Page 36 of A Twist of Faith
“Mama and me has—” He started over. “Mama and I have written letters to the state about fixing this road, but nobody’s done nothing.” He took a deep breath. “I mean no one has done anything.” He pulled the truck up to his Mama’s barn and turned to face Dee, arm stretched along the back of the seat almost touching her shoulder. “Be careful, alright?”
He held her gaze and a wordless connection joined them together. No accents. No corrections—and for the first time in a very long time, she embraced the attraction. The shared understanding.
Quivering inside, she bathed in the sweetness of this unfamiliar tenderness. “Thank you.”
His hand moved ever so slightly and she thought he might touch her. Her breath stopped. His fingers flexed then fisted and he moved his hand back to the wheel, jaw tight. “Well Doc, let’s see what you think about this car.”
The car was perfect.Silver and small. Classy. Everything she wanted. She kept circling it, her fingers aching to take it for a drive, which she did once Reese found the keys in somejunk drawerin his mama’s barn where the car stayed parked. She tried to curb the excitement, but when he placed the keys in her hand, she danced a little jig right in the middle of the barn. She was woefully out of practice with happy dances.
Reese’s grin twitched up on one side, the grin that did strange things to her heart. It had become increasingly easier to let her guard down with him—with all of his family. Their friendliness and open acceptance etched away at her guardedness and suspicion. Like opening a rusty door in her soul, she gave into the trust. Trust never came without a price tag of some sort, not in her history. The Mitchells enticed her to believe in family—a real family—and trust, but at what cost?
She test drove the Honda to town, even joined the Mitchells for some leftover meatloaf. Brandon shared his brownie with her, complete with leaving a trail of chocolate on her blouse. Mama Mitchell told a few humorous stories about Reese and Trigg as boys, leaving Reese a little red-faced. The entire process, from car keys to dessert, carried a strange cathartic quality. Even with all of her Dad’s support and guidance, she’d never known the authentic kindness and care of the Mitchells.
She smiled up at the starry sky on her walk to her house after dinner. Millions of stars blanketed the inky night canvas, their twinkles more brilliant in the middle of the country. No competing lights. An awe stilled her and for a brief moment she wondered if God watched, if maybe … just maybe, he smiled at her. Could He really care for something as simple and practical as a silver Honda? The Mitchells thought so. They believed God worked in everything, the big and the small.
Reese insisted on walking her home, with Brandon up on his shoulders. Lou held her hand, to “keep her from getting lost”. She swung their braided hands back and forth, matching the pace of their steps. The sweetness of it poured over deep-set wounds in Dee’s heart, offering something she’d believed to broken for her future to possess.
The stars and the company called her to reconsider so many things—about family, about faith—and another dream she’d long since discarded.
Motherhood.
Her idea of motherhood lay marred under years of neglect and manipulation, but Rainey and Ma Mitchell proved not all families matched her history. The hidden shame of her mother’s alcoholism and erratic behavior kept Dee close to home during her childhood, and the possibilities of making the same mistakes killed any of those little girl wishes. The daydream of wrapping her own children in her arms fell to ashes and one goal replaced all others: Charlottesville.
But motherhood?
Haus ran to greet them as they came into the light of the porch and Lou reached out to take him into her arms.
“I think Haus is gettin’ fatter, Daddy.” Lou grinned up at them, her eyes sparkling in the porchlight.
“Well, if Dee’s been givin’ him any of Granny’s leftovers, I’d imagine he’s enjoyin’ them.”
Reese winked at Dee and she turned away, pretending not to notice. Now if she could pretend away the heat waving over her skin it might not burst to fire-engine red on her face. Attraction or not, she still needed a hint of composure. Lack of control was her mother’s trademark.
“He smells good too, Daddy.”
A fresh rush of warmth invaded Dee’s cheeks for a new reason. What if they discovered she’d actually shampooed the stinky dog?
“Thank you for walking me home.” Dee placed her hand on Lou’s head. “Can you find your way back in the dark?”
“Ain’t no trouble. I’ve walked it for a long time.” The way she drew out the wordlongmade it seem a whole lot longer than her seven years.
“Well, then I won’t worry about you.” She turned to Reese and focused on Brandon instead of the handsome face staring down at her. “Good night, little one.”
He waved a chubby arm at her and even added aNight, Dee.
Dee backed away, distancing herself from them, her head and heart vying for a solid landing. Her gaze flitted to Reese. He cared about her. From his tender look to the tilt in his smile, there was no mistake. Oh, how she could bathe in that look for years! “Thank you.”
“Sweet dreams, Dee.”
Her smile wobbled into place and she turned, barely making it inside. Memories, regret, and anger poured out with her tears. It would be so easy to let go. So easy to trust her heart to the hope Reese offered, but trusting always disappointed—or ripped a scar so deep she couldn’t recover.
Trusting her mother. Trusting her father. Trusting God?
It meant the ultimate sacrifice—her plans, her control.
Was she willing to pay whatever price Reese cost, or worse, whatever price his God demanded of her?
Chapter 8
