Chelsea nodded. “That leaves Jacob with me. I haven’t had a good visit with my baby brother in months.”
“Well, that’s the trouble.” Claire glanced up. “Keanan’s mom is coming, too.”
“And that’s a problem how?” She’d kept the emotion out of her voice. Pretty sure.
“Well, you’ve got an actual guest room, and Keanan doesn’t. Your brother would probably be fine with a foamie on the floor at Keanan’s, but I’m sure his mother would like more privacy and a decent bed.”
“No.” Chelsea surged to her feet. “You can’t do this to me.”
“Do what?” Claire leaned back in her chair, the pen still tapping on the table. “What do you mean?”
Was she faking that innocent look? Chelsea couldn’t tell.
“I don’t want Keanan’s mother staying with me. That’s just too... weird.”
“Oh? How’s that? I thought you said there was nothing between you. It shouldn’t be any weirder to you than having Noel’s mother.”
“If she’s coming, I’ll take her. In a heartbeat.”
Claire shook her head. Was that a grin poking at the corners of her mouth? “Noel and I are leaving for his mom’s in Missoula tomorrow. His sister and brother-in-law are flying in from Flagstaff.”
Chelsea slumped back into the chair. “Hope you have a great time.”
“We will, I’m sure. Are you really saying you’d prefer a middle-aged woman to sleep on the floor with no privacy?”
“I’m saying Keanan should have thought about having company before building something that small.”
“Seriously.”
Chelsea was going to give in. She knew it. Claire knew it. But, man, did she have to do it graciously? How could they force her into this situation? Probably laughing all the way. She peeked at Claire. Not laughing. Just waiting.
“Did Keanan ask? Because he should have talked to me first. Himself.” Maybe he’d tried. She’d spent the past week avoiding him since helping Rosemary. She’d been getting pretty good at avoiding him, actually. Practice made perfect. Who knew.
“No, he didn’t say anything about that. He mentioned she was coming and I asked if I should find a place for her. He seemed grateful.”
I bet. Chelsea bit off the words before they came out.
“If you don’t care about him, why does it bother you if his mother sleeps in your guest room? I’m sure she’ll spend most of her time at Keanan’s or over here. It’s not like you need to entertain her every minute.”
Chelsea felt herself sliding a little closer to the edge of the precipice. “Good point.”
“So it’s okay then?”
“Not precisely.” Chelsea pinched the bridge of her nose. “But whatever. I’ll take one for the team.”
A smirk played with the edges of Claire’s mouth. “The team thanks you.” She made a note and laid down the pen before folding her arms and looking at Chelsea. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Sounds serious.”
Chelsea took off her glasses and cleaned them on her hem. What could she say that wouldn’t incriminate her one way or the other?
“I’ve noticed Keanan watching you.”
That was the best her friend could do? “That’s interesting.”
Claire chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve noticed it, too. Have you two talked about the reasons for this phenomenon?”
There must be something she could do right now. Make lunch, maybe. Or whatever meal was next.
“Chelsea.”
Chelsea stared at her friend’s hand on her arm. Trimmed, unpainted nails. She should offer a manicure.
“There’s nothing wrong with falling in love, you know. I did it myself. Yes, reluctantly at first. I’ll admit it. But God knew what He was doing in my life. In Noel’s.”
“Who said anything about falling in love?”
“It’s not like it’s something new at Green Acres. I’ve watched Jo and Sierra and Allison. Even watched myself. And now you.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. It’s not that easy. You can’t drop me in a mold with everyone else. You all are married. Except Allison, but that’s in less than a month.”
“Are you honestly denying any sort of attraction to Keanan Welsh?”
Chelsea opened her mouth and closed it again. Lying was a sin, and telling the truth wasn’t really an option.
“I hope you’ll be glad to know Noel and I have been praying for you two.”
Nice. Now they were a topic. A prayer request.
“Do you want to know what I think the problem is?”
Not really, but Chelsea kept her mouth zipped.
“I’ll tell you.” Claire leaned closer. “I think you’re fighting it on a spiritual level. I think you find his deep faith unsettling.”
“I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating.”
“It’s not my intention to hurt you. Please believe me.”
Intention or not, the words stung.
“You’re bottling something up, holding pain close to your chest. I don’t know what it is, Chelsea, but if it’s affecting your ability to love, it’s affecting everything in your life. I’d be honored if you chose to confide in me, but you might feel more comfortable with your sister.”
Chelsea shook her head. How had Claire guessed what even Sierra hadn’t mentioned?
Claire put her hand on Chelsea’s. “Father God, I bring my sister Chelsea into Your presence. You know what is holding her back. You know what she needs from You. I pray that by the power of the Holy Spirit, You will touch her life and restore to her the joy of Your salvation. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Chelsea blinked back tears. “Where do you get that kind of faith?” Oh no. She’d said it out loud. Whispered, but loud enough for Claire to pick it up.
“I ask Him for it, and He supplies,” Claire said quietly.
“I’ve asked. Maybe it takes faith to get faith.”
“Have you asked Jesus to forgive your sins? Have you asked Him to be in control of your life?”
She should be offended at the questions, but it would take too much effort. Besides, it seemed a relief to come clean. “Yes, I have. But it still doesn’t feel real.”
“Did it ever?”
Chelsea nodded. “When I was a kid. A teen. Digging into the Bible was a joy and a challenge.”
“What happened to change that?”
“I wish I knew.” She wiped a tear from behind her glasses and glanced at Claire. Had she expected to see judgment? Triumph? In her friend’s eyes was only a sober sincerity.
“I don’t know the answers.” Claire squeezed her hand. “But I know who does. I’ll pray for you.”
* * *
“So this is where you’re living now.” Keanan’s mom peered out the window of the borrowed car. Allison’s. He hadn’t dared ask Chelsea, even though Claire told him Chelsea would be happy to have his mom stay with her for the weekend.
Somehow he doubted that was completely true. In return, he’d get Chelsea and Sierra’s younger brother at his place. An ironic twist of fate, for sure.
“Keanan?”
“I’m sorry, Mother. Did you say something?” He stopped the car in the parking area by the farm school. The half-dozen students had left last week at the close of the fall term.
“I’m thankful you’ve finally found a place to call home.”
If only Chelsea... no, he wasn’t going there. Not right now. “I am, too. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone. It may be somewhat overwhelming, though, as there are other families visiting from out of town.”
“I’m sure I’ll manage just fine.” She waited for him to round the car and open her door before stepping out. She hugged her light jacket tighter. “Quite a wind you have here.”
“It is November,” he reminded her. “Sometimes there’s snow by Thanksgiving.”
Mother shivered. “I can think of plenty of reasons to live in Salem. Winter is a good one.”
“So where is your house? You said it was round...” She turned slowly, taking in the various buildings.
He pointed at the farm school. “Just behind here. But maybe we should get you settled first? Chelsea Riehl lives in the right-hand duplex there.” He swung his hand. “And she’s got a spare room you’re welcome to stay in.”
“Sounds very nice, son.”
Keanan popped the trunk and picked up his mother’s luggage. He hadn’t been inside that duplex since the night before the baby had been born.
His hands felt clammy and his heart beat faster as he escorted his mom across the yard. Was Chelsea even home? If she wasn’t, could he walk right in? No. He couldn’t do that. He set the luggage on the stoop and knocked.
“Coming!” Chelsea called.
Keanan’s heart hiccupped at the sound of her voice.
The door swung open and there she stood, lovelier than ever in a multi-toned pink top that matched her glasses. Her curly hair framed her perfect face. Skinny jeans ended in high heels.
He blinked. Heels? Only Chelsea.
“Hi! You must be Keanan’s mom. I’m Chelsea. It’s so good to meet you. I hope you’ll treat my home like your own.” She extended her hand to Mother’s without sparing a glance in Keanan’s direction.
“Why, it’s lovely to meet you, too. My name is Fernanda, but please call me Fern.”
“Come on in, Fern. Your room is the one to the right of the hallway. Feel free to come and go as you wish while you’re here.”
“Thank you. You’re so sweet.”
Chelsea’s face flushed as she bit her lip. “No problem. It’s the least I can do as we all have quite a bit of company for Thanksgiving. It only makes sense to divvy everyone up according to the best use of space.”
Keanan stepped forward. “I really appreciate it, Chelsea.”
Her eyes did not meet his. “If you’d like to take your mom’s things through to her room that would be great.”
He pulled in a deep breath and managed to exhale soundlessly before nodding and doing as he was told. The green and gray room looked a lot different without the bright mural Brent had once created for Finnley on one wall. Chelsea had painted over it without him. Surprise.
He set the suitcase on the folding stand. Chelsea and his mother talked in the other room. He closed his eyes. Oh, God, what was he going to do? If Chelsea were immune to him, she’d think nothing of looking at him and talking to him. As it was, she barely acknowledged his presence and then only when he forced her to. But how could he break through the wall she’d built? He needed to talk to her — really talk to her — before he left for Africa. He couldn’t bear to be halfway across the world with all these questions unanswered.
“Ready to go, Mother? I’d like to take you over to the main house and introduce you to whoever’s in at the moment, and then we can go back to my place. I can’t wait to show it to you.”
“That sounds lovely.” Mother squeezed both of Chelsea’s hands, smiling at her. “I’ll be back later. Again, thank you so much.”
Chelsea stepped back with a little smile of her own. “No problem.”
Back outside, Mother tucked her hand behind his arm. “Now do tell me, son. Is that the lovely woman who’s won your heart?”
Keanan’s feet stopped working, and he nearly tripped on his face. “Whatever gives you that idea?”
She chuckled merrily. “If your words don’t tell me, that response certainly does. She seems very sweet.”
“I’m not sure what clues you think you saw.”
Mother squeezed his arm as they started to walk again. “You couldn’t take your eyes off of her, and the reverse was also true.”
Chelsea was watching him? When? She’d had little opportunity when his own gaze had been averted.
“Besides, she loves jewelry. That girl will be a pleasure to design pieces for. I can already see a an engagement ring with an entire set to match.”
“Mother.”
“Yes, Keanan?” She looked up at him, batting her eyelashes.
“Don’t overstep. The situation is... difficult.”
“I will be careful, my son. But I may not be able to resist giving a helping hand.” She looked over the big house as they mounted the steps to the deck. “You said this building is made of straw bales? How quaint.”
Chapter 21
The Green Acres kitchen bustled with preparations for a bountiful feast. Chelsea peeled potatoes at the sink, trying to stay out of the way while Rosemary directed her daughters in creating the various side dishes she’d planned. It seemed very strange not to have Claire and Noel in charge. Guess they needed a break same as anyone else.
“May I be of some help?”
Chelsea looked into Fern’s eyes. Great. Last evening she’d avoided a heart-to-heart with Keanan’s mother by feigning tiredness after Alpha. She managed a smile. “Sure. There’s another peeler in the drawer to your right. It takes a lot of potatoes to feed this large a crew.”
The fatigue last night hadn’t been completely fake. Everyone at Alpha had been on such a high after a weekend retreat a few days before that it had reminded her yet again of the relationship she did not have with the Lord.
Fern reached into the sink. “My goodness, these are huge. I can’t think when I’ve seen potatoes this size.”
“Idaho is known for its potatoes. We had a bumper crop in the garden this year.” Strange. She really felt a part of it after all the digging and sorting she’d done beside the other team members.
“I think it’s delightful that you grow your own food here, but I’m sure there are still plenty of things you need to buy at the Super One.”
“You’d be surprised how little.” At least, Chelsea had been amazed. Part of that was Jo’s militancy. She urged everyone to find local substitutes or do without. Somehow coffee and chocolate — organic and fair trade — still found their way into the house to Jo’s tight-lipped annoyance.
“This meal,” Fern said. “Everything is from the farm?” Her voice reflected curiosity.
“Pretty much. Let’s see. We raised the turkeys. They’re more difficult to raise than chickens, but it takes several chickens to feed our core group at one meal, where one turkey will do it and offer leftovers.” Of course, two of the largest ones were roasting at the moment, one of them up the hill at Allison’s to leave space in the second oven here.
Fern held up another potato. “And these.”
“Yes. The stuffing ingredients are homegrown, other than the salt. Bread, celery, onions, sage—”
“The bread?” Fern looked astonished.
“Several of us alternate baking batches of six loaves at a time. Usually every second day.”
“I had no idea.”
“Keanan makes excellent bread.” It pained her to admit it.
The peeler dropped from Fern’s hands and clattered into the stainless steel sink. “Really.”
“Yes, he does.” But it wouldn’t do to dwell on him with his mother so interested. “We also grew the green beans and mushrooms for the casserole. The beets. We’re able to get salad greens from the greenhouse most of the year.” Or so they said. She hadn’t experienced a full Green Acres year yet.
“Now you have me intrigued. What about dessert?” Fern leaned closer. “I saw a row of pumpkin pies on the shelf when Keanan showed me the larder.”
“Most of the ingredients for that are from our farm, too.” Our farm. The words sounded good. Maybe visiting Portland would be enough after all. Maybe Keanan would meet some woman in Africa and not bother coming back. Then her life would be sweet right here.
“Pumpkin pie has always been a favorite of Keanan’s.”
Chelsea chopped a potato into smaller pieces than was likely required. “Interesting.” Hers, too, but this wasn’t the moment to mention it.
“I’m so glad h
e’s found a place to call home. He seems very happy.”
Surely no reply was needed.
“He hinted on the phone that there was someone special here. Yet, strangely, he hasn’t introduced me to anyone like that. Do you know if it’s someone from the church instead of the farm? He really didn’t say much.”
Chelsea’s knife slipped and a drop of blood welled from her finger. “Excuse me.” She squeezed her finger and edged past everyone on her way to the washroom for an adhesive bandage.
Drat that woman.
Chelsea stared at herself in the mirror. Did Fern know she was the one Keanan had referred to? Was the woman hinting, guessing, or merely oblivious? Good grief. If Chelsea hadn’t given it away by any other means, slicing a deep gash in her finger would be a massive tip-off.
Lord? This would be a really good time to answer some of my prayers. Take Your pick which one. Make me stop caring about Keanan. Make him stop caring about me. Or there’s always the big one: teach me how to feel my faith.
That last prayer might nullify the other two. Maybe... maybe she didn’t want the spark between her and Keanan extinguished. Maybe she wanted it to grow into something real. Something big. But that seemed as impossible as breaking down the invisible barrier between her and God.
It was all or nothing.
God, are You listening?
The only reply was a knock on the washroom door. “Anyone in there?”
That figured.
* * *
Keanan leaned against the pole shed in the still night air. Above lay a canopy of dark velvet studded with tiny but brilliant diamonds. Enough light came from the nearly full moon that he could see his breath billowing in the freezing air.
Stupendous. Magnificent. God-affirming. “The heavens proclaim the glory of God. The skies display his craftsmanship. Day after day they continue to speak; night after night they make him known.”
A soft voice murmured, “I wish that were true.”
Keanan jolted so hard he bashed his head on the overhang. Now there were stars of a different sort.
“Sorry.” Definitely Chelsea.
Plum Upside Down (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 5) Page 15
