Hometown Girl

by Courtney Walsh

  There was no sign of her. Panic settled in his heart. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Beth.

  Drew called Roxie into the kitchen, where she turned in circles, her wet fur dripping on the linoleum floor.

  “Where is she, girl?”

  He rushed outside and scanned the yard. A quick pass through the main barn told him it was secure, but that pile of rotted wood behind it was still a huge concern. He couldn’t stand the thought that the mess he’d left behind could damage the buildings they’d worked so hard to restore.

  He raced back behind the main barn, but Beth was nowhere to be seen.

  “Come on, Beth, where are you?” He tapped his hand on his thigh, staring out across the yard. She had to be out there somewhere.

  He hurried on into a clearing at the back of the property. The little chapel came into view. If she was upset, it made sense she’d go there. To get some perspective. Maybe to pray. He ran toward the church as the wind whipped through the trees, and the rain seemed to fall from every direction. He kept his head down and followed the sound of Roxie’s barking. Thunder and lightning erupted overhead, and he could think only about the muffled voices on the police scanner.

  What if a tornado whipped through Fairwind? It could take the entire farm all at once. And if Beth wasn’t prepared for it—it could kill her.

  He had to find her. He had to keep her safe.

  Roxie reached the chapel before Drew. She stood outside the door and barked. Beth had to be inside. He reached the door just as hail started pelting the rooftop. On the ground, golf-ball-sized bits of ice bounced into the grass. Drew pulled open the door, fighting against the force of the wind. He motioned to Roxie to go inside, though he knew the chapel was hardly a safe place to weather a storm this powerful.

  The door slammed open for the second time since Beth had taken cover underneath a pew at the front of the little chapel. She’d left her phone back in the house, but she’d lived in Illinois long enough to know this was no ordinary storm.

  Twice, she’d almost made a run for it, but the thunder, lightning and wind forced her to stay put.

  Outside, another crash vibrated the floor. What had started as a calm retreat from the day had turned into a white-knuckled hideout, reminding her of all the times she and Molly had hidden under their covers with flashlights, waiting for storms to blow over.

  “Beth?”

  Drew’s voice cut through the silence. She crawled out from under the pew and met his eyes. He stood in the doorway, rainwater pooling beneath him, his face, arms and hair wet.

  “What are you doing here?” She stood.

  His breaths came quick. He’d been running. “There was a tornado on the other side of town.”

  “Is anyone hurt?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Are you okay?” He moved toward her, holding up her phone. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

  The sky outside flashed with the kind of lightning that didn’t have to pause for effect. Thunder followed immediately.

  “I’m fine,” she said, assuming he meant physically. “You’re drenched.”

  “It’s raining out,” he said dryly. He watched her for a long moment, and she saw the relief loosen his shoulders. “You’re okay.” He took another step toward her, cautious, as if asking for permission.

  “I’m fine.” Beth stared at the floor. “Are you okay?”

  He must’ve felt the distance she put between them. He dropped onto the back pew and rubbed his temples, eyes closed. “I will be.”

  She wanted to help him—to let him off the hook for not telling her everything right from the start. Any shred of suspicion or anger had been pulled out of her and replaced with understanding.

  Outside, the sound of wood cracking and splitting drew them both toward the window. Drew got there first and quickly shoved Beth behind him. “Get back.”

  More cracking wood, more vibrations from the thunder.

  He stepped back from the glass. “I think we just lost a tree.”

  Beth paced. “Tornado?”

  He turned. “I’m not sure. But it’s not safe in here. This is the oldest building on the property.”

  Roxie barked.

  Fear rose inside her. “What do we do? We can’t leave.”

  “I know. We have to wait it out.” He strode back toward Beth. “Move to the center of the room, away from the windows. Back under the pews.”

  Beth did as she was told while Drew tried to calm Roxie down, pulling her underneath the wooden benches.

  When he settled in, he was lying on his side, facing her, one arm propping his head up off the ground. He took her hand, and somehow that simple gesture made her feel safe. As if he’d just pledged to keep her that way.

  Outside, the storm raged, but Beth’s fear had faded. She’d given her life, this farm, Drew—all of it to God. That meant He was in control of whatever happened.

  She’d spent too long being angry with Him; it was time to let it all go. To lay it down. To find her “why.”

  To rest in the peace that He promised.

  Drew had a faraway look in his eyes—so close, and yet still just out of reach. She studied his face, his ice-blue eyes, the scar on his chin. She wanted to know how he’d gotten it. She wanted to know how often he shaved and if he used an electric razor. She wanted to know how he celebrated Christmas and when his next birthday would be. She wanted to know everything about him, and she’d wait as long as he needed her to.

  Because words weren’t easy for this man.

  But loving was. He was good and safe and kind.

  She never should’ve implied otherwise.

  Lying on the floor of the old chapel in the woods, it was as if God was giving her a picture of the lonely life Drew Barlow had led, carrying a guilt that was never his to bear.

  She saw that ten-year-old boy in the man at her side, and she knew what he needed was unconditional love. He needed the reassurance that when the storm that raged inside him finally ended, leaving the grass greener and the flowers a shade more vivid, she’d still be there. No judgment. No questions.

  The same kind of unconditional love she’d been given. It was a gift—and she wanted to learn to give it freely.

  To be known and still loved without question. Isn’t that what we all want?

  Beth had been staring at Drew’s chest, aware he wasn’t avoiding her eyes. She felt his gaze on her. Another crash of thunder shook the chapel, but she barely noticed. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his. She reached out and let her hand rest on Drew’s stubbled cheek, certain that somewhere within him was the heart of the boy who’d lost hope all those years ago.

  And she loved him. Deeply and without strings. Even if it made her weak. Even if he didn’t love her back. Even if he hadn’t told her every single secret he kept.

  And she left the rest in God’s hands.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  After half an hour underneath the pews, Beth could tell the rain had mostly stopped. The thunder and lightning seemed to have moved on, but neither she nor Drew moved.

  At some point during the storm, he’d pulled her closer, enveloping her in his arms, and now, still lying beside him, hand resting calmly on his chest, she wished they could continue to hide away.

  But they had to face reality at some point.

  “I suppose we should go check on the farm.” Dread resonated in his voice. All that work—his work—was on the line. “Not knowing is worse than facing it.”

  Somehow she had the feeling he wasn’t talking only about the damage from the storm.

  She drew in a deep breath, then inched her way out of his arms. “I guess you’re right.”

  He scooted out from under the pew and stood, staring at her.

  They’d hardly spoken since he’d arrived, opting instead to listen to the storm as it beat on the sides of the chapel, praying the roof wouldn’t cave.

  But now, when she looked at him, she saw him more clearly than she ha
d before. “I’m sorry, Drew.”

  He held up a hand. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

  She wanted to say more. To ask questions and make sense of the burden he carried, but she knew that wasn’t what he needed right now. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him in an apologetic hug, wishing she’d been more understanding from the start. He held her for a long moment, then slipped his hand in hers and led her out of the church, Roxie close behind.

  They started toward the farmhouse, walking through the wet grass, rain still dripping from the leaves overhead. Branches were down all over the yard, and the Adirondack chairs they’d set up around the bonfire had been blown out into the cornfield.

  “Looks like we did lose a couple of trees.” He pointed off to the right where the tree line met the cornfield.

  The potential devastation of a storm like this began to sink in. They’d worked tirelessly for weeks—what if everything they’d accomplished had been undone in a matter of minutes?

  Drew squeezed her hand, leading her toward the main barn. They both knew this building was the most important. They could reopen the farm without any others, but this one housed everything they needed for the fall, not to mention the barn sale only a few weekends away.

  Beth’s stomach lurched as they maneuvered through the downed branches and debris scattered across the yard.

  Drew led her around to the front of the barn, which from this vantage point seemed undamaged, but when they opened the doors, they saw a gaping hole in the back corner where the roof had torn away. Several inches of water stood in a puddle, ruining their newly finished floor.

  Without the roof intact, the storm had ripped through the building, tossing tables and breaking glass. Branches, leaves and dirt had collected all across the floor.

  Beth stood at the center of the barn in a puddle of water, and hopelessness washed over her. “It’s ruined.”

  Drew started around the perimeter, assessing the damage the same way he’d done his first day on the job. Birdie’s artwork and several pieces from the farmhouse had been drenched—probably ruined. The overturned tables that had been collecting barn-sale items looked like remnants of a riot, their contents in piles all over the wet floor. Two sets of shelves they’d installed had been torn away from the wall, and the glass cooler was broken.

  At the back of the barn, Drew stopped, his face looking every bit as forlorn as Beth felt. For once, she didn’t mind that he had nothing to say. She didn’t need words to know what he thought.

  Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, and she went through the motions of fishing it out and answering.

  “Miss Whitaker. Davis Biddle.”

  She nodded, as if he could see her through the phone.

  “We just drove by Fairwind and saw the damage. Looks like the cleanup and repairs will be extensive.”

  Why was he calling her to tell her what she already knew?

  “Just wanted you to know my offer is still good.”

  Her eyes found Drew, who watched her as she listened to the man on the other end. Was it some sort of sign that it was time to let go of this crazy idea once and for all? Had she been wrong—again—about what God wanted her to do? She’d been so sure when she’d gone against her father’s wishes, so sure when she’d devoted so many years to Michael. She’d thought this time was different.

  She’d thought Fairwind was her “why.”

  She’d even begun to think that living here, in Willow Grove, wasn’t a consolation prize. It didn’t make her a disappointment—it was a gift, like Birdie said.

  How could she have been so wrong?

  “Miss Whitaker, I’m sure you’re in shock right now, but believe me, this is nothing I can’t handle.”

  If Davis bought Fairwind, it wouldn’t be a community gem anymore. It wouldn’t be a tourist attraction or a place for families to reconnect. It would just be a memory of what used to be.

  Is that what You really want, Lord?

  She looked down at the water pooling around her feet, thanked Davis and hung up, avoiding that earnest expression on the face of the man she loved.

  She’d have to find a way to explain to Drew that all their hard work might have been for nothing. They might have to sell the farm to Davis Biddle—whether they wanted to or not.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Beth stood on the porch, watching as Ben’s truck pulled into the parking lot next to her Audi. Moments later, Molly’s VW Bug appeared at the farm’s entry.

  A Whitaker family meeting was in order, and Beth had a feeling it wouldn’t go smoothly.

  Yesterday’s storm had upended their plans, and her brother and sister needed to see it for themselves. She and Drew hadn’t discussed the future of the farm. He’d spent every waking minute since they’d left the chapel clearing away the debris that had rained down on their beloved Fairwind. Never in her life had she known someone to work with such diligence, especially for something that wasn’t his.

  Why couldn’t they just crawl back underneath the chapel pew and pretend none of this was happening?

  Molly and Bishop got out of the VW as Ben opened the door of his truck. Under different circumstances, it might have been a nice gathering.

  Beth greeted everyone, the mood decidedly somber. “I asked Callie to join us too,” she said, watching her old friend’s car pull into the parking lot. “The bakery was one of the areas hit the worst.” She hated that she’d talked Callie into coming on this grand adventure with her and everything had fallen apart.

  “I’ll show you guys the damage.”

  They reached the main barn and took turns marveling at the harm the storm had done. Thankfully, most of the other outbuildings, including Birdie’s art barn, were unscathed. Beth would cling to that small miracle every time she looked at the hole in the main barn’s roof.

  They stood in the doorway looking at the destruction as Drew cleared away all of the branches that didn’t belong indoors.

  “Thank God you weren’t hurt, Beth,” Callie said.

  “I’m fine. Drew’s fine. Even the animals are all fine,” she said. “But we have a lot of work to do.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Molly said.

  Beth’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I know Davis Biddle called you.”

  Beth’s heart lurched. She could feel Drew’s eyes on her. Why hadn’t she told him about the phone call? Because she was actually considering taking the offer or because she didn’t want him to tell her to consider taking the offer?

  It was an impossible decision.

  “Who’s Davis Biddle?”

  Beth couldn’t believe what she was hearing as Molly filled Ben in on Davis’s offer. Clearly her sister—the one who’d once fought tooth and nail for this farm—had given up.

  Just like that.

  “I can’t believe you.”

  Molly turned to her. “What?”

  “You think we should sell.”

  “Of course I do, Beth. Look around.”

  Beth could feel the slack in her own jaw. What had happened to Molly’s insistence that this was their second chance? Didn’t her sister understand how much Beth had grown to love this farm?

  The realization wove through the back of Beth’s mind.

  She loved this place. And she’d fight for it—even if her sister wouldn’t.

  “No. Fairwind is not for sale.” Beth squared her shoulders.

  “The way I see it,” Molly said, “we didn’t have enough money before the storm, but now? All the work we’ve already done is ruined.”

  “We can fix it,” Beth said.

  “Not for free.” Molly shook her head. “I think maybe you were right from the beginning. It might be time to admit that we’re in over our heads.”

  “So, what? We’re just supposed to pack it all up? Sell the farm to a man who’ll turn it into God only knows what?”

  “What do you suggest, Beth?” Ben asked coolly. “We’ve sunk abou
t as much as we want to into this place.”

  He was right. She had nothing more to give. She’d practically drained her trust on repairs for Fairwind Farm. But this couldn’t be the end. She couldn’t give up on her “why” just because she didn’t see a way out of this right at that moment.

  Sunlight streamed in through the gaping hole in the roof.

  “Just let me think for a minute,” she said.

  “There’s nothing to think about.” Molly crossed her arms.

  “Then what am I supposed to do now?” She was horrified when her eyes filled with tears. Behind her, Drew stopped moving, gaze fixed on her.

  “Beth, you can go back to your job at Whitaker Mowers, and it’ll be like none of this ever happened,” Molly said.

  “I can’t.” The words slipped out before she could catch them.

  “Of course you can. They’ve probably been bugging you for taking so much time off.”

  Beth’s eyes fell to the ground at Molly’s feet. “No, they haven’t. They asked me to resign.”

  “They what?” Ben asked.

  She looked up. Found their eyes, full of confusion. Drew took a step toward her—for moral support?

  “I made a mistake. A big one. It cost the company a lot of money.” A knot caught in her throat. “Dad found out about it, and he covered for me, but after he died, I knew it was only a matter of time before someone else connected the dots.”

  “Beth,” Molly practically whispered.

  “How bad was it?” Ben asked.

  “Bad.” Shame wound its way through her belly. “It was really bad. And Dad told me it was bad before I did it, but I thought I knew better.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Molly asked.

  A tear streamed down Beth’s cheek. “Are you kidding? And admit that I was wrong?” She wiped the tear away. “What would you have thought of your big sister then?”

  “Um, that she was human?” Molly reached over and tugged on Beth’s hand. “It’s okay, Beth. We all mess up.”

  “I know that now. And I know that keeping it to myself only made it worse, but I was afraid of letting you all down. Especially Dad. I thought if I could make a go of this—make it work somehow—I could prove that I wasn’t a total disaster.”