Page 121 of Hometown Girl

I’m not like the other women who’ve sat in this little chapel and shared their prayers on the pages of this sacred book. I’m much more flawed. I realize now, in my thirtieth year, that I’ve wasted so much time on things that have no real value. I’ve worked and strived and tried so hard to become who I thought I was supposed to be, but really, in doing those things, I lost myself.

I know peace and unconditional love—they’re gifts You’ve given us.

She stopped and stared at the words she’d written, pen still at the ready. She crossed out the wordusand changed it tome, then read the last sentence aloud.

“I know peace and unconditional love—they’re gifts You’ve given me.” She paused to let the words permeate her soul. Tears sprang to her eyes, as if she’d realized the statement’s value only in that moment.

She continued to write:

Help me receive the gifts You’ve given without feeling so unworthy all the time. I want to be known. I want to know that I’m loved. And I want to give love as freely as You do, without expectation. Genuine and real.

Her pen stopped moving, as if on its own.

She didn’t know how to receive love, and she didn’t know how to offer love as a stringless gift. Look at how she’d driven Drew away. She’d been so selfish, she hadn’t even seen his pain.

Pain that had been so evident from the first day he’d started working at the farm.

He’d been looking for the same thing she had been—a second chance. He’d felt, like she had, that he could do more.

And now he was gone. Because of her.

Lord, let me love the way You’ve loved me. Even in my ugliest, darkest moments. Even when I don’t deserve it. Show me the way to offer that kind of love.

Show me my “why,” Lord. I have a feeling it’s not at all what I thought it was. Maybe I am meant to be here—at least for now—living a simple life and connecting people. Is that what You want from me? For Fairwind?

My life is Yours. This beautiful farm is Yours.

Help us to make it what You want it to be.

Amen.

As she put the pen back inside the book, the thunder rolled outside, the storm approaching much more quickly than she’d expected. Rain pounded on the chapel roof, and Beth sighed, knowing she’d have to wait it out or get soaked. She opened the door, leaning over for a glimpse of the driveway, but hers was the only car she could see. Everyone else had gone.

The wind kicked up, yanking the door out of her hand. She grabbed it and pulled it closed. The room that had felt like a sanctuary now felt like a prison.

Maybe she wasn’t finished here.

She sat down on one of the wooden pews. As the trees behind the church brushed across the windows, Beth whispered a prayer for Drew. He hadn’t been able to talk about whatever it was he’d seen that day, but she understood a little bit better now. Like her, he’d been working for the one thing that had already been given—forgiveness.

“Use me to help him see that, Lord.”

Beth closed her eyes, listened to the rain and let peace wash over her, believing for the first time ever that everything just might be okay—whether she worked for it or not.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Drew sat in a folding chair across from Bishop’s desk at the Willow Grove Police Station, waiting for the officer to return from patrol.

Four desks were positioned in haphazard fashion around the room, and he was pretty sure the woman who’d escorted him back here still stared at him from her desk at the entrance, but he pretended not to notice. She seemed to think Bishop would be right back, but Drew had already been waiting fifteen minutes, and there was no indication Bishop even knew he had a visitor.

Every so often, the police scanner came to life. In the time he’d been sitting there, he’d heard reports of a stray dog running down the highway and the ice cream truck’s new route. This place likely never saw much excitement, but he supposed that’s how most of the people who lived here preferred it.

Outside, the sky had grown dark, no trace of blue underneath the thick gray clouds.

“Hope your windows aren’t down,” the woman called back. She stood at the front window.

Drew joined her just as big, full drops of rain started to hit the pavement. Roxie stood on the front seat of his truck, barking out the partially cracked window.

“Someone doesn’t like storms,” the woman said, watching the dog.

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