by Lenora Worth
Gracie shrugged.
“Did a little bird tell you?”
Her little niece giggled. “No...”
Ryan made a big show of his first bite. “Wow, this is better than I make. And I make a pretty mean chocolate cake.”
Gracie giggled again. “Want some cake, Aunt Kellie?”
“Yes, please.” Kellie smiled and couldn’t help but ask, “So you cook, too?”
“If I want to eat.” Ryan shoveled in cake and tossed his plate. “Your niece is a good kid. They both are.”
“Dorrie does a great job.”
“I take it your brother’s not around much?”
“He’s not around at all.” Kellie failed to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“Hmm.” Ryan looked puzzled, but gratefully he didn’t ask more. Not with Gracie back with another piece of cake.
Kellie took the offered dessert. “Thanks, Gracie.”
“C’mere.” Gracie grabbed her hand. “I wanna show you something.”
“Want me to hold your cake until you get back?” Ryan’s mouth curved into a wicked grin.
“Not happening.” Kellie found herself grinning back as she followed Gracie down the hall to the bedrooms.
“This one’s mine.”
Kellie took a bite of cake as she peeked into one of the two bedrooms. The room the girls would share. The framed walls had only been partially drywalled, and the flooring hadn’t yet been installed. Carpet would be one of the last details after painting. The place was really coming together with quite a bit completed since the last time she’d been here.
No doubt thanks to Ryan.
Gracie sat on one of two window seats. “Ryan made these for us. Aren’t they cool?”
“Very cool.” And sweet, too. Kellie couldn’t help the warm feeling that settled in her stomach, right next to Gracie’s cake. Ryan seemed like one of the good guys, but was he, truly?
“Pretty neat, huh? Ryan made those out of scrap wood. I told you he knew what he was doing.” Dorrie stood in the doorway.
“Talented guy.” Kellie moved Dorrie’s purse over and sat down on one of the window seats. It felt sturdy. She could easily imagine a fluffy cushion with matching pillows. A perfect place to enjoy the view of the cherry orchard across the street.
“I think he’s got his eye on you.” Dorrie lowered her voice.
Kellie looked at Gracie, but the little girl was looking out of the window at the darkening sky with interest. “Dorrie—”
“I’m just saying.”
“Yeah, well don’t. There’s no way.”
“Why not?”
Kellie gave her a pointed look. Due to a client’s privacy rights, she wasn’t at liberty to discuss the obvious why-nots. Even if she could, Kellie wouldn’t in front of Gracie. The kid was a motormouth.
“We better get to work.” Dorrie gave her a knowing smile.
Kellie’s skin prickled with unease. First Ginny, now Dorrie. This really had to stop.
She stood too quickly and accidentally tipped over Dorrie’s purse, and the contents spilled out onto the floor. Bending down to pick things up, Kellie noticed a letter had fluttered out and lay open at her feet. The words eviction notice caught her attention. She scooped it up before Dorrie could intercept.
“Don’t worry about that.”
Kellie’s gaze flew to hers. “Seriously? I thought you had until the spring to move.”
“Gracie, go help your sister.” Dorrie snatched the letter.
“Awww, Mom.”
“Go on.” After Gracie left, Dorrie explained. “The property sold and the new owners want to move the trailer off the land before the holidays. Before the snow gets too deep.”
Kellie did the math. In two months, her nieces would be homeless. “Where are you going to go?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Could they get this house done before Christmas? “Have you told the construction crew?”
Dorrie stooped down and gathered up the items from her purse. “It’s not their problem.”
Kellie didn’t agree, but she understood how Dorrie worked because Kellie worked the same way. Neither of them relied on others very well. There was less chance for disappointment if they didn’t depend on others.
“Come on. There’s work to do.”
Kellie followed Dorrie back into the living room to hang insulation. As the evening passed, Kellie racked her brain for solutions. Her parents could take the girls, but would Dorrie allow that? She wouldn’t want Hannah and Gracie to miss school here. They’d be the new girls once again. And Hannah had physical therapy coming up as soon as that cast came off.
Would Mrs. Wheeler open her home? She had the room, but Kellie didn’t think the elderly woman cared much for young kids.
By the time they’d cleaned up and the volunteers headed for their cars, Kellie knew she needed to talk to Ryan about Dorrie’s situation. He’d know if they could finish construction before Dorrie’s rented home was literally carted away.
She lagged behind waiting for Dorrie and the girls to leave. But of course, they stalled, and all of them walked out of the house together. Ryan locked the door behind them.
Her chances were slipping away.
“Thanks for your help, Ryan.” Dorrie loaded her girls into their car. “Good night, Kellie. Thanks for coming tonight.”
“You’re welcome.” Kellie watched Ryan head for the building trailer to lock it.
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving.” Dorrie wiggled her eyebrows and then climbed in her car.
“No, it’s not—” The denial died on her lips. Maybe it’d be better to let Dorrie think what she wanted.
Kellie waved as they backed down the driveway, but her insides fluttered when she heard the crunching of gravel behind her. She turned to face Ryan.
He looked surprised to find her still there. “What’s up?”
“Can I talk to you?”
He smiled. “Sure. Want to go somewhere?”
Kellie shook her head. “This will only take a minute.”
“Okay.”
Kellie blew out a breath that curled like white smoke in the cold night air. “How long before the house is ready for Dorrie to move into?”
Ryan shrugged. “Depends on the amount of help we get. Why?”
“Dorrie’s been served with an eviction notice she won’t tell anyone about. I stumbled upon it, so we have to keep this quiet. Can we get this place done before Christmas?”
Ryan shifted on his foot. “We’re going to need more help.”
Kellie nodded. After she took that test, she’d have more time. Besides, Dorrie needed her. “I can be here every night.”
“We’ll need more than you and me.” His voice softened, stealing her equilibrium.
“What about your brother’s church?” Kellie offered.
“What about it?”
“Can’t we round up some more volunteers from there?”
A shadow crossed over Ryan’s face. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t you go there?”
“No.”
Kellie twisted her mouth to resist the temptation to ask him why he didn’t attend his brother’s church. But that was a question for another time and place. Sinclair Marsh’s congregation was the most logical place to rally troops, and she needed Ryan’s help to do that. Dorrie went there, but knowing her, she’d never ask for help.
“Would you be willing to go?”
He grinned at her then. “I’ll go if you do.”
He’d thrown down a challenge. One Kellie had little choice in refusing. She could do this. For Dorrie’s sake, she’d keep her distance and keep it professional. She had to.
Raising her chin, Kellie met
Ryan’s gaze without flinching. “You’re on.”
Chapter Five
Sunday morning, Kellie stepped into a small country church that looked like something she’d seen on a calendar. A quaint structure with white clapboard siding, the place was also pretty on the inside even without stained-glass windows. Decorated with pots of rust-colored mums and pumpkins, it looked like fall but smelled like home with warm scents of Sunday dinner teasing her nose.
Dorrie looked surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d check out your church.” Kellie sniffed again. “What’s with the smell of food?”
Dorrie smiled. “Today is potluck Sunday. Everyone brings a dish to pass. If you want to stay, there’s always more than enough.”
“We’ll see.” Kellie typically attended St. Mary’s in LeNaro because it was what she was used to. She’d grown up attending a traditional church.
“How’d the test go?” Dorrie asked.
Kellie shrugged, but she felt pretty good about how she’d completed her answers. “I’ll find out in three weeks.”
Dorrie smiled. “You’ll do well, I just know it.”
“I hope you’re right.” Kellie looked around as the excited hum of people talking while they trickled into their seats gave the place a cheerful atmosphere. “Where are the girls?”
“Helping Hope set up for children’s church. Hope is the pastor’s wife.” Dorrie slipped into a cushioned pew toward the back.
“Ah.” Ryan’s sister-in-law, who happened to be the sister of his dead fiancée. She’d gathered that information during her phone conversation with Ryan’s brother for the evaluation.
Kellie sat down next to Dorrie, near the aisle. Setting her purse on the floor, she noticed that hymnal books were placed in little shelves on the back of each pew. She picked one up and leafed through it, but only a few of the hymns were familiar. Were these the songs they sang here?
“Aunt Kellie!” Gracie rushed into the pew and gave her a whopping seven-year-old hug.
Kellie looked up in time to see Hannah hobble her way down the aisle followed by an attractive woman with short dark hair. The woman was lovely in a fresh out-of-doors way, but she glowed with more than good health and pretty skin. Happiness maybe?
“Hey, Aunt Kellie.” Hannah made her way around them to sit on the other side of Dorrie.
The woman stopped at the end of their row. “Good morning, Dorrie.” Then she held out her hand. “And welcome. I’m Hope Marsh.”
“Nice to meet you.” Kellie quickly stood and returned the handshake. Did Ryan’s fiancée resemble this woman? Had Sara looked that pure? An envious pang clipped her insides.
Hope smiled, and then her face brightened even more. “Ryan!”
Kellie tamped down irritation that the mere mention of the man’s name sent her stomach to fluttering. She watched Ryan lean close and give his sister-in-law a quick hug.
“I’m really glad you’re here. Sinclair will be, too,” Hope said.
“It’s past time I heard my brother preach.” He turned toward Kellie with a fixed smile on his handsome face. He wasn’t glad to be here. In fact, he looked tense. “Is there room with you?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Kellie remained standing.
She wouldn’t mind talking to Hope a little more. Kellie wanted to squelch the morbid curiosity she had about Ryan’s dead fiancée. It couldn’t be good to feel envious of someone no longer around.
Ryan slipped in behind her, brushing against her back as he did so before sitting down next to Grace.
Kellie didn’t miss the interest in Hope’s gaze or the confusion. It was obvious that Hope tried to connect the dots that might clear up why Ryan sat with her and Dorrie. Not so obvious if Hope thought it was a good thing for Ryan to have moved on after her sister.
Someone called out Hope’s name, and she gave them a wave.
“Excuse me.” Hope squeezed her arm. “Maybe we can chat more after service?”
“That’d be great.” In that moment, Kellie’s impression of Hope was stamped and sealed as a good woman. If Hope’s sister had been half as warm and caring, it was no wonder Ryan couldn’t let go of her memory.
“Good morning.”
Kellie was gripped by another hand belonging to a little old lady with penciled in eyebrows. Stifling her amusement, Kellie managed a return greeting. “Good morning to you.”
“You new? My name’s Mrs. Larson, and I hope you can stay for potluck afterward. I made lasagna.”
Kellie smiled. “Really?”
Mrs. Larson gave her a wink. “The key to good lasagna is to mix mozzarella cheese in with the ricotta.”
“I’ll remember that.” Once she had a real kitchen, maybe she’d even try making it.
Mrs. Larson squeezed her hand and nodded toward Ryan. “This here your beau? I didn’t see a ring?”
Kellie laughed. Her fingers were bare plus she kept her nails trimmed short to keep from chewing them. Not real pretty, but better than the alternative of swollen, red fingertips. “No. This is Ryan. He’s a friend.”
Ryan stood and leaned forward to shake Mrs. Larson’s hand. “How do you do.”
Kellie could feel the warmth of him standing close behind her. There wasn’t much room between pews.
“Ryan what? You look familiar.” Mrs. Larson wouldn’t let go of Ryan’s hand, so he remained standing in an awkward lean-forward position that kept his arm stretched across her back.
“Marsh. I’m your pastor’s brother.”
Mrs. Larson’s eyes lit up, and she kept pumping Ryan’s hand. “He’s doing a wonderful job here. So glad you could come.”
“Thank you. Okay, I better sit down now.”
Kellie swallowed her laugh. The little old lady was a riot and wouldn’t let go of Ryan’s hand. His arm brushed her back again. Kellie was boxed in the pew between Mrs. Larson and the solid wall of Ryan’s body behind her. There was nowhere for her to go. It was oddly comforting and unnerving having Ryan so close.
He finally managed to pull his hand free, giving them both space.
Mrs. Larson gave them a wink and then moved on to greet someone else.
When Ryan sat down, he asked, “What was that all about?”
“I don’t know.” Kellie noticed that he ran a hand through his hair. She sat down, too, but far enough away so that no part of her touched him. This itchy awareness that raged every time Ryan was near was getting old real fast.
She spotted a folded paper in Ryan’s hand that looked like a church program. Reaching out, Kellie asked, “Can I look at that?”
“The bulletin? Sure.” He handed it over. “You can have it.”
“Thanks.” Kellie scanned the bulletin. Church members were listed with their phone numbers and various things they did in the church. Prayer chain, children’s church, volunteer chair—that’s the person they needed to talk to.
She leaned toward Ryan and pointed to the name Judy Graves listed on the bulletin. “Do you know her?”
Ryan nodded.
“We should talk to her, too, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Ryan wiped his hands along the top of his canvas-clad thighs. He didn’t wear jeans today. In fact, he looked quite nice in a pair of khakis and a thick turtleneck sweater matching the chocolate color of his eyes—eyes laced with uneasiness.
“Something wrong?” Kellie asked. The tension in him hadn’t eased. In fact, he seemed more agitated than when he first arrived.
“No.” Ryan Marsh was a poor liar.
Kellie scanned the congregation in front of them, but she couldn’t figure out what the issue might be. And then she spotted Hope talking to a middle-aged couple, who glanced in their direction.
Ryan gave them a stiff nod.
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And it suddenly hit her who those two people might be. Hope’s parents. And that made them Ryan’s almost in-laws.
* * *
Ryan shifted again. When he’d made that deal with Kellie, he hadn’t considered seeing the Petersens at church. Hadn’t prepared for it either. The last time he’d talked to them was at Hope and Sinclair’s wedding. But he’d kept that contact brief and the conversation short.
He scratched his forehead, feeling guilty. Moments ago he’d been contemplating Kellie’s hair. This morning, she wore it pulled back into a thick cascade of curls that reached past her shoulders. While shaking that old lady’s hand, he’d been sorely tempted to bury his nose in Kellie’s loose ponytail and inhale. Seeing Sara’s parents made him ashamed of his thoughts.
Technically, enough time had passed for him to date. His mother had told him that more than a few times over the last couple of years. But dating someone new only made him think more about Sara. He’d tried it a couple of times and found it wasn’t worth the effort.
He glanced at Kellie.
She gave him an understanding smile, but there was no pity in her expression. No fawning, or let-me-make-it-better look in her eyes. Only straightforward compassion. He liked that about her. She wasn’t a coddler.
What he didn’t like was how easily she saw through him. She seemed to know when something bothered him, almost as if she’d read his mind. He took in the burnished color of her hair before leaning back against the pew with a grim smile. Good thing some thoughts were not on display.
By the end of the worship service, Ryan had relaxed. A little. Too often, he’d glance at Kellie singing her heart out next to him. Like when she stumbled through the tune. She’d given him a shrug and a grin but kept on singing even though she hadn’t mastered the melody. Practically every song they sang seemed new to her. Kellie’s voice was low and slightly off-key, but he wouldn’t soon forget it.
When they broke for greeting time, she looked to him. “Is that it?”
He chuckled. “No. We’re taking a break to say hello before Sinclair gives the announcements and a sermon.”
She looked around the congregation that had become noisy with chatter as people darted from pew to pew. “This sure is a talkative church.”
