3

Most people in town already knew what happened. Many had witnessed the darkest day of Garrett’s life, so he didn’t need to talk about it. Ever. But Micara hadn’t lived in Sweet Home at that time, and now she had stepped into guarded territory. Still, he didn’t figure one more person knowing about it would make a difference.

“I was the starting quarterback, in my senior year at Sweet Home High. Scouts were looking at me, and I was close to signing with a university. I just needed to decide which one. The decision was mine. The whole world was mine, for all I knew. My girlfriend was head cheerleader. Jayanne Waylon. We were a textbook couple.

“That summer, before school started, I asked her to marry, me and she said yes. We talked a lot about getting married and what our life together would be like. I would play college ball before going pro. It sounded too good to be true, and now I know why.”

He’d lost his football career. He’d lost his fiancée. His life was filled with so much loss and pain that he’d even lost his faith.

Micara sank into the chair adjacent the couch and leaned on one of the armrests.

He adjusted the sofa cushion behind his head. “In the second quarter, a direct hit from a linebacker sent my body twisting through the air. I came down with my knee underneath me and…well, the rest is history. It gave a whole new meaning to the term “sacked.” I was rushed to the hospital while my best friend, Brent Berg, finished the game for me. He finished a lot of things for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“He took over my life. Jayanne dumped me and went out with Brent. They went off to college together, and Brent played football. He went pro, and they married. He took over my life, and I got sacked. And that’s the end of the story.”

“No, it isn’t.” Her voice held an unyielding certainty.

“Excuse me?”

She moved closer to him. Her nearness made him uncomfortable.

“You’re still alive, so that can’t be the end of the story.”

Somehow, he’d hoped this beautiful young woman would say something profound…something he hadn’t heard before from concerned friends and relatives. He should have known better. She’d come up with the same old thing, just different words.

He lay quiet for a moment and then continued. “After my football dream shattered, my only option, with a bad leg, was teaching and coaching. I’m not the smartest guy in the world and never ventured out of this town to make something of myself. My father died. My mother died. I inherited land that I can’t do anything with. Gabriel hates me. My other brothers moved off. And now, Jayanne and Brent are returning to Sweet Home, just when I was starting not to think about them for five minutes. Talk about timing.” Thinking about his life in staggered increments kept him depressed but still breathing. Summing it up in one lump set his insides on fire. If only Micara weren’t sitting there looking at him with those big, soft brown eyes.

“Why are Brent and Jayanne coming to town?”

“The town council is honoring Brent at the Sweet Home Heroes banquet.”

He’d have to be in the same room with them at the banquet. The superintendent had selected him as the athletic representative for the school. How was he supposed to introduce the man who was living his life? He might as well rip out his heart, mount it on a plaque, and hand it to the guy. Brent had taken everything else.

“It sounds like you had a perfect life and then everything fell apart.”

He nodded. “Top of the world.”

“I wouldn’t know what that’s like.” Micara’s soft voice commanded his attention. “My life was never a fairytale, until my mother and I moved here to escape an abusive situation. You think your life ended at seventeen, Garrett, but mine started at that age.”

Garrett didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent.

“Then these developers started lurking around, trying to change this place that I call home. My grandmother could lose her land and home. Everything is in limbo right now. I’ve questioned God on more than one occasion. I’m not proud of that, but trust is hard to come by when things don’t go the way you planned.”

How could she talk about trusting God when life was crumbling beneath her feet? Some people attracted happiness and success. Others didn’t. That was just the way it worked.

He should say something. “Better not to trust. Trusting makes a person expect something positive to happen. I just expect the worst…always. Then I’m never disappointed.”

A single tear streamed down Micara’s cheek, and then more tears fell. She wiped at them with her hand. The leather chair in which she sat was overstuffed and squeaked when she moved. “Garrett, God has something incredible planned for you. I knew it the instant I met you at the community center and found out you were part of this town’s founding family. Something in your eyes held me captive. I didn’t know what it was at first, but I do now. We’re in the same boat, each of us waiting to see what God has planned for us. Good or bad, we’ll make it through. It may not be what we imagined, but we have the choice to make the best of it. We were brought together for a reason.”

Micara might be a little over the top with the whole God thing, but something within Garrett reached out to her in a way he’d never experienced. He wanted to find happiness again. He wanted a purpose in life again.

“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to say a little prayer for us.” Micara nodded. No hesitancy. No obvious embarrassment.

He nodded, uncertain. How long had it been since he’d prayed?

She took his hands and closed her eyes. Transfixed, he watched her. A beautiful calmness washed over her face. A feathery feeling, like the eyelashes against her cheek, enveloped him.

“Lord, we come to you today in need of guidance. Garrett and I know we have a purpose. Please…lead us to it. Give us eyes that see what You need us to see, ears that hear what You need us to hear, and hands that are strong enough to do Your will. Most importantly, help us erase the ideas and plans that we have for ourselves, making room for Yours. Help us adopt the motto, ‘What’s next, Lord?’ with eager hearts. Amen.”

“Amen.” Garrett choked out the word, surprised by the depth of emotion Micara’s prayer had evoked.

Her eyes fluttered open and her gaze darted toward the doorway, drawn by the sound of boots plodding across the wooden floor. “Hello there, Gabriel.”

His brother stood in the doorway that led to the kitchen. Had he heard and seen them praying together?

“Sorry to interrupt.” Gabriel tipped his hat in true cowboy fashion and left through the kitchen.

“Your brother is an interesting man. Is he always so dry and quiet?”

Garrett shrugged. “He’s a man of few words—words that pack a mean punch. But yeah, he’s always been the quiet type. Keep in mind that he’s furious with me right now.”

“Why is that?”

If he answered it, she might never speak to him again. For some reason, he couldn’t let that happen.

Gabriel chose that moment to re-enter the house through the front door. Crossing the room, his work boots pounded on the hardwood floor. “Sparrow dropped this off. You left it in her car.”

A leather wallet landed in Garrett’s lap. He flinched, and his knee jerked. “Thanks a lot.” He couldn’t keep the note of sarcasm from his voice.

His brother ignored him and fixed his sober gaze on Micara. “How’s the front yard coming along?”

Micara stood and faced Gabriel at her full height—which still left her almost a foot shorter than he was. “I should be done the day after tomorrow. Four days, as promised.”

Gabriel nodded. “Great. Thank you.”

Micara glanced from brother to brother and then shrugged. “Well, I better get back to work.” She left.

Garrett stared at Gabriel. “Could you make me a sandwich? I’m starving.”

The look on Gabriel’s face could’ve melted steel. “Get it yourself.”

Garrett laid his head back on the pillow and let out a deep breath. Good ole’ Gabriel.

“And don’t get too comfortable. I’m gonna need you to work at the dairy on Saturday. You’ll be hobblin’ around well enough by then.”

Garrett hated working at the dairy with his brother, but doing so wasn’t all about Gabe. He owed it to their parents. But with his knee on the blink, Gabe would stick him behind a desk to do paperwork. That was worse than working the cows.

This promised to be the longest recovery in history.