Rich in Faith (Richness in Faith, Book 3)

by Peterson, Lindi

  He looks up and nods, heading in the opposite direction. I start up Court’s driveway, slowing as I approach the house. I can’t wait to take a nice, cool shower.

  Wiping the sweat-tear mixture off my face, I push my visor and it falls to the ground. As I bend down to pick it up, I turn and see the guy from next door has stopped and is staring at me.

  He waves, then starts his run.

  I half-wave back, not that keen on showing a friendly gesture to someone I don’t even know. But if he lives in one of these million-dollar mansions, I guess he’s okay.

  I walk into the house, the cold air causing chill bumps the second I step through the door. Walking down the hall to the kitchen, I’m still breathing hard and know I need to cool down.

  “That doesn’t look like fun at all.”

  Court’s voice makes me jump. He’s standing in the kitchen, a cup in his hand. My shirt sticks to my body, I know my face is flushed, and my eyes are probably puffy from crying.

  Good thing Barb isn’t matchmaking.

  “Coffee?” he asks, raising his cup in the air.

  “Ooh, no. I’m going to shower.”

  He finishes his coffee and sets his cup in the sink. “I didn’t know you were a runner. I was about to leave. That wouldn’t have been good. Mrs. Stratton doesn’t arrive until seven.”

  I glance at my watch again. Six forty-five. “Do you always leave this early?”

  “I do. Actually I’m late. I usually leave at six-thirty. I try to beat my assistant, Susan, in. But if you want to run, I can adjust.”

  It’s a good thing I’m used to long hours. Sounds like his assistant works long hours as well. “It’s really muggy out there. I’m going to try for five tomorrow.”

  “All right. I’ll make sure you’re back before I leave.”

  I want to look away from him. I really do. Everything about him reminds me of the life I left behind. His light-blue button-up shirt tucked into gray slacks make me long for the office environment. I keep my eyes open, trying to imprint Court’s image in my brain in an attempt to erase Dale’s.

  As I fail at that, I remember the neighbor. “I saw your neighbor this morning. He waved at me. He’s a runner, too, I guess.”

  “I don’t know my neighbors.”

  That statement is curt and abrupt. “Oh. He waved, so I just thought…”

  “They always wave when we see them.”

  “They?”

  “The guy next door. He’s always with a blonde gal. Not sure if they’re married or what. I gotta run. See you tonight.”

  He blows past me, his clean scent mixing it up with my sweaty scent. I hear the rumblings of the garage door opening, then moments later it shuts. Mrs. Stratton won’t be here for fifteen minutes.

  I wonder what time the girls wake up.

  Because that’s how long I have until this place becomes a madhouse.

  MIRRORS

  “WHAT DO THE girls normally do during the day?”

  Clean and now in need of a cup of that coffee Court had offered earlier, I sip the coffee as Mrs. Stratton prepares breakfast. Court had given me the keys to his second car to use while I am Nannying. Maybe the girls would like to go to the beach.

  Cracking an egg on the edge of a bowl using only one hand, Mrs. Stratton doesn’t look up. “I try and stay out of their way as much as possible.”

  I set my cup on the counter top and sit on a bar stool in front of my laptop. “Do you know if they are on any type of schedule?”

  She chuckles. “From what I can gather, schedule is a forbidden word in this house. The deceased Mrs. Treyhune, God rest her soul, was against schedules. It’s my understanding that even when she homeschooled them, they weren’t on a schedule.”

  Homeschooling? That would be a project.

  My inexperience with children is not helping at this point. I’m out of my comfort zone in a mighty way. “Maybe I can begin as if I were tackling a new project. That I have experience with.”

  “Uh huh.” Mrs. Stratton whisks the eggs in the bowl.

  “Hey. It could work. Define the goal then lay out the steps to achieve said goal.”

  “You do that.”

  Her tone and lack of facial communication clearly state her position. She thinks I’m crazy.

  She may not be far off in her thinking, but that only increases my desire to prove her wrong.

  I will admit that this whole scenario has the potential to take my mind off Dale and my broken heart. I haven’t thought of him in at least fifteen minutes.

  “She’s still here.”

  The twins walk into the kitchen. Glancing down at their wrists I see that it is Bristol who makes that comment.

  “I’m glad she’s here. I like her.” Darling smiles my way, and my heart warms a little.

  “Pull up a stool girls. Your breakfast is almost ready.” Mrs. Stratton’s focus stays on her task at hand as the girls shimmy their way onto the bar stools. Neither one of them sits directly next to me.

  No, they sit where they can stare at me. Which is what they are doing, their brown eyes wide and questioning.

  Their hair is still a mess.

  Mrs. Stratton places two glasses of orange juice on the counter. They drink it quickly. She slides a plate in front of each of them before refilling their juice.

  Mrs. Stratton then places a plate next to my computer. “Would you like some juice, too?”

  “The coffee’s good. Thank you.”

  “Are you going to play on your computer all day?” Bristol’s tone is challenging.

  “I’m not playing. I’m working.”

  “Your work is being a babysitter for us. You don’t do that on a computer.”

  It’s obvious Bristol starts her day in challenge mode. It’s a good thing I’m always up for a good challenge. “There are things relating to the nanny position I can do on the computer.”

  She frowns. “It’s just a reason not to pay attention to us.”

  “Yeah.” Darling’s chiming in leads me to believe Bristol is in charge of these two.

  “Wrong. Working on the computer is actually going to allow me to spend more time with you.”

  I take a bite of my yummy eggs. One thing is for sure. I’m going to eat well here.

  The silence of us all eating is broken by the sound of the garage door opening. Now Mrs. Stratton turns to me with a puzzled expression.

  Listening carefully, I don’t hear the door go back down, but I do hear footsteps as they come down the hall. They’re strong, and they’re moving at a fast pace.

  Court walks into the kitchen.

  “Daddy!” Both girls scream his name and practically fall off their stools trying to reach him. They embrace him, hugging him tight.

  Mrs. Stratton steps closer to me, like we are united or something. I have no idea what is going on, but it’s obvious Daddy being here during the day isn’t a normal occurrence.

  While his arms wrap around his girls, I see concern on his face. Something is wrong.

  “Daddy, Daddy.” The girls are jumping, clapping their hands. “Are you going to stay home with us today?”

  “Girls. I’m excited to see you too. But I need to talk to Mrs. Stratton and Shelby, okay? Can you get dressed? Also, pull out those suitcases Grandma and Grandpa gave you for Christmas.”

  “Are we going on a trip?” Team Twin’s eyes are hopeful as Bristol speaks.

  “It’s a surprise. Now go.”

  The girls squeal as they run down the hall.

  I can’t believe the ping of disappointment I’m feeling. Not on this crazy job twelve hours and Court is taking the kids on a trip?

  Leaving me with nothing to do? I wonder how long they’ll be gone and if I’m going to get paid.

  Court watches the girls flee the kitchen. Only then does he turn toward Mrs. Stratton and me. As he runs his hand through his thick, black hair, I see the distraught expression on his face.

  “My father had a heart attack.”

  As
he speaks the words about his father, images of my father come into my mind. I can’t imagine how my father is taking this news. He’s been a fan of Cal Treyhune before I was even thought of.

  “Is he…” Mrs. Stratton asks the question I don’t want to ask.

  “He’s alive.” Court’s voice is soft. “I don’t want to tell the girls right now. But we need to go to North Carolina. Storm’s sending the plane. We’re scheduled to leave at one.”

  “I can help the girls pack.” I slide off the stool, grabbing my coffee.

  “You need to pack for yourself too.”

  I set my coffee back on the counter. “What?”

  “I need you to come with us. I’m going to have to focus on my father.”

  My business brain starts working. Logically. Rationally. “Why don’t I stay here with the girls? Then you can truly focus on your father.”

  “My mom specifically asked for the twins to come. She said she knows Dad will want to see them when he, when he…”

  He doesn’t finish his sentence, but stalks out of the room.

  Looks like I’m going to North Carolina.

  “GIRLS, GIRLS, SETTLE down. It’s just a car.”

  But it’s really not just a car. It’s a limo. A luxurious limo, one I would have given anything to ride in when I was their age.

  I secure Darling’s seat belt, before clicking my own into place. Team Twin act like they’ve never been on a trip before.

  Maybe they haven’t. I have no idea. But my guess is they’re not strangers to traveling.

  Even though Court is in the limo, he’s miles away. The girls are too young to discern the pain on his face, but I can see it.

  It mirrors my heart.

  When he’s not staring out of the window, he’s texting or talking on his phone. Talking in hushed tones so the girls don’t hear.

  But I do.

  I learn Storm is Cal’s right-hand man. Used to be his crew chief back in the glory days. It seems Storm and Cal Treyhune were bass fishing when Cal had his heart attack. He’s in a regional hospital in the northern part of North Carolina.

  The drive to the airport doesn’t take long. The driver opens the door and Court motions for me to go first as he helps the girls unbuckle their seatbelts.

  I step out of the limo to flashes and questions. “How’s Cal? Have you talked to him?”

  The questions and flashes stop as murmurs of “who’s that?” mumble through the throng of paparazzi that would surround the car if the metal barricades hadn’t been set up.

  Bristol exits the car, Darling right behind her. Flashes start going off and increase if possible as Court steps out of the car. He doesn’t say anything as he scoops all three of us in front of him. “Just walk and don’t say anything,” he says.

  We make it into the small airport. Within minutes we are on the plane. Having never been in a private plane before, I would, under normal circumstances, be enamored by all the luxury surrounding me. I’ve dreamed of being in the midst of such grandness. But I want the grandness to belong to me. I don’t want to be employed by the grandness.

  At least I can set a standard now of what I would need in a private plane were I to ever own one.

  The girls are settling into their seats, excited to be on the plane. They each want their own seat, so Court and I take the bench seat.

  “Any more news?” I whisper so the girls don’t hear. Although, in my opinion, if a similar group of paparazzi are going to descend on us at the North Carolina airport, he needs to say something to them.

  “No. Still the same.”

  “When are you going to tell the girls?”

  He shuts his phone off. When he looks at me, I ache with the pain I see in his eyes.

  “Before we land.”

  “Daddy, why aren’t you flying the plane?” Bristol asks.

  Court snaps his seat belt. “Because Mr. Murdock is the pilot today.”

  “I like it when you fly, Daddy.” Darling shrugs her shoulders as she smiles.

  So yes, they’ve been on trips.

  As soon as we are in the air, the girls occupy themselves with their electronic devices.

  Court settles in the seat, his head resting against the back of the soft, tan leather. His eyes close, showcasing his long dark lashes. I take this opportunity, while no one is paying me any attention, to study this man.

  His hair is black, clipped short in the back. Professional looking, while his lips look soft, reminding me of a petal on one of Mama’s roses. His closely shaven face isn’t very tan, an indication he spends a lot of time indoors.

  While his outward appearance says peace, I sense the inner turmoil coursing through him.

  I know I would feel the same way if I received a call telling me my father had a heart attack.

  “Are you done looking at me?”

  I jump as he turns toward me. My face heats. Caught perusing the features of the handsome Court Treyhune.

  In detail no less.

  “I wish I could tell you everything is going to be all right.” As I try to change the subject by shifting the focus to his internal struggles, I scoot to my left after speaking, trying to put as much distance between us as I can. Wearing these seatbelts doesn’t help.

  He focuses his gaze on me, his eyes revealing nothing about his soul. His dark pools remind me of a wall, one that took years to build.

  “That’s a first.”

  “A first?” I ask, surprised by the softness of his tone, after the coldness in his eyes.

  He shakes his head slightly, his lips tampering a smirk. “Most people speak empty promises.”

  The distance between us seems to have shrunk instead of widen. Unless I adjust my seatbelt, I can’t move farther away. Somehow, I don’t think that it would matter. “Maybe I’m not most people.”

  “Maybe. We’ll see, won’t we?”

  THE REST OF THE flight is uneventful. On the surface, that is. I have many questions warring within me. Court has taken this time to shut his eyes and apparently relax a little. The girls have been watching a movie.

  Which left me time to think about the crazy that has happened in the last twenty-four hours.

  While I’ve always wanted luxuries like flying on a private plane, I’ve never envisioned riding on one with one of racing’s greatest. Or rather the son of one of racing’s greatest.

  And now, racing’s greatest is in a hospital in the northern parts of North Carolina fighting for his life.

  Court straightens and stretches. My eyes widen and gawk. I’ll admit he’s eye candy at its finest. Extra sweet. But oh, the issues.

  And the heartbreak.

  And the twins.

  They have been good on this flight. I wonder if somehow they sense their father’s sadness.

  Court unfastens his seatbelt and breaches the short space between us and the girls. He taps Bristol and motions for them to take their headphones off.

  After a bit of whining about how the movie is almost over, they do as he says.

  As we start our descent, Court starts his explanation about Cal’s, Grandpa Cal’s, heart attack.

  “Is Grandpa going to be all right?” Bristol asks.

  Court’s struggle to answer is obvious. I remember his words about empty promises.

  What kind of promise, if any, is he going to make to his daughters?

  MERCY

  “HE IS GOING TO be all right, isn’t he, Daddy? He’s not going to die like Mommy, is he?” Darling’s plea tugs at my heart, and I’ve just met this child. I can’t imagine what is going through Court’s heart.

  Court starts to speak, then stops, his struggle evident.

  “I bet your Grandpa can’t wait to see you,” I offer, attempting to give Court some time.

  The girls smile. I should have used this down time on the plane to brush and untangle their hair instead of Court-gazing. I possess mad skills in French braiding and creating cute buns that my hairdresser friend, Lana, taught me.

  The h
air will have to wait.

  I’m not sure if Court is going to say more, but the wheels of the plane hit the runway, taking the focus off the conversation and putting it on the next leg of the journey.

  As we exit the plane, I quickly discern the difference between being somebody important and somebody unimportant.

  The details.

  We don’t have to worry about retrieving our luggage, or renting a car. We simply walk off of the plane to a waiting SUV, the luggage already loaded into the back.

  We are each given a bottle of chilled water as well.

  I must admit it’s nice traveling with the important.

  The girls fall asleep in the car as we drive. We turn off the main road, and traverse some winding, often one-lane, back roads. The trees are thick, the signs of human life scattered sparsely throughout.

  A small sign welcomes us to Bear’s Cave, North Carolina.

  “Bear’s Cave?” I realize I speak my question out loud.

  “Yeah. Dad’s had a place here for a long time. Quiet, secluded. Good fishing.”

  “And bears?”

  Court keeps his eyes on the road. “I’ve never seen any.”

  That answer doesn’t totally comfort me. “It must be called Bear’s Cave for a reason.”

  “Maybe because it’s surrounded by the dark forest. Cave-like.”

  I like how he takes the focus off the bear aspect. “You’ve obviously been here before.”

  He continues to keep his gaze on the road, but the blinking of his long, dark lashes doesn’t escape my notice.

  “Many times. It’s Dad’s home away from home. He and Storm come here a lot.”

  “So, it’s more like a man cave than a bear cave.”

  The corner of his mouth turns up, but refuses to go full smile. “Guess so.”

  Court turns into a driveway and we travel up a slight incline, the gravelly dirt crunching under the tires.

  “We’re here.” The sound of Team Twin’s voices brings an air of exuberance to the otherwise somber atmosphere.

  The click of seatbelts unfastening is followed by the girls singing, “We’re gonna see Grandpa Cal. We’re gonna see Grandpa Cal.”

  Court turns off the SUV and twists his body as best he can in the car to face Bristol and Darling in the back seat. “Girls. Grandpa Cal isn’t here. Remember, he’s in the hospital.”