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  Twenty or thirty minutes ago, his dream for expansion had been within reach. Twenty or thirty minutes ago, the possibilities had seemed endless. And twenty or thirty minutes ago, he’d believed his best friend from childhood was alive and well in Miami.

  It was difficult to make sense of the reality, to grasp the fact he’d been monumentally wrong about all of it.

  “What am I going to do now?” he asked himself and the sky.

  “Derek,” Gran said from behind him, “I’m sorry.”

  “Chad was only thirty-two.” He shook his head. “How can he be dead?”

  “Death is always a surprise to us, no matter when it comes.”

  And that was the moment the guilt swept over him. Because it wasn’t just Chad he’d thought of. He’d thought of himself—of his farm and the lost possibilities—and the disappointment had tasted bitter on his tongue.

  “It’s all right, Derek,” his grandmother said softly. “I understand. ‘Hope deferred makes the heart sick.’”

  He turned toward her. “The thing is, Gran, Chad was right to do what he did with his property. I know that in my head. I really do. The place should go to his daughter and Brooklyn. But it sure feels like it’s ruined everything for me. I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

  What would he do? Decide to be satisfied with his three acres and what he could do with it? Give up on the idea of expanding and experimenting, of farming full time?

  “You’ll wait to see what the Lord wants of you,” Gran said.

  Derek barely heard her as disappointment washed over him again. Buying the Hallston property had felt like a done deal. He’d had the word of a friend. But that hadn’t been enough. He should have gotten it in writing. Or he should have borrowed the down payment from a family member. Maybe his dad would have given it to him, but Derek had been too proud to ask. He’d wanted to do this himself. Look where that got him.

  Resentment followed hard on the heels of disappointment. Brooklyn Myers had always been trouble. At least that’s what Derek had thought from the moment Chad first took notice of her. After that, Derek had become the proverbial third wheel. He blamed Brooklyn for the change in his relationship with his best friend, and he blamed her for making Chad take her away from Thunder Creek.

  “And now she’s coming between me and the prime ten acres of Hallston land I was counting on,” he muttered.

  There it was again. That twinge of guilt.

  “Derek, what about Chad’s other request?”

  He met Gran’s gaze.

  “About Alycia needing a father figure in her life.”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “What can I do about it? She’s not here.” He frowned. “The letter didn’t say where they’re living now, but I remember that Brooklyn couldn’t wait to get away from Thunder Creek.”

  He couldn’t help it. No matter how much he knew he should focus on more important things—the death of his friend, the idea of becoming a surrogate father figure—his thoughts turned like a beacon toward the land sitting in front of him. And despite his guilt, hope flickered in his chest.

  “Maybe she won’t even come back. Maybe she’ll just sell the place.”

  And therein lay the million-dollar question. Was it possible this situation could be salvaged? Was there a chance he could buy the Hallston property from Chad’s widow instead of from Chad himself?

  He supposed time would tell.

  Chapter 3

  JUNE

  With every passing mile, Brooklyn felt the knots in her stomach twist and tighten. Even Alycia’s bright chatter couldn’t erase the growing anxiety inside her. More than once during the six-hour drive, she’d been tempted to stop, turn the old car around, and return to Reno.

  But she couldn’t do it. For Alycia’s sake, if not her own, she couldn’t do it. Besides, there was nothing to go back to. She’d let her apartment go. She’d quit her job. She’d made her decision already. She and Alycia were headed to Idaho to make new lives for themselves. As Esther said, God had answered her prayers by opening an unexpected door . . . and by giving her a new dream for the future.

  Literally a new dream. She’d awakened one night, about two weeks after receiving that overnight envelope from Mr. Thurber, with the dream so clear in her mind it had felt as if she could reach out and touch it. That big old house of the Hallstons would make an ideal bed-and-breakfast. Brooklyn had spent the next several weeks making plans, researching at the library, estimating costs. It would take time and money and plenty of labor, but it could be done. Perhaps not this year. Maybe not even the next. But it could be done.

  “How much longer, Mom?”

  Pulled from her thoughts, Brooklyn glanced into the rearview mirror at Alycia, who sat in the backseat surrounded by the remaining trappings of their lives, all boxed and bagged up. “Not long. Less than an hour, I think. We’re in Idaho now.”

  “We are?” Excited, Alycia set down the Kindle Fire—a going-away present from Esther—and peered out the nearby window. After a short while, she sat back with a huff. “It doesn’t look any different than it did before.”

  Her daughter was right. There had been little to see except sagebrush and desert for much of the drive. “As soon as we reach the river,” she answered, “you’ll begin to see farms and orchards. It’s pretty.” At least she remembered it as being pretty. But she supposed a lot could change in eleven years.

  Brooklyn had been seventeen when she and Chad eloped, and she hadn’t been back since. When she’d called her dad to tell him she was married, he’d made it clear she wouldn’t be welcome in Thunder Creek ever again. She knew him well, knew he’d meant it. But when she’d found herself alone and pregnant not many months later, she’d called a second time, hoping for a change of heart. There hadn’t been one. He’d told her she was as worthless as her mother and to never come back.

  Too bad that’s how he feels, because here we come.

  The words in her head sounded brave. But other words tried to follow them. Other thoughts tried to remind her that she’d always been unwanted. By her mom. By her dad. Even by Chad in the end. More words told her she was a failure. She’d failed in the past. She would fail again in the future.

  “But I’m not that girl anymore,” she whispered. “I’m not that girl.”

  Brooklyn’s anxiety eased a little. She would not let uncertainty change her course. She would not let fear rule her heart. She wouldn’t be ruled by her past.

  “Remember, you are a new creation in Christ.” Esther’s voice in her head was so clear—and with the memory came a sharp longing for her dear friend. “God has brought you this far. He will take you on from here. Never doubt it. Not even for an instant.”

  The remainder of her apprehension drained away. She drew in a deep breath, along with renewed resolve.

  She glanced again into the rearview mirror. “How about some music, honey? If we sing along, maybe the trip will go faster.”

  “Okay.” Alycia closed the cover on the tablet a second time. “Sure.”

  Brooklyn turned on the car’s stereo, adjusted the dial to a station with music she and Alycia would both recognize, and let the miles slip away.

  Forty minutes later, she began to recognize farmhouses and fruit orchards. She turned down the volume on the radio. “Alycia, see that house?” She pointed to it. “My fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Edwards, lived there. She was one of my favorite teachers.”

  “I’m gonna be in fifth grade when school starts. Maybe she’ll be my teacher too.”

  “Maybe.” Of course, Mrs. Edwards might not live in Thunder Creek any longer, for all Brooklyn knew.

  “Mom, look over there! Horses! There’s so many of them.”

  A quick glance in the mirror told her the direction to look. And her daughter was right. There were quite a few of them. Twenty or so, grazing in a fenced pasture, the grass a deep green thanks to irrigation waters from the Snake River.

  She recalled driving this same section of road on a
spring night, stars twinkling in a moonless sky. Chad’s arm had been around her shoulders as he steered the pickup with his left hand. “Let’s get out of here, Brook,” he’d said. “You and me. There’s nothing to keep us here. I’m tired of living in this hick town. Let’s have an adventure, you and me.”

  How surprisingly easy it had been for her to agree to go with him. It hadn’t mattered where. Not as long as he loved her.

  Only he hadn’t loved her. Not really. And if she was honest with herself, maybe she hadn’t truly loved him. Maybe she’d been in love with the idea of being in love. Maybe she’d wanted desperately for someone—anyone—to love her in return and she’d made herself believe that someone was Chad Hallston.

  “Mom, do you think I can get a horse?”

  Brooklyn shook off thoughts of Chad. The memories only made her sad, especially now that he was dead. Glancing again at the mirror, she answered, “I don’t know, Alycia. It costs a lot of money to keep a horse.”

  “But if—”

  “Honey, you’ll have to wait. Maybe someday when you’re older, but not yet. We just don’t have the money for now.”

  The car crested a rise in the highway, and Thunder Creek came into view. Picturesque from this viewpoint, the town was home to about three thousand people, most of them lifelong residents. Victorian-style houses as well as 1950s bungalows lined a perfect grid of streets shaded by tall trees.

  It looked exactly the way she remembered it.

  She swallowed. “There it is, honey. There’s Thunder Creek.”

  “Where? I can’t see.” Alycia leaned forward, trying to peer between the two front seats.

  “Wait a second. You’ll be able to see it out your side window when the road curves.”

  No more had the words left her lips than the engine made a strange sound—something like a cough, followed by a gasp—and then died.

  “No. No-no-no-no-no-no.”

  Amidst the litany of her denial, she steered the old car to the side of the road. It coasted to the bottom of the hill and came to a stop. For a moment, she just sat there.

  “Mom? What happened? Why’d you stop?”

  Rather than answer, Brooklyn tried turning the key.

  Nothing.

  She tried again. Still nothing. Dead. Dead. Dead.

  With a sigh, she sat back and assessed the situation. It could have been worse, she told herself. This could have happened back in Nevada. It could have happened in the middle of nowhere instead of within walking distance of Thunder Creek.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. The engine isn’t working. We’re going to have to walk the rest of the way.” Better walking than calling for a tow truck she couldn’t afford.

  “Walk?” Thankfully, Alycia sounded pleased with the prospect. Anything to get out of the car after all these hours.

  Brooklyn opened the driver-side door. “Stay put until I come around.” She checked behind her for traffic, although this stretch of highway wasn’t exactly busy at any time of day. Or it hadn’t used to be, anyway. Seeing nothing, she got out and hurried around to the passenger side of the car.

  “We’ll leave our things here and come back for it all as soon as we can. It’ll be all right until then.”

  Alycia slid out of the backseat, bringing the Fire with her.

  Out of habit, Brooklyn locked the car doors before taking her daughter by the hand. They began walking, but before they’d gone more than a few yards, she heard the crunch of tires on gravel and looked behind her. A black SUV—a sheriff’s vehicle—rolled to a stop behind her disabled automobile. Relief rushed through her.

  Moments later, a sheriff’s deputy unfolded himself from behind the wheel. As he straightened, he tugged at the brim of his black baseball cap. He was tall, over six feet, and broad shouldered. He looked like a man who could solve problems.

  But as the deputy took his first couple of strides toward her, Brooklyn felt her nerves erupt in tension. Of all people . . .

  “Derek Johnson.”

  Recognition crossed his face an instant later, and he hesitated. Then, his jaw hardening a little, he continued toward her. “Brooklyn Myers,” he said when he stopped again. “I hadn’t heard you were coming.” His gaze flicked to her daughter. “You must be Alycia.”

  Brooklyn’s eyes widened. How did he know her daughter’s name?

  Alycia nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said softly.

  “I’m Deputy Johnson.” He paused before adding, “A friend of your mom’s.”

  A friend? Not the way she remembered it. He’d been Chad’s friend but had never seemed to care much for Brooklyn. Tolerated was a more accurate term.

  “Trouble with your car?” he asked, looking at her again. There seemed to be an accusation in that single word. As if he’d added, “You’re always in some kind of trouble, Brooklyn.”

  “The engine died.” She tilted her chin. “It wouldn’t restart.”

  “Out of gas?”

  Insulted by the question, she had to work to keep the irritation out of her voice. “No. There’s still plenty of fuel in the tank.”

  “Well, let me have a look. See if I can find what’s wrong.”

  With more than a little reluctance, she removed the car key from the ring and handed it to him.

  After he’d walked away, Alycia tugged on Brooklyn’s hand. “How did he know my name?”

  “I suppose your dad told him.” She frowned, wondering if she’d guessed right. But how else could he have known? Still, it was strange to think Chad had talked about the daughter he’d never met, never seen, never supported until his dying act.

  “Is he gonna fix the car?”

  “I don’t know, honey. Maybe.” She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze finding a large rock. “Let’s sit over there while we wait.”

  Half an hour later, when it was obvious nothing Derek had tried would make Brooklyn’s old clunker of a car start again, he put her and her daughter, along with some of their belongings, into the department’s black SUV and drove them the rest of the way into Thunder Creek.

  But when he turned onto Sharp Street, toward her girlhood home, Brooklyn protested. “Not to my dad’s house, Derek. Take us to the Hallston place instead.”

  “What about—”

  “We need to go to our home.”

  Their home. The words made him want to grind his teeth. Nonetheless, he turned the vehicle at the next street, then again at the next, and headed west, toward the edge of town. Houses soon thinned out. The road began to wind and curve, in opposition to the straight streets in town. Regular lots became acreages, which then became small farms. And at last, the Hallston house came into view. With its faded paint and its windows boarded over, it was far from the warm and welcoming home it had been when Chad’s parents were alive, back when Derek and his best friend had run in and out of that front door countless times a day.

  “Oh,” Brooklyn whispered. “It looks so sad.”

  He glanced over at her. “Nobody’s been inside of it since right after the funeral. The day after his parents were buried, Chad had the windows boarded over, the power turned off, and the pipes drained. Then he left town again.” Fair or not, Derek had blamed Brooklyn for Chad’s second departure, as he’d blamed her for most things involving his friend. “Although he was thinking about selling the place, last time we talked.”

  Selling it to me.

  “You were in touch with him?”

  “Rarely. But yes. Every now and then.”

  She was silent a few moments. “I’m glad.”

  He wasn’t sure what she meant, and he didn’t know how to respond. So he said nothing as he pulled the SUV into the horseshoe-shaped driveway, stopping near the sidewalk that led to the wraparound front porch. “Not sure what you’re going to find inside.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We’ll manage. Won’t we, Alycia?”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  Softly, Brooklyn added, “I’ve stayed in wors
e places.”

  Derek looked at her again, his mind suddenly full of questions, but he found no answers in her closed expression.

  He was tempted to drive away the instant she and her daughter got out of the SUV with their few belongings. Only he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t leave her there with boarded-over windows and who knew what on the inside. So he opened the driver door and got out too.

  Brooklyn and Alycia stood on the sidewalk, holding hands. He saw Brooklyn square her narrow shoulders and stiffen her spine. Then mother and daughter moved toward the porch, like soldiers marching into battle. An unwelcome feeling—sympathy, perhaps?—tugged at his chest, but he shoved it away and followed after the pair. He caught up with them in time to hear Alycia ask her mom, “How do we get in?”

  “I have the key, honey. It’s our home now. Your father left it to us. Remember?” She opened the small purse hanging from her shoulder. “Let’s see what it’s like inside. It’s been a long time since I was here.”

  She stuck the key in the lock. When she pushed the door open a moment later, cool air flowed out of the dim interior.

  More boyhood memories flooded Derek’s mind. Happy memories. And they made him wonder again what had gone so wrong for Chad.

  “I never imagined it had come to this,” Brooklyn said, drawing his attention to her again.

  Derek watched as she stepped through the open doorway.

  “It was such a beautiful home.” She moved deeper into the house, becoming a shadow within shadows. “Mrs. Hallston would be heartbroken to see it so uncared for.” Another pause, then, “It makes me want to cry.”

  Strange, the way her words affected him. They made him feel as if he were at fault in some way. Guilty because he hadn’t cared about the house. If he’d been able to buy the property, he would have torn it down, making room for more crops. He hadn’t given any thought to Marie Hallston and the home she’d made for her husband and son.