A shock of freezing air swirled around her. The door closed behind him. She hugged herself as she stared at the unyielding wooden rectangle. As she listened to his footsteps crunch away. As his aftershave dissipated.
She reached behind her, grabbed the passport off the table, and flung it across the room then collapsed on the floor while deep sobs wracked her body. Oh, dear God. Look what her selfishness and lack of faith had cost her. Was there any hope?
* * *
Keanan strode down Thompson Road. His grain bin home repelled him with its memories of Chelsea. He needed air, the colder and brisker the better. He needed to burn off some of this anxiety.
To think he’d nearly proposed tonight, even though his greater wisdom and rational thought had decided to wait until he returned in spring. That curve-hugging black dress had nearly done him in, filling him with dreams and desires.
He growled into the wind.
It’s just a passport, whispered part of his mind.
She lied about it.
Not directly. You didn’t ask.
I shouldn’t have had to. She knew.
And you never in your life knowingly gave a false impression to someone?
That doesn’t excuse her.
Did you? Or did you not?
Yes. Yes, I’ve been guilty. But this is different.
How so? Why is it okay if you did it, and wrong when she did?
I asked God’s forgiveness. I repented.
How do you know she hasn’t? That she won’t?
Maybe being alone out here with his thoughts wasn’t that great an idea either. Which way was the right way? Both sets of arguments were valid. But what was God’s way? Which voice spoke for Him?
The voice of forgiveness. The voice of grace.
Okay. Keanan could forgive Chelsea. He could. But did that automatically restore their relationship to its previous bearing?
It did with Jesus. His forgiveness wiped the slate clean. Forgiven. Forgotten.
He wasn’t God. His memory-wiper didn’t work so well. How could an all-knowing God forget, anyway? That made no sense.
Headlights rounded the corner down past Elmer’s farm. Snow angled across their glow. The same snow that drifted against his face.
Keanan trudged off the middle of the road and planted one foot in the frozen grass at gravel’s edge. Why was he wearing a black parka anyway? Black pants? He was all but invisible to the driver as the vehicle careened toward him.
The car — Gabe’s — passed then squealed to a stop and backed up to come abreast of him. The passenger window slid down and Sierra looked out, her eyes wide. “Keanan? What are you doing out here?”
Chelsea’s sister. The second last person he wanted to see. “Just going for a walk.”
“Uh oh.”
He scowled at Sierra, certain the darkness hid his face. “Don’t worry about me.” He took a step away and his shoe slipped. He grabbed at the car to stay upright. His chore boots would’ve been a better choice for this icy road than dress shoes.
The far door opened and shut, and Gabe loomed beside him. “Drive on home, honey. I’ll walk with Keanan.”
Keanan gritted his teeth. “No need.”
Sierra pushed the car door open, nearly sending him sliding again. “Okay.” She cast a worried glance at him then shuffled around the car, got in, and drove off.
Gabe started walking toward Galena Landing. When Keanan didn’t follow, he turned back. “Thought you wanted to walk.”
The fight in him had fled. Keanan shoved his hands in his pockets. “Why are women so confusing?”
Gabe laughed. “The first man to figure that out will make a fortune.” He beckoned. “Come on, Welsh. I’m freezing. Least we can do is keep moving while we try to unravel the mysteries of the universe.”
“I’m ready to go back to the farm.”
“You sure? I’m willing to listen.” Gabe fell into step beside him. “I’ll make a guess this is about my sister-in-law.”
Was a reply truly required? He wouldn’t fool anyone, either way. He let out a long breath, nodding.
“You two left the church a while ago looking pretty cozy. What happened?” Gabe held up both hands. “Only if you want to get it off your chest. No pressure.”
Somehow, saying she let me believe she didn’t have a passport wasn’t as simple an answer as he’d like to give. “On a scale of one to ten, where would you place the importance of total honesty in your relationship with Sierra?”
Gabe shot him a glance. “You’ve heard our story, haven’t you?”
Keanan wracked his brain. “Not really. Parts of it, maybe.”
“Let’s just say honesty — openness — is a ten now, but it was hard-earned. On both our parts.”
They walked in silence a few minutes, the lights from the farmhouse nearing.
“Honesty is a matter of trust,” Gabe mused. “Until you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that your heart is safe in the other person’s hands, it’s easy to hold back. Sometimes it’s easy to hold back things that are vital to view openly or the whole relationship might implode.”
Keanan nodded. “I can see that.”
“It’s kind of like a dance. And hey, I’ll be the first to admit I’m a lousy dancer. But you hold onto each other and move one way and then the other. Meanwhile, you try to keep from stomping on each other’s toes while you learn how to do this thing together.”
He’d bet anything Chelsea could dance. On second thought, maybe her upbringing would’ve been too conservative for that. He wanted to find out. Tuck her close against his chest and sway to the music in his head.
Even though she held back vital information?
Yeah, even then. The first flash of anger had passed, and Gabe made a lot of sense. “Thanks, man.”
Gabe glanced over. “That easy? I should hire myself out as a counselor.”
A chuckle burst past the slowly-dissolving knot in Keanan’s throat. “I’m not certain I’d go that far. But you did draw my attention to a point or two I’d pushed aside.”
“Good to know. Sierra rather fancies you as a brother-in-law, you know. She worries about Chelsea.”
Keanan stopped at the end of the Green Acres driveway. The lights in Chelsea’s windows winked out as he watched.
Gabe nudged him. “She’s dropping you off at the airport on Monday on her way to Portland?”
“Yes. Unless she refuses to talk to me again.”
“And force someone else to take the extra trip? We won’t let that happen.”
What would be worse than spending three hours in a car with Chelsea if she refused to talk to him? And he’d brought it all on himself. “I don’t know whether to try to speak with her again tonight or not.”
“I don’t know what went on.” Gabe turned toward him, back to the wind. “But maybe it’s best to let things simmer down overnight. You’ve got tomorrow and Monday. Pray. Sleep. Get perspective. Sierra and I will be praying for both of you.”
Keanan nodded slowly. Reluctantly. “You’re probably right. I’m not sure I can trust myself not to make things worse at the moment.” As for the sleep part, he doubted that would come easily.
“You’ll get through this.” Gabe smacked him on the back.
If he could get through that without hitting the ice, he could get through anything.
Chapter 29
Torture.
Plain and simple. Chelsea had managed to avoid Keanan before church by fixing herself tea and toast in the duplex instead of going up to the house for breakfast. Now she’d made sure she was wedged in the middle of the pew between Claire and Sierra.
Not that Keanan would want to sit beside her anyway, as they’d sometimes done the past few weeks. But she wasn’t going to give him another chance to reject her.
He sat on the other side of Gabe. She could feel his presence even through her sister and brother-in-law. This affinity for him was crazy. More than two people separated them. Africa did, too.
Her mind had spun all night. Yes, she’d been wrong to withhold the information. She should’ve corrected his assumption. She’d gotten good at maneuvering through life by focusing on the things she wanted and avoiding the things she didn’t. She’d worn her rose-colored glasses and played God by creating her own reality.
Now she was in love, and her reality was a disaster she’d brought on herself. But no matter what she said to Keanan and he said to her, Africa would still be between them. If he went, he’d... well, he’d be gone. If he didn’t, he’d resent her for not going, and she’d feel guilty. But he’d go. No question.
Chelsea stood at the right times but found no joy in singing. Even though Keanan wasn’t part of today’s worship team, each song seemed to be one he’d sung to her as he tried to share God’s love with her.
She sat when told and passed the offering plate and dropped in her tithe check. Never had Pastor Ron sounded so much like he was delivering a monologue. Nothing registered in her frozen brain.
If that didn’t panic her, nothing would. She’d spent years of her life listening to sermons that never pierced her armor. Since coming to Galena Landing and finding God’s deep love for her, the words had penetrated.
Today? Not so much. Not only had she lost Keanan, but she’d lost God. Both had been new. Tenuous. Breathtaking.
Chelsea swallowed the lump in her throat for the millionth time. If God had deserted her along with Keanan, there was nothing to hold her in Idaho. Portland didn’t hold the memories of broken dreams. It was a place she could pour herself into her business. She’d only been gone a few months. She could rebuild her company there.
The pain of the break-up with Robert had been nothing compared to this.
Life would resume as it had before, except without the goal of joining the team at the farm someday. Well, she’d find new goals. She was good at them. Detail-oriented.
Keanan’s voice came through the microphone.
She jerked, her eyes focused on the platform. He stood beside Pastor Ron as the minister asked a few questions about the upcoming mission. Keanan glanced over the congregation as he replied, his gaze never coming anywhere near Chelsea.
“I want to pray for our brother.” Pastor Ron placed his hand on Keanan’s shoulder. “If the church elders would please come forward, and anyone else who would like to join us where two or three are gathered together in Jesus’ name.”
Ed Graysen marched down the aisle, followed by Tracy Grindle, Wesley, Rosemary and Steve. Others.
Around Chelsea, the entire Green Acres team stood and filed out of the pew on either side of her. Panic surged. Worse to sit here alone? Everyone in the whole sanctuary would notice. Worse to go to the front? Everyone would think she supported Keanan.
She kind of did, right? She rose and followed Claire down the side aisle, gaze on the floor. If Keanan noticed her there, she didn’t want to know about it.
Ed Graysen prayed. Noel prayed. Steve prayed. A few others prayed. Pastor Ron prayed.
Chelsea fled to her seat as Pastor Ron called the worship team for the closing hymn.
Take my life and let it be consecrated, Lord, to Thee. Take my moments and my days. Let them flow in endless praise.
Keanan was consecrated to God. She wanted to be. She’d made some steps in that direction. But how could her days flow in endless praise when she was so confused?
Take my voice and let me sing always, only, for my King. Take my lips and let them be filled with messages from Thee.
This was Keanan, too. His whole life was turned toward God.
Take my will and make it Thine. It shall be no longer mine.
Chelsea whispered the words past a clogged throat. Her prayer.
Take my heart; it is Thine own. It shall be Thy royal throne. Take my love, my Lord; I pour at Thy feet its treasure store. Take myself and I will be ever, only, all for Thee.
If only. If only life could really be like that.
* * *
As from a distance, Keanan heard the other guys laughing and talking as they chopped vegetables in the farmhouse kitchen. His mind was still on when Chelsea had slipped from the pew and come to the front to join the prayer circle around him.
A sharp elbow to his ribs made him jump.
Gabe peered at the cutting board. “Welsh. It’d be faster to run those through the blender.”
Keanan forced his focus back on his task. Gabe was right. He’d chopped the carrots so finely they might as well have been shredded.
“Those won’t take long to cook.” Noel reached for the board. “We don’t usually let guys off the hook when it’s our day in the kitchen, but you’re less use than Zach.”
Less use than Zach? The man had an infant strapped to his chest while he lifted plates from the shelf above the sink.
“You cause me pain,” Keanan said to Noel.
“Not as much as you’re going to cause yourself with that knife.” Noel’s eyes twinkled. “Seriously. Go talk to that woman already.”
Keanan nodded slowly. He knew he had to, but what could he say? Would she even step aside with him, or would she stay in the midst of the group of women and protect herself from him? There wasn’t much time before the meal was ready, judging from the sounds of the sizzling wok and the aroma of sautéed beef.
He rounded the peninsula and into the dining area then scanned the great room. Jo, Sierra, and Claire had stacks of fabric pieces out. He had heard rumors of a quilt for Claire and Noel’s baby.
His gaze swung toward the big windows. Chelsea sat on the floor with Finnley and Madelynn, snapping together pieces of the wooden train track both children loved. Her curls hid her face.
Take my will and make it Thine. It shall be no longer mine.
The prayer of his heart. That and a plea to God for restoration of his relationship with Chelsea.
“Food’s up!” called Noel.
That hadn’t been long enough to talk to Chelsea, anyway. The children rushed past him to the table. But Chelsea’s eyes found his as she clambered to her feet. He was too far away to offer his hand as an assist. He took a step closer as the other women brushed past.
“Chelsea? Can we talk after lunch?”
She tensed, her jaw flexing slightly. Her chest rose with a long intake of breath. Then she nodded slightly and looked away.
Keanan was surprised to find he had an appetite. Just that small nod from his beloved, and his world had tilted right-side up.
Everyone lingered over Sunday lunch. They always did. He usually liked the chance to catch up without the pressure of the farm work looming over them. Today it took John wailing to pull anyone away from the table. Zach left to change the baby’s diaper while Jo returned to the great room, preparing to feed him.
Noel and Gabe gathered dishes, each giving him a headshake when they caught his eye. He was free to go. Free to pursue Chelsea.
“Want to walk?” he asked quietly.
She glanced toward the window. “It’s nasty out.”
Keanan groaned inwardly. She was correct. The wind flung pellets of snow all but sideways. Not a day for a romantic walk. If romance were in the air at all.
“My place?” Sure, the grain bin was much further from the house, but he couldn’t assume she’d want to let him into her home after last night.
She pursed her lips and nodded.
Keanan helped her into her coat before reaching for his own. As he opened the door for her, his gaze caught on Gabe’s. The other man grinned and pointed heavenward. The reminder that Gabe was praying for him lifted some of the fearful anticipation from Keanan’s heart.
Dear Lord, please give me words. May Your will be done.
A few minutes later he hung Chelsea’s coat on the rack beneath his staircase. He crossed to toss another log into the small wood-burning stove then turned on the kettle. He fixed two mugs of chamomile tea and returned to the sitting area, where she’d curled up in his armchair, knees to her chest.
Well, that signal came as n
o surprise. He’d keep his distance until she changed her body language. Panic shot through him. What if she didn’t? God, please.
“There’s a story Jesus told.” Keanan set down both cups and reached for his Bible. “It’s a parable about forgiveness. It’s the one where a man was brought before a judge because he owed a lot of money and couldn’t repay it.”
Chelsea lifted her cup to her lips, watching him.
“The judge forgave the man. Then he went out, found someone who owed him far less and demanded instant payment. He gave no grace.”
No response.
“Chelsea, I am that man. God has forgiven me so much.” He thumbed through his Bible and read from Psalm 103. “God takes all our crimes — our seemingly inexhaustible sins — and removes them. As far as the east is from the west, He removes them from us.”
The reference to the distance from east to west might not have come at the best time.
“Please forgive me, Chelsea. I don’t have the right to hold that passport against you. I did not act in love last night. I didn’t keep in mind God’s ability to completely forget our sins when we repent.” Was her gaze softening any? “I’ve asked God to forgive me for the hurtful things I said to you. Now I’m asking you. Please.”
She lowered her cup to the side table, a little tea sloshing over the rim. “I forgive you.”
The words were so quiet his ears barely heard them, but his heart leaped in response.
“I was wrong, too. I should’ve told you I had a passport instead of letting you believe that’s why I couldn’t go with you.” She took a deep breath and looked toward the flickering flames. “The real truth is that I don’t want to go. With all this mess between us, I’ve tried to come up with a desire but the fact is, I still really don’t want to. I know sometimes it is necessary to simply do something even when one’s heart isn’t in it, but...” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture.
How could he reply? His invitation for her to join him had been ill thought-out. “I should never have asked you to drop everything at a moment’s notice and spend three months halfway around the world. Can you forgive me?”
Plum Upside Down (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 5) Page 21
