Page 36 of More Than This Land

Thunder rumbled.

“Storm coming. We should head back. We can beat it if we go now.” He moved to the window. Dark clouds massed on the western horizon, moving fast.

“Or we could stay.” Claire set her notebook aside. “Watch the rain.”

No. His first instinct screamed the loudest. They were losing daylight. The trail would be slippery. They had responsibilities waiting at the ranch. Every logical reason lined up in neat formation.

Claire’s expression stopped the words before they escaped. Hope and vulnerability mixed in her eyes in a request that had nothing to do with weather.

“Yeah.” The word came out rough, and he paused to clear his throat. “We could stay.”

Relief softened her features. “What about the horses?”

“They can’t come inside, and the shed is too unstable. They’ll be okay.” They were used to this kind of weather, and they’d stick close to each other. “It’ll be over pretty quick.” That’s how these spring showers went.

Claire moved to the window as the first drops hit the tin roof. The sound started soft, pattering and hesitant. Then the clouds opened, and rain drummed overhead in a rushing wall of sound that filled the cabin and ruined any chance at conversation.

Luke stood beside Claire, his shoulder brushing hers. The world outside transformed through the streaked glass. Rain blurred the landscape into impressionist strokes. Lightning flickered. Thunder followed, rattling the windowpanes.

“I love storms.” Claire’s breath fogged the glass. “Always have. Something about the power and wildness—the way you can’t control any of it. You just have to surrender and experience it.”

Rain sheeted down, creating a cocoon. No ranch responsibilities. Just the two of them, suspended in time while the storm raged.

“I’ve always hated not knowing what’s coming. Storms, uncertainty, anything I can’t predict and prepare for. Makes me feel out of control.”

“Is that so terrible?” Claire turned from the window.

How did he explain something he wasn’t entirely sure he understood, and why did he want to? No one knew about the deepest, darkest questions he hid behind. His hands curled at his sides before he forced them open. “I need to be perfect. I have to prove that I’m worthy of the ranch and the legacy that was entrusted to me. If I fail, then that’s it.” He slashed a hand through the air. “Faithfulness and control are the same to me.”

The admission sharpened the air between them. Luke’s breathing had gone shallow. Heat crawled up his neck despite the cool air seeping through the cabin walls.

“Luke.” The word barely carried over the rain’s percussion, but he felt it in every part of his being when she stepped closer and put a hand on his chest. “You already are worthy.” Her fingers splayed over his heart, and he lost the ability to see beyond her face. “Not because of your systems or your management skills or your efficiency. You’re worthy because you’re Wade and Ruth’s son. You love this land and these people, and you show up every day and try to do right even when it’s hard. That’s what makes you worthy. You are a child of God. He helps you become who He wants you to be.”

Luke’s vision blurred. He blinked hard, jaw clenching. “What if faithfulness isn’t enough? What if I try my best and it still falls apart?”

“Then it falls apart.” Claire’s hand found his, fingers threading together. “You pick up the pieces and try again. That’s faith. We’re not guaranteed success, but we have a promise that you’re not alone in trying.”

Her hand in his became the only real thing in this moment, in a world determined to spin out of control. His thumb moved across her knuckles, tracing the delicate bones.

She shivered and leaned closer. “I’m not trying to make this about me, but I understand where you’re coming from.”

He tightened his grip on her hand, the other settling on her shoulder where her braid rested.

Thunder crashed overhead. Claire startled with a sharp inhale. “After the shop closed, I started helping people for free. Church families. Neighbors. Anyone who needed financial guidance. I needed to feel in control too, but it taught me that I can’t prevent pain or guarantee outcomes. I want to be able to love through uncertainty.” Her chin lifted, her breath whispering over his cheek. “You can be faithful even when you’re terrified. You can trust God with results while you steward what’s in front of you.”

Pressure built behind his ribs. “That’s what you’ve been trying to teach me.”

“I’ve been trying to show you what took me years to learn.” She squeezed his hand. “Control is an illusion. The only thing we can really control is whether we love people well in the time we have them.”

The rain softened into a steady rhythm. Lightning flickered in the distance and the rolling thunder no longer threatened to break the walls. Tension coiled tighter in his belly.

They stood close enough for every eyelash to stand out in stark detail. He counted her breaths and matched his until they breathed as one. Claire tipped toward him, her breath catching when he rolled her braid between his fingers. “Claire.”

“Yeah?” Her pulse jumped in her throat.

“I need you to know something.” He traced her jawline with his thumb and tried very hard not to think about every reason why this was a bad idea. “I’m not good at letting people in or being vulnerable. I’m awful at trusting people won’t leave when they see all the broken pieces.”

She rested her cheek over his heart and sighed. “I’m not good at it either.”