Of course Keanan would notice. Of course he’d take the extra step to ensure the guy felt welcomed.
“Have you ever participated in Alpha before?”
Chelsea swung back to Rosemary. Had the older woman noticed where her attention had gone? If so, she didn’t let on. “No, I never have. This is all new to me.”
“We sure appreciate having you here. I’ll help when I can as I’ve done for Jean, but you’ll have a rotating staff each week.” Rosemary glanced at the clock. “Time to set out the food.”
Chelsea did as she was told, setting bowls and platters on the serving table just outside the kitchen pass-through. Against the wall, another table held beverages, including a gurgling coffee urn and a kettle for tea.
Ed Grayson called everyone to attention, prayed a short grace, then invited the group to fill their plates. Several round tables lay beyond the serving area. They looked naked and uninviting, without even a tablecloth. There should be flowers or some kind of centerpiece.
Chelsea nodded to herself. Next week she’d make sure. She’d need to keep them low, but the tables required something. She stood in the kitchen doorway watching the people fill their plates. A few she recognized, besides Mr. Graysen and Keanan. Maybe other church members were also leading discussion groups.
Keanan parked at a table with the young man he’d talked to and a mix of people of various ages. He glanced her way but didn’t seem to make eye contact.
“Would you refill the water jugs, dear?” came Mona’s voice from behind her.
Chelsea jumped. “Right on it.” This was her job. She should be paying better attention. Keanan’s job was to get to know people, to make friends, and to guide them to salvation. Hers was to make sure the food didn’t run out.
She analyzed the serving table as she went by with more water. No danger of a shortage.
Over the murmur of voices and the clink of cutlery, Keanan laughed. It seemed to catch around his table. The young guy grinned, looking more at ease when Chelsea glanced their way. So did the others at the table. Keanan was good at this. Good with people.
Maybe she was the only person in the world who’d taken one look at him and decided he was a jerk. Reassessment was painful. It had been easy to dismiss him as an overgrown hippie when he didn’t have a car and lived in a tent. Or even a grain bin. A little more difficult when his genuine interest in putting others first shone through.
She didn’t want to approve of him in any way, but it was hard not to.
* * *
The lights came on in the darkened lounge when the opening video of Alpha ended. Keanan glanced toward Wesley next to him. What had the younger man thought of the presentation?
Wesley shook his head. “Weird. The stuff he talked about, those are my questions. Sometimes you think there has to be more to life than a hamster wheel, right?”
So much more. Keanan’s heart expanded. “There are answers to your questions. We’ll be discussing them Wednesday evenings for the next couple of months.”
Wesley’s head jerked in a nod. “I’ll be back. Not sure I buy into all this stuff, but maybe that guy can convince me.”
It wouldn’t be the man in the video who would persuade Wesley, but God Himself working in the young man’s heart. At the moment, Wesley wouldn’t understand those words.
Keanan nodded toward the now-dark screen. “He presents biblical truth in a down-to-earth way. I think you’ll find it interesting. Challenging, perhaps.”
Wesley shrugged as he got to his feet. “Life is full of challenge. That’s how you know you’re alive, right?” He looked around the lounge, where other people talked quietly on their way to the foyer. “Thanks for inviting me, man. See you next week.” He jammed a baseball cap on his head and strode for the door.
Keanan watched him disappear. Thank You, Lord. Your hand is on that one. So many here tonight who need to meet You. To know You. May we be sensitive to minister in Your way.
Chelsea carried a plate of cookies into the kitchen at the far end of the lounge. Had she watched the video, or been too busy cleaning up after the meal? What would she think? He’d talked to Sierra enough to know the sisters had been raised by believing parents in a rather sheltered environment. How much of Chelsea’s faith was her own, and how much a hand-me-down?
No, he had no right to question the depth of her faith. That was between her and the Lord, yet the question stayed in his mind as he followed her progress around the back of the room.
Pastor Ron’s hand clasped Keanan’s shoulder, and he blinked back to attention. The other leadership team members gathered around.
“How do you think it went tonight?” asked Ron.
Ed Graysen took a seat beside Keanan. “God brought seekers.”
Tracy, a bubbly young woman with white-blond hair, nodded. “I was so excited to see the girls from my office here. They said they’d be back. I can hardly wait to see what happens!”
“Same,” Keanan put in. “I invited Wesley last week, and he’s definitely interested in learning more.”
“We had about seven people under about thirty-five here tonight.” Pastor Ron looked from Keanan to Tracy. “Are you two comfortable working together with that group? I know the groups don’t have to be divided that way, but sometimes it is easier for young folk to feel the gospel is relevant when their group leaders are closer to their own age.”
Keanan glanced at Tracy and nodded. “Yes, that works for me.”
Tracy grinned. “Sounds great. I’ve never led before, so I’m not sure what to expect.”
“Keanan has. Observe for a while, and you’ll soon feel comfortable.” Pastor Ron turned to the other leaders as they discussed how to split the remaining guests into groups.
Keanan watched Tracy for a moment as she listened. She seemed to have enthusiasm for the program and for the Lord. When the team bowed together, Tracy’s heartfelt prayer resonated with Keanan. She’d be a fine partner.
After prayer, Ed headed for the kitchen. Keanan remembered seeing Ed’s wife back there helping with dinner. The two older women drifted away as Pastor Ron strode to the sound booth to shut down the equipment.
“How long have you been in Galena Landing?” asked Tracy. “I’ve seen you on worship team a few times.”
Keanan pulled his attention back to her. “Since spring. I serve however I’m needed. Where the Lord guides me.”
“Where do you work?”
Ah, the big question. Hopefully this was mild curiosity and not a personal interest. “I live and work at Green Acres Farm.”
Her face registered nothing. “Where’s that?”
“Over on Thompson Road, next to the mountain. It’s a cooperative where we grow much of our own food.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of it. I went to school with Liz Nemesek. Her brother is part of that group, right?”
“I haven’t met Liz, but if you mean Zachary Nemesek, yes. He and his wife live and work on the farm, as do many others.”
Lights dimmed in the back of the room, and Keanan looked up to see Chelsea, sweater and purse tossed over her shoulder, striding near, her unfriendly gaze seemingly fixed on Tracy.
He frowned. What was all that about?
Chelsea’s eyes didn’t waver from Tracy’s as she spoke. “Ready to go, Keanan?”
“Yes.” He stood, flexing his shoulders. Sitting for so long was more difficult than physical labor. “Good to meet you, Tracy. I’ll see you next week.”
He didn’t miss the speculative gleam as Tracy looked between him and Chelsea. Discomfort sifted through him. Tracy couldn’t be interested in him any more than Chelsea could. Neither woman needed to size up the competition. Chelsea had made her dislike of him obvious enough in the few weeks they’d known each other. Besides, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t looking for romance.
Tracy stretched a hand to Chelsea. “I’m Tracy Grindle. I don’t believe we’ve met?”
Was she offering sincere friendship? That would be good. They mus
t be about the same age.
“Chelsea Riehl. Nice to meet you.” She sidled a bit closer to Keanan as she shook Tracy’s hand.
Awkward. Keanan took a step back, further from the two women who seemed to analyze each other. He glanced toward the door.
Pastor Ron waited by the light switch, a bemused expression on his face.
Keanan turned to the impasse before him. “Time to go, ladies. Pastor Ron’s ready to lock up.”
Neither moved.
He grasped both women by their elbows and propelled them toward the door. “We can talk more outside.”
Not that either seemed to have anything to say.
Chapter 7
“You’re doing just fine, Chelsea.”
She sat at the kitchen table next door at the Nemeseks’ farmhouse, going over the church phone list with Rosemary, a cup of tea in front of each of them.
“I wish more people would be willing to volunteer.” She’d called at least two dozen households and barely had the next couple of weeks of food covered. “Don’t they realize what’s going on at Alpha? How important it is?”
Rosemary covered Chelsea’s hand with her own. “People are busy going to work every day and running their kids to programs when they get home.”
“What kind of programs does Galena Landing have?”
The older woman chuckled. “Nothing like Portland, I’m sure. But there are rotating classes at the recreation complex. Some families are into sports like football. Or they just collapse around the television set when they get home.”
Chelsea bit her lip. This was the difference from running events as a business to helping in the church. When she’d been hired, she could sub out parts to other businesses that specialized in certain areas. Caterers. Decorators. Entertainers. Everyone got a paycheck, and the clients were delighted with an event that had gone off without a hitch. She’d never had to operate with only volunteers before.
No wonder Mr. Graysen had been so thrilled she’d said yes. Now it was her job to get enough people together to actually do it.
That wasn’t entirely fair. The Alpha leaders, although volunteers, had been picked by Pastor Ron. She’d thought the man a good judge of people until he’d put that Tracy as co-leader with Keanan. Didn’t Pastor Ron know Tracy had a crush on Keanan? That had to be distracting to the group.
Chelsea had watched the interaction from the safety of the kitchen pass-through for two weeks now. Oh, Tracy seemed to remember the purpose of the group, but Chelsea had eyes. She could see, glasses or not. Read between the lines.
She took a sip of tea, pulling her attention back to the list in front of her and the woman around the corner of the table.
“Have you asked the small group leaders if their groups would like to take on a week each?”
Chelsea drew a thick line across the paper. “No. I didn’t know there were small groups. I should never have taken this on until I got to know everyone better. I spend half my time explaining who I am and what I do at Green Acres.”
Rosemary grinned. “The community is curious, for sure, though many of the church people have been out to visit a time or two.”
Chelsea doodled while she thought. Wait. A circle with a conical roof? Hopefully Rosemary hadn’t seen that. Chelsea quickly added a few more lines to disguise the shape.
“Ask Pastor Ron about the small group leaders. Let him know you’re having difficulties with this.”
Chelsea quirked a lopsided grin. “I hate to admit when I can’t do something myself.”
“But it’s not your burden to carry alone.”
“No?” Chelsea raised her eyebrows at the older woman. “Mr. Graysen asked me to coordinate this, and I said yes. That makes it mine.”
“I don’t see it that way at all. The body is there to support each other, and when we’re not doing a good job of it, it’s okay to get a reminder.”
“I suppose.” Rosemary had a point, but that didn’t mean Chelsea had to concede inwardly. She’d wanted to be the best volunteer coordinator ever to help out at Galena Gospel Church. Oh, man. What she wanted was everyone to know what a terrific job she’d done.
What kind of attitude was that? Shame crept up her cheeks as she stared at the blurring paper. She slid a finger behind her glasses to dab the tears before Rosemary could notice.
Rosemary pulled the paper around the corner. “So the Green Acres gang is providing the meal next week? That’s great.”
Back on solid ground. Chelsea nodded. “They were happy to help. We’re doing tacos that night. Everyone is pitching in to prep at the farm, and then Claire and Noel are coming to serve and clean up.”
“Other groups will do it, too.” Rosemary nudged the paper back. “Give Pastor Ron a call. He can’t know how things are if no one tells him. Let him advise you.”
Chelsea sighed and picked up the teacup. “I might have to.”
“Is this how you are with the Lord, too?” Rosemary asked gently.
“Am I how?” Chelsea’s eyebrows pulled together as her eyes narrowed.
“Forgive me if I’m too forward.” The older woman closed her eyes a moment. “Do you ask God only when it’s something you can’t handle alone, or do you live every day in full dependence on Him?”
Chelsea opened her mouth in protest, but the question stabbed deeply. “Why bother Him when I don’t need to?”
“I understand where you’re coming from. I truly do. Before Steve got sick a few years ago, I was much the same. I read the Word, prayed, and went to church.” Rosemary crinkled a smile. “Even pitched in wherever I could. I didn’t really need to depend on God for my day-to-day life. Everything was under control.”
Was a response needed? Hopefully not.
“But then Steve contracted Guillain-Barré Syndrome. He went from a vibrant and healthy man to someone who couldn’t walk. Could barely feed himself. In the space of a few days, everything changed for him… and for me.”
Chelsea was interested in spite of herself. “I knew he’d had some neurological disease. He’s much better now, though, isn’t he?” Of course he was. He walked, talked, and ate with the family. But she wouldn’t have called him vibrant and healthy. More like frail.
“He is much better than he was, but it’s taken several years of painful rehabilitation to get here, and he’ll never be the same as he was before. The point I’m trying to make is that we never know when things will change. When our carefully-constructed life will come apart at the seams.” Rosemary’s hand clasped Chelsea’s. “Don’t wait for that time to dig your roots deeply into God. Practice taking the little things to Him. Share your day with Him as though He were your friend. Your lover.”
Whoa, that sounded a bit personal.
A tap sounded at the kitchen door a second before Keanan’s large shaggy head appeared around it. His gaze flicked between the two of them. “Sorry if I’m interrupting anything. I’m here to spend time with Steve.”
“Come on in.” Rosemary beckoned. “Chelsea and I were just going over the need for volunteers to bring food for Alpha.”
“We’re doing it this week, right?” His disconcerting green eyes latched on Chelsea’s.
She nodded, gathering up her things. “Yes, this week is taken care of. I should be going.”
“Oh, no need to rush off. Steve and I will be in the other room.”
Rosemary thumbed toward the archway to the living room. “He’s waiting for you.”
Another side of the multi-faceted Keanan Welsh.
* * *
“I thought you’d moved into your grain bin already.”
Keanan glanced at Chelsea. She stood across the kitchen peninsula from where he served up breakfast Saturday morning.
“I did. Why?”
“Just curious why you were over at Nemeseks’.”
“I was visiting my friends.” Most of the farm’s inhabitants sat at the table behind Chelsea, chatting about the day’s work to come. He lowered his voice. “In the weeks I stayed wit
h them, I learned that Steve has some struggles his wife cannot easily help with. I go over at least twice a week and keep an eye on him while he’s getting some exercise on the stationary bike. As he pedals, we talk about the scriptures. Share with each other what we are learning.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again before sighing. “Of course.”
Irritation shafted through him. “Why does it matter to you?”
“Merely curious.” She shrugged.
That woman never said or did anything without a purpose. Simple curiosity? Unlikely.
“Steve and I both value our time together. He mentors me spiritually, and I help him with some of his physical needs. Our relationship works well for both of us.”
“That’s good.” Chelsea’s gaze flicked to his then away. “What’s for breakfast?”
Had that been vulnerability in her eyes? “I scrambled a griddle-full of eggs, and there’s bacon in the warmer. May I serve you?”
“Thank you.” She bit her lip. “I’d appreciate it.”
Keanan turned to fill a plate then slid it across the counter to her.
She perched on a stool and bent her head, curls obscuring her face and those pink glasses.
Why didn’t she join the others at the table? He’d been just about to do so, but it seemed awkward to leave her alone at the peninsula. When she picked up her fork, he came around with his own plate. “Mind if I join you?”
She shrugged. “Sit wherever you like.”
Now that was a resounding welcome. He slid onto the counter stool next to her. “I thought you might like some company.”
Her shoulder twitched.
Perhaps he’d thought wrong. But he was here now. He might as well try to draw her out in conversation. One thing about Chelsea. She could never stay quiet for long. “What are you up to today?”
She glanced sidelong at him as she swallowed a bite of scrambled eggs. “I’m not sure. We’re finally caught up canning tomatoes, so I might paint my spare room today.”
Plum Upside Down (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 5) Page 5
