seventeen

Almost three months ago, she’d sat here confident she could fix this town, and now she didn’t even think she could fix her own life. Hannah glanced at her watch—thirty minutes. She flipped through her note cards a few times before dropping them in her purse. What was the point? How eloquent do you need to be to stand in front of the town council and say, “I failed”?

Thomas’s words floated back. You can’t fix Mom’s leaving by winning this contest. Was that what she’d been trying to do?

She’d prayed a lot the past week, and every time she listened, all she knew was that she had to come to this meeting. Guess it was time to face the music. Maybe another prayer wouldn’t hurt.

A nearby chair squeaked as Mayor Jameson settled into it. The button on his coat stretched as far as the material would allow, and his smile puffed his cheeks and added another chin. “Afternoon, Hannah darlin’.”

He might smile at her now, but wait until he heard what she had to say. “Afternoon, Mayor.”

He tapped out an irregular rhythm on the chair between them. “It’s too bad about young Luke Johnson’s house. Just a shame.”

Hannah nodded, not trusting her voice.

“I wish there was more I could do. But as mayor, I have to be impartial. You understand?”

Hannah nodded again. Great, now she was a bobblehead.

He leaned back and stroked his mustache. “However, if a petition were formed by the town to, say, name a row of houses historic, then that would be something.”

Hannah shuffled the papers in her lap. “I checked into the national registry for historic homes, but that can take months.”

“Not a national registry. Oh, no.” His finger tapped at his chin. “A town has the right to zone areas how they want. And historic houses can’t be torn down willy-nilly.”

“Okay.” Where was he going with this?

“Did you know any resident can make a petition? It’s true. And with 250 signatures it would go to a vote. If the council saw that it was the will of the people to have a historic district in this town . . .” He shrugged. “Might change some things.”

Hannah bit the corner of her lip as she leaned a bit closer. “Are you saying—”

“I’m not saying anything. I must stay impartial, you understand. I’m just observing that it’s too bad a petition like that didn’t exist.” His gaze traveled the room before landing back on her. “Looks like I’m needed up front. Sure to be an exciting day.”

Aunt Lucy slid into the chair next to Hannah and wrapped her in a hug. “How’s my sweet girl been?”

Tears pressed at the back of Hannah’s eyes as she hugged her aunt. “You’re back! Everything has fallen apart since you left. I’ve failed. The contest. Luke—”

“Hush now. Thomas told me everything. It’ll all turn out. Just you wait and see.” Aunt Lucy dropped a kiss on her head and patted her knee.

How could she say that? And what had Thomas told her, anyway?

Fifteen minutes later the mayor banged the gavel to start the meeting, with every seat full and even the standing room packed.

“We now call to order the business of the Reader’s Weekly contest. Hannah Thornton, would you please step forward.”

Her hands shook as she fumbled through her notes. “Thank you, Mayor and the rest of the town council. I’m sorry to—”

“We’ve got a lot on the agenda today, Miss Thornton. We’re just going to ask a few questions.” The mayor cut her off with a smile. “At your last meeting, you were granted money and permission for the controlled burn and granted ten thousand dollars to beautify the center of town. First, let me address the fire. Did it clear away the condemned houses? Yes or no?”

It had done that and more. “Yes, but—”

“A simple yes will do.” He dismissed her with a wave and looked down at the paper. “After the removal of the Manor, the plans for the park were extended to the entire property with the addition of a gazebo. The wood for the gazebo has been purchased and the construction is in process, and after the donations of generous town members, you’ve stayed in your budget. Yes or no?”

“No.”

A murmur traveled through the room.

Hannah closed her eyes and drew a slow breath. “I’ve lost the donated funds.”

Everyone stared—no doubt seeing not her but her mother. A repeat of history.

“And I think I killed Otis.” Hannah dropped her note cards and pushed through the crowd out the back door. She collapsed on the nearby bench and buried her face in her hands as the tears refused to stop. Ultimate humiliation and she couldn’t even drive off. She’d left her keys in the room with her purse.

The bench creaked next to her. She wiped at her face and turned to Aunt Lucy. “I’ve ruined everything.”

Her aunt held out a book. The Art of Glass Fusing. “Thomas told me about some broken glass you have. He seemed to think you needed to throw it away. I think you were right to keep the pieces.”

Had her aunt lost her mind? Didn’t she see what had happened?

“Broken pieces are only dangerous if you leave them broken and sharp. The key is to not let them remain broken.” Aunt Lucy focused her eyes on her as if to communicate something profound, but Hannah just didn’t follow.

“I already tried to fix them—”

“Not fix them.” She laid her wrinkled hand on Hannah’s arm. “You can never really fix something shattered. But you can take the pieces and make something even better. Don’t leave the painful parts of your life in a box on the shelf. Figure out how to make something beautiful out of them.”

“I seem to have broken a lot of things since you left. I’m not sure anything beautiful can be made of them anymore.”

“Are you talking about the money? Sweetie, things like that happen. Things get misplaced or stolen—who knows. If you’re talking about the town, then I’m not sure you did mess up. Look at this town. I almost didn’t recognize the place when Don and I rolled in. If you’re talking about Luke—”

Hannah stiffened. “What did Thomas tell you?”

“Enough to know you did mess up there. But it seems so did he. Secrets don’t make for a good relationship.”

“I know.”

“Then why? Did you need him to have a family?”

“No. I just thought if he had a family then—”

“He’d be happier? You know, I think he just wanted you. That boy always knew you were enough for him. But I’m not sure he was ever convinced he was enough for you.”

Hannah closed her eyes against the stream of tears. Luke had always been enough. Why hadn’t she told him that?

Aunt Lucy patted her knee. “You need to get back in there. The meeting isn’t over.”

Hannah pulled the book to her chest and pushed to her feet. Time to face her execution.

The room grew quiet as Hannah and her aunt stepped back in. She walked back to the table where she’d left all her stuff and froze. A cup stuffed with cash sat on top of a folder. A lot of cash. She swallowed hard and reached for the unfamiliar bulging folder and opened it up. Pictures. Lots of pictures.

She lifted the first few. The houses. The fire. Even photos of a few of the bachelors. As many photos as she’d lost and more. But these weren’t hers. She turned one over. Property of Danielle Fair. She reached for another. Bo Mackers. Had the town been taking photos too?

“And what’s that, Miss Thornton?” A knowing smile played at the corners of the mayor’s lips.

“Photos.” Her voice squeaked as she continued to flip through what must be over fifty photos. Many were rough shots from cell phones, but some were good. Very good.

“Well, they’ll be a great addition to the website for the contest, don’t you think?”

Under the last photo was a sign-up sheet for the coming Saturday. One list of people agreeing to help work on the gazebo, another list of people willing to help plan the fair. They weren’t here to bury her. They were here to help her succeed. How could she have thought the worth of the town was in the buildings and history?

“Hannah.” The mayor’s voice softened. “We appreciate all you’ve done. Your vision and heart have renewed something in us all. Even if things haven’t gone as smoothly as you’d hoped, we’re standing with you. So what do you say—are you ready to win this contest?”

The room erupted in applause. If only Luke were here to see this. A lump lodged in her throat. Luke. What had the mayor said about a petition?

Hannah cleared her throat. “Thank you, but I’d like to add one more thing. I’d like to propose that we make all the buildings touching the new town square a historic district and unable to be demolished.”

Dale Kensington sat up straighter on the bench. “You can’t do that.”

“I can propose anything I want, and if I have 250 signatures on it then you have to vote on it.” Hannah lifted her chin and stared him down.

He narrowed his eyes. “And do you have 250 signatures?”

“No.” Hannah glanced at the mayor, who offered a slight nod of encouragement. “But I ask the council for time and request that you not make any decisions regarding the property of Luke Johnson until the next meeting.”

“Done. That discussion is tabled until next month.” The mayor smacked the gavel, bringing a scowl from Kensington.

God had brought the miracle she’d asked for through the great people of Heritage, and just maybe He had more planned.

Sometimes stepping out in faith felt a lot like bungee jumping. Or so she imagined. Janie had never been bungee jumping, but if she got this loan for the bakery, she might go try it. Maybe she’d even drag Hannah along.

Her ever-reliable friend sat in the next chair. She hadn’t been sure she could do this on her own, even if the loan manager was just Eddie Fry, who’d picked his nose in the fifth grade. In his defense, he had shown up to the meeting in a suit and he did keep a box of Kleenex on his desk. But his eyebrows still formed that woolly V when he’d scowled at her as she laid out her loan request. And they’d stayed that way as he left the room to talk to a supervisor.

Janie rubbed her moist palms across her navy pencil skirt, smoothed her hair, and wedged her hands under her legs to keep from fidgeting.

“Can you really afford this?” Hannah tapped at a bobblehead dog at the edge of the desk.

Janie picked up the file again and scanned the numbers. “It will be tight. That’s why I won’t let my parents cosign. They offered but I refused. Bankrupting myself would be bad enough. Bankrupting my family would be a tragedy. But I know your lease is up in a month, and if you wanted to move in we could share rent.”

Hannah’s teeth tugged at her lip. She cleared her throat. “Maybe Thomas—”

“No, Hannah. Don’t.” Tears pressed in at the corners of Janie’s eyes, but she forced them back. “Thomas is part of my past. I’m learning to be content with God alone.”

“You sure you want to close that door?” Hannah studied her before turning to stare out the window. “People make mistakes, you know.”

Was Hannah talking about Thomas’s mistakes or her own? “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t believe in me.”

Hannah opened her mouth but shut it as Eddie stepped back into the room with a file in hand, the woolly V still on his forehead. “The thing is, Miss Mathews, you don’t have the credit or assets needed for this size of a loan.”

Miss Mathews? He’d whined like a baby when she’d turned him down for the homecoming dance in the tenth grade, but now she was Miss Mathews?

He pushed up his thick-rimmed glasses and his brow relaxed for the first time. “Now, if you had a cosigner with some equity, that would be another story.”

“I don’t.”

“I see.” He examined the file in front of him. “The crazy thing is . . . I do.”

“What?” Go into business with Eddie Fry? Her nose twisted before she forced the expression from her face. No reason to insult the guy.

“We had a visitor today who wishes to remain anonymous and is, in fact, willing to cosign. A silent investor, so to speak. He has good credit and equity, and, well . . . his father was a close friend of the bank owner. So, if you agree, then we’ll process this.” He slid a paper across the desk to her. “With a few signatures, I can get the paperwork started.”

Hannah spoke up. “An anonymous cosigner? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“It isn’t our usual practice, but we like to keep things small-town around here. And like I said, he’s a solid member of the community, and Mr. Mackers insisted.” He held out a pen to Janie and tapped the paper where she should sign.

Janie studied him. She wouldn’t sign if it were her father, but who else could it be? He was a close friend of Bo Mackers, the bank owner. Then again, who wasn’t? “Who is it?”

“Would you like me to look up the definition of anonymous for you?” Eddie rolled his eyes and tapped the paper again.

“Tell her, Eddie.” Hannah leaned forward, placing her hands on the desk.

“No.” He leaned back and scanned the paper in front of him, the woolly V back in place. “He’d kick my . . . tail.”

There went the idea of it being her father.

Hannah lunged across the desk and snatched the paper from his hand.

“Ouch.” Eddie stuck his finger in his mouth. “You gave me a paper cut. Take it. It’s your crazy brother, anyway. I told him it was a stupid idea.”

Janie’s heart stopped. “Thomas?”

“I’ll give you two a minute.” Eddie left, his finger still stuck in his mouth. “I’m going to find a Band-Aid.”

Janie grabbed the paper from Hannah. Thomas was putting up his house as equity. His signature was scrawled across the bottom.

Hannah read the paper from over her shoulder. “He did call me this morning and tell me to take the house off the market.”

Janie’s hand began to shake. “Why would he do this?”

“Because he loves you. Because he does believe in you. Because even if he can’t have you, more than anything in life he just wants you to be happy.”

“He told you this?”

“No.” Tears filled Hannah’s eyes. “But I’d do the same for Luke in a heartbeat.”

Janie’s gaze returned to Thomas’s signature scrawled at the bottom under his printed name. Her name was printed out with the line waiting for her signature a few spaces over. Seeing his name next to hers did strange things to her heart.

Hannah laid a gentle hand on her arm. “Remember a few months ago in my apartment you told me not to leave things left unsaid with Luke? Now I’ll throw it back at you. Are you sure you aren’t leaving things left unsaid with Thomas?”

Eddie returned with a sizable bandage on his finger. “What’s the verdict, ladies?”

Janie shook her head and stood with the paper in hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now. I need to go.”

With that, she fled to her car. She needed to think, to pray.

She placed the paper carefully on the seat next to her and started the car. Why, Lord? I was content for it to be just You and me. Why this? Why now?

Once upon a time he’d thought Janie would wear this ring. Thomas pulled the ring from the velvet box, slid it halfway to his knuckle, and inspected the princess-cut diamond in the antique setting. Maybe if Hannah didn’t want it, it was time to sell.

Had he pushed Janie away because he was afraid she’d be like his mom and leave? Maybe. Guilt pricked at his conscience. Okay, definitely. But at the time, he’d really convinced himself he was doing it for her.

He’d told Hannah he’d been praying about it, and that was true. If only the answer would arrive in writing, like an email from God. That’d be awesome.

The chime of his doorbell interrupted his thoughts. He dropped the ring in his shirt pocket as he pulled open the door. “Hey, Nate, what’s up?”

“I think this is yours. ‘Greg Thornton’?” Nate held up the familiar leather Bible. “I think you left it at Bible study.”

“That was my dad’s.” Thomas reached for it. “Thanks.”

Nate spun his keys on his finger and then caught them. “What do you think of the Bible study?”

“It’s good. I just . . .” Thomas shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t know if I have a—whatever you called it—grace thingy.”

“Grace point? It’s not a requirement—just a way of looking at the Bible. Don’t get hung up on this concept. If you’re seeking God, He’ll show you how your life and problem intersect with the gospel.”

“Who said I have a problem?” Why did he say that? Of course he had a problem. More than one.

Nate didn’t react, he just tucked his keys in his pocket. “Most of us do. Some are big and affect the course of our lives. Others are just the problem of the week. But that’s the thing—God wants to offer answers not just for the big ones but for the small ones too.”

“Yeah, I remember you saying that.” Why was he so defensive? Hadn’t he just been telling Hannah some of this same stuff? Well, it was easier when he was looking at someone else’s faults rather than his own.

“Busy now?”

He didn’t really want to talk about it. Then again, he’d been praying for answers, and he couldn’t really lecture Hannah if he wasn’t ready to listen to the advice himself.

Ten minutes later Nate was sitting on Thomas’s couch with a cup of coffee in his hand, listening to the drawn-out saga of him and Janie. Thomas had planned on just sharing the bare bones, but he found it was good to tell someone who wasn’t going to turn around and yell at him for being an idiot. At least he hoped pastors didn’t do that.

“Abraham.” Nate lifted his coffee mug and took a long drink.

Thomas wrinkled his brow. “It was his wife who couldn’t have kids, not him.”

“Abraham’s problem wasn’t that his wife couldn’t have kids.” Nate paused and stared at him. “His problem was he didn’t trust God to handle it and took the matter into his own hands.”

A weight pressed against his chest. That was exactly what he’d done. He hadn’t trusted God with his problem but became angry and set off to do what looked right. He’d lectured Hannah about trying to fix everything her way. Maybe it ran in the family. Or maybe it just ran in human nature.

Nate leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “I’ll tell you this. God’s not done with you. Maybe by a physical miracle like He did with Abraham, or maybe the miracle will come a different way.”

“A different way—like adoption?”

“That’s a decision between you and God. But remember, just because kids come through adoption, foster care, or mentoring at the community center, it never means they’re God’s second best for you. They’re His first choice for you. Maybe there are kids being created or born right now who will be handpicked for you to raise, to love. God will knit them together with you in mind as their father, not the biological dude. You, Thomas.”

Thomas stared at the floor as a strange sensation settled in his chest. He could have a son out there waiting for him right now. Jimmy’s face flashed through his mind. A baby girl could be born this minute—someone he’d raise, he’d love, who would call him Daddy, and who God was making perfect right now just for him.

He struggled to swallow. Not raising someone else’s kids. Raising children meant for him, picked by God for him.

Nate downed the rest of his coffee and stood. “I’ve given you a lot to think about and I have a meeting, so I’ll let myself out. But call me anytime. Okay?”

Thomas nodded and sat back and stared at the ceiling. The latch clicked in the distance and he closed his eyes. Could he really trust God with all this?

A knock at the door echoed through the room. Nate must have forgotten something.

He rushed to the door. “Did—”

Not Nate. Janie.

She held up the document he’d signed at the bank. “What’s this?”

Thomas winced, then dipped his head. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Leave Eddie out of this.” Janie whipped the screen door open and pushed past him. “He didn’t rat you out. Hannah was with me and, well . . . you know Hannah.”

He knew Hannah all right. “Want a seat?”

She dropped into the recliner and then jumped to her feet. “No.” She paced a few feet and whirled to face him again. “Is it a guilt offering? ‘Hey, I won’t marry you, but have a bakery instead.’”

Thomas shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s not a ploy and it’s not out of guilt.”

“Then what? And how did you even know I was applying for the loan?” She turned to pace the other way.

“It’s a small town. People talk. As far as why . . . does it matter?”

“Yes.” Pausing midstep, she held his gaze.

Had she shown up before Nate, he might have come up with some lame excuse and sent her on her way, but he had to stop trying to protect her. He had to be honest. He still didn’t have the answers, but it was time to trust God and Janie with what he did have.

“Because . . . I love you. Because if I could go back, I would’ve asked you to marry me that day we went to the beach like I planned, instead of breaking up with you.” There, he’d said it.

Her face paled as she swallowed and drew a shaky breath. At least he wasn’t the only one having problems breathing here. “We can’t go back.”

“Believe me, I know.” Thomas turned away before he did something crazy like kiss her and beg her to take him back.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was weaker now. “But if you don’t trust me—”

“I do.” He whipped around and cupped her shoulders with his hands. “I’m sorry for letting my issues with my mom get in the way. But you, Janie Abigail Mathews, you I trust. The one I lost faith in was God.” He stared at his father’s Bible sitting by the door. “But He and I have been having a lot of heart-to-heart talks lately. I’m still a work in progress, but the point is that I’m getting things worked out. I understand if it is too late for us, Janie. But I do trust you.”

“What are you doing to me?” Janie sank into the recliner with a thud. “You love me. You leave me. How can I ever believe a word you say again?”

“I don’t know. But if you do”—Thomas stepped closer and squatted by her feet—“I promise to spend the rest of my life being honest with you about my struggles.”

The rest of his life? Where had that come from? He didn’t know, but now that it was out it sounded so good to him. He wanted her next to him, pursuing God’s best with him, working through the hard parts of life with him. He wanted it to start right now.

“You still want to marry me?” Her voice came out breathy.

Thomas reached into his pocket, pulled out the ring, and held it out to her. “More than anything.”

Janie’s eyes widened. She reached out a hesitant finger and touched the stone. “That’s beautiful.”

“It was my Grandma Hazel’s.” His voice caught and he cleared his throat.

“I heard you tell Hannah you wanted it to stay in the family. What if we can’t have kids?”

“We’ll have kids, Janie. Naturally or handpicked by God for us. Either way, I believe God will give us a son to pass it on to. Or a daughter.” His eyes filled with moisture and he blinked it away. “God might just be creating a little girl right now for us to love. How awesome is that?”

“Pretty awesome.” Tears filled her eyes.

“So what do you say? Marry me, Janie.”

Janie wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her mouth to his.

Her lips were as soft as he remembered and tasted of lip balm. He released a groan as a year of absence washed over him. He pulled her to her feet and crushed her against him. She fit right here—how could he ever have thought differently? He kissed the soft skin along her jaw and then found her lips again. He’d missed every inch of her.

Janie leaned back a fraction, seeming to catch her breath. “I love you.”

Thomas brushed her hair away from her face. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes. I’ll marry you.” She brushed her lips against his. “But I won’t let you cosign.”

“But—”

Her hand covered his lips. “Because if we’re getting married, then we’re both taking out this loan. After all, you need a diner if you’re going to be a cook.”

“Buy both?”

“Why not?”

He captured her lips again, deepening the kiss. For months he’d been begrudging his future. Now he couldn’t wait. Because no matter what came their way, they’d be in it together.