Dylan's Faith: A Contemporary Christian Romance (Love's Enduring Promise Book 4) Read online

  As Trisha set my salad down in front of me, I felt a feeling of stupidity come over me. I really didn’t even want the salad. I had just ordered it to show her I’m healthy. Trying to impress a girl by what I’m eating? That was silly, I thought to myself. “Thank you,” I said, smiling at her. She grinned at me as she placed the steak in front of Chris.

  “This looks delicious, thank you,” Chris replied, picking up his silverware.

  “Enjoy,” she said, walking away from the table.

  Looking up at Chris, I saw his eyes begin to get that red glaze over them that they do when he’s getting buzzed on his way to being drunk. I reached for my water and took a drink. “You better slow down…”

  “I’ll be okay dude, don’t worry about me. This food will help soak it up, chill out.”

  As we ate our dinner we could hear the group of guys snickering from a distance. Judging by Chris’s cringing he must have been able to catch part of their conversation. “Are they talking about us?” I asked, leaning across the table.

  “They’re saying we’re a couple of hicks from the back country.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised. I tried to listen in on the table and I couldn’t hear anything over the music in the restaurant. “I’ll be right back.” Getting up from the booth, I headed towards the bathroom and stopped in the hallway to listen in on the table.

  “How’s the soup?” a guy at the table asked.

  “Fine,” another guy replied.

  “My steak is a little overdone, but it’s okay,” another guy added.

  Shaking my head I walked back to my table. Taking a seat back down with Chris, I said, “It's fine… they are just talking about their food.”

  Chris glared their direction as he replied, “I don’t think so. Who laughs about their food?”

  “Maybe someone said something funny? Just eat your food and ignore them.” I picked up my fork and began eating my salad. Chris laughed at me a little when he saw my less-than-satisfied expression as I ate my leafy green dinner.

  As we were leaving the restaurant, the guys from the table were out in the parking lot getting into their car. “What do you hicks do for fun?” The tall and muscular guy asked from over at his car.

  “Excuse me?” I said, stopping before I got into the truck.

  “I said what do you hicks do for fun out here?” He asked, smirking as he came over to the truck.

  Chris shut his door and joined my side with his arms crossed. He was drunk by now. Leaning over into my ear, he said, “Told you they called us hicks…”

  “You understand calling us hicks is offensive, right?” I asked, hoping the man didn’t mean to offend us.

  The man spat on the ground and laughed a little. “Hillbilly… whatever you inbreeds like to be called, I don’t really care.” He pushed my shoulder.

  “Don’t touch me,” I replied firmly.

  Chris stepped in between us and got up on his toes and into the man’s face. “You should leave.”

  The man laughed, looking down at Chris. “Or what?” The other couple of guys from his car came up behind him. He pushed Chris backwards, causing his step to stagger into me.

  Oh great, I thought to myself as Chris regained his balance. Cocking his arm back, Chris slugged the guy right in the gut and the fight started. One of the guys from the group charged me and I side stepped and clothes-lined him to the pavement. Another guy punched me in the face and I threw my elbow into another’s nose, causing it to instantly start bleeding and him to back off. Chris got slammed to the ground by the big guy and I came over and pushed the big guy off Chris, causing him to stagger.

  As I helped Chris up, he said, “Behind you!”

  Turning, I grabbed the guy I first laid out on the pavement and threw him by me right into the front of my truck. The bigger guy decked me in the face, causing my nose to start bleeding. Shaking my head, I cocked my arm back and slugged him in the face and Chris slugged him in the stomach.

  Suddenly Missy, the bar owner, came out cocking her shot gun and firing up into the sky, stopping us all in our tracks.

  “You best stop fighting in front of my restaurant or I’ll call the cops.”

  Holding up our hands, Chris and I backed away towards our truck while the other guys scrambled to get up and head over to their car. Keeping the gun pointed at the out-of-towners, Missy waited for both our vehicles to leave.

  Backing up out of the parking space, I said, “She’s going to tell Dad… We’re toast.”

  Missy was the owner of the Wagon Wheel and good friends with our father, Frank. They had a bit of a history and she was holding out on her true love, our father, coming back to her one day. She’d report all our shenanigans to him, always thinking she’d earn her way back into his good graces. But the only thing it ever accomplished, her telling our father about our fights, was a guarantee he’d be by to visit us the following day.

  “Why do we let him beat us up? We can so take him on…” Chris said on the drive back home.

  After wiping my nose of the blood with a napkin from the glove box, I replied, “And do what? Beat him up so he can go get a gun and just shoot us? Sounds like an awesome plan, Brother. He’s just trying to correct us like he did when we were kids.”

  “Could he really shoot us?” Chris asked.

  “He shot you in the shoulder, or did you forget that?”

  Chris got quiet. “It’s just stupid we can’t go to the Wagon Wheel without her telling on us… Just need to go into Spokane if we want to go eat and have a beer I guess.”

  “Yeah, let’s drive clear to Spokane just to have a drink with our meal. How about we just don’t fight? Or you don’t drink.” Looking in the mirror, I saw the blood running out of my nose and I felt another wave of stupidity rush over me. I could have stopped that fight from happening if we just got in the truck and left.

  CHAPTER 2

  December 02, 2010

  The next day our father, Frank came out to the house. Hearing the knock on the door froze us both in our footsteps. There was no way we were not going to get a little roughed up after last night’s fight. Shaking my head, I checked out the window to make sure Dad didn’t have a gun in his hand. He didn’t.

  Opening the door, I was surprised my father didn’t look angry. “What’s going on, Dad?”

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in, Boy?” He asked.

  Pushing open the screen door, I lowered my head as he stepped in. My heart was racing, as I feared what was to come of his visit. He looked around and then took a seat on the couch. “Look, we didn’t start that fight last night-” I began to explain, but he lifted a hand to stop me from talking.

  “I don’t care about the fight,” he said with a serious tone. “I’m done trying to whip you boys into shape. I have some news for you. Take a seat.” He looked over at Chris, who was standing in the doorway that led into the kitchen. “Come sit down, Son.”

  “What’s going on?” Chris asked, still trying to keep a length of distance between himself and Frank as he sat down in the recliner.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the Silverback.”

  The Silverback was the inn on the outskirts of Chattaroy that sat nestled up against a beautiful and private lake. Our father ran and operated it for the last twenty years. It was his pride and joy. He lived there, worked there and was all-consumed by the day-to-day operations. It had been that way ever since Mom died when we were just boys.

  “What about it?” I asked.

  “Your uncle Lenny’s going to be taking over it soon,” he replied, his eyes were glued to the floor. His voice seemed shaky and upset. This was a side of our father we never saw, and his statement made me worry.

  “What, why?” Chris asked, leaning in from his seat on the recliner.

  Looking up at us, he said, “I’m dying… I won’t be here for more than a few more months and I need someone to take over.” Dying? What? No. There wasn’t any possible way my father could be dying. He looked like
he always did.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I said, I’m dying…”

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked softly.

  “Degenerative heart failure…” he said before sighing heavily.

  “And you’ll die in three months?” I asked.

  “There isn’t an exact number, Son. I know it’s troubling.”

  “Dad…” I said softly. “Aren’t you scared? You don’t even look worried.”

  “I’m not going to sit here and talk about emotions.”

  “Of course you aren’t,” Chris replied curtly.

  “So anyways, your uncle Lenny will be taking over it.”

  My sadness over the fact my only parent was going to be gone soon was eclipsed by my anger that he would not be leaving Chris and I the inn. He was betraying us. Shaking my head, I replied, “That sucks you’re dying Dad… but you’re going with your brother over your own two sons.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Look at your face, Dylan.” He laughed sarcastically. “It’s busted up. You think you two idiots can handle running a business? You can’t go more than a few weeks without getting into a fight, let alone be responsible for something for once in your life.”

  “That’s not true. Look at this house. We bought this,” I retorted.

  “Yeah, with your grandmother’s inheritance money. Grats, you bought something.”

  “At least we didn’t just blow the money. You know what Dad? I’m sick of your ill-treatment towards us. You don’t even come around here unless it’s to teach us some twisted lesson. You don’t know us or our life,” I replied.

  “I’d beat the snot out of you for talking that way to me if I hadn’t had some real changes in my life recently… That’s beside the point, I know enough to know not to give either of you two real responsibility.”

  Chris remained quiet as he relaxed back into the recliner. He seemed more relieved with the fact he wasn’t getting roughed up by dad than he was upset about the inn or our dad dying.

  “This not fair! We’re your own flesh and blood!”

  “Don’t you raise your tone with me Dylan,” he said with a clenched jaw. “You know just as well as I do that Lenny’s a better fit.”

  Shaking my head, I could feel my blood boil inside. “That isn’t right, Dad, and you know it.”

  “It is what it is, Son, just drop it, please. I’m trying hard to control my anger with you boys right now. Let’s change the subject. What else is going on?” he asked.

  After saying a quick and silent prayer for strength in the moment and for my dad, I took a deep breath and let the Lord take away my frustrations. “I’m working on a three-pedestal dining room table.”

  “Three-pedestal?” He asked with an eyebrow raised. “I’d be curious to see it.”

  “It’s in the shop, I’ll show you.” I headed for the door and he followed close behind. Even though I loathed him at the moment, it didn’t remove my desire to make him proud.

  On the way back to the shop, he asked, “What made you decide to make a table this big?”

  Looking back over my shoulder, I said, “Levi asked me to do it for Floyd.”

  “Ahh… that makes sense. That fire obliterated that table of theirs.”

  “Yep.”

  Opening the shop door, we came in and I flipped the light on. Coming over to the table top, he slid the palm of his hand across the top. I waited anxiously for his comments as he inspected the groves and details of the table. He had done woodworking for a side hobby for as long as I could remember. He had crafted much of the furniture that now furnishes the rooms at the inn. He had an amazing talent when it came to wood crafting. “Come here,” he said sternly over at me.

  I walked over and looked to where he was pointing. “What is it?” I asked.

  “See that right there?” He asked.

  “Yeah?”

  He walked over to the other end of the table and motioned for me to join him. Then he pointed to another groove, “It doesn’t match that depth, this is shoddy work.”

  I was disheartened by his comment as I rubbed my index finger against the groove. “How is it outside of that?”

  “It’ll do,” he replied. “It’s flawed, but most people won’t catch it.”

  Nodding, my eyes stayed fixed on the groove. He noticed my disappointment in myself over the fact and patted my shoulder on the way back towards the shop door.

  “Just keep practicing son and you’ll get there.” Another sting by the lips of my father. Why couldn’t he just be proud of me? He said himself that not many people would notice it.

  He and I headed out of the shop and back towards the front of the house, but he stopped along the side of the house.

  “Hey Dylan, before we get back inside, I want to tell you something. But keep it between us, can you do that?” He asked.

  “Sure, Dad.”

  “I want you guys to have the inn… But your brother’s fighting is out of control. I know I’ve been hard on you two, but that was to help you push through anything that this life throws your way. That, and I felt the need to correct your behavior.”

  “I can handle it, Dad. I can run the inn with ease.”

  “I don’t think you can. You just can’t seem to give your brother a good letting alone, and running off to protect your brother is going to land you in big trouble one of these days.”

  “What if I do leave Chris alone? Can I have it then? I can show you before… you know…”

  Nodding, he replied, “I’d consider giving it to you. I want that inn to stay within our family more than anything, and you or both of you would be my first pick if I could trust you. But when I think about you running the inn right now I see you blowing it off and running down to the bar to pull your brother out of a fight… and then you are in jail and not at work… and it’s just not good. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  Smiling, he nodded. “Good. Let’s head back in. I need to tell you both some more about Lenny and his arrival at the inn.”

  Climbing the steps of the porch, we headed back in to join Chris in the living room. “Looks good, doesn’t it?” Chris asked as we took our seats back down.

  Frank nodded. “Lenny’s bringing an investment with him to the inn.”

  “What kind of investment?” I asked.

  “You know the inn has been in pretty rough shape and has needed a facelift for quite some time now,” Frank said. “The changes could help get more people to visit, which was all I ever wanted.”

  “Why would we care, Dad? We’re not getting the inn,” Chris snapped back at him.

  “Cool it Chris,” I said. “It’s still our family’s inn. Even if Lenny is running it we’re still going to be getting dividends on the shares we do have.”

  “Yep, and those shares will be worth more if we can get some good changes at the inn,” Frank added.

  “It’s not in that bad of shape that I recall,” Chris replied.

  Frank shook his head, “You haven’t been out there in a while. It is in pretty bad shape. We have loose floor boards, dirtiness here and there… and a lot of things are outdated and falling apart. It just needs some help getting back up to its full potential. He’s going to be investing in the Silverback’s future and leading that project soon.”

  I nodded. “That sounds… interesting. I’m a little worried what that might all entail. Do you think he can keep the feel of the inn in tact?”

  “I trust him,” Frank replied. “He’s my brother and we’ve had a long talk.” Looking at his watch, Frank said, “I better get going, I have an appointment in town with the doctor.”

  “Okay,” I replied delicately. I knew my father had no desire to talk about the heart failure or the fact he was going to be leaving earth soon. He was a very private man and he’d rather talk about the plan moving forward instead of the fact he wasn’t going to be around much longer. He was a planner at heart.

  Chris got up and headed upstairs wi
thout saying anything more to Dad. I patted my father on the shoulder and walked with him out to his truck.

  “Hey Dad,” I said. My voice was a little shaky, but I cleared my throat.

  Stopping, he looked at me, “Yes.”

  “Take care of yourself. And let Lenny know I want to help out with the renovations any way I can. It would be an honor.”

  He nodded. “I’ll let him know.”

  As he climbed into the cab of his truck, I thought to myself, why’s he have to keep such a strong composure? He’s dying and yet didn’t shed a single tear or share a single personal feeling about it with us. He had to be scared and worried about passing. I knew he wasn’t a born-again believer and I worried. As he backed out, I prayed the same prayer I did every day for him. That the Lord would break into his world and reveal the awesome power, love and comfort that only God can bring. While my prayer remained the same, I couldn’t help but feel it was more imperative now than ever before.

  CHAPTER 3

  December 24, 2010

  The table for Floyd was ready. The finish I put on the table was a dark cherry red and I personally felt the table looked amazing. Levi was on his way over from Roy’s with the trailer as I pushed open the bay doors of my shop. The night sky had already settled in for the evening and the shop’s floodlight illuminated the snowflakes that were falling that Christmas Eve. Plumes of breath escaped my lips as I anticipated Levi’s arrival.

  Chris came around from the front of the house, bundled up in his checkered red and black jacket and a beanie cap. His hands were hidden away in his pockets and his steps were light as he approached the shop.

  “She’s finally done, eh?” He asked, coming in from the snow into the bay.

  “She sure is,” I smiled, turning to join Chris’ gaze at the table and chairs. “This is by far the most amazing thing I’ve ever made out here in this shop.”

  “It better be for the amount of time you poured into it,” Chris said. Sliding his fingers across the top of the table as he walked around it, he shook his head. “This is so cool dude. You did a great job.”