Awakening

by JoAnn Durgin

  Sensing he watched, Lexa turned. Sure enough, Sam peered at her from behind the car. His eyes narrowed, and he grunted. “If you’re looking for another ride, it’s not gonna happen out here on this road. Afraid you’d be standing there a few days without seeing another soul. I’ve changed enough tires on this car that I can do it in my sleep. I’ll get us on the road again soon enough.”

  He looked pretty sweaty. Maybe she should fan him or something. Hoping it wouldn’t disturb his work, Lexa opened the back door and plucked the police union newsletter from the outside pocket of her suitcase. It was already coming in quite handy on this trip. She moved over to Sam and feverishly fanned the top of his bent head. Whoosh!

  His hands paused their work, and Sam glanced up at her. “I appreciate your efforts to keep me cool, but it’s pretty much a lost cause at this point. What I need most now is the tire iron. It’s in the toolbox in the back.” One brow raised and he swiped a hand across his forehead. “Interesting reading material. Are you an undercover cop in your spare time?” Sam’s tone was teasing and implied he didn’t believe it for a second.

  “My dad was.” Lexa folded and tucked the newsletter in her pocket. Poking around in the toolbox a few seconds later, she hoped she’d recognize the tire iron. If only her dad allowed her to help with his projects, maybe she’d know what it looked like. It wasn’t like they routinely taught girls these things in school.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Lexa peeked around the corner of the car. “Um, which thing is the tire iron, exactly?”

  “I’ll get it.” Removing the hub cap, Sam lowered it to the ground. Rising to his imposing height, he dusted his hands together and headed her way.

  “Is it this thing?” When she pulled out the tool, it was heavier than she anticipated and her hands were clammy from all the humidity. Lexa watched in horror as it flew out of her grasp and slammed against Sam’s denim-clad lower legs. It fell with a heavy thud in the dirt between his boots. Wary of another coughing attack, Lexa waved her hand in front of her face. She trained her eyes on the ground, afraid to meet his eyes. She hoped he wouldn’t bark like her dad when she tried to help.

  “Yep. That’s it.” He didn’t even flinch as a small cloud of dust swirled around them. Sam’s voice sounded tight with frustration. Crouching down, he retrieved the tire iron.

  “I’m so . . . sorry?” Lexa finally dared to look up at him, one hand covering her mouth, not sure whether to laugh or cry. Surely he understood it was an accident. She wished his smile would return. She liked it a whole lot better.

  Sam’s hands found his hips. “Miss Clarke . . .” The words were slow and measured. “I’m sure you understand we’re going to be using tools for the next eight weeks.” Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his damp hair. “Never mind. I’m sure I can find a way for you to help us out at the worksite.” The encouraging signs of another grin tipped the corners of his mouth. “I suspect something with numbers or measuring things might be best.”

  Lexa tried her best to look him straight in the eye. It was rather difficult. When Sam lowered his head, she captured his gaze, holding it steady. The hint of a twinkle in those blue eyes surprised her. “I’m a fast learner. Give me something to do so I can help you.”

  Sam nodded, but he looked dubious. “Okay. I know just the thing.”

  ~~**~~

  Standing beside him, Lexa clutched the lug nuts in her tight fists, her expression a study in agitation. Stubborn as all get out, this one. No doubt irritated all he’d asked her to do was hand him lug nuts. But, it was all he needed if they were going to make it to the camp anytime soon.

  Sam glanced at her impractical shoes and swallowed his grin. One foot tapped a steady rhythm, kicking up dirt. With her fancy clothes, Lexa looked more prepared to board a cruise ship than build houses. Even with those ridiculous shoes boosting her height, she still couldn’t be any taller than five-foot-three, give or take an inch.

  He stole another look as he worked. In odd contrast to the way she was dressed and those pink nails peeking at him beneath her shoe strap, Lexa was one of the most natural women he’d seen in a long time. His eyes followed the long, blonde braid down almost to her waist. That wasn’t something you normally saw outside of a farm in the Midwest. Most career women couldn’t be bothered. Fascinating.

  A trail of faint freckles peppered her nose and sprinkled across her upper cheeks. Her features and that pleasing drawl held an inherent sweetness, an innocence all too rare. Guys would line up around the block for a woman like Lexa. But she gave off signals she wasn’t interested. Even though he noticed, he wasn’t looking. Big distinction. The two of them should get along just fine.

  Once he was certain the new tire was secure, Sam repositioned the hub cap. “I hope you brought a pair of sturdy work boots. Especially out at the worksite, you don’t want anything falling on those dainty toes.”

  If it was possible, Lexa’s foot shifted into overdrive. “I hope that’s not a crack because I hit you. I assure you, it was completely an accident.” She sniffed and turned her head the other way. “For the record, I’m . . . I’m sorry.”

  Bless her heart, she sounded genuinely remorseful.

  “Relax. It was simply an observation. And stop tapping your foot. You’re stirring up trouble . . . I mean dust.” Freudian slip. “Besides, I thought women liked being called dainty.” Sam shot another glance at the tiniest feet he’d ever seen on a woman. “Those little wedgie shoes of yours aren’t exactly practical for a work camp.”

  A pink flush slowly crept into her cheeks. It was gratifying to see a modern woman could still blush. “I brought steel-toed work boots, yes. And it’s called a wedge heel, thank you very much. Not a wedgie. That’s something else entirely.” Her unexpected smile revealed a glimpse of the humor hidden behind that defensive façade. When she wasn’t tight as a knot, Lexa Clarke was incredibly pretty.

  Shrugging his shoulders, Sam gave her a half-grin. “Wrench, please.” He held out his hand, waiting.

  “Did you just call me a wench?” Lexa’s voice rose, and the smile faded.

  Sam laughed outright. Communicating with this volunteer might prove a challenge in itself. “Of course not. Careful, Miss Clarke. Your hackles are showing. I think that particular term went out with the Middle Ages and is only used at Renaissance Fairs. I simply asked for the wrench. Since the tire iron proved a bit unwieldy, I thought maybe I’d use the wrench this time. You do know what . . .”

  “Of course, I do.” Lexa darted to the back and returned in five seconds flat. Without another word, she handed him the wrench. Her look of self-satisfaction said it all. He wouldn’t bother telling her he meant the bigger wrench. He could make do. For a brief second, Sam wondered what her hair looked like loose and flowing. He averted his gaze. Now she really was stirring up trouble, but trouble of an entirely different nature. The kind he was trying hard to ignore and avoid.

  Giving each lug nut a solid, full turn to make sure they were equally tight, he lowered the car to the ground and removed the jack. “That should do it.” He checked the tire one last time, satisfied it was secure. “We’d better get moving. We’re already behind schedule.” He gathered the old tire and tools and piled them into the back of the car.

  Not waiting, Lexa flung the door wide and climbed back in the car. It was a surprise when she leaned across the seat and pushed his door open. “I’m sorry if picking me up at the bus station put you behind schedule. I could have just flown in on an airplane like a normal person and grabbed a taxi to the camp.”

  Easing behind the wheel again, Sam replaced his sunglasses and decided to ignore the normal person comment. From the fancy suitcase and clothes to her overall demeanor, Lexa seemed pretty pampered. Maybe the humidity made her irritable. It had that effect on a lot of women. He hoped she’d get used to it sooner than later or he’d be better off to steer clear. A narrow line between her brows surfaced and she crossed her arms.

  Starting the engine
, Sam pondered her comment. He cleared his throat, searching for something to say that might not offend her. “First of all, I would have opened the door for you.”

  Judging by her deepening frown, that wasn’t the best comment. He pulled out on the road again and avoided looking at his watch.

  “Not that I don’t appreciate your gentlemanly, old-fashioned chivalry, but I thought it’d get us on the road quicker if I’m self-sufficient and don’t stand on ceremony.”

  “And also for the record, picking you up at the bus station didn’t put us behind. It’s more the matter of a nail in the road causing a flat tire. And no way would a taxi driver be able to find his way to the camp. All roads definitely do not lead to the TeamWork camp. Let’s just say it’s the road less-traveled.” Lexa kept her eyes trained out the window as if there was actually something to see, but Sam could tell she listened. “If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that God always knows what He’s doing.”

  “Are you saying God made the tire go flat?” Her tone sounded more curious than defensive as she turned to look at him again.

  “No. I’m saying He allowed it to happen. He has His reasons. It’s up to us to try and figure out what He’s trying to tell us.” Wow, that sounded high-handed. Lexa met his gaze before lowering her lids. The luminous, blue-green color of those eyes reminded him of the Mediterranean. He’d flown over it enough times to appreciate the beauty of the sunlight reflected in its waves.

  A vision of eyes similar in clarity and brilliance still haunted him, but Sam pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He had a job to do, houses to build. But mental fortitude couldn’t prove a match for the sudden pumping of his heart. This woman might prove to be trouble in more ways than one. Texas-sized trouble.

  Lexa Clarke intrigued him whether he liked it or not. As he drove them closer to the TeamWork camp, Sam resolved to keep his thoughts occupied with something other than the fascination sitting beside him on the front seat.

  CHAPTER 3

  They drove in silence for a few minutes. Sam was probably figuring out where to place her in the TeamWork camp that wouldn’t endanger any of his more experienced volunteers.

  “I hope you realize you’ll be working around a lot of people at the TeamWork camp.”

  Lexa blew out a heavy sigh. Could the man talk about nothing else? “When I signed up with TeamWork, I thought I’d be going to Europe. But all the overseas positions were filled by the time I applied.”

  “So, you signed up for the adventure of it all, thinking you’d be traveling to some foreign destination.” It was more a statement of fact than a question.

  “Sorry if that offends you, but yes. TeamWork is supposed to be a foreign missions organization from what I understand.” Seized by a sense of how egocentric that sounded, Lexa twisted her hands in her lap. She was looking for so much more than adventure.

  “It doesn’t offend me. Not at all. Especially since you decided to come here, even though it’s not your first choice.”

  Lexa struggled to sit up straighter in the leather seat and glanced over at her companion. “There’s more to it than that, of course. It’s not like I expected to traipse through the Alps, singing and skipping around like a carefree Von Trapp in The Sound of Music, you know. Favorite movie aside, I did some research. I like how TeamWork’s helping people around the world in lots of different ways, putting their faith into meaningful action. I’m hoping I can contribute something to the cause.”

  “Well, that’s an admirable goal. I mean, sure, it’s not Europe or Africa, or outside the United States. Or even outside of Texas.” A grin tugged at the corners of Sam’s mouth.

  “Okay, here’s the thing. The lady in the TeamWork office told me this was where they most needed me. So,” she said with a shrug, “here I am.”

  He nodded. “I appreciate your willingness to help. Trust me, we need all we can get. It’s where God has planted us for the next eight weeks, and these people need our assistance.”

  “Because God knows what He’s doing.”

  “Right. He has His purpose.”

  “And are skipping and singing like a carefree Von Trapp allowed?” Her grin escaped. In return, Lexa was rewarded with one of the most genuine smiles she’d ever seen.

  “Singing is definitely allowed. Just don’t expect me to skip. Never gonna happen in my lifetime, unless . . .” The expression on Sam’s face appeared wistful, as though he harbored a delicious secret.

  “Unless what?” Lexa prompted.

  “Unless the Lord blesses me to one day hold the hand of my daughter. That’s the only thing that could ever justify skipping.” He grunted and straightened on the seat as if to deflect from his tender sentiment by infusing it with a healthy dose of masculinity.

  Tears stung her eyes at Sam’s unexpected words as Lexa stared blindly out the window. What would this man say if she told him she wasn’t sure God even loved her? That He took her mother way too soon and left her with a father who couldn’t tell his only child he loved her and wanted no part of God?

  Not that she blamed God. Her father wasn’t a bad man. He always provided for her, but Michael Clarke didn’t have a clue how to raise a motherless girl. He didn’t know how to comfort her when she cried herself to sleep every night for nearly a year after her mom died. He preferred to wallow in the misery of his own loneliness. And he certainly never skipped with her.

  If anything, Lexa hoped TeamWork could help her find her way back into the graces of the Almighty. Maybe if she did something good for others, He’d find favor and bless her life in some way. It might make up for all the years spent apart from Him, away from the church. Then again, maybe that’s not how it worked. Her shoulders slumped under the burden of inadequacy.

  “So, I’m sure the TeamWork recruiter told you our specific mission here in San Antonio is to rebuild eight homes destroyed by flooding a few months ago.”

  Lexa nodded. “Right. Eight homes in eight weeks seems awfully ambitious.”

  “You’ll be surprised how quickly we can rebuild. They’re not large homes. We were here at the same camp three years ago, doing the exact same thing.” Sadness laced Sam’s words. “This particular area is prone to flooding after a drought followed by sudden heavy rains. For some reason, the residents always come back and rebuild in the same place.”

  She could understand. Until signing up for the TeamWork mission, she’d been hesitant to step outside her own comfort zone. “I guess it’s their home and they simply don’t want to leave. Old habits die hard, and people sometimes find it difficult to change.”

  “Where’s your home, Lexa?”

  That question was surprising. Sam didn’t seem the type of person to forget much of anything. “Houston.” She darted a glance in his direction.

  “I’m not talking about that home.”

  She raised a brow. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

  “Where’s home in your heart?”

  “Home in my heart?” Lexa repeated, feeling silly.

  “I sense hesitation in there somewhere. Or maybe uncertainty.”

  “Give me a minute.” She chewed the inside of her lip. “Not all of us can be as quick on our feet as you.”

  “I’m not that quick. Just tall.” Those smile lines had a life all their own.

  “Look, no matter why I signed up, or what I’m afraid of, or why I’m here . . . or where home in my heart is, I need a change of pace. I need to establish priorities in my life, and do something worthwhile. I want to help people less fortunate, and I want to be needed.” The edge of irritation slipped back into her voice. “Does that answer all your questions?”

  Lexa imagined this man was just getting started. Crossing her arms, she realized she acted and sounded like a petulant child. And why wouldn’t her bottom stay anchored to the seat? Pretty soon she’d be staring up at Sam from the floorboard of this old bomb. It had to be the leather seats. They were downright slippery.

  “Oh no, red alert. Hos
tile body language.” Sam’s tone was wry.

  “You really do this for fun?” Lexa shot back.

  Raising his arm, Sam gestured at their surroundings. “Why not? Wide open spaces, a great opportunity for ministry, and plenty of interesting co-workers.”

  The last part of that sentence was clearly intended for her benefit. She stared out the window. It seemed like they’d been in the car for hours on end. Whether or not they’d ever arrive at the TeamWork camp was becoming a distinct question in her mind. “Are we almost there?” Lexa didn’t expect the hearty laugh elicited by that question.

  “Be patient. We’ll be there in a few more minutes.” Sam sounded the tiniest bit placating.

  Drumming her fingertips in a slow march on the edge of the open window, Lexa glimpsed the occasional ramshackle house, a cow, a few abandoned cars and dilapidated signs advertising places long gone. Her stomach churned a bit, fear squeezing her from the inside out the closer they drove to the camp. Would the other volunteers welcome her? Accept her? Was she crazy to sign on for something when she had no idea what to expect? No one said making a difference in the world was easy.

  A combination of hot pavement, freshly-mown grass and a foul stench from something in the animal kingdom assaulted Lexa’s nostrils and contributed to her queasiness. Leaning her head back against the seat, she wrinkled her nose and closed her eyes. Inhaling a few deep breaths to try and calm her nerves was a mistake and did not help.

  Without warning, Sam swerved the car and slammed on the brakes, jerking both of them forward. The engine cut off and silence engulfed them. Somewhere in the distance, a cow mooed, and a horse fly buzzed through the car and landed on Lexa’s shoulder.

  “What . . . ?” She opened her eyes and batted in annoyance at the pesky fly. Looking up in surprise, she shoved escaping strands of hair away from her eyes. A goat stood in the middle of the dirt road. The ornery animal stared them down, as if daring them to come any closer. Massaging the back of her neck, she stole a glance at Sam.