by Leah Atwood
For a split second she forgot Shep sat beside her until she felt his eyes burning her with their scrutiny. When she looked at him, his head tilted to one side, his gaze fixed on her, his mouth turned down. She got the feeling he knew too much.
“Time to pull out the winter coats.” Forcing cheerfulness into her voice, she continued, “And gloves and scarves. I think this year, I’ll put a GPS tag on Josh’s for all the times he loses them.”
Shep smiled, made a sound just below the sentiment of a laugh. “My nephews are always losing things. Drives Risa crazy.”
“Risa is your sister, right?”
“Sister-in-law, but even before she married my brother, she was like family. Her parents lived next to mine, and we all grew up together until she and Jack left for college.” He drank from his cup, then set it back on the armrest. Resumed silence.
She’d hoped the conversation would be a distraction from whatever reason had him studying her moments ago. No such luck. The coat and bad joke were a non-starter, and his stare returned—less intense but more…concerned?
A lock of chestnut hair tumbled to his forehead, almost reached his brow, but his gaze didn’t falter, didn’t even blink. “How bad is it, Lyndsey?”
“Just a rough patch, that’s all. I’ll get through it.” She didn’t question how she knew her finances were the topic.
His lips pressed together with a slight frown. “I’m probably overstepping my bounds, but tell me the truth.”
“You’re right.” Anger, or was it wounded pride, shot through her veins like an IV of frigid water. She sat up, ramrod straight. “You’ve crossed a line that wasn’t yours to cross.”
He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Will you hear me out?”
“I think it’s time for you to leave.” She flicked a glance at her watch. “It’s getting late and church starts early.”
A hissing whistle accompanied Shep’s sharp intake of breath. “Don’t shut me out—”
She placed a hand on the wide arm of each side of the chair, poised to stand. “I appreciate your help and generosity in fixing my oven, but that doesn’t give you the right to ask personal questions.”
“Mark asked me to look after you.” His eyes widened as if the admission stunned him.
Not nearly as much as it surprised her. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the chair. “What did you say?”
“Not long after Miranda died, Mark asked me to make sure you were okay, keep an eye on you, if anything ever happened to him.”
“He never told me.” Even as she sank back in the seat, she knew it was true. Not only because Shep wouldn’t lie, but because a memory surfaced. “It was the night you guys went fishing on the lake, wasn’t it? About six months after Miranda passed.”
“Yes.” Shep leaned further forward. “How’d you know?”
“When he came home the next day, he was somber. He didn’t talk much until we went to bed that night. For a long time, he lay there silent, but I knew he was still awake.” Salty tears burned her eyes. “Finally, he turned to me and said, ‘I’ll make sure you’re always taken care of, even if I die. That’s how much I love you.’ I wouldn’t let him say more because I couldn’t handle the thought of him dying. He was healthy, had just completed a yearly physical. How could I have known an accident would take him?”
“Most men don’t talk much about the things that really matter, but Mark was different.” Shep swallowed. “He was a good man, and he loved you deeply.”
Lyndsey bent her knees and pulled them to her chest. “I know.”
The sting of injured pride faded, healed by the balm of her late husband’s request. She’d been loved. Cherished. Mark wouldn’t want her to live like this. His request to Shep had been purposeful and genuine. If he trusted Shep to look after her, the least she could do is trust Shep with the truth of her financial situation.
She wrapped her arms around her legs, stared at the chipped polish on her toes. “Unless a miracle happens, I’m going to lose the house.”
“How much time do you have?” Sitting straight, Shep rested a hand behind his head.
“Not enough.” A brown hair, white tailed rabbit shot across the yard, and Lyndsey gave a fleeting thought to the childhood books she’d read many years ago in a simpler, more innocent time. “The bank’s gone out of their way to help, but there’s only so much they can do.”
“How much would it take to get you in the clear?”
She gave a number, putting both feet in the fire. “There you have it. You know how pathetic I am.”
“Don’t say that.” A hard glint shimmered in the center of cobalt eyes. He lowered his arm and clenched his fists. “You’re talking about my best friend’s wife and my wife’s best friend. I have it on good authority neither of them would appreciate that kind of talk.”
“I should have made it work somehow. Should’ve done something more.” The desperation in her voice mimicked the defeat in her heart. “But no matter what I do, it’s never enough to make ends meet. Mark’s life insurance barely paid funeral costs and I’ve been struggling since.”
Shep stood and walked to her. Positioned himself in front of her, pressed his hands to her shoulders. “Maybe God is telling you that you’re not meant to do it on your own. Maybe he wants you to see that you’re not alone. Mark is gone, but there are people here to help you.”
“I am Josh’s mother. He needs to see his mom will always take care of him.” She hunched her shoulders, hoping Shep would take a hint and move his hands. The heat from his touch seared through her lightweight cotton shirt.
“You’re smart Lyndsey, but prideful.”
“No, I’m not.” A bitter retort surfaced after the denial, but she swallowed the comment.
“Oh really?” A single eyebrow arched high on Shep’s forehead. “In that case, I’ll write you a check for the amount you owe.”
“Absolutely not.” Too late, she realized she’d fallen into his trap.
“Point proven.” He stepped away, finding the one deck board that creaked. A partial smile curled the right side of his mouth, and then he chuckled.
“Are you laughing at me?” Her projected indignation fell flat, made as much noise as a dandelion seed falling on a cotton pillow.
“No.” The sparkle in his eye said otherwise.
“Don’t get too cocky, just because you got me on this one thing.” Casting Shep a truce smile, she slid her legs down then rose to her feet. “Maybe I do cling too tightly to my pride, but I was raised to believe in personal responsibility.”
The smugness left his eyes. “Which is an admirable quality, but there’s nothing wrong with accepting help when it’s needed.”
Why did he have to make sense? The stubborn side of her hated to admit there was truth to his words, but the friend in her realized she’d been unfair. “I’m willing to concede there’s a possibility you’re correct again, but I still can’t accept your help.”
A low growl rumbled off his lips. “Why not, Lyndsey? You asked for a miracle, here it is.”
“It’s too much and then I would feel beholden to you. Besides, it wouldn’t be proper.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “How do you figure that?”
She sucked in a long breath before answering, caught a whiff of the hazelnut flavored coffee. “It’s not like you’re family or my husband. What would people say?”
“But I am a friend, one your husband trusted enough to look after you, and a brother in Christ. And doesn’t God command us to look after the widows and orphans?” His jaw tensed, eyes narrowed, demonstrating a side of him she’d never seen. “The real question is, are you more concerned with keeping your home or the gossip of biddies who have nothing better to do?”
The hurled accusation struck where it needed. She hugged herself, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. Where had the conversation gone awry? One second Shep was smiling, the next, angry—thei
r amicable evening quickly deteriorated.
Would it be so wrong to accept his money? Had her staunch determination to maintain personal responsibility become a sin of pride?
Lifting her head, she met his gaze, hating what she saw.
Hurt.
She’d never intended to upset him. Not when he’d done so much for her, and undoubtedly more than she realized. In light of the information about Mark’s request, she was certain she’d uncover more of Shep’s help in the coming days and weeks.
“I’m sorry.” She uncrossed her arms and wiped her hands on her pants. “This is difficult for me, embarrassing for anyone to know the severity of my predicament. Your offer was exceedingly generous.”
“Is.” The hard edge left his face. “The offer still stands.”
A wood railing circled the deck. Once upon a time, she and Mark had planned to build a bench into it, but they’d never gotten around to the task. She walked to it, rested her hands on the redwood stained rail.
Memories of Mark lived everywhere on the property, so many precious moments she’d committed to her heart’s remembrance. Their life together began in this house—they’d shared countless firsts, within the walls and out. Her gaze drifted to the flat portion of the yard, to the area just before it dropped off. Even at night she could pinpoint the spot where they’d lain, stargazing, when she’d told him she was pregnant with Josh.
Could she walk away from all of it, simply because she wouldn’t accept help? Was that fair to Josh? But it wasn’t the money for heating or lights—this was much more. She couldn’t accept that much from Shep, no matter how good a friend he was. And not only because of the flimsy excuse she had tossed at him earlier.
She’d never cared what others thought about her. Even if she did, she knew Shep would never let anyone know what he had done for her, if she let him give the money. He was the type of man who went behind the scenes for his good deeds, didn’t need the recognition.
The deep down truth was, unless her income situation changed, she’d be in the same boat as now given another few months. The truth scared her, but better that she confronted it now.
Still looking away from Shep, she took a deep breath, knowing what the answer had to be. “I want to, but I still can’t accept.”
Heavy footsteps approached. “Why not?”
Pivoting in slow-motion, she turned to face him. “You’ll never know how much I appreciate your selflessness by offering, but it would only be a temporary solution. I’ve cut out every expense I can, but there’s still more money going out than coming in.”
“You don’t know what the next few months will bring.” Shep looked at her with optimistic determination. “Buy yourself some time.”
“And if I still lose the house, I’ll feel even worse if you’re out that money for nothing.”
“It wouldn’t be for nothing.” His jaw set in a firm line, ready for a showdown.
“Please, Shep. I’ve thought about this for several weeks, and I was afraid to say it, but the best thing to do is sell the house before I completely lose it.” Dull pains bordered her heart now that she’d vocalized her idea. She balled her fists, digging her nails into her palms. “I can rent a small apartment at a fraction of my mortgage. Josh and I will get by.”
“You shouldn’t have to ‘get by’.” He took another step closer to her, out of reach from the porch light’s glow. “Mark would want more than that for you. You deserve better.”
Darkness provided a welcomed veil. In it, maybe Shep wouldn’t see the desperation and conflict she knew found their way to her eyes. If only there were a way to disguise it from her voice. “One day I’ll get back on my feet, but for now I need to think about the future, not the short term.”
For a long time, Shep didn’t answer. At last he gave a resigned sigh. “There’s no expiration date on my offer. In the meantime, what can I do for you?”
“I’ll call the bank and realtor tomorrow. Then I’ll have to start packing.” She glanced to the house, allowing her gaze to drift from the colonial blue board-n-battan shutters, through the dining room window to the farmhouse dining table which Mark and she had wanted to fill with children. Hours of love and dedication had gone into making the house a home. “I could use a friend to help.” For emotional support more than anything.
Shep nodded. “Say the word and I’m here.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. The lump in her throat precluded her from saying more.
For better or worse, she’d set the course for a new chapter in life.
Chapter Four
Boxes staged for easy loading filled the foyer and living room. Disassembled bed frames leaned against the wall where Shep had propped them last night. The walls boasted no frames or shelves—all had been removed and drywall repaired earlier in the week. Once he loaded the furniture and boxes, the house would be empty, ready for new occupants.
Lyndsey walked through the front door. She wore a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a long-sleeved teal T-shirt, and a pair of worn sneakers—a practical outfit for moving day. Her face lacked its normal, vibrant coloring, but a strained smile tugged at her lips. “I guess this is it.”
“Josh got off fine with his grandparents?” He wiped a dusty hand on his faded flannel shirt.
“Yes.” Her eyes shifted, scanning the room. “It’s better this way. The transition will be easier for him if I have his room set up before he sees the new place. It will help him see it as home.” The shakiness in her voice belied the confidence of her words.
“I thought we’d load the bed of my truck first with the necessities, the boxes you’ll have to unpack first. After that we’ll load the moving truck.” He cast a brief look out the window to the rented vehicle. “I think we can get it all in one trip. Once we unload and return the truck, I’ll bring you back for your car.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay.”
He went outside and grabbed the wheel dolly.
By the time he returned, Lyndsey had boxes waiting. “These can go in your truck.”
“That’s it?”
“There a few more in the other room. I’ll get them while you take these out.” Her voice wavered, and Shep wished there was something, anything, he could do to make this easier for her.
All he knew to do was be there for her, which he’d done every evening for the past three weeks. After his normal work for the day, he’d gone straight to her house and helped her pack for a few hours before he went home. Yesterday he’d taken a half day, leaving his second-in-command in charge of the latest project. He’d cleared his Friday and Saturday, something he rarely did, so he could help her move and settle in.
He wasn’t happy about it. He didn’t like the idea of her downsizing to an apartment, especially when she’d found excuse after excuse to not let him inspect it first. What Lyndsey didn’t know was that he’d done some previous work at that apartment complex. He knew the condition of the buildings, the caliber of many of the tenants.
Yet, the decision wasn’t his to make. Lyndsey had to follow what she believed was best, and that was selling the house. No matter how much he’d prayed and wished and hinted, she’d still chosen to move.
Which led him to this point, loading boxes on a dolly, being supportive in any way he could. The boxes she’d set aside were large, about three feet tall. He took them to his truck two at a time until the extended cab was full.
Once he accomplished that task, Lyndsey helped him carry the furniture into the moving truck. He’d argued when she’d insisted on not bringing anyone from church or his company to help. Most of the items he could finagle on his own, one way or another, but there were a few pieces with which he’d undoubtedly need assistance. It didn’t make sense to do it all on their own when help was available, but Lyndsey wouldn’t budge.
As they moved the bed frames, the couch, and the china hutch, Shep learned a new fact about Lyndsey. Her physical strength matched that of her spiritual and emotional strength. She moved deftly, with
out complaint, showing a competence he’d underestimated.
“Any more furniture hiding in the house?” He scanned the trailer’s interior, seeing its walls lined with the bulky, mostly heavy items.
“That wasn’t enough?” She tipped her head to the trailer and laughed.
A sound that warmed him on this cold day after witnessing innumerable frowns from her throughout the preceding weeks. “Nope, you need another loveseat. Maybe a recliner or two.”
More chuckles escaped, and she grinned. “Maybe I’ll add a spare bed as well, to go in my nonexistent spare bedroom.”
Her jokes did nothing for his unease regarding her new living arrangements, but he wouldn’t risk her good mood by commenting. “In that case, let’s load the remaining boxes before you fill the truck with imaginary furniture.” He grabbed the green cart and rolled it toward her. “You take the dolly.”
Within two hours, they’d moved everything from the house to the truck. Only a small, four-square-foot empty spot remained in the trailer.
“Ready?” He leaned against his Chevy, staring at the house.
Lyndsey stood next to him. “No.”
Her voice cracked again, and he was surprised she’d held on that long. No one would fault her if she cried. If their roles were reversed, if he was the one leaving the house he’d shared with Miranda, he’d be a mess, at least on the inside.
Not thinking twice, he slid an arm over her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “You’re a brave woman.”
She snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“I mean it.” Sensing she still needed some form of support, he kept an arm around her. “I admire the courage you possess.”
“What courage?” She bit her lip before continuing, drew in a long breath. “I’m a derailed train, one step away from a train wreck.”
“I wish I could hand you a pair of glasses that allowed you to see what others do.”