Finding His Way Home

by Mia Ross

  It was painstaking work, but before long they had the makings of the tree that stood in the corner of the original window. Then Jenna took a deep breath and sent up a quick prayer for a steady hand as she began running a razor-sharp knife along the markings. When the outline of a piece was complete, she snapped it free and handed it to Gretchen, who dry fitted it in place.

  Using the lead dividers that would hold the design together, they worked on opposite sides, slipping in the different colors like puzzle pieces. Consulting the map, they agreed they’d gotten everything in its proper place. After a quick snack, Jenna picked up the soldering gun that had been heating and prepared to lock in the first area. Reconsidering, she stopped midair and offered the gun to Gretchen.

  “Are you serious?” she squeaked. “What if I mess it up?”

  “Then we pluck it out, clean it off and start over. You’re the one who did the legwork that made this possible. You should have the honors.”

  “Okay.”

  Rubbing her hands on her jeans, Gretchen took the gun and bent over the incomplete frame. She was so intent on her task, she didn’t seem to notice Jenna recording her until she stood up to stretch out her back. “Are you making a video of me?”

  “Yes, I am. But if it makes you nervous, I’ll stop.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Clearly flattered, she added a cute giggle. “Could I get a copy and put it online? My friends would think it was cool.”

  Jenna couldn’t see a problem with that, so she nodded. “Just don’t get distracted. Kurt’s getting ready to join the Renaissance fair circuit and he doesn’t have time for any more glassmaking till fall.”

  “I thought you were leaving soon, too,” Gretchen commented, glancing around the studio that still appeared to be more or less the way it was last week. “It doesn’t look to me like you’re going anywhere.”

  While Jenna wasn’t normally the confiding type, she wasn’t one to hide things from people, either. Over the past couple of weeks, Gretchen had proven to be responsible and trustworthy. She was keeping her grades up while spending her after-school hours helping Jenna with everything from prepping canvas frames to painting subtle details into local landscapes.

  “Can you keep a secret?” she asked. When the girl nodded eagerly, she went on. “I’m thinking about staying here awhile longer.”

  “That would be so awesome! I thought you were set on doing the art festivals, though. What made you change your mind?”

  So many things, Jenna thought, but one rose head and shoulders above the others. Literally. When she smiled, her assistant giggled again. “Oh, I get it. It’s Scott.”

  “Not entirely,” Jenna protested, then gave it up and laughed herself. “Okay, mostly. But I liked the town and the folks here even before I met him. You should never do anything just for a guy,” she cautioned sternly. “Suit yourself first, and you’ll have more to offer other people.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Mrs. Barrett says, too. Both of them, actually.”

  “Diane and Olivia are two of the smartest women I’ve ever met,” Jenna said warmly. “No matter how old you get, you won’t ever go wrong following their advice.”

  Gretchen’s enthusiasm faded, and a wistful expression took its place. “Sometimes I really miss my mom.”

  Jenna’s heart lurched unexpectedly, and she took a moment to let the lingering bitterness wash over her and move on. It had been years, but every now and then those old hurts sneaked up on her and knocked her off balance. When she felt more solid, she said, “I know, honey. This probably doesn’t help you much, but I think she’s missing out on a great kid.”

  “Thanks.” Adding a watery smile, Gretchen seemed to gather herself and then focused back on their project. “Do you think we have time to do another section?”

  Picking up on her desire to change the subject, Jenna decided it was best to follow her lead. “Sure. Which one do you want to do next?”

  Gretchen chose to finish the meadow comprised mostly of green with a few slender shards of other colors dotted in as flowers. While they worked, they talked about her friends and school, especially a couple of boys who’d started paying more attention to the new girl. The easygoing conversation reminded Jenna of her old friend Vicky, whose parents had been generous enough to take in an abandoned sixteen-year-old and make sure she finished high school.

  It had been a while since she last called them, Jenna realized, although they frequently traded jokes and news online. With Mother’s Day coming up, she made a mental note to get a card for the kindhearted teacher who’d been more like a mother to her than the woman who’d passed along her talent but not much of anything else. Sometimes, Jenna thought that was a good thing.

  Other times, like Gretchen, she missed her mom. They’d shared some good stretches when they hadn’t been bugging out in the middle of the night to avoid paying back rent to an angry landlord. Jenna dimly recalled trips to the beach at sunset to paint, and a day at a county fair when she’d ridden a gentle draft horse named Gideon, who had been the biggest creature she’d ever seen. There were other positive memories, too, but sadly they were few and far between.

  All of them put together couldn’t balance out the fact that one night her mother had simply walked out of her life. Discouraged by her own inability to forgive and forget, Jenna sent up a fervent prayer that someday Gretchen would find a way to come to terms with her past and be happy.

  * * *

  “So,” Heath began while he checked another spark plug and tossed it on the growing pile of junk parts on the ground. “Jenna Reed seems nice.”

  Hard as he’d been trying, Scott was having a tough time masking his feelings for the bright, bubbly artist. Finally, he gave up and relented with a grin. “She is.”

  “And you like her.” Yanking a worn-out hose from its spot, his old buddy scowled at it and added it to the others. The new one didn’t want to go on, but he persuaded it into place with a grunt of satisfaction. Resting his forearms on the fender, he said, “Paul said you and Jenna are just friends, but it didn’t look that way to me the other night. What’s really going on with you two?”

  As it had so many times, Scott’s mind wandered back to that evening, and he couldn’t help smiling. While he wasn’t impulsive by nature, kissing Jenna had been a leap that had taken him by surprise. That she’d returned it was even more astonishing, and he hadn’t quite figured out what that meant.

  It might have been a sweet gesture from someone he’d been spending most of his free time with. Then again, when he considered the fact that he kept wishing she’d rethink her summer plans, he couldn’t help wondering if there was something developing between them, after all.

  One thing he couldn’t deny: holding her that way had felt right to him. No matter how many times he rolled that scene around in his head, he couldn’t find a single thing wrong with it. The problem was it made him wish for more nights like that one, laughing and talking with her, listening when she had something to tell him.

  Ending with a kiss that promised more if he wanted them. Which he did, in spite of his persistent doubts about diving into a serious relationship anytime soon. Like the homestead, his life was in a precarious state right now, teetering in that gray zone between feeling solid and caving in on him.

  Was it right to ask someone else to take that on when he wasn’t even sure he wanted it himself? He carefully followed the terms of his parole, never getting close to crossing a line that might extend his sentence even one more day. The officer in charge of his case filed glowing reports of Scott’s efforts and had assured him that if he continued the way he had been, this time next year he’d be a totally free man.

  And then what? Scott mused while he cracked open a set of new spark plugs and handed one of them to Heath. Paul asking him to start a new line of furniture for the family business was as gratifying for Scott as
it was out of the blue. His modest inheritance wouldn’t last forever, so eventually he’d need a job. Finding work was the toughest challenge for ex-cons, and if he signed on at the mill, he wouldn’t have to worry about scraping by as a temporary laborer somewhere.

  “Dime for your thoughts,” Heath suggested without looking at him.

  “Isn’t it a penny?”

  “Smart as you are?” the mechanic chuckled. “A dime seems more like it. You don’t have to tell me,” he added, glancing over before focusing back on the plugs. “But if you’re looking for an ear, I’m a pretty good listener.”

  Why not? Scott decided, going on to fill his old friend in. Heath was mostly quiet, nodding and “hmm-ing” just often enough to keep the one-way conversation moving. When he’d touched on all the details, Scott ended with something he rarely did: he asked Heath for his opinion. “What would you do?”

  “Take the job and put a ring on Jenna’s finger before someone else does.”

  “Is that advice or a threat?” When his friend grinned, Scott laughed. “I knew you liked her just a little too much.”

  “What’s not to like? She’s pretty and talented and she’s got a great sense of humor. Women like that don’t just fall outta the sky, y’know.” Setting down his tools, he wiped his hands on a rag and asked, “How’d you two get together, anyway?”

  Scott relayed their unusual meeting, and Heath gave him an odd sidelong look. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You don’t think that’s some kind of a hint? Like, from Will?”

  “That’s nuts,” he protested with a short laugh. “I think you’ve been under the hood with that engine so long the gas vapors are getting to you.”

  Heath shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I’m telling you stranger things have happened.”

  “Not to me.”

  “Well, now,” he muttered as he dipped back under the hood. “That’s a shame.”

  Scott had no clue what the guy was talking about, and he didn’t want to. But while they continued working, he couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that—as much as he hated to believe it—Heath just might have a point.

  His grandfather had left him not only a place to live, but seed money and something to occupy his time until he got fully back on his feet. Generous and pragmatic, the solution had enabled him to regain his bearings and his pride. Both had taken a real beating these past few years, and he’d always be grateful to the man who’d figured out what Scott needed most and made sure it was waiting for him when he returned to Barrett’s Mill.

  Unsettling at it was to acknowledge such an unusual possibility, one thing was certain. If God had assigned him a guardian angel to help him rebuild his life, Scott couldn’t have asked for anyone better than Granddad.

  “Okay,” he allowed with a sigh. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Of course I am. You could’ve met up with one of the little old ladies from church planting those flowers at the cemetery. They’re sweet, but not exactly your type,” he added with a goofy grin.

  They both laughed, and Scott was struck by how good it felt to be joking around with his childhood friend again. They’d last seen each other a few weeks after graduation, promising to stay in touch after they went their separate ways. They hadn’t.

  Frowning, he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch. I wish—”

  “Don’t sweat it.” Heath waved off his apology with another grin. “Life happens to all of us.”

  It turned out Jenna had it right, he thought: when he gave them a chance, most people were more than ready to forgive him. “Yeah, it does. Thanks for understanding, though.”

  “No problem. Now, let’s get this thing put back together and see if all this knuckle bashing was worth it.”

  When they had finished reassembling the ancient engine, Scott noticed something glinting in the grass. He leaned down and picked up a stray nut and bolt, neatly threaded together. When he held them up, Heath glared at him and he glared back. “What? I didn’t drop ’em on purpose.”

  His buddy held out a grease-stained hand and after Scott gave the pieces to him, he scanned their work before dropping them into his pocket. “They’re extra.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No, but I figure this thing can’t run any worse now than it did before.”

  “Good point,” Scott agreed with a chuckle. “Let’s give it a shot.”

  Climbing in, he crossed his fingers and turned the key. With a little coaxing, the engine started and Heath adjusted the fuel and air combination so the truck settled into a throaty but steady rumble. Just to be safe, they tried it a couple more times with the same encouraging results.

  Heath leaned his arms on the open driver’s window. “Sounds better, but it could use some more TLC. I can come by again next Thursday, if you want.”

  “I hate to hog all your free time,” Scott protested.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I’ve got anything else going on these days.”

  Something flitted through his eyes, and Scott recognized it instantly: regret. He’d seen it frequently in his mirror, though not so much lately. Opening up to Jenna had seemed to chase away most of those shadows, and he thought maybe he could do the same for Heath. “Anything you wanna tell me?”

  Grimacing, Heath shook his head. “I appreciate you asking, though.”

  Scott knew better than to push him for more and got out of the truck to help Heath gather up his tools. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

  “Okay.” The somber look gave way to his usual aw-shucks grin. “I’m glad you came back, Scott. It’s nice to hang out with someone who knows not to hassle me about stuff.”

  He’d voiced exactly what Scott was thinking, and he grinned back as they walked toward Heath’s shiny pickup. “Same here. Not to mention I’ll be driving this truck for a while, so it’ll be handy to have a mechanic who doesn’t mind getting paid with Gram’s triple-berry pie.”

  “It’s like a wonder food,” he agreed as he climbed up into the cab and looked out the window at Scott. “It goes with everything.”

  “Sure does. Have a good one.”

  Lifting his hand in reply, Heath drove down the dirt lane and pulled onto the road that led back to town. Now that he was alone, Scott realized he’d been up since the crack of dawn and was feeling every hour of sleep he’d lost fretting over what to do about Jenna. With sunlight warming his yard and a nice breeze blowing through the boughs overhead, he stretched out at the foot of an ancient oak and promptly fell asleep.

  The sound of tires crunching on gravel roused him just enough to crack open one eye so he could see who was coming up the driveway. When he saw Jenna’s van, he smothered a grin and pretended to keep on snoozing. Her sneakers made barely a sound in the grass, but the telltale scent of her—paint thinner and something flowery—floated in on the breeze.

  It was uniquely her, and he knew that for the rest of his life when he smelled either of those two things, he’d think of the kindhearted artist who’d rescued him from himself.

  She paused beside him, and he could almost picture her folding her arms as she stared down at him, trying to decide if she should wake him or not. Suddenly, cold water and ice cubes rained down on him, and he bolted upright, sputtering and caught completely off guard.

  “What’re you doing?” He’d meant for it to come out as a growl, but there was more laughter in it than anything.

  “You’re not fooling anyone lying there like Boyd on a lazy day,” she informed him with a knowing smirk. “I saw you watching me.”

  Busted, he thought as he sluiced water from his hair with his hands and dried them on his jeans. “Think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”

  “Most of the time.”

  Quite honestly,
he had a sneaking suspicion she was smarter than he was. Not long ago, admitting that would have galled him, but for some reason with her, it turned out to be a pleasant surprise. One of the many she’d sprung on him, actually. “So, what’re you doing all the way out here?”

  “I was doing some touch-ups on the signage at the mill, so I thought I’d stop and see how things are coming along here.” Those summer-sky eyes drifted from the chapel to the house and then settled on him with a curious gleam. “Do you have time to show me around?”

  “Sure.” He always had time for a woman who brightened his days the way she did, but he decided to keep that very personal revelation to himself. They’d taken a few tentative steps toward each other, but he still wasn’t at all certain where things with Jenna might lead. For now, he was content to go along with the suggestion she’d made the other night and spend as much time with her as he could.

  “I finished up the chapel roof yesterday,” he explained, pointing to the new shingles that made the weathered old clapboards look even shabbier than they had before. “Next is paint and new shutters, both white.”

  “And you finished the steps,” she noted as they went up them into the small sanctuary.

  “Poured new footers and rebuilt ’em from scratch,” he commented with more than a little pride. “They oughta last another hundred years or so.”

  “Will would be so proud of you,” she approved, doing a slow circuit of the nearly completed interior. “I’m glad you went with hand-hewn boards on the walls. In a few years, they’ll age and look like the old ones did.”

  He’d ripped them himself over at the mill and carted them back in the old truck that had probably made the same trip countless times back in the day. Telling her that would sound like bragging, though, and that really wasn’t his style anymore. So he just smiled and thanked her.