Page 34 of The Inn Dilemma

A feeling of rightness fills me.

Me: For sure. What were you thinking?

Axel: Originally, I thought maybe something to go with the bookshelves Christian got her, but now I’m second-guessing myself. Any ideas?

Me: Let me think on it. If you want to, come over later and we can brainstorm.

Axel: Cool. I can be over in an hour.

Me: See you then.

“Maybe that’s part of it,” I think out loud.

Over the next half hour, I pour back over those same verses, feeling the same sensation as before and hearing that same word on repeat: restore.

“All right, Lord. I’m going to follow Your lead on this. Guide me on the path you have set before me. Light my way so I don’t fail.”

I close my Bible and head back to my cabin.

As I wait for Axel, I let the pups out, freshen their water, and pour some kibble into their bowls. They both devour their midday meal, then find a spot in the sunshine to curl up and nap.

They don’t snore for long before the rev of a motorcycle wakes them. They both hop up and jump around, excited to greet their new visitor.

Axel parks his bike in my gravel driveway next to mytruck. My own motorcycle is tucked safely in my makeshift garage shed.

He pulls off his helmet and sets it on the handlebars, then shakes out his hair.

“What’s up?” he says before both pups storm over to him and hop around. He leans down and pets them both.

“Nice bike. Is that the one you’ve been fixing up with Chris?”

His mouth pulls up in a proud, lopsided smile. “Yeah.”

“She looks and sounds great. You did good, kid.”

Axel stands a little taller. “Thanks.”

I whistle for the dogs, and they follow me and Axel into the cabin. After closing the door behind us, I head over to the desk tucked into the corner of my living room. It holds countless drawings of woodworking ideas I’ve come up with over the years. One sticks out from the bottom of a pile, and I tug it free.

Uncle Walt’s handwriting sends an unexpected wave of grief to crash over me. My shoulders tense, and Axel must notice because he walks over and asks, “What’s wrong?”

I clear my throat and mutter, “Nothing. Just found one of the sketches I made with my uncle.”

Axel gives me a look that tells me he knows how I feel. And he really does. He lost his dad not long ago and is still taking it hard. Roxy and Chris have done what they can to help lessen the blow, but there’s only so much that comfort can do. An ache remains, even years after the loss.

It feels like I’ve lost two dads. My biological dad and Uncle Walt—the man who stepped in to be a father figure and exceeded everything Dad didn’teven try to be.

Axel sidles up beside me and studies the page. “What is it?” he asks.

“It’s a bit of a camel in this state.”

Axel pulls back and gives me a confused stare. “A camel?”

“Something that combines a bunch of ideas without any of them actually going together well.”

“Oh. What’s it supposed to be?”

My lips quirk up at the memory of making this drawing.

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