Page 1 of Loving Decker

Chapter One

Faith Haws sat in her living room and listened to some rather fast talking. The man trying to get her to sell her land looked like her old friend from high school; every now and then Randall even acted like his old self. But for the most part, she really didn’t recognize this person with the sales pitch and the fancy big numbers.

A big developer had been smart to hire a local favorite, Randall McKinney, to try and get a bunch of land sales and signatures by month’s end. But suddenly his old friends had become an agenda item for him. She tried to cut him off at the first break in conversation. “Thanks for all that information, Randall. I appreciate you getting me in on the first wave.” Whatever that meant. He was acting like if she signed now, she’d make more than if she signed after everyone else had agreed to develop the area.

“Faith, we have history. This is about friendship. I’m here for you. You know that.” He flipped open to the last page. “Just a signature here, and I’ll take care of the rest. This solves a lot of tough decisions for you right now.” His eyes spoke of caring. His voice sounded sincere. And she knew it was a great opportunity, financially.

“Thank you, Randall. Leave the papers. You can’t make a decision like this overnight.”

He nodded, his eyes kind but also hungry, and it was that tiny glint that made her hesitate. His arm draped across her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze as they walked through her tiny living room to the front door. “I understand. There’s still a window to take hold of this opportunity. I’ll give you a call later this week. Once you sleep on it, if everything becomes clear, feel free to call me in the morning.”

Her heart clenched. But she stepped forward, gently dislodging his friendly gesture, and opened her front door. “Thank you again. I appreciate you getting me in on this good deal.” It was a godsend financially. She had to see it as that, didn’t she? A blessing straight from heaven? How else could she pay for all the mountains of bills from the hospital?

Some of his words repeated in her mind as she watched him walk away. “If you sign, the others will follow. Everyone.” He had tossed a packet on the table. “The Marshalls. The Hancocks. The Bellistons.” He placed the larger stack on top of the ones he’d thrown. “Every family here said they’re only signing if the Haws sign.” What he didn’t say was that the Dawsons would never sign.

She thought of their family, of Decker Dawson’s open and easy grin, of all the good they’d done for Willow Creek over the years. Mayor Dawson had been a leading influence for good for almost a decade. She suspected if he were still alive, this conversation would not be happening with any of them. Many had called him the father of Willow Creek. His son Decker… She sighed and closed the door behind Randall. Decker had been her crush—no, more than that—he was the man she compared all others to, the person she’d wanted to marry since he’d taken her to the Junior Prom as friends.

They’d always been just friends. He teased, bumped shoulders, high-fived her to death, but never anything more. The only thing tender she’d ever seen from him was the day he showed up on her porch right after her father had been admitted to the hospital for his first stroke. His strong arms had held her while she cried. And she’d hoped at that moment he would never let go.

As she fell into her father’s favorite armchair in the front room, the weight of all of Willow Creek suddenly shifting onto her shoulders, she felt almost too tired to pray. Almost.

With a heaviness that should have been reserved for someone much older, she lowered herself to the floor, rested her wrists on the seat of the chair and opened her heart to God.

What am I gonna do?

That was the essence of her prayer. But the response was surprising.

The words from her morning Bible study came to her mind.His hand is stretched out still.

Her eyes blurred, and she rested her head on the seat. Great warmth washed through her with such a strength of love that she wished it would never leave. She basked in it, allowing the comfort to wash over her, taking away for a moment the worry, the angst about the decisions she had to make. The ones in her mind right then had nothing to do with selling or not selling. They had to do with her grandpa. And she knew she had to head to the hospital.

Reluctantly leaving the sacred bubble of love in her prayer, she stood, but the feelings remained. So with a trembling smile, she wiped her eyes, splashed water on her face, and grabbed her purse and keys.

Grandpa had had a series of strokes, one after the other, until this last one left him mostly incoherent. There were times when she knew he saw her, his eyes smiling back understanding and love. Then they would glaze over, and she knew he was gone. But perhaps he could still hear her.

This morning she knew she had to talk to him.

The nurses smiled as she made her way to Grandpa’s room. The blinds were up, and beautiful sunlight streamed in through the windows on the far wall.

Grandpa looked restful. The monitors beeped quietly, the comforting evidence of his vitals. And the room felt warm, the cozy kind of warm.

Faith had become used to the feel of a hospital room. It was scary at first. She used to wrinkle her nose at the smell. But she’d come to realize that sacred things happened in hospitals too. And she was looking for that today.

“Hey there, Grandpa.”

She imagined she heard his response and saw his twinkly smile. “How’s my Faith-girl?” His hand would reach out to hers, and she would run to his side, grasping it in both of hers.

The lack of visible response from Grandpa did not deter her.

She sat at his side and pulled his free hand, the one not attached to an IV, into her own. “Grandpa, it’s good to see you.”

His breathing continued as before. She had no indication that he was hearing her at all. But she pressed on; something urged her to speak. “The cows are up in the north pasture. They’re about to be brought down. Hawkins thought the grass was greener and sweeter down in the valley, so he’s bringing them down with his own herd. The hay is growing and the air is sweet. Did you ever notice how sweet the air is? There’s nothing in the world like the smells in Willow Creek. The soil right after it has been turned.” She smiled. She could almost smell the rich earthy aroma. “That’s one of my favorites.”

His hand twitched.

She gulped. And kept talking. “But this new sweetness. It’s something I never noticed before. It’s like sugar. And it fills the air. Who knew that hay was sweet.” She laughed. “Until you breathe too deeply when the wind shifts, and the horse barn gets you.”

His hand twitched again.

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