Meant to Be Mine (A Porter Family Novel Book #2) (36 page)

Near dusk the next day, Celia sat beside Addie at the kitchen table while Addie worked on homework. Refreshing October air slid through the window screens. Chicken and vegetables baked in the oven. Celia’s Bible sat on the table in front of her, unopened.

How was it possible that God had deemed her toddler faith strong enough to face the twin tests of forgiveness and Tawny? It wasn’t strong enough. Yet Celia had told Ty she’d study verses and pray, and so she would.

She flipped open her Bible to the concordance. There, she found a tremendous number of scriptures that dealt with forgiveness. She paged to one of them.

Peter came to Jesus
and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my
brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven
times?”

Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but
seventy-seven times.”

She lifted her head and frowned at the view of her backyard. Seriously? In real life? God expected people to forgive like that? What about the victim? What about all the wrong done to the victim?

What about
, she could almost hear God asking,
the wrongs
you did to me, Celia?

I know. But—but what about fairness, God?

Instantly, she comprehended the answer. If God had been fair to her, He’d have consigned her to hell.

Unrest stirred within Celia as His voice became louder and clearer. He was asking her to forgive Ty.

She shut the Bible and dashed into the pantry to alphabetize her spices. She couldn’t deal with forgiveness today. Maybe tomorrow.

Turns out, it took six tomorrows before Celia
was
ready to deal with forgiveness. Near midnight, a week after she and Ty had talked about second chances on her front porch step, Celia pulled the little chain on her bedside lamp. Golden light beamed from it, and through gritty eyes she regarded the swirl of sheets and blankets pooling around her waist.

Ty had continued to show up for work all week. Continued to kiss her each day. Which seemed to indicate that he’d not yet eloped with Tawny. He was still—for the moment—Celia’s secret boyfriend.

Yet God ws not satisfied. Nor was He meek.

She’d kind of been hoping that God would come into her life and fill her with nothing but the sappy pleasure of a Hallmark commercial. Instead, for the past days, He’d been rubbing against her the way a burr that’s stuck to your shirt rubs against skin. At this point, the burr had become so insistent that she couldn’t sleep.

He wanted her to forgive Ty.

She’d spent time earlier today reading more forgiveness verses. “
You wicked servant
,
”
she’d read.
“I
canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me
to. Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow
servant just as I had on you?”

Celia bowed her head and let her eyelids drift closed. The forgiveness God had given her had not come cheap. It had come at a great price, and still He’d had the courage to do it. In light of that, what right did she have to withhold forgiveness from Ty? She, who’d been so undeservedly forgiven? Couldn’t she cobble together just enough bravery to try?

“I forgive Ty,” she said quietly, tentatively, testing the words. They felt rote, with no true feeling to back them up. Maybe, like Ty had suggested, forgiveness was a decision done out of obedience. Maybe later, the feeling would follow?

I forgive Ty
. She said the words again and again.
I forgive Ty
. She said them silently at times. At times she whispered them. She opened her hands palms up and did her best to let go.

She wasn’t very good at it. Helplessly, desiring to forgive yet lacking the ability, she invited God in. And God, whose character is love, who spoke the world into being, who rescues His people, came.

He came.

And in Him, Celia began to feel her hard heart change.

T
y arrived at the shop the next day right as Celia was pulling his favorite dessert out of the oven.

“Do I smell coconut cream pie?” he called from the front room.

“Nope. You must be imagining things.”

“I’d know that smell anywhere.” He entered the kitchen holding his motorcycle helmet in one hand.

Celia set the first pie on the counter, then reached back for the other two.

“You really must be into me if you’re making coconut cream pie.”

“It was a slow morning.” Not strictly true. She’d simply wanted to bake his favorite.

They let the pie cool to just the right temp, then ate slices of the rich, sweet, milky dessert while standing behind the bakery’s display case, as was their habit.

Celia, who’d ditched her hairnet, but still had on her white apron and her boots, listened as Ty praised her pie, her skill with oven mitts, and her attractiveness to the sky and back.

The shop’s front door opened, admitting an older gentleman.

Celia sensed Ty stiffen. Odd. Ty liked almost everyone, and almost everyone liked him.

“Hello,” Celia called to the gentleman.

“Hello there.” He stepped between two bar stools and extended a sun-darkened hand to her. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Howard Sanders.”

Ah. The wily neighbor that had fought Ty for ownership of Jim’s land. She shook his hand. “I’m Celia.”

“A pleasure.” He had a closely trimmed white beard and a head full of gorgeously thick snow white hair. His similarities to Santa ended there, however. His face and body were as lean, brown, and gnarled as a strip of beef jerky.

Typically, when she and Ty were behind the counter together, Ty took the lead with customers. This time, he did nothing but toss his empty plate and plastic fork in the trash.

“What can I get you?” Celia asked Howard.

“Is that coconut cream?” He lowered onto a bar stool and gestured toward the pie sitting nearby with two slices missing.

“It is. Would you like some?”

“Yes’m. That and a coffee, please.”

“In a Styrofoam cup or china cup?”

“Styrofoam.”

Tense quiet fell between the two men as Celia poured coffee and served up pie. Ty slid the caddie that contained cream and sugar near Howard, then crossed his arms over his chest. “What brings you here, Howard?”

“Coffee and pie.”

“I’ve been coming to Cream or Sugar for a while now, and I haven’t seen you in here even once before.”

“I wasn’t hungry for coffee and pie until now.” Howard took two sips from his cup while he and Ty glared daggers at each other.

Awkward! Celia was on the verge of charting an escape route into the kitchen when Howard moved his attention to her. “Where are you from, young lady?”

“All over. My family moved around a lot. I lived in Texas during my high school years and attended Plano East.”

“Is that right?” He indicated Ty with his coffee. “Did you know Ty there?”

“I did.”

A trio of businessmen stopped in for coffees.

While Ty waited on them, Howard asked her about college, places she’d visited in the Pacific Northwest, and what she thought of Holley. As they spoke, he made steady progress on his pie. Once he’d polished it off, he dug some bills from his ancient billfold and placed them under the lip of his plate. “Nice meeting you.”

“You too.”

He nodded once to Ty, and Ty nodded once back. Then Howard let himself out, leaving Ty and Celia alone in the shop.

Celia took in Ty’s inscrutable expression. “That was strange.”

“He’s strange.”

She opened a new package of napkins and went around to the tables, replenishing the dispensers. She’d no idea how much Ty had spent in order to outbid Howard for Jim’s land. She only knew that she didn’t want his open wallet policy to end up bankrupting him.

“What in the world are you worrying about now?” he asked, when she reached the table nearest his position behind the counter.

“What makes you think I’m worrying?”

“Seriously, Celia? It’s easier than falling off a log to see when you’re worrying. What’s bothering you?”

She pushed more napkins into a container. “You’ve had a string of major expenditures lately.”

“Yes, but remember? I’m a little bit lucky when it comes to the stock market.”

She straightened, her eyes narrowing. “Are you lucky or are you talented?”

“Stupid lucky. That’s all.”

“No. You’re talented at it, aren’t you? Really talented.”

He ignored her, looking away almost uncomfortably.

Whenever he’d mentioned investing in the past, he’d done so with this same sweep-it-under-the-rug attitude. His success seemed to embarrass the man who was never embarrassed. “You don’t like to talk about it because investing isn’t the kind of thing a cowboy from Holley, Texas, should excel at.” She came around the counter,
set her bundle of napkins aside, and confronted him. “Drinking, women, and bull riding. Fine. Making a fortune all by yourself off the stock market? Shameful.”

“As usual, you’re not making a lick of sense.”

“Yes I am, Ty Porter!”

He made a grab behind her and tugged one end of the bow holding her apron secure.

She shrieked and ran. He chased. She put the kitchen’s stainless steel island between them and they circled it a few times.

“Will you bring Addie over to my house tonight?” he asked. “I’ll buy dinner.”

“Maybe. She might have a playdate at a friend’s—”

“I want to kiss you.” His lips were smiling but his eyes had gone smoky and determined. “Right now.”

“You have to catch me first, which might prove challenging with that bum leg.”

“I could catch you even if I only had one leg.”

“Isn’t that somewhat the case?”

A rumbling sound filled his chest. He made a move.

She pounded up the stairs to the second story, laughing. When he caught her in the hallway, he placed both of his hands on the wall above the sides of her head and took his time lowering his mouth to hers. So long, her heart was drumming by the time he did it.

The moment his doorbell sounded, Ty’s mood lifted by a mile. Celia had said she might bring Addie by tonight. He’d pretty much decided she wasn’t coming since she usually came earlier, while it was still light out. The sun had just set.

He swung his door open. “I thought you weren’t coming. . . .”

Tawny stood on his doorstep. And just like the other times she’d visited him at home since his return to Holley, she held food in her hands. She wore a pink and white Dallas Cowboys jersey, tight jeans, and high-heeled silver sandals that matched her big silver earrings.

“Have you had dinner?” She lifted the two covered dishes she carried.

“Not yet.”

“Me either.”

He took the dishes from her. She led the way toward his kitchen.

She wanted to stay and eat with him? She hadn’t stayed before, but he could guess why she’d decided to stay tonight. He set the containers on the granite island.

She leaned over to peel back the lids. “Chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans. Your favorite.”

“Nice.” For the second time today someone had made him his favorite. But only one woman had gotten it right. Chicken-fried steak had been his favorite years ago. His tastes had changed. “I’m surprised you’re still bringing me food, Tawny. I injured myself two months ago.”

“I guess I’m more doting than most.”

“Guess so. Thanks for this.”

“You’re welcome.”

He leaned against his oven and watched her make herself at home in his kitchen.

“I’m wearing my jersey,” she said as she worked, “because I brought over the DVD of the ’93 Super Bowl. Remember that time you hurt your shoulder and we stayed up all night watching one Cowboys Super Bowl after another, eating popcorn and Red Vines?”

“Yep.” They’d been dating then. Mostly he remembered that they’d made out from one end of the sofa to the other while football had played in the background.

“I thought a Super Bowl might be just what you needed to heal your knee.”

If so, she’d arrived too late. The knee had already done most of its healing.

Tawny chatted about mutual friends while she set two places for them in front of the tall chairs at the island, poured drinks, warmed up the food.

She’d never looked prettier. She was pretty enough to pose for a
NASCAR or motorcycle poster. The kind of pretty that made men take a second look, that made them do and say stupid things. Ty found himself fascinated by her. For the first time in a long time, he was seeing Tawny with new eyes.

“Shall we?” She waved to their filled plates.

They sat. She grabbed his hand, lowered her head, and said grace over their meal. Before letting go, she gave his fingers a squeeze.

As they started eating, she went back to talking, this time about Holley’s upcoming fall parade. Ty watched her smooth a section of long dark hair over her shoulder. When she laughed, her blue eyes sparkled.

They had a very long history, the two of them. Dozens of snapshots of her passed through his brain. The neat-as-a-pin elementary school girl. The homecoming queen who’d dated the richest kid at their high school. The first time he’d seen her after returning from the Marines, when she’d been wearing a sorority T-shirt and her hair in a ponytail.

He didn’t eat much, though the food tasted good. He talked some. Mostly, he listened. The thoughts filling his head were a lot to wrestle with, to understand.

“Did you hear that Vance and I broke up?”

So. She was finally getting around to her reason for coming. “At least ten people have told me about your breakup. Probably more like twenty.” He set down his fork and turned to face her, hooking one boot heel on his chair’s rung, planting the other boot squarely against the floor. “I told you that Dr. Amateur’s time was running out. He gave it an okay effort, but he didn’t even make it as long as most.”

“No.”

“What happened between you two?”

“We—”

“Actually, let me guess.” He scratched his neck, his lips curving up. “He lost his medical license? No? His Range Rover got a flat tire? No? He announced he was gay?”

She chuckled. “None of the above.”

“Did he tell you he wanted to marry you, and you told him you weren’t ready?”

Both of their smiles faded until only seriousness remained. Ty braced his hands on his thighs.

“I realized,” she said, “that I cared about someone else.”

“Who?”

She shot him a flirtatious look and rose to clear the dishes. Once she had them all in the sink, she walked into his pantry and came out with a bag of Red Vines. He still ate them and still kept them stocked. She offered him two. He took them but set them aside. She slid her chair out of the way with her hip and stood very close to his bent knee. She took a dainty bite of licorice.

“We’ve never had very good timing, have we, Tawny?”

“What do you mean?”

“I wanted to marry you before the National Finals Rodeo in Vegas that year, but you turned me down.”

“I just needed a little more time.”

“Then, for years afterward, I waited for you.”

Her face warmed with pleasure.

He lowered his brows—

She leaned into him and pressed her lips to his. She smelled like expensive perfume and lip gloss and his past. He pulled back, then gently, but steadily, set her away from him.

He’d been right about Tawny all along. She was perfect.

What he hadn’t understood before? Perfect was a bore. Perfect was like a Red Vine—tight and bright in color. Imperfect was like coconut cream pie, which ran across your plate and made a delicious mess when you ate it warm. He liked coconut cream pie way more than he liked Red Vines.

Tawny was waiting for him to say something, looking at him with sleepy, hungry eyes.

“I’m married,” he said.

“For how much longer?”

“Well, that’s what I was trying to say earlier about timing. I’m hoping to stay married to Celia for the rest of my life.”

Tawny stepped back, her expression sharpening with confusion.

He gave her time to let his words sink in.

“What about us?” she finally asked.

“We’ll live in Holley the rest of our lives, and I’ll always like you. And I’ll compliment you to other people, and we’ll be friends.”

“I thought we’d end up together, Ty.”

“Up until a few months ago, so did I. But now everything’s changed.”

She frowned down at her shoes, pushed the heel of one of them into his floor, then looked back up. “It doesn’t have to be too late for us.”

“It doesn’t have to be. But it is. Our timing is so bad, that it almost makes me think we were never meant to marry each other. We had our chances. If we’d been meant for each other, we’d have taken them.”

Moisture filled her eyes. She blinked quickly and turned away. “I guess I’ll just . . . I’ll get my dishes and—”

“Leave the dishes. I’ll wash them and leave them on your doorstep tomorrow.” He pushed to his feet and handed her a napkin.

She took the napkin and pressed it against the inside corner of each eye.

It had never been in him to feel comfortable about hurting a woman’s feelings. He opened his arms. She hesitated, then moved forward to hug him. He hugged her back. It felt bittersweet to say good-bye to someone that, for a big part of your life, you thought you’d marry. They stepped apart.