those that remained were a pale dried-out gray. It struck her as being the color of surrender, and it had absolutely no business being on God’s house. The steps weren’t good for anything but kindling, and what was left of the roof looked ready to collapse at the slightest hint of a breeze.
“It’s looked better,” Scott commented wryly, bracing his hands on either side of the door frame to haul himself up to the gaping front entrance. “I found the front doors, but they’re toast. They have a nice arch to them, though, and I’ll build new ones to fit after I get the roof squared away.”
Offering her a hand, he helped her climb up into the entryway. Once inside the single room, she stood there for a few moments to let her eyes take it all in. She’d anticipated a complete disaster and was pleasantly surprised to see that while it was in deplorable condition, the small church had been swept clean of debris. Here and there, she noticed a fresh beam or piece of lumber shoring up the weaker sections.
Some people might have considered them a futile attempt to halt the decay, but to her eyes they looked hopeful. The way Scott did right now, she added with a little smile. She got the feeling he wanted her to approve of what he’d accomplished so far, and she was more than happy to oblige him. “You’ve been busy in here. I can already imagine how it’ll look when you’re done.”
“Really?” The eagerness seemed out of character for him, and he quickly reverted to the more casual indifference she’d picked up on earlier. “You’re the first one besides me to see it this way. I figured you’d say something polite and leave it at that.”
She was about to respond when a glint of something at the front of the church caught her artist’s eye. Moving carefully around the holes in the floor, she walked toward a section of wall sporting a faded painting of Jesus and some of his followers on a wood panel. It was classic Americana, more cute than beautiful, but it was the raised nature of the panel that had her curiosity humming.
Scott sauntered up behind her, and she asked, “Did you notice this up here?”
“Sure,” he replied with a shrug. “Why?”
“Not the painting,” she clarified, nudging the frame away from the wall to reveal a shard of something that looked suspiciously like red glass. “This.”
“There’s no opening on the outside, so I didn’t even know it was there. Hang on a sec.”
He hurried over to a battered toolbox, and she couldn’t help noticing that while it looked ancient, every tool was laid precisely in its place. It reminded her of her mammoth selection of paints, all arranged in order up the spectrum, and the paintbrushes of various styles she kept beside them. It seemed she and this handsome hermit both treated their tools like precious gems. Interesting.
Using a metal pry bar, he worked his way around the bottom half of the frame, then climbed on a ladder to do the top. When there were only a few points still attached, from his perch he instructed, “You hold the bottom, I’ll steady it up here so we don’t damage anything. Ready?”
Grasping the bottom near the corners, Jenna braced herself for the weight. “Ready.”
Once they’d lowered it to the floor, she stepped back for a look at what they’d uncovered. She thought her jaw might have actually hit the floor, but she couldn’t help herself.
Scott let out a low whistle. “That’s incredible.”
Jenna couldn’t do anything more than nod. There, set into the wall of the decaying old chapel, was a stained-glass depiction of what could only be the Garden of Eden. Some of the lead dividers holding the glass shards in place were cracked or missing, leaving gaps in the colorful design that managed to shine through decades of grime. Going closer, she gently brushed away some of the dirt, admiring the depth of the greens and blues. It was humbling to consider the tremendous patience it must have taken some long-ago craftsman to fit together the tiny pieces that made up the birds and flowers.
“Who did this?” she asked in a reverent whisper.
“I dunno. Gram might, though, or know how we can find out. We should ask her.”
“I can’t believe it’s mostly intact, after all this time.” Glancing around the abandoned church, she added, “It’s like getting a gift from God, isn’t it?”
Scott didn’t respond to that, and out of the corner of her eye she caught his grimace. Turning to face him, she asked, “Did I say something wrong?”
“I’m just thinking we should figure out how to get this thing outta here before the roof caves in on it.”
“Good point.” Instinct told her there was more to his reaction than he was letting on, but it wasn’t her place to force him into discussing something he was clearly intent on keeping to himself. In the past year, she’d learned the Barrett men were stubborn to the core. They didn’t do anything against their considerable will, and she doubted that anything she might say would change this one.
Outside, they pulled a few of the old clapboards from the structure and discovered that whoever had covered the window had nailed up a piece of wood to protect it. So with Jenna inside steadying the fragile piece, Scott used a circular saw to cut out a square slightly bigger than the glass. Then she ran out to hold the frame while he made the last cuts, and together they lowered it to the ground.
Tufts of grass stuck through the open spots, completely ruining any aesthetic effect it once had. Jenna plunked her hands on her hips in disgust. “Well, that’s heartbreaking. I’ve never done stained glass like this, so I have no idea how to go about matching those colors.”
“Whattya mean?” Scott asked, clearly confused.
“We need to restore this and hang it back where it belongs,” she explained patiently.
“Why?”
“Because that’s how it was meant to be.” His baffled expression made it plain he still wasn’t following her line of reasoning. Reaching for an explanation he might understand, she said, “It’s like you making bead board for the kitchen. They have this really cool invention now, y’know. It’s called Sheetrock, and it works great for building interior walls. You can paint it and everything.”
“All right, you got me,” he relented with a chuckle. After a moment, he sobered, and that lingering sorrow clouded his face. “I’m sure Granddad would want the chapel the way it used to be. The problem is it’s gonna take most of my budget to fix the structural stuff, and I don’t have a lot of cash to throw around for doodads. How much do you think it’d cost to restore this thing?”
“If you help me get it to and from my studio, I’ll do it for free,” she blurted impulsively. Busy as she already was, taking on another project—a free one at that—made no sense at all. But in her heart she knew it was the right thing to do. When he gave her a dubious look, she added, “For Will.”
While he considered that, some of the darkness lifted from his features, and he offered his hand to seal the deal. “For Will.”
They stood that way for a few seconds, hands joined as they stared at each other. She noticed a hint of warmth in the depths of his eyes, and Jenna felt herself inexplicably drawn to this broken man who was trying to rebuild his life much like the property he’d inherited. She couldn’t help wondering if Will had intended just that, giving his wayward grandson another path to follow than the errant one he’d chosen.
Thinking
