by Rachel Hanna
Brandon laughed. “Nope. Actually I did it myself. It’s a hobby of mine.”
Faith was surprised. “Interior design is your hobby?”
“Don’t tell anyone, but yes. I even like building my own furniture. See that table over there?”
Faith turned to look at his kitchen table. It was a beautiful light oak with thick, heavy duty chairs. “You built that?”
“Yes. Took me months, but I finally finished it a few weeks ago. My Dad was big into carpentry when I was a kid, so I guess I just watched him a lot. Now I use his old workshop at the house I grew up in to fiddle around with projects when I get time.”
“The table is amazing. A man of many talents,” she said, an easy smile spreading across her face.
“Care for a glass of wine? I’ve got white and red, whatever you like.”
“White please,” Faith said, following him into the kitchen. He pointed at a barstool at the breakfast bar. “So are your parents still living?”
Brandon poured a glass for each of them and slid hers across the counter. “Yes. They’ve been married for forty years and live in the same house where I grew up. It’s about twenty minutes from here.”
“I wouldn’t even know what that was like. My Mom died when I was young.”
“I’m so sorry, Faith. That’s tough.”
She took a sip of the wine. “Yeah, it was hard being a girl and only having my Dad…” she stopped herself. It was hard to say Jim was her Dad now, not because he’d lied about her adoption but because he’d basically disowned her recently.
“Are you okay?”
She stared at her glass. “I’m fine.”
“So your Dad raised you in Virginia?”
She took in a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Faith, you can trust me. I won’t tell anyone why you’re here.”
Faith smiled. “It’s not like I’m here to start a drug smuggling ring or something.”
“Good to know. I can cross that off my list.”
“Funny. Look, I’ve just had a rough few months.”
“When I was seventeen, I lost my older brother to a boating accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s been a long time, but you never really get over that kind of thing, do you? I remember for the longest time after he died, I’d walk into a room and just lose it. Maybe I’d see one of his old baseball trophies or even an old sweat sock,” Brandon said shaking his head. “Grief is funny that way.”
Faith nodded and took a sip of her wine. “Grief comes in many forms, unfortunately, and not just after someone dies.”
Brandon eyed her carefully. “Very true.”
There was a moment between them where the silence seemed to speak louder than their words.
“In medical school, I took a psychology class. I did a paper that year about the effect of grief on a person’s health. It’s scary how much it can change a person’s physiological make up, especially if the person doesn’t have an appropriate outlet for their grief. You know, like talking to a trusted friend…”
“Or drinking lots of wine…” Faith said smiling before she took a long sip.
“Very funny. Why do I get the feeling that you’re not much into sharing your innermost thoughts, Faith McLemore?”
“It just wasn’t done in my house, I guess. My father worked a lot, so I was on my own much of the time. I mean we had house workers and so forth, but it just wasn’t the same.”
“House workers?”
“Oh yes. Housekeepers, a chef, a nanny…”
“Wow. Who was your father, the Duke of Virginia?”
“That’s quite an education you got there, Brandon. Believe it or not, there’s no Duke of Virginia,” she whispered before pouring herself another glass of wine.
Brandon reached for the bottle before she could fill the glass. “Faith, we haven’t had dinner yet. I’d love it if you wouldn’t drink the whole bottle before I’ve even had a chance to serve my famous vegan pasta dish to you.”
“Wait. You cooked pasta for me? How?”
“Well, first I removed the large pot from that cabinet over there…”
“Very funny. I mean how did you have time when you just got off work an hour ago?”
“Prep is key in these situations,” he said as he stood up. “Cut up the veggies this morning, made the sauce, and now all I have to do is boil the pasta.”
Faith watched him fill the pot with water. “At least let me help you, Dr. James.”
“Oooh, Dr. James. I like the formality. Here, you can cut open the pasta package. The scissors are in the drawer on the end,” he said pointing across the kitchen.
Faith opened the drawer and retrieved the pair of scissors. She noticed a photo of Brandon with a small child, the desert landscape obvious in the background.
“That’s Hassan,” Brandon said.
“Rebecca told me you worked over there for a long time. Is this a boy you helped?”
Brandon smiled, but there was a hint of sadness. “I helped as much as I could. His mother had been maimed in a terrorist incident. Their village was very dangerous. Hassan had seen a lot of very bad things, and he was the head of their family at just ten years old.”
Faith instinctively put her hand on her chest. “Oh my gosh, how awful. Whatever happened to him and his mother?”
Brandon leaned against he counter and took the photo from the drawer. He stared at it for a moment, the look on his face like he was a million miles away.
“His mother lost her legs. The last I heard, they were in refugee camp on the outskirts of their town. I had to leave before I could say goodbye.”
Faith’s eyes welled unexpectedly. She wasn’t normally one for emotion, but just the look on Brandon’s face made her sad. “That had to be hard.”
Brandon put the photo back in the drawer and closed it. “It was very hard. There were so many people there who needed help, even just basic medical assistance, and it was impossible to help them all. It was frustrating at times. Not only were we always short on supplies and medications, but we spent a lot of time running for cover when fighting would begin.”
Faith felt a tugging at her heart. Here she was fixating on her situation when people in other parts of the world had it so much worse than she ever thought about. And what had she done with her life to this point? Nothing. No volunteer work. No serving the homeless or working at an animal shelter. She’d spent her life being waited on hand and foot and shopping in the fanciest stores. It was embarrassing.
“How’s that pasta coming along?” Brandon asked. Faith didn’t realize she’d been standing there with the bag in one hand and the scissors in the other.
“Oh, sorry. I was just thinking.”
“Yeah, it’s overwhelming, isn’t it? So many people who need help in this world.”
Faith handed him the open bag. “Yes, but at least you’ve helped people. I haven’t done a thing in my life to help someone.”
Brandon looked at her surprised. “You’ve never volunteered?”
“Nope. I’m a horrible person.”
“You’re definitely not a horrible person, Faith. If you’d like to volunteer, I know of some great local organizations.”
Faith’s stomach clenched up. If she volunteered in January Cove, it meant she was staying for awhile. It was a commitment. But what else did she have to do? Of course, once her money ran out, she’d need a job but she had the gift of time right now.
“Okay, yes. I’d like to know of some places.”
Brandon smiled. “Good. We can chat about it over our dinner.”
Chapter 5
Faith couldn’t remember a time when she’d laughed harder. Brandon was actually a pretty funny guy. He’d regaled her with tales from his trip to the Middle East, but also with humorous stories about growing up in January Cove.
“One time, my brother and I went over to the island and…”
“Island?”
“Oh, yeah. There are several little uninhabited islan
ds around here, but locals here go to one of them by ferry. Just a place to chill out, maybe have a picnic or play frisbee.”
“That sounds like fun,” Faith said, taking the last bite of her pasta.
Brandon grinned. “Well then maybe we can go one day?”
“We’ll see,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Hey, that’s progress. You didn’t shoot me down immediately.”
“Contrary to what you might think, Brandon, I’m not always a horrible, anti-social person,” she said, pointing her fork at him.
“I don’t think that at all, actually.”
“No?”
“I think you’re a wounded person.”
“Still playing psychologist?”
“Well, I can’t help but remind you that tonight was supposed to be all about you sharing some of your reason for being in January Cove with me.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Faith said, taking a gulp of her sweet tea.
“And yet all we’ve talked about is the Middle East, the island and that one time I got mono in tenth grade from kissing the wrong girl.”
“Still makes me laugh,” Faith said.
“So what brought you to our little Southern oasis, Miss McLemore?”
Faith took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m not as good at sharing as you are.”
“Okay, maybe it will help if I ask some questions.”
“Whatever floats your boat.”
“So I know your mother passed away when you were young. What did your father do for a living?”
“He was in finance.”
“And your father is still living?”
Faith stared at Brandon for a moment. “Yes, Jim McLemore is most certainly alive.”
“Okay, that was a weird way to answer the question, Faith. Almost robotic.”
“Next question please.”
Brandon rolled his eyes. “You realize you can be a bit exhausting, right?”
“Noted.”
“Okay, next question. Where is Jim McLemore right now, Faith?”
Faith froze in her seat. A lump formed in her throat. Suddenly, she swore the room was starting to spin, so she held on to the arms of the chair she was sitting in.
“Faith, are you okay?”
She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I’m… I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. Here, drink some water,” he said, sliding a bottle of water across the table. “I’m sorry if I hit a nerve. You don’t have to…”
“He’s in prison.”
Brandon stopped and looked at her. “Oh, Faith, I’m so sorry I asked. I was just trying to…”
“It’s okay. I needed to say it to somebody. My father… or Jim, rather… is in prison for embezzling money from everybody and their brother.”
“That’s tough. To lose your mother and now your father.”
Faith laughed ironically. “Yeah.”
“Am I missing something?”
“They aren’t my biological parents, Brandon.”
“Oh.”
“And I had no idea until a couple of weeks ago when Jim… my Dad… gave me information on a safety deposit box. Inside was a letter from him and the name of this town.”
“Wow, I don’t even know what to say. So he never told you that you were adopted?”
“Nope. Lied to me my whole life. And when I tried to go back and see him, to ask him more questions, he refused to see me. Even sends my letters back. He’s pushed me out of his life, and now I literally have no one.”
Why was she telling him all this? She’d promised herself she would only give him enough information to stop him from asking so many questions. But her mouth was shooting out information faster than she could stop it.
“You’re not alone, Faith,” Brandon said, reaching over and covering her hand with his.
She wanted to pull her hand away, but the touch of another human seemed necessary right now. Faith hadn’t realized just how alone in the world she felt until now.
“So you came here to look for your birth parents then?”
“I guess. Honestly, I don’t know enough to even start looking.”
“That’s why you visited the library?”
“Yes. Although it was pretty pointless since I don’t know anything to look up on those old microfiche machines. This town really needs to upgrade to computers.”
Brandon laughed. “True story.”
“So I don’t know why I’m still here, racking up a bill staying with Addy, when I don’t have the first clue to go on.”
“Maybe because Virginia doesn’t feel like home anymore?”
Faith pondered his statement for a moment. “Maybe. But nowhere feels like home anymore. I’m literally an orphan.”
“Faith, you’re not an orphan. As mad as you are at your Dad…”
“Jim.”
“Okay, Jim. As mad as you are at Jim, he raised you. And he apparently loved you.”
“How do you lie to someone you love for so many years?”
“It was wrong, Faith. I get that. But other than that, he sounds like he was a decent father to you? And you had a good mother too, right?”
“For a little while anyway.”
“Do you have any other family in Virginia?”
“Not really. I’m an only child, and when my Da… Jim… did what he did, everyone basically painted a giant scarlet letter on my chest.”
“It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“Oh no? My boyfriend of three years dumped me, my supposed best friend changed her phone number and my friends from the fancy private school I attended for twelve years of my life didn’t even invite me to our reunion.”
“Ouch.”
“Rich people can be very mean, trust me.”
Brandon suddenly laughed out loud.
“Excuse me? This is funny to you? See, this is why I don’t trust people,” Faith said, standing up from the table.
Brandon tried to straighten his face and grabbed Faith’s arm. “No, you don’t understand.”
“You’re literally trying not to laugh at me right now!”
“Faith, I’m laughing because I’m envisioning you trying to come here for a fresh start and the first thing that happens is a huge dog tackles you…” Brandon said before dissolving into a puddle of laughter again. This time, Faith joined him, slowly at first. But within seconds, she had tears pouring down her face. She slid back into her chair and tried to catch her breath.
“Yeah, that was quite a welcome,” she said, dabbing a napkin at her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” he said laughing. “But I’m also not sorry.”
“Oh really? And why is that?”
“Because it allowed me to meet you,” Brandon said softly. Faith felt her insides clench up a bit. This guy was gorgeous and smart and level-headed. But right now she was in no place to have feelings for anyone, let alone the guy who had to be the most eligible bachelor in town. That would only lead to inevitable heartbreak somewhere down the line.
“Thanks,” she said, breaking eye contact and picking up her plate. She carried it to the sink, Brandon not far behind.
“You’re not comfortable with emotions, are you?”
“I’m comfortable with some emotions.”
“Such as?”
“Anger,” Faith said with a smile.
Brandon touched her arm. “Faith, there’s a lot more you have to give inside that big heart of yours.”
“Maybe I don’t have a big heart.”
“I’m a good judge of people, and I know you have so much to offer this world. You’re just raw right now. You’ve been hurt in so many ways. I get it. But don’t shut people out. Don’t shut me out. I want to help you, so just let me, okay?”
God, he was hard to resist. Right now she wanted to grab his face and kiss him, so she balled her fists up by her sides and dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands.
“Thanks, Brandon. But I really don’t know how you can help me.
”
Brandon stepped back and crossed his arms, a thoughtful look on his face. “Well, for one thing I can hook you up with a great volunteer opportunity.”
“Tell me more.”
“There’s an amazing new organization here called HOPE. They provide backpacks for food insecure youth in our surrounding areas.”
“Food insecure?”
“There are hundreds of kids in our local schools who don’t have food unless they’re at school. So over weekends, holidays and the summer break, these kids may not eat.”
Faith stared at him. “You’re serious?”
“You’ve never heard this?” Brandon asked, his eyes widened.
Faith shook her head. “Never. I told you. I’m a horrible person.”
“You’re not horrible, Faith. You just weren’t informed. How do you feel hearing this?”
She thought for a moment. “Terrible. That must be awful for these kids. I just can’t imagine not knowing where my next meal will come from.”
Brandon smiled and playfully punched her arm. “See? You have a big heart in there, and we’re going to put it to good use. I’ll hook you up with Olivia. She runs the organization, and I’m sure she can find something you’ll be great at.”
For the first time in a long time, Faith felt like she had something to look forward to. Even if she couldn’t help herself, maybe by helping others she would find a purpose for her trip to January Cove.
Brandon sat on his deck, staring out into the vast expanse of the ocean. He loved this view. It never got old. Five years in the desert had made him appreciate it all the more. But still, he worried for those people he left behind. Talking about it with Faith had brought up so many emotions. Sometimes he even considered going back because there were days in January Cove where he felt he wasn’t helping enough people.
His mother had always said Brandon’s heart was bigger than his brain at times. He acted without thinking anytime someone needed help, even in relationships. His past was a scattered mess of break ups with women who couldn’t seem to understand his need to help others. He’d had a history of trying to “fix” broken women too, and that had led to many nights of staring at the same expanse of water, trying to figure out if God had a woman out there just for him.
He couldn’t help but think about his dinner with Faith last night. She was a hard one to figure out. On the one hand, they were nothing alike. She came from such vast amounts of wealth that he had a hard time imagining what her formative years were like.