A Father's Promise

by Mindy Obenhaus

  He studied the joists, in particular. While most appeared perfectly normal, other areas looked as though they’d suffered extensive water damage, making him wonder if there could have been a leak somewhere. Given the condition of the wood, it must have gone on for a long period of time. It was likely a slow leak no one had ever noticed because the wood soaked it up.

  As he continued his examination, he noted the mud-like coating following the grain of the wood. A sure sign of termites. He swept the area with his flashlight. Between the water leak and the termites, the integrity of the wood must have deteriorated significantly. And when you’ve got something as heavy as a cast-iron tub and a toilet full of water, well, it’s only a matter of time.

  The good news, if one wanted to call it that, was that repairs shouldn’t take more than a few weeks. No matter what, though, the first thing they had to do was get all of this water out of here so things could start drying out.

  “Wes?” Laurel’s voice echoed down the entry hall.

  He stepped off the ladder into a puddle and met her as she entered the room with Irma and two men. “Right here.”

  “Oh, good.” Motioning to the first man, she said, “This is Dwight Chastain, Irma’s insurance agent.”

  Wes couldn’t hide his surprise. “You got here quick.”

  The burly fellow with light brown hair and a goatee chuckled. “My office is only a couple of blocks away. And when there’s water involved, we certainly don’t want to waste any time.”

  “That’s for sure.” Wes eyed the other man clad in jeans, a chambray work shirt and a dirty ball cap.

  “Mason Krebbs.” Younger and leaner than the first guy, Mason held out his hand and Wes took hold. “I’m a local contractor.”

  “Mason was at the office when Laurel called,” said Dwight. “Thought it might be a good idea to bring him along. You know, get a contractor’s perspective.”

  “Actually, Wes is a construction manager,” Laurel was quick to point out, obviously unimpressed by Mason’s credentials. Slipping her hands into the pockets of her skinny jeans, she added, “He’s also Rae’s brother, and he’s been on top of things since we got here.”

  While Laurel remained beside a distressed Irma, the two men moved deeper into the room, scanning floor to ceiling.

  “Were you able to find anything?” Dwight craned his neck, eyeing the six-foot chasm overhead.

  “Yes, sir. There are definite signs of both water and termite damage.”

  Mason climbed the ladder to do his own investigation. “While I’m not necessarily one to disagree, Wes, termites and water damage don’t usually result in something this drastic. I mean, wouldn’t ol’ Irma have noticed some weak areas in the bathroom floor or seen water spots on the ceiling?”

  “I don’t recall any water spots,” said Irma. “And I’m in here all the time. I don’t usually go upstairs, though. Only if I’m going to have company, and then it’s only long enough to change out the sheets and the towels.”

  “From the looks of things, this has been going on for a prolonged period of time,” added Wes. “We’re talking years.”

  “Yeah, I can definitely see termite trails,” Mason conceded. “They sure made a mess of this old wood.” Stepping down, he addressed the agent. “The remaining wood will need to be treated for termites before new joists are added. Then the whole bathroom will likely need to be redone, the ceiling down here replaced and whatever damage was done by all this water fixed.” He motioned toward the floor. “May need some new Sheetrock, carpet... And if we don’t get this wood dried out right away—”

  “Hello?” A woman’s voice filtered down the hall.

  “That’s Christa.” Laurel hurried to the doorway and waved her friend in.

  Sporting jeans and a bright blue Bliss Hardware T-shirt, Christa stepped into the room. “Whoa. What a mess.” She hugged Irma. “I’m so glad you weren’t hurt.” Releasing the older woman, she took in the other faces. “Wes.” She nodded. “Dwight. Mason.” Her attention returned to Laurel. “I’ve got a shop vac in the truck, along with three air movers. And there are at least three other people who will also be dropping off shop vacs. The faster you can get things dried out—”

  “Her insurance will pay to bring in a water-removal company from the city.”

  Christa looked at Dwight very matter-of-factly. “That’s fine and dandy, but they’re not here now. And by the time they are, we could have most of this water squared away. The longer it sits, the more damage it’s going to do.”

  Wes found himself slightly amused by the exchange. “Like you said, Dwight, when there’s water involved, we don’t want to waste any time. However, we will need a dumpster of some sort, because once you’ve gathered whatever information you need—taken pictures and such—we’ll start emptying all of the impacted rooms, and we’re going to need someplace to put this debris.”

  “That’s right. And my guys and I could probably get started on the reconstruction in a week or so.” Mason appeared to study the situation. “Shouldn’t take us more than six weeks to get ’er done.”

  “Six weeks?” Wes, Laurel, Christa and Irma said collectively.

  Wes knew it wouldn’t take anywhere near that long. Especially with a crew. Sounded like Mason was just trying to pad his wallet by stretching things out.

  “Where on earth will I stay?” Irma’s bottom lip trembled.

  Wes hated that this guy was trying to take advantage of her. He wasn’t even sympathetic.

  “We could try for five,” Mason countered. “It’s hard to tell until you get going on things, though.” He smiled as if everything was just peachy. “I’ll drop off an estimate later.”

  The man had barely even assessed things.

  “Right now, though, I need to run. Can’t keep the little woman waiting.”

  No, but he sure didn’t have any problem making Irma wait.

  Mason touched the brim of his ball cap before strutting back down the hallway. “Howdy, Ms. Parsons.”

  “Mason, you’d better not be here to take advantage of my friend.”

  Laurel and Wes exchanged a look as a white-haired woman eased into the room with a large multicolored purse dangling from one elbow.

  She tsked several times as she took in the room. “This is quite a mess.”

  “It’s more than a mess, Joyce,” said Irma. “It’s horrible. They’re telling me I can’t stay here.”

  “Well, of course you can’t. Anyone can see that. So you may as well pack your bags.”

  “I don’t know where I’d go.” Irma continued to wring her hands.

  “I have three empty bedrooms. You just take your pick.”

  “Oh, that is so sweet of you, Joyce.”

  “No, it’s just one problem solved. Now—” the woman waved an arm “—what are you going to do about the rest of this?” Her gaze landed on Wes then, and narrowed. “Who are you?”

  He cleared his throat. This woman was more intimidating than most of his superiors in the navy. “Wes Bishop, ma’am.”

  She moved closer, not the least bit intimidated by the standing water. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  “No, ma’am. Rae Girard is my sister. I’m here to visit her.”

  “How come the two of you have different last names?”

  “Rae was married. Her ex-husband was a Girard.”

  She peered up at him through her bifocals. “I like Rae. And I like that you say ma’am. You have manners.”

  He found himself standing at attention. “Twenty years in the military will do that.”

  “What branch?”

  “Navy.”

  “My husband served in the navy.” Taking a step back, she continued to size him up. “I’m Joyce Parsons.” She smiled then. “You know I’m messing with you, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ok
ay, he may have fibbed a little on that one.

  “Good.” She looked at the others now. “So, what’s the plan, Dwight?”

  The man appeared more than a little nervous. “We’re going to get Irma fixed up just as quick as we can.”

  “And how quick is quick?” Hands clasped, Joyce waited.

  “Mason said six weeks.”

  “Mason doesn’t know his head from a hole in the ground,” she said. “He’s an opportunist.”

  Wes was liking Joyce more all the time. And he was certain that Mason’s bid would be ridiculously high. Yet while Wes was more than capable of handling the job himself, he was only in Bliss for three weeks. He might be able to do it, providing any subs he’d need—termite people, a plumber and flooring people—were available. Worst-case scenario, he could do the flooring himself, but a licensed plumber was a must. As was the termite treatment. And if any of these wood floors had to be refinished, that would take time Wes didn’t have.

  He looked at Irma again, his heart going out to the poor woman. Lord, what should I do? I’d hate to let her down.

  What if he wasn’t able to finish the job before it was time to leave? Then again, if the downstairs was complete, Irma could still move back in. And if he had folks lined up to handle those final details of plumbing and flooring, perhaps Laurel could oversee them.

  He caught Laurel’s eye. “Could I see you outside for a minute?”

  She nodded, then looked at the others. “Excuse us, please.”

  They moved down the hall, through the screen door, across the porch and onto the lawn before he said anything.

  “I want to help Irma.” He shoved a hand through his hair, eyeing the sprawling tree branches overhead. “I’m just not sure I can.”

  “Wes, you don’t have six weeks.”

  “No, but I have almost three. And the job shouldn’t take any more than that.” He looked her in the eye. “It just depends on how long it takes us to get things out of here and dry before the work can begin.”

  “I’ve already contacted the church. The pastor is out of town, but Roxanne, the church secretary, is lining up volunteers to help us move stuff right now. I told her I would oversee things.”

  Wes couldn’t help frowning. “Why would you do that? What about Sarah-Jane?”

  “Because Irma is my friend, and her kids all live out of state. Besides—” she lifted a shoulder “—she reminds me of my grandmother.”

  Given that Laurel had thought the world of her grandmother, that statement explained a lot.

  “As far as Sarah-Jane, I’ll figure it out. Rae’s keeping her for the rest of today, though.”

  He stared at the determined woman whose long hair was now pulled back into a ponytail. “You’re familiar with the area. Could you help me find a plumber and termite people?”

  “Sure. Brandt Hefley goes to my church. He’s a plumber. And he has a big heart. I have no doubt he’d be more than happy to help Irma.”

  “Good.”

  She watched him. “So, are you going to extend the offer?”

  He couldn’t help grinning. “Well, as my old buddy Eddie would say, some things are worth fighting for.” He nodded toward the house. “I can’t let that Mason fellow take advantage of her.”

  “Who’s Eddie?”

  “He was my boss in the navy, then I went to work for him again after I retired. He’s the reason I was in Vegas. But he also got me back into the church and become my spiritual mentor. He’s the one who recruited me for Servant’s Heart.”

  “Sounds like a very special friend.”

  “I’m blessed to know him.”

  Laurel’s expression softened, a smile teasing at her pretty lips. “Shall we go see what Irma thinks then?”

  He motioned toward the house. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Five

  Laurel had never ached so much in her entire life. Here she’d thought lugging a fourteen-month-old around was keeping her fit. She was obviously delusional, because removing everything from the impacted areas at Irma’s had taken its toll. The debris, furniture, books... It had taken a group effort to move that old cast-iron tub out to the front porch.

  God had provided them with lots of help, though. No fewer than ten people had chipped in throughout the day, helping them empty the affected rooms and move as much as they could into the parlor and dining room. Since water had leached into Irma’s bedroom, soaking the carpet, it had been lifted and the pad cut away. Wes had removed all of the baseboards so no water would be trapped. Then, with the aid of shop vacs, they’d managed to rid the place of any standing water. By the time the water-removal crew Dwight had insisted they call in arrived from the city, all they had to do was add a few more air movers to the mix to speed up the drying process.

  The only break they’d taken was when a group of women from the church brought them all King Ranch casserole and peach cobbler for dinner. Considering Wes and Laurel had skipped lunch, that meal was a welcome treat.

  Now, as Laurel sat in the cab of Wes’s pickup with a country music station playing low on the radio, she was almost too numb to think. All she wanted was to get home, hug her baby girl and crawl into bed. Then she recalled how her day had started—with Wes asking her to come to the café to discuss something. She still didn’t know what that something was. And while she was appreciative for all Wes had done today—his take-charge attitude and offering to do the repairs to Irma’s house—Laurel’s heart was weighted down by that one unknown. Because it could determine the course of her daughter’s future.

  The sun was low on the western horizon, shading the tree-lined streets of Bliss as they made their way back to Laurel’s where Rae waited with Sarah-Jane. Looking at Wes, Laurel couldn’t help noticing that he didn’t appear anywhere near as exhausted as she felt. Then again, he was probably used to this sort of stuff. Honestly, she was glad he’d been with her today. She might know how to organize a work crew, but she knew nothing about building.

  Knowing they were only minutes away from her house, she mustered her courage. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about this morning?”

  He shook his head and gave a slight smile. “So much has happened since then, I’d almost forgotten.”

  Great. While she couldn’t say she’d stressed all day, she had stressed. And yet he’d forgotten?

  “I guess it’ll have to wait now, but I wanted to get the information for your bank account so I can set up an automatic transfer. That way, money for Sarah-Jane will come to you every month and I won’t have to worry about missing a payment.”

  While she appreciated his commitment, “You couldn’t have asked me that over the phone?”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to put that kind information in a text.”

  “No, but you could have called.” Unless he was one of those people who hated talking on the phone.

  “Actually, in this world of identity theft and cybersecurity, I thought you might prefer to type in the info yourself. That’s why I had my laptop at the café.”

  She could see his point, but still. “This is exactly why texting isn’t necessarily the best means of communication. If you’d have just called and told me all of that, you could have saved me a lot of worry.”

  His brow creased. “Why were you worried?”

  “Because I thought—” Thankfully she caught herself before revealing the truth—that she was afraid he’d reject Sarah-Jane the way her father had rejected her. “I just was, that’s all.” They pulled up to her house then, and she hopped out before he could question her any further.

  Unfortunately, he followed her. Never mind that they’d spent almost the whole day together. Not that it was Laurel he wanted to be with. He wanted to see Sarah-Jane.

  She gave herself a stern shake. She was getting cranky. And after all Wes had done, he didn’t deserve to be the object of h
er ire.

  However, the moment she stepped through the back door and saw Sarah-Jane crawling toward her, her spirits lifted.

  “There’s my girl.” Lifting her daughter to her, she kissed her cheek. “I missed you so much.”

  “Laurel?”

  She turned to see Wes standing in front of the kitchen sink.

  “You might want to wash up first.”

  “Ew, yes, you’re right.” She held Sarah-Jane at arm’s length. “Here, Rae. There’s no telling what could be all over me.”

  Rae took hold of the child. “Were you able to accomplish much?”

  Laurel had contacted Rae earlier in the day, letting her know the initial assessment. “I think so.” She smiled at Sarah-Jane. “I’ll be right back, baby.” She joined Wes at the sink, his nearness making it difficult to think. He smelled like hard work and peaches, so she was grateful when he started filling his sister in.

  “I was impressed at how many people volunteered to help.” He soaped up his hands before scrubbing his forearms, a move Laurel mimicked over the adjoining bowl. “Not just to pitch in and help with the grunt work, but to bring food, bottled water, shop vacs. I’ve not seen that kind of generosity outside of the military.”

  “Only one of the reasons we love Bliss so much, right, Laurel?”

  “You know it, Rae.” She scrubbed her fingernails. “But even I was surprised. And I’m glad Wes was there. Especially when Mason Krebbs showed up.”

  “Looking for business, no doubt.” Rae stood near the table now. “He’s such a creep.”

  Wes shook the excess water off his hands before reaching for a towel. “I don’t care for people who try to take advantage of others’ misfortune.”

  Laurel ran her arm under the faucet to remove the soap. “It was obvious that Wes was far more knowledgeable than Mason.” Yet he didn’t demean Mason. Wes simply stated the facts, even when he had a bad feeling about the guy.

  “That’s because Wes has built more things in more places than Mason could even imagine.”