “The house, goofball.”

  “It’s nice.” Why was he asking her?

  He laughed. “Just nice? You seemed pretty excited about it while walking through it.”

  Busted. “Well...yeah, it’s fun to look at empty houses.”

  He narrowed his gaze. Hope kicked a few pebbles in the driveway. She didn’t want him to see past her excuse to the dreams she’d been having about him and her together, forever. “What do you think?”

  “I want it.”

  “Just like that, you want it?” She knew his modest salary. Could he afford it?

  Maybe he had savings. She couldn’t imagine that he’d spent much money in Haiti, but he’d shelled out a pretty hefty support check the other day.

  It was none of her business what he did with his money. But he had a history of being impulsive. “Don’t you want to look around a little more?”

  “I’ve already looked at a few, and I want this one. It’s close to the church and not too far from Eva’s.”

  And me...

  “It feels right.” He grinned. “I’m going to make an offer and see what happens.”

  Her dad had called Sinclair reckless, but that’s not what scared her. This house did feel right. But what if he got together with someone else and married? He’d be right down the street. Could she handle that?

  A chill took hold of her, despite the sun’s heat warming her back. She really needed a shower and a little distance. “I’m going home so you can take care of business.”

  He stepped closer. “You could stick around and catch anything I might miss. I’ve never bought a house before.”

  No way would she sit there like they were a couple. She patted his arm. “Neither have I. You’re on your own with this one.”

  “Thanks a lot.” His grin coaxed her to stay.

  But she wouldn’t. Not this time. Hope gave him a pert wave and headed up toward the road that led home before she could change her mind.

  Walking along the quiet country road, doubts wormed into her thoughts. Was he truly settling down, or was moving out his way of not dealing with Ryan? She prayed Sinclair wasn’t running again.

  * * *

  Sinclair made his offer with the real estate agent. If accepted, he’d get a home inspection done to make sure the place was sound. It needed work, but he’d enjoy taking his time getting it ready before moving in. Maybe he’d ask Ryan to help, if his brother could spare some time away from his own home renovations. Ryan was good at that sort of thing.

  Coming home after being away so long, he was taken by surprise by the strong urge to leave the farmhouse of his childhood. He’d never wanted to get away from his family before, just the orchard and the chores that came with it.

  All Sinclair knew was that he craved privacy and a place to call his own. If he wanted to sit on the back porch and stare at trees for an hour, there’d be no one to ask him why he was doing that or what was wrong.

  He loved his family, but his mom’s constant concern and his dad’s digging questions about the past three years were beginning to wear on him. He’d told so many stories about his time in Haiti, but some of the things he’d seen didn’t bear thinking about, much less repeating.

  After he’d finished up with the real estate agent, Sinclair slowed down as he drove near Hope’s house and pulled into the driveway. Yeah, Hope had a lot to do with his desire to buy that house. Her eyes had lit up as she’d taken in every nook and cranny. She’d touched the staircase’s hardwood railing and dipped her fingers in the creek running along the property line with something close to reverence, or desire. Her reactions seemed to confirm his decision.

  He spotted Hope in her backyard hanging bedsheets on the clothesline. The breeze pressed the fabric against her, and the sight stopped him from getting out of the car. With her wet hair slicked back and the faded yellow sundress she wore, Hope could have walked out of a picture from his grandmother’s ancient photo album.

  Hazy sunshine shone around her, making her look incredibly feminine. And inviting. Like coming home to a freshly baked apple pie on the kitchen table.

  He’d met Hope in youth group when he was fifteen and she was only fourteen. He’d often wondered what thoughts rolled inside that composed head of hers. Always composed while he told her everything about his out-of-control teenaged life. He might not have admitted it back then, but she’d been one of his best friends. Hope was more than part of his history, she was part of who he’d become.

  He wanted her in his future.

  The Petersens’ dog, Gypsy, broke the spell by announcing his presence with a high-pitched bark.

  Hope turned and frowned when she saw him.

  Sinclair got out, bent down and petted Gypsy’s head. “You’re a good dog, but you’ve got a big mouth.”

  The dog inched closer and sat on his foot, giving him a canine smile with her tongue hanging out.

  Sinclair spotted bare feet in front of him and looked up into Hope’s pretty gray eyes.

  “How’d it go?”

  He straightened, but the dog stayed put, her tail thumping on the ground. “I made an offer, and she’ll let me know when she hears back from the sellers.”

  “So what are you doing here?”

  “Are your parents around?”

  Her brow furrowed even deeper. “My mom’s out riding, and my dad’s in town picking up feed. What’s up?”

  “Thought I’d invite them to the church picnic.”

  “I told them about it.”

  “What’d they say?” He wanted to ask them in person. It felt like the right thing to do.

  She shrugged.

  “Sinclair!” Hope’s mom waved from atop a horse. She slipped out of the saddle and walked forward. Gypsy ran to her side. “What brings you here on a Saturday?”

  He smiled at the surprised but not unwelcome tone in her voice. Watching the horse amble across the yard, he pointed. “Ah, he’s getting away.”

  Teresa Petersen waved off his concern. “He’s fine. He wants the tall grass.”

  True to her word, the horse stopped at the edge of the mowed lawn to munch the knee-high thick grass.

  “Do you still ride?” Teresa’s question sounded close to an invitation.

  He glanced at Hope. “Not since I went with your daughter years ago.”

  “She doesn’t ride much these days.” Teresa didn’t hide her disappointment.

  Before Hope could rebuff her mom’s words, Sinclair added, “The church keeps her pretty busy, which is why I’m here. I was hoping that you and Mr. Petersen might consider coming to our Fourth of July picnic in LeNaro at the park. After the parade, we’re serving hot
dogs and burgers up until the fireworks.”

  He jerked his head toward Hope. “It’d mean a lot if you came.”

  Teresa looked from her daughter back to him. “We’ll think about it. I better get Dusty to the barn and put away his tack. Thanks for the invite.”

  “You’re welcome.” Sinclair turned toward Hope.

  “You had to do that, didn’t you?” She didn’t look annoyed. Composed as usual, her expression was hard to read.

  Man, he wanted to ask her out. But he couldn’t date Hope without her parents’ approval. Earning that approval took on a whole new urgency. “I had to.”

  “Don’t expect much.”

  “Never do.” He smiled.

  She shook her head. “That’s a crock, and you know it.”

  True, he expected to get everything he wanted, even if he knew better. Life might not always work out the way a person wanted it to, but he wasn’t giving up. Not by a long shot. “Come to the beach with me.”

  Panic flew across Hope’s face. “Can’t.”

  He wouldn’t press her by asking why. Besides, he shouldn’t have asked. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  “Yup. See you in the morning.”

  The relief he detected in her eyes stung his pride. A guy could use a little encouragement.

  * * *

  Sunday morning, Hope noticed several new faces in the pews, including a Mexican family with three small children. Because she had never seen them before, she figured they might be migrant workers here for the summer.

  At greeting time, she approached them with an extended hand. “Hi, my name’s Hope.”

  After accepting her handshake, the father pointed to his chest. “Carlos.” Then he gestured toward his lovely wife. who had dark skin and eyes. “Bonita.”

  They were a pleasant-looking family. The kids were all smiling. The oldest two looked to be around seven and eight, and each one had a different missing front tooth.