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.
Drew sighed. He never should’ve stopped here. It wasn’t like Willow Grove had a sketch artist anyway.
Behind them, garbled voices sounded on the police scanner, and the phone rang.
“People get so upset whenever there’s a storm.” The woman plodded back to her desk. “You wouldn’t believe what they’re like when it snows.”
She picked up the phone. “This is Nancy.”
Nancy. He’d forgotten her name, too distracted by the hive of red hair atop her head.
“Slow down,” Nancy said into the receiver. “Are you sure?”
The scanner went off now in a steady stream, like audible commotion. Drew listened more carefully.
“A tornado has touched down just west of Willow Grove. I repeat, a tornado has been spotted on the ground just west of Willow Grove.”
Drew glanced at Nancy as the color drained from her cheeks. She hung up the phone. “We need to take cover.”
Outside, a tornado siren went off.
“Get your dog, and let’s go to the basement,” she said. “They’re going on the airwaves now to tell everyone to get underground.”
Drew’s thoughts spun back to Fairwind. He’d left in such a hurry, he hadn’t cleaned up any of the rotted wood outside the barn where he’d been working earlier that day. If the winds were strong enough, those beams could destroy the main barn.
Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’d been honest when he’d said he was invested now. Not only because of all the time he’d spent on the place, but because he’d fallen hopelessly in love with its owner.
Beth. Did she even know about the tornado?
He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed her number. After five rings, it went to voice mail.
“We should go.” Nancy stood near a door at the back of the station.
“You go ahead,” Drew said. “I need to go check on someone.” Fairwind was on the east side of town. If he hurried, he could beat the storm. Maybe.
“Are you crazy? This isn’t a drill. We have a confirmed twister on the ground. It’s headed straight for town.”
“I know.” Drew hit “Redial” on his phone. “I need to hurry. Thanks, Nancy.”
Still no answer on Beth’s phone. Where was she? This wasn’t the best time for her to be stubborn and refuse his calls.
He rushed out to his truck and pulled himself inside, rain dripping off the ends of his hair and onto his jeans.
Roxie barked, riled up from the thunder.
“I know, Rox. We’ve gotta hurry.”
He drove the now-familiar highway toward Fairwind, trying not to think about the fact that Beth could still be sorting through clothing and linens on the second floor of the farmhouse. She could be in the yard, pulling in the lawn chairs. She could be in real danger. And it was possible she had no idea. Out there, she wouldn’t have heard the tornado siren.
He mentally beat himself up for leaving the way he had as he listened to her outgoing voice-mail message for the third time.
Rain came down in sheets now, forcing him to slow down. Behind him, the sky had turned an ugly shade of green, the color of an old bruise.
And it didn’t look good.
“Come on, Beth.” He dialed again as Roxie whined in the passenger seat. Beth hardly ever went anywhere without her phone. What if something had happened to her? What if she’d gotten hurt and there was no one there to help?
He tried not to think the worst and focused instead on the dark road in front of him. When he finally made the turn that led to Fairwind, his heart kept time with the frantic windshield wipers.
Maybe she’d lost service. That was possible. He glanced at his own phone and saw four bars. His heart dropped.
Beth’s car still sat in the driveway, the same place it had been when he’d left earlier that day. Maybe she’d taken cover in the cellar? Drew pulled his truck alongside Beth’s Audi and killed the engine. He pulled his hat down lower and turned to Roxie.
“Ready, girl?”
As he opened the door, the rain, which now came down diagonally, instantly drenched him on one side. He hurried the dog out of the truck, slammed the door and ran toward the farmhouse, the wind whipping torrents of rain against his face and body.
He raced to the porch and pushed open the front door, slamming it closed behind him. He ordered Roxie to stay in the entryway—no sense in both of them drenching the place.
Inside, the house stood quiet.
“Beth?”
No answer.
“Stay here,” Drew said to Roxie as he started checking every room of the house, calling Beth’s name in each one. In the master bedroom, he tried not to replay the conversation they’d had earlier that day.
He’d hurt her—and then he’d left, like the coward he was.
When will you ever do the hard thing?
He opened the door of the hidden room, just to be sure. Beth’s phone sat on the table, displaying several missed calls. He took it, then checked the dusty old basement in the hope that she’d been smart and taken cover.
There was no sign of her. Panic settled in his heart. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Beth.
Drew called Roxie into the kitchen, where she turned in circles, her wet fur dripping on the linoleum floor.
“Where is she, girl?”
He rushed outside and scanned the yard. A quick pass through the main barn told him it was secure, but that pile of rotted wood behind it was still a huge concern. He couldn’t stand the thought that the mess he’d left behind could damage the buildings they’d worked so hard to restore.
He raced back behind the main barn, but Beth was nowhere to be seen.
“Come on, Beth, where are you?” He tapped his hand on his thigh, staring out across the yard. She had to be out there somewhere.
He hurried on into a clearing at the back of the property. The little chapel came into view. If she was upset, it made sense she’d go there. To get some perspective. Maybe to pray. He ran toward the church as the wind whipped through the trees, and the rain seemed to fall from every direction. He kept his head down and followed the sound of Roxie’s barking. Thunder and lightning erupted overhead, and he could think only about the muffled voices on the police scanner.
What if a tornado whipped through Fairwind? It could take the entire farm all at once. And if Beth wasn’t prepared for it—it could kill her.
He had to find her. He had to keep her safe.
Roxie reached the chapel before Drew. She stood outside the door and barked. Beth had to be inside. He reached the door just as hail started pelting the rooftop. On the ground, golf-ball-sized bits of ice bounced into the grass. Drew pulled open the door, fighting against the force of the wind. He motioned to Roxie to go inside, though he knew the chapel was hardly a safe place to weather a storm this powerful.
The door slammed open for the second time since Beth had taken cover underneath a pew at the front of the little chapel. She’d left her phone back in the house, but she’d lived in Illinois long enough to know this was no ordinary storm.
Twice, she’d almost made a run for it, but the thunder, lightning and wind forced her to stay put.
Outside, another crash vibrated the floor. What had started as a calm retreat from the day had turned into a white-knuckled hideout, reminding her of all the times she and Molly had hidden under their covers with flashlights, waiting for storms to blow over.
“Beth?”
Drew’s voice cut through the silence. She crawled out from under the pew and met his eyes. He stood in the doorway, rainwater pooling beneath him, his face, arms and hair wet.
“What are you doing here?” She stood.
His breaths came quick. He’d been running. “There was a tornado on the other side of town.”
“Is anyone hurt?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Are you okay?” He moved toward her, holding up her phone. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
The sky outside flashed with the kind of lightning that didn’t have to pause for effect. Thunder followed immediately.
“I’m fine,” she said, assuming he meant physically. “You’re drenched.”
“It’s raining out,” he said dryly. He watched her for a long moment, and she saw the relief loosen his shoulders. “You’re okay.” He took another step toward her, cautious, as if asking for permission.
“I’m fine.” Beth stared at the floor. “Are you okay?”
He must’ve felt the distance she put between them. He dropped onto the back pew and rubbed his temples, eyes closed. “I will be.”
She wanted to help him—to let him off the hook for not telling her everything right from the start. Any shred of suspicion or anger had been pulled out of her and replaced with understanding.
Outside, the sound of wood cracking and splitting drew them both toward the window. Drew got there first and quickly shoved Beth behind him. “Get back.”
More cracking wood, more vibrations from the thunder.
He stepped back from the glass. “I think we just lost a tree.”
Beth paced. “Tornado?”
He turned. “I’m not sure. But it’s not safe in here. This is the oldest building on the property.”
Roxie barked.
Fear rose inside her. “What do we do? We can’t leave.”
“I know. We have to wait it out.” He strode back toward Beth. “Move to the center of the room, away from the windows. Back under the pews.”
Beth did as she was told while Drew tried to calm Roxie down, pulling her underneath the wooden benches.
When he settled in, he was lying on his side, facing her, one arm propping his head up off the ground. He took her hand, and somehow that simple gesture made her feel safe. As if he’d just pledged to keep her that way.
Outside, the storm raged, but Beth’s fear had faded. She’d given her life, this farm, Drew—all of it to God. That meant He was in control of whatever happened.
She’d spent too long being angry with Him; it was time to let it all go. To lay it down. To find her “why.”
To rest in the peace that He promised.
Drew had a faraway look in his eyes—so close, and yet still just out of reach. She studied his face, his ice-blue eyes, the scar on his chin. She wanted to know how he’d gotten it. She wanted to know how often he shaved and if he used an electric razor. She wanted to know how he celebrated Christmas and when his next birthday would be. She wanted to know everything about him, and she’d wait as long as he needed her to.
Because words weren’t easy for this man.
But loving was. He was good and safe and kind.
She never should’ve implied otherwise.
Lying on the floor of the old chapel in the woods, it was as if God was giving her a picture of the lonely life Drew Barlow had led, carrying a guilt that was never his to bear.
She saw that ten-year-old boy in the man at her side, and she knew what he needed was unconditional love. He needed the reassurance that when the storm that raged inside him finally ended, leaving the grass greener and the flowers a shade more vivid, she’d still be there. No judgment. No questions.
The same kind of unconditional love she’d been given. It was a gift—and she wanted to learn to give it freely.
To be known and still loved without question. Isn’t that what we all want?
Beth had been staring at Drew’s chest, aware he wasn’t avoiding her eyes. She felt his gaze on her. Another crash of thunder shook the chapel, but she barely noticed. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his. She reached out and let her hand rest on Drew’s stubbled cheek, certain that somewhere within him was the heart of the boy who’d lost hope all those years ago.
And she loved him. Deeply and without strings. Even if it made her weak. Even if he didn’t love her back. Even if he hadn’t told her every single secret he kept.
And she left the rest in God’s hands.