Enchantment: A Christian Romance Novel (The Lewis Legacy Series Book 6)

by JoAnn Durgin

  Dean hoped Sheila wouldn’t perceive any of that spiel as boastful. “I’ve found that if something’s your passion, you can be successful if you work hard and follow that dream.” Well, maybe that sounded pompous. Like something out of How To Be A Success 101.

  “Th-th-at’s won-won-d-der-ful. Wh-where are y-your s-s-stores?”

  “The flagship store is the one in San Antonio. We have five more stores in Texas and two in Louisiana. The stores in Houston, Dallas, Austin, and Baton Rouge opened just this year. We have both downtown locations and suburban stores since our demographic is wider than you might suspect.”

  “S-s-sounds l-l-like y-y-your c-c-comp-pan-ny is r-r-real-l-y gr-gr-grow-wing.”

  He nodded. “It’s amazing what city folks will buy, Sheila. The city slickers sometimes like to present the appearance that they’ve just come into town from the ranch. That’s what I call my Urban Cowboy Collection. We also have a lot of clients who are true blue cowboys and ranchers.”

  Sheila smiled. “Th-the b-b-belts S-S-Sam w-wears? Th-th-those are y-y-your d-designs?”

  “Most likely. Sam’s been one of my best customers. He’s bought belts as Christmas gifts for the TeamWork men, too.” He chuckled. “Kevin, Mitch, Eliot, and Landon wear them. You might see one or two here on the mission. Sam and Josh bought purses for Lexa and Winnie for Christmas.” He laughed. “I’m still working on Marc. I’m trying to convince him even Boston city slickers need a custom Leather belt.”

  Sheila smiled. “I-I l-l-like th-the w-w-way y-you s-s-say ‘w-w-we’ in-in-st-stead of m-ma-making it a-all a-a-b-bout y-y-you.”

  Dean appreciated her sentiment, but he wouldn’t tell her about the store manager who’d embezzled more than ten thousand dollars from his San Antonio store in recent months. That revelation had made him seriously question his character judgment since he’d handpicked the man. On paper and in interviews, the guy had been impeccable, articulate, and presented himself as a person of integrity. His references had checked out fine. People could always get greedy or go bad somewhere along the way.

  Determined not to allow the unsettling situation derail this trip, Dean had met with his attorney the day before coming to Albuquerque. Being advised to wait until they could obtain more sustainable evidence before firing the man had soured his stomach. Pursuing legal action wasn’t something he relished, but he’d worked too long and hard to have someone steal from him and then walk away without punishment or repercussions. As the business owner, the onus was on him to figure out a way to prove his case against the man. Somehow he’d find a way.

  “Th-that’s v-very im-impress-ive.” Retrieving her roller, Sheila began working again. Her strong, sure strokes suggested she’d done some painting before.

  “You’re very good at this. Looks like you could teach me a few things.”

  She gave him another shy smile but didn’t respond. He couldn’t shake the memory of their unexpected intimacy the night before. When Sheila had rested her head on his chest, he’d felt the strong need to take care of her. Protect her. It’d been a long time since he’d held a woman in his arms for any reason. Perhaps he’d gone too long without female companionship. Or it could be, as Sam suggested, that he’d been operating on autopilot the last few years.

  When Cynthia broke off their five-year relationship, he’d stopped dating altogether and immersed himself in building his business. Erected barriers around his heart and told himself he didn’t need a woman. Didn’t need love. Didn’t need a family. His tireless efforts for the stores had paid off, but—other than attending church—he’d been negligent of his personal life.

  Make more conversation. Get her to talk. “Do you like being a social worker? That’s very admirable although I’m sure it can’t be easy. Did I hear you also help with runaway teenage girls?” When Sheila appeared startled, he hastened to explain. “Angelina mentioned it to Felipe and I happened to overhear.”

  She nodded and seemed to relax. “Y-yes. I d-do wh-what I c-can t-to h-help g-girls wh-who h-have l-left th-their ho-homes f-for wh-what-ever r-reason. A-b-buse, al-al-coholism, si-sickness. Th-there a-are a-all k-kinds of r-r-reasons, a-all k-k-kinds of h-hurt a-and h-heart-heartache. I ju-just w-want th-them t-to kn-know th-there a-are g-good p-pe-people in th-the w-w-world w-w-who c-care and w-w-want to h-h-help th-them and n-not ex-expect any-anyth-thing in r-ret-t-urn.”

  “Do you have family members nearby?”

  Sheila’s eyes widened and grew bright. She blinked hard as if to prevent tears from falling. What had he said wrong? If he’d offended her, his only defense was ignorance.

  “N-not f-family w-w-who c-care t-to h-help or th-that I c-care t-to b-b-be ar-around.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry into your life, Sheila. It’s none of my business. I have to say…”

  She stopped her work, staring straight ahead, as though waiting for his next words.

  “I think you’re a very lovely woman.” He hoped she understood those weren’t empty words or words intended only to soothe or gain him any special favors.

  Sheila bowed her head for a moment before meeting his gaze. “Th-thank y-you, Dean,” she whispered.

  “Would you like to sit together tonight at the prayer circle?”

  After dipping her roller in the paint, she resumed working on her section of the wall. “I d-don’t th-think th-that’s a g-g-good i-id-dea.”

  “May I ask why not?” He might have come off as cross, but he hadn’t expected that response.

  She didn’t answer. Uncertain what to say or do, Dean kept working on his section of the wall. Although he tried not to look at her, he couldn’t help stealing glances.

  “I-I-I’m d-d-da-m-maged g-g-goods, Dean.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when she quickly brushed away a tear. “I-I’m s-s-sorry.” Lowering her paint roller into the drip pan, Sheila quickly wiped her hands on a nearby cloth and departed without another word.

  Staring at the empty doorway through which she’d disappeared, Dean wondered if he should follow her. Like a fool—or a coward—he stayed and finished the job instead. The entire time, he stewed. Was it wrong to want to know more about her? To want to spend time with her?

  Maybe there’s a reason you’re still single. At the rate he was going, he might remain that way the rest of his life.

  A short time later, Dean carried the paint supplies to the small sink in the corner of the classroom. “Lord,” he said under his breath as he cleaned the brushes and rollers, “Sheila’s hurting. You know that better than anyone. Please show me how to be her friend and help her.”

  Why would she consider herself damaged goods? Because of the stuttering? He didn’t think so. No doubt it had to do with her no-good late husband. Call it a wrong heart attitude, but Dean pretty much hated that guy. Howard Morris had been blessed with a beautiful wife and daughter and he’d squandered it all away like a fool. What a waste of a life.

  Dean begrudgingly added another request to that prayer. “Help me get over this anger I feel for a man I never met.”

  Sheila and Angelina deserved better. If he wasn’t the right man to give them a better life, so be it, but he was willing to try.

  Chapter 13

  ~~♥~~

  Sam talked with Marc outside the church, comparing notes and discussing the various assignments for the week. The finishing touches were being put on the exterior of the building, and the current needs were to complete the sanctuary, fellowship hall, and the Sunday school rooms. The list was ongoing, and they needed to place their TeamWork volunteers where their unique talents could best be utilized.

  Both men looked up as a black sedan with tinted windows made its way up the driveway to the church. As it came closer, Sam spied a gold seal on the driver’s side door.

  “Any idea who that is?” Marc moved beside him. “Looks official.”

  “I think we’re about to find out. Pastor Chevy didn’t tell me to expect company.” Based on the fact the pastor
left the property a half-hour ago, Sam figured he wasn’t aware of a visit. “Can you read the seal on the door?” he said to Marc as the car stopped. He’d left his glasses in the small office in the construction trailer, not that they’d help him much now.

  Marc’s blue-eyed gaze narrowed. “It’s hard to read, but looks to me like City of Albuquerque. Founded 1706.”

  A long-legged woman emerged from the vehicle dressed in a pale gray business suit and heels. The woman’s brunette hair was short and she carried a briefcase.

  “She’s overdressed for a construction site, wouldn’t you say?” Marc said under his breath.

  Based on the firm set of her mouth, the woman meant business. Smoothing down her skirt with one hand, she ignored the catcalls from the hired construction and landscaping crew.

  Turning in their direction, Sam gave the men a pointed stare. “Time to get back to work, guys.” With a few grumbles, they did as he asked. Thankfully, they understood he was in charge whenever the other supervisors were away.

  The woman closed the car door and gave them a curt nod as she approached. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I’m looking for Pastor Cheveyo.”

  Sam removed his Stetson and walked toward her. “I’m Sam Lewis. My missions group, TeamWork, is here on-site helping to finish construction of the church. Pastor Cheveyo left a short time ago.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Lewis.” She extended her hand in a perfunctory gesture but then left her hand in his longer than he considered appropriate. Her gaze skimmed over him from the black Stetson he now held in his hand down to his dirt-covered work boots.

  “How can we help you?” Sam narrowed his gaze. “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

  “Stephanie Colton. How about the foreman for this project? Donald Morrison?” Brushing hair from her forehead in the slight breeze, she released a sigh. “Does he happen to be here?”

  “He’s been here all day, but he left a few minutes ago on an errand. I’m sure he’ll return soon. Were they expecting you?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. I happened to be in the area and thought I’d stop by to check the progress.” Sam found that difficult to believe since the church was on the outer reaches of the city.

  She moved her focus to Marc. “And you are?”

  “Marc Thompson. Nice to meet you, Miss Colton.”

  “That’s Ms. Colton.” She frowned and glanced around at their surroundings, ignoring Marc’s proffered hand. “I’m a member of the board for the City Commission on Indian Affairs. The Commission acts as a liaison between the City of Albuquerque and the Indian community. Our purpose is to bring Native American concerns to the City’s attention.”

  Sam quirked a brow. “I’m assuming your visit means there are concerns about this worksite?”

  In her heels, the top of Stephanie’s head reached higher than his shoulder, but she raised her chin a notch. “It’s been brought to our notice that there may be violations. Questions have been raised and complaints were recently lodged regarding proper adherence to standards and regulations.” Her brown eyes bore into him. “Perhaps we could go to the office to discuss this matter in private?”

  Beside him, Marc grunted.

  “Of course,” Sam said, “but first let me call my wife to come and join us. She can be here in ten minutes.” He angled his head to the right. “The office is in the trailer if you’d like to have a seat.”

  “Help yourself to a cold drink while you wait,” Marc said. “You look a little heated.”

  Sephanie arched a brow. “I highly doubt your wife will be interested in these matters, Mr. Lewis.”

  Sam cracked a grin. “You haven’t met my wife.” He’d never agree to meet one-on-one with a woman other than his TeamWork ladies, and even then, he preferred Lexa to be nearby if not in the same room. He’d seen too many accusations of impropriety and inappropriate behavior leveled against men in ministry. Ill-founded accusations or not, the resultant heartache and damage to a marriage could be profound. He’d vowed long ago, to the Lord and to Lexa, that he’d never subject her, their marriage, or their family, to that kind of nightmare.

  Marc stepped forward. “If you’d called ahead, Ms. Colton, I’m sure Pastor Cheveyo or the foreman would have been here to meet you.” Sam resisted a smile, appreciating his friend’s directness. No wonder his advertising agency thrived. Marc didn’t mince words.

  “Fine,” Stephanie said. “We’ll talk here then.”

  Sam planted his hands on his hips. “Pastor Cheveyo filed every application and received all the appropriate permits for the construction of this church building. I’m sure if you check the records, you’ll see that everything’s proper and in good order. If you’d like, I’ll go pull copies from the files in the office and bring them to you in order to back up that statement.”

  “I assume you’re authorized to speak on behalf of Pastor Cheveyo?”

  “He is. Would you like to see his credentials?”

  Sam shot a look at Marc. Not the time.

  “That won’t be necessary.” The corners of Ms. Colton’s lips upturned. “This doesn’t concern the permits since they are a matter of public record.” Resting her briefcase on one knee, Stephanie clicked it open and retrieved a red letter-size file folder and handed it to Sam. “This is a copy of the City ordinance requirements for every worksite—”

  “Excuse me”—Sam took the folder—“but speaking as a member on behalf of the board, can you tell me whether these concerns stem from the Indian community itself, the community-at-large, or from the bureaucrats?”

  “Mr. Lewis, the primary purpose of the Commission is to protect the rights of the Native American Indians in and around Albuquerque.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “Those rights encompass this land, including its value and intended use.”

  Planting his feet apart, Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “The One Nation Church is constructing a church building for a congregation of Native American Christians. This will be a place where they can gather and freely worship, as is their right under law. Pastor Cheveyo informed me there are individuals—Native Americans as well as others in the Albuquerque area—who have been opposed to this project from the start, but they’ve raised the necessary funds, and I’m satisfied they’ve followed all the applicable laws, including obtaining proper credentials, licenses, and permits.”

  “I have a question if I’m allowed to speak.”

  Sam nodded. “Of course.” Maybe he’d been a bit overzealous and she deserved to be heard.

  “How is your organization—TeamWonder, is it?—involved in this project? We weren’t informed of your presence here. Which in itself may be a violation.”

  “That’s TeamWork,” Marc said.

  “My mistake. TeamWork.”

  Trying to damp down his rising irritation, Sam briefly explained the mission and TeamWork’s role, bolstered by supportive comments from Marc. “If there’s nothing further, I’ll take your business card and ask Pastor Cheveyo to contact you.” He held up the red folder. “I’ll make sure he gets this information. Good day, Miss Colton.” Replacing his Stetson and running his fingers around the brim, he turned to go.

  “Not so fast, Mr. Lewis.”

  Inhaling a deep breath, Sam turned back around. The woman was only doing her job.

  “I’ve tried three times to contact Pastor Cheveyo—twice by phone and once by mail—but he hasn’t responded. Out of obliviousness or by choice, I can’t be sure. I stopped here today, admittedly on purpose, to see if I could find and speak with him directly. I wanted to make sure he’s aware of the special meeting—an informal hearing, if you will—called for this Friday afternoon in the Office of the City Council to discuss this matter.”

  That surprised him, likewise the fact Pastor Chevy wouldn’t have acknowledged her calls. “No, I’m not aware. May I ask what agenda matters have any bearing on this building project?”

  “To discuss this worksite, the complaints, and the po
ssible violations.”

  “It’s a little late for that, wouldn’t you say?” Marc stepped forward. “As Sam mentioned, all the proper papers were properly and timely filed. They were approved. Once ground was broken and the building supplies brought in”—Marc waved his hand around the busy worksite for emphasis—“what else is there to discuss? As you can see, the exterior of the building is nearly finished. It would seem the Commission is a little late to this party.”

  Marc couldn’t know a thing about City ordinances in Albuquerque, and neither did he, but his friend was always there for moral support and could bluff better than anyone. He’d also given Sam a few seconds to regroup.

  “As far as TeamWork Missions, Ms. Colton, if we’ve violated or breached any City ordinances, regulations, or codes, it’s the result of blissful ignorance,” Sam said. “I assure you, if that’s the case, we’ll make the necessary adjustments or corrections as soon as possible.” Surely that answer would satisfy the woman, the board, the Commission, and any other interested entity that might present itself. “I also promise you this: we will not bow to pressure if these complaints are prompted by nothing more than petty judgments or prejudice.” Maybe that statement was pushing the limits, but she’d disgruntled him.

  The woman’s brown eyes shot fire. “Blissful ignorance or not, I hope you can appreciate that we consider every complaint and take the appropriate steps to thoroughly investigate and resolve it.”

  “I do, and I know you’re only doing your job. This is the first I’ve heard of any complaints, and I hope you understand that your visit took me by surprise.”

  Stephanie’s eyes met his for a long moment. “It would seem you’re a very passionate man, and that’s always a good thing in my estimation, Mr. Lewis. I’d suggest you show up at the hearing and bring Pastor Cheveyo and the project foreman with you. Government Center downtown at two o’clock on Friday. Good day, Mr. Lewis. Mr. Thompson.”