Tim nodded. “Sandra is quite interested in talking with your mother about her designs. I’m sure there will be plenty of time yet this weekend for everyone to get to know each other.”
“Uh, yes.” Keanan didn’t dare glance at Gabe. “That would be great. My mother is quite outgoing. She’d be happy to visit.”
He should never have allowed Claire’s innocent-sounding idea of having Mother stay with Chelsea and Jacob with him. Not that Chelsea’s brother had been a problem. Far from it. But having Mother’s watchful eye on Chelsea was something else entirely. And yet, Claire had been right. His mother shouldn’t have to sleep on a mat on the floor with no privacy. The question remained, was she allowing Chelsea solitude or was she inspecting her with a magnifying glass?
Keanan eyed Tim again. The father of the woman he loved. Yet it was too early to admit such a thing openly. Definitely not with Gabe present.
Chapter 23
Chelsea slid into a vinyl booth at The Sizzling Skillet between her brother and her mother. She shivered against the November chill that had pelted her on their walk along Galena Lake. No doubt she’d be shedding her jacket soon thanks to their seats near the kitchen.
Her dad leaned onto the table and looked past Sierra at Gabe. “I must say this Thanksgiving has been much different than last year.”
Sierra’s elbow caught Dad’s ribs. “Don’t even start.”
Gabe slid his arm across the padded back of the bench, his eyes twinkling with his grin. “It was a difficult time in our relationship.” His hand cupped Sierra’s shoulder. “But we got past it.”
Chelsea remembered all too well how pig-headed her sister had been. She’d invited her other boyfriend to dinner at the farm, fully knowing she was going to break up with him. And not knowing Noel and Claire had invited Gabe.
The waitress dropped off menus and asked for their drink orders.
“I hear Tyrell Burke is dating Tracy Grindle from church,” Chelsea said.
Sierra rolled her eyes. “That’s nice for him. I wish them the best of luck.”
Gabe chuckled. “Brent says he’s matured a lot.” He leaned forward to meet Dad’s gaze. “Brent is building a house for Tyrell this winter. Now that he’s out of my personal life, I do hope and pray he finds peace and joy.”
“A lot can change in a year.” Sierra eyed Chelsea across the table. “A year ago you were making a ton of trips out to see me. Now you live here, and I hardly ever see you.”
Chelsea poked her chin toward Gabe. “You’re too busy with him.”
“It’s not just that. Sometimes I think you’re avoiding me.”
And she had to bring this up with the whole family present — why? “I’m not avoiding you.” She fixed a narrowed gaze on Sierra. “We just have different tasks. The farm keeps all of us so busy.”
“Huh. And here I thought it might be because of Ke—”
“Mom, did you want to talk about the church fundraiser? I’ll be driving home after the wedding. Probably Monday so I can help with the cleanup. That still leaves ten days to finalize everything before the event.”
The waitress slid water glasses and teacups down the table and took their orders.
“I’m kind of curious what Sierra was going to say,” commented Jacob from beside Chelsea.
Chelsea kept her gaze fixed on her mother. Please, Mom. Help a girl out here.
“Fernanda said she might have some pieces to donate for the silent auction.” Mom stared back, not giving an inch. “That woman seems to have a rare gift.”
A rare gift for meddling, much like Sierra. “Yes, she’s quite talented.”
“I’ve noticed the arts run in some families.” Sierra leaned forward on her elbows. “She makes such fabulous jewelry, and her son is a terrific musician. Isn’t he, Chelsea?”
What was this, gang-up-on-Chelsea day? It wasn’t like she could pretend Fern had any other son. “Yes, he is quite musical.”
“We had many great evenings around the campfire with him and his guitar over the summer,” Gabe agreed. “Keanan has done a lot to deepen the spiritual focus of our team.”
“And now he’s going on a missions trip.” Sierra picked up the baton. “Where is he going again, Chelsea?”
“South Africa, I believe.”
“He’s taking solar cookers and teaching people how to use them.” Gabe took a sip of his water. “Firewood is quite scarce in many parts of Africa.”
“Solar cookers.” Jacob sounded thoughtful. “We discussed those in one of my environmental engineering classes. I heard of a mission that provides solar panels for villages. Hooks them up to wells as well as providing power for schools. I wonder if it’s the same mission?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you should go to Africa, too.” Chelsea couldn’t quite keep the bite out of her voice.
“Maybe I should. One more semester to go before I leave Portland State. I might take a year overseas to get a better idea of possibilities. Of where God could use my skills.”
Since when was her baby brother a grownup?
“Good idea.” Gabe still rubbed Sierra’s shoulder. “I spent three years in Romania. It’s amazing to see how little some people have and yet they can be so happy in the Lord. I can’t tell you how much I wish adoption from Romania were possible. The kids in that orphanage still haunt my dreams.”
Chelsea’s status as spoiled American rich girl was likely confirmed when Sierra nodded at her husband with tenderness in her eyes. Was it so wrong to want to stay in her own country and continue to enjoy the rewards her parents and grandparents had worked for? So confusing.
Keanan sure didn’t look at it that way, but he was a guy. Used to roughing it. How long had he slept in a tent and not even cared? See, she wasn’t like that. She valued her creature comforts.
But Keanan’s deep green eyes, full of compassion, wouldn’t leave her alone. If she moved forward with him, he’d keep challenging her comfort zone. Why couldn’t she pick someone more like Gabe? Yeah, he’d gone overseas and worked in an orphanage, but he’d gotten it out of his system and now he was home, content with Sierra and Green Acres Farm.
“He seems like such a nice young man.” Mom’s voice drifted into Chelsea’s reverie.
Oh no. Were they back to Keanan?
“He is.” Sierra winked at Chelsea.
“A bit unconventional, perhaps,” Mom went on, “but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I appreciate when someone thinks for himself and then acts upon what he believes is right.”
Ouch, Mom.
“He’s not exactly a saint,” Chelsea blurted.
Sierra leaned on the table across from her. “Oh? Tell me his faults.”
“Sierra Ann!” said Mom. “We don’t gossip.”
“No, really.” Sierra grinned straight at Chelsea. “I’d love to know what my sister has to say about that.”
Chelsea pinned Sierra with her gaze. “You heard Mom. No gossip.”
Sierra tipped her head back and laughed. “Nice try. I’m willing to make a bet that the only faults he has involve how uncomfortable he makes you feel.”
“That doesn’t even dignify a reply.”
Dad’s eyes crinkled in amusement. Gabe’s fingers tightened on Sierra’s shoulder.
Good luck keeping your wife in line, buster.
“You could sure do worse than him, sis.” Jacob nudged her with his elbow. “That’s quite the place he built on a really low budget. He thinks outside the box.”
Sierra tittered. “Outside the box. Good one, Jakey, for a round house.”
Juvenile.
“Is there something we should know, Chelsea?” asked Dad.
All five pairs of eyes honed in on her. Why couldn’t she simply slide under the table? “N-not really.” Oh man. Sounding more definite would have helped.
Sierra smirked.
“Your mother and I are very happy that God brought Gabe into your sister’s life.” Dad glanced down at Gabe and nodded. “We’ve been praying
for both you girls since you were young that He would send the right men at the right time.”
Jacob fidgeted, bumping Chelsea.
“And a bride for you.” Dad grinned at Jake. “In no hurry for that one, though. All in God’s time.” His gaze switched back to Chelsea. “We’ve only heard good things about Keanan. If he’s the man we’ve been praying for, we’ll be very happy. But that’s between you and him and the Lord.”
Chelsea stared at the water glass in front of her with blurring eyes and bit at her lip.
“Now, who ordered the chicken quesadilla?” The waitress stood at the end of the table, loaded with plates.
“Me,” said Sierra.
Chelsea peeked at her dad through lowered lashes. He was watching her with a concerned expression. Thanks, she mouthed. And meant it.
* * *
“Isn’t he the sweetest little thing!”
Mother made smoochy faces at the baby in her arms as they sat around the straw bale house great room. “There, I think he smiled at me.”
Holding a baby looked good on her. Keanan kind of liked holding the little fellow himself. Had he ever been so tiny? So dependent on his parents? Must’ve been.
“He’s only seventeen days old.” Jo sounded tired. “It’s most likely gas. He has a lot of that.”
His mother glanced at Keanan. “Surely you could be doing something about getting me grandchildren of my own.”
Jo laughed then hid her mouth behind her hand.
He gulped. “Surely you could be more tactful.”
Mother scrunched her face at the baby as she jiggled him. “Mothers don’t need to be tactful. I think you should marry that nice girl and get to work making babies.” She dropped a kiss on John’s forehead. “Wouldn’t you like a playmate, little man?”
“Claire and Noel are providing a buddy. No pressure from here, Keanan.” Jo’s eyes danced.
“I don’t know them,” his mother said. “And I’m pretty sure their child won’t be my grandbaby. Don’t let Keanan off so easily, Josephine. Do you know he was thirty years old last June? Plenty old enough to settle down, I think.”
He could only hope his children would look more like Chelsea than him. Curly hair, pert nose, sparkling blue eyes...
“Uncle Keanan!” Madelynn leaped into his lap.
He tossed her in the air, and she squealed. The baby startled, but Mother cradled him close and soothed him as though she’d had far more practice than only one child of her own.
“Play with me?”
Keanan sat cross-legged on the floor and accepted the doll Madelynn thrust into his arms. She looked over at his mother then arranged his hands and the doll the way Mother held John.
“Shh,” she stage-whispered. “Baby sleeping.”
“Okay,” he whispered back.
“He really is very good with the children,” he heard Jo say.
“I see that.” Mother sounded bemused.
“Finnley adores him as well. I’m not sure how many hours Finnley sat on one of the horses while Keanan worked the fields over the summer.”
“You do the farm work with horses? Son, there’s so much you haven’t told me about this place.”
He twisted to see her better. “Some of it. There’s a tractor, too.”
Madelynn planted herself between them then grabbed the doll from his hands. “Put baby clothes on.”
Oh man. This was the hardest part of the game. Doll clothes were so tiny and his fingers so thick. He glanced over at John, who yawned, his face all scrunched and red. A real baby wasn’t much bigger than this doll. Dressing a doll was good practice.
His big fingers struggled to get the doll inside the clothes. Finally, he succeeded and handed the doll back to Madelynn.
She cradled the toy. “Thank you, Uncle Keanan.”
“Excuse me a moment. I need to use the washroom.” Mother stood and leaned over Keanan, handing him the baby.
He froze as the infant settled into his hands and he met his mother’s twinkling gaze.
“Baby John,” Madelynn informed him as she perched on his left knee.
Keanan shifted the baby into a more comfortable position on the crook of his arm and Madelynn sagged against his chest, touching the baby’s hand. “He soft. Be gentle.”
Mother’s heels clicked away.
From behind him, Jo chuckled. “Your mom is right. Holding a baby looks good on you.”
Wherever he went, it was always the children that drew him. The little ones growing up without enough food, without clean water, without a safe place to sleep. The two in his arms were loved and cared for. Yes, he wanted his own — what man didn’t?
“I’ll go put on another pot of tea while you’ve got him, Keanan. Want a cup?”
“Sounds good.”
Her footsteps padded away. Madelynn bounced off his leg and ran after her mother, begging for a cookie.
It was just him and the baby, who weighed almost nothing, his warmth and frailty hitting Keanan solidly in the gut. “Hey there, little fellow.” He stroked the dark wispy hair with one finger, nearly as thick as the child’s forearm.
John opened his dark eyes and stared into Keanan’s. He waved a tiny fist. When Keanan tucked his finger against the babe’s, the fingers clenched around his.
Please, Father, do You have a gift like this for me? Maybe one with curls and stamped with Chelsea’s features?
He became aware of vehicle engines turning off, of doors slamming, of voices and laughter coming nearer. Of footsteps on the wooden deck and the door opening with a whoosh of November air.
“Auntie Chelsea!” yelled Madelynn.
John startled, his little face puckering for a good cry. Keanan jiggled the baby as he glanced up to see the entire Riehl family troop in the door, shedding jackets and boots.
Chelsea froze with her coat half off when she caught sight of him. Her eyes widened as she noticed the infant in his arms.
Sierra slipped an arm around Chelsea’s waist and smirked at Keanan. “Look who’s natural with a baby. Looks good on you.” She pulled Chelsea’s coat the rest of the way off and hung it before giving her a nudge.
The room narrowed to just him and Chelsea as she walked toward him. John squirmed, reminding him of the babe’s presence.
Chelsea sank onto the ottoman a few feet away, watching the child. Was the rosy hue of her cheeks from the cold outside or from proximity to him?
“Do you want to hold him?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head slowly, her gaze fixing on his. The raw emotion on her face hit him below the belt.
He wasn’t the only one with these strong swirling sensations.
Madelynn launched at Chelsea, breaking the intensity of the moment. The other people in the room crept back into his awareness. His mother, leaning against the doorway with a bemused expression. Tim and Sandra looking as dazed as she was. Jo with a tea tray. Sierra and Gabe grinning at each other. Jacob at the back, eyebrows raised.
He looked back at Chelsea as she tickled the toddler. Let them all think what they wanted. They weren’t far wrong.
Chapter 24
Chelsea twirled a curl around her finger. She sat with Keanan at the little table in her duplex, their Bibles open in front of them. Deep inside, she knew this was the last big hurdle. Well, maybe the second to last one. If she could just reach into that love relationship with God Keanan spoke of, she’d be free to love the man, too. The whole matter of him gallivanting off to the far parts of the world was another issue entirely, the elephant in the room that loomed larger with each passing day.
First things first.
Keanan covered her hand with his large one and began to pray. “Father God, please reveal Yourself to Chelsea in a new way. I thank You, Jesus, for Your love and Your gift of salvation for her. I ask You, Holy Spirit, to commune with Chelsea’s spirit and brand her with Your love and Your peace.” He hesitated a moment. “Thank You. In the name of Jesus, thank You.”
This felt
so strange. Before he’d come over, before Fern had excused herself for the big house, she’d been torn between the thrill of spending time with the man and the anticipation of what they were about to do together. Pray. Talk about the scriptures.
A dispassionate part of her reminded her not many women would think of this as a hot date. And yet her spirit craved to be loved by God as much as to be loved by Keanan.
She glanced up to find his gentle green eyes watching her.
“I want to talk to you about love.” The crinkle lines around his eyes appeared as his lips curved into a grin. His fingers tangled with hers on the table. “God’s love. The most important love of all.”
“I know.”
“When did you become a believer?”
“I was just a child. Maybe four or five. I learned about Jesus dying for me in Sunday school and asked my dad about it afterward. He prayed with me.”
“How did it make you feel?”
Chelsea thought back. “I don’t remember. It was such a natural thing to do. So expected.” Was that all this was today? Trying to take an expected step? No. Deep in her soul, she needed this.
“What happened then?”
“We had family devotions at bedtime every night where Dad would read a Bible story and pray with us. When I learned to read, I was expected to do a devotion on my own in the morning. Mom kept us supplied with little books for our age.” She tried to remember what the readings had been like and failed. “We had chapel every day at school. And Bible class.” She twisted her mouth and looked at him. “Lack of biblical knowledge has never been my problem.”
Keanan tilted his head to one side. “Have you been baptized?”
She nodded. “The summer I was thirteen. Sierra wanted to, and I thought, yeah, me, too. It wasn’t so much copycatting as that I hadn’t really thought about it before. When it came to my attention that it was something a believer should do, I followed through.”
“An act of obedience, then.”
Chelsea narrowed her eyes. “Yes. Is that so wrong?”
He held up both hands, and hers chilled where his touch had been. “That is not what I said or even meant. I’m seeking perspective.”
Plum Upside Down (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 5) Page 17
