Fabric rustled and pews squeaked as people shifted in their seats.
“We all face decisions every day. Sometimes when we look back, we can see how a small choice resulted in big changes. You might get out to the car having forgotten your library books, dash back in for them, and proceed into town to discover an accident has taken place two minutes before, right where you would have been had you remembered the books in the first place. You might linger over coffee with friends at Java Springs long enough to be present when someone you’ve lost touch with enters.”
He had to be talking about Cheri and Kade there. But it was a reasonable question. What if Kade had left the coffee shop five minutes earlier? His life story with Cheri might have taken a different spin. Or if there hadn’t been a blizzard that night. Or... so many things. That had to mean God had orchestrated their Christmas reunion from above, right?
“If we don’t find God’s express will for each individual in the Bible, does that mean our choices aren’t important? Again, not so. We have plenty of instructions in God’s word about how to live and make decisions. The book of James instructs us, ‘if any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.’”
The dude James in the Bible was a super practical sort, not so different from James the cowboy. She knew rancher James loved God, depended on Him, likely asked for wisdom. Did he pray for her? About her? What would God tell him if he did?
What was God telling her?
“There are other scriptures about what God’s will is. I want to challenge each of you to do a personal search this week or get together with your spouse or friends and dig into your concordance. Or, you know, Google it. Pop into the church’s Facebook group and add the verses you find to the thread I’ll pin this afternoon. Let’s challenge each other to find out what God’s will is directly from His word, and not from our assumptions and long-held beliefs. Let’s pray.”
After Pastor Roland’s prayer, James and Garret returned to the platform and struck up the opening chords to John Waller’s While I’m Waiting.
Was she doing anything useful while she waited? Was she serving? Worshiping? Or was she doing everything she could to take things into her own hands and influence the outcome? What would happen if she simply asked God for wisdom while seeking His will boldly and confidently?
* * *
Sunday lunch at the Flying Horseshoe could be labeled family dinner. Meg, Eli, and Aiden might cruise through a time or two during the week, but Sunday after church wasn’t optional for any of them.
Today, James wished it was. He’d rather take Jigsaw out for a run and think about Pastor Roland’s sermon with the wind on his face. Instead, as always, it would be a family dissection.
Meg and Tori were already into it in the kitchen when he strolled in.
“I think he meant there’s no single perfect path for anyone.” Meg’s tone indicated this might be a repeat. “Which totally makes sense. I’m not the only person who ever screwed up with bad decisions.”
“And then turned her life around,” Mom put in. Pans clanked in the kitchen.
“But wouldn’t it have been better if you hadn’t made a mess?” Tori insisted.
“God gives second chances. I don’t think of Aiden or Eli as second best.”
Yikes. This wasn’t a conversation in which James wished to participate. He veered toward the family room where his nephew had just dumped out a heap of bright-colored plastic building blocks leftover from years gone by. James dropped beside the mound. “Hey, Aiden.”
“Unca James! How you?”
“Good, buddy. Did you go to Sunday school today?”
“Wi’ Miss Lauren.”
Right. He should have remembered where that would lead him. Where all pathways in his mind led: Lauren. “Did you learn about Jesus today?”
“Yeah. ’Bout He died.”
Lauren did a good job with the little ones. “He did die. Did she tell you the rest?”
“He alive again. He lub me.”
“You got it in one, buddy.” Easter had been a few weeks back. Pastor Roland might have moved on to different sermon topics, but apparently the kids’ curriculum was still on the subject. Probably just as well. Today’s discourse would be hard to bring down to a three-year-old level. Or maybe not. God’s will for little kids was simple and pure: obeying their parents, being kind and thankful... what else?
His brother-in-law lowered himself beside Aiden. “How tall a tower can you build? Bigger than Uncle James?”
James glanced at Eli and caught the grin. “Aiden might be able to, but can you?”
“Oh, a challenge! You’re on.”
Dad chuckled from his recliner near the fireplace. “Is that God’s will for you boys?”
James fitted several blocks together to form a solid base. “Think He cares one way or the other?”
“The results might prove which one of us God loves best,” Eli teased.
“Yeah, totally. I can see that. It’s probably you. You’re practically a saint for loving my sister.”
Eli began stacking blocks. “But I don’t have a book of the Bible named after me.”
“No, but your biblical alter-ego was a pretty good guy. Followed God.”
“Also, he had lazy, rebellious sons.”
“Aiden will never be rebellious, will you, buddy?” James ruffled the little guy’s hair.
Aiden grabbed James’s tower and removed the red blocks from the top.
James tugged it back, capping it with blue ones. “Hey, are you trying to make me lose?”
“Good job, Aiden.” Eli worked faster.
“Now you’re cheating, dude. Not only that, you’re teaching your kid that the end justifies the means.”
“Am I?” Eli asked blandly. “God’s will for dads is not to exasperate their children. Says so in the Bible. That’d be Ephesians.”
“There’s more to it.” James reached for the yellow blocks Eli had pulled to the side, elbowing his brother-in-law’s tower in the process and knocking it in pieces. “Oops.”
“Some accident there, dude.” Eli dusted his hands together, and James’s tower tumbled. “You’re right, there’s more. Also supposed to bring him up in the training and instruction of the Lord.”
“And possibly be a good example of treating your brother with kindness and respect?” James swept a circle through the scattered blocks, gathering them to his side.
“Playing fair.” Eli scooped the blocks back. “A good skill to learn.”
Aiden danced in the cleared spot.
James leaned back on his hands and laughed.
“People are already commenting on Roland’s sermon on Facebook.” Dad waved his phone. “Gloria Delgado added one of my favorites. Proverbs three, verse five. ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.’ I’m going to like her comment, because she’s right. That’s a clear indication of what God wants us to do.” He focused hard and poked at the phone with one big finger.
James exchanged a grin with Eli. “I’ll check the group later and see if I think of anything to add.” Likely he’d do the same as his father. Like a bunch of comments and carry on with his week.
It was going to be another busy one.
Chapter Eight
“That house James is planning to build is going to be suh-weet.”
Lauren jerked her head upright and stared at Denae. Since when was her friend hanging out with James after hours? Relax. Relax. Don’t bite her head off. You’ve been pushing her his direction, after all.
Yeah, but that didn’t mean she actually wanted it to come true.
“I ran into him and the guy from Timber Framing Plus at Java Springs this afternoon going over floor plans. James wanted a woman’s opinion on a few things.” Denae dropped into the chair across Lauren’s tiny kitchen table, forked her fingers into her long black hair at the temples, and began French braiding it.
“Oh? Like what?” Lauren could do this. Maintain nonchalance. Be happy for James and Denae.
“There were a few options, like whether to have the interior walls made all of wood or drywalled.” Denae shuddered. “Imagine that much wood, plus on the cabinets and floors. Men. Don’t they know a bit of variety and color never hurt anyone?”
Wood suited James. It was raw, natural. Of course, he’d go for that look. “So, you told him drywall?”
“Definitely.” Denae slid the elastic from her wrist and tied the end of her braid. “Not sure I convinced him, though.”
Lauren managed a smile. “I imagine he’ll make his own decision.” That he’d asked Denae at all grated.
“The contractor, Brent Callahan, offered pros and cons both ways, so I’m not sure what James will choose. Brent has been building houses for six or seven years now and worked for his uncle before that. He has quite a bit of experience. He’s cute.” Denae sighed. “But married.”
“There are plenty of unmarried cute men right here in Saddle Springs. Cowboys have to beat contractors any day of the week. What’s not to love about jeans and cowboy hats?”
“I know, right? And some of the ranchers around here have plenty of money.”
Not all of them. Lauren knew a few who struggled to pay their veterinary bills.
“James said he wanted to build a small house,” Denae went on. “His parents reminded him he’d have a family one day, and he’d wish he’d built a bigger one.”
Visions of little Carmichaels with their daddy’s dark hair and bright blue eyes darted through Lauren’s mind. James was so hands-on with his nephew, she could imagine him with half a dozen of his own. She looked at Denae more closely. Would dark brown eyes dominate over blue? “So, who’s winning?”
“I think they’re compromising. He’s going with two bedrooms down and two up, but it’s fairly compact at under two thousand square feet on the main floor.”
Compared to the duplex, that was palatial. Not that Lauren was jealous. Much. It wasn’t the space so much as the location and the vistas. And the man, if she forced herself to face it.
Why couldn’t she just invite James out for a ride and tell him how she really felt? Put everything out there once and for all?
No way. Not after Conor back at MSU. He’d thought she should be happy as a veterinary assistant and didn’t need more schooling. He’d thought she should live far from her intrusive mother. Well, she couldn’t quite fault the guy for that one but, in reality, she hadn’t quite matched Conor’s expectations. He had a specific slot for “future wife” — good education, but not more than him. Pretty... and one who didn’t stress-eat during exam week then wear sweats to hide the extra pounds. The perfect cook and hostess, while still holding down the job that would help maintain the household. Doubtless Conor’s children would all be scrubbed behind the ears, well-mannered, and never rip holes in the knees of their jeans. If they were allowed jeans, that is.
Point was, Lauren had tried to be the woman Conor wanted, only to discover he’d never be satisfied. He hadn’t even bothered with the it’s not you, it’s me bit. No, he’d put it all on her. Her unreasonable expectations for what was obviously beyond her, even with the coveted acceptance letter to veterinary college in hand. He felt sorry for her, for the sure disappointments to follow, but he wouldn’t be there for any of them. He was done.
And then she’d overheard him with his buddies on campus, laughing over her unreasonable expectations. Who did she think she was, choosing stinky barns over dating an architect with a partnership in his dad’s esteemed company? Her inheritance wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t that cute, anyway. And not interested in going to the gym to get rid of that extra fat. Conor was humiliated. Whew — he’d had a lucky escape.
Her ears had burned as she scurried away. And she’d redoubled her efforts to be enough in herself, since Conor was right — no real man would want her. Good thing she didn’t need one.
“Lauren?”
She blinked at Denae. “Um... sorry? I was lost there for a minute. What did you say?”
Denae grinned. “James asked why you and I didn’t come out and have a look at the building site. I told him we already had.”
Play it cool. “He invited me? I didn’t know he was the kind of guy who couldn’t make decisions without a group-think.”
“Aw, come on. You’ve known him forever, haven’t you?” Denae leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “I really wish I’d stuck with my dad as a teen. Think what I missed with all these hunky cowboys. They were just scrawny kids last time I knew them. And now Kade’s already taken, but there’s Trevor or James or that new guy, Garret.” She sighed. “Who would you pick?”
Lauren stared at her friend sitting there with her eyes closed and a dreamy smile lifting her lips. “Who would I pick?”
Denae opened her eyes. “Yes. That’s what I asked.”
“I wouldn’t pick any of them.” Lauren surged to her feet and poured herself an iced tea from the pitcher in the fridge. “Want some?”
“Sure. What are you looking for, then? Though I can’t see why you’d pass up one of these cowboys. Trevor is to-die-for cute, but he’s kind of grumpy. James isn’t quite as adorable, but he’s more easygoing. And Garret...”
“He’s pretty nice.”
“I’m not sure about Garret. I mean, he seems cool, but maybe too young for me. But, wow, is he talented. Imagine having a husband who serenaded you with his gorgeous voice while playing the piano.”
Lauren had imagined it many a time, at least if the man were James and the instrument a guitar. “Trevor and James both have great voices, too. Trevor and Kade even used to sing duets in church when they were kids.”
“Trevor sings?” Denae straightened, eyes wide. “In public? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
He hadn’t, not for a few years. What had changed? Lauren didn’t know. She hadn’t really thought about it. The oldest Delgado brother had never been on her radar. No, her heart had been completely filled with James Carmichael for nearly fourteen years. She’d tried to get her mind off him with Conor, but it hadn’t worked.
“He sings bass. But James... didn’t you hear him Sunday? He has an amazing tenor.” Lauren forced a grin as she leaned back against the sink cabinet. She needed to get Denae back to James. “And he plays anything with strings. You’ve got to admit guitars and banjos and ukuleles are more portable than pianos.”
So many campfire memories. If only she’d managed to snag James back when they were teens, before she became his pity project. She’d had enough of that from Conor. The only problem was, did James even remember? Because that would make all the difference.
* * *
James rolled a fresh tan color over the living room walls in Cabin Two. Every spring they freshened up one or two of the guest cabins, casting a critical eye on all the decorating choices. His sister had decided to go with an Old West theme this time around.
“What color are you going to paint the walls in your new house?” Tori bit her bottom lip as she cut in around the glass doors that led to the deck overlooking the lake.
“One of the options is square log interior walls.” James reloaded his roller. “That seems easier than choosing and maintaining colors.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Uh... no?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a guy.”
“I hate to break it to you...”
“I know, I know. But, seriously, James. Unless you’re going with painted cabinetry and carpet or tiles on the floor, that’s a dumb idea.”
His sister sounded like Denae. “I happen to like wood. The hickory cabinets look good with wrought iron handles.” He shot her a glance. “I was thinking horseshoe shaped.”
She pivoted, a smear of tan paint hitting the glass. “No.”
James laughed. “Clean up your mess, girl.”
“Clean up your decorating skills,” she muttered, grabbing a rag. “Seri
ously. You need a woman.”
He wanted one, too. At least, if her name was Lauren Yanovich, but she was back to avoiding him as though he harbored a den of rattlers.
“I think I’ll get the girls together and stage an intervention.”
“Sounds fun,” he replied blandly. “Just remember who gets the final say. Someone who’ll live there.” Lauren.
“If you were dating someone, I’d have a better idea whom to send over.”
“If I were dating someone, you wouldn’t feel the need.”
“True.”
They worked in blissful silence for a few minutes. It wouldn’t last, but he’d take it while he had it.
“So, why don’t you date?”
To say it was because he hadn’t met the right woman yet would be lying. James generally tried to avoid that where possible. He poured more paint into the tray and reloaded his roller.
Tori paused, brush in the air, watching him.
He glared back. “What? Do I have a smear on my face?”
“I can’t figure out why you haven’t been out in so long I can’t even remember when or who it was.”
James shrugged as he tackled the last wall in the room. “We’re taking this color around into the eating nook, right?”
“Yes. And you’re avoiding me.”
“It’s just not the right time.”
“The right time?”
He could hear the disbelief in his sister’s voice. He didn’t need to see her face. “Yep. That’s what I said. Did the new bedding come in for this place?”
“James.”
“Victoria.” He mimicked the tone in her voice. “I could ask the same questions of you.” He waited a beat. “Notice I’m not doing that. You know why? Because it’s none of my business. Just like my dating or lack thereof is none of yours.”
“You’re so annoying,” she muttered.
He bit his tongue instead of throwing the taunt back at her. One of them had to be the grownup here.
The Cowboy’s Mixed-Up Matchmaker Page 6
