The House that Love Built

Seventeen




Brooke closed the store early on Thursday so everyone could get ready for the coming bad weather. Tropical Storm Bill was headed straight for them and growing in strength. If it kept on its present course, it could bring several inches of much-needed rain, but also high winds and possible tornadoes—especially if it grew into a hurricane as forecasters expected. Smithville residents knew from experience that a big storm didn’t always lose its punch after landfall. And this was the first big storm coming their way since the start of hurricane season.

At home, Meghan and Spencer helped Brooke pick up loose objects in the yard that might get tossed around by high winds. It seemed a little extreme to do much else since they were a hundred seventy miles inland. Folks in town had been chattering about it all day, saying Smithville would be on the “dirty side of the storm,” the side with the heaviest rainfall. Brooke wasn’t sure about that, and she didn’t think the weather forecasters were either. Anyone who lived near the coast knew these storms had a mind of their own. She hated storms, so she held tight to the possibility that this one would veer away and miss them.

She stepped onto a kitchen chair and took down her butterfly wind chime. After it was safely stored inside, she carried her potted plants from the porch to the living room and lined them along the box window. Just in case.

“Come on. Let’s go turn the TV on and check out the latest.” Brooke motioned for Meghan and Spencer to come in the house, and once they were all seated on the couch, Brooke turned on the television and searched for the Weather Channel. Spencer was fixated on the weather coverage, but Meghan just brushed her doll’s hair, not paying much attention.

The storm covered almost the entire Gulf of Mexico, and forecasts had the eye of the storm making landfall at Galveston. It would weaken after it hit land, of course, but the sheer size of the thing made Brooke wonder if she’d done enough to prepare.

The phone rang in the kitchen, and Spencer ran to answer it. “It’s Mr. Saunders,” he said as he passed the phone to her and sighed.

Brooke hadn’t talked to Owen since Saturday night, but she’d seen two missed calls from him on her caller ID. She’d toyed with the idea of calling him back, but he hadn’t left a message and, truthfully, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see him. What had started as a simple friendship now felt way too complicated.

They seemed to have way too much baggage between them to have a healthy relationship. Yet there had been several intimate moments when Brooke had felt things might be moving in that direction—nothing concrete, just the way they looked at each other, how he put his arm around her sometimes. Little things. They’d each been clear about their intentions, but was Owen just protecting his heart the way she was? And what about Owen’s feelings about God? The whole thing was beginning to make her a little nervous.

“Are you ready for the storm?” he asked after she said hello.

Brooke settled back onto the couch. “I think so. As ready as we can be. But I saw Mr. Casper across the street putting tape on his windows. I’m not doing all that. I think we’re too far inland to get that kind of wind. What do you think?”

“I’m not doing any of that either. I did replace the broken panes I had upstairs and fixed the roof as best I could.” He paused. “I called you twice. I was just wondering . . . how you were.”

“I’m fine. The kids and I are just watching the storm coverage and planning to eat hot dogs.”

Long silence, then Owen asked, “Want some company?”

Brooke tucked a leg underneath her, bit her bottom lip for a moment, then couldn’t keep from grinning. Despite the complications, she wanted to see him. “Are you lonely in that big house, Mr. Saunders?”

Meghan nestled up to her mother. “Tell Mr. Saunders to come eat hot dogs with us!”

Brooke put a finger to her lips as she looked at Meghan, then she turned to Spencer. Her son had seemed fine with Owen—until after Brooke’s dinner date with him. Since then, Spencer hadn’t mentioned going back to his house, and he was scowling now. Brooke suspected that even the possibility of a mysterious bunker wouldn’t make him okay with his mother getting too friendly with any man. She covered the mouthpiece on the phone.

“Spence, that okay with you if Mr. Saunders comes over?”

Spencer didn’t look at her, just shrugged. “Whatever.”

Brooke disliked that word, and Spencer was using it more and more these days. “We’d love some company,” she finally said, keeping her eyes on Spencer.

“What can I bring?”

“Nothing. Unless you don’t like hot dogs.”

Brooke hung up, and about thirty minutes later there was a knock at the door. She swallowed hard when she opened the front door and saw a beautiful bouquet of yellow roses.

“Here.” Owen handed her the flowers. “I felt weird after dinner Saturday, and I think I must have said something or . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know. But . . .” He shrugged again. “These are for you. Not the best since only the grocery store was open.”

Brooke stepped back so he could come in. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.” So Owen could tell something was wrong. And cared.

Spencer was quickly by Brooke’s side, arms folded across his chest. He nodded toward the roses. “What are those for?”

Meghan sauntered up to them in her bare feet. “Ooh, pretty!”

Brooke motioned for her children to step back. “Let Mr. Saunders in.”

Owen followed the kids into the living room while Brooke went to put the flowers in a vase, unsure how she felt about the gesture. Seemed like mixed signals, but Brooke wasn’t sure which signal she preferred anyway, which made her as messed up as he was. Either way, she loved yellow roses and briefly scanned her memory, trying to recall if she’d ever told Owen that. She didn’t think so.

They all settled on a movie to watch—Despicable Me—and while Owen set up the DVD player, Brooke finished chopping onion for the hot dogs. She called Owen and the kids into the kitchen to fix their plates, then they all moved to the living room. Owen sat between Brooke and Meghan on the couch while Spencer curled up in the recliner, not saying much. Brooke and the kids had seen the movie before, an animated comedy that even Brooke thought was funny, but she was used to watching movies that were suitable for a ten-year-old and six-year-old. Owen laughed out loud a couple of times, though, and seemed to be enjoying himself.

When the movie was over, it was Meghan and Spencer’s bedtime. “I’ll be there to tuck you in shortly.” Brooke leaned forward as Meghan kissed her good night. Spencer walked upstairs without his usual argument about bedtime, and Brooke wondered what was going on in his head. She thought maybe Owen was wondering too. His brow furrowed as he watched Spencer go.

Meghan wrapped her arms around Owen’s neck and held on for dear life. At first, Owen glanced at Brooke as if he didn’t know what to do, but slowly he eased his arms around her. Meghan kissed him on the cheek, and Owen smiled. For a few brief seconds, Brooke felt like Travis was back, like it was old times again.

Owen waited until Meghan was upstairs before he twisted to face Brooke on the couch. “Do you think Spencer is okay? He was awfully quiet.”

“Yeah, I noticed that too. I don’t know.”

“He was dead set on making sure I didn’t pursue his mother, but I thought we’d all kind of settled in as friends and that he was okay.” He paused, frowning. “Maybe the flowers weren’t a good idea.”

“No, they’re beautiful. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” Brooke paused, then got up. “I’d better go tuck them both in.”

She walked into Spencer’s room first, but he’d already turned off his light and was nestled down in his covers. That had been the norm for the past month or so, even though she allowed him to keep his light on longer than Meghan did. She missed their old tuck-in routine—a little talk, a prayer, and a kiss on the forehead. “Did you say your prayers?” she asked softly into the darkness, and Spencer responded with a muffled “Yes.”

Meghan was pulling on her pajama bottoms when Brooke walked in. Once she was done, Brooke removed the band from Meghan’s ponytail, then reached for the brush on the end table. After she’d brushed out the tangles, she and Meghan knelt by the bed and said their prayers. Meghan asked God to watch over the “storm people,” which Brooke understood to mean those in the path of the bad weather.

When she got back downstairs, she returned to the couch and flipped to a tropical update. And gulped. She’d been praying the storm would take another path, but the forecast hadn’t changed. “That storm is huge. Look.” She pointed to the screen. “It’s a hurricane now. Hurricane Bill.”

“Wild Bill.” Owen chuckled, but Brooke envisioned high winds, torrential rains, loud thunder and lightning, and maybe even power outages, and she shivered. Owen didn’t seem to notice. He just leaned back and eased his feet up on the coffee table next to Brooke’s. When their outer calves brushed against each other, Brooke slowly edged away. They were both barefoot, and she jumped when Owen reached over with his foot and tickled the bottom of hers.

“Don’t do that. Very ticklish.” She pointed a finger at him, and instead of running his toe along the bottom of her foot, he plopped his foot next to hers.

“Look at those tiny little feet.”

Brooke stretched her foot as long as she could. “They’re not all that tiny. Yours are just huge.” She was secretly flattered, though. Owen kept his leg and foot right next to hers, which sent a tingle up her leg. She wondered if he felt it too.

The televised storm coverage droned on. The hurricane was scheduled to make landfall later that evening. That meant Smithville would begin to feel the effects tomorrow if the storm stayed on course. She’d keep praying the forecast would change, but she felt her anxiety growing as she watched the clouds swirl on the satellite image. It really did look like they were in for it. Maybe she should have had Big Daddy board up the hardware store windows.

She’d called her mother earlier to make sure that the Oaks had taken necessary precautions. Her mother said that Brooke’s father had brought in her potted plants and made sure everything on her little patio was secure. Brooke rolled her eyes and told her mother to stay safe. Now she was wondering if she should have begged her to come here.

The truth was, storms terrified her. A neighbor girl had been struck by lightning when Brooke was seven. It had been storming when Travis had his accident too. Brooke could already picture herself huddling upstairs in her bed with the kids, covers over their heads. She’d do her best to comfort them, as she always did, but they wouldn’t be fooled.

The whole prospect made her weary, and she yawned as she turned to Owen. “Do you want to watch another movie?”

“I’m thinking I need to go so you can sleep.”

Brooke glanced at her watch. It was only nine thirty, and though she was tired, she wasn’t ready for him to go. “I can’t go to sleep this early. I’d be up at two, which I am half the time anyway. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since Travis . . .” She shrugged.

“I don’t sleep very well either.” Owen put an arm around her, and at first Brooke tensed. But when he added, “I’ll leave if you want, or you can just close your eyes and rest.” She couldn’t resist how good it felt to be held.

She settled into the nook of his arm and handed him the remote. “Rest sounds good.” Closing her eyes, she noticed how different he smelled from Travis. More of a spicy aroma mixed with fabric softener. She’d forgotten how nice it was just to cuddle. In fact, she wished he could be here tomorrow too, especially if the storm predictions proved accurate.

Owen put his hand against the side of her head, then ran his hand gently through her hair. There was every reason to lift her head and pull away from him, but his touch filled her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. But this guy had said he would never trust another woman and he’d lost his faith in God. How could Brooke possibly give him access to her heart? And was she even ready for that anyway?

Owen kept running his hand through her hair as if it were the most natural thing in the world while he flipped channels on the TV. Brooke shifted her weight, wondering if he would stop when she moved, but he just pulled her closer and, surprisingly, kissed her on the forehead. It was the most at peace she’d felt in two years. The next thing she knew, she was opening her eyes, unsure how long she had slept.

She slid her face up his shoulder until she was looking at him. He was asleep too, barely snoring, his head leaning back against the couch. She watched him for a few minutes before she sat up, waking him.

“Wow.” Owen pulled his long legs from atop the coffee table and sat up, running a hand through his hair. He checked his watch. “It’s two in the morning. I gotta let you get to bed. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Brooke stood up when he did. “That’s probably the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.” She followed him to the door.

“Thanks for the hot dogs. And the company.” Owen yawned, and so did Brooke.

“You’re welcome.” She pulled the door open and he turned to leave, but then he spun around and put his arms around her.

He kissed her on the forehead again, then on the cheek, and for a few moments he stared into her eyes. Brooke’s heart was pounding.

“I’ll talk to you soon.” He stepped back, frowning. Then he turned and hurried out the door.



Owen pulled into his driveway but sat in his car for a few minutes as he wondered what was happening between him and Brooke. He’d never felt that comfortable with a woman before, not even his own wife. A certain peace settled over him when he was with her, and he knew why. She didn’t expect anything from him. It was okay just to be. With Virginia, there had always been an agenda.

He finally stepped out of the car and trudged up the porch steps to his big, empty house, and again wondered if this whole idea had been a big mistake. What was he going to do with a house this big anyway?

As he put the key in the lock, he thought about Brooke again. He’d wanted so badly to kiss her tonight. Really kiss her, in a way that would resolve this little dance they seemed to be doing together. But at the same time, he’d felt the need to protect himself from her. He was wise enough to know that not all women were like Virginia, but how could you ever know who to trust? He wasn’t sure he could take that kind of betrayal again.

He jumped when the cat—Scooter—pounced from the porch swing, hissed, then scrambled down the steps and across the yard. Crazy animal. The only person Scooter had taken to was Hunter.

Hunter—that was another thing to figure out. Owen had been a little wounded when he realized the kid had taken forty dollars from him. Owen would have given him the money if he’d just asked. Had he thought Owen wouldn’t miss it or didn’t know how to count? And what had happened to Hunter’s entire paycheck from the previous week?

He’d planned to give Hunter enough time to confess or put the money back, but it had been three days and Hunter hadn’t mentioned it. So Owen didn’t know what to do. The kid did great work, and just having him around kept the loneliness of his big house at bay. But could Owen afford to have Hunter there every day if he couldn’t trust him not to steal?



Early Friday morning Brooke drew an X on the calendar in the kitchen, scribbled “15” in the corner, and glanced outside at the rain. Then she took her coffee to the living room to watch the weather coverage. Hurricane Bill was moving into Houston as a category-two hurricane, much of the city was already without power, and extensive flooding was reported. The local forecast was for heavy rain and high winds. At best.

Brooke had already called Juliet and Big Daddy and told them not to go in to work today. She’d asked Juliet if she wanted to come ride out the storm with her, Meghan, and Spencer. But Juliet had a new love interest she was going to spend the day with. Big Daddy had taken it upon himself to board up the store windows yesterday after she left. Now he was heading out to check on his widowed sister in La Grange. He planned to stay with her until the storm passed.

Brooke slipped off her flip-flops and pulled her legs up under her on the couch. Maybe the worst of the hurricane would miss them. Her mother had already called this morning wanting to know if Brooke and the kids were okay. Brooke had assured her mother they were fine and quickly made up an excuse to get off the phone. Despite everything, she was glad her mother wasn’t alone right now.

“Mommy, is the electricity going to go off?” Meghan had just come downstairs. Brooke reached for the remote and turned off the television.

“I don’t know, but just think how fun it will be to get out our candles and sit around and play games.”

Meghan’s eyes started to tear. “I don’t want the electricity to go off.”

“Quit being such a baby.” Spencer threw himself on the couch, grabbed the remote, and turned the TV back on.

Brooke held out her hand. “Give me the remote or watch something else. We’ll check on the storm from time to time, but we don’t need to keep the Weather Channel on the entire time.”

Spencer huffed but started flipping channels. Her son had such an attitude lately, and Brooke wondered how much of it had to do with Owen. She walked to the window and peered out. Even though it was raining, there wasn’t even a breeze. The trees were still, as if waiting for something.

As she walked nervously around the house, she pulled out her cell phone, tempted to call Owen. And say what? That she was a huge baby and would he please come over and stay with her and her children while the storm came through?

Why not? They were friends. That should be acceptable. She slid into her bedroom upstairs and called him.

“Ready for the storm?” she asked when he answered.

“Well, I figure this house has been around a hundred years. It must have weathered a few of these. Just hoping the patch-work on the roof holds.” He paused, and Brooke thought she heard another voice in the background, but she couldn’t tell if his guest was male or female. “What about you? Ready? I saw this morning that it’s a category two now. We’ll probably have some high winds and thunderstorms out of it.”

“At least. But, yeah, I guess we’re ready.” She sat down on her bed, then lay back, pulling the phone mouthpiece away as she sighed. He had company, so she wasn’t going to ask him to come stay with her and the kids. “Hope it doesn’t get too bad.”

“I think we’ll be okay.” He paused, and Brooke heard the voice again. She strained to hear if it was a female. “Hey, can I call you back in a little while?” he said. “Would that be okay?”

“Oh, sure.” She sat up, wishing she hadn’t called. “No big deal. I—I was just—just checking to make sure you were ready.” She squeezed her eyes closed, thinking she sounded silly.

“Okay, I’ll call you back.”

Six hours later Brooke, Meghan, and Spencer were upstairs in her bedroom in the dark, huddled together under the covers as lightning flashed, rain pounded, and wind howled.

And no word from Owen.