by Paula Mowery
She pushed the door shut. “Now, we should be able to do this without you totally removing your clothes. We’ll just have you pull your slacks down a bit and hop up here and see if we can see anything.”
Chelsea followed her instructions and laid back. How had she ended up here? What a mess she was making of her life.
Cold gel on her abdomen caught her attention and she flinched.
“Oops. Sorry. Little bit chilly.” Rita positioned the wand and rubbed it in all directions. “Let’s see.” She paused. “There. Right there.” She pointed to the screen. “There’s your little miracle. A guess—maybe six weeks along.”
Chelsea stifled a sob. It was really true. Warmth spread through her chest. Could she already love someone she didn’t know existed just hours earlier?
She accepted the offered notebook and information from Emma and raced out toward her car.
“Chelsea?”
She flipped around and froze. Kevin Alley.
* * *
Kevin rushed up to Chelsea. Her eyes were red-rimmed and face pale. But his pulse still sped up. His gaze met her creamy brown eyes. “I can’t believe we haven’t crossed paths. I was afraid you’d moved away from our fair town.” He jammed his hands into his pants pockets to stave off fidgeting.
She diverted her eyes as she spoke, just like always. “No, still here.”
“Chelsea, are you all right?”
Her bottom lip and chin quivered and she shook her head. “I don’t know.” Her words were barely audible.
“Can I buy you a sandwich? I was just heading to the café. Please join me.”
Her eyes locked on his. “Are you sure?” Her face brightened.
“Positive.”
“Let me put this stuff in my car.” She unlocked the driver-side door and tossed a notebook onto the seat. “Okay.”
Should he offer his arm? “Shall we?”
Her hand tucked around his elbow. A familiar warmth rushed up his arm. They walked the short distance in silence and then entered Aunt Ruth’s Café.
The long-time proprietor met them at the door. “Hey, kids.”
Kevin chuckled at her address. “Aunt Ruth. How’s business?” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. She reeked of French fry grease.
“Darlin’, the Good Lord continues to bless. Come on back to your favorite booth. Sweet tea? How about you, Chelsea?”
“Tea for me, too. Thanks.” Chelsea slid into the booth.
Kevin plunked onto the bench seat across from her. He studied her as she fumbled with her purse. What was he doing? “Steak and cheese?”
She looked up and grinned. “Please.”
Aunt Ruth delivered their drinks with a flourish. “Now, do I bring y’all Dr. Alley’s favorite?”
“Yep. Two, please.” Kevin sipped his tea.
Aunt Ruth scurried off.
Kevin propped his forearms on the table. “I heard you’re working with Mrs. Tarwater.”
She tucked an errant chunk of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I’m her assistant. Second grade.”
“That’s great. I know you wanted to teach. Are you still going to do that?’
Chelsea stared at her glass and mashed her lips together.
“Hey, what is it?”
She met his gaze. “Oh, Kevin.”
His name pronounced from her lips washed over him in a warmth he had missed. “Chelsea, talk to me.”
“I’m ashamed to admit that all I’ve done since you went away is make a mess of my life. I’ve done exactly what my mother accused me of—I’ve disgraced them.”
In Kevin’s opinion, Chelsea’s mother had always been way too hard on her daughter, driving her away. He was still convinced Mrs. Wilson’s declaration that Chelsea didn’t deserve him had been a big part in Chelsea’s negative answer to his proposal. He shook his head. “Honey.” The term of endearment slipped out. “It can’t be that bad.”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out.
The announcement knocked the air from him like a hard fall. The declaration should have hurt him and pushed him to leave her sitting, but her streaming tears held him fast. He offered her a napkin.
She blotted her wet cheeks. “Thanks.” She sniffed. “I guess you’re sorry you invited me now.”
“I’m still here. Want to tell me about it?”
“He’s Amish. Mom went ballistic when she found out we were seeing each other. She basically kicked me out.” She shrugged. “In some ways, I liked defying her. It’s always been about how what I did reflected on her.” She sipped her tea.
Aunt Ruth plunked red plastic baskets in front of them. “Doing good?”
He winked at the old woman and she smiled, scuttling back to the front counter. He turned his focus back to Chelsea. “So, you’ve told the father?”
“No. He’s returning to join the Amish church.” She picked at her sandwich. “He asked me to go but...no.”
“That explains why I saw you in front of the Pregnancy Center, right?”
“Yep. I’m not sure how I’m going to make it even with their help. I rent a small studio, if you’d even call it that, near the college. I’ve got one more semester for my Associates, but I’ll have to rethink my plan. I should probably save that money for when the baby comes.” She rolled her eyes. “Too much to think about.”
Kevin reached across the table and grasped her hand. “I’ll help you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “No.” Opening her eyes, she leaned in and met his gaze. “I didn’t tell you this to make you feel sorry for me or to help me.”
“That’s not why I offered. We’ve been friends since we were little. We still are, aren’t we?”
A slight smile curved her lips upward. “Yes, although for the life of me I don’t see how you could still want to be friends with me.” Her shoulders slumped.
He chuckled. “It is a mystery. Now, eat your sandwich.” He shoved her arm gently.
CHAPTER THREE
Chelsea waved to Kevin as she pulled her car onto Main Street, heading for her home. Did Kevin know being near him caused her stomach to flutter?
He had returned to Integrity after all. She relived the day she turned down his proposal and tears burned her eyes. Had her mother been wrong? She had vehemently advised Chelsea to say no to Kevin’s proposal. “You don’t want to ruin that boy’s future by holding him back. You’ll see. When he’s free, he’ll go find his life and not look back.”
Now here he was, holding out friendship to her again. Where would she be today if she’d defied her mother and said yes? She shook her head and plopped onto her loveseat. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t reverse time.
Relieved that tomorrow was Saturday, she tumbled into bed early but jumped up again and padded to the kitchenette. She grabbed a sleeve of saltine crackers and scurried to bed. After her eventful day, sleep overtook her rambling mind quickly.
* * *
The next morning a slammed door across the hall jolted Chelsea awake. Her stomach churned and a lump crept up into her throat. She snatched a cracker and crunched it down and then another. Emma was right. Her insides calmed and she threw her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. After one more saltine, she shuffled to the kitchenette and microwaved a bowl of oatmeal.
Soon she plucked away on her laptop, completing a paper due in her educational theories class on Monday night.
A rough draft and two and a half hours later, Chelsea stood, stretched, and grabbed a drink from the fridge. She returned and pecked out the rest of her paper. As she curled her legs under her on the loveseat, her stomach rumbled. Late afternoon sun glowed on the old sheers covering the window. It was getting later. She hurriedly smeared peanut butter and jelly on some bread and bit into it.
A bang on the door jolted her. Who would that be? Before she could ask, a shrill voice echoed through the door. “Chelsea. Chelsea Wilson.”
Mother? She pulled the door open and her mother stormed in. She pl
anted her hands on her hips and glowered at Chelsea.
“Mother, what...”
Mother cut in. “So, is it true?” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you pregnant?”
Chelsea’s throat constricted and her limbs trembled.
“Your silence speaks volumes. Does the disgrace never end?” Her voice rose to a high pitch. “Will you at least be marrying him?”
Chelsea shook her head and swallowed. “No. He’s returned.”
“Well, I hope it was worth it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And, you have nothing to say?”
“No, Mother, not to you. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Really? You bear our family name. People will wonder where I failed and why I couldn’t control you.”
Chelsea gritted her teeth. “Then why are you here?”
“You need to know that your father and I are displeased.”
“I don’t see Dad. Still speaking for him?”
Mother’s nostrils flared. She stormed out.
Chelsea eased the door but stopped halfway when her landlady appeared in the threshold. “Mrs. Jones, can I help you?” She calmed her tone.
“Miss Wilson, I’m afraid I overheard your...discussion.”
“I’m sorry. I know our argument got a bit loud.”
The landlady cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I hate to...” She straightened her shoulders. “We do not allow children here. And besides, I run a reputable boarding house here. You’ll have to seek another place to live.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Jones whirled about and marched down the hallway.
Chelsea pushed the door shut and leaned her back against it, crumpling to the floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks. What was she going to do now? She had to get out of here. Get some air and perspective. She scrambled to her feet, wandered to the sidewalk, and just started walking.
God, I just can’t get it right. Where do I go from here? I don’t even deserve Your help. I’m so sorry.
The tears ran harder, blurring her vision. She stopped and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. Not that it helped since she couldn’t stop crying.
“Chelsea?”
She flipped around.
Kevin rose from the steps he had been sitting on. Her eyes trailed upward, taking in the large historic home. How had she ended up here?
“Are you okay? Come sit down.” He guided her with a gentle hand to her back.
She eased onto the porch step and wrapped her arms around her knees.
“You’ve been crying.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.” She looked him in the eyes. “I didn’t mean to end up on your doorstep.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t want you to think...”
“Chelsea. Don’t. We’ve settled this. Now, what’s got you so upset?”
“My mother paid me a visit and got me kicked out of my room.” She filled in the details. By the end, tears flowed again.
Kevin wrapped his arm about her shoulders and squeezed. “This has an easy fix.”
Chelsea’s head jerked up. “It does?”
He nodded. “You’ll move in here. Upstairs.” His tone was matter of fact.
Her shoulders drooped. “Kevin, I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” He gestured behind him. “There’s way too much house here for just me. Do you know I haven’t been to the second floor in weeks? I live on the first floor.”
“If I did move in, it would be temporary and I would pay rent.”
Kevin grasped her upper arms and pivoted her to face him. He looked her directly in the eyes. “The only deal I’ll make is this. No rent. You finish school this summer. Before the baby.”
“Kevin, I...”
He posted a finger on her lips. “Sh. That’s my offer. You need to complete your degree. If you wait, you won’t go back.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to think about this? You won’t hurt my feelings if you change your mind.”
“You hurt my feelings second-guessing my offer.” He poked out his bottom lip.
She giggled and rolled her eyes. “Okay.” She sighed. “I’ll never be able to repay you.”
“Friendship, remember?” His hazel eyes widened and he leaned in, bumping their sides together.
A tingle danced down her back.
Friendship. That’s all it is.
Her heart wasn’t convinced.
* * *
Kevin stared at Chelsea’s back as she sauntered back down the sidewalk toward her rented room. She refused his offer to drive her home.
When he lost sight of her, he hopped up the steps and back inside. A nudge had resonated from deep in his spirit to issue the proposition of Chelsea moving into his house. Was this some of that God-leading he surrendered to months earlier?
The peace in his heart billowed up as affirmation. He would have to brace himself for disapproval from Chelsea’s mother. But, he would be nearby to deflect Mrs. Wilson’s wrath away from Chelsea. Or at least he would try.
Why would a mother purposely degrade and push her daughter away? Chelsea bore the scars of abuse.
God, help me to mend some of those emotional scars. And, I won’t deny to You or myself that I still have feelings for Chelsea.
Kevin eased into his cozy recliner and grabbed his worn Bible. He needed some wisdom.
He flipped toward a section of James he read from last night but stopped at the end of the first chapter. The words, “Real religion” jumped off the page. He skimmed the verse and then sat back. God considered authentic faith as those who reached out to the homeless and loveless.
Kevin would definitely not allow Chelsea to be homeless. As for being the loveless—no, she wouldn’t lack there, either.
CHAPTER FOUR
Chelsea trailed Kevin up the stairs. A mere week had passed since he’d offered to take her in. He refused to allow her to carry anything large or heavy up to her new living quarters.
He placed the last two boxes in an extra bedroom and brushed his hands. “Now, you’re officially moved in.”
“Except for some unpacking.”
Kevin shrugged. “That’s why I put your boxes in this extra room. You don’t have to get it all done in one day, right?”
“Right. I still just don’t know how to thank you.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “You already have. Many times. But, do you see all the space that’s going to waste up here? You’re doing me a favor. I need to thank you.”
Chelsea chuckled and shook her head. “Okay. Okay.”
“I’m hungry. How about you?”
“Oh, I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“I’ve got the stuff to make our famous stir-fry.” His brows rose.
Chelsea bit her bottom lip. Her heart fluttered. She had to rein in these all too familiar emotions. “Kevin, I know I need to stay out of your way. You don’t have to...”
“Chelsea.” The way he spoke her name with his velvety timbre tone turned her knees to jelly. He shortened the gap between them and gazed into her eyes. His breath brushed her cheek. Heat spread through her chest and up the back of her neck. “We aren’t strangers. Far from it.”
“I know, Kevin, but I don’t want you to regret this.”
He rolled his eyes dramatically and grasped her shoulders. His face was mere inches from hers. “Will you listen to me? Maybe the question is more like—will you trust me?”
Her insides trembled. He paused and looked into her eyes with intense focus. Her pulse pounded harder. He leaned closer. Was he going to kiss her?
A phone ringing broke the silence and distracted Kevin. He yanked his cell from his pocket and looked at the screen. His head shook and he stuck his phone back where it came from. “Let’s go make that stir-fry now. You need to eat.”
“I’ll be right down.”
“Okay.” He brushed past her, leaving a faint scent of piney-musk.
Chelsea let out the breath
she’d been holding in one puff. Her stomach suddenly tightened. Was she going to ruin Kevin’s life? An atmosphere of disgrace seemed to follow her. Few options remained and homelessness couldn’t be considered.
She drew in some cleansing breaths and descended the stairs. Humming drifted from the kitchen and she followed the tune and the delicious aroma that drew her growling stomach.
As she rounded the corner into the room, Kevin glanced up from the wok and grinned. Her legs turned to noodles again. This man could still bring her to this state after five years and Samuel. No, she’d never gotten over Kevin. There was no guessing about that now. Her body and her heart still reacted the same to him.
But, they were in a different place and time. Too much history.
“Come on in. I think we’re about ready. Grab something to drink.” He nodded his head toward the fridge.
How could he act like he cooked them dinner like this all the time? She grabbed a diet soda. “What can I do?”
“Get a couple of plates. They’re still in the same place.”
Chelsea crossed to the cabinet above the sink and pulled down the two plates. “Here you go.”
Kevin scooped generous portions of the stir-fry onto each and carried them to the dining room.
She inhaled. “Wow, that smells good.”
They sat at one end of the large dining table.
“Let’s pray.”
Chelsea bowed as Kevin blessed their food. After a few moments, Kevin looked up from his plate. “We need to get something straight.”
Chelsea paused mid-chew.
“There is no reason for you to eat microwave meals upstairs. I can’t provide a kitchenette like your last place, but there’s no reason for us not to dine right here together. And, anyway, maybe I’ll eat better.” He waved his fork. “Look, I already am.”
“Since you won’t let me pay rent, the least I can do is cook meals.”
“We can take turns.” He winked and returned to eating.
An electrical spark zipped down her spine.
After helping with the dishes, Chelsea folded the dishcloth and laid it beside the sink. “I better get upstairs and tackle my reading for class Monday night.”
