by Leah Atwood
Cannon tensed and lasered a look in Ted’s direction. “That’s him? The guy you fired just a couple days ago? Is she crazy?”
A bubble of laughter escaped. Cannon’s support was so refreshing.
“Are you in danger?”
Only of having an emotional breakdown. No matter her reasons for firing Ted, he wasn’t a dangerous guy. She thought of him trying to give her an unwanted, unasked-for kiss, and had a whisper of second thought. Hopefully. She bit her lip. Shook her head. “It’s just really awkward to work with him today and I’m hurt that Aunt Flo would do that.” She worried her lip and studied him. “I’ve really been thinking about what you said the other night while we were skating.”
He tilted his head, questioning.
“I just…” She shrugged. “What else would I do? If I quit and went out on my own, I have no idea what I’d want to do.”
An impish gleam leapt into his eyes. “How about building churches with a guy who’s a little bit crazy about you?”
Her jaw dropped before she could stop it. Even he looked a little surprised and sheepish that he’d said that.
He cleared his throat. “Never mind that, for now. But I’m not leaving you alone in here with him. I don’t have anything planned today. I’ll just grab my iPad and read at the corner table. What time do you get off?”
“Two thirty, today.”
“Well, consider me your personal watchdog until then.” He winked.
She couldn’t deny that a big weight had just lifted off her shoulders. “Cannon…” She didn’t quite know what to say so she just said, “Thank you.”
He nodded. “You bet. How about a couple bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches, and a large black coffee.”
“Certainly.” She nodded. “On the house.”
He shook his head. “Not on your life. Ring me up.” He tapped the register and dug for his wallet.
“Cannon…”
He matched her tone. “Chelsea…”
She laughed. “Fine. But lunch is on me.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Are we still on for our trip to Leavenworth?”
She had talked to Anna and she’d agreed to close up for her tonight, but she couldn’t resist teasing him a little and pretended to consider while she waited for her heart rate to quiet. “I’m not sure. I might be having second thoughts about it. But…maybe.”
She could tell by his grin that he knew she was teasing him. “Well, I’ll just have to put my mind to work coming up with a way to convince you it’s a great idea.”
When his gaze dropped to her lips, she felt her face flush.
She rang up his order and handed him his change, then turned to make his sandwiches, anticipation over their afternoon together zinging through every pore.
Chapter Eight
“Ready?” Cannon stood and waited for Chelsea to join him.
They’d driven north and eaten at Chick-fil-A, and Cannon’s concern had ramped up with each passing minute. Chelsea had not been her normal talkative self. She was obviously more hurt by her Aunt’s actions and words than she wanted to let on. What she needed was a break from it all, and he was really glad they’d been able to find this segment of time to get away together.
He spoke as he held the door for her. “Do you think Havyn needs us to do anything for the wedding before we leave town?” A chill wind whipped up and scuttled down the sidewalk.
She shook her head and tucked her hands into the pockets of her parka, pulling her neck down into the collar. “No. I finished writing out the place cards the other night after work. I think everything is pretty set now until the rehearsal on Friday.”
He looked at her over the top of the car. “Good. We’re all fine then? You got someone to cover for you?”
She worked her teeth over her lower lip in a way that was becoming most familiar and endearing. “Yeah. But I didn’t tell Aunt Flo and I’m feeling a little guilty about that.”
“Is the person you asked competent and capable of doing the job?” He unclicked the locks and they both sank into their seats. He started the car to get the heat pumping, but didn’t put the car into gear. He looked over at her.
Her expression still held uncertainty. “Yes, it’s just that Aunt Flo is very particular and has always insisted that I be the one to do it.”
He narrowed his gaze. “What about training another person? Have you ever asked her about that?”
She nodded. “But she wouldn’t allow it.”
“Why not?”
Chelsea pressed her lips together and thought for a moment. Finally she said, “I’m not sure really. She just always expects me to.” There was so much exhaustion in the words, his heart nearly broke.
He reached over and took her hand, willing her to know he only wanted the best for her. “When was the last time you didn’t have to go back and close up again at night after working a full morning shift?”
She shook her head. “I don’t remember.”
He squeezed her hand. “Well we are going to Leavenworth and we are going to have a blast and you are not going to worry about what’s going on back home with the shop, understood?”
She grinned. “Getting a little bossy, aren’t we?”
He hoped she could see the depth of his concern in the look he gave her. “Only because I care about you.”
Her face turned a pretty shade of pink that emphasized the red of her hair. “Fine, Mister Bossy Pants. I’ll try.” Just then her phone rang. She dug it out of her purse and every part of her seemed to deflate. She let it ring two more times before she finally pressed the green circle on the screen and reluctantly lifted it to her ear. “Hi, Aunt Flo.” She cringed.
As he listened to her side of the conversation, it quickly became apparent that her aunt had somehow found out she’d asked someone else to close up the shop tonight.
“It’s only for one evening and Anna is more than capable. I didn’t just leave the responsibility to anyone.”
There was a pause. Chelsea picked at the zipper on her coat.
“Aunt Flo, it’s just for one night. Couldn’t we just—”
Another silence. More fidgeting.
“I see…well, okay then, I’ll be—”
Before Cannon even realized what he was doing he had his hand out asking for the phone.
Chelsea gave him a panicked look. And probably rightly so because there was so much frustration pumping through him right now he needed to take a breath and remember to be polite to a woman who might one day be family.
He could still hear her aunt’s strident recriminations as Chelsea slowly pulled the phone from her ear and handed it to him. He lifted it and listened.
“…that you think you can just run off and not do your duty to the store only proves how irresponsible you are. How many times are we going to have to talk about this, Chelsea Anne? Now you’ve gone and given me a migraine.”
That did it. “Actually, I think you are the one who gave yourself a migraine, Mrs. Tan. Chelsea needed a night off. She covered all the bases. I don’t see what the problem is here.”
“What?! Who is this?”
“As for responsibility, who has worked six days a week at the coffee shop for the past” — he looked at Chelsea— “How many years?”
“Six,” she murmured.
He launched right back in. “Who has worked six days a week at the coffee shop for the past six years, Mrs. Tan? A full shift in the morning and another couple hours each night to close up. Was that you? The one who was supposed to be the adult in this situation?”
There was a sputtering sound from the other end of the line. “Well! I never. Who is this? You put Chelsea back on this phone at once you impertinent upstart!”
Cannon took a breath. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry. I won’t do that. Chelsea needs a break. She will not be available to close up the store tonight. If you aren’t sure the girl she chose can do the job, then maybe you should find someone else.”
“But there is n
o one else!”
“Oh I’m sure you could find another — Hey, how about Ted? Since he’s such a fantastic employee that you hired him back after he almost assaulted your niece, I’m sure he’s probably more than capable of closing up?”
Chelsea winced, but there was a glimmer of awe shimmering in her eyes.
Had no one ever stood up for her before? He certainly doubted that she’d ever stood up for herself. On the other hand, the comment about Ted probably had taken things too far. “Listen, Mrs. Tan. I’m sorry. Perhaps I went a little far with that last comment. What I mean to say is that it bothers me an awful lot to see Chelsea treated so poorly by another person, especially the person who is supposed to care the most for her in all the world. So for my disrespectful tone, I’ll offer an apology. But not for my message. And not for my meaning. Please, find someone to close up tonight, or maybe you could do it just this once if you don’t trust anyone else? It’s the week of Christmas.”
The woman muttered a few choice words that it was probably good he couldn’t make out, but he could tell she was ramping up for another denial.
He wasn’t about to give her that opportunity. “Thank you, Mrs. Tan. We appreciate your help.” He pressed the screen to hang up the call and handed the phone back to Chelsea. “Better put that on silent.” He offered her a wink.
She looked uncertain. “So she didn’t ever really say yes?”
He gave what he hoped was an innocent shrug and pulled out of their parking spot. “Let’s just say I didn’t give her the opportunity to try and decline again. But if your Aunt is anything like I suspect she is, she’ll be calling back.”
Chelsea’s phone rang.
Cannon glanced at her as they waited for a woman with a stroller to cross in front of them. “Don’t answer it, Chels. Stand up for yourself. You aren’t being rude or disrespectful to expect to be treated like a human being. And you didn’t leave her in the lurch. You chose a perfectly capable employee to do the job. If she can’t live with that, it’s in her court.” He held his breath, hoping she would choose, maybe for the first time ever, to fight for herself.
Chelsea’s finger hovered over the screen. Her face was so pale it matched the skimming of frost on the window behind her. Her hand dropped lower and he was just about to give up in defeat and get onto the freeway heading back south again, when her hand changed direction and she clicked the phone over to silent instead of answering.
He wanted to grin and whoop for joy. Instead, he calmly pulled into the lane to take them north. He’d been wondering something since the first time he’d met her aunt. “How did you ever talk your aunt into letting you go on that two week mission trip last summer?”
She laughed and settled into her seat. “Well, that is a story.”
He grinned. “We have a two hour drive for you to tell me about it.”
Outside, tiny white snowflakes that wouldn’t last long once they touched the ground sifted through the air.
Chelsea adjusted the radio to one playing soft Christmas music, a faraway thoughtful look in her eyes. “It was actually Pastor Chad who talked her into letting me go. I think he sort of tricked her into letting me go without knowing it. He’d heard that I wanted to go and I think he just assumed there wouldn’t be any problem, because the next time he greeted us in the foyer at church, he shook Aunt Flo’s hand and told her how grateful he was that she’d agreed to give me the time off to go on the trip.” Chelsea’s laugh drifted like bells through the car. “You should have seen the look on her face. She stuttered and sputtered for a minute before she finally said, ‘Of course, we are happy to support the work of Christ to the heathen’.” Her last words were spoken in a perfect Aunt Flo affectation.
Cannon grinned and reached for her hand, once more. “Well, I should figure out a Christmas present to buy for Pastor Chad then. Sounds like if it wasn’t for him, you and I never would have met.” His heart nearly broke at that thought and he held her hand a little tighter.
She eased back into her seat and they settled into making small talk as the miles along the freeway sped by. Before he knew it, they were pulling into the quaint little town of Leavenworth.
Chapter Nine
Chelsea couldn’t believe she’d never been to Leavenworth before. As Cannon drove down the town’s one main street, she studied the buildings on either side. Quaint German architecture made it feel as though they’d just been transported to the Bavarian countryside. Wooden shingled houses complete with cute little balconies, were now accentuated by Christmas greenery and lighting of all sorts. As they’d climbed into the mountains, the snow had begun to stick, but she’d apparently been so busy talking to Cannon she hadn’t noticed. The main street was plowed and graveled, but everything else from the rooftops to the sidewalks glistened a sparkly white under the afternoon sun.
“How about we do a little exploring and then come back to town to eat?”
Chelsea nodded, happy to just go along for the ride and enjoy her evening off, especially since she was with Cannon. “Sure. Sounds fun.”
Cannon drove all the way through the little town – it was only a few blocks long – and then pulled off on a road that wound through evergreens and meadows. Branches drooped low, weighted down with fresh sparkling snow. The meadows looked like fresh made beds covered with down duvets.
Chelsea snuggled into the warmth of her seat and reveled in the pure beauty outside her window.
A deer picked its way along the edge of one field and Cannon slowed and eased off to the side of the road at a pull out area. In silence they watched the sleek, beautiful creature nibble a little of this and that protruding through the blanket of snow. The doe was so close Chelsea could make out the rough thickness of its winter coat.
“She’s beautiful,” Chelsea breathed.
“Definitely,” Cannon agreed.
Something in his tone made Chelsea glance his way.
His gaze wasn’t on the deer, but on her, and a gentle luminous appreciation filled his expression.
Chelsea held her breath, wanting to hide from the scrutiny and revel in it all at the same time.
He reached over and took her hand. His fingers slipped between hers, and in that moment she felt like all was right with the world. He squeezed her hand, smiled softly, and returned his focus to the deer.
She took a slow breath and followed his example. The man had quite simply stolen her resolve to keep him at arm’s length.
Something startled the doe at that moment and it leapt across the meadow in great bounds, leaving holes in the snow and an ache of appreciation in Chelsea’s heart.
Cannon glanced back at her and tipped a nod toward the meadow. “That field needs a snowman.”
Chelsea lifted her free hand and flipped it back and forth in front of his face. “We don’t have any gloves.”
He grinned and reached into the back seat. A plastic Cabela’s bag came into view a moment later, and he proudly tugged free two pairs of gloves, two knit caps, and two scarves. A soft blue gray for him, and a creamy white for her.
She smirked and set to putting everything on. “Alright, Africa, let’s see how long you last out there in the snow.”
He winced and thrust a fist over his heart. “She wounds me with her insults!”
She only laughed and climbed out into the cold.
Cannon followed to the edge of the meadow, then wrapped his arms around himself and shivered exaggeratedly. “Brrrrr! It’s cold out here!”
Pure joy bubbled up from inside her. The man made her laugh.
He dropped the act about how cold he was and took on a very serious look. “Alright, listen up.” He bumped her arm with the back of his gloved hand. “It’s a contest. You make your snowman over there, and I’ll make mine over here. And then we’ll decide which one of us is the Snowman Michelangelo.”
Skeptically, she folded her arms. “And who are the impartial judges in this contest going to be?”
“Aw, come on. We’re both adults. And
Christians at that. We can judge impartially!”
“Okay.” She bent and scooped up a handful of snow that she formed into a ball. “But mine’s going to be the winner, just saying.” She dropped the snowball she’d created into the damp snow near her feet and started rolling it toward the middle of the meadow.
Cannon only chuckled and set to work on his own creation.
She was so focused on forming and stacking the three sections she created in decreasing sizes that she didn’t pay attention to what he was creating. Carefully, she rounded out each snowball. A quick trip into the woods at the edge of the meadow provided some tree-branch arms, and rocks that she used for eyes, nose, and buttons. Her finishing touches were to put her cap on the top of the little snow head, her gloves on the ends of the stick arms, and her scarf around the chubby snow neck. She stepped back and scrutinized her work. It was pretty good if she did say so herself.
That was when she glanced over to see what Cannon had been building.
One look at his creation and she burst out laughing – bent double, thigh-slapping laughing. “You win,” she gasped out when she could catch her breath.
He had created a mother with curly twig hair and rock-outlined lips, and a father snowman with a comb-over of pine needles and a twig mustache. Both were bent at the waist and peering down in apparent horror at a child-sized mound of seemingly melted snow with a couple of wide eyes and a shocked O of a mouth pressed into it. The snowkid’s arms were reaching up toward his parents in a help-me-I’m-melting sort of way. A circle of stones made to look like a firepit completed the sculpture. Cannon was in the process of adding black rocks obviously meant to be charcoal to the center of his snowkid-melting-firepit.
He took a step back, folded his arms, and tilted his head, giving first his sculpture and then hers a once-over. “Well, for technical perfection, yours would win, but…” he strode over and wrapped his arms around her waist before she’d even realized what he was doing. He lifted her and spun her in a circle so quickly her arms gave in to the inertia and swept out to the sides. He looked up at her with an impish gleam in his eyes. “…you have to admit mine has a certain sort of humorous charm to it.”
