profits. He later apologized, saying it was all a misunderstanding, but the damage was done. Connie was certain the money was never returned. It was little wonder the people had no heart for working the mill.
“It’s a pity we aren’t closer to Uncle Alex’s lumber mills. I’m sure he would help make things right. I wonder if there’s someone we can contact about the matter. Someone who actually cares.”
“Connie.” Her father’s disapproving tone let her know she’d crossed a line.
“I’m doing my best,” Clint said, looking wounded.
Connie knew she’d hurt him. She didn’t know why she felt so harsh toward him. Certainly, part of it was based on the past. Maybe all of it was. She hated the way he’d made fun of her when they’d first met in Portland, and she hated that he’d let her mother and father be blamed for something he knew they had no part in. Of course, there was the possibility that Clint knew nothing of the accusations. After all, she hadn’t had time to ask her father what, if anything, he and Clint had discussed about the situation.
It was only then that she realized she was very angry with Clint. She didn’t feel at all like showing him grace, and a sense of guilt begin to rise within her. She needed to show kindness—to forgive the past and move forward. Her attitude was completely uncalled for. Just because a godly young man who worked with her father had spurned her romantic notions was no call to be ugly.
“I’m sorry.” She barely breathed the words, but at least she meant them. “I’m just frustrated that things look so bad. I suppose it could always be worse, and I know the storm wasn’t your fault, Clint.”
He met her eyes and smiled. “I probably had it coming. I’ve been rather discouraged with the way things have gone. You can ask your father. We’ve talked about it on more than one occasion.”
“We have, and no doubt will again,” Connie’s father declared. He looked at Connie’s mother.
“Well, I need to get back to work.” Clint smiled and headed for the door.
“Clint, you will join us for supper, won’t you?” Connie’s mother asked.
He glanced over his shoulder with a smile. “I’d like that, Mrs. Browning.”
“Wonderful. We’ll sit down at six.”
Connie helped her mother with kitchen chores while her father and Tom got better acquainted. Later, while supper simmered on the stove, she made her way outside and filled Tom in on what she’d discussed with her folks. He reciprocated, telling her what he and Clint had discussed. His words seemed guarded, however, and Connie couldn’t understand what was going on with him. They had retired to the small front porch, and Connie was determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.
“What’s wrong? You haven’t been yourself all day.”
Tom shrugged. “I’ve just stepped into an investigation that could see your folks imprisoned. This area is new to me, and I’m burdened with the fact that the Indian people here might never accept me, to name just a few things.”
She leaned against the porch rail. “Is that all?”
He laughed. “Isn’t it enough?”
Connie considered that a moment. “I just feel like there’s a wall between us. Are you just tired, or have I offended you?”
“I’m not offended. Just curious.”
She frowned. “About what?”
“You never told your folks that I was an atheist.”
Connie shrugged. “I figured it was yours to tell.”
“You know we used to have conversations about God, but then you stopped sharing your beliefs. Why was that?”
Guilt oozed from the places she’d stuffed it. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to hurt your feelings or destroy our friendship.”
“And you thought it would?”
Connie looked away, unable to bear his gaze. “I’m not sure what I thought. I knew you felt the way you did and that I would probably never convince you otherwise. It bothered me so much that you didn’t believe in God.”
“Then why didn’t you just say that?”
She sighed. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do.” His tone was accusing.
Connie had never felt so uncomfortable in her life. She knew exactly why she had stopped talking about God and the Bible—why she hadn’t continued to encourage Tom to believe in God.
“Connie?”
She forced herself to look at him. “Some of the things you were saying scared me. My own faith wasn’t very strong—in fact, I really hadn’t made it my own. I was still relying on my mother and father’s faith. I knew I needed to focus on