Chapter Thirty-One
The emptiness of the farmhouse seeped into the loneliest parts of Beth’s soul. After too many long minutes crying on the floor of the hidden room, her phone rang, forcing her to pull herself together. A number she didn’t recognize showed up on the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Beth? It’s Dina. I just got your email about the barn sale.”
Beth had sent that email weeks ago.
“It got lost in our server—long story—anyway, I had my team work something up. A logo, a website and an ad campaign. Look it over and send me the names of the vendors so I can put the finishing touches on it and make it live. I would say send me your changes, but the sale is in just a couple of weeks. We should probably just go with it as it is.”
“Dina, you shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble.” She thought about the gossip she’d heard and wondered if it was true. And if Harrison was leaving her, how was Dina handling it?
Her own heart ached at the thought of losing Drew—and their relationship had barely begun.
“I told you, I think it’s brilliant what you’re doing. I want to help if I can.”
“Well, thanks. I haven’t had much time to put anything like this together.”
“You want me to handle it?”
Beth straightened. “Handle?”
“All the advertising. The whole thing. I’ll get the word out for you. We’ll pack that place.”
Beth didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t good at asking for help—especially from someone like Dina.
“It would mean a lot to me if I could help with this, Beth. No charge.”
She heard the sadness in Dina’s voice. She needed something to keep her mind occupied—to help her stop thinking about her impending divorce.
Beth’s thoughts turned to Drew, the way he’d worked around here as if his life depended on it.
And maybe it did. Maybe he needed this place as much as it needed him.
Had she taken that from him?
“Beth?”
“What? Oh, sorry. I would really appreciate your help, Dina. I’ll look at what you sent over, and if you could get the word out, well, we’d be really grateful.”
“Anything for Fairwind Farm. I mean it. Think of me as your in-house ad agency. I’m here whenever you need me. Once you guys get up and running again, we can discuss pricing and I’ll work with your budget, I promise.” Dina sounded happy—and Beth had to admit, genuine. “Thanks, Beth.”
The words hung between them—simple, yet so full of meaning.
“No, thank you,” Beth said.
After she hung up, she set her phone down and walked outside. The day had turned gray. Clouds hung low and dark in the sky.
Good. Rain was just what the ground needed.
A clean, fresh start would be good for them all.
She did a quick survey of the barn. They’d made so much progress. The new and improved Fairwind Farm Market would be a huge success. They might even open this fall. All thanks to Drew.
And she’d driven him away.
She trudged through the open field toward the little chapel at the back of the property, turning over unwanted thoughts in her mind.
Why hadn’t Drew just been honest from the start? Why couldn’t he have told her who he was instead of waiting until she’d found out, searching in the old man’s closet?
It was humiliating that he didn’t trust her when she’d shared so much with him.
Life had her head all turned around. What was she doing here? How could this be the “more” she’d been looking for? How could an old run-down farm be her “why”?
Birdie was wrong. Beth didn’t belong here at all. She wasn’t a hometown girl.
Why am I here at all, Lord?
She unlocked the chapel with the little key above the door and went inside just as a rumble of thunder made its way across the vast midwestern sky. Beth closed the door and inhaled a deep, lonely breath.
Why had she come here? What did she hope to find waiting for her? Birdie’s words filled her mind:
“There’s something deep down within us, isn’t there, that just wants to be known?”
She sat with the memory for a moment.
Had she ever let anyone know her?
She’d been too afraid. All this time, she’d hidden the truth from her family the same way Drew had hidden it from her, because she didn’t want them to think less of her. She was ashamed, and she didn’t want to admit any of it to the people she’d hurt. But even before that—had she ever let anyone know her for who she really was?
I know you.
The words welled up from the depths of her soul.
You are known.
He knew her. He knew her and He loved her anyway.
“Having a ‘why’ isn’t the same as having something to prove.”
Birdie’s words echoed in her mind again.
“You can’t earn love. Or forgiveness. Or grace. Those things are gifts. You just have to reach out and take them.”
Beth opened the prayer journal and turned to the last page, where Sonya had written the most stirring prayer about her daughter, about the peace she’d found in spite of her circumstances. Beth had asked for that peace, and she supposed she’d expected God to wave a magic wand over her, granting her wish.
What if Birdie was right? What if peace and forgiveness and love really were gifts? What if God had been waiting for her to reach out and take them this whole time?
Could it really be that simple?
Beth stared at the blank page near the back of the journal. Did she even know how to accept something she hadn’t earned?
She picked up the pen tucked inside the worn book. Somehow, adding her own handwriting to this precious journal made her nervous. Like she didn’t deserve to be part of the group of women who’d already breathed their hearts’ desires onto its pages. She poised the pen over the paper.
Heavenly Father,
She’d start her prayer the same way the women before had started theirs. Had Sonya stopped at this point, taken a moment to breathe in the weight of her own prayers?
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 word us and changed it to me, 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.