The Carpenter's Daughter (15 page)

Poetry? Definitely an English major. No wonder he couldn’t do angles. They were real, not imaginary. Concrete, not abstract.

I stared at him.

“Come on.” He grinned, looking back to the road. “You haven’t ever looked at a sky like that and thought,
Wow. That’s amazing. Where did it come from?
”

“No.” Did I have to be so sharp? “I’ve seen the stars and thought,
It’s night. Time to go to bed, because I have work to do in the morning
.”

The joy in his laugh tempted a small smile to my lips.

“Sleep does do wonders.”

He paused, and I wondered if he was aligning an argument for Jesus in the silence. That little smile of mine left. Reaching across the cab, his hand warmed my shoulder and then squeezed. “You’re awfully uptight about this, Sapphira.”

“I don’t see the point in pretending a jolly old man in some alternate universe is my best friend. Religion isn’t for my kind of people.”

“Who are your kind of people?”

How come his side of the discussion sounded so calm, when mine was edgy and defensive?

“The kind that do real work.” I huffed. My brain caught up after the words had already left my mouth.

Jesse laughed. “Oh, I see.”

The starlit night afforded enough light for me to catch his wink. My face caught on fire.

I. Am. Dumb.

The tires seemed to agree. For the final three miles into Minden, they thumped out a mantra that sounded suspiciously like
you are dumb, you are dumb…

This was what I got for lying to my dad, sneaking out of town with a guy I knew he wouldn’t approve of, and asking another guy—one he might approve of, except for the being a Jesus freak part—for a ride home. No more going out. Ever. I’d stay in my safe world and stick to being the carpenter’s daughter. That was what I was. That was all I knew.

Red flashing lights lit up the dark road ahead, and a train horn blared into the quiet countryside. Jesse eased on the brakes as we approached the railroad crossing. The tires quit mocking my idiocy, and the stillness in the cab began needling my eardrums. Stuck at a crossing—could be at least five minutes, swimming in my awkwardness with Jesse sitting nearby to watch.

“Hey, Sapphira?” He shifted the truck into park and moved so that he could face me. “I’m sorry you had a bad night.”

I’d smacked him with insults, and he threw me a life vest. My eyes burned as I mashed my lips together.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I’ve already shown you enough of my stupidity.” Again, my mouth went on autopilot. For not knowing how to talk to people, I was overachieving in this conversation.

“Stupid?” His hand grazed my chin and lifted so that I would face him. “So not true. What happened?”

The warmth of his fingers fell away. I wanted to unbuckle, slide over, and curl up against him. “I went out with a guy even though I knew he was on the rebound. His ex-girlfriend was there, and three’s a crowd, so…”

Jesse’s soft breath came and went in a steady rhythm. I squeezed my eyes shut, cutting off the moisture building in them. I’d wanted a roller-coaster ride, hadn’t I?

“Hey.” His hand caught mine. “You’re not the stupid one.”

Another train horn ripped the air, and I actually jumped a little. Red lights faded into quiet blackness, and the crossing guard lifted, leaving a clear road ahead. My truck sat in the parking lot across the tracks. Reality ahead. Proceed with caution.

“That’s me.” I pointed to The Crossing to the left of the highway. “I’ll be good from there, if you’ll just drop me off.”

His hand still holding mine, he squeezed and then let go.

Come back.

Turning square to the steering wheel, Jesse shifted back into drive, and within a minute we pulled up next to my truck.

“Is this a bar?”

Uh-oh. How did Jesus freaks feel about a bar? I found myself pricked with a desire to bait him. I straightened my shoulders. “Yep. Want to come in?”

“Not tonight. Thanks, though.” Nothing changed in his voice.

I thought I’d hear disappointment. Or rebuke. Something that would confirm that he wasn’t my kind of people. He parked and cut the engine, and I popped my door open and slid from the cab. Surprise kind of tickled my tummy when he met me beside the door of my truck.

“We could use your skills this weekend.” He leaned against the truck bed, kicking his feet out as if we were chatting like old buddies.

“What are you working on?”

“A renovation this time. It’ll be a longer job. Haven’t even started the demo.” His shoe scuffed against the gravel as he poked his hands into his pockets. “Mack told me to make sure you come. We really do need you.”

Mack told him? Somehow that was deflating. Crossing my arms, I hugged my middle, wondering when I’d acquired so many mysterious—and annoying—emotions. “I don’t know…”

“Please?”

Whoa. Something strong backed that one word, and suddenly I was locked in his gaze. I took a tiny step toward him, and he pushed off the side of my truck, his hands pulling away from his pockets. My heart throbbed as he moved closer.

Light suddenly passed over the both of us as a truck swerved into the lot. Jesse looked away, and his hands slid back into his jeans. What just happened? Did I only imagine the heat in his eyes?

“Sarah.” My dad’s voice barked from the other side of my truck. A door slammed shut, and the sound of boots slapping against rocks moved closer. “What are you doing?”

Jesse turned, and I looked around him.

Yep. There was my dad. Scowling at Jesse.

“Who is this?”

“Jesse Chapman.” He reached across the dim night air to shake my dad’s hand.

Dad glared and then stepped around him. “Don’t you know how to use a phone, girl?”

“What?” If there was a god, could he just zap me with lightning? Now?

“Past midnight, and I haven’t heard from you since you left work.” He crossed his arms and stopped right next to me.

I squared to him, crossing my own arms. “Didn’t know I still had a curfew.”

“Watch it, girl.”

Jesse cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, sir.” He stepped forward, almost inserting himself between us. “I met Sarah at a Homes For Hope project, and I was in the Kearney area. We were just hanging out. I’m not from around here, and I don’t know anyone, so…”

Jesse Chapman, the religious nut, was lying for me?

Dad’s glare moved from me to Jesse and then back again. “This is why you keep going to work for Homes For Hope?”

Enough. “I’m all grown up, Dad.” I punched a hand into my jeans pocket to grab my keys. Spinning toward my truck’s door, I caught Jesse’s eye. “Thanks, Jesse. Text me directions, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” I climbed into the vehicle and reached for the door. Jesse beat me, shutting it calmly. Maybe a good thing—I’d planned on slamming it.

“Real men show up at the door, boy.” My dad’s voice caught me before I coaxed the engine to life. “They don’t slink off into the night with some other man’s daughter like they’ve got something to hide.”

I swallowed, glaring at my dad. His dark gaze caught me and held. I shook my head and started the truck.

Jesse Chapman, a guy way out of my class, had just been gnawed on by a guy who was also countless stories beneath him. I doubted he’d text me at all. Which meant I’d never get to see those kind green eyes again.

Jesse

Ice would have been warm compared to Mr. Sharpe’s glare.

“Yes, sir.” I was twenty-six, right? Why did I feel like a sixteen-year-old caught making out under a stairwell? Not that I’d ever done that kind of thing. “It wasn’t a date kind of thing.” My face seared. I wished it had been a date kind of thing.

Mr. Sharpe’s scowl deepened. “Don’t know where you came from or who you are.” He stepped forward, and I could smell chaw on his breath. “Sarah’s the innocent type though. And I know the roughneck type. I also have connections that would drop your jaw—so keep yourself to yourself.”

Right. How brave did I feel? “I’m not your typical construction worker, sir.” Pretty brave, apparently.

“She’s not your typical girl.”

Right again. Which was probably why this fascination with her wouldn’t leave me alone. “No, sir.”

What next? My spirit cringed thinking that he believed me to be that kind of guy. Any father would though, right? Daughter out late into the night, no word before she left, then showed up at the bar with some strange man who hadn’t bothered to introduce himself? Not a good first impression.

Was it pride or something else that made me really, really wish for a second chance at a better first impression?

Pride. And something else.

“Get out of here.” Mr. Sharpe stomped away.

Clearly he’d been boss for a while. A man used to being obeyed.

So I did. Not because I was a coward. Because I wanted to give him some reason to give me another chance.

And because I was a little bit of a coward. I preferred
nonconfrontational
.

I walked to the driver’s side of my truck and climbed in. The road stretched an hour in front of me, and my alarm was set for five thirty in the a.m. Could be a long week. Unless Sapphira actually showed up. Then it could be a good week.

The Road Runner’s iconic
meep-meep
cut through the silence in my truck. My text sound. After I slid my keys into the ignition, I snagged my cell off the dashboard. One new text.
Please be Sapphira.

Sapphira. Tapping the text app, I grinned. Some things had to get worse before they get better. That was what my dad always said.

Sapphira:
This whole night was a train wreck. Sorry I dragged you into it.

Me:
Drag on. I can take it.

Sapphira: …nothing.

She knew I was teasing her, right?

Me:
Are you smiling?

Sapphira:
Why are you worried about me smiling again?

Me:
It’s good for me.

Hold up
.
It’s good for you.
That was what I meant—smiling was good for her. Well, and me.

Sapphira: …nothing. Again.

She didn’t know what to do with me. By the looks of things, her life was a little confusing. I should have probably saved the teasing for face-to-face conversations.

Me:
Will I see you tomorrow?

I stared at the screen. “Please…” Talking to your phone when no one else was actually listening was normal. “Answer, Sapphira. Don’t crawl back into your cave.”

Sapphira:
Send me directions.

That’d be a yes. I chuckled as I typed the house address.

Sapphira:
What time?

Me:
I’m starting at six. You up for that?

Again with the teasing. I couldn’t stop myself.

Me:
Teasing. Don’t get up that early. Mack wants you to make recommendations for the rebuild. You have a CAD program, right?

Sapphira:
Yeah.

Me:
Mobile?

Sapphira:
Yeah.

Me:
Good. Mack will do a dance.

Huge exaggeration. Mack would grunt, point at the project, and tell her to get to work.

Me:
See you in the morning, Sapphira.

She didn’t respond. I kept smiling anyway as I shifted into reverse and left the bar. Ten miles down the road, I realized I was still grinning, and without looking, knew it was the stupid I’ve-got-a-crush kind.

That was a problem.

Sarah

“Get out here, Sarah,” Dad demanded from the front room as soon as the door slammed.

What was the deal with him these days? He’d gone grumpy-control-freak on me. Where’d the guy I’d grown up with go?

I tugged a hoodie over my tank top and adjusted the waist on my gym shorts. Much more comfortable. And me.

“Sarah!”

Snatching the knob on my bedroom door, I growled. “I’m coming.”

Dad waited, arms crossed over his chest, in the tiny living room. Grumpy was a nice word. He looked like Bruce Banner as the green guy. Not good.

He set his feet like he was ready to fight. “What do you think you were doing?”

No clue. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Dad, I’m twenty-one years old.” I mirrored his position. “This is a little past due.”

“Don’t care how old you are. You can pay me the courtesy of letting me know where you’re going and that you’re okay.”

“That’s what this is about?” I snorted. “Not hardly. You’re freaking out because I was out with a guy.” Didn’t need to mention which guy.

“Yeah, some guy no one knows anything about.” He shook his head. “Not a good call.”

“No.” I stepped a little closer. For not having fought with my dad much growing up, I took to it pretty quick. “A guy
you
don’t know anything about. I know him fine—and he’s nice. But you wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t even shake his hand.”

“At the least, I should know that you’re out with him.”

Dad’s glare made me feel like I was thirteen and had done something really horrible. Like sneaked out at night with a boy. It was different when you were older, wasn’t it?

His eyebrow crooked in the most condescending way. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

I wasn’t thirteen. Even if he was right about my ignorance. “Who’s fault is that?”

“I taught you things that matter. How to work. To be honest. Treat people well.” The volume in his voice notched up with each item on his list. “Now you’re out fishing for the wrong kind of attention from the wrong kind of men. I didn’t teach you that.”

“Wrong kind of men? Like what? Like you?”

He drew back, but his angry eyes darkened.

I didn’t care. “Why’d my mother leave anyway, Dad? You never told me. Was there a reason?” My heart beat hard against my ribs, but I didn’t slow down. “Maybe you’re afraid because of the kind of guy
you
were. That’s not my fault.”

Dad’s hand cut through the air. “Enough!” He stepped forward and towered over me. “You’ll not stand in my house and talk to me like that.”

“Fine.” I spun on the ball of my foot and stormed away. “’Bout time I went out on my own anyway.”

The short hall couldn’t pass under my feet fast enough. Once in my room, I ripped a dresser drawer open. Work clothes. Undies. Socks. Hat. All went into my old high school gym bag. I crossed the hallway from my room to the bathroom. Soap. Shampoo. Deodorant. Toothbrush. Makeup? The moment Jesse’s eyes caught me coming out of the club flashed through my mind. He said I looked beautiful—and not just with his words. Yes.
Definitely bring the makeup.
And maybe one or two of my new girly outfits.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dad’s voice caught me as I left the bathroom. He leaned against the hallway wall with one shoulder, his arms once again crossed.

“Packing.”

An eyebrow hiked. “Where are you gonna go at one a.m.?”

“Lexington.” I slid back into my room. “I’ve got a job this weekend. Starts in the morning.” I stuck my head out the door and met his eyes. “I’m not completely helpless. And I don’t always need my daddy to hold my hand. Maybe it’s time we both understood that.”

Something passed over his expression—dark and powerful. Anger or hurt? I didn’t stand around long enough to figure it out. Shouldering my bag, I stomped into my tennis shoes, snagged my work boots and keys, and headed for the door.

Dad didn’t say another word. In cold silence, he stayed propped against the wall, steel in his glare.

Never thought I’d leave him like that.

Dale

She walked out.

Like mother, like daughter.

My jaw quivered. Suddenly I remembered the exact pain that had seized my heart twenty years before. My lungs didn’t want to work. Air couldn’t reach them, and my chest began to collapse. Pain radiated from my heart to my limbs, and I wished my pulse would stop.

What had I thought would happen tonight? That Sarah would come out of her room, dragging her blankie, and say, “I’m sorry I grew up, Dad”? Not exactly, but I didn’t think she’d fight me. She didn’t need to get so mad when I was only concerned for her well-being. I wasn’t exaggerating—she didn’t know what was out there, what she was getting herself into.

Whose fault was that?

How was I supposed to teach her those kinds of things? I was a failure when it came to relationships. Even, apparently, with my daughter. I didn’t want her to end up like me and, heaven help me, like her mother.

I stumbled into the front room of our small house and fell into my recliner as our argument continued to replay.

Wrong kind of men—like you?

Exactly.

I’d loved her mother. In the shallow, she-makes-me-feel-good kind of way. I thought I’d be her hero and that would make me something. It was all selfishness. That was a young man for you.

Guilt weighed on me every time I remembered how Cassie died. Alone. Strung out. A used-up piece of garbage, painted to look like a treasure.

I’d failed her. She’d needed a hero, and I failed.

Now it was happening again. To have Sarah go down that same path? I’d die. Felt like I was dying right there in my empty house. I could see it all in my mind—some good-looking kid would pull her close, whisper promises only meant to entice, desire only meant for self-gratification, and she’d latch on to that wisp of belonging. She’d think she’d found herself in his eyes.

It was all very vivid because I’d seen the story play out before in her mother’s blue eyes. But I couldn’t make Cassie whole or into the person she’d wanted to be. I’d only confused her more and disappointed her dreams. And through it all, what I thought was love had been selfishness. Because young men didn’t know what love is.