The Carpenter's Daughter (25 page)

I waited…he said he was in the middle of a thing, but maybe…

Jesse:
Hey back. Yeah, shipshape. The house isn’t though.

Me:
Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.

Jesse:
No. Could use your skills down here.

Um…was that a hint? An invitation?

Jesse:
You there?

Me:
Yeah…

Jesse:
Your face is red, isn’t it?

What?

Me:
Why would you say that?

Jesse:
You always blush when I say something you don’t know what to do with.

I touched my cheeks—which were hot.

Me:
I don’t know what to do with you.

Maybe too honest.

Jesse:
I know. Sorry.

If he were standing in front of me, his fingers would brush my arm. Or my face. And I’d look into those green eyes and…

Me:
Maybe someday I’ll understand?

Jesse:
I hope so.

I drew in a long breath as the warmth drained from my face. My heart, which had felt light and fluttery two seconds before, squeezed hard and dropped.

Jesse:
Sapphira…

I shut my eyes, hearing his husky voice as if he were standing with me. When I opened them, I found my hand shook.

…you are loved.

Loved…by him? No, Jesus. That was what he’d said the other night. My bottom lip went under my teeth. Jesus loved me…did I care?

My heart twisted.

Do you love me?

My silent question wasn’t for Jesse, which sort of shook me off kilter. This Jesus, the carpenter’s kid Jesse talked about, He must be real. Jesse wasn’t stupid—and his compassion surpassed most. Because of this Jesus?

I remembered what Darcy had said all those weeks ago about pouring yourself out for others. Counterintuitive to the human drive, I thought. Why would she tell me to do that? Because of this Jesus she followed. The same Whom Jesse followed.

The same Who loved me? My thumbs wobbled as I punched in a simple text.

Me:
By Jesus?

Jesse:
So much.

Me:
How do you know?

Jesse:
He died for you. He’s calling you. He’s what you’re aching for, Sapphira.

Not for Jesse? Also counterintuitive…if a man saw how a woman hungered for him, wouldn’t he take advantage of it? Jesse wasn’t that kind of guy.

I want what is best for you…

Not normal. My phone chimed again.

Jesse:
Keep listening, Sarah. You’ll hear.

Hear what?

A hammer pounded from inside the house. Work. I was supposed to be working. Still off balance in my heart, I shoved my phone out of sight, wishing Jesse wasn’t so odd.

No. That wasn’t what I wanted. I wished I could understand him. Maybe that I was more like him.

Jesse

“What’s her name?”

My head snapped up. “Who?”

Shane chuckled and Mia smirked.

“You’re cute, Jess,” she said.

Cute? I wasn’t a puppy. I scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Shane shook his head. “You’ve never been one to text during a conversation. Because it’s rude.”

Oh. That. I shifted my attention from him to the plate I’d scraped clean.

“Please tell me it’s not another sixty-year-old woman inviting you for a meal next time you’re in town.”

I sent him a
shut up
look. “No.”

He grinned like he’d just pried open my secret. “But there
is
a woman on the other end of those texts.”

Dang. The sneak.

“It’s nothing.”

“Yes.” Mia snagged my plate. “We can see that it’s nothing. You typically drift into another world, ignore the girls, and have that concentrated look for no reason. Totally normal.”

With a long breath, I rubbed the back of my neck.

Mia laughed. “Do you have a picture?”

I held my tongue.

“Come on,” she said. “We’ve been trying to set you up for ages. You have to let us get a glimpse at the woman who finally snagged your attention.”

This wasn’t going to end. I looked first to her and then to Shane. “No. Let it go, please?” I set my phone facedown on the table. “It’s not anything right now, because it can’t be. Okay?”

They exchanged raised eyebrows.

“That doesn’t sound good, bro. You’re not…”

I sighed. “She’s not married. Not weird. Not a convict. She’s actually quite amazing—but not a Christian.”

Silence hung over the table until Shane leaned against it with his elbows. “Ouch.”

Mia slid onto the chair next to me. She looked first to Shane and then back at me. “You never know, Jess. Maybe you could—”

“Save her?” I shook my head. “Not my place. Not in my power.” And things were too complicated.

“Mia.” Shane’s soft tone rebuked her.

“It works out sometimes,” she said. “You never know what God can use.”

I cleared my throat. “And if it doesn’t?”

She stilled, looking at her hands. “I don’t know.”

Exactly. She didn’t know. But I did. It’d break my heart. I couldn’t imagine spending my life with someone—loving her like this—and knowing she’d never see heaven. Worse, wondering if I’d superficially filled her search for Christ by getting in the way. I wasn’t going to live like that, and I didn’t want Sarah to either.

“What’s her name, Jess?”

I pulled my gaze off the table to meet Shane’s. “Sarah.”

He nodded, and that was all.

Good. Subject dropped.

Shane reached for the notepad he kept on the sideboard behind his chair. “Let’s get to work. Repairs…”

Finally. If only my heart could shift so easily.

Mia pushed away from the table, finished the dishes, and left the area. I could hear the girls squealing in the basement, and wondered for a moment what this kind of life would feel like. Home every night, a wife to hold as I drifted to sleep, kids to make every day interesting. Not something I really imagined much. Because it looked too much like the life my parents shared.

Why did that bother me?

“…the front room will take most of the time and money.” The foreman in Shane easily stepped forward. “I know you’re a roofer, but I think hiring that job out would be best. You can’t do both at once, and as this is Tennessee, leaving either job to wait is a bad call.”

Right. I tried to stick my mind to the list Shane was writing out.

“You could also hire a cleaning company.” He leveled me with a disapproving look. “Rephrase. You
need
to hire a cleaning company. You let it go too long.”

Ouch. I clenched my jaw and stared at him.

Shane set his pen on the pad and spread his palms on the table. “Rough morning or not, Jess, we have some things we need to discuss.”

My shoulders knotted. Shane wasn’t that much older than me, but every now and then he took on this big-brother, dad-ish persona that I probably needed but didn’t want at the moment.

“Not now.”

“No. Now.” He paused, the shift of his brow daring me to argue. “You’re not home more than two weeks at a time, usually in the winter, and often in my basement. Which is great. We love having you, and don’t want that to change. But it’s time to deal with some things.”

Some things
being the rest of my parents’ estate. I cleared my throat.

“It’s past due,” Shane said, “and you can’t keep ignoring it.”

I kept myself still, because fidgeting was a sign of discomfort, and I didn’t need to show how uncomfortable this was.

“Level with me, Jess.” Shane leaned forward again. “Why do you keep avoiding this?”

Good question. I didn’t know. All my memories of my parents were good. Happy childhood. Solid home. Successful parents. A great life.

Not the life I saw for myself. At least, I hadn’t been able to picture it before. But as I sat there, the sounds of that same sort of life filled Shane’s house, and a new picture bloomed in my mind. My house, my wife—whose blue eyes had mesmerized me from the first day I’d bumped into her—and some kids who looked something like both of us.

Not fair. I’d never had that vision with anyone before. I pushed it away. Love hurt too much. Couldn’t hold it. Couldn’t keep it. At some point, you had to let it go.

Let it go, and see what happens.

Where did that come from?

“Listen, bro.” Shane shifted in his chair. “I knew your dad. Loved him. And I know this: He didn’t leave you everything they’d worked for so that you would feel obligated. He and your mom chased their dreams. They wanted you to have the freedom to chase yours. If this—the house, his business, all of it—if it’s not part of
your
dream, then let it go. It’s okay.”

Was that it? Warm moisture stung my eyes. Wouldn’t that make me ungrateful?

I wasn’t the owner-manager type; I wasn’t my dad. I liked the work I did, the way I did it. I didn’t want to be in charge. Mack did it just fine. Shane did it well. Me? Not so much.

“It’s okay, Jess. You don’t have to be him. He’s proud of you as you.”

I swallowed, drew a long breath, and then released it. “Seems disrespectful to sell it.”

He shook his head. “It’s disrespectful to let everything go to waste. Bless someone else with it. That was what your mom and dad were all about anyway. Being a blessing to others. Which is why you love to do what you do. You learned from them. Just do it as you.”

I lifted my eyes to him. “What about you? What happens to you if I sell?”

“Mia and I…” He shrugged. “We’ll be fine. Your dad built a life, and there’s something good about that, don’t you think?”

I did, and he had. That was one of the things I admired most about my parents. They had a plan, a goal, and they worked for it. It didn’t come easy, but it was theirs. And then it was mine, to do with as I chose. I looked up to Shane, an idea solidifying as soon as it struck.

“Do you want it?”

Shane’s expression pinched in question.

“Dad’s company. Do you want it?”

He chuckled. “You know I can’t.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

His silence revealed the answer. “You run it anyway. There’s no reason not to sell to you. You’ve worked for the company since you were sixteen.”

He rubbed a hand over his head. “There’s no way I can pay you what it’s worth.”

“We’ll figure it out. If it would be a blessing to you and Mia.” I paused to pull in some more air. “It’d be a blessing to me if you took it.”

Another stretch of silence pulled between us, but somehow a weight I didn’t realize I carried slipped from my shoulders. All this time, I felt in the far reaches of my heart that I would need to come back, to carry on Dad’s work the way he’d done it. It had pressed on me, and I hadn’t understood until this moment why.

I wasn’t him. But he didn’t expect me to be. My lips quivered as I looked to my legs. Why had I carried that lie all these years? Dad hadn’t fed it to me, but I always measured myself by him, and I was sure I’d never reach his stature.

Dad hadn’t. He measured me by love, and it was always enough.

Love didn’t leave. It grew.

I’d clung to expectations that were never meant for me, belittling the real love that had been there. Now it unfolded, covering me until the fears of inadequacy drowned under love’s sufficiency.

Sarah… If you could only know this love.

Clarity sank deep as I shifted my thoughts to her. This was why God had crossed our paths. I understood her better than I’d realized. We shared the same fear—that we would never know who we were, or if we did, it wouldn’t be enough. My heart seemed to explode with the full impact of truth.

Jesus loves me—this I know.

As I was. As she was. He loved completely.

I am listening. Please, let her hear too.

Sarah

I rolled my tongue around inside my dry mouth. I hated dehydration. It made my head pound. Time for a break.

After looping my hammer, I inspected the beam we’d installed. It went in without a problem. The guy Mack had left to work with me was reasonable and willing, which had painted the sun brighter in my world. That, and the fact that Troy wasn’t present. Guess his community service had been met. As I exhaled, satisfaction tugged on my lips. Finally. A good day.

“Take five, Sam.” I turned, looking at the thirtysomething guy I’d been working with. “I need some water, and I’ll bet you do too.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Military, probably. Gotta like that. My grin grew as I strode out the front door and to my truck.

I had a water bottle half chugged when my phone chimed. Thought he’d call already—it’d been a couple hours. If he had, I missed it.

Nope, no missed calls. But he did text.

Jesse:
When you get a break, go here.

Below was a YouTube link. Huh. Must be on vacation if he had time to surf the Tube virals.

Me:
Kicking back today?

He didn’t answer. Maybe he was busy watching ESPN or something. The life.

“Did you talk to Chapman yet?” Mack spoke as he walked from his truck toward me.

The fire-flood started in my face again. How did you train a blush? Was it possible to disconnect it? Mack kept me blazing like a prairie fire with his constant poking.

“No.” I met his eyes, just so he wouldn’t think he had me flustered. “You?”

His gravely laugh prompted a grin on my mouth. Mack was unexpected. What was his story? He was a lot like my dad, and yet nothing at all like him. Dad was a good man usually, but he wasn’t too concerned with others. If they did their jobs, he let them be. Everyone needed to keep their lives to themselves—that was his philosophy.

Mack seemed to be of the same sort, except with this. Curiosity unhinged my tongue.

“What’s with you and the meddling?”

The old man shrugged one shoulder. “He’s a good kid. Deserves to be happy.”

And I figured in…how?

He cleared his throat and spat in the dirt. “You’re a unique one. Don’t come across a gal like you all the time. Pretty sure he knows it too.”

Huh. Almost sure that was a compliment.

“How long have you been doing this, Mack?” By this, I meant Homes For Hope. I assumed he knew what I was talking about.

“Ten years, more or less.”

“Why?”

“Healing.”

Back to one-word answers. Would he get mad if I pushed? I chewed on my bottom lip and let a space of quiet extend between us.

“My wife, she was a good woman. Lot like you, actually. Special.” He spat again. “When she died, I didn’t know what to do with myself. She’d been on the local Homes For Hope committee, and one day they asked for my help with a build. Thought I’d do it, to honor her. Strange as it may be, working that build…” His voice trailed onto the summer breeze, and he looked at the house in front of us. “It was the first time breathing didn’t hurt.”

Mack married—and loved that strong?

“She was a Christian woman. Always tried to get me to love God like I should. Seemed unnecessary to me. She loved me. That was enough. But when I didn’t have her anymore…” He swallowed and then cleared his throat. “I still don’t understand God. I keep listening to Chapman—from a distance, and he probably doesn’t know it—but I can see that he’s the real thing. Maybe I’ll figure it out. I do know this though: Alice lived to serve. God and other people. And serving does heal. I don’t know how or why, but I do know that it’s true.”

I stared at him, which probably made him uncomfortable, but I couldn’t help it. Shock had me dumb-whipped. This man who grunted more than he used the English language had just spit out the most touching story I’d ever heard. And it echoed what Darcy and Jesse had been telling me. To live beyond myself.