Love's Emerging Faith (Love's Texas Homecoming Book 3; First Street Church #20)

by Sharon Hughson

  Lonie laughed. The sound crawled over Bailey’s skin like a horde of locusts. A buried memory rose from the back of his mind.

  Pain seared through his back.

  “I told you to take the trash out, boy. Are you too stupid for that?”

  Bailey’s six-year-old frame shook from the agony of the lit joint pressed to his bare back. He’d been in the bathroom washing baby Tessa when his father slammed into the room and jerked him toward the kitchen. He couldn’t leave the baby in the water. She would drown!

  He’d been back in the kitchen in less than a minute, but by then his father’s rage burned as hot as the smoking weed.

  Bailey scrambled toward the paper bag. It seeped liquid on the scarred linoleum, wet from something his parents had discarded. His fingers fumbled to scoop up the bottom.

  The rancid scent of burnt sauce made him gag. That had been from his mother’s attempt to heat up a can of ravioli, but she’d been puffing on her pipe and ruined what had been one of his favorite foods. It hadn’t tasted much better than it smelled, but Bailey knew better than to complain. And if he hadn’t eaten it, he would have been hungry.

  A smack knocked his face into the soggy coffee grounds on the top of the bag. Bailey stumbled into the side of the door and struggled to keep his grip on the bag with one hand. He hadn’t thought of how he would open the door with his hands full.

  “Corine! Open the door for your stupid son!”

  Bailey flinched, waiting for another fist to find its way into his flesh.

  “He’s your son, too,” his mother hollered back, her voice coming closer.

  “Something so dumb couldn’t come from me.” His father puffed out his chest.

  “Look at him,” his mother demanded, coming out of the main living area. “His eyes and the color of his hair.” The scent of cat urine surrounded her. They didn’t have a cat, but that’s what his mother always smelled like.

  She jerked open the front door. A gust of air shoved the rotten garbage smell up Bailey’s nose. “He looks just like you.”

  “Well, he acts like you. Stupid.”

  Bailey slithered through the door, scraping his arm on the metal workings. He hardly felt the pain, what with the scorch mark throbbing on his back and the chill wind biting his shirtless torso.

  “I must be stupid to stay with a loser like you,” his mother snarled.

  Thankfully, the door slammed and spared Bailey from hearing the exchange of insults.

  Bailey blinked back into the present, shaking his head. Lord help, he would not stoop to this man’s level. He slid one booted foot toward the doorway.

  “I’m sure you think you can take me, boy.” Lonie reached toward his boot and pulled out a hunting knife easily as long as his forearm. “I’ll be here to console Tessie when they find your bloody body.”

  Bailey stopped. The ice in the dark eyes meant business. He knew that merciless expression. Years in prison had probably given Lonie plenty of experience in self-defense.

  “I’ve got places to be.”

  “Your sister was cleaning up.” Lonie grinned, rotating the knife so light glinted off the blade.

  Bailey sucked in a breath. Saddle oil and a hint of horse filled his nostrils.

  “She said she’d be ready in a few minutes.”

  “I need to clean up, too.”

  “Don’t let me keep you.” But he made no move to clear out of the doorway.

  Bailey clutched the curry comb, considering it as a projectile. He could bean the vile face, but the knife would still be there.

  “Do we understand each other?”

  Baily nodded. “You’re going to play Papa with Tess until I give you incentive to head out.”

  “I’ve charmed smarter women.” He snorted. “Not that your mama was one of them.”

  The metal brush gouged deeper until Bailey relaxed his grip.

  Lord, I really want to lay him out. Make him move out of my way before I lose control.

  “Aren’t you supposed to get a job?”

  “I’ve got several lined up. And I’ll be doing some junk hauling tomorrow.” Lonie held his gaze again, then slid the knife back into the cover hidden beneath the denim. “I better let you go get some of that chocolate pie.” His leer raised Bailey’s blood pressure, but then the slime ball oozed away as quickly as he’d appeared.

  Bailey stared at the ceiling, listening until the creak of the sliding doors told him the man was truly gone. His breath hissed out in rushed exhales. He paced to the shelf and placed the comb where it belonged. A moment staring at the grooves in his palm from the death grip on the tool helped him steady his breathing.

  “Thank you, Lord.” His whisper seemed to echo through the saddles, blankets, and bridles.

  Fritz taught him to fight as a final measure and that some principles had to be proven with violence. MaryAnn showed him that prayer almost always delivered a person from the fight. God could cool your temper or move your opponent out of range. He’d done the second today.

  “If you could erase the flashbacks, that’d be even better.”

  But Bailey knew it would be an unanswered plea. Sure, the nightmares hadn’t lasted after the first year on the ranch, but there were always things that would trigger those shadowy childhood years.

  They’re part of you. They made you the man you are as surely as working this ranch has. Fritz’s reassurances didn’t make the shame disappear. Just like he bore the scars of Lonie’s abuse on his flesh, his soul bore them even deeper.

  A nicker woke Bailey from his stupor. He trudged back to the stall and scratched behind the ears tilted toward him. “I’ll have to brush you later, boy. I’ve got a date.”

  The soft nose dipped toward Bailey’s pockets.

  “I’ll bring you more carrots then.”

  Shamgar snorted and stomped a foot almost like he understood.

  If anyone could, it would be an animal that had been just as mistreated before coming to the ranch.

  And maybe big-hearted Jaz, who shared her brother’s passion for helping the underdogs.

  And me, whispered the One who had answered his plea only moments before.

  For once, Bailey wasn’t facing the bully alone.

  * * *

  The scent of chili powder and sweetness embraced Jaz as she darted into her parents’ house. She hadn’t meant to leave her mother alone all day. “Mom?”

  “Kitchen.” The sing-song quality that had been missing for weeks rang in the lilting call coming from Jaz’s left.

  She dropped her bag on the counter. A quick glance showed her that no matter what her nose said about the state of dinner, the table still wasn’t set.

  Her mother stood at the sink, wrists buried in soapy water.

  “Sorry to desert you.”

  Mom’s smile lit up the room. “Tabitha stopped by.” She pointed her elbow to a square dish sitting on the stovetop.

  Jaz pecked her mother’s cheek and leaned over the stove. Cinnamon battled with the other delicious scents. “Peach cobbler?”

  “It is Bailey’s favorite.”

  The man had a sweet tooth that wouldn’t quit, and her mother catered to it whenever he shared a meal at their house.

  “You and Tess spoil him.”

  “You’ve already got his heart, so I’ll settle for his stomach.” Mom chuckled at her own joke.

  Jaz slid beside her mother and scrubbed her hands. “He’s moving back, you know.”

  “Oh? Right when you’re heading back to Austin.” Her mother’s perfect lips curved down.

  “Let me finish this and set the table. Dad should be home soon.” Jaz didn’t want to think about returning to a long-distance relationship with Bailey.

  Mom pulled a hand towel free from the stove’s handle and kissed Jaz’s cheek. “You’re a wonderful blessing.”

  Jaz didn’t feel like a blessing. More like a spilled box of spaghetti. What had changed?

  Although the past six weeks had been a misery in man
y ways, she’d managed to come to terms with her relationship with her father. As much as she enjoyed the group of younger Christians in Austin, she’d found spiritual peace at First Street Church. Her friendships with Elise, Kristina, and Tess added a hometown feeling, too.

  The buzz of the garage door opening pulled her back to the tasks at hand. She dried her hands before pulling five deep bowls out of the cupboard.

  “Something smells delicious.” Her father’s voice carried down the hallway from the laundry room.

  “Chili and cornbread,” her mother replied.

  The words cut off abruptly, and Jaz shook her head. It used to hurt to see the love and adoration her father had for her mother because he had none to offer Jaz. Having Bailey look at her with love helped, but Jaz knew her father was proud of her in his own way.

  Jaz hurried to the oven and cracked open the door. Sweetly scented hot air washed over her. Yellow batter rose evenly in the rectangle baking dish.

  The doorbell chimed, and a knock sounded an instant before Tess called, “We’re here!”

  Jaz let the oven door fall shut as she skipped to the entryway. Tess met her at the kitchen entrance, but Bailey stood on the stoop, a frown marring his good looks. “The point of ringing the bell—”

  “She was expecting us.” Tess hugged her quickly and shot a rolled-eye grimace toward her brother. “We’re practically family. Family doesn’t ring the bell.”

  Jaz waggled her finger in a “come here” motion. Bailey swept his hat off. Something in his eyes told her his frown was about more than his sister’s breach of etiquette.

  She rose on her tiptoes to peck his cheek. “Hey, cowboy. How about a smile for your best girl?”

  His lips tightened, tilting in a poor excuse for a grin.

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “I’ll take your hat and coat.”

  Tess reappeared, holding her jacket. “On your bed?”

  Jaz nodded and Tess whisked the items a few steps down the hall. At the end of the hallway, the master bedroom door opened, and her mother strolled out, fingers laced with her father’s. He walked a step behind her, clad in jeans and a sweatshirt.

  “Welcome, Bailey.” She stopped to hug Tess, who emerged with empty hands from Jaz’s room. “Tessa.”

  Jaz reached for Bailey’s hand, but he’d turned to shut the door, taking an unusually long time to secure it. What was wrong? Something must have happened with Lonie.

  Tess bubbled about the guest ranch being booked solid from Thanksgiving through the first weekend of January. Jaz finished setting the table, with bread plates beside each bowl and butter, jam, and honey for the cornbread.

  Her mother stirred the chili in the slow cooker. Jaz’s stomach growled but with less force than before. What had upset Bailey?

  Her father pulled out a chair for Mom and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Tess jabbed Bailey with an elbow, and he quickly pulled out the chair to the right of Mom while Tess rounded the table to sit beside Ronald Rolle.

  “How close is the hospital to Bailey’s new office?” Tess asked as she scooted her chair in.

  Jaz caught the faint scent of horse as she brushed past Bailey to her seat. “Thanks, cowboy.”

  Bailey nodded and sat at the foot of the table opposite Mom. The Rolles had fallen into this seating pattern while her mother was in a wheelchair for three weeks.

  Her father caught her eye. “I didn’t know Bailey’s office was moving to Rosewood.” He placed his hand palm up on the table and her mother slipped hers in it. “Let’s pray.”

  It was a brief prayer, and Jaz stood to serve the chili from the pot in the center of the table while her mother placed generous slabs of cornbread on each plate. Conversation fell into an easy pattern—compliments on the food to Geraldine.

  “Oh, it’s my grandmother’s recipe,” about both dishes. And, “Jaz started the chili this morning.”

  “Tell me about this office in Rosewood.” Her father turned his hazel gaze on Bailey, who had his head down and was methodically spooning chili in his mouth.

  After a moment, Bailey looked up. “Clarkson is opening a branch. We have a big contract to repurpose the strip mall on Eastside into an open concept marketplace.”

  “Interesting. Where’s the office located?” Her father fingered his cornbread, preparing to take a bite while Bailey answered.

  “It’s a small building located on Branch and Southwest 73rd.” Bailey slathered his cornbread in butter.

  Her father mentioned a friend who lived out near the 80th block of Branch Street, including her mother in the conversation. Jaz listened, spending her glances on Tess who savored each crumb of cornbread and Bailey whose wide shoulders seemed unnaturally tense.

  “So you’ll be back in Sweet Grove?” Her father reached for another slice of cornbread.

  “Yep. Staying at the ranch for the moment.”

  “Sounds like you’ll have to bunk elsewhere in a few weeks.” Mom smiled. “I’m so pleased to hear the resort is doing well.”

  “It’s picking up. Mostly thanks to my investor.” Tess’s cheeks pinked, and she stirred her chili.

  “And you’re heading back to Austin on Sunday?” Her father glanced at her.

  Jaz nodded. “I’m working on something, though, and I might want to pick your brain.”

  His bushy eyebrows shot toward his slicked-back brown hair. He wasn’t used to her seeking out his advice.

  “I’ll miss you.” Her mother squeezed her elbow.

  “She’ll be back.” Tess elbowed Bailey. “To see me.”

  Bailey shook his head. “Me, you mean.”

  “I don’t think so.” Tess cocked an eyebrow. “And if you argue with me, I’ll eat all the peach cobbler.”

  Bailey straightened, a twinkle lighting his eye. “There’s peach cobbler?”

  “Tabitha helped me make it.” Her mother shook her head. “I fear she’s going to expect me to visit First Street Church.”

  “She’s not like that.” Tess smiled. “She has a servant’s heart. She says she loves helping me strip and make beds, but that’s crazy, right?”

  The women laughed, but Jaz’s gaze drifted to Bailey. He reached for the honey, and she slid it closer to him, hoping to catch his eye.

  He dipped his chin in thanks but didn’t meet her gaze.

  Finally, dessert was served, and Tess was claiming dish duty. “You two pair of lovebirds go on now. Take a walk or something.”

  Jaz steered Bailey toward her room. She shrugged into a sweatshirt and coat and snagged his coat and hat. “You heard the boss,” she said as she handed him the items.

  “She’s not the boss of me,” he hollered into the kitchen.

  “I am if you want biscuits and gravy on Sunday,” Tess called back.

  Jaz grinned when Bailey’s mouth twitched. She loved the way they interacted.

  Outside, they strolled toward the road, hand-in-hand. Jaz inhaled the crisp night air, smelling the sage and tasting the dust—so different from the city smells of Austin.

  “So, what happened with Lonie?”

  A few steps later, Bailey answered. “He threatened me. He wants money.”

  Jaz snorted. “Don’t we all.” She could build the perfect haven for foster siblings if she had money. Instead, she’d be returning to an uninspiring job in Austin.

  “I told him we didn’t have any. He mentioned the antiques MaryAnn collected.”

  “Are they really so valuable?”

  Bailey shrugged. “No idea. But she does have some jewelry and crystal heirlooms. Not that he’s getting anything.”

  “Of course not.”

  Gravel crunched beneath their feet as they circled beyond the end of the subdivision. Silence stretched in the absence of droning insects.

  After several minutes, Jaz pulled Bailey to a stop near a cluster of fruit trees. She wove the fingers of her free hand over his other hand and looked up into his face. Light from the street they’d left cast him in shadow so she could barely mak
e out his profile. “What else is bothering you?”

  Bailey stared down at her, and she wished she could read his eyes.

  “I’m not a scrawny orphan anymore.”

  Jaz flinched at his words, squinting to see if he was joking. “Who says you are?”

  He answered with the barest whisper, “You.”

  A dog barked from somewhere nearby, and another answered from further away. Jaz pressed her lips together to keep from blurting out a denial, cataloging everything she’d said to Bailey that day. “Does this have something to do with Kenton? That orphan I found?”

  “You saw me when you looked at him. I haven’t been that skinny eight-year-old for decades. But you and Lonie can’t see that.”

  “He’s nine,” she said, and the words died on her lips. She and Lonie? He was comparing her with a creepy convict?

  Jaz pulled her hands free. “Now I’m like Lonie, huh? Well, good thing I’m heading back to Austin. You can get rid of me without any sort of payoff.” The chili bubbled and burned at her throat. She would not throw up although she’d barf long before she gave in to her burning nose and eyes.

  Bailey stepped forward and grabbed her hand. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “That’s what you said.”

  He growled, “I said you can’t seem to look past my past. I’m not a scrawny orphan, Jaz.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “Then why do you look at one and think of me?”

  “Because you were one!” Jaz tried to snatch her hand from his, but he tightened his grip. “And if I could have helped you then, I would have.”

  “Is that all I am? Someone you can save?”

  Jaz stomped on his foot, but he barely flinched. Stupid cowboy boots! “I love you. I’m dreading going back to Austin because I don’t want to be away from you. And you think—”

  He stepped into her and pulled her against his chest. The brim of his hat collided with her skull a nanosecond before his mouth covered hers. It was a fierce kiss, hot and possessive.

  Jaz bristled for an instant before melting into his masculine embrace. Her arms found his neck, and warm hands settled against her lower back. Bailey’s insistence cooled to an apologetic plea. The night sounds became the thudding of her heart and his indrawn breath.