To Believe In You, page 1
Copyright © 2022 by Emily Conrad
Published by Hope Anchor, LLC
PO Box 3091, Oshkosh, WI 54903
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022906922
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any real locations named are used fictitiously.
Scripture quotations are from The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
ISBN 978-1-7360388-8-8 (Paperback Edition)
ISBN 978-1-7360388-9-5 (Ebook Edition)
ISBN 978-1-957455-02-0 (Hardcover Large Print Edition)
Cover and title page design by Okay Creations, LLC
Edited by Robin Patchen, Robin’s Red Pen
Author photograph by Kim Hoffman
Visit the author’s website at EmilyConradAuthor.com.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Discussion Guide
Acknowledgments
An email subscriber exclusive story
Also by Emily Conrad
About the Author
Did you enjoy this book?
For those who have been betrayed,
May you find hope in the the Trustworthy One.
1
Lina didn’t have a good track record for trusting the right people, but she did have some idea of who not to trust. Matt Visser hovered near the top of that list, but a lack of time and alternatives had dispatched Lina to Visser Landscaping. She had no choice but to offer him a job.
She twisted the ring on her right hand. Grandma, who’d passed the heirloom to her, had dealt wisely with Dad, a relationship far more complex than Lina would ever have with Matt. She could cope. She would cope.
Beyond her windshield, stores of wood chips and gravel flanked the lane that extended from her parking space to the two men who worked on the far side of the yard. Both wore matching green T-shirts and khaki shorts. From the distance, tattoos appeared to cover one guy’s arms.
That had to be Matt.
Awestruck’s former bass guitar player.
Two years ago, when she’d learned he had been fired from the rock band, relief flooded her. He and his addictions had been nothing but trouble, and she was struggling to believe he’d changed as much as Awestruck’s manager, Tim, now insisted. Tim claimed that, because of all Matt had overcome, he might be the right person for the position in more ways than one.
Matt’s story did make quite the cautionary tale.
If he’d changed his behavior, he could be a real asset.
But that seemed like a big if. How often did people completely transform?
God could do anything.
Theoretically.
But what had He done in Matt’s case? Only time would tell.
Ten-foot-tall concrete partitions separated each landscaping material from the next. Stray wood chips and gravel dotted the asphalt lane. A few steps from her car, a stone bruised her heel through her flats.
The tattooed man hoisted himself onto one of the partitions and pulled a sapling from a crack. He tossed it down to his partner—a teenager, she realized as she covered some of the distance.
Matt leapt from the wall onto the pile of finely ground gravel. He scrambled to the top of the cone-shaped mound. From there, he engaged in an animated conversation with the teen. By their hand motions, they appeared to be planning a stunt.
Pushed by a sticky August breeze, the cap sleeves of her top rippled against her arm, and one of her curls swung across her forehead.
The pair hadn’t seen her yet, and if she waited for the situation to play out, she might spare herself the trouble of asking for this favor. Laid up in a body cast, Matt would be useless to her. She crossed her arms over the high waist of her jeans and stopped to observe.
A third man in a company T-shirt stepped into view at the far end of the drive. His path angled toward Matt.
The stunt planning was hard to decipher until the simple, common cadence of the words, “Okay. Here we go.”
Matt lifted his arms over his head, lowered them, lifted them again, all in slow motion.
The latest bystander rushed closer with a shout, as if to intervene.
Undeterred, Matt whipped his arms forward and around. His body tucked and circled mid-air.
A front flip.
During his time with Awestruck, Matt had once fallen off a lift during a show. If that man had attempted a flip on such unforgiving terrain, he would have killed himself.
Now, though the partition blocked her view of his feet, he appeared to land upright before he slid out of sight.
Lina resumed her course toward the men.
Half a second later, to the teenager’s guffaws, Matt stumbled away from the bottom of the gravel, shouted, and lifted his arms in victory.
“That was awesome!” The kid met him with a high five. “Where did you learn to do a flip? Can you teach me?”
“Matt!” Panting from the exertion of jogging up, the other man tossed his hands in exasperation.
Matt ignored him as he clapped the teen on the shoulder. “Cheerleading.”
“What? No.” The kid drew the syllable out with equal parts disbelief and horror.
Matt shrugged a shoulder that, as she drew near, appeared muscular.
That was different.
He had also rid himself of his sallow complexion and learned how to wash his hair since she’d last seen him, a month or two before his dismissal from Awestruck.
Maybe God really had done a transforming work in his life.
Matt tossed the kid a grin. “Going out for cheer is a good way to meet girls.”
Or maybe not.
Gravel dust lightened the green of Matt’s company T-shirt. Beneath his knee-length shorts, blood darkened a three-inch-wide section of his shin. He must’ve skinned it in his descent.
“You are a walking liability nightmare.” A widow’s peak accented the other man’s tall forehead. He’d snuggly tucked his Visser Landscaping shirt into a pair of dressy khakis. Worked mostly in the office, probably.
“Relax, Pete. I’m fine.” As the kid laughed some more, Matt’s attention shifted to her.
Blue eyes?
Huh. She’d remembered them as brown.
Mischief lingered in his smile. “Welcome to Visser Landscaping, where we specialize in flips, flowers, and …” His eyes narrowed in concentration, then his face lit. “Flandscaping.”
The teen snickered.
“Sorry about him.” Pete edged his shoulder in front of Matt’s and planted his leather boat shoes as if staking a claim. “How can I help you?”
Matt rolled his eyes and stepped back to let Pete have his way.
“Actually, I’m here to talk to him.” She motioned to Matt, who paused his retreat.
Pete didn’t budge. “Who are you?”
She considered returning the question, because this guy obviously thought he was somebody. Visser Landscaping was a family-owned business. Did Matt have an older brother?
“He’s working.” Pete lifted his chin. “Unless this is about a job, I’m going to have to ask you to find him later on someone else’s dime.”
As if she were some teenage delinquent he had to run off the property.
Lina met his gaze with a level look. “It is about a job.”
Although probably not of the variety Pete had in mind.
Pete cut a glance at Matt, then stalked off toward the greenhouse.
Meanwhile, the blood running down Matt’s leg soaked into the barely visible upper edge of his white sock. The royal blue lip of his sneakers would be next. A large stone must’ve cut into his shin to cause such a thick trickle.
As Pete’s footsteps faded into the distance, the teen chuckled.
Matt focused again on Lina. “So. What’d you need?”
“You’re bleeding.” She pointed.
He tipped his leg. “Sure enough.”
“That was a spectacularly bad idea.” She looked to the teen, hoping to drive the warning home.
The kid stuck his fingers in his hair and pulled them forward, bl
Smooth.
Matt’s blue eyes cut to her car, a run-of-the-mill sedan, then refocused on her. “I know you from somewhere.”
Shaving, showering, and sobriety had unburied features she hadn’t known he possessed. Save for several scars, his square face had captivating symmetry. His nose was straight, his eyebrows broad but on the sparse side, and his jaw strong and clean.
His new lifestyle hadn’t erased the tattoos, though. A couple of dark lines peeked past the neckline of his shirt. Familiar designs covered his arms. A rose. A skull. A lit match on his thumb, with flames sparking up his forearm. The words love and hate across the backs of his fingers. The panther was new—and especially tacky, even on a muscled arm.
She crossed her arms. “I’ll give you one guess who I am.”
He flinched, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked at his sidekick, then back at her, as if deciding whether to hazard his guess in front of his audience. Then, he put his head down and passed her, on course for the main office building. “Come on, kid.”
The teen loped by and fell into step beside him. “Is she famous?”
“Ask for her autograph.” Matt kept walking.
She followed at a distance. Apparently curious, the boy kept shooting looks at her until he ran into the doorframe of the building. He jerked to attention and scampered inside on his hero’s heels.
Lina was not famous and never cared to be. The only reasons Matt would’ve encouraged an autograph were to mess with the boy or to learn her name. Or both.
Still thirty feet from the log-cabin-style building, she checked her phone.
No one had emailed or called about the open position. If she didn’t find someone to fill it, Key of Hope would have to turn kids away.
Like it or not, she needed Matt.
She heaved a breath and headed for the office. At the entrance, the teenager stepped past her on his way back out. The interior of the building had wide-plank pine floors, painted walls, and windows at the back overlooking a field of sunflowers. Much less like a dank hunting cabin than she’d expected. No movement or sound emanated from the doors that appeared to open into offices or the restroom, so they were alone.
Matt sat behind the front counter, bent sideways, presumably tending his wound. When he spotted her, he shifted, and a crank and swish sounded, a garbage can opening and closing. He watched her advance as though monitoring a wild animal that might just as soon tear him limb from limb as trot off harmlessly.
Was he afraid of her? Interesting.
All right, Lord. If he’s one of Yours now, too, I’ll give him a break.
A little one. In the form of a hint. “I used to wear my hair straight.” She scrunched a handful of her curls. “You’re not the only person to not recognize me now.”
Which had been the point of accepting her natural curls.
Matt half-frowned.
Still stumped, then.
“Lina. Galina Abbey.”
Matt’s eyes narrowed, and concentration replaced the fear.
“You still don’t remember?” She lifted a brow but managed to suppress an eye roll. “I’m Awestruck’s social media manager.”
Matt’s mouth opened with realization. They’d worked together for about a decade as Lina supported the band by posting pictures, writing captions, managing fan groups, and replying to comments.
Of course, during his later years with the band, she’d involved Matt as little as possible, and no one—not one single member of Awestruck or the team behind them—had complained.
But if he was ashamed of his lurid behavior involving women, drugs, and inappropriate advances on Lina herself, it didn’t show. As his mouth closed, his posture straightened with self-assurance.
“Who did you think I was?” she asked.
“Not important since you are who you are.” He folded his hands on the counter. The movement interwove the words spelled on the backs of his fingers. Love and hate. As if the jury were still out on how he felt about her. “What can I do for Awestruck’s social media manager?”
“I’m not here for Awestruck. That role’s part-time. I also accepted a position with the non-profit Adeline Green is setting up—In the Key of Hope Music Lessons.” The music studio, funded by the band and directed by the lead singer’s fiancée, Adeline, would offer kids from low-income families the opportunity to learn an instrument once it was up and running. “You’re familiar with it?”
Matt nodded. “Didn’t you live out east or something? You moved to Lakeshore?”
“All the cool kids were doing it.”
Matt would know she meant Awestruck. Gannon had talked his bandmates into moving to small-town Wisconsin so he could live near Adeline. Matt wouldn’t know that, while Gannon had moved toward love, Lina had relocated to escape it. Or, rather, to escape the wreckage of her own love story.
She had yet to find the fresh start she longed for. Insteads haunted her life in Wisconsin, as they had in New York. Instead of married, she remained single. Instead of cooking for two, she cooked for one. Instead of eagerly awaiting her own turn to have a baby, she stayed busy lining up instructors to teach music to other people’s kids.
If those students were the only children she could look out for, she’d ensure they got the very best from Key of Hope. She would supervise Matt closely if he took the position. And she wouldn’t let his silence fluster her into spilling personal details. She focused on business. “Adeline wants the freedom to travel with Awestruck after she and Gannon get married. So, she hired me to work on-site, managing the day-to-day at Key of Hope.”
“Quite a change.”
“You’re one to talk.”
This time he didn’t flinch. When he wasn’t strung out on drugs, he was actually good-looking. Somehow, both mischievous and dashing at the same time. He’d look killer in a tux.
But the pictures and clips she could recall of him dressed for awards shows or benefit galas involved stumbling, slurring, or worse.
Tim was convinced Matt would stick to the twelve-step program.
Lina would believe it when she saw it.
Maybe.
People could be awfully good at hiding dark secrets.
Another instead: Instead of her naïve, trusting nature, she’d become a skeptic.
“What brings you here?” he asked.
She drew a deep breath. Not every man was Shane, and because she wasn’t as naïve as she used to be, she would take the necessary precautions to ensure Matt did no harm to any of the kids enrolled at Key of Hope. She could do this. She had to do this.
“It turns out when a famous band moves to an area, a lot of kids discover a new interest in music—especially guitar, bass, and drums. If we don’t get more teachers, we’re going to have to turn some students away.”
His cheek twitched, and the corners of his mouth rose. “You want me to teach?”
Matt’s shin stung, and the moisture cooling his ankle had to be from blood seeping into his sock. He resisted checking. Watching Lina squirm was infinitely more fun than giving her another reason to look down her pert little nose.
From her milky skin—she either used a lot of sunscreen or didn’t get out much—to her flouncy sky blue top to her pointy-toed shoes, she had high maintenance written all over her. She wore subdued makeup, her lips only a shade too dark and glossy to be natural.
