“Interested in what? Helping with this ministry? Of course I am.”
“In Lacey.”
“Go away, Bailey. You’re starting to be a fifth-grade pest.”
“Write her a note and ask her out.”
“You stink at matchmaking. Matchmakers are supposed to be sneaky, a little underhanded.”
Bailey laughed, her eyes watering. “Oh, thank you, now that I know the finer points of the art, I’ll do better next time. Maybe you should learn the fine art of realizing when a woman is perfect for you.”
“That’s obviously a lesson I never learned.” He closed the case on his guitar. He saw Lacey walk out as if she had somewhere to be. “Bailey, I’m not interested. I really thought I’d found the right woman, and I dated her for three years only to find out she wasn’t interested in a cowboy. So if you don’t mind, I’m on vacation from romance and I’m boycotting matchmakers.”
Bailey’s laughter faded, so did her smile. “She didn’t hurt you, Jay. You’re still thinking about Jamie. Maybe it’s time to let her go?”
Gut-stomped in the worst way, by a woman with a soft smile. He smiled down at Bailey, happy for her, and sorry that she knew all of his secrets.
“I’m trying, Bay. I really am. I guess that’s why I decided to come home. Because I have to face it here, and I have to deal with it.”
“I’m sorry, Jay. I thought that enough time had gone by and I was hoping you were ready to move on.”
“You were wrong.” He smiled to soften the words, because Bailey had been a friend his entire life. A pest, but a friend.
“So, you’ve given up on love?”
“For now. I want to build my house and get settled back into my life here. I’ll be thirty this winter and maybe I’m just going to be a settled old bachelor, raising my horses and doing a little singing for church.”
“What a nice dream.” She patted his arm, not the slap on the back that Cody had given him the night before. She was getting all maternal. “See you later.”
He nodded and picked up his guitar. When he walked out the front entrance of the nursing home, it was hot, unbearably hot. He pulled sunglasses out of his pocket and slid them on as he walked across the parking lot. The sound of an engine cranking, not firing, caught his attention.
Of course it would be Lacey. They were the only ones left and she was sitting in her car with the driver’s side door open.
Jay put his guitar in the front of his truck and walked over to her car. “Won’t start?”
“Nope.” She tried again. “It always starts. Why won’t it start now?”
He shrugged. Probably Bailey did something to it, something less conspicuous than just telling him he should ask Lacey out. He smiled at the thought, because he could picture Bailey out here removing the coil wire from Lacey’s car. But she wouldn’t do that. He didn’t think she would.
“Pop the hood and I’ll take a look.”
She did and he walked to the front of the car to push the hood up. The coil wire was there. He smiled. Nothing looked out of place.
“Lacey, it isn’t out of gas, is it?” He peeked around the raised hood at her.
“I don’t think so.” And then she groaned. “First the mower and now this.”
“I’ll drive you home and we’ll come back later with gas.”
“I can’t believe I did that.” She got out of the car and closed the door. “I always make sure it has gas.”
“Not today.”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with me.”
“You have a lot going on in your life.” He opened the passenger-side door of his truck. “Maybe having today off will help.”
“Maybe.”
Jay closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side with a quick look up, wondering what God was thinking. He got in and started his truck. Lacey kept her face turned, staring out the passenger-side window.
He wondered if she was crying.
* * *
The front door of the house was open. Lacey sat in Jay’s truck, her stomach tightening, because it didn’t look right. She glanced at Jay, who had remained silent during the drive home. She hadn’t had much to say, either.
What did you say to a stranger whose life you felt like you were invading?
“Do you always leave the front door of the house open?” He turned off the truck.
“Of course I don’t. Something’s wrong.” She reached for the door handle and started to get out of the truck.
Jay’s hand on her arm stopped her. “No, let me go in first.”
“Don’t say that.” Her skin prickled with cold heat. “Don’t say it like something has happened.”
“Nothing has happened, but we’re not taking chances.”
She nodded, swallowing past the lump that lodged between her heart and her throat. Jay got out of the truck and walked up to the house. He eased up to the front door and looked inside. Then he stepped through the opening into the dark house.
Lacey waited, her heart pounding, thudding in her chest. She should have known that something like this would happen. Whatever this was. She didn’t even know, but she knew without a doubt that something was wrong.
Jay walked back onto the porch and shook his head. He motioned her out of the truck. Lacey grabbed her Bible and got out. She walked to the front porch, not wanting to hear what she knew he would tell her.
“There’s no one in here.”
“Maybe she went for a walk. Or she might have gone to use your phone.” Grasping, she knew she was grasping at straws.
And Jay was just being the nice guy that he was by staying, by not making accusations.
“That’s possible,” he finally said.
“She might have left a note, telling me where she went.”
“Okay. We can look.” But he didn’t believe it. Lacey didn’t know why that hurt, but it did. Because it felt like he didn’t believe her, or trust her. She was an extension of Corry, because they had come from the same place.
She walked into the house and he followed, slower, taking more time. “I knew I should have made her go to church.”
“You can’t force someone.”
“I know, but if I had, she’d be here and Rachel would be safe.”
Lacey wouldn’t feel so frantic, like some unseen clock was ticking, telling her she was nearly out of time. And she didn’t know why, or what would happen when the time ran out.
“Lacey.” He stood in front of the desk where she kept her bills and other paperwork. “You know she has a record, right?”
Lacey turned, and he was watching her, pretending it was a normal question. “I do know.”
She wanted to ask him if he knew that she had a record. Did he know what she had done to put food on the table, to pay the rent to keep the roof over her younger siblings’ heads? She looked away, because she didn’t really want answers to those questions from him.
It was too much information, and it would let him too far into her life, and leave her open to whatever look might be in his eyes.
It