At Home in His Heart

She couldn’t tell Meg how Keith had worried about Bryce. About his wild ways. His hard drinking and hard partying. His superficial relationships with women. Keith had done his best to influence Bryce, to convince him he wasn’t really living unless he was living for God. But Bryce the Bullheaded carried on in the direction he was determined to go—and good-naturedly badgered Keith to join him on his journey.

“As the old saying goes, Meg, sitting in a garage doesn’t make you a car.”

“It’s a start.”

“Maybe.” Guilt nibbled around the edges of her conscience. She’d been kind of snippy with him at the Warehouse and again at the museum last night. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t how Keith—or God—would want her treating him. “Because of his interference, Keith delayed proposing. We could have been married who knows how much earlier if Bryce hadn’t poked his nose in where it didn’t belong. That’s time Keith and I’ll never get back.”

Time that maybe she could have grown up more. Done things differently.

“But if you’d have married earlier,” Meg said, her gaze steady, “even if you got pregnant right away like you did with Gina, your baby wouldn’t have been Gina.”

“I know.” Sandi toyed with the ribbon on a basket of spa-type goodies that Meg had given her for her birthday. “And I wouldn’t trade her for the world.”

She glanced out the open French doors to the patio, where Meg had several flats of petunias awaiting transplant. Could smell the sweet fragrance. Hear the laughter of their precious children coming from somewhere under the long-shadowed pines.

“But can’t you see why I’m not thrilled about Bryce’s homecoming?” She poked at an ice cube with the tip of her finger. “I hear he’s doing odd jobs. Not what I’d call earning-a-living work. Moved in with his grandma—like she needs him to deal with. And now he’s announced the historical museum rent will go up when the lease renews.”

Meg cringed. “You’re on a tight budget, aren’t you?”

“Even with measly city assistance we’re barely hanging on, what with the drop in seasonal visitors. And of course Bryce raises the rent right when I’ve almost saved enough money to donate a display case. Right when I’m prepared to approach the board about expanding our miniscule armed services exhibit to a room of its own. But unless summer revenues rebound or we can drum up more local support, that won’t happen anytime soon—thanks to Sergeant Harding.”

“Maybe he didn’t have a choice. Mae could need the money.”

“More likely he does.” Wine, women and song didn’t come cheap.

Meg sipped at her lemonade, struggling to suppress a smile.

“What?”

“Oh, I just seem to recall that less than a year ago I, too, met a certain single someone over a bottle of aspirin at Dix’s Woodland Warehouse.” She waved a hand around the kitchen of their newlywed home. “And look where I am today.” Sandi wagged a warning finger. “Don’t even—” “Mommy! Mommy!” two giggling, childish voices yelled in unison. The screen door off the laundry room slammed behind them, then her almost-first-grade daughter and classmate pal Davy Diaz charged into the kitchen. Davy threw himself into his mother’s open arms just as Gina did likewise with her own mom. Hugs all around.

“Oh, my goodness.” Meg brushed back her stepson’s black hair to reveal a smudged forehead that matched his grimy cheeks. “How’d you two get so dirty?”

“We’re building Gilligan’s Island,” Davy managed to get out, still attempting to catch his breath. “On that big pile of dirt Daddy dumped back there. I’m Gilligan and Gina’s Skipper.”

“Can you believe it, Meg? Gilligan’s Island fans. Third generation. Thank goodness for DVDs.” Sandi allowed Gina to climb onto her lap. Then, slipping her arms around her daughter’s waist, she smiled down at the pigtailed tomboy who, except for the blond hair and freckles, looked so much like her daddy. “Let’s get you home and cleaned up.” Gina’s shoulders slumped. “I like being dirty.” “I know you do. But tomorrow’s a church day.” Gina pointed at her playmate. “You goin’, Davy?” He nodded his head in exaggerated agreement. “Yup.” Sandi gathered up their things, then Meg and Davy escorted them to their car.

“Thanks for agreeing to take care of Gina a few afternoons a week this summer, Meg. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate knowing she’ll have a safe and happy place to go. The afterschool babysitter this year has been cranky and impatient. Not good with kids at all.”

“You know I’m more than happy to have her here. She and Davy get along so well. Seldom fight.”

“Thank goodness.” She turned to the driver’s door, but Meg’s hand stayed her, eyes troubled.

“I know I don’t know everything there is to know about him like you do, Sandi, but I think you’re wrong about Bryce.”

“Don’t I wish.” She gave her friend a halfhearted smile.

But she wouldn’t hold her breath.

“Hey, big fella.”

Bryce felt a nudge and looked up from the Warehouse shelves where, crouched and arms full, he’d been gathering items for museum-repair jobs.

“Hey, Kara.” He rose to his feet, taking in the tall, pony-tailed woman beside him, her red-blond hair shimmering down her back. “How are things in your world?”

“Good. Grand opening of the equine center’s almost here. Thanks for giving Trey a hand.” She motioned to the merchandise cradled in his arms. “How about you? Looks like you’re planning serious home repair.”

“Not quite, but close. Canyon Springs Historical Museum.”

Kara laughed. A laugh he well remembered from when she’d helped him when he’d filled in for another guy on the parsonage remodel last winter. A Canyon Springs hometown girl who’d spent time as a Chicago interior designer, she’d been a much-needed ally at making the place female friendly without going overboard on foo-foo stuff as some of the church ladies had pushed for.

“Didn’t take long for Sandi to put you to work, did it?” Kara folded her arms, eyes bright with amusement. “I’m told that ‘to do’ list of hers keeps half this town hopping.”

“So I’m not its only victim?”

“No, but from looking at what you have there, I’m guessing you got more than your fair share.”

“That’s what I thought.” He shook his head, not quite understanding how he let her push the projects off on him. He should have stood his ground. Backed her down when she started in with that “it seems only right” stuff. Not let her manipulate him the way she’d done poor old Keith.

She’d made it no secret back then that she wanted her husband out of the service—and out of Canyon Springs. Grandma said she still lived in that house trailer Keith bought at the end of his third year in the service, back when he dreamed of spending hard-earned leave time in the mountains fishing from dawn until dusk. Bryce always figured Keith’s bride would vacate right after his buddy was settled six feet under.

So what was she still doing here?

Kara glanced toward the Warehouse entrance, her smile widening. “Looks like someone’s checking up on you, Sergeant.”

He followed her gaze to the door, where Sandi had just entered, looking mighty pretty in a pair of below-the-knee shorts and blue knit top. Proceeding to the back of the store, she didn’t look his way. Hadn’t seen him. He could sneak out. Come back later. He couldn’t let her think she had only to snap her fingers and he’d come running. He should have put the supply trip off a few days. Weeks. Made her wait.

“Would you mind holding this stuff for me up front, Kara?”

“Be happy to.”

He walked with her to the checkout counter, where she had him place his items off to the side. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Almost to the door he halted. He’d likely see Sandi at church tomorrow, wouldn’t he? Did he want her dogging him about the repairs in front of other people? Maybe he should let her know he was on top of things. Didn’t need a drill sergeant to keep tabs on him. Remind her he was his own boss, set his own time lines.

He headed toward the back of the store with determined steps. Rounding the corner in front of a towering paper towel display, he almost collided with Sandi. In one arm she cradled two cereal boxes, a bag of bagels and a loaf of bread. Her other hand clutched a gallon milk jug.

Startled, she stepped back, directing a frown at him.

“Sorry, Sandi. Let me help you with that.”

With some reluctance—or so it seemed to him—she relinquished the armload. She was probably still mad that he’d told her she needed to get a life. It was the truth, but maybe he shouldn’t have been so brusque. Then again, if she could be bossy, why couldn’t he be blunt?

“Thanks.” She gripped the milk jug tightly, an uncertain gaze flitting to his.

He gave the grocery items a once-over. “Looks like breakfast.”

She ran a hand through her silky hair. “It dawned on me as Gina and I were heading home that I didn’t have a single breakfast item in the house.”