Betting on Love (5 page)

What do I care if the woman has a way with mechanics or if she can or can’t cook?
Again, he thought of Wyatt’s scolding that Drew was too competitive.
And why would I feel so threatened by the woman?

He picked up a small stone, walked closer to the pond, then threw it, watching as it skipped along the top of the water. All these thoughts weren’t getting him anywhere.

He needed to find someone to fix the dump truck, and he didn’t care if he was being silly—he had no intention of asking Melody Markwell for help. Instead, he’d just have to pay extra to have someone drive down from Lexington or Louisville.

He turned and headed toward his pickup. He’d have to go home and call around to find out who he needed to get to look at it. The sound of gravel crunching beneath tires drew his attention to the road. He smiled and waved when he realized it was his dad. Then he saw who was in the passenger seat.

He groaned and squinted to the heavens.
Lord, help me to be nice. I can’t stand that woman.

His dad stopped the truck then stepped out of the cab. He patted Drew’s shoulder a bit too hard. He understood his dad meant for him to be nice. If he could say it out loud, he’d assure his dad that though a war of fury was raging inside him that his dad would go behind his back like that, Drew would make every attempt to be a gentleman to the much-too-cocky and snappy gal. His dad cleared his throat. “Brought you some help for the dump truck.”

“I see that.” Drew tried to smile as he spit the words through clenched teeth. Everything in him wanted to tell her to go home. He couldn’t believe she’d thought he’d bring her out here for sinister motives. Not only did it go against everything he believed as a Christian, but it also hurt his pride that she would think him that kind of guy.

Melody hopped out of the cab then grabbed her toolbox from the bed of the truck. She walked toward Drew. “I’m doing this for your father, and only because he agreed not to sell his 1967 Mustang until I’ve had the chance to save enough money to buy it.”

Drew gasped. He looked at his dad. “Your Mustang? What? Dad, what is she talking about?”

His dad waved his hand in front of his face. “I was planning on selling her in a few months. Melody’s taken quite a liking to her, and I knew she’d be in good hands if Melody bought her off me.”

Melody headed to the dump truck. Drew stared at his dad. “Since when were you going to sell the Mustang?”

He nodded to the woman who now had the upper half of her body stuck underneath the steering wheel of the truck. “Since I saw that little lady’s eyes light up the first time she saw it.”

“But you love that car.”

His dad looked at him. “Really? You think so. I bought that thing three years ago, and I still haven’t taken the time to get her running. Melody’d have her on the road in a week’s time.”

“But you don’t just sell your car because—”

“No buts. I want to do it.” His dad crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against his pickup. He nodded toward Melody. “That woman’s a good girl. God wants her. She’s had a hard life, and she hasn’t decided yet if she trusts Him. In every way I can, I want to show her that she can.”

Drew watched as Melody worked on the truck. His dad’s words stung, and he had a feeling his dad intended for them to. He walked to Melody and cleared his throat. “Do you need any help?”

“Nope.” Her tone sounded tense, but he wasn’t sure if it was from concentration on the truck or frustration with him. He figured it was probably a little of both.

“I appreciate you doing this.” He tried to sound kind and sincere. At the moment, he felt more like a scolded little pup. “No problem.”

He heard a popping noise, and then she lifted herself out of the truck and swiped her hands along her hips. “All done. She should work for you now.”

“Are you kidding?” Drew looked at his watch. “That fast?”

She pointed toward the ignition. “Try her out.”

He hopped into the truck and turned the key. The oversized machine roared to life. He turned it off then started it again to ensure it wasn’t a fluke. Sure enough, it started up again. “I can’t believe it.”

He studied the ignition. He couldn’t tell what she’d done, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask her either.

Melody picked up her toolbox and walked back toward his dad’s pickup. Drew jumped out of the dump truck and grabbed her arm from behind. On what seemed to be a reflex, she jerked around with her fist clenched. He let her go but stared into her well-guarded eyes. “I just wanted to thank you.”

She relaxed a bit and nodded her head. “You’re welcome.”

Drew watched as she got into the truck beside his dad. She’d jumped like she was terrified of him. He’d never seen a woman so ready to fight at such a simple touch. She had a reason to fear being alone with a man. He saw it for the briefest moment in her eyes. His heart pounded, and anger flamed within him as he thought of what could have happened to her. He’d never allow a woman to be mistreated.

Melody hated Sundays. She’d been living with her aunt and uncle for several months, and the first few months she’d been able to talk her way out of going to church services with them. But the last three months, between Aunt Renee and Uncle Roy, and Gracie’s and Addy’s constant prodding, Melody had to succumb to their requests or listen to them harp at her for the rest of the week.

She wiped her sweaty palms against the sides of her faded blue jeans as they walked into the pristine white building. They may have been able to get her to go with them, but she absolutely refused to get dressed up. It had been hard enough wearing that silver silky thing in Addy and Nick’s wedding. There was no way she’d be dolling herself up for a place she didn’t even want to go.

“How ya doin’, Melody?” The plump and short, balding pastor grabbed her hand in a tight squeeze.

She nodded and plastered a smile to her face. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

He patted the top of her hand. “It always makes my day to see your pretty face come through those doors.”

Normally, Melody would deck a man for saying something like that to her, but the pastor’s expression and tone was so genuine and sweet, Melody had never been able to allow herself to get mad at him. “It’s good to be here.”

The words slipped from her mouth, even though she knew they were a lie. It wasn’t good to be there. Not to her. She hated sitting in that padded wooden pew beside her aunt and uncle and looking at the wooden cross the church people had hung above a pool of water. If she remembered right, her aunt had said it was a baptistery, whatever that meant.

She felt like such a hypocrite going to church. She didn’t believe in God. Well, maybe she believed in Him, but she didn’t think He was like this all-present, all-knowing, all-caring being like her family did. He certainly hadn’t been very present in her life.

If He was all the terrific things her aunt and uncle talked about, then why did He let her dad leave? Why did her mom work all the time and ignore her when she was home? Why did that guy try to rape her? Why did her mom up and decide to get married again?

Those were only the whys about her own life. She had a plethora of whys when it came to the really bad things that happened in the world. The people who were abused by their parents. The people who were murdered. Car accidents. Drug abuse. Drunk drivers. Hurricanes. Tornadoes. The list literally went on and on and on.

If God was in control of all the world—the whole wide world—and He loved the world so much that He gave His only Son, as her aunt liked to remind her, then Melody wanted to know why He allowed so many bad things to happen.

She shook her head. No. Either there wasn’t a God, or He just liked to keep Himself out of all the happenings of the world. Whichever of the two was true of God, she wanted nothing to do with Him.

The only being who could control her life was Melody. She had been the one who tried to fight off the man who attacked her. She had been the one who helped her mom in every way possible while growing up. She was the one who got herself through diesel mechanic school and then worked hard to be one of the best at it. She was the one in control, and she didn’t need to attend some feel-good church service to make her think all the things she couldn’t explain would be all right in the end.

“Hi, Melody.”

Melody turned at the sound of her name. She smiled at one of the older ladies in the church. Sweet, tiny Bonnie suffered from rheumatoid arthritis. Over the years, her hands had gnarled until she had almost no use of her individual fingers. Melody knew the woman had to be in pain most of, if not all, the time. Yet Bonnie always wore a smile on her face. She even painted wooden ornaments her husband cut for her. The woman was a true encouragement in never giving up, and her sweet spirit drew Melody.

“Hi, Bonnie.” Melody reached toward the woman and wrapped her arms around her. Bonnie felt more like a grandmother to her than a church acquaintance, and she made sitting through church every week worth it.

“I made these for all the ladies. I got them done a little early, but”—Bonnie held up a small flag pin—“they’re to wear on the Fourth of July.”

Melody took the wooden pin painted in red, white, and blue. “Thank you so much.”

Bonnie waved. “Church is getting ready to start. You have a good day.”

Melody stared at the pin as Bonnie walked to the other side of the sanctuary.
Why would God allow that kind woman to live in constant pain?

Why is that woman so kind?

Melody blinked at the second thought. She had no idea where it had come from. She wasn’t sure what to think about it either. Her brows furrowed as she lowered herself into her seat. She felt her aunt and uncle beside her, and she nodded to Gracie and Wyatt from across the aisle, but she felt perplexed by the thought. What did make Bonnie different?

She looked at her aunt and uncle. The music leader instructed the congregation to stand as the first song of the morning began. She never actually sang the words but mouthed along with everyone instead. She studied her aunt’s and uncle’s faces. She knew there was something different about them. Even when she was a girl, she could tell they had a peace, a joy that she didn’t understand.

Oh, she’d seen them fuss before. She remembered one time when she was a little girl and Uncle Roy hadn’t started the grill when Aunt Renee thought he had. She and her mom had all the food ready, and not only was the grill not hot, but it was out of propane as well. Aunt Renee was not happy, and she made sure her husband knew it. But even then, the way they handled their fight, they were different.

The music finally ended, and Melody sat and prepared herself to listen to their preacher for forty-five minutes or so. Today one of the women walked to the podium and picked up the microphone. Music started, and she began to sing. She had the most beautiful, soothing voice, and Melody was instantly drawn into the song. Something about being able to call down angels to destroy everything, but instead Jesus had died for all of us.

The song ended, and Aunt Renee leaned over and swiped moisture from her eye. “I love that song, and no one sings it like Tammie.”

Melody nodded but continued to stare at the front of the church. This time the preacher did walk to the podium. Most of the time, she tried to envision the engine of whatever vehicle she needed to work on. Today, he talked about storms of life and how we wouldn’t know the answers to all our questions this side of heaven. “Some things we just won’t understand,” the pastor’s voice boomed through the sanctuary.

Why not, God? Why won’t You tell us?

She inwardly chided herself for talking to a being that she wasn’t completely convinced existed. She looked around her at all the people she’d met over the last few months. Spying Drew and his parents on her right, she studied him. He’d been on her like grease on a muffler practically since the day she’d moved to River Run. He didn’t like her mechanical know-how one bit. It was obvious he was threatened by her. But he was supposed to be a Christian as well.

She thought about him thanking her when she fixed his dump truck and about how offended he’d looked when she’d accused him of taking her to his homesite alone for wrong reasons. He was gruff and grumpy, but if she were honest, he’d never been cruel to her.

“Let me close with what Jesus told us in John 16:33.” The pastor’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned her attention back to him. “God’s Word says, ‘I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.’ ”

Melody bowed her head as the pastor led the congregation in prayer. Her mind whirled with everything she’d heard this morning. It was more than she wanted to think about. In fact, a slight headache had started to pulse above her left eye.

So God warned them they’d have trouble. Told everyone it was part of life on earth. But that didn’t explain why. She needed to understand why. The pulse above her eye quickened. Actually, she needed a nap.

Once the service had been dismissed, her body tightened when Drew started to walk toward them. He extended his hand to her. Knowing she couldn’t be rude in front of everyone, she shook his hand. He was so much bigger and stronger than she. Something about that made her feel uncomfortable and protected at the same time.