by JoAnn Durgin
“Of course, I do.” Lexa darted to the back and returned in five seconds flat. Without another word, she handed him the wrench. Her look of self-satisfaction said it all. He wouldn’t bother telling her he meant the bigger wrench. He could make do. For a brief second, Sam wondered what her hair looked like loose and flowing. He averted his gaze. Now she really was stirring up trouble, but trouble of an entirely different nature. The kind he was trying hard to ignore and avoid.
Giving each lug nut a solid, full turn to make sure they were equally tight, he lowered the car to the ground and removed the jack. “That should do it.” He checked the tire one last time, satisfied it was secure. “We’d better get moving. We’re already behind schedule.” He gathered the old tire and tools and piled them into the back of the car.
Not waiting, Lexa flung the door wide and climbed back in the car. It was a surprise when she leaned across the seat and pushed his door open. “I’m sorry if picking me up at the bus station put you behind schedule. I could have just flown in on an airplane like a normal person and grabbed a taxi to the camp.”
Easing behind the wheel again, Sam replaced his sunglasses and decided to ignore the normal person comment. From the fancy suitcase and clothes to her overall demeanor, Lexa seemed pretty pampered. Maybe the humidity made her irritable. It had that effect on a lot of women. He hoped she’d get used to it sooner than later or he’d be better off to steer clear. A narrow line between her brows surfaced and she crossed her arms.
Starting the engine, Sam pondered her comment. He cleared his throat, searching for something to say that might not offend her. “First of all, I would have opened the door for you.”
Judging by her deepening frown, that wasn’t the best comment. He pulled out on the road again and avoided looking at his watch.
“Not that I don’t appreciate your gentlemanly, old-fashioned chivalry, but I thought it’d get us on the road quicker if I’m self-sufficient and don’t stand on ceremony.”
“And also for the record, picking you up at the bus station didn’t put us behind. It’s more the matter of a nail in the road causing a flat tire. And no way would a taxi driver be able to find his way to the camp. All roads definitely do not lead to the TeamWork camp. Let’s just say it’s the road less-traveled.” Lexa kept her eyes trained out the window as if there was actually something to see, but Sam could tell she listened. “If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that God always knows what He’s doing.”
“Are you saying God made the tire go flat?” Her tone sounded more curious than defensive as she turned to look at him again.
“No. I’m saying He allowed it to happen. He has His reasons. It’s up to us to try and figure out what He’s trying to tell us.” Wow, that sounded high-handed. Lexa met his gaze before lowering her lids. The luminous, blue-green color of those eyes reminded him of the Mediterranean. He’d flown over it enough times to appreciate the beauty of the sunlight reflected in its waves.
A vision of eyes similar in clarity and brilliance still haunted him, but Sam pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He had a job to do, houses to build. But mental fortitude couldn’t prove a match for the sudden pumping of his heart. This woman might prove to be trouble in more ways than one. Texas-sized trouble.
Lexa Clarke intrigued him whether he liked it or not. As he drove them closer to the TeamWork camp, Sam resolved to keep his thoughts occupied with something other than the fascination sitting beside him on the front seat.
Chapter 3
They drove in silence for a few minutes. Sam was probably figuring out where to place her in the TeamWork camp that wouldn’t endanger any of his more experienced volunteers.
“I hope you realize you’ll be working around a lot of people at the TeamWork camp.”
Lexa blew out a heavy sigh. Could the man talk about nothing else? “When I signed up with TeamWork, I thought I’d be going to Europe. But all the overseas positions were filled by the time I applied.”
“So, you signed up for the adventure of it all, thinking you’d be traveling to some foreign destination.” It was more a statement of fact than a question.
“Sorry if that offends you, but yes. TeamWork is supposed to be a foreign missions organization from what I understand.” Seized by a sense of how egocentric that sounded, Lexa twisted her hands in her lap. She was looking for so much more than adventure.
“It doesn’t offend me. Not at all. Especially since you decided to come here, even though it’s not your first choice.”
Lexa struggled to sit up straighter in the leather seat and glanced over at her companion. “There’s more to it than that, of course. It’s not like I expected to traipse through the Alps, singing and skipping around like a carefree Von Trapp in The Sound of Music, you know. Favorite movie aside, I did some research. I like how TeamWork’s helping people around the world in lots of different ways, putting their faith into meaningful action. I’m hoping I can contribute something to the cause.”
“Well, that’s an admirable goal. I mean, sure, it’s not Europe or Africa, or outside the United States. Or even outside of Texas.” A grin tugged at the corners of Sam’s mouth.
“Okay, here’s the thing. The lady in the TeamWork office told me this was where they most needed me. So,” she said with a shrug, “here I am.”
He nodded. “I appreciate your willingness to help. Trust me, we need all we can get. It’s where God has planted us for the next eight weeks, and these people need our assistance.”
“Because God knows what He’s doing.”
“Right. He has His purpose.”
“And are skipping and singing like a carefree Von Trapp allowed?” Her grin escaped. In return, Lexa was rewarded with one of the most genuine smiles she’d ever seen.
“Singing is definitely allowed. Just don’t expect me to skip. Never gonna happen in my lifetime, unless . . .” The expression on Sam’s face appeared wistful, as though he harbored a delicious secret.
“Unless what?” Lexa prompted.
“Unless the Lord blesses me to one day hold the hand of my daughter. That’s the only thing that could ever justify skipping.” He grunted and straightened on the seat as if to deflect from his tender sentiment by infusing it with a healthy dose of masculinity.
Tears stung her eyes at Sam’s unexpected words as Lexa stared blindly out the window. What would this man say if she told him she wasn’t sure God even loved her? That He took her mother way too soon and left her with a father who couldn’t tell his only child he loved her and wanted no part of God?
Not that she blamed God. Her father wasn’t a bad man. He always provided for her, but Michael Clarke didn’t have a clue how to raise a motherless girl. He didn’t know how to comfort her when she cried herself to sleep every night for nearly a year after her mom died. He preferred to wallow in the misery of his own loneliness. And he certainly never skipped with her.
If anything, Lexa hoped TeamWork could help her find her way back into the graces of the Almighty. Maybe if she did something good for others, He’d find favor and bless her life in some way. It might make up for all the years spent apart from Him, away from the church. Then again, maybe that’s not how it worked. Her shoulders slumped under the burden of inadequacy.
“So, I’m sure the TeamWork recruiter told you our specific mission here in San Antonio is to rebuild eight homes destroyed by flooding a few months ago.”
Lexa nodded. “Right. Eight homes in eight weeks seems awfully ambitious.”
“You’ll be surprised how quickly we can rebuild. They’re not large homes. We were here at the same camp three years ago, doing the exact same thing.” Sadness laced Sam’s words. “This particular area is prone to flooding after a drought followed by sudden heavy rains. For some reason, the residents always come back and rebuild in the same place.”
She could understand. Until signing up for the TeamWork mission, she’d been hesitant to step outside her own comfort zone. “I guess it’s their hom
e and they simply don’t want to leave. Old habits die hard, and people sometimes find it difficult to change.”
“Where’s your home, Lexa?”
That question was surprising. Sam didn’t seem the type of person to forget much of anything. “Houston.” She darted a glance in his direction.
“I’m not talking about that home.”
She raised a brow. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Where’s home in your heart?”
“Home in my heart?” Lexa repeated, feeling silly.
“I sense hesitation in there somewhere. Or maybe uncertainty.”
“Give me a minute.” She chewed the inside of her lip. “Not all of us can be as quick on our feet as you.”
“I’m not that quick. Just tall.” Those smile lines had a life all their own.
“Look, no matter why I signed up, or what I’m afraid of, or why I’m here . . . or where home in my heart is, I need a change of pace. I need to establish priorities in my life, and do something worthwhile. I want to help people less fortunate, and I want to be needed.” The edge of irritation slipped back into her voice. “Does that answer all your questions?”
Lexa imagined this man was just getting started. Crossing her arms, she realized she acted and sounded like a petulant child. And why wouldn’t her bottom stay anchored to the seat? Pretty soon she’d be staring up at Sam from the floorboard of this old bomb. It had to be the leather seats. They were downright slippery.
“Oh no, red alert. Hostile body language.” Sam’s tone was wry.
“You really do this for fun?” Lexa shot back.
Raising his arm, Sam gestured at their surroundings. “Why not? Wide open spaces, a great opportunity for ministry, and plenty of interesting co-workers.”
The last part of that sentence was clearly intended for her benefit. She stared out the window. It seemed like they’d been in the car for hours on end. Whether or not they’d ever arrive at the TeamWork camp was becoming a distinct question in her mind. “Are we almost there?” Lexa didn’t expect the hearty laugh elicited by that question.
“Be patient. We’ll be there in a few more minutes.” Sam sounded the tiniest bit placating.
Drumming her fingertips in a slow march on the edge of the open window, Lexa glimpsed the occasional ramshackle house, a cow, a few abandoned cars and dilapidated signs advertising places long gone. Her stomach churned a bit, fear squeezing her from the inside out the closer they drove to the camp. Would the other volunteers welcome her? Accept her? Was she crazy to sign on for something when she had no idea what to expect? No one said making a difference in the world was easy.
A combination of hot pavement, freshly-mown grass and a foul stench from something in the animal kingdom assaulted Lexa’s nostrils and contributed to her queasiness. Leaning her head back against the seat, she wrinkled her nose and closed her eyes. Inhaling a few deep breaths to try and calm her nerves was a mistake and did not help.
Without warning, Sam swerved the car and slammed on the brakes, jerking both of them forward. The engine cut off and silence engulfed them. Somewhere in the distance, a cow mooed, and a horse fly buzzed through the car and landed on Lexa’s shoulder.
“What . . . ?” She opened her eyes and batted in annoyance at the pesky fly. Looking up in surprise, she shoved escaping strands of hair away from her eyes. A goat stood in the middle of the dirt road. The ornery animal stared them down, as if daring them to come any closer. Massaging the back of her neck, she stole a glance at Sam.
Lowering the sunglasses, he gave her a startled look. “Sorry about that. Are you okay?”
A rumble of laughter began somewhere deep inside, bubbling up and bursting forth in an embarrassing fit of giggles. She didn’t care. And then she laughed even harder, releasing the pent-up frustration. A few tears escaped. Beside her, Sam laughed almost as hard as she did.
Wiping tears from her wet cheeks, Lexa lifted her eyes heavenward. Squeezing her eyes tight, she breathed the first silent prayer she’d said in a very long time, asking God to help her get to the TeamWork camp intact. Opening her eyes a few seconds later, she caught Sam watching her with a definite sparkle in those blue eyes.
“I think our adventure has already started.” His smile sobered. “Really, Lexa. Please tell me if anything hurts.” His concern for her welfare was touching. Of course, he didn’t need a lawsuit against TeamWork. Might as well put his mind at ease.
“I’m fine. Just embarrassed you’ve had to ask me that same question twice in the last forty minutes or however long it’s been since we met. I didn’t expect a goat crossing out here in the middle of Nowhereville.”
Glancing out the window, Lexa cried out in alarm when she spied the goat right beside her open window. It was too late. That crazy old goat worked its jaws and wound up like a major leaguer as it hurled a sticky wad of spit mixed with dry grass through the open window, dead-on in its aim for her cheek.
“Oh! Ew!” Lexa recoiled in shock as it oozed a downward path toward her jaw. Her hand flew to her face. She snatched it away in disgust and stared at her goopy fingers. “Couldn’t you have yelled incoming or something to warn me?” Reaching for her purse on the floor by her feet, she fumbled for a tissue.
“I’m as surprised as you, trust me. I thought only llamas liked to spit. Here. Allow me.” Sam leaned across the seat and retrieved the package of tissues at the top of her purse. “Normally, I would never invade a woman’s sacred property, but you obviously need a little help.”
Lexa’s pulse picked up speed when she remembered the romance novel stuffed in her purse. She prayed Sam hadn’t seen it. She wasn’t up to any explanations. It was clear he was trying not to laugh as he pulled out a tissue and held it up to her face. Stunned speechless, Lexa turned her cheek toward him. Anchoring her chin with firm fingers, Sam dabbed away the offending slobber with a surprisingly gentle touch. Funny thing, he didn’t appear awkward about it in the least.
“I’ve been called upon to perform many duties as TeamWork director, but this is a first.” Sam grinned and eased his hold on her chin. “If nothing else, I think you’re definitely going to challenge me this summer.”
“I don’t know what to say. That was a first for me, too.” Relaxing a bit, Lexa cracked a grin. “Thanks for de-sliming me.” She wiped off her fingers and carefully deposited the tissue in the plastic bag he handed to her. Glancing out the window, she spied her bovid assailant ambling through a nearby field.
“You’re welcome. I’m the oldest of six in my family. Growing up, we had dogs, cats, birds, turtles, frogs, rabbits and the occasional guinea pig, so I’m used to cleaning animal . . . stuff.” Sam chuckled. “The way I see it, that goat was mighty sweet on you, Miss Clarke. I’d take it as the highest form of compliment.”
Lexa laughed, and relaxed even more. “You’re out of your Freudian mind, Mr. Lewis.”
“Oh, I’m sure old Sigmund would have some interesting observations about it. There’s bound to be a metaphor in there somewhere. Just a tip. As a self-protective measure—and since you seem to attract all creatures, great and small—you might want to roll up the window until we get to the camp in a few more minutes. It’s almost time to hit the bovine crossing.” His brows lifted.
With a smirk, Lexa rolled up the window. For good measure and all.
As they headed down that never-ending dirt road again, Sam was quiet for another few minutes before slowing the car and glancing her way. “It’s now or never. Last chance to back out before we get to the TeamWork camp.” His expression was hard to read, and she couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. He already thought she was incompetent with tools, and an animal magnet. And liked numbers more than people. And wore inappropriate shoes.
A nervous giggle escaped and she settled back against the seat. “Dream on if you think you’re going to get rid of me that easy. If we ever actually reach the TeamWork camp. I’ll have you know I was voted Most Resourceful Volunteer at a Habitat for Humani
ty project last summer. So, it’s not like I haven’t helped with this type of thing before.” That sounded boastful and totally self-absorbed. She really needed to learn to be quiet sometimes.
Sam smiled. “I don’t doubt it for a second. If I may ask, what task were you assigned at the Habitat worksite?”
Lexa bit her lip. She looked out the window and avoided those probing eyes.
“Lexa?”
She shook her head. “Let’s just say I stretched the food budget and fed seventy-five people with provisions for fifty.” She shrugged. “Simple mathematics and reasoning.”
“So, you multiplied the loaves and fish?”
“Guess chicken and potatoes, and you’re getting somewhere.”
“Well, if our food supplies run low, I’ll know to come to you. You’ve proven yourself pretty hardy. You’ve already passed the dust-in-the-lungs attack, the flat tire and the goat spitting thing. Those are impressive feats all on their own.”
Lexa dropped her gaze from those probing eyes. “May I ask why you’re looking at me like that? Surely I don’t look like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.”
“No. But you do look sort of like a . . . oh, I don’t know . . . maybe a goat in the headlights or something.”
“Very funny. Just drive, Mr. Lewis.”
He chuckled. “Your wish is my command.”
Maybe that old goat actually did her a favor. After the eventful trip from the San Antonio bus station to the campsite, she felt inspired and ready to face any challenge TeamWork threw her way. She’d survived a spit assault by a major league goat, so anything was possible. It was downright empowering.
“One other thing. I hope you don’t plan on wearing any perfume other than bug spray while you’re at the TeamWork camp. It might attract . . . certain creatures, too.”