His Daughter's Prayer (Love Inspired)

by Danielle Thorne

  “It’s beautiful, honey,” Mark said. “Here, finish this drink now.”

  Hadley ignored him and darted back off. Callie grinned and took another sip from her bottle, eyes studying the distant blue sky. “I’ve always loved it here. It’s quieter than most places, and there aren’t too many boats around.”

  “It’ll pick up this afternoon, but you’re right, there are more crowded places to be.”

  “You’re lucky you still have this nearby.”

  He sat back and studied her. “You do, too.”

  She smiled. “For now. I wasn’t sure I was going to like being back home.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Callie fell quiet for a few seconds, then said, “I really liked living in a city. I just...got homesick once in a while.”

  Mark nodded. He’d felt that way in Florida.

  “Not so much for home but just for the water and the trees and some place to go sit when you’ve had enough...” She waved her hand in the air. “Sometimes I just needed time alone with nature and God.”

  “You didn’t visit your folks much.”

  She lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “I came back every once in a while. Things just didn’t get better with Mom.”

  “Why not?”

  “Amanda was the good kid. I struggled in school keeping up with stuff.” She sighed. “I figured it out eventually, though, what I needed to do to function.”

  He frowned and for some reason thought of Hadley. “I’m sorry you went through that. I just thought of you as a happy-go-lucky kid.”

  “It’s fine. Dad and I are good. He’s disappointed I didn’t move back in with him, but I don’t want to be in a crowded neighborhood.”

  “I understand. That’s why I joined the Coast Guard. I love the beach, and I wanted to see the world. I was burned out from baseball. I’d played since I was in kindergarten.”

  Callie nodded. She clearly remembered.

  “It took over my life in high school.” Mark wanted her to understand. “My parents pressured me to do well, and I did, but it all became too much.”

  “Why didn’t you ever try the swim team?” Callie asked him.

  “I thought about it, but I had to give it up for the baseball team. And to keep Dad happy.”

  Callie patted him on the back. “I never knew that. I guess that’s what happens when you’re so talented.”

  He made a sarcastic sound. “I wasn’t that talented. It was just something I liked to do, so I worked hard at it—until it got to be too much.”

  “I’m sorry you were so overwhelmed. I hope I wasn’t a part of that. I didn’t realize the pressure you were under.” She made a soft snorting sound. “No one had high expectations for me. That’s Amanda’s department.”

  Mark sat up, surprised at her self-deprecation. “Are you kidding? I haven’t seen any of the houses you’ve staged, but I’m sure by the way your sister talks about you, they’re amazing.”

  Callie’s cheeks flushed. “I’ll show you pictures of some houses I’ve staged some time.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Their eyes met, and his mind went blank. She seemed hesitant, and he wondered if she was trying to think of something to say or just remembering the past.

  “I’m going to eat my granola bar now,” she blurted. She fidgeted with the bag in her hands. “Want one?”

  “No. Yes. Sure,” Mark grimaced at his idiocy. He glanced up to see where Hadley was. She was throwing handfuls of mud, and her shirt was smeared with it.

  He watched Callie unwrap the granola bar and realized sadly that she wasn’t interested in him in the old way anymore. The last thing she needed was a guy like him—a man with no big-city ambitions—hiding out in an antiques shop with ancient furniture, creepy dolls and a motherless child.

  * * *

  Sunday morning Callie decided to go to church. She made it on time and sat with her sister’s family, squeezed in between Justin and Nicole. Then she noticed Mark sitting in the back with Hadley and an older couple. Trying not to appear nosy, she turned back to the service.

  Afterward, Callie made her way down the aisle to say hello. Hadley jumped up on the pew and opened her arms wide like she expected a hug. Everyone stared, so Callie gave the little girl a squeeze. Her hair was knotty and slipping out of a soft terry hair band.

  “Callie, this is Frank and Lois Ridley,” Mark said, motioning toward the couple beside him. “Lois babysits Hadley for me when she’s not minding the store.”

  “Ah,” Callie said. “I was hoping to run into you sometime, at the store, I mean.” She gave Mark a teasing grin. “There’s a set of spoons I’m very interested in.”

  Mark must have told Lois and her husband the story because they both laughed. The woman shook her head. “Those spoons were Mark’s mother’s pride and joy. They came all the way from Rhode Island after the Civil War.”

  “It’s a long story,” Mark added.

  Suddenly Hadley clutched onto his shoulders. “I’m hungry, Daddy.”

  “We better get you some lunch,” Lois declared.

  “I just wanted to say hi,” Callie said with a chuckle. Lois took Hadley by the hand and led her away. Callie turned to Mark. “And thanks again for yesterday,” she added.

  His eyes brightened. “I had fun. I mean, we had fun, Hadley and I.” He glanced up at the dwindling crowd and nodded to Gabby from the diner.

  “I was up all night watching hair-braiding videos,” he confessed.

  “You were?” For some reason, Callie found that endearing.

  “I’m going to practice on her tonight if she’ll let me.”

  “I suspect she will.” Callie glanced toward the door where Hadley had disappeared. “I remember getting into trouble a lot as a kid, and no one ever asked me for an explanation—a real one.”

  “I’m glad you pointed that out.” Mark looked at her with serious eyes. “I had no idea kids were being mean to her because of her hair, I just thought it was because, you know...”

  “She’s pretty active,” Callie agreed. “Don’t be surprised if she takes a while to adjust to school. Just be patient.”

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  “No, thank you. I had a great time yesterday, and she’s a cutie.”

  Mark let a small smile escape. “You just think so because she hasn’t flushed anything down your pipes yet.”

  They parted, and Callie hurried over to Amanda’s house to help with lunch. It’d felt nice to go to church. It had been even better to see Mark there. Amanda had told her he seldom came, usually sending Hadley with her sitter.

  Callie sighed, washing out a pot in the sink. “Why don’t you just make sandwiches for lunch? No wonder you’re tired all the time.”

  Amanda laughed. “Todd and the kids eat sandwiches all week long.”

  Callie grudgingly admired her dedication. Filling the pot with water for pasta, she gazed out the window at the kids’ hound dog in the backyard. Buster was chasing a butterfly as he loped across the yard like an antelope. She chuckled. “Your dog is nuts.”

  “That’s why he fits in.” Amanda stirred a pot of cheese, eggs and sour cream on the stove for homemade mac and cheese. “So, how’d yesterday go? You said you’d tell me later.”

  Callie turned off the faucet and leaned back against the sink. “It was a lot of fun actually, but it wasn’t a date. He brought Hadley.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Seriously, it wasn’t.”

  Amanda smiled and stuck out her tongue. “Did he open the door for you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did he help you in and out of the water?”

  Callie rolled her eyes. “He’s a gentleman.”

  “Good listener?”

  “Of course. You already know that.”

  “How’d he look?
”

  “What do you mean, how’d he look? He looked like himself.”

  “Did you all swim?”

  Callie turned back to the sink to hide her cheeks. They felt warm. “Yeah, we swam a little. Right before we went back to the truck. It was so hot I just jumped into the middle of the lake, then he helped me back in, and we took turns with Hadley.”

  “Hmm...”

  “Not a big deal.”

  “So no sweet talk for old times’ sake?”

  Callie burst into laughter. “With a child there? No. We just talked. I told you, we’re just friends now.” She plopped the pot onto the stove, and water splashed back onto her arms. “If I want to find a date, I’ll use my dating app.”

  Amanda laughed. “It didn’t do you any good in Nashville. Just try it the old-fashioned way.”

  “It works for lots of people, and besides, I was too busy trying to do something with my life.”

  Amanda poured dry macaroni into the boiling water. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  Callie forced a smile. “I thought I’d have a successful shop by now instead of trying to hold down a job.”

  “You’ve only been here a few weeks,” Amanda reminded her, “and we’ve already sold a house that you went through and suggested changes.”

  Callie was pleased in spite of herself. “Yeah, but I haven’t had any time to look at any more commercial spaces or run any numbers.”

  “You’re doing great. With all that land on the Pierce property, we needed the farmhouse to look fabulous to justify the price. It looks amazing.”

  “Drab to fab,” Callie agreed. “All I have left to do is refinish the hutch.”

  “Awesome. I’m going to go ahead and get it listed this week.”

  “Perfect. I could use the cash.”

  “Now,” Amanda said, “do you still have feelings for him or what?”

  Callie found herself staring into the almost boiling water. “I could,” she said. “I mean, I loved him once.” She heard Amanda’s sharp intake of breath and waved the spoon at her. “Don’t go there. He’s a heartbreaker. It would just end up not working out. It’d be a disaster, and I’d be the girl who got dumped by Ragland’s golden boy. Twice!”

  Amanda moved to the sink and started washing a mixing bowl. Her silence made Callie try to believe she could never love Mark again, even if deep down inside she knew it’d be easy.

  “He’s no heartbreaker, I can tell you that. He just doesn’t have a whole lot of faith in people.” Amanda’s voice sounded thoughtful.

  Callie could see that. “Well, I know something happened between him and Hadley’s mother, but he acts like he let the whole town down because he didn’t go to the minor leagues.”

  “Ancient history. Nobody talks about that anymore.” Amanda rinsed the bowl and set it on the sideboard to drain. “He doesn’t date much, you know. If he does, it never lasts.”

  For some reason, this made Callie feel strange relief. “I hope he doesn’t think I wasted my life moving to Nashville instead of hanging around and waiting on him.”

  “You didn’t, Callie, and don’t worry, you’re still the kind of woman he needs.”

  * * *

  There was an hour before he had to be at the Antique Market Monday morning, so Mark walked down the driveway to get the weekend’s mail. He’d planned to take Hadley into her class and sit with her awhile to observe, but they were running late. The air smelled like honeysuckle. He reached the mailbox and flipped the lid down, expecting nothing. There was a flyer for the hardware store and two white envelopes.

  He pulled his pocketknife out to slit one open as he walked back up to the house. He opened it expecting to see McIntyre’s signature. It was a form letter. Frowning, he read the late bill notice. They’d sent him one last month even though he’d called, and again for June, even though he’d tried to explain his situation out already. Frustrated, he crumpled the letter and envelope into a stiff ball.

  McIntyre would be at the ball field tomorrow night, probably with his team. Maybe he needed a long, detailed explanation in person. Sales were down since Christmas. There’d been unexpected expenses. Trying to maintain a small business on the town square was a challenge, especially with the high rent McIntyre was charging this year.

  After leaving Hadley at school, Mark headed over to the Grub ’n’ Go for a late breakfast. He grabbed a biscuit from the take-out counter and maneuvered through the crowd, nodding hello to Mrs. Bake from the florist shop and the other shop owners. He’d almost made it out of the store when someone called his name.

  Lois stood in the back of the line, motioning at him. He hurried up beside her.

  “Did Hadley make it to school?”

  “Yes,” Mark said with a sigh of relief. “I used the tangle spray you gave me and managed a simple braid, and she was happy enough with that.”

  “That’s good.” Lois lifted her readers off her nose. “Did you talk with her about pulling hair and throwing things?”

  “I didn’t see the point of doing that again. We talked this weekend. I mean I really talked to her and tried to ask the right questions.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

  “I hope so.”

  Lois shook her head. “No, I don’t mean right away. It’s going to take time. She has to learn how to make friends and how to control her temper.”

  “Right,” agreed Mark.

  “Don’t worry. She’ll grow out of this with a little direction.”

  “Thanks.” The line moved up, and he walked beside her. “Can I buy your breakfast?”

  “No,” Lois said with a smile. “By the way, where is your friend today?”

  Mark forced a chuckle and looked away.

  “It’s okay,” his mother’s old friend said gently. “You can have a life and a little girl, too.”

  He shrugged. “I’m busy. I have the store to worry about, and I do play on the softball team.”

  “I know.” Lois smirked. “But that’s not the life I’m talking about. You know she’s praying for her now.”

  “Who?”

  “Hadley. Every time she says prayers, she asks for a mommy instead of a cat.”

  Mark felt his face flush. “She’s added that lately.”

  “Who knows if it’s been on her mind even before that?”

  It pained him to think his daughter already felt like there was a hole in her life.

  Lois patted his arm. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

  Mark forced a smile, waved goodbye and hurried out. Hadley was a precocious child. She couldn’t possibly mean anything with her prayers. She hardly knew Callie at all. And why would Callie ever consider giving him a second chance after what he’d done to her?

  That ship had sailed a long time ago.

  Chapter Eight

  Callie made it to the Pierce farmhouse by nine on Monday morning. The cool air felt refreshing, and she enjoyed every breath of it because she knew the day would heat up fast. The yard smelled like fresh-cut grass, and the breeze carried something sweet on it along with the chatter of birds.

  She did a final walk-through of the house, satisfied that everything was in place. The new bed frame was set up in the master bedroom, and a gas stove and fridge stood in the kitchen.

  She’d filled an old milk pitcher with dried wildflowers and baby’s breath and positioned it in the middle of the dining table and its place settings. It looked like a breakfast dream with the windows casting lovely rays of early morning sunshine into the room. She walked over and opened one of the windows to freshen the stale air. A wonderful breeze whooshed inside.

  Setting her purse and keys on the counter, Callie walked to the back porch. Against a wall, the hutch was covered with a canvas tarp. She pulled it off and got to work.

  After thirty minutes, she’d tote
d in her supply box from the car, wiped down the hutch with a damp cloth, dried it and removed most of the hardware. All that was left was to pull out the drawers and remove the two lower cabinet doors.

  Crouching down, Callie breathed in the pleasant smell of old wood finish like good medicine. She eased out the left drawer and peered inside. To her surprise, the drawer track was made of wood instead of metal, but it still looked solid. It would at least need to be tightened down.

  She wiped out the drawer opening with her dust cloth, then turned to the second drawer. It came out most of the way but got stuck before she could get it all the way out. She pulled gently, but it refused to budge. She wiggled it, and it gave a little.

  She wiggled a little harder and tugged forward. After squinting into the cracks to see, Callie stood up and jiggled the drawer up and down. It finally surrendered, and she eased it out, hoping she hadn’t bent the track or broken the slide.

  The drawer fell into her hands, and she flipped it over and looked at the bottom. It appeared a little marked up, but not too bad. It’d caught on something.

  She squatted back down and stuck her hand into the dark space. The edges of the track were smooth. It did feel a little sideways, definitely not straight. Frowning, she saw something against the hutch’s back and reached for it. It looked like a piece of silverware.

  Callie closed her fingers around a smooth, cool spoon and pulled it out triumphantly.

  This was no ordinary piece of flatware. The spoon looked tarnished, which meant it could be silver. She studied the delicate etching marks that framed the handle and the curious dip of the mouth. Turning it over, she noted a maker’s mark.

  Mark’s spoon rack at the shop flashed in her mind. Maybe she could sell it to him... No, that wouldn’t be right. It’d been in the hutch he’d sold to her.

  She waffled back and forth about what was fair, then tossed the spoon into her supply box and made a mental note to deal with it later. At the very least she could keep it as a good luck charm. When she went back to check her phone messages, she saw that Amanda had not called after all.