Page 19 of Under an Oklahoma Sky

“Nice to meet you, Seth. Thanks for coming to help out.”

Seth hesitated before taking the offered hand. He gave it a shake and let go. A muscle ticked in his temple, and Sage fought back a giggle. Hopefully, she’d finally found a way to stop his endless pickup lines.

“Not from around here, are you, Westfield?” Seth looked ready to spit nails.

Adam smiled knowingly and slipped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her against his side. For a formerly celibate friar, the man caught on quickly. “As Sage keeps telling me, my New York accent gives me away every time. Isn’t that right, honey?”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Sage tried to send him a telepathic message thanking him for playing along while warning him not to lay it on too thick. “Yes, I do keep telling you that, and maybe now you’ll believe me… sweetie.”

A man unloading bales of hay from the trucks near Adam’s cottage let out a loud whistle, and they all turned to see him staring at them. “Hey, Seth! You gonna work or stand there and yap while we take care of everything… again?”

“Screw you, Charlie… Oh, sorry, Reverend.” At least Seth had the decency to blush when he spotted the holy man coming up the steps. “I’m coming!”

The jerk brushed past the reverend, who approached Sage with an ash-covered metal box. “We found this back where the tack room was.”

Stunned, she took it from him. “Oh, my…” Cracking open the lid, she stared in awe, and tears welled up in her eyes. She lifted her gaze to Adam and tried to speak, but nothing came out.

He pulled a bandana from the back pocket of his jeans and held it out to her. “What is it, Sage?”

Swallowing hard, she wiped her eyes with the red-and-white cloth before placing the box on one of the breakfast tables. Slowly, she sifted through the contents. “It’s things Mark started saving after we began dating in college. He kept everything. I’d forgotten all about this and haven’t seen any of it since before Matthew was born. Mark must’ve kept the box in his workbench. Letters I wrote him. Movie and concert ticket stubs.” She pulled out a strip of four photos and showed it to Adam. “This was from our second date. There was a photo booth at a carnival.”

“You haven’t changed much over the years.”

She snorted. “Thanks, but compared to now, I look like I was fifteen in that photo.” Her hair had been longer then, and now she still carried around some of the baby weight she’d never lost after Jenna was born. She shifted her attention to Reverend Stevens. “Thank you so much for finding this and not assuming it was trash.”

He patted her hand. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

As the man returned to help with the rest of the clean-up, Sage put everything back in the box and shut it. “I’ll look through this later,” she told Adam. “For now, I’ll put it in my room. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time. I have garbage to dispose of… honey.”

She grinned as he walked away, chuckling. “Thank you, sweetie.”

Six hours later, the last remnants of the fire had been hauled away, and the frame of the new barn was complete. The men had laid the floor and roped off the stalls, then secured tarps across what would eventually be the loft to provide temporary shelter for the horses. After storing their tools in their trucks, they called it a day and vowed to return tomorrow to finish the job.

Once everything was cleaned up, Sage sent Maddie and Evan back to their cabin with plates of leftover food from lunch. A few more women had shown up shortly before one that afternoon, carrying trays and bowls overflowing with food. Despite their big breakfasts, the men had worked up quite an appetite and eagerly filled their plates again. There had still been plenty left over, though, and Maddie had sent dinner home with anyone who wanted it.

Her hair still damp from a quick shower, Sage removed one plate, then popped a second into the microwave, reheating an assortment of leftovers for Adam and herself. The timer dinged at the same time the screen door opened and he walked in, fresh from his own shower. He’d shaved again, too, making her want to run her fingers over his baby-soft cheek before his whiskers returned.

Taking the plates from her, he carried them into the dining room while she grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge. She’d discovered that even as a friar, he’d enjoyed the occasional brew. Following him, she stopped short when she saw where he’d chosen to sit. Instead of taking his usual seat at the opposite end of the table, he’d set his plate down in Jenna’s spot beside hers.

Waiting for her to sit, he raised an eyebrow. “Problem? I’ll sit at the other end if you want.”

Smiling, she shook her head and set the beer bottles on the table. “Don’t you dare move. Let me just get the glasses I put in the freezer earlier.”

When she returned, he pulled out her chair. A little thrill of pleasure went through her. It was such a simple, gentlemanly gesture, but it made her feel special and pampered. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Sitting, he took her hand and said grace. “Thank you, Lord, for this food we are about to eat. For our family and friends. And for the community that pulled together to help us in our time of need. Bless them all. Amen.”

“Amen.”

They both dug into their food. Sage hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she took a bite of baked ziti. “Mmm. I love Ashley’s tomato sauce. Her lasagna has won a blue ribbon at the Fourth of July county fair more times than I can count. Her only real competition is Hilde, who owns the diner in town.”

“If it’s as good as her ziti, then I’m sure it’s a winner.” Adam took another bite, then swallowed. “Now I’m going to have to try Hilde’s sauce and judge for myself. But this ranks right up there with my foster mother’s. She was a hell of a cook.” He picked up his beer. “What about you? What food do you enter in the county fair?”

An unladylike snort escaped her. “I’m not allowed to enter anything. No one wants to risk food poisoning. Thank goodness for Maddie. Otherwise, we’d live on sandwiches and frozen dinners.”

Adam grinned as he cut a piece of ham. “You can’t be that bad.”