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

  Love’s Emerging Faith: Texas Homecoming, Book 3

  First Street Church, Book 20

  Sharon Hughson

  © 2019, Sharon Hughson.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Cover Design by RockSolidBookDesign.com

  Proofread by Alice Shepherd

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

  Sweet Promise Press

  PO Box 72

  Brighton, MI 48116

  For those whose hearts seek a homecoming may they find it

  Contents

  Publisher’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  What’s Next?

  You May Also Like

  More from Sweet Promise Press

  More from Sharon Hughson

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

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  1

  Bailey Travers tossed his hat on the rack beside his desk and thumbed through the stack of mail his landlord had handed him on his way out of the apartment. The scrawl of blue ink on an obviously government-issued envelope drew his gaze.

  Is this you? Was written in barely legible printing. Two forwarding stickers covered the original address, but the name on it scalded through him and he nearly dropped the envelope.

  Bailey Dyer. Bailey Dyer was a scared ten-year-old boy whose mother was dead and whose father was in prison. A boy whose maternal grandmother claimed, “He’s too much trouble.”

  A venomous snake coiled in Bailey’s stomach. There was only one person this letter could be about.

  Memories sliced through him of pain searing his bare back, of baby Tessa screaming in the other room, the cat urine smell of his mother’s rare hugs, and the scorn dripping from his father’s voice. Ugliness tugged him toward the past, but Bailey blinked his way back to the present.

  He dug his fingernails beneath the flap of the envelope, tearing with enough force to make it a pile of scraps. With shaking fingers he opened the single sheet, and his gaze scanned the lines of text.

  Daddy Dyer had made parole. This letter was to inform him that the man who'd scarred more than his flesh was walking the streets of Texas once more.

  Don't let him find me.

  A knot tightened in his shoulders. Bailey ground his teeth together and tossed the letter into the trash.

  That was where memories of his old life belonged. He had a new life now. Today he had an important meeting with his boss, Dick Clarkson, and no time to consider ancient history.

  Ever since mentioning a branch office closer to Sweet Grove, his mentor had been pushing Bailey out of his comfort zone. Bailey sat at his drafting table and slammed the door on his past as he opened up the drawings he’d made to convert a strip mall in Rosewood, Texas.

  Hours later, Dick stared at the monitor on the conference room wall. Bailey gulped. His plan for creating an indoor marketplace was displayed on the huge screen. Bailey had reworked the sketches after every meeting with potential occupants, with a total of four revisions during the past week alone.

  Everyone had their own idea about what would work the best, and Bailey thought he might go bald trying to please them all. This was the reason he’d argued against taking on design clients. Still, he hoped to present the final plan at the investor meeting the following evening. But only if Dick believed it checked all the boxes for the string of entrepreneurs who were going out on a limb to create something unique to Rosewood.

  Rosewood, Texas, where the love of his life’s father worked. The small city was only thirty minutes from where he grew up, a place his younger sister was converting into a guest ranch.

  At the thought of the two women in his life, Bailey fought the urge to check his phone. It had vibrated a few minutes earlier, and he suspected it was Jaz with the most recent update on her mother. Geraldine Rolle had been involved in a serious accident nearly eight weeks previously, and Jaz had moved to Sweet Grove to be the primary daytime caregiver. Since Bailey had shared the caregiving role with his younger sister Tess during the final weeks of their foster father’s life, he understood the emotional toll it could take on a person.

  Today, Jaz was hoping the orthopedic surgeon declared her mother beyond the risk of reinjury.

  His boss swiveled his steely gaze with the force of a horse’s kick. “Looks great, Bailey.” Dick extended his hand. Bailey’s callouses rubbed over the man’s smoother palm. “I knew you could do this.”

  “That makes one of us.” Bailey released a sigh, but the tension in his shoulders remained.

  Dick laughed and slapped his mentee’s back. “The good ones are always hardest on themselves. I guess you should draw up a plan for that office space in Rosewood we found, huh?”

  “I can start on that.” Bailey ducked his chin in a nod. “If you’re sure that’s the office you want.”

  Dick nodded. A strange warmth puddled beneath the terror clawing at Bailey’s gut.

  The branch office close to his hometown would be much smaller and, initially, a one-man show. Once he built a solid list of clients, he could hire an administrative assistant and — hard to fathom —another designer to help him carry the load.

  For someone who hadn’t wanted to work directly with customers a few weeks ago, this was a huge step.

  You can do anything you set your mind to. Jaz’s husky voice had whispered those very words in his ear as he was ushering her into her car four days ago for her return to Sweet Grove. He yearned to be back in the same city as she was, but for how long? If he moved to Sweet Grove and she came back to her job in Austin, they would be separated again.

  He jerked his mind out of
the quicksand pulling his sense of accomplishment into a funk. They would work it out. They’d been through too much together to let something like a hundred miles conquer their love.

  “I’ll be at the meeting tomorrow, but you’ll do fine.” Dick stood and stretched. Bailey jumped to his feet, ignoring the niggle of doubt that came from too many years of trying to earn his place but falling short.

  “I appreciate your vote of confidence, sir.” Bailey reached for the brim of his hat to tap it with his customary salute of respect. But since he was inside, the hat was on its peg near his drafting table.

  Dick’s eyebrow twitched upward, and the corners of his thin lips trembled. “You haven’t let me down yet, son.”

  Son. The word echoed through Bailey as his boss strode out of the conference room. He’d already lost two fathers. Not that he’d considered the abusive man who spent most of his life in prison a father. No, he’d buried his father six months ago because Fritz Travers had reared him, supported him, believed in him, and left him everything but a legal adoption to claim they were father and son. Dick Clarkson would be a poor substitute for the second man but a vast improvement over the first.

  Bailey had another Father, too, one he’d been trying to renew a relationship with ever since realizing his humanity could cost him the woman he loved more than anything.

  God, I’m struggling here. I feel like this move is from You, so help me ace this presentation.

  As he methodically moved through disconnecting his laptop from the meeting room’s system, Bailey let the thought of God and Fritz smiling down on him shove aside the lingering doubts about the presentation.

  On his way back to his desk, his passed his coworker Mark.

  “Coming to the gym?” Mark asked.

  The ache in Bailey’s shoulders reminded him that he hadn’t worked out that morning. Nor had he been to the gym the night before. He’d rather be heading out for a horseback ride, but maybe that could be on the agenda for the weekend.

  “Let me finish up a couple things.”

  Mark shook his head. “Don’t let a couple things turn into an hour.” He punched Bailey lightly on the shoulder. “You work too much.”

  Easy for Mark to say, since he’d been with the firm since graduation from his design program four years ago. And the twenty-five-year-old seemed young to him, younger even than Tess who was the same age.

  Tess would be thrilled to hear he was moving home.

  As he saved all the pertinent files and cleared his desk, he let himself imagine that conversation. He snorted. Okay, thrilled might be an overstatement. She’d accuse him of trying to interfere in her fledgling business plans. Like he knew anything about running a guest ranch. Although he did know how to keep the stock happy and calm the mounts for any greenhorns who might think they wanted to take a trail ride. Now that autumn had cooled the temperatures and brought occasional rains, the pasture would spring to life until the cold winds of winter required regular feedings of hay.

  The thought of hay made him itch for the barn. This past weekend he’d harvested the late crop from the Wells’ field with help from Adonis and Herman. If it wasn’t for them, he wasn’t sure how Tess would be managing the ranching side of her business. She didn’t need him? Ha. She’d always need him.

  After sweating through his t-shirt in a couple games of basketball at the gym, Bailey headed into the weight room. He let visions of running with Jaz push him through his push-ups, pull-ups, and sit-ups. When he got home, he’d call her to update her about his move and find out how her mom’s doctor appointment went.

  Back at his studio apartment, Bailey rushed through a shower. He dumped a can of chili into a bowl and tossed it in the microwave. While it heated, he pulled up Jaz’s name at the top of his contact list.

  “Hey, cowboy.” She sounded tired, but her sultry tones revved his heartbeat.

  “Hey, beautiful. What did your mom hear from the doc today?” He scooped the steaming chili into a bowl. His stomach groaned as he pulled crackers from a cupboard, a poor substitute for homemade cornbread.

  “The doctor released her from home health. Looks like I’ll be heading back to Austin.” She didn’t sound as excited at the prospect as he’d expected.

  “That doesn’t make you happy?”

  “I’m ready for Mom to be well, but…”

  Bailey took his bowl to the card table and sat in the camp chair beside it. He listened to her talk about her father and missing the kids at the office. Now that he was moving back to Sweet Grove, the idea that she would be two hours away in Austin made the move home less exciting.

  Before he could share his big news, his phone buzzed. He stared at the screen. It was his sister. “Tess is calling,” he said when Jaz paused. “Can I call you back?”

  “Sure.”

  Before he said anything else, the call ended. That was Jaz. She wasn’t much for drawn-out goodbyes.

  “Hey, sis.” Bailey shoveled a bite of chili into his mouth.

  “Our father is here!” Tess said, and the spicy meat and beans nearly choked him.

  Bailey coughed. “What?”

  “Lonie Dyer,” his sister hissed. “He looks like a really ancient you.”

  Bailey had just gotten that notification. How could his father already have made it to Sweet Grove? And how did he know where to find them?

  He gripped his damp hair. Yanking it out wouldn’t prove anything. The stupid letter from the corrections department had been forwarded from Houston to Sweet Grove and finally found him in Austin. It could have been a month old.

  He dropped his fists onto the table, rattling his bowl of chili.

  Tess squealed. “Did you just punch something?”

  “Tell me you made him go away.”

  “How would I do that? It’s not like I wasn’t standing on the porch of a huge farmhouse.”

  “You don’t know him.”

  “You’re right. I don’t.” A squawk sounded from her end of the phone. Her voice raised. “But he is our father.”

  “He was a sperm donor. Fritz and MaryAnn were always our real parents. Especially to you.”

  Tess sighed. “I have a guest, a man doing surveys for Liam James. I put them at opposite ends upstairs.”

  Their ranch was much closer to James’ place than the bed and breakfast, but it was unusual that singles stayed at the ranch. Bailey despised the idea of Tess being alone with strange men.

  A shiver convulsed through Bailey’s gut. Lonie Dyer was not to be trifled with. He was a conman and a petty thief. Although he couldn’t be bothered to sign away his parental rights and kept making parole at just the wrong times during Bailey’s youth, the man hadn’t been any sort of father.

  And Tess should never be alone with him. Not for any reason.

  “I’m in the barn, but I don’t know what to do. He showed up asking for you. Then he was all, ‘Are you Tessa? You’re even more gorgeous than your mama.’ And he meant it.”

  So, the snake hadn’t lost the charm he’d used to con his way into marrying their mother. Not that he’d ever used it on Bailey.

  “Go stay with Elise.”

  Tessa huffed. “I’m not leaving my guest. I haven’t finished breakfast for tomorrow. And Pastor Bernie preached about loving our enemies on Wednesday—”

  “Pastor Bernie doesn’t know Lonie Dyer. I do.”

  “Well, I don’t. You’ve never said a thing.” He heard the pout in her voice. She probably had her arms crossed and her chin aimed at the ceiling.

  Bailey pounded the unsuspecting card table, and the chili nearly spilled. “You. Don’t. Need. To. Know.” He shoved away from the table and paced to the windows. Energy zipped through him, screaming for an outlet.

  I’d like to pound my fist into Lonie Dyer’s face.

  But violence had never solved a single problem for Bailey. Instead, it made things worse.

  Blessed are the peacemakers. The words from the Bible he’d been listening to on his walk between work, th
e gym, and his apartment came back with haunting clarity.

  He isn’t seeking peace. I guarantee he’s looking for money or something else.

  And Tess was an innocent. She had no clue how to defend herself against a vile predator like Lonie Dyer.

  “I’m coming tonight.”

  He had planned to drive up in the morning for the meeting with the investors and to meet with the owner of the prospective office space.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t know that.” Bailey shoved back the livestream of horrors he’d lived until Lonie was convicted and sent to prison. Eight years as the man’s victim taught him all he needed to know. There would be no changing the man. If anything, prison had hardened him further. “I’ll feel better if I’m there.”

  “Whatever. I just wanted to talk to someone who would understand how freaked out I am.”

  Bailey had an excellent thought and straightened. “Why don’t you call Jaz? Have her come out and stay with you until I get there.”

  “Any excuse to see your sweetheart.” But the relief in her tone was evident.

  Jaz wouldn’t fall for Lonie’s crap. And she could handle him if he got any ideas about laying a finger on Tess. Bailey’s shoulders slumped a little.

  “If anyone will understand daddy issues, it’s Jaz.” She’d been working through hers, but until a few weeks ago there was more tension than friendliness between her and Ronald Rolle.

  “I don’t have daddy issues.” There was a snort in the background. “Did you hear what your horse had to say about it?”