His Daughter's Prayer (Love Inspired)

by Danielle Thorne

  Callie tossed the bag full of candlestick holders into the back seat and pulled out of the parking lot. What did it matter if Mark could see she was attracted to him?

  She pulled up outside her office window. Studying the train depot, she realized she should be grateful she had a job staging furniture for the summer, even if she had to see Mark.

  Maybe she really could make it here. Things seemed to be falling into place. She’d even survived seeing Mark again. She sucked in a long breath and let it out in a slow stream. Once upon a time, he’d swept her off her feet and then broken her heart, but that was eons ago. She was over it.

  * * *

  Mark caught himself smiling after Callie left the shop. She was still the same energetic, on-the-go girl, dashing out as quickly as she’d dashed in.

  Traffic had eased. At lunchtime, the town square became congested with minivans and pickup trucks. He glanced through the window and saw the clock on the courthouse tower read one thirty.

  Jake’s footsteps came pounding down the stairs, so Mark walked back to meet him.

  “It’s a good thing you had the water turned off upstairs,” Jake said.

  “What’s the problem?”

  Jake held up a familiar-looking doll with a fish tail. “I’m pretty sure this mermaid stuck in a pipe was the root of your problem.”

  He grinned, and Mark tried to keep from groaning. Most people in town had seen Hadley in action, either at the market or the ball field or the grocery store. “How much do I owe you for today?”

  “I can fix the leak, change out the damaged flooring up there, and put another ceiling tile in for you for about five hundred dollars.”

  Mark nodded. His gut instincts told him insurance wouldn’t cover a pipe clogged by a preschooler’s doll. He would have to sell his baseball card collection for sure, and that meant money not going to the bank for the late rent. “Sounds fair,” he agreed, “although I can replace the ceiling tile myself.”

  Jake trotted out to his truck with a promise to return later that day.

  Mark soon realized he was starved. He generally ate his lunch late after the lunch crowd and shoppers had dwindled down. Grabbing his ball cap and sunglasses from behind the counter, he strode to the door and flipped the sign from Open to Closed and headed to the Grub ’n’ Go.

  The front windows were painted with giant red block letters, and there were farm animals holding forks and knives drawn on the walls. He’d eaten there all of his life.

  He pulled opened the bright red door and walked in, his shoulders relaxing at the comforting smells of grilled hot dogs and deep-fried onion rings. A chalkboard on the wall announced that Tuesday’s specials were the bacon avocado BLT, the Italian sub and the mushroom burger.

  The cashier, Gabby Hayes, fresh out of high school, smiled at him. “Hi, Mr. Chatham, what’ll you have today?”

  He wondered if he came in too often. “Mushroom burger, onion rings and a Coke, please.”

  Her wavy hair reminded him of Callie in high school.

  “Will that be all?” she asked.

  “Yes, thanks, that’s it.”

  “How’s Hadley doing?”

  “She’s good. She’s in pre-K these days.”

  “For the summer?”

  “It’s a special program.”

  She nodded like she understood, and Mark handed her cash, picked up a number in a metal stand to set on his table and went to fill his cup at the soda fountain. He tried not to feel ancient. With a forlorn thought, he realized forty wasn’t that far away anymore, and he was still alone.

  He corrected himself. He wasn’t alone. He had a wonderful daughter. Hadley was his life now.

  The corner table by the front window was free, and Mark walked over, sipping his soda. Folks outside ambled up and down the sidewalks, hurrying from the law office, the drugstore or the courthouse. He sat down to people-watch.

  “Goldie?”

  He looked up with a start. Darla Perez stood beside him, holding a giant fruit smoothie. “How are you, Darla?” Remembering his manners, Mark stood up to shake her hand.

  “I’m doing fine. I haven’t seen you since the summer preschool orientation. How are you and Hadley doing? Is she liking school?”

  He glanced out the window, certain he shouldn’t tell the mother of his daughter’s classmate that Hadley hated it and threw a fit every morning when they had to leave. “She’s doing okay, I suppose, although she’d prefer to go to work with me.”

  Darla gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s hard, believe me. It doesn’t seem like a bad idea for her to hang out with you at work,” she added. “I thought it was cute seeing her running around the Market.”

  Mark appreciated her kindness. Hadley often wreaked havoc on the days he brought her to the Market with him. “The doctor thought it’d be a good idea to have her play with other children before she started kindergarten.”

  Darla nodded. “I know it’s been a rough start, but I haven’t heard anything much since she cut Logan’s hair with the teacher’s scissors.”

  “I’m so sorry about that.”

  “Oh, it’s okay.” Darla waved him off. “I’m sure my son was just as involved.”

  Mark grimaced. “She spends a lot of time in time-out.” He didn’t mention the constant stream of notes reporting his daughter pushing and hitting other children.

  Darla patted him on the arm. “Hang in there. If I can survive three boys, you can handle a sweet busy bee like Hadley.”

  “Thanks,” he murmured.

  “It’s no problem,” she reassured him. “Let Calvin and I know if there’s anything we can do for you.”

  Mark nodded, somewhat embarrassed that half the town knew he needed parenting advice. She hurried off as her cell phone rang, and he sat back down.

  At that moment, Gabby brought his food over. For a moment, he felt guilty as he sank his teeth into the burger. He’d packed Hadley a half sandwich, clumsily chopped carrot sticks and two graham crackers. Lois did better, and thinking of Callie’s attention to detail, he imagined she would be a marvel. He wondered what she’d think of his little girl and what she thought of him as a father.

  He closed his eyes and made a promise to himself to take Hadley out for a treat on the weekend.

  Chapter Four

  Callie found herself at a real estate listing at four thirty. She would miss the delivery from the Antique Market. She frowned at every forgotten cobweb in the corners of the Pierce farmhouse. The cleaning crew had done a pretty good job, but Callie couldn’t work her magic with spiderwebs fluttering in the drafts.

  She glanced around the room and imagined which pieces would work best where. Admiring the original wood floors, she trotted to the kitchen to decide on a position for the hutch. Mark had said he’d deliver everything to the depot around five. She glanced at the time on her phone again. She still had the bedrooms upstairs to reevaluate, and that meant she’d end up trying new layouts until she was exhausted. She hated to miss him, although she wondered if seeing him so often was a good idea. It seemed every time she did, she spent the rest of the day convincing herself the past was the past.

  She noticed she’d missed a call from Amanda and hit the call back button.

  “Hey!” Her sister sounded out of breath. “Are you still at the farmhouse?”

  Callie nodded despite being on the phone. “Yes. This place is stunning, but your crew missed some cobwebs on the ceiling.”

  “Oh, no. I’ll send someone back out. How long are you going to be?”

  “I wanted to look over the bedrooms again, but I’ll probably head back soon.”

  “You might as well. They took out every light bulb they could get their fingers on before the place was auctioned off. You won’t have any light.”

  “Yes, I noticed that,” Callie complained. She started up
the back stairs that led to a bedroom in a narrow tower. “The tiles have to stay, of course, unless you want to flip the whole bathroom, but I like the black-and-white tile. It’s retro.”

  “I think so, too.”

  “The place is gorgeous. Practically a Victorian,” Callie said. She looked down the gorgeous upstairs hall of the house where the original trim still framed the doorways. “They don’t make them like this anymore.”

  Her sister made a sound of agreement.

  “By the way,” Callie added, “I saw Mark again today. I bought a few things from his shop, so I have a hutch coming in this afternoon that needs to be put in the storage room.”

  “Who’s bringing it over?”

  “He is.”

  “I didn’t know he made deliveries.”

  “I didn’t want to bother Todd, and Mark said he had a truck anyway.”

  “That was nice of him.” Callie could hear her sister smiling through the other end of the phone. “Don’t you think he’s still a good-looking guy?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s just business.” Callie rolled her eyes at her sister through the phone as she walked into the master bedroom. There was nothing but an old dresser against the wall. “This dresser’s a piece of junk,” she mumbled.

  “That’s why they left it. Might as well work your magic on it. We don’t have to sell it with the house, we just need it to look good.”

  “All right.” Callie sighed. “I’ve already reserved those twin beds in storage. We’ll need them here. We have to find some kind of showpiece for this master bedroom.”

  Amanda groaned. “We don’t have the budget for something like that.”

  Callie’s heart sank with frustration. “I’ll figure something out.”

  “Great. How about dinner? What time do you think you’ll be back?”

  Callie glanced through a bare window at the heavy beams of afternoon sunshine. “Maybe six?”

  “That’ll work. Come on over as soon as you’re done.”

  “Your house?”

  Amanda laughed. “Of course my house. I’ve got two kids and the old ball and chain. It’s spaghetti night.”

  “Nice. I’ll be there.”

  Spaghetti with the family sounded wonderful to Callie, and besides, she loved seeing the kids more often now.

  The driveway at Amanda’s house had no room for Callie, with the minivan and Todd’s truck taking up space. He high-fived her when he answered the door and told her she didn’t have to knock. “Amanda’s in the kitchen,” he said, walking back to the couch.

  Callie raised a brow at him as she passed through the living room. “Why aren’t you helping her?”

  He waved the television remote. “She said I could watch baseball.”

  The kitchen smelled like garlic and bread. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Callie slumped down onto the wooden bench at the dinner table. Amanda had her back to her, doing a hundred things at once.

  “Do you want me to help? You look like an octopus.”

  Her sister laughed. “No, I got it. You know I like to do it myself. But you can set the table.”

  Callie obeyed, getting up to explore the cupboards.

  “Did you get finished up at the farmhouse?” Amanda asked.

  Callie nodded. “I have some notes and sketches. I’ll finalize the layout soon. All I need to do now is find a bed frame, get a hold of that hutch and get it stripped down.”

  Amanda put down a spoon with a clatter and licked her finger. “That’ll be cute. Are you sure you don’t want to repaint the walls?”

  Callie’s stomach rumbled. She found the plates and grabbed a stack of five. “I’d repaint it if it was mine, but the white works. I wouldn’t waste the money.”

  “You waste money?” Amanda looked at her and laughed.

  “I know, I know,” Callie said in mock defense. “I’m trying to do better.”

  “Well, if you’ve almost paid off your credit cards, you can start saving for a lease on a shop. Just stay focused.”

  “I’m trying.” Callie rifled through the kitchen drawers for silverware. “Where’d you get this?” She held up a spoon.

  “They’re new.”

  “They’re cute. I really like them.” Callie held up a butter knife and studied the handle. “I liked your old ones, though.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Amanda pouted. “They’re pretty and shiny and I like them.”

  “Speaking of pretty and shiny,” Callie said, “Mark thinks that every time I walk into that shop I’m there to bother him about the spoons. Thing is, he’s right. They’re gorgeous. I can’t figure out why he won’t let them go other than they belonged to his mother and grandmother.”

  Amanda turned off the stove burners, then collapsed onto the bench beside her. “He does okay business, but he definitely has a mind of his own. I tried to help him move the hutch in when he came by the depot this afternoon, but he flat out refused.”

  Callie wrinkled a brow. “He moved that thing all by himself?”

  “No, he had help. Jake Barton was there, and Hadley came along, so I was running back and forth trying to keep her off the train tracks. I thought Mark would lose his mind.”

  Callie could imagine him chiding his daughter over and over. She was liking this little girl more and more. “Did they get it moved in okay?”

  “Yeah, that and another table.”

  “The tall side table?” Callie asked. “He gave me a good deal on the hutch, so I bought the table, too.”

  Amanda grinned. “I’m sure he did.”

  “It was just business.”

  “Well, he’s still totally single. I can’t remember the last person he dated.”

  The brief haunted look she’d caught in Mark’s eyes when he mentioned his elopement stabbed Callie with guilt. “Do you think it’s anything I did? Is there something wrong with me?” Her eyes bloomed with tears against her will.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you.” Amanda leaned over and gave her a long hug. “Just live your life until the man you’re meant to grow old with shows up at your door.”

  Callie sighed. “I already am old.”

  Amanda laughed. “You’re not even in your prime. Don’t worry about it. Live your life until you meet someone you don’t want to let go of, then settle down.”

  “I tried that once.”

  The sound of the kids running around the backyard broke up the quiet. Callie felt the corners of her mouth twitch. “I guess it worked out, though, because I didn’t end up with a house full of rug rats.”

  Amanda stood up. “You’ll want rug rats one of these days.”

  Callie smiled. “Maybe.”

  Chapter Five

  Mark slept like the dead the Tuesday night after a two-hour practice at the softball field. Luckily, Lois had watched Hadley, but they both still went to bed late.

  When he dragged himself into Hadley’s room to wake her up the next morning, he found his daughter under the bed with her legs sticking out. Her wiggling feet told him she was awake. He slunk down onto the floor. She was still unaware of his presence. Her ankles bobbed up and down, and he grabbed one of her toes and tickled it.

  She giggled. Then a thump from underneath the bed told him she’d bumped her head. He chuckled as the feet disappeared out of sight, then her bright eyes emerged out from under the rail.

  “Daddy.” Her irritated frown made him smile.

  “Daddy, what?”

  “I know that was you, Daddy.”

  He leaned down so their noses almost touched. “What are you doing under there?”

  A sly looked passed over her face. “Nothing.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Hadley pursed her lips, then stuck her arm out. She was holding his best flashlight.

  “Give me that,” he chid
ed, taking it from her as she wormed her way out from beneath the bed. Her rumpled blue-and-white nightgown had a dusty streak over the chest. She sat up and stared at him adorably.

  “What were you doing with Daddy’s flashlight?”

  Hadley sniffed, wiped her nose with the back of her hand and sat down beside him. She had a red crayon in her other hand.

  Mark closed his eyes and counted to five. “Were you coloring under the bed?”

  “No. Can I go to work with you today?”

  “No.”

  She frowned, and her shoulders slumped.

  “Hadley, what were you doing with the crayon under the bed?”

  She wiggled her feet back and forth, pretending like she didn’t hear him.

  “What did you do?” Mark hated to sound angry, but he didn’t have time to clean up another mess.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “I don’t want to go to school.”

  Mark scooped her up.

  She melted into him. “Can I go to the Market with you?”

  He wrapped his arms around her and dropped his head back onto the bed behind him. “Again, no, but you can stay with me after school.”

  “I don’t like Lois’s house, it smells like—” She pinched her nose and shook her head.

  Mark chuckled and squeezed her. “Well, that’s just cabbage you smell. They eat a lot of it.”

  Hadley held on to her nose. “I don’t like it.”

  Mark took the crayon out of her other fist and set it on her antique nightstand. It’d been his mother’s table. “Did you color on the floor under the bed?”

  “No.” She buried her face in his armpit. “The air box is ugly.”

  “The what? Do you mean the vent?” Mark sighed. “You colored the air vent?”

  “It’s not dirty anymore.”

  “Thank you,” he said in a wry tone. “Did you color on the floor?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Now we need to get ready for work.”

  “I’m going with you?”

  “No, my work is the Market. Yours is school.”