Home to Walnut Ridge (5 page)

Alex picked up the dishes again. “Oh,
I don’t know, Dad. Could it be you’re a bit décor-challenged? Which
would explain why you’ve probably never noticed the hutch over
there and the armoire back in the den.”

Tracey and her father got up to check
out the other pieces of furniture. “This is amazing, Alex!” Tracey
said, admiring the hutch. Its broad counter, doors, and open
cabinets all finished to match the dining table. “Seriously, when
did you do all this?”

“
Couple of weeks ago, I
think,” Alex answered, following them into the den. “It was when
you were on that trip to New Orleans, Dad.”

“
No kidding? These are
fantastic, Alex.”

“
Oh, and check out the
armoire,” Tracey added. “It’s gorgeous! How’d you get this look?
Paint it black then sand it?”

“
Actually it’s a color
called
Typewriter.
That’s pine under there, so I use a milk paint that gives it
a natural chippy look. I love this paint because basically, it
distresses itself. It’s really fun because every piece responds
differently.”

Tracey looked more closely, running
her finger along the inset panels of the armoire’s door. “So, is
this what you meant when you said you wanted to do something
different?”

“
Actually, it’s
exactly
what I meant.
I’m thinking of opening a little shop, then try my hand at buying
and refinishing furniture. I’ve been going to yard sales and estate
sales, picking up pieces here and there, then working on them in my
spare time. Believe it or not, I’ve had some interest in them from
friends of mine, parents of my school kids, a few others. So,
Dad . . . I was thinking about remodeling the
big smokehouse for my shop. It’s right on the road and big enough
for a workshop in back and a showroom up front. What do you
think?”

“
I think it’s a great
idea!” Buddy wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Oh!” he said,
snapping his fingers. “And I know just who to help us turn that old
shack into a cozy little place for your business‌—‌my
Elders!”

“
Who are these elders you
keep talking about?” Tracey asked. “Do you mean the deacons from
church?”

“
Good heavens, no!” Buddy
laughed. “
My
Elders. That’s what I call the guys I work with. Haven’t I
told you about them?”

“
No one ever tells me
anything, apparently,” Tracey said.

Buddy sat down on the hearth. “My
biker buddies. But they’re more than that. We do things for people.
Help ‘em out when they need help. Odd jobs, big jobs, you name
it.”

Tracey dropped into the wingback chair
beside the fireplace. “What, like a business?”

“
Not at all. It’s a
ministry. After Rob brought me back from that first road trip, I
knew I needed to find a new ministry for my life. I’d met all these
guys who like to ride, but a lot of them, like me, had way too much
time on their hands. Some are retired, some are all but homeless.
Some have problems they’re dealing with‌—‌some have done time, some
are battling addictions and what not. Some of them . . .
well, like me, some of them just needed a reason to get up in the
morning.

“
And one morning, I was
out there on the back porch having my coffee and reading my Bible,
and it came to me‌—‌almost like God just spoke it into my mind. I
knew these guys all had talents of one kind or another. And right
there, as if the whole idea just rolled out before me like a great
big panoramic vision, I could see us putting our heads and hands
together to help those in need.”

He scratched the beard
under his chin. “It’s a strange phenomenon. I never felt more alive
than when I was over in Thailand on that mission trip. And it
wasn’t just when we
told
folks
about Jesus. It
was more about
being
Jesus to those people who had no idea who He was. We built
homes for them. We dug wells so they could have fresh water. We had
a medical team that taught them about health and
hygiene.

“
See, it would’ve been a
wasted trip if we just dropped in on those folks, told them about a
Man who lived thousands of years ago and died on a cross so they
could live, then took off again. Sure, that’s the message we wanted
to tell them. But we did it by getting to know them, by investing
with our time and resources in them. We didn’t just
tell
them, we
demonstrated the love of Christ through our actions.”

Tracey could hear the passion in his
voice as he talked and see it in his blue eyes that danced on a
face warmed with compassion. She’d always thought his ready smile
and kind, gentle eyes comprised the most compassionate face on
earth. But it had been a long, long time since she’d seen him so
engaged and excited. “So you and these guys‌—‌your Elders‌—‌you
just look for things to do? Do you advertise online or in the
paper?”

“
We haven’t had to. As
soon as we finish one job, another one comes along. Sometimes lots
of ‘em. It’s the craziest thing. Course, I know where all these
jobs come from.” He nodded toward the ceiling. “‘I know from whence
my help comes,’ so to speak.”

Alex took a seat on the arm of the
sofa. “Dad, I’d love the help, and I know the guys would do a great
job, but you said it yourself‌—‌what you all do is ministry. I’m
not exactly an old widow needing her grass mowed.”

“
Obviously not, but who’s
to say which task is a job and which job is a ministry? As I
recall, you didn’t bat an eye when I came back from the hospital.
You moved back in here, took care of me, made sure I didn’t off
myself‍—‍”

“
Dad! Don’t
say‍—‍”

“
I’m just sayin’,
sweetheart, that sometimes we do things because we simply feel led
by God to do them. Besides, I’ve been wanting to do something with
that old smokehouse for years. I can’t think of a better project.
I’m excited about this!”

“
Yeah?”

“
What’s not to like? The
way I see it, we’re both on similar journeys. I give these guys
fresh starts, you give your furniture a new life. Looks like we’re
all about second chances, y’know?”

“
Dad! That’s the perfect
name for my shop‌—‌
Second
Chances.
”

“
It’s perfect, Alex,”
Tracey added. “Just perfect.”

Buddy jumped up. “I can’t wait to get
my guys on this. Do you have time to take a walk-through in the
smokehouse tomorrow? Maybe sketch out some ideas?”

“
Well, sure,” Alex said,
her face beaming as she glanced over at Tracey. Her smile fell.
“But maybe we should wait‍—‍”

“
Don’t wait on my
account,” Tracey argued. “Besides, it sounds like fun. Why not let
me help too? And maybe you could teach me some of your magic. Show
me how you transform your little beasts into beauties.”

“
I’d love to, Trace. We
can work on a piece or two, but I don’t want to tie up your whole
vacation on all this.”

Tracey felt her face warm. “Well, now
that you mention it,” she began, then cleared her throat. She
stopped and looked back toward the kitchen. “How about we put on a
fresh pot of coffee and dish up some of that cobbler? There’s
something I need to tell you both.”

Chapter
4

“
I can tell you one thing
right here and now,” Buddy snapped, angrily stirring his coffee.
“I’ve got a mind to hop on Stella, drive up to Washington, and tell
Senator Whistlebritches just what he can do with those ‘family
values’ of his.”

“
Dad, that kind of talk
doesn’t help,” Alex said.

“
Maybe not, but it would
sure feel good to smack that pretty boy’s face into the next
county.” He punched his fist into his open hand.

“
Dad, please. Alex is
right. And you and I both know you’d never do any such
thing.”

“
Yeah, yeah, I know.
Tracey Jo, does his wife know anything about all this?”

“
No, at least I don’t
think so.” The thought hadn’t occurred to her. Could Amanda have
picked up on anything? Morgan hadn’t been very discreet lately.
Then again, he’d never been out of line when the three of them were
together. “No, I seriously doubt it. We’re‍—‍” Tracey glanced down,
watching her finger crush a piece of the cobbler’s crust. She
quickly dusted the crumbs off her hands. “The thing is, I love
Amanda. I don’t
ever
want her to know about this. It would break her
heart.”

“
Yes, it would,” Buddy
said quietly. “Take that from one who’s been there.”

Alex patted her father’s hand then
turned to her sister. “So he doesn’t know yet that you’re not
coming back?”

“
I wrote him an email on
the plane giving my two-week notice.”

“
Good for you,” Buddy
said.

“
The problem is, it’s more
difficult than that. There are procedures for leaving jobs like
mine. There are exit reviews and debriefings and confidential
information that has to be‍—‍”

“
Something tells me Dick
Nixon didn’t have an ‘exit review’,” Buddy grumbled.

Alex peered over her readers. “Not
helping, Dad. Okay?”

“
Fine. But all I’m saying
is, don’t make this so hard on yourself, Tracey Jo. You’ve got
enough to deal with on an emotional level. Deal with the rest of it
later.”

“
What about your things?”
Alex asked.

“
I could probably just
send for them. Ask my landlord to have them boxed up and shipped to
me.”

Buddy slapped his hand on the table.
“No need. I’ll grab a couple of my Elders, and we’ll take care of
it. All we’ll need are your keys.”

“
You and your Elders,”
Tracey teased. “What am I gonna do with you guys?”

“
Oh, you’ll love us. I
guarantee it. You won’t be able to help yourself.”

Tracey walked over to hug him.
“Thanks, Daddy. I love you.”

“
Right backatcha,
sweetheart.”

Back in her old bedroom,
Tracey slept like a rock.
There’s
something intrinsically soothing about having the same sheets and
blankets and quilts piled over you that you slept under when you
were a child,
she mused. She smiled at the
thought and rolled over on her back, yawning as she gazed at the
clock which read 9:45.

I haven’t slept this late
in years. This is heaven . . .

She reached for her cell
phone on the bedside table and unplugged it from the charger. The
face lit up showing twelve more missed calls since she went to bed.
She flopped her head back on the pillow, debating whether she
should look at the list of names. She gave in and scrolled down the
list.
Just as I thought. Morgan, Morgan,
Morgan . . . after ten calls, could you not get the
hint?

Then she saw Amanda’s name, and her
heart skipped a beat. She pressed the link for her voicemail and
listened, bracing herself. There was no way to skip directly down
to Amanda’s message, so she listened to Morgan’s first message‌—‌a
fabricated reason for calling, nothing more. She skipped through
the rest of his messages, hearing only snippets of each until she
came to Amanda’s.

“
Hey girl! Morgan said
you’ve already left town on your vacation! I thought we were going
to have coffee this morning before you left? Well, knowing me I got
the times mixed up and missed my chance to say goodbye. I’ll miss
you terribly, but I know you need some time at home. Call me
sometime if you feel like chatting‌—‌oh, hold on. Someone wants to
say hi.”

“
Oh no, I don’t‌—‌” Tracey
stopped herself, realizing she was talking to a machine.

“
Hi, Taycee!”

Tracey smiled with relief as she
listened to the voice of three-year-old Aaron Thompson.

“
Where are you go? Come
see me, Taycee. Come my house?”

She pressed her lips together,
visualizing the little guy in Amanda’s arms, his big brown eyes and
thick head of blond hair so like his mother’s.

“
Mommy, why Taycee not
talk?”