Chapter 4
Amayah and Luke stepped into her small backyard, boots crunching through uneven snow as dusk gathered like a hush over the terrain.
The little shed in the corner of the yard sagged slightly, its weathered boards warped and silvered from years of wind and ice. A rust-specked metal roof slanted unevenly, and thin icicles clung to its edge like fragile teeth, catching the last fading light.
Replacing the structure was on her list of things to eventually do here at the house. But she thought she’d wait until spring. She had other expenses to focus on before then.
Amayah pulled the door open, its hinges protesting with a dry groan, and the faint scent of dust and aged pine drifted out.
Inside, shelves bowed under the weight of stacked odds and ends—half-empty paint cans, tangled cords, a dented lantern, garden tools, and a scattering of forgotten season-deep intentions.
She stepped inside and began rummaging through the supplies she kept here—mostly art supplies. But she knew she had some plywood she’d purchased for one of those projects.
“The Crumps live next door,” she said quietly. “Their mom seems to be struggling. A lot. Trouble just sort of circles that house.”
Luke’s gaze softened, and he helped her tug the plywood out from where it was wedged into a corner. “So you just try to keep the peace by not making a big deal out of broken windows?”
She took a step back. “I try to stay available. This may sound strange, but sometimes loving people looks like showing up, and other times it looks like stepping back and letting God be the one who carries the weight.”
“Interesting take on things.” He moved the plywood toward the door.
“I know what it’s like to struggle,” she admitted.
Luke met her eyes.
“Then let me make sure this place feels safe tonight,” he said, voice low and steady as he took the board from her arms.
The sharp winter air bit at Amayah’s cheeks as Luke steadied the plywood over the broken window, his broad shoulders blocking the worst of the wind.
He worked with quiet focus, his movements efficient and practiced. The taps of the hammer seemed measured, and he carefully tested the fit.
“You’ve done this before.” She didn’t try to keep the note of admiration from her voice.
He gave a faint shrug. “My dad believed every man should know how to fix what the world tries to break.”
She smiled softly. “That’s a good philosophy.”
“Didn’t always feel like it when I was a kid.” He lined up another nail. “But I suppose some lessons settle in over time.”
She watched as Luke secured the last corner, noting how his rugged competence contrasted with the gentleness he’d shown the kids earlier.
His posture was relaxed but attentive, every movement deliberate and grounded.
Snow clung to his dark lashes and the faint stubble along his jaw caught the dying light, lending him an air of worn honesty rather than polish.
He wasn’t conventionally smooth. But something about him felt steady—like he was the kind of man who didn’t just say he would stay, but who meant the words.
“Your turn,” he said lightly as he hammered another nail in place. “What about your family? Are they nearby?”
A flicker of something deeper passed through her eyes. Not pain exactly—more like memory. “They live in Chicago. That’s where I grew up, but I got a job here after college.”
“Are you close?” He grabbed another nail.
Amayah shrugged. “Not really. They’re pretty much living their own lives, and I’m living mine.”
He stepped back from the window to observe his work. “That surprises me. You seem like the type who’d have a close-knit family.”
“My dad died when I was twelve, and when I was eighteen my mom married a man who was the opposite of my dad. He owns his own company and even has a private jet. I couldn’t help but feel like everything my dad had raised me to be disappeared when my mom remarried. All her values seemed to change.”
“That sounds tough.”
Amayah nodded. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Sometimes I look at my mom, and I don’t feel like I even know her. Maybe she thinks the same about me. Either way, I’m hoping my example will speak more to them than any argument I might try to make.”
“Beautiful and wise,” Luke murmured before immediately looking embarrassed, like he hadn’t meant to say the words.
Amayah felt the start of a smile curling at the edge of her lips.
She knew she could be a lot. That she had strong opinions. That she wasn’t one to back down.
A lot of people couldn’t handle that. A lot of guys she’d dated couldn’t handle that.
And that never bothered her. If two people weren’t meant to be together, then they weren’t meant to be together.
There was no need trying to rewrite the plan God had for her future. Her decisions were hers, but she’d always felt God’s steady hand of guidance in everything she did.
Did she get things wrong sometimes? Of course. But that didn’t mean she stopped trying.
Memories of her relationship with Isaac tried to fill her mind, but she pushed them away.
Not now.
Luke drove the final nail home with one precise tap and stepped back. “There. It’ll hold until you can get the glass replaced.”
“Thank you.” Emotion colored her words. “Not just for this. For staying.”
His gaze held hers just a little too long. Then he suddenly stepped back as if he needed to create distance. “Speaking of which . . . I should probably get going. I’ve got another appointment across town.”
Disappointment flickered through her before she masked it. “Did you get everything you needed?”
He shook his head. “No, unfortunately, I didn’t. Would it be all right if we continued the interview tomorrow? I think this article can go deeper than what we’ve already covered.”
“Yes. Tomorrow’s fine. But I’m a judge for a Christmas festival across town. You might have to accompany me.”
“I’m sure my editor wouldn’t mind if I snapped some pictures and killed two birds with one stone—so to speak.”
She grinned. “Perfect then.”
They discussed the details of when and where to meet.
Then he turned toward the door and paused. “Amayah? Be careful.”
“I will.”
Amayah watched as he walked away, his tall frame eventually disappearing into the falling snow.
God had brought a lot of interesting people through her doorway and into her home. Each had been for a purpose. To help her grow. To teach her humility.
What purpose would Luke Cross’s visit serve?