An image of a baby with red curly hair popped into her mind. Would he have blue eyes or green?
Chelsea bit her lip and savagely chopped a chunk of meat off the piece in front of her. Those were definitely thoughts that led nowhere at all. Keanan might be powerfully attractive in ways she was unable to parse, but if he knew what was good for him, he’d get out of her head and stay there.
Whack. Too bad she couldn’t tell him that.
* * *
Zach wiped a sleeve across his forehead. “Where did Noel go?”
Keanan glanced up. They worked hard enough that even the November air couldn’t keep them from working up a sweat. “He delivered a bowl of meat inside a few minutes ago, but isn’t back yet.”
“That’s not like him,” Zach muttered. “Here, want to take the saws-all and cut the ribs into pieces maybe four inches long?”
Keanan eyed the electric saw. “Sure.”
“Then they can go inside for wrapping, too.” Zach turned the front quarter on the worktable. “Here’s a good shoulder roast. I’ll bone it out. The boss says we want soup bones by the mega-canner full, so when you’re done with the ribs, want to start slicing through the pile? Just keep in mind the size of the soup pot.”
“I can do that.”
Zach glanced toward the door again, shrugged, and picked up a knife. “Good thing about soup is that we don’t have to trim out the bones too thoroughly. Want some meat in there, too.”
Keanan nodded and flipped the switch on. The saw easily cut through the ribs, which he then stacked into another large bowl before starting on the soup bones. He’d gotten nearly all the way through the collection Zach had created when he caught a glimpse of Noel’s return from the corner of his eye.
“Everything okay?” asked Zach as Keanan shut off the saw.
Noel offered a lopsided smile. “In a manner of speaking.”
Zach turned to look at the other man. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means Claire’s pregnant and the smell of the meat got to her. She’ll be okay.”
“Oh, man. She barfed?”
Noel nodded.
Keanan’s gut roiled. If he were ever an expectant father, he was pretty sure he’d suffer a sympathy stomach. He pushed the image of Chelsea from his mind. He didn’t want to think of her in such discomfort, all his fault. Though, if it were some other man’s fault, that would be even worse.
Ugh.
“Rough to see her like that?” asked Zach sympathetically.
“Yeah. We were going to wait to tell everyone, but I guess this tipped our hand. We’re due in May.” Noel nodded toward Keanan.
Keanan nodded back. The secret they’d shared only lasted a few days. The bond that had made him feel like he belonged.
“Well, congratulations!” Zach lifted his fist to Noel’s.
Keanan raised his own to both men. Was this something like clinking wine glasses in a toast? Must be. Part of the inside circle, a place he’d rarely belonged, thanks to being raised more by Ivan than by either parent.
He didn’t belong in this circle either. No wife. Definitely not about to become a father.
“Nothing like having a child,” said Zach.
“We’re looking forward to it,” replied Noel. “Hopefully she’ll feel better soon.”
“Don’t count on it.”
The mysterious beginning of life. Did these men not feel the immensity of the moment? The very presence of God blessing their marriages? The incredible awe at creating an eternal being?
Noel picked up the bowl. “Want me to take the ribs in for wrapping?”
“Sure.” Zach grabbed the saws-all and turned it onto the remaining soup bones.
Keanan shook his head slightly and turned to the task of bagging bones. There’d be time to boil them down for soup later in the fall. Today’s job required they get the entire animal into meal-sized packages in the freezer.
* * *
Chelsea kept a close eye on Claire, who worked beside her.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Really.”
That smile looked more like a grimace, and the tone sounded none too convincing. Yeah. Chelsea would keep right on watching. Her friend wasn’t going to faint away on her watch.
“What’s for lunch?” asked Brent when they’d cleared the first quarter of the animal. “Hopefully not anything with beef in it.”
“You guys are hungry?” Claire leaned on the table.
Chelsea glanced at the clock. Twelve-thirty. Now that Brent mentioned it, she was starving. “What’s the plan?”
“I figured on BLT sandwiches,” Claire said. “There’s lots of bread, and we’ll soon be out of ripe tomatoes. Might as well enjoy them.”
Nightly frosts had arrived in the past couple of weeks, and they’d picked the remaining tomatoes off the vines and layered them onto shelves in the larder.
“Want me to handle it?” asked Chelsea. “I think you ought to go lie down.”
Claire looked about to protest.
“I’ll help Chelsea,” said Sierra. “Want me to bring you a sandwich when they’re ready, or would you prefer something else?”
Chelsea laid her knife on the table and headed into the kitchen. It was going to take a full minute of soapy water under the faucet to get the stench of raw beef off her hands enough to tolerate being near herself.
“A sandwich would be great. Thanks.” Claire walked through to the bedroom wing.
Chelsea heard water running there as she flipped up the kitchen sink lever. A moment later her sister’s hands joined hers under the tap. “You okay?” Chelsea asked in a low voice.
Sierra shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
“Because—”
“Never mind, okay? I knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. Next it will be Allison then probably you. I’ll get used to it.”
The bleakness in Sierra’s voice belied the words.
Chelsea leaned over and rested her head against her sister’s shoulder for a brief moment. She hoped it provided solidarity and some sort of comfort. “Not likely me, thanks, anyway.”
Sierra pulled away. “Want to make toast or cook bacon?”
“I’ll do the toast if that’s okay.”
“Sure. That’s why I asked.” Sierra turned to the fridge and pulled out a pound of bacon.
Chelsea dried her hands, turned on the broiler, and lifted two loaves of bread to the island, where she laid slices out on oven sheets.
Her sister did something similar across the workspace with the bacon. Good thing there were two ovens. They used both regularly with this size of a crew.
From the corner of her eye, Chelsea caught a glimpse of Allison washing tomatoes. She took a deep breath. Did she need to worry about Allison, too? Or was it enough to be concerned for her sister, for Claire, and for Jo?
She shoved the thought of Keanan from her mind. There was enough to think about with her woman friends. Bemoaning the lack of a romance with a guy like Keanan would get her nowhere.
She put the first pan in the oven and glanced toward the dining room, where Brent and Gabe still whacked meat. Keanan stood in the doorway. Watching her.
Chelsea let out a shaky breath and focused on not letting the toast burn. Explaining how that happened would be tough.
Chapter 14
“Welcome! Come on in.” Keanan stood beside the green door to the grain bin — his own home — as his friends trooped through. Would a dozen people even fit in here?
“Thanks for inviting us all over.” Allison bumped his arm. “Brent has been telling me all about the finishing touches.”
“Is this your house, Uncle Keanan?”
He squatted beside young Finnley. “It is. Do you like it?”
The five-year-old nodded as he turned, taking it all in. “It’s round.”
Keanan ruffled Finnley’s hair and stood, leaving his hand on the boy’s shoulder as the last person filed in.
Chelsea.
In
the background, he could hear Brent explaining how they’d cut a section from an old gymnasium floor to fit the curve needed for the kitchen counter. Everything dimmed to background noise.
“Hey.” She glanced up at him then thrust a container his direction. “I brought some snacks for your party.”
“Thank you, Chelsea.” That she was here at all came as a relief. She hadn’t set foot inside the door since she and Sierra had fitted the window coverings several weeks before.
“Look at me!” hollered Madelynn from above his head.
He looked up to see her peering through the stair railing.
“You get down, Maddie.” Jo plunked her hands on her hips. The woman looked about to give birth any day now.
“It’s fine by me,” Keanan said quietly, setting the container down. He didn’t want to undermine Jo’s authority, but he’d meant for everyone to see his entire space. “You can go on up, too, if you like.”
Jo nudged him. “Are you saying you don’t think I can manage those stairs in my advanced state?”
He crinkled a grin down at her. “Not at all.”
Zach slid his arm around Jo from the other side. “Come on up. Bet you Keanan’s got his tent pitched upstairs so he’ll feel at home.” He winked at Keanan.
If his tent wasn’t currently in Argentina, he might’ve done that. Little footsteps ran circles upstairs as Zach led Jo up.
“Keanan! How in the world did you get a king up here?” she called.
He went up a few steps until he could see the next level, where Maddie jumped on his mattress. “Brent and I managed it before we put the stair railings up. It wasn’t easy.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t.” Jo elbowed Zach and winked at Keanan. “And see? No tent. Our Keanan isn’t a barbarian.”
“Do barbarians live in tents? I thought it was caves.”
“Are you going to block the access all evening?” asked Sierra. “We want to see, too.”
Keanan stepped aside as Sierra and Chelsea ascended. Chelsea looked good tonight. Who was he fooling? She always did. Jeans, a flowery top that swirled at her hips and wrists. A whiff of her perfume lingered, luring him back up the steps and into his bedroom.
He and Brent had fitted a closet along the part of the curved upstairs wall directly above the outside door. Two tall, narrow windows provided a view up the mountain from the head of his bed, with two more flanking the space.
Sierra dropped onto the foot of the bed, bouncing a little. “It looks amazing up here. Bright and airy.”
“I thought you were crazy.” Jo motioned out the window that looked west across the valley. “But this whole place turned out really nice.”
“I couldn’t have accomplished this without Brent’s expertise.” Keanan watched Chelsea as she looked around, not meeting his gaze. “If it hadn’t been for him and some of his contacts in the construction business, this would look more like a winterized camping pad.”
Jo shook her head. “I was kidding, Keanan. I figured you had better taste than that.”
“And Sierra picked the fabric for the window coverings. Chelsea picked out the tile in the bathroom downstairs. Really, I couldn’t have done it without everyone.”
Chelsea flicked a glance his direction, biting her lip.
She must be remembering that day, as he did. The day things began… and ended between them. Only not ended. Like her perfume, the essence of an almost-relationship lingered and would continue to do so.
Good thing he was leaving for Africa in just over a month. He’d see out the Alpha course, play music for Brent’s wedding to Allison, and leave before Christmas. Possibly before the farm lay covered in a blanket of white snow. Perhaps when he returned in the spring, they would both have moved on from the attraction. She might have met another man.
His heart panged. Not that. Please, Lord, not that.
Maddie jumped off the bed and ran for the stairs. Zach surged after her, Jo in his wake. Sierra winked and followed.
Keanan’s hope that Chelsea would hang around was dashed when she ran the short distance to descend ahead of her sister. He fisted his hands then relaxed them. And again. How could he do this? Having Chelsea in his home — in his very bedroom — was torture.
Why hadn’t he taken her in his arms and kissed her that day a few weeks ago now? Why had he let her go when she’d stiffened and turned away? Perhaps with his lips, with his soul, he could have said what his words had bungled.
Yet they could never be one if she did not share his passion for the needy, for the lost, for the broken. For Jesus.
He’d stayed in one spot long enough for the other half of the group to ascend to view this upper floor.
Allison gripped Brent’s hand, swinging it. “Wow. You guys did a great job.”
“It was all Brent.”
“Not so, and you know it.” Brent shook his head. “You had the vision, and I had the skills to pull it together.”
Keanan chuckled. “Your vision was bigger than mine. Left in my hands, this would have been a basic habitation sealed from the environment. Now it’s a home.”
“Fit for a magazine.” Allison leaned against Brent. “But I can’t say that I mind this project is done. Now you can help me make centerpieces for the reception.”
Brent tugged her close and grinned at Keanan. “Sure you don’t want a tiled backsplash in the kitchen, man? See what you could save me from?”
Was he serious? Keanan couldn’t tell. “Thanks for sharing his time, Allison. I can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate it.”
* * *
Chelsea made herself small on the floor, her back to the wall near the compact wood stove that radiated heat. Probably not needed tonight with so many people packed into the space. How had Keanan made this grain bin into such a welcoming home? He and Brent had worked miracles.
She’d peeked into the bathroom when Keanan was still upstairs. The men had done an amazing job installing that tile. It looked at least as good as she’d imagined.
The wooden counters, the open shelves with a few white dishes on them, the two-burner cook top, the small fridge. Everything in proportion. Almost elegant. Even in the sitting area, a love seat shared space with a mammoth recliner. Every surface now overflowed with team members. Finnley lay on his tummy on the floor, Maddie bouncing on his back yelling, “Horsey!”
The strum of a guitar made her look up.
Keanan leaned against one of the counter stools, watching her as he tuned up.
She’d heard all about the frequent fireside sings the group had enjoyed beside Keanan’s tent over the summer. They’d ended abruptly when she arrived — not because of it, surely, but because he’d been busy building. He’d played with the worship team a couple of times since. She’d been fascinated by the quick, accurate movement of his big hands. The exquisite music he’d made.
Was he playing her, too?
It seemed no one else was in the room, though the background chatter remained. Her forehead still tingled from the brush of his lips days ago. She caught herself before she touched the spot.
A smile crinkled Keanan’s face as though he sensed her thoughts. He looked down at the guitar and began to pick out a song she knew from church. Noel began to sing along then a few others joined in.
Chelsea leaned back, closed her eyes, and soaked up the atmosphere. Why couldn’t she feel passionate about Jesus the way Keanan did? And Noel, Allison… all the others, likely. Those three were simply the most vocal.
God? Are You there? Maybe the question was more like, was He here. Inside her, like she’d always been taught. The visual of Jesus standing at a door, knocking, sprang to mind. She’d invited Him in as a child. She remembered doing it. She’d never not believed.
Then where was the sense of purpose? The feeling of His love surrounding her and filling her?
Maybe she’d had a cup of tea and a nice chat with Him, thanked Him for coming, then shown Him the door. She’d gone on with her life, having taken care of th
e question of heaven and hell.
There was more. Keanan sang right now of being filled and walking in the Spirit. His voice rang with conviction, with adoration, with passion.
She peered at him without flickering more than her eyelids.
Longing spread through her, not just for the man, though that was always close to the surface. But for the sense of God that filled the room. It shuttered Keanan’s eyes, caused Noel’s hands to rise, and made Sierra sway and smile as she sang. Where had her sister found this deeper relationship with Jesus?
Chelsea had been missing out. Reading her Bible occasionally because that’s what Christians were supposed to do. Praying a bit more often, asking God’s blessing on those she loved. Going through the motions, barely remembering the passion could descend from on high like rain. Until now.
Wasn’t it a gift of God, not something she could earn by striving? Where was the balance?
“Key of C,” murmured Keanan, changing tempo as he nodded at Noel.
Noel responded by pulling a harmonica out of his shirt pocket and joining in. Claire shifted a little closer to Jo on the love seat, probably to give Noel elbowroom.
Jo looked a bit wan, come to think of it. One hand rested on her belly. Wait. Was that a ripple across the bump?
Chelsea opened her eyes the rest of the way as Jo shifted slightly. Uncomfortably. No one else seemed to have noticed. Maybe not even Jo.
A few songs later, Chelsea was sure.
This time, Jo’s eyes widened when her belly clenched. She might have caught her breath, but Chelsea couldn’t hear above the music. Jo gripped Zach’s hand, and he bent toward her.
Jo’s gaze caught on Chelsea’s just past Zach’s blond head.
Chelsea raised her eyebrows.
Her friend offered a grimace and a nod as Zach slid his arm around her and adjusted his wristwatch. Maddie now lay on her back on the floor beside Finnley. Would they send her next door to Allison’s house? The plan had been to drop her off with Zach’s parents, but they went to bed early.
Plum Upside Down (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 5) Page 10
