Finding His Way Home

by Mia Ross

While he was considering how that might work, Paul climbed up a couple steps on the main staircase and hollered for everyone’s attention. Once they were all focused on him, he held out a hand and brought Chelsea up to join him. Looking out at all those expectant faces, his expression suddenly went blank, and he seemed to forget what he wanted to say. He whispered something to his wife, and she put an arm around him in a comforting gesture.

  “Paul and I want you all to be the first to know we’re expecting a baby in November. Before you ask, we won’t know the gender, but if it’s a boy, he’ll be named William Henry. It’s a wonderful name,” she added, wrapping her other arm around Paul. “But it still makes us sad that Will won’t be here to meet his new great-grandchild.”

  “To Granddad,” Jason called out, raising his lemonade in a toast. “And another kid to buy toys for this Christmas.”

  They all echoed the sentiment, buzzing with questions and good wishes while they buried the happy couple in hugs and back slaps. Swept up in the tide of excitement, Scott found he shared in it wholeheartedly. Each embrace and whispered “Welcome home” bolstered his ego a little more, until he genuinely felt a part of the good things coming down the road for the Barrett clan.

  Once the chaos died down, an even happier sound resonated from the kitchen: Gram’s dinner bell. They all knew what that meant, and they trooped in to find the counters filled with dishes all prepared by the woman who knew everyone’s favorites and made sure to include them on the menu.

  When she lifted the cover off one of the roast pans, the rich aroma was enough to make Scott’s stomach rumble in anticipation. She carved off a thick slice and made a show of handing it across to him, adding potatoes and carrots until he cut her off with a laugh. “Are these my leftovers, too?”

  “Oh, no,” she assured him with a wink. “There’s another one in the fridge for you to take home with you. After you split it with Jenna, of course.”

  “Of course,” he agreed, smiling at the guest who seemed more like a member of the family. “I’ll try to be fair about it.”

  “Not a problem. Just remember if you stiff me, I know where you live.”

  Her sassy comeback made them both laugh, and they continued their wry back-and-forth while they filled their plates and took them out to the front porch. They chatted easily while they ate, as if they’d known each other forever. Other people joined them now and then, adding their own color to the discussion before wandering off to find someone else to talk to.

  It reminded him of countless picnics over the years, and Scott felt more at home by the minute. By the time he’d had his second piece of blackberry pie, he couldn’t remember why he’d been so worried about this evening. It seemed silly now that he was here and having such a great time with everyone.

  When he confided his impressions to Jenna, she gave him yet another understanding smile. “That’s wonderful, Scott. Good for you.”

  “Yeah, it is, especially since restoring that old property will take me a while. I’m still not sure about the Uncle Scott thing, though. I haven’t been around kids much, so it’s kinda weird to think of myself that way.”

  After dipping her finger in whipped cream, she tapped his nose with it. “Does that help?”

  Not really, he wanted to grumble, but stopped himself. Normally, he wasn’t thrilled about being mocked, but the delight sparkling in her eyes nudged him to loosen up and go along with her game. Wiping off the cream, he popped his finger into his mouth and nodded. “Not bad.”

  “The whipped cream or me?”

  She gave him a playful look that brought to mind when she’d asked something similar during their first meeting in the cemetery. This time, he answered her without a second thought. “Both.”

  Chapter Seven

  On her way to church that Sunday, Jenna came to an intersection she’d navigated many times. One road led into town, the other out toward the sawmill and the acres of unspoiled forest that still surrounded it. Pausing, she tapped the steering wheel with her finger and debated which way to go.

  She’d spent quite a bit of time with Scott this week, and she’d gotten a pretty good feel for where he was coming from. And where he wanted to go. The trouble as she saw it was that he didn’t have the confidence to move beyond the longing stage and make it into his reality. Being a creative person at heart, she’d confronted obstacles all her life, both practical and personal. If you put some effort into it, you usually could find a way around the pragmatic issues. It was the personal ones that prevented you from realizing your full potential.

  Looking up into the clear sky, she said, “Well, what do You think?”

  Just then, a red-tailed hawk appeared overhead, banking to the west on its way to the creek for breakfast. Taking that as her answer, she cranked the wheel and headed for the old Barrett homestead. If its new owner was there, she’d take that as confirmation that what she had in mind was the right thing to do. If not, she’d try again another time. For all his rough edges, she was convinced Scott was hiding a good heart under all that bluster. If he could just bring himself to let it show, his life would be better for it.

  When she pulled in, his truck was parked in its usual spot under the oak that probably had been there since before the town existed. Remembering his warning about the front steps, she circled around back and found him sitting on the stoop, munching on a bagel. In between bites, he took a piece of crumbling concrete from the pile beside him and flung it into the creek. Judging by his lazy, steady rhythm, he’d been at it awhile.

  Suddenly, her idea of dragging him to church struck her as incredibly unwise, and she hesitated. Then again, her van wasn’t exactly a stealth vehicle, so he probably already knew she was here. So she gathered her courage and strolled over as if she had all the confidence in the world. “Four skips. Not bad.”

  “My record’s seven,” he told her through a mouthful of bagel. “I’ve been trying to match it for the last half hour.”

  “Seems like a nice Sunday-morning thing to do.”

  “Yup.”

  He didn’t look at her, which clearly meant he wasn’t thrilled to have company right now. Since she’d come this far, though, it seemed foolish to mutter a goodbye and slink away as if she’d done something wrong. Humor seemed to work best with him, so she settled on the step beside him and kept it light. “You know another nice Sunday-morning thing to do?”

  His dark eyes roamed over her, and he gave her a tight smile. “Seeing as you’re dressed for church, I’m thinking that’s it.”

  “Uh-huh. What do you say?”

  He finished off his breakfast in a single bite, chewing while he considered her question. That he hadn’t flat-out refused was a good sign, she thought, but she’d learned that it could be hard to tell with him. He was adept at hiding everything except what he wanted her to see.

  “Can I ask you a question first?” When she nodded, he went on. “Why do you care so much?”

  She wasn’t sure how to answer that, but the perfect response popped into her head. “Because I do. It’s like the chapel, with the window sitting in between those walls, forgotten all this time. Everyone wrote that place off years ago, but I see the potential it has to be beautiful again. That’s why I want to be part of bringing it back to the way it used to be.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” Scott confided in a voice filled with regret. “A lotta folks wrote me off years ago, too.”

  Resting her hand on his arm, she waited for him to look at her. “It’s never easy to see what’s beneath the surface. Fortunately for you, I have a pretty keen eye for stuff like that,” she added with an encouraging smile.

  He didn’t respond, but gave her a long, assessing look she couldn’t have read if she’d tried. Reminding herself that what he needed most from her was patience, she endured his scrutiny as graciously as she could, praying for h
im to come around and see her point. She might not get another chance at this, and she desperately wanted to make it work.

  After what felt like forever, he patted her hand and got to his feet. “Guess I’d better go get cleaned up. Mom’d kill me if I showed up for one of Pastor Griggs’s sermons looking like this.”

  Stunned by his decision, Jenna did her best to appear as if she’d expected him to make that choice all along. “Sounds good. Do you mind if I go poke around in the chapel a little?”

  “Knock yourself out. Not literally,” he amended quickly. “There’s a hard hat hanging by the door. I don’t trust the roof yet, so put that on before you go inside.”

  She really didn’t think it would cave in on her, but his concern for her safety was sweet. “I will. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He gave her a quizzical look, then shook his head and went inside the house. The man was a riddle wrapped in a maze, she thought as she crossed the overgrown yard and did a tightrope routine up the fresh stringers waiting for the new steps he obviously meant to put in. They weren’t the only improvements he’d made since she’d last been here, and now she understood why he’d run out of materials.

  The rotted floorboards were all gone, replaced by a run of fresh lumber that felt much more solid underfoot. The hard hat Scott had mentioned was on a nail by the door, and she smiled at the sight of order amid all the chaos. Plunking it on her head, she fastened the strap before moving farther inside to inspect his progress. The sanctuary was cozy by modern standards, and she could easily envision a small group of settlers gathering here long ago to worship together before returning to their homes for a midday meal.

  The missing side windows had been replaced by boards, so she had no idea what they might have looked like. Logic suggested they would have opened up wide to allow the cooling breezes to come through during the hot Virginia summers. Not to mention the scent of honeysuckles, she thought with a smile. Back then, it must have been peaceful and pleasant in here, the ideal environment for religious services. At the rate Scott’s work was progressing, by fall it would be that way again.

  Sadly, she’d probably be long gone by then. She’d known that when she’d taken on the window restoration, but it hadn’t bothered her to know she wouldn’t see the end result. She’d been content to do her part out of respect for Will and then be on her way.

  But now she felt differently about it. She wanted to see the window in its rightful place, with sunshine flowing through it into the forgotten church Scott was so determined to save. For the first time in her nomadic career, she felt her plans to leave and join the summer art season begin to waver.

  “So, whattya think?”

  Scott’s voice broke into her brooding. When she turned to answer him, her compliment died in the back of her throat. Freshly scrubbed and dressed in navy trousers, she barely recognized him. The crisp white shirt and pale blue tie set off his dark looks perfectly, muting the dangerous vibe he carried with him. When she realized she was staring at him like a goofy teenager with a crush, she gave herself a mental shake to get her brain working again.

  “I think you look respectable.” Giving him another once-over, she couldn’t help adding a wink. “Almost.”

  He laughed, and she noticed that it appeared to come more naturally to him every time he did it. “Cool. That’s the effect I was going for.” Glancing around, he came back to her with a raised brow. “How ’bout the chapel, though?”

  This time she was ready, and she smiled. “It looks hopeful, like the place is happy to know someone cares about it again.”

  Groaning, he looked at her as if she’d sprouted an extra set of arms. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those everything-has-a-spirit types.”

  “No, but this place is definitely special. It might be a wreck, but it’s still God’s house. Will understood that, and he was counting on you to get it, too.”

  Judging by his skeptical expression, Scott wasn’t quite on board yet, but her faith in him was growing by the day. She had no doubt he’d get there. Eventually. Because she hated feeling chained to any kind of a schedule, she didn’t wear a watch, but she sensed it was getting late. “So, are you ready to head out?”

  In reply, he stepped back and motioned for her to go in front of him. Near the door, she stopped to hang the hat back on its nail. When she started to jump down, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Hang on a sec.”

  Swinging down, he held out his arms for her. Ordinarily, she’d refuse such a gesture on principle. Far from a helpless damsel in distress, she was a fairly athletic woman who routinely managed more difficult leaps than this one. Just as she was about to point that out to him, something made her stop.

  It was his face, turned up to her expectantly, waiting for her to follow him down. He’d all but isolated himself out here on the edge of town, keeping his head down and working hard all day, every day. If it made him feel good to play the knight just this once, who was she to spoil that for him?

  So she went along, and in a moment she was standing with him, his hands resting lightly on her waist. Framed by sunlight, he looked far less gloomy than he had when she’d first met him in the cemetery. When he smiled down at her, she had to fight off an admiring feminine sigh.

  “Okay?” he asked. When she nodded, he backed away and began walking toward her van. “We’ll have to take your van. I wasn’t kidding about the truck being dead.”

  Just like that, their nice moment was over, and she laughed at her own foolishness. “That’s fine. Do you want to drive?” she asked as he opened the driver’s door.

  “Your van, you drive.”

  While he waited for her to catch up, she marveled at how he could be so old-fashioned and modern at the same time. Other guys she’d known had felt biologically compelled to drive, no matter whose vehicle they happened to be in. Just another thing that made Scott different from, well, all of them.

  It was a quick trip into town. As she turned onto Main Street, it occurred to her that he’d been all but silent on the way there. “Nervous?”

  “Kinda. Folks aren’t always glad to see me these days.”

  “Give them time,” she advised while she angled into a parking spot. “Most of them will come around, and the ones that don’t aren’t worth losing any sleep over.”

  Turning to her, he met her impromptu pep talk with a muted version of his usual grin. “Thanks.”

  “For?”

  “Not telling me how I should feel. My family means well, but they keep saying I need to keep my chin up, walk proud, stuff like that. It’s not as easy as that.”

  “I know.” Hoping to reassure him, she reached over and rubbed his shoulder. “But it’ll get better.”

  A little boy’s hope shone in those dark, pensive eyes. “Promise?”

  “Promise.” He stared out the windshield at the line of people going up the walk and into the Crossroads Church. Generations of his family had done the same, she realized. She couldn’t imagine how awful it must be for him to believe he no longer had a place there. Before he could lose his nerve, she shook his arm. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be. You sit in the back, right?” he asked as they left the van.

  She heard the uncertainty in his voice and decided it was best to steer away from what was causing it. “Trust me, everyone else appreciates me not singing in their ears.”

  “What about me?”

  “You’re more than welcome to move if you want to. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

  Laughing quietly, he said, “That’s okay, but I’m wondering why you like singing when you’re so bad at it.”

  “You don’t have to be good at something to enjoy it,” she reasoned.

  “I do.”

  She had no trouble believing that, and she shrugged. “I guess you and I are
different that way.”

  That got her a long, penetrating look that would have creeped her out just a few days ago. Now she understood it was his way of assessing someone, trying to decide if they deserved any more of his time. It was the same look that had freaked out Alan Pullman the other day in the hardware store, but somewhere along the line she’d gotten used to it. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

  “We’re different in a lot of ways,” Scott finally murmured as they entered the sanctuary.

  The personal observation was so unlike him, it caught her off guard. They took their seats on the end of the last row, and she offered him a hymnal. Hoping to keep him talking, she asked, “Really? What ways?”

  “Well, there’s the boy-girl thing,” he replied with a wicked grin that had absolutely no business showing itself in a church.

  Struggling not to laugh, she scowled at him. “That’s so not funny.”

  Her disapproval didn’t seem to faze him in the least. In fact, the grin deepened, and he leaned closer to whisper, “You can glare at me all you want, Rembrandt. Those pretty eyes of yours are smiling.”

  Jenna suspected that if she didn’t nip this in the bud, they’d end up ruining Pastor Griggs’s service for everyone around them. So she focused on the hymn board as if her life depended on memorizing the order of the songs for today.

  Of course, that he’d called her by the name of her favorite artist had nothing to do with her baffling reaction to Scott Barrett. Nothing at all.

  * * *

  Scott hadn’t expected it to be easy, coming back to church after so many years away. For once, he was right.

  While everyone chatted with their neighbors, he appreciated Jenna’s efforts to distract him from the sidelong glances and whispers clearly aimed in his direction. To his surprise, though, some folks offered tentative smiles, and the braver ones actually nodded at him in support. Apparently, they shared her opinion that he actually belonged here. He only wished he could say the same.

  The Crossroads Church was where he’d learned his Bible verses as a child, singing “Jesus Loves Me” and embracing the faith that had sustained his family for generations. While he listened to the pastor speak about the importance of forgiveness, some of the words stuck with him longer than others, and his thoughts gradually drifted away from the sermon. It had been a long time since he’d contemplated his relationship with God, but now he couldn’t seem to stop himself.