Levi's incredulous gaze swept her face. "What? Why?"
"Because I need to." She couldn't explain it to him; she couldn't even explain it to herself. "Will you drop me at the lodge, please?"
At the sound of tires kicking up loose gravel in the turnabout, Levi threw out an arm, gesturing toward Cal's erratic exit.
"That man has done nothing but lie to you and manipulate you . . . he's a coward. He'll never own his part in this, Rayne. What good could possibly come from you talking with him?"
She rubbed her thumb over the back of Levi's hand, the vulnerability in his voice twisting at her heart. She'd planted the seed for his insecurity. She'd chosen Cal and the lodge over him time and time again.
But not this time.
"I'm asking you to trust me, Levi."
Though he said nothing, the fear of her corruptibility still lurked in his eyes.
Ford drew closer, his gait as steady as his gaze. "Let her go, son."
"That man wouldn't even look at you, Ford, much less thank you for what you did for him." The raw quality in Levi's voice pricked her throat.
"I don't need to be thanked." Ford placed a hand on Levi's shoulder. "Love isn't measured by what we gain. It's measured by how much we give away."
Levi released a tension-filled sigh and looked from Ford to Rayne. "You're sure about this?"
The anxiety in her chest eased. "I'm sure."
CHAPTER FORTY.
Rayne padded across the deserted lobby, her footsteps cutting through a silence as eerie as the smoke outside. Her uncle's office sat vacant. So did the Great Room, the parlor, and the stairwell.
Cal wasn't anywhere to be found on the main floor.
She skimmed her fingertips along the barren wall of family history, no frames or portraits to warm the familiar space today. Instead, the stark hallway was a cold contradiction to her memory and, quite possibly, a true reflection of reality.
Empty.
On her second pass through the kitchen, her eyes were drawn to the window, to the silhouette of a man bent over the cedar railing of a wraparound porch. His gaze seemed transfixed on a horizon he couldn't possibly see-or perhaps, on a fire line much too distant, even on the clearest of days.
He didn't turn in her direction when the door creaked open; he simply spoke to the air in front of him. "This lodge is all I have left of my father."
It wasn't the first time she'd heard Cal mention her grandfather, but it was the first time she'd heard something close to sorrow in his voice.
The rapid thud in her chest fueled her courage and her compassion. "It would have been very hard to lose it."
He didn't respond.
She inched closer. "I can only imagine how painful Granddaddy's confession must have been for you."
He clenched his jaw and continued to stare out at the shapeless scenery.
"All those years the two of you were estranged . . . and then he confirmed your biggest fear just days before he died."
"You don't know anything." A halfhearted statement encased in denial.
"I know our family doesn't have to remain divided over Granddaddy's secret."
"Yes." The word slithered off his tongue. "We do."
"He's your brother, Cal."
"I have one brother!" He slammed his hand onto the railing, the vibration rattling the planked boards beneath her feet. "And anything that man told you is prosecutable!"
"Ford didn't tell me." A testament she would cling to. She'd been the one to speak the words, not him. "I just finally opened my eyes to what I'd been too blind to see."
"So that's your position, then?"
"Truth isn't a position."
"Do not preach to me about truth."
In the light of so many lies-her grandfather's, her father's, her own-how couldn't he see that truth was the only way to peace? To freedom?
"What exactly do you intend to do with this knowledge, Rayne? What is it you want?"
"Nothing."
A two-beat laugh. "Everybody wants something."
"I didn't come to fight with you."
"So why did you come?" His russet eyes narrowed. "The lodge?"
Two words that had measured her value and worth for far too long. The only place she'd ever felt wanted or needed or accepted. The only place she'd ever known approval. The only place she'd ever called home. But when she'd walked those desolate hallways only moments ago, she'd finally seen the lodge for what it was-a building with no pulse, no breath, no life.
Somewhere along the way she'd confused legacy with love. And position with purpose.
She prayed she'd never make that mistake again.
"No," she said. "I'm here to tell you that I won't lie for you or for my father. I won't keep your secrets and I won't deny the truth."
"Only a selfish brat would turn her back on her own family."
"And yet, you've turned your back on your brother time and time again. You've kept our entire extended family in the dark, spoon-fed us lies about how Ford weaseled his way into the will, stole our inheritance, and robbed our grandfather. You defamed his character and then encouraged us to do the same, all so you wouldn't have to own your shame."
"Your father's political image hasn't remained spotless by chance. Everything I've done is to protect him and to secure the future of our family name!"
How could anyone be so relentless in their denial? "Ford's the one who kept your lodge from burning to the ground!"
Cal's chest heaved as he shifted his stance. "If you choose him, you'll be making a grave mistake."
"What mistake is that? The same one Milton Shelby made by questioning your ethics? I used to pity him. I used to fear his fate. But now I fear yours. Now, I pity you." The swell of emotion inside her shook her voice as she thought of Delia and Celeste and Ford. "There won't be a family left for you to secure if you don't own up to your mistakes. If you don't stop lying."
A tear streaked down her cheek. Am I crying? She touched her face and felt another drop swipe across her forearm, carried on a wind gust. She tilted her chin skyward and stretched her palm into the open air. Two more drops in the span of three short seconds.
Rain.
Despite her uncle's scowl, a smile stretched across her face as she slipped down the uncovered porch steps onto the thirsty grass.
"He won't ever be one of us," Cal said. But the fear she heard in his voice revealed that he knew the opposite was true. Ford was already one of them. His influence had stretched beyond power, wealth, and fame. And more importantly, beyond Cal's control.
Ford had refused to allow Cal's hatred to corrode his soul. He'd refused to allow bitterness to corrupt his character. He'd refused to allow anger to taint his compassion.
And he'd chosen to forgive his enemies and to love them too.
A misty breeze rushed over her, sending goose bumps down her spine and a whispered reminder to her heart: the same choices awaited her now.
"I'm not taking sides. I'm choosing our family-even the part you don't want to acknowledge."
Cal froze at her declaration, his back rigid and tense. Saying nothing more, he shoved through the back entrance and disappeared into the vacant lodge. And unlike every interaction she could recall with her uncle in the past, the shame of failed expectations never came.
The drizzle of moments before intensified, and her pace quickened as she maneuvered through the Shelby grassland toward the farm. In only a matter of minutes, the weighty atmosphere had thinned, sharpening her senses to the world around her. The lenses on her glasses became smeared and sweaty, and she plucked them from her face. Her vision blurred, but her eyes didn't need to see the path ahead. Not when her heart had memorized the way.
She wove past familiar pine trees and thorn bushes, and much the way she'd done a dozen plus times this summer, she slipped through the slats of the fence.
A soaked Levi was waiting for her on the other side.
Precipitation poured from the heavens, her hair was as drenched as her dark cotton shirt, but the sight of him was as refreshing as the rain on their dehydrated valley. Without a word, he wrapped her in a hug and buried his face in the hollow of her neck. "Are you okay?"
How could she possibly explain it? "I'm so much more than okay."
He pulled back, a shadow of disbelief in his eyes. "And Cal?"
She reached up and touched his damp face, droplets of water balancing on the ends of his lash line. "I can't control the choices he'll make. I can only control mine. And I need to forgive him. The same way Ford did."
Levi smoothed a hand over her rain-showered hair. "I used to think Ford was some kind of superhuman anomaly. That the way he saw people, the way he loved people, couldn't possibly be matched. And then I met you."
She rubbed her thumbs along the day-old stubble of his jaw. "But Levi, you were the one who helped me see what I couldn't see before." Her lips trembled. "That I could be loved just as I am."
His arms encircled her waist and he pulled her close, speaking against her lips in a caress she wanted to taste. "You've always been enough, Rayne. Way before you ever met me."
His words resonated deep within her, exposing another kind of truth, one God had planted long ago. One she'd only just discovered.
Levi pressed his lips to hers, the taste of tears and rain mingling in their kiss. She could live here. In this moment. Forever.
His mouth curved into a smile as the downpour increased. She tipped her face skyward again, closed her eyes, and . . . and the most absurd thought struck her. For the first time in her life she had absolutely no clue what came next.
"What?" he asked over the hard plinking and pattering all around them.
A bit dumbstruck at the realization, she shook her head. "It's just, I'm homeless. And jobless. And-"
Levi kissed each of her cheeks and then the tip of her nose. "You're going to be just fine. This is your opportunity, Rayne. To take what's in your heart and bring it to life. And I have no doubt you will do just that." He inclined his head toward the large barn behind him-a barn befitting so many of the community events she'd outlined.
She smiled at him through her tears. "I love you, Levi."
A throat cleared behind them.
Ford stood only a few paces away, water rivulets streaming from the brim of his leather hat.
"Sorry to interrupt." His natural grin widened. "But I just spoke to Marshal Harris."
"Yeah?" Levi reached for her hand and interlaced their fingers. "Are they going to open up the road sooner because of the rain?"
"Looks that way." Ford tipped his head and opened his palm heavenward. "And if it keeps coming down like this, the crews will be able to get a much better handle on the fires, but still, he'd appreciate us clearing out for a couple hours until it's official."
Rayne studied Ford openly, her heart squeezing with nostalgia. She didn't know this man, not in the way she hoped to, yet there was no discounting his appeal. There was no discounting the magnetism of his humble spirit.
Levi started in the direction of his truck and Rayne tugged his hand. "Wait." She turned back to Ford. "Before we go . . . will you show me the tree?"
Ford smiled and gestured for them to follow. Levi held her hand as they trudged through the wet orchard. The invigorating smell of freshly soaked earth mingled with the sweet scent of ripening fruit. The orchard spanned farther than she'd realized. Hard droplets pinged against the shiny red and green apples, creating a nature chorus she hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime.
Ford stopped just shy of the center of the orchard, a perfect grid of apple trees all around them. The soles of her sandals sank into the irrigated grass.
"This one here." Ford pointed to a tree with branches splayed wide, the leaves a vibrant, healthy green. Glistening apples peeked out at every angle. And even through sheets of pouring rain, the deep-purple words scrawled on a garden stone in childish handwriting stole her attention.
RAYNE'S TREE.
Hand hovering over her mouth, she knelt, the knees of her jeans sinking into squishy soil.
Ford had kept it. After all these years. He'd kept his promise. He'd taken care of her tree.
The same way he'd taken care of her family.
She brushed her fingertips over the roughly painted letters and then reached out to touch the bumpy tree trunk in front of her, remembering the tiny start she'd planted nearly two decades ago.
Ford knelt beside her under the protective branches. "Your tree's produced a great harvest every year."
Overwhelmed, she released a sob-filled laugh. "Our tree."
He touched her damp shoulder. "God always takes care of his creation, Rayne. The same way He's taken care of us, and our valley." He tilted his eyes to the clearing skyline.
Tears dripped from her wet lashes as the steady tenor of Ford's voice soothed a piece of her newly restored soul. She didn't have a clue what the coming days and weeks and months ahead would bring, but maybe she didn't need to. If God could send rain to a parched land, if He could reunite a family after two decades, then maybe He had a plan for her future too.
Ford helped her to her feet. Only, when he released her hand, she wasn't ready to let go.
In just two short steps, she bridged a gap of eighteen years and hugged the man who'd taught her more about life and love and promises kept than anyone she'd ever known.