“So, youaregoing back, then?” It wasn’t lost on Roy that there was a twinge of disappointment in Cora’s voice, or that the realization that he was disappointing her left a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Roy sighed. “I miss working on the ranch,” he admitted. “Working with my hands, being outside all day on the fields in the open air, working with the animals. It’s never work I envisioned myself doing before I left town, but now it’s become a part of my life that I really enjoy.”
Cora nodded, listening patiently while Roy rapped on the table with his knuckles, a nervous habit. “But I also know that I have responsibilities here. I know that my father left me all of this because he was counting on me, and I don’t want to let him down, again.”
He said that last part, ‘again,’ with a trace of sadness that emphasized the crux of why he was struggling. He felt torn between two worlds—the world he left behind that he was coming to realize might still have a place for him, and the life he had built for himself and a job that brought him satisfaction in spite of the loneliness that came with it.
Suddenly Cora’s face lit up, as if she were having an epiphany, her smiling revealing a charming gap between her two front teeth and a dimple on one cheek. “What if there was a way that you could work outside with your hands here in Lakewood? At least for a little while, until you figure out what you want to do?”
Roy raised one eyebrow, intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”
“When your father became ill, the church started to fall apart. He was always the one who kept up with repairs, and once he became sick, no one else stepped up to maintain it. It fell into disrepair, the gardens became overgrown…” Cora trailed off, and her eyes had a distant look. Roy wondered if she were remembering the church house in its prime, before his father’s illness.
“All the churchgoers in Lakewood have been traveling to Magnolia Grove for Sunday service, because our building isn’t safe to inhabit. Parts of the floor are rotting, and the roof is leaking in some spots, so there’s no telling when it would just collapse on us all.”
“You want me to repair the church,” Roy said as a statement of confirmation rather than a question.
“Would you?” Cora asked, her eyes pleading.
Roy hesitated. This sounded like a project that would keep him town for longer than he had planned. Eventually the community would start talking about his return, and how would they react to his working on a building that represented a way of life he rejected? He knew he would have a lot of questions to answer, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. But Cora’s face had already lit up in hopeful excitement, and Roy found it difficult to say no to her.
“I can take a look at it,” Roy compromised, and Cora jumped up out of her seat. She was bouncing on her heels with a sparkle in her eyes.
“Oh, that’s great! Why don’t we go look right now? You can see what you think!”
Before Roy could protest, she was already bounding toward the door. Roy took one more gulp of Cora’s fantastic coffee, realizing with amusement that he would need more than one cup to ever be able to match her energy.
The Burns’ house resided at the end of a road that didn’t get much traffic, by foot or wagon, but across the road and a little way down, inside the clearing of several old oak trees, stood the church. Roy remembered throughout his childhood that it felt like they owned that whole stretch of road; the only time people ever came near that area was to go to the church house or if they had business with his father. For the most part, Roy enjoyed the quiet. He imagined having a lot of land of his own and enjoying that serenity.
Less than a few minutes later, Cora and Roy stood in front of the dilapidated building. A pang of agony settled in Roy’s chest as he looked at the place that his father took so much pride in stand in such a state of disarray. The white paint was faded and chipped, so it would definitely need another coat or two applied. The garden was overgrown, and clumps of weeds replaced what once had been beautiful, blossoming flowers adoring the front of the building.
But as Roy stepped inside the church, Cora following carefully behind, he realized that the cosmetics out front were the least of the worries. The church was built on piers, and parts of the floor were soft, threatening to give way when exposed to any excess weight. There was no questioning that he would need to replace most of the flooring. Metal buckets sat in various parts around the room filled with stale water from days it had rained. He would need to get on top of the roof and patch those areas.
Overall, this repair job was doable, but it certainly would be a project that would take more than just a few days. It would involve a lot of work and hours in the sun, but seeing the church in this state filled Roy with a newfound determination. He wasn’t just motivated by Cora’s pleas anymore. This was something he needed to do for his father—and for himself.
“What are you thinking?” Cora asked, as she must have noticed his quiet, contemplative posture as he meandered throughout the church with a faraway look in his eyes.
“I’ll do it,” Roy said, first to himself, and then to her, making a mental note to send word to his boss back in Wheats Ridge, explaining the situation. “I’ll stay long enough to take care of these repairs.”
“Oh, thank you, Roy!” Cora jumped up and down, clapping her hands in a childlike manner, and it warmed Roy’s heart to see her so happy.
“This place meant a lot to my father.”And me, at one time in my life, although Roy didn’t vocalize the second part. “I think he would want me to restore it to its former glory.”
He may have been too late to repair his relationship with his father, but perhaps he could do the next best thing and fix the building that his father once held dear. He only hoped that it would be enough to repair the hurt in his heart.
Chapter Thirteen
Cora felt like she was walking on clouds when she came home later that evening. Roy complimented her coffee, which pleased her more than she thought it would, but even more importantly, he had agreed to take on the repairs to the church.
As she put the peas boiling and began chopping the carrots and potatoes for her and her father’s dinner, she thanked God for the blessing of Roy, which was a prayer of thanksgiving she never expected to make, certainly not when Pastor Burns first sent her to Wheats Ridge.
Not only would the people of Lakewood soon be able to worship in town again, but they would be able to thank Pastor Burns’ own son for making it possible. Cora thought about how providential it was that the repairs to the church could lead to healing not only between Roy and the church community, but also between Roy and his relationship with God.
“Lord, please allow this project Roy’s undertaking to be the beginning of healing, not just for the physical building of the church, but for Roy and the entire community,” Cora vocalized her prayer and she continued to cook. She found that praying when doing the small, mundane chores that God had set before her helped her feel even more connected to Him—and they made the chores more bearable.
Sheriff Williams came through the door just as Cora was setting the table with the black-eyed peas and vegetables she had cooked. He hung his hat on the hook and took his place at the dinner table. Cora noticed stiffness in his shoulders, which usually meant he had a difficult day at work. Perhaps he had to endure the irrationalities of a town drunkard or chase down a thief taking food from the general store.
“Is everything okay, Pa?” she asked after several moments of silence. Usually by now he would already be delving into stories of his workday, but today he was unusually quiet. After several seconds, he carefully wiped his face with his napkin and looked up at Cora.
