The House that Love Built

by Beth Wiseman

  Brooke nodded. “Nighttime is when it all hits me, after the kids are asleep.”

  “I bet they give you a lot of comfort though.” Owen smiled. “By the way, does Spencer know we’re having dinner?”

  Brooke smiled. “Yes. And he was very okay about it.” She pointed her fork at him. “But I’m pretty sure he just wants another shot at looking for that bunker.”

  “You have great kids.” Owen thought about sweet little Meghan and the way she’d taken his hand and snuggled up against him. He figured by the time he got over Virginia—if that ever happened—and found someone else to love, he’d probably be too old to have children. He hated her for that too.

  “Thank you.” Brooke’s face lit up. “They really are great.”

  They both passed on dessert, but Owen wasn’t in any hurry to go back to his lonely old house. Brooke was great company, easy to talk to, and he felt they were crossing over into more of a real friendship. It was nice. For the next hour, they sipped coffee and talked. Brooke shared her frustration about the situation with her mother and father. Several times she’d blinked back tears.

  “I hope you can forgive your father,” Owen finally said. “For your sake. Life is short.”

  Brooke looked at him long and hard. “The pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you say?”

  Owen nodded. “I guess so. I don’t see myself forgiving Virginia anytime soon.” He paused. “But I’m fortunate to have a good relationship with my parents—even if they deserted me and moved to Florida.” He grinned but quickly grew serious. “He’s the only dad you’ve got, Brooke.”

  “I know it’s wrong for me not to forgive him. I really do. And I’ve talked to God about this. But I just can’t do it.”

  It was the first mention of God between them, and Owen wanted to know if she was as angry at God as he was. “Did you, uh, have a strong faith before Travis died?”

  She smiled. “I still do. Without God, I don’t think I would have survived everything. Have you joined a church since you’ve moved here?”

  Owen just stared at her for a few moments. “No.”

  “Our church is great. It’s small, but we have a really good pastor and a wonderful group of people.”

  Owen avoided her eyes. “I don’t think church is for me. Or God.” When he looked up at Brooke, her expression was more solemn than he’d ever seen.

  “You don’t believe in God?”

  Owen thought she looked like she was holding her breath. “I guess I believe in Him. I just don’t have anything to say to Him.”

  Brooke nodded. “I guess it could have gone that way for me when Travis died. I was so angry. But not at God.”

  “How could you not be angry at God? He ripped your husband out of your life and left you to raise your children alone.”

  “Yes.” She leaned back as if she’d just been splashed in the face with water. “And I’ll probably never understand why.”

  Owen shook his head. “Sorry. But I lost my faith the day I walked in on Virginia and Gary.”

  “Maybe you just need time.” She pulled her napkin from her lap and put it on her plate—a clear signal that she was through with this meal.

  “Nope. I don’t think so.” Something had drastically changed between them in the past minute. “You ready to go?”

  “Yeah, it’s getting late.” She looked at her watch. “Wow. We’ve been here for almost three hours. Thank you for dinner and the conversation.”

  She was being overly polite, and Owen had the strangest feeling she wouldn’t want to spend any more time with him. That should have been okay, but it wasn’t.

  He prayed silently for the second time this evening. Go ahead, punish me some more. Take away the only friend I’ve got in this town.

  When they pulled into her driveway, he wasn’t sure what to do. He knew that a gentleman would walk his date to the door. But this wasn’t really a date. And what was he supposed to do when he got there? Hug her good-bye?

  The problem was solved when she took off her seat belt, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you again for dinner.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She was just about to close the car door when she pulled it wide again.

  “Owen?”

  “Yeah?”

  She bit her lip for a moment. “Would you like to come with me and the kids to church tomorrow?”

  Owen swallowed hard. “Brooke . . .”

  She waited, her eyes pleading with him. It wasn’t her job to save him, but it was sweet of her to try. Selfishly, he didn’t factor God into the request, but instead wondered if maybe his presence at church would ensure that they would stay friends. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say yes.

  “I can’t, Brooke. Sorry.”

  Sixteen

  When Hunter didn’t show up for work Monday, Owen was angry. But about an hour into assessing everything he needed to do, his gut told him to take a drive.

  When he pulled up to the curb at Hunter’s house, he almost felt guilty about the way he and Virginia had lived when there were people like Hunter and his grandma living like this. He’d enjoyed the baseball game with Hunter, and he’d thought Hunter liked his job. So where was he?

  He knocked on the door, and when no one answered, he pounded on it.

  “Hang on. Just a minute!”

  It was a woman’s voice—Hunter’s grandma, he presumed. Hunter had said she was sick, and Owen hoped he hadn’t awakened her. She opened the door a few inches, scowling, her gray hair tousled as if she’d just gotten up.

  “I’m looking for Hunter Lewis.”

  The woman pulled the door wide as she tied a band around a bedraggled pink robe. “What’s he done now?”

  “Nothing. I’m Owen Saunders. He works for me.” Owen tried to see past her and into the house, but she blocked his view.

  “I told that boy he was going to blow this job.” She huffed, shook her head. “Wait here.”

  Owen could hear her muffled yelling. A few minutes later Hunter was at the door, head hanging.

  Owen folded his arms across his chest. “You quitting on me already?”

  Hunter didn’t look up or say anything.

  “Look, if you need a day off or something, you just have to ask me. But don’t just not show up.”

  Grandma was no longer in sight. Hunter stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. “Sorry.”

  Owen was thinking he should have known better than to hire this kid. “That’s it? Sorry? So are you done? You quit?”

  Hunter looked up, and Owen wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a shiner like the one on Hunter’s left eye. Owen swallowed hard. “Who did that?”

  Hunter didn’t say anything, but his bottom lip was starting to quiver.

  Owen was trying to picture how that small, frail woman could do this to Owen, and he quickly ruled that out. Had Hunter done something to get himself into more trouble with the police?

  “I hope the other kid looks half as bad as you do.” Owen leaned closer to get a better look, and Hunter started to shake.

  “It weren’t with no other kid, okay?” He shook his head. “Just go. You would’ve fired me pretty soon anyways.” He turned to go back in the house, but Owen grabbed his arm.

  “Hey.” He kept a firm grip. “I thought you were doing great work at my house. I didn’t have any plans to fire you. If someone did this to you—and it was unprovoked—then you should press charges.”

  Hunter shook loose, turned, and half-smiled. “You’re kiddin’ me, right? Guess I’m supposed to go to that judge who hates me already and tell him my dad knocked the you-know-what out of me. I bet they’d send someone right over to pick him up.”

  Owen didn’t say anything for a few moments until his blood cooled. “Is your father here now?”

  “No. They was only here for the weekend.” Hunter chuckled, but then grimaced as he reached for his eye. “Just long enough to come home and—”

  “Get yo
ur shoes on. We’re going to go file charges.” Fury was about to choke him, but Owen kept his voice level and calm.

  Hunter shook his head. “They’re gone, and I imagine when they get back to that rehab place and have to take a drug test, they ain’t gonna get back out for a while.” He paused. “But they’re gonna get out someday, and I don’t wanna have to deal with my dad about this.” He pointed to his eye. “I doubt next time it would be just a black eye.”

  Owen let out a heavy sigh. “I think you ought to report him.” When Hunter didn’t say anything, Owen said, “If it hurts too much to work, you could have just called and told me.”

  “We don’t got a phone.”

  Owen scratched his head. “Or maybe you could have walked the few blocks to my house? Or something?”

  Hunter shrugged and looked away.

  “Did you think I’d fire you when I saw your eye?”

  Hunter shrugged, and Owen figured he was just embarrassed enough to lose his job over this.

  “Look, we’re supposed to have some bad weather coming later in the week. I’ve got a roof that leaks, several trees that need to be cut down before they fall down, cracked windows upstairs . . . the list goes on. I really need some help getting my house at least a little weatherproofed. A lot of the bad roof damage was done in a hailstorm a few months before I moved in, and I haven’t had time to get to that.” It was all true. “So if you choose to keep working with me, we’re going to have to spend a little time in this heat for a couple of days.”

  Hunter furrowed his brow, but then flinched again from the pain. “You still want me to work for you even though I didn’t show up or call or nothin’?”

  Owen shrugged. “Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t they?” He patted Hunter on the arm. “Go get your work clothes on. Lunch is on me today.”

  Hunter stood and stared at him for a few seconds, then finally turned to get his shoes. Owen heard him telling his grandma he was leaving. “Good thing you got that job back, boy. I was wondering what we was gonna do. Don’t be so stupid from now on.”

  Was this job all that Hunter and his grandma depended on, outside of government assistance? What had they done before Owen hired Hunter? Owen rubbed his chin and thought about all the trouble Hunter had been in, the life the kid had lived so far.

  Maybe I need to be grateful for what I do have, not what I’ve lost.

  Brooke was sweeping around the counter at the store Monday morning, her mind filled with thoughts of Owen. They’d had such a great time . . . until the end of the evening. It saddened her to think that Owen had given up a relationship with God just because he couldn’t forgive his ex-wife. And it angered her that she kept thinking about it and comparing it to her own situation with her father. True, she couldn’t forgive her father, but at least she hadn’t walked away from God because of the bad things that had happened in her life. Faith should be stronger than that.

  And so should the ability to forgive.

  She heard the message loud and clear, knowing that the Lord had forgiven her for plenty of things over the course of her lifetime. But she still couldn’t wrap her mind around a father who would betray her mother and then just walk away.

  Brooke could remember taking her father’s calls in the beginning. She’d been angry and hateful to him, but she’d still hoped he would come home, no matter what he’d done. Eventually, though, she’d stopped taking his calls or opening mail from him. How could her mother have just let him waltz back into her life? It was just . . . wrong.

  She sat down on the stool behind the counter and closed her eyes. Lord, I can’t do it. I can’t forgive him. I don’t know how. Brooke squeezed her eyes closed. But show me the way if it’s Your will. She opened her eyes for a moment, then closed them again. And I pray that Owen won’t be such a bitter man and that he’ll find his way back to You. Amen.

  She opened her eyes as the bell on the door chimed. Her mother walked in—alone, thank goodness.

  “How’d you get here?” Brooke walked toward her and hugged her, noticing that Mom was dressed in another new pants outfit and smelled of her new perfume.

  “Your father is in the car.” Mom stepped back but kept her hands on Brooke’s arms. “We’re on our way to get a late breakfast, but I wanted to stop by and check on you. Have you heard there’s a storm out in the Gulf? It’s about to be a hurricane, and they say we might get some of it.”

  Brooke had been worrying about the storm too, but now all her concerns about it flew out the window—along with her good intentions. “Please don’t call that man my father. He’s not my father.”

  Mom’s face flushed. “He is your father, Brooke. And you’re being—”

  “Really, Mother? Are you going to get mad at me about this? Because we can go through all of this again, and there is no reason for—”

  “Stop it! Just stop it!” Mom actually stomped her foot. “Why can’t you just accept that I’m happy and find an ounce of forgiveness?”

  Brooke’s jaw dropped, unsure if she’d ever heard her mother yell like that. She glanced around the store, glad there weren’t any customers to hear her mother’s childish outburst. Down the aisle, she saw Big Daddy emerge from the back office, concern on his craggy face. “You cannot force me to forgive him or to accept this ridiculous remarriage.” This time it was Brooke’s voice that rose. “He had an affair, Mother! Then he left us for the other woman. He never tried to come back! He just left and—”

  “He did want to come back.” Her mother covered her eyes with one hand.

  “What?” Brooke looked at her mother, but turned when Big Daddy made it to the front of the store.

  “Everything okay?” He stopped a few feet from the register.

  “Yes. We’re fine.”

  Mom pasted on a trembling smile. “Hello, Big Daddy. Nice to see you.”

  Brooke pleaded with her eyes for him to go and he walked away—though she knew he would stay nearby. Then she refocused on her mother. “Answer me, Mom. What were you talking about?”

  Her mother sniffled and raised her chin. “Your father did want to come back. He begged to come back. For years.”

  Brooke walked around the counter and sat down on the stool. “He wanted to come back to us?”

  “Yes.”

  Brooke was quiet for a few moments. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

  “You were so mad at him, kept saying that you hated him. I didn’t think it would be good for him to come back.” Her mother pulled her eyes from Brooke’s.

  Brooke stood again and shook her head. “So you let me believe that he just abandoned me?”

  “You abandoned him, Brooke. He tried to stay close to you, and you wouldn’t have it.”

  Brooke covered her face with her hands, then ripped them away. “I wanted him back! Of course I was mad, Mom—mad that he hurt you and did this to our family. But I always wanted him to come home!” She leaned on the counter and stared at her mother. “How could you do this, Mom?” Tears blurred her vision, and she sank back down on the stool. “Did you forgive him back then? Because if you didn’t, then tell me the truth. And don’t say you kept him away because it was best for me. Let’s at least be honest.”

  Her mother looked away, pushed her glasses up on her nose, and shook her head. “I wish we didn’t have to drag all this up. I wish you could just be happy that I’m happy.” She turned back to Brooke. “And get to know your father.”

  “You couldn’t forgive him, could you?” Brooke smirked. “You want to preach forgiveness to me, but you couldn’t forgive him back then. So you said it was best for me if he wasn’t around, and I was left to think he abandoned us.” She shook her head. “And all the while, he wanted to come home.”

  “He made a fool out of me!” Her mother slapped her hands against her slacks. “I couldn’t get past that.”

  “Then why are you forgiving him now?” Brooke lowered her voice as she tried to understand. “And why do you keep nagging me to forgive hi
m?”

  Her mother started to cry. “Because I want a life, Brooke. I don’t want to finish out my days as a bitter woman. And I’ve always loved that man, no matter what!” She turned and rushed to the exit, the bell jingling wildly as she slammed the door behind her.

  Brooke raced around the counter to go after her, but stopped when she caught a glimpse of her father sitting in an old blue Chevy outside. A large dent marred the right fender of the car. Her father’s shoulders slumped in a way she didn’t remember.

  She walked to pick up her broom and began to sweep again—vigorously. She’d spent her entire life furious at her father for leaving them and never coming back. She’d lived so long with the pain of his abandonment, when all the while her mother wouldn’t let him come home?

  But can I really blame her?

  Was Brooke prepared to make the same mistake her mother had made by not showing forgiveness? That had certainly been the plan, but this new information had confused matters. Her hands tightened on the broom handle as she stirred up a cloud of dust.

  Hunter’s heart thumped in his chest as he and Owen hammered shingles onto Owen’s roof. After everything the guy had done for him, he wasn’t about to tell Owen that he was scared of heights.

  After a few minutes, Owen said they were done and motioned for Hunter to head back down the ladder. Hunter couldn’t get back on the ground fast enough.

  “It’s not the best job, but if that storm does come our way, hopefully it will keep the rain out.” Owen hopped down from the third rung of the ladder. “I’m starving. You ready for lunch?”

  Hunter nodded. He was always hungry.

  “If you’ll put the ladder up and clean up this mess we made, I’ll go pick us up something to eat.” He pointed to the old shingles they’d tossed off the roof. “How about a barbeque sandwich from Zimmerhanzel’s?”

  Hunter nodded, then started to pick up the shingles. He had that done and the ladder put away long before Owen got back, so he went and used the bathroom, then looked around. There was still a lot to do in the house, and Hunter was thankful for that. He needed this job. Reaching into his pocket, he felt the twenty-dollar bill—all the money he had left. He was glad he didn’t have to spend it on lunch today. Luckily he had given Grandma the money for bills before his parents decided to rob their own kid. He shook his head as he wandered from room to room downstairs.