Drake watched his parents closely, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. They sat side by side, his dad in his wheelchair, his mom in the adjacent chair. She kept her hand on his, her eyes focused on Mr. Brewer, their accountant and longtime family friend.
Mr. Brewer shifted and cleared his throat. “Normally in these situations, I’d suggest filing for Chapter 12, but you’d need to be able to pay your creditors back within three to five years. Unless the courts approve a longer time frame, but even then...”
His folks would need to pay the money back sometime, and with Dad tied to his chair...
Dad slammed his fist on the table. Mom jumped, and tears filled her eyes. Mr. Brewer winced, looking about ready to hightail it out of there.
“All right.” Drake tried to catch his dad’s gaze, needing to calm the man down so he could do what he needed to do, for Mom’s sake. “Let’s everyone take a breather. There’s a lot of information to process—”
“We’ve been processing long enough.” Mom’s tone was low but firm, and she leveled a look at her husband. “I know this is hard. It’s not fair. I know how hard you’ve worked for this ranch. I know how much this land, this home, means to you, to all of us.” Her voice cracked. “But sometimes a person’s got to do what a person’s got to do.”
Drake hated to see his mom in such pain, to see his dad looking so...helpless. Dejected. His hero, the man he had, growing up, seen as invincible, now unable to provide for his family.
His mom scooted her chair to face her husband and took his hands in hers. “It’s time. We’ve had a good run, and made some wonderful memories. We’ve built a strong marriage and family. Let’s hold tight to the things that matter most.”
Dad covered his face with his hands, his body shaking with silent sobs.
If only there was something Drake could do. Some way to help.
He could give up his contracting business. Take over the ranch, like Dad always wanted.
He winced. He’d built his business from scratch. But it was the only solution that made sense.
Taking a deep breath, he stood. He walked to the breakfast counter and leaned against it, arms crossed. “There’s one other—”
The doorbell rang. “I’ve got that.” He needed a moment to strengthen his resolve.
With heavy steps, he crossed through the living room. He answered the door, to find Faith standing on his parents’ porch dressed in a faded T-shirt and jean shorts. Her hair framed her face in long, loose curls. Her chestnut highlights glimmered in the sun, and a slight pink tinged her cheeks.
Standing here now, looking so beautiful, she represented yet another loss.
“Hey.” He leaned against the door frame.
“Your parents okay? You weren’t at work today.”
Was that why she’d stopped by? That was sweet, and evidence of her tender heart. The kind of woman he’d love to marry, to bring into his boys’ lives. If only she shared his faith.
“Finished early.”
“Drake, who is...” His mom emerged from the kitchen. “Faith, how good to see you.” She approached her with arms wide and a somewhat tense smile. Being the Southern host that she was, she wouldn’t turn Faith away. At least, not without offering her sweet tea and a home-baked cookie.
“Come in, dear.” His mother motioned Faith inside.
They’d pretty much concluded their meeting with the accountant anyway.
Drake knew what he needed to do.
At the cost of his business. There was no way he could manage both. Nor was there any guarantee he could keep his parents’ place afloat. They’d accumulated a lot of debt.
“Like those famous painted churches throughout Texas?” The lift in his mother’s voice pulled his focus to her and Faith’s conversation.
Faith sat, her eyes bright. “I think that was the original intent, yes. But the project got disrupted by some sort of internal tiff.”
His mother perched on the edge of the armchair across the coffee table from her. “So you’re saying...” Her gaze slid to Drake’s, the hope in her expression evident, before shifting back to Faith. “...we have an important artist in our family tree, one who lived right here on the ranch.”
“Exactly.” She went on to explain information she’d uncovered and what that meant.
Mom brought a hand to her mouth. “Our place is historical?”
Elizabeth and Mr. Brewer entered the room.
Drake stepped closer. “So what’s that mean? Will we be able to list it at a higher price, get more money when we sell it?”
Faith’s eyes widened. “Don’t do that.”
Mom frowned and stared at her hands.
“They might not have a choice,” Elizabeth said.
Faith turned to his mom. “What if you renovated this house into a bed-and-breakfast? And really played up the historical part?”
Elizabeth squealed. “We could have horseback riding, and dress colonial. Maybe sell some acreage, but not all, and the cattle.”
Drake scratched his jaw. This could work. “My buddy Neil’s looking for property for an outdoor adventure type thing. Bet he’d be interested.” If anyone were to buy their land, he’d want it to be Neil. He was about as close to family as someone could get without being blood related. “He wouldn’t try to lowball us, either. Plus, you wouldn’t have to sell it all. You could keep the stables and arena, ten acres for grazing.”
Mom brought her twined fingers to her mouth, her eyes brimming with hope.
“This could be so awesome,” Elizabeth said. “We could spiff the place up. Make it match the historical period.” She grabbed Faith’s hand. “You could help.”
Mom’ s eyes grew misty. “Faith, I could just squeeze the stuffing out of you, girl.”
So could Drake. Matter of fact, it was taking all his self-control not to draw closer to her and kiss that beautiful, bright-eyed face of hers.
If only...
He shifted to face Mr. Brewer. “What do you think? Does this sound viable?” This could be exactly what his folks needed to keep their place and pay off their debts.
Mr. Brewster tugged on his earlobe. “I think you’ve got some phone calls to make—to your buddy, the cultural committee, and maybe the historical society. But yeah.” He chuckled, the heavy lines that had etched his face only moments ago now gone. “This could really take off.”
Elizabeth squealed again and snagged Faith in a hug. Their mom joined in. Drake lunged forward, his heart full, drawn into the moment. But then common sense caught up and he stopped, his gaze locked on Faith’s.
A flash of sadness filled her eyes. With what appeared to be a fortifying breath, she looked away.
He hated knowing he was the cause of her pain.
Faith checked the time on her phone. “We should get going.” She avoided glancing Drake’s way, knowing if he made eye contact, she’d come undone. And she had no intention of showing up to the committee meeting puffy-eyed and snotty-nosed.
“Right,” Drake said. “I’ll call—”
Mr. Owens wheeled in. “What’re y’all yapping about in here?”
“Faith found a way to save our home, Daddy.” Elizabeth grinned.
“Don’t go counting your calves before they’re birthed, now.” Drake snatched his hat off the rack. “There’s still a lot of details to work out. I need to see what Neil might be willing to pay for the land—”
“Wait a minute.” Mr. Owens’s scowl deepened as he shifted his focus to his daughter. “I thought you said we were keeping the place.”
Mrs. Owens placed a hand on his shoulder. “We are, dear. At least part of it. Enough.”
“I’ll leave you two to talk things out.” Drake winked at his mom and gazed out the window. “Can y’all keep an eye on my rascals?”
They were playing with the water hose and covered in mud and grass.
With the ninety-plus temperatures they’d been having, Faith almost envied them.
“’Course.” Elizabeth gave a thumbs-up, then gave Faith another hug. “Thanks, girl. I can’t tell you what this means. For my parents, for me. For all of us.”
“I got lucky, I guess.”
“No luck about it. You’ve helped provide the answer to countless nights of prayer.”
Faith dropped her gaze and tucked her hair behind her ear.
Could Elizabeth be right? Could God have used Faith, her coming here, her love of history, the patch of peeling paint on the church wall—all of it—to save the Owens Ranch?
And what if she talked to Him? Like Elizabeth and Drake did. Would He listen? Maybe even help her?
She met Elizabeth’s gaze. “Do you think your pastor would be willing to meet with me? I’ve got questions. About...Jesus.”
“For sure! I’ll call him now.” She had the pastor on the phone before Faith made it to the porch.
Elizabeth followed her to her car. “Tonight work? At Wilma’s.”
“Perfect.” A sense of expectation filled Faith’s heart as she slid into the driver’s seat. It still hurt, the way things had turned out between her and Drake. But she had a feeling, almost like a knowing, that she was about to get something even better.
Something no one—not Drake, not her dad, not a failed project or career—could take away.
As usual, the cultural committee meeting was being held at the high school. Unless the team decided to repaint the church’s interior, this would be the last one. And by Friday, if not sooner, Faith would be packed up and headed back to Austin.
Never to see Drake or his boys again.
How had she grown so attached to those three in such a short period of time?
She blinked back tears as she pulled into the high school parking lot. Lord, I have to believe You’re in this.
Taking in a deep breath, she cut the engine and stepped out into the hot, late afternoon sun. The scents of chicken and charcoal drifted toward her, the squeal of giggling children and the yapping of a dog merging in the distance.
The sounds and smells of a happy, nostalgic summer. It made sense why so many people loved small towns. She’d come to feel the same. She could even envision herself living here, if not for Drake. She wasn’t sure her heart could handle seeing him every day, so close yet out of reach.
Cold air swept over her, sending goose bumps up her arms, as she stepped inside and made her way toward the cafeteria. As usual, Lucy and her gang were already seated around one of the long, rectangular tables. The mayor and Drake were there, as well. She could feel their eyes track her as she made her way across the room.
She settled into a vacant spot kitty-corner from Lucy. “Hello.”
Lucy smiled and folded her hands in front of her. “I received your email regarding what you found.”
“Do you think it’ll help?” Faith said.
“It might. It certainly makes for a great story—a potential start to one of Texas’s famous painted churches, abandoned, then later resumed and...well, changed. Though the truth is, we don’t have money to pay for a complete redo.”
Then Lucy brightened. “But from what Drake’s been telling us, Sage Creek might still have a claim to fame.”
“Yes.” The mayor grinned. “Tell us more, Faith. About what you discovered. What it means.”
She did, beginning with the journal she’d read, all one hundred plus pages of it.
“Glory be.” A short man with a shiny bald head—Faith could never remember his name—chuckled. “That’s quite a story! Of one man’s moral failure—”
“But ultimately, of the overriding power of grace.” Lucy lifted her chin. “That church was built, if not how those immigrants wanted, then how it was meant to be. And it’s remained standing through tornadoes, economic crises, religious spats and the recent fire.”
And so it had.
“So, what do you think?” Drake glanced from face to face, his eyes hopeful.
“I’ll make some calls.” Lucy flipped her notebook closed. “See what y’all need to do to get the ranch listed in the historical registry and if there are any preservation laws to consider. You might even qualify for a 20 percent tax credit, when y’all start rehabilitating the place. I assume you’ll be doing some of that.”
“Most likely.” Drake looked ready to jump up and whoop and holler.
“Regardless, I don’t see why y’all can’t carry out your business plans,” Lucy said. “Whether the place gets listed officially or not, we know the history. You’ve got the letters and such to prove it. Build a website, mount your ‘proofs’ so to speak, where folks can see them, and enjoy the blessings of God’s provisions.”
Drake grinned like a kid on his birthday. “Sounds like a plan. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to call my buddy to see if he might be interested in buying a parcel of my folks’ land.”
Faith watched him go, thankful for how things had turned out, for the most part. She’d made some great friends, and had even started communicating with God again.
Though she’d be leaving here with a broken heart, she sensed she’d also be taking the first steps to healing and wholeness.