“Who did this?” she asked in a reverent whisper.
“I dunno. Gram might, though, or know how we can find out. We should ask her.”
“I can’t believe it’s mostly intact, after all this time.” Glancing around the abandoned church, she added, “It’s like getting a gift from God, isn’t it?”
Scott didn’t respond to that, and out of the corner of her eye she caught his grimace. Turning to face him, she asked, “Did I say something wrong?”
“I’m just thinking we should figure out how to get this thing outta here before the roof caves in on it.”
“Good point.” Instinct told her there was more to his reaction than he was letting on, but it wasn’t her place to force him into discussing something he was clearly intent on keeping to himself. In the past year, she’d learned the Barrett men were stubborn to the core. They didn’t do anything against their considerable will, and she doubted that anything she might say would change this one.
Outside, they pulled a few of the old clapboards from the structure and discovered that whoever had covered the window had nailed up a piece of wood to protect it. So with Jenna inside steadying the fragile piece, Scott used a circular saw to cut out a square slightly bigger than the glass. Then she ran out to hold the frame while he made the last cuts, and together they lowered it to the ground.
Tufts of grass stuck through the open spots, completely ruining any aesthetic effect it once had. Jenna plunked her hands on her hips in disgust. “Well, that’s heartbreaking. I’ve never done stained glass like this, so I have no idea how to go about matching those colors.”
“Whattya mean?” Scott asked, clearly confused.
“We need to restore this and hang it back where it belongs,” she explained patiently.
“Why?”
“Because that’s how it was meant to be.” His baffled expression made it plain he still wasn’t following her line of reasoning. Reaching for an explanation he might understand, she said, “It’s like you making bead board for the kitchen. They have this really cool invention now, y’know. It’s called Sheetrock, and it works great for building interior walls. You can paint it and everything.”
“All right, you got me,” he relented with a chuckle. After a moment, he sobered, and that lingering sorrow clouded his face. “I’m sure Granddad would want the chapel the way it used to be. The problem is it’s gonna take most of my budget to fix the structural stuff, and I don’t have a lot of cash to throw around for doodads. How much do you think it’d cost to restore this thing?”
“If you help me get it to and from my studio, I’ll do it for free,” she blurted impulsively. Busy as she already was, taking on another project—a free one at that—made no sense at all. But in her heart she knew it was the right thing to do. When he gave her a dubious look, she added, “For Will.”
While he considered that, some of the darkness lifted from his features, and he offered his hand to seal the deal. “For Will.”
They stood that way for a few seconds, hands joined as they stared at each other. She noticed a hint of warmth in the depths of his eyes, and Jenna felt herself inexplicably drawn to this broken man who was trying to rebuild his life much like the property he’d inherited. She couldn’t help wondering if Will had intended just that, giving his wayward grandson another path to follow than the errant one he’d chosen.
Thinking about the generous man still made her teary, so she pulled her hand back and tried to focus her wandering mind on what needed to be done. While she was mulling, she spotted an ancient Ford delivery truck parked under a nearby tree. Decades of use had left the burgundy paint dull and faded, and she could barely read the Barrett’s Sawmill logo on the door. “Don’t tell me you ended up with the old mill truck.”
“Yeah, it’s my turn. Paul used it when he first came back, then Jason. It’s not fancy, but it runs. Most of the time,” he added with a wry grin.
“My van’s over at the cemetery. If you can give me a lift, I’ll drive it back here so we can put the window in back.”
“Actually, the other day I found some old quilts in the attic of the house. We can wrap the window in those and lay it flat in the bed of the truck. It should travel well enough that way, then I’ll drive you back to get your van.”
His suggestion made the task easier for her but required more effort from him, she realized. She approved his gesture with a smile. “Works for me.”
He retrieved the blankets, and they worked together to cushion the priceless artwork for its short trip across the valley.
Once it was secured in the back of his truck, she strolled over to eye the area beneath the hole they’d just made. “I’m guessing there are pieces of glass in the cavity between the interior and exterior walls.”
Scott groaned. “Sure, tiny ones that broke when they fell outta the frame. You won’t be able to repair them.”
“But I can get the original colors from them,” she argued, refusing to let his pessimistic assessment drown her enthusiasm for this project. “If you want this place to look the way it’s supposed to, having an accurate history of the decor will be important.”
“Decor. You sound like my new sisters-in-law.”
Biting back a sharp comment, she deflected his criticism with her sweetest smile. “What a nice thing to say. Chelsea and Amy are two of my favorite people.”
After a moment, his bravado faded a bit. “Yeah, I can see why. I didn’t mean to insult your friends.”
He clearly meant it as an apology, and she decided to take it that way. “They’re both great people, and if you take the time to get to know them, you won’t be sorry. After all, they’re part of your family now.”
Her gentle suggestion seemed to curdle the air between them, and the wariness he’d shown earlier returned with a cool vengeance. “Thanks for the tip,” he replied in a tone edged with sarcasm.
“Oh, don’t even bother with that,” she scolded, glaring up at him. “Growl and sulk all you want, but I’ve dealt with way tougher customers than you. You don’t scare me for a minute.”
As he studied her intently, his expression shifted from detached to fascinated in a heartbeat. “Tougher than me? When?”
“That’s absolutely none of your business,” she informed him, pivoting on her heel to grab another crowbar from his immaculate toolbox. “Now, do you want to help me or am I taking this wall apart by myself?”
He didn’t reply, and it took all her willpower not to look over her shoulder to gauge his reaction. Doing her best to forget he was even there, she inserted the bar into the rough-cut opening and started prying the dry, cracked boards away from the studs. Before long, Scott appeared beside her, and she braced herself for an arrogant masculine lecture on what she was doing wrong.
Instead, he silently took a position on the other side and began dismantling that section. She’d never have pegged him as the kind of guy who’d let a woman take the lead in anything, and she was more than a little impressed by his accepting attitude.
Of course, he also had a peculiar knack for aggravating her, she reminded herself immediately. Since he was a Barrett, she felt safe assuming his mulish disposition was equal parts inherited and acquired from his punishing recent history. She’d always had a weakness for bad boys, searching for the good in them and more often than not ending up disappointed when she found there wasn’t enough to work with.
It