Finding His Way Home

by Mia Ross

  What had gone wrong? he wondered and let his memory wander back in time to when things had last felt right for him. He was stunned to realize he’d been sitting right here, trading subtle shoves with his brothers so they wouldn’t get caught misbehaving. Eager to discover what lay beyond the sheltered valley where he’d grown up, he’d left not long after that and had only come back for the holidays.

  In a cruel twist, the world he’d longed to explore had chewed him up and spat him out, nothing more than another country boy who’d gotten in over his head. Now here he was, struggling to reclaim the life he could’ve had all along if only he’d found a way to be content with what he’d had.

  Jenna nudged him back to the present, and he refocused on what the pastor was saying.

  “At different times in our lives, many of us find ourselves on a path that leads us into trouble.” His gaze meandered through the congregation, his fatherly smile not landing on anyone in particular but somehow including them all. “Leaving that trouble behind requires us to blaze a new trail for ourselves and hopefully for others, as well. It’s not easy, but our Heavenly Father is willing to give us the strength we need to make a fresh start. We need only to go to Him with an honest, open heart and ask for His forgiveness.”

  Was it really that easy? Scott wondered. Now that he thought about it, after returning home he’d felt better once he apologized to his parents for letting them down. But when he looked in the mirror, the face of a guilty man still stared back at him. Maybe that was because he’d been trying to slog through this mess on his own, instead of talking to the One who could make it go away.

  Lowering his head, he closed his eyes and kept it simple: God, please help me.

  As if in response, he felt Jenna’s hand on his arm and angled his head to find her watching him with worried eyes. Smiling to ease her concern, he realized that God had been at work already, dropping Jenna into his life just when he needed her most. Bright and cheerful, she was the ideal balance to the darkness that had been dogging him for far too long.

  Reaching over, he took her hand and gave it a grateful squeeze before opening his hymnal for the final song. She hadn’t exaggerated her lack of singing skills, he mused while she wandered through the notes, making a game attempt to find the right ones. Then again, when he considered her many other talents, having a tin ear wasn’t so bad.

  When he shared his opinion with her, she stared up at him in amazement. “Seriously? Even Amy, one of my best friends ever, can’t stand it.”

  “I’ve heard worse.”

  Somehow, he managed to keep a straight face, but she saw right through him and laughed as a slender teenage girl and a middle-aged man approached them.

  “We don’t mean to intrude,” the man began in a hesitant tone.

  “You’re not at all,” Jenna assured him, boldly sticking out her hand. “You must be Gretchen’s dad. I’m Jenna Reed, and this is Scott Barrett.”

  “Frank Lewis. It’s a real pleasure to meet you both.” He sounded a little more sure of himself now, and he gave Scott a friendly look. “Are you related to the Diane Barrett who runs the teen center here at the church?”

  “She’s my mother,” he confirmed proudly.

  “She’s awesome,” Gretchen said, eyes shining with genuine affection. “She set me up with a real-life artist so I could learn more about painting. And your grandmother’s going to teach me how to cook. Isn’t that cool?”

  “Very cool.”

  Scott knew instinctively that Jenna had arranged the cooking lessons, and he silently thanked her. With Granddad gone, what Gram needed more than anything was to be involved with people, and who better than this enthusiastic girl who so obviously craved a feminine influence in her life?

  Looking behind Gretchen, Jenna asked, “Do you have something back there you want to show me?”

  “I was doing some research online and found this.” She brought out a wire-bound sketch pad and flipped it open to the right page. She’d printed out a photo of a stained-glass window and taped it to the paper.

  “That’s our window,” Scott blurted in surprise. “Where’d you find it?”

  “Well, Jenna said your family built the chapel, so I checked out your history on one of those genealogy websites. The Barretts who settled here were originally from Wales,” she informed him proudly. “Did you know that?”

  He did, but he hated to dampen her enthusiasm, so he played dumb. “Huh. How ’bout that?”

  “Anyway, there’s a pretty church in their hometown, and the altar window looks a lot like the one here.” Turning to Jenna, she added, “The Welsh one isn’t missing any pieces, so I was thinking you could use it as a model for the one you’re restoring.”

  “The one we’re restoring,” Jenna corrected her, hugging her around the shoulders. “So far, you’ve done all the work. Are you up to finishing the job?”

  “Totally,” she gasped, joy lighting her eyes. “It would be fabulous to keep working with you.”

  “Not so fast,” Jenna cautioned sternly. “A freelancer never agrees to anything until she knows how much it pays.”

  “You’re gonna pay me?” When Jenna nodded, Gretchen looked as if she was ready to explode. “How much?”

  Jenna named a reasonable number, then shifted her focus to the girl’s father. “As long as you think that’s appropriate, of course.”

  “More than,” he agreed instantly. The gratitude that flooded his gaunt face made it clear the money would be very welcome in their family. Folding her hand in both of his, he gently shook it. “God bless you, Miss Reed.”

  “He already has,” she assured him. “And it’s Jenna. One condition on this gig, though.” Pinning her assistant with a deadly serious look, she said, “School comes first. Before you come to my studio, all your homework has to be done. If your grades start slipping, the deal’s off. Got it?”

  Nodding eagerly, Gretchen launched herself at Jenna for a ferocious hug, and Scott heard her whisper, “You’re the best.”

  Funny, Scott thought as the Lewises headed for the door. He knew exactly how Gretchen felt.

  His family was coming down the aisle, and he braced himself for some fussing about him attending the service. To his great relief, no one mentioned it, and they all walked out as if they went to church together every Sunday morning.

  When they were out front, Paul caught him by the arm. “Are you busy?”

  “As a one-armed paper hanger.” It was one of their father’s favorite comebacks, and they both laughed. “What’d you need?”

  “Think you could come over and take a look at our dining room?” Chelsea was talking with Jenna, and Paul slid a look her way before leaning in to mutter, “She’s worried about you getting the breakfront for our dining room done before the baby’s born.”

  “That’s what you get for marrying an accountant,” Scott teased, getting a tight frown in reply. Suddenly concerned, he asked if everything was okay.

  “Never better.”

  He added a smile, but Scott had known this guy all his life. His lighthearted big brother was worried about something, and judging by the faint shadows under his eyes, it had nothing to do with the furniture business. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “That might work on the rest of the family, but this is me you’re talking to. Spill it.”

  “Not here,” he stalled, glancing at the people milling around, chatting and laughing. “Come to the house, and I’ll fill you in.”

  “I drove in with Jenna. That old truck’s giving me fits.”

  “Actually, that’s perfect. She can keep Chelsea occupied while we talk.”

  The relief in his brother’s voice was impossible to miss. Apparently, he needed someone to confide in, and Scott was elected. How that had happened, he wasn’t sure, but he suspected it was because whatever Paul had to say would freak o
ut their parents, and Jason was too caught up in being a newlywed to be much good in a crisis.

  It had been a while since someone had needed him for anything important, but to his surprise, Scott was glad to be chosen. He wasn’t sure how much help he’d actually be, but at least he could listen. When Jenna and Chelsea joined them, he asked, “Jenna, would you mind going over to their house for a little while? I want to look at their woodwork and take some measurements for Chelsea’s new buffet.”

  “No problem,” she replied immediately, smiling at the parents-to-be. “I was planning to do a fairy-tale mural in the nursery as a shower gift. This way, I can get an idea how big it should be and what colors to use.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Chelsea exclaimed with a quick hug. “Thank you for thinking of it.”

  “It suits me well, too,” Jenna commented with a wink. “I won’t have to ship a gift to you from wherever I am.”

  They all started walking, and somehow the girls wound up sandwiched between Paul and Scott. The cozy arrangement should’ve felt strange to him, but for some reason it didn’t. Why, he couldn’t exactly say, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out his new perspective had a lot to do with the sunny, sweet-tempered artist he’d been hanging out with lately.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go,” Chelsea was saying in a wistful tone. “Amy and I are really gonna miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you guys, too, but I take in more than half my money for the whole year during the summer art circuit. Without that, I might have to break down and get a real job,” she added with a convincing shudder.

  “I know what you mean,” Chelsea answered as they headed across the town square to the stately old colonial she and Paul were rehabbing. “Once I started working at the mill with Paul, doing all kinds of different, interesting things every day, I couldn’t stand the thought of going back to the bank.”

  They’d all grown up together, and Scott remembered Chelsea being a quiet bookworm who didn’t have time for much beyond studying and more studying. How she’d blossomed into this vibrant, caring woman was a mystery to him. It just proved that under the right circumstances anyone could change. Another lesson for the troubled man in his mirror, he realized.

  When they reached the front door, Paul turned to face them with a grim expression. “Calling this house a work in progress is a huge understatement. Just wanna warn you.”

  “I had to move my bed from under a new leak in the roof last night,” Scott told him with a chuckle. “How bad can this place be?”

  That seemed to ease Paul’s mind, and he unlocked the door to let them inside. The walls were plain Sheetrock, and a couple of them sported various swipes of paint. The colors weren’t even remotely similar, and Scott assumed that meant his brother and sister-in-law were having a tough time agreeing on—well, everything.

  “Come on upstairs,” Chelsea said to Jenna. “The nursery’s in good shape, so you can get an idea of where your mural will look best.”

  “You and Paul are going to make such wonderful parents,” Jenna commented, smiling over at him. “You must be so excited about the baby.”

  “A little terrified, too,” Chelsea confided with a hesitant expression. “Being a mom is such a huge responsibility.”

  “Oh, you’ll do fine,” Jenna told her. “You’ve had lots of practice the last few months with the crew out at the mill. Not to mention Paul and Jason.”

  “You’re hilarious,” Paul growled good-naturedly and then said to Scott, “Are you sure you want her helping out at your place? She can be a real pain.”

  “Really?” Grinning at her, he added, “Guess we have something in common, after all.”

  As she and Chelsea headed upstairs, Jenna turned back and actually stuck her tongue out at him. Much as he hated to admit it, he really liked her spunk. She took things in stride that upended most folks, and she viewed the world with a cheerful disposition he wouldn’t mind sharing.

  Paul watched them go with worried eyes, and Scott put aside his musings to focus on more serious things. Once the girls were out of earshot on the second floor, Scott took a seat on an antique piano stool in the living room. He noticed there was no piano, but decided not to irritate his brother by mentioning it. “What’s up?”

  “It’s the mill,” Paul confessed with a sigh. “We were hoping to be further into the black by now, but it’s not looking all that promising.”

  From memory, he rattled off a hefty list of problems with suppliers and spreadsheets, and Scott could hardly believe what he was hearing. Paul had always been the easygoing one, good at everything he tried the first time around. When he finished his sad story, Scott finally grinned. “You sound like a businessman.”

  “Wish I felt more like one,” he grumbled with a scowl.

  “The obvious solution is to add another product or two to the catalog for your customers. Any thoughts?”

  By the way he was eyeballing Scott, it was clear Paul already had come up with an idea and was using this little powwow to test the waters. Realizing he’d been set up, Scott swallowed a groan. “Okay, hit me.”

  “Affordable custom cabinetry is big these days. Folks send you their dimensions, you design and build the cabinets for them or their contractor to install. It could be just the thing to get us over this hump and stabilize the mill’s cash flow.”

  “Which lets Chelsea take some time off without worrying too much about keeping up with the books,” Scott commented to show he understood there was more to this problem than money.

  “Yeah. The problem is, we don’t know if it’ll fly or not. That’s where you come in,” he added with one of those big-brother grins Scott used to hate. Paul hauled them out when he was trying to talk Scott or Jason into doing something against their better judgment. The fact that he usually succeeded said as much about them as him, Scott recalled with a grimace.

  Then again, Barrett’s Sawmill had failed once before during its long history. If he was capable of helping Paul avoid a repeat performance, he’d do what he could. “What’ve you got in mind?”

  “You do great work, and if we can show people that, we can gauge how much interest there might be in this kind of thing. You make a few pieces, we put ’em up on the website and see what happens. It could solve all our problems.”

  Or create a bunch of new ones. Scott forced the negative thought back down where it belonged. He was trying desperately to move on with his life. He’d never get anywhere if he kept viewing every opportunity from the bleakest angle possible.

  “Okay, I’m in. Since I promised Chelsea this buffet anyway, why don’t I start with that?”

  “Great idea,” Paul approved with a broad grin. “It’ll make her happy twice, and make me look like a genius.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I live for.” He figured there was no time like the present, so he pushed himself to his feet and looked through the unfinished arch into the dining room. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got in mind? I’ll grab some measurements and draw up a few concepts for you guys to look at so I can put together a materials list and get started on the build.”

  “And after that’s done?”

  Unaccustomed to considering anyone else in his plans, taking on this challenge was a real stretch for him. As Paul eagerly waited for his answer, Scott hunted for other options and came up with exactly none. It was him or nothing, apparently, and he relented with a sigh. “I’ll get the cabinetry line going so you can see how it’ll work. If you decide to follow through with it, you’re gonna need to hire someone for real.”

  “Will do.”

  Slinging an arm around Scott’s shoulders, Paul walked him into the bare dining room and pointed out the hand-carved crown molding and trim framing the doors and windows. While Scott listened, he got the distinct impression that Paul believed he’d corralled a permanent cabinetmaker fo
r the Barrett’s Sawmill brand.

  Scott had no intention of staying in town any longer than legally necessary, but he didn’t have the heart to tell his brother that. So, in the interest of family harmony, he kept his mouth shut.

  Chapter Eight

  As an artist there was nothing Jenna adored more than sinking everything she had into a project and giving her creative spirit free rein over the rest of her life. Sometimes she got so engrossed in what she was doing, she even forgot to eat. Then she’d look up and realize the sun had gone down and most of the day had spun around her without her noticing the passing hours.

  Standing in her darkening studio on a cloudy Wednesday afternoon, she folded her arms and stepped back from the wall to assess the progress of the piece she was sketching onto a large piece of see-through paper. This one wasn’t exactly work, of course. It was a labor of love for the new little Barrett who would be coming into the world soon.

  A child she wouldn’t get a chance to meet, she acknowledged with a frown. The large, raucous family that had given this charming town its name and iconic sawmill had embraced her from her first days here, making her feel at home. In all her years of wandering, that had never happened to her, and she couldn’t deny it was making her question her commitment to the traveling art circuit that would begin in a few short weeks.

  Every summer, she’d happily packed her artwork and everything she owned into her van, taking off on her latest adventure. Reconnecting with old friends at the fairs, making new ones, exploring different places—those had always been her favorite elements of the life she led. Long before it was time to leave wherever she was, she looked forward to shedding her more settled existence and embracing the freedom of life on the road.