Soul Food (6 page)

She rose but peeked down at him, flirty as all get out. “Mr. Easterday? Would you like a goodnight kiss?”

His spirit soared in a different way now, and joy flushed over him as she bent down to hold his face in both hands. Then she leaned into his cheek and batted it with her eyelashes.

A butterfly kiss.

4

“Jason’s a cutie, don’t you think?” Chelsea asked next morning as she zipped the back of Kelley’s short denim dress.

Kelley, grumpy and tired from visions of Jason dancing in her head all night, couldn’t help snapping back. “He’s nothing but another runaway guy. He can’t wait to get to someplace called Uzbekistan and learn Farsi.”

“Whoa.” Chelsea quickly turned Kelley around. “There’s a lot of emotion going on there.”

Kelley turned her face away because Chelsea had a good way of reading people’s eyes. More than anything, she had to guard her heart. Whew, she liked being with him. “All I mean is, of course he’s attractive. And interesting. Make that fascinating. And he looks like he belongs here. But he doesn’t!”

Using Rachel’s trick, she breathed deep through her nose, mouth closed, to hold back tears of frustration, past heartbreak, and disappointment. “I’m going to be very careful from now on who I hang around with. I waited too long to get some kind of commitment from Ned. And all he could say was rodeo, rodeo, rodeo. And I was there. The blood donor for whenever he got tossed off a bull.”

Chelsea drew her close. “Kel, the Colorado circuit wasn’t enough. He wanted to go national.”

Kelley’s mood lightened. So maybe it was a blessing, Ned’s lack of a proposal, her lack of understanding his goals. That way she hadn’t had to decide whether to follow him around the country. Likely resent him down the line.
God always opened a window when He shut a door.
“Spoken like a true barrel-racing champ.”

“Well, this year’s Stampede will possibly be my last. I’m thinking about a study abroad next year.”

“So you’re a runaway, too?” Kelley teased.

Chelsea punched her arm. “Oh, it’s just a semester. England, most likely. And I’ll still do county fairs, the Friday night rodeos in Rustic Canyon. Now, come on. Ma’ll freak if we miss breakfast. Do you…” her voice changed, “do you miss Hearts Crossing? Back in Sunset Hills, I mean?”

Kelley’s heart skipped a beat. Of course she did. “Yeah. I miss you all. I miss Bryce. But much as I love Ma, it’s kind of nice not to have her hover and nag.”

“I know. It is what she does best. I kind of like being away at school, even with the dorm food.”

Chelsea’s laughter improved Kelley’s mood, and after a spatter of mascara and a dash of pink lipstick, she headed downstairs.

Jason was more than a cutie. She couldn’t deny it, couldn’t deny he made her blood race. Just thinking of him close by on the wagon train tomorrow started her heart pumping. Maybe she should just take advantage of those three days and have a good time. No strings. No expectations. What could that hurt?

She hadn’t been on a real date for a very long time. Not that church was a date.

Or breakfast. So why was Jason lounging against the arrow-back chair at the kitchen table like he belonged there? His warm eyes watched her every move, and of course, she stumbled over a rug as she walked in. Her appetite fled in a crackle of nerves that hadn’t been there last night at supper. What had she been thinking, giving him that foolish butterfly kiss? When, of course, she’d been longing for the real thing all night long. Her skin burned from forehead to toe.

“Just coffee, Ma,” she announced to her mother’s scowl.

“‘Morning, Kelley,” Jason chirped.

“Hey yourself.” She peeked quick at his bright smile.

“Sleep well?” His eyelashes fluttered as though he realized she was the only one looking at him. As silly as the butterfly kisses had been, her heart thrashed against her ribs.

“Yes,” she lied.

“
Coffee
is all you girls have time for,” Ma scolded. “So much for my savory French toast.”

“Right out of Snowy’s cookbook,” Jason said cheerfully.

“Now, get along, y’all,” Ma ordered. “I’ll clean up a tad and hitch a ride with Scott. Hooper and Mallie have already left. It’s Ella’s last choir performance before summer break.” She huffed off.

“Your chariot awaits, ladies.” Jason rose and offered both Kelley and Chelsea an arm.

“OK. Let me get my travel mug.” Kelley wanted casual, yet his touch was anything but.

He drove his big-cab truck competently to town. Chelsea sat in the middle of the bench seat, not the back, prattled nonstop, pointed out every tree stump and bovine, thereby alleviating Kelley from any social responsibility. There wasn’t any flirtation in Chelsea’s demeanor. She just liked people and chatter and knew every tidbit of lore in the state. The perfect Butterbean waitress, and the Colemans loved her.

However, in the church parking lot, Chelsea abandoned Kelley as soon as she spied a gaggle of her friends. Leaving Kelley alone with the man she most wanted to be alone with—and most feared being alone with. At least they’d be joined by two hundred others in a matter of moments.

“We all sit in a swarm,” she said inanely as Jason laid his warm hand over hers where it rested above his elbow. A tremble slid down to her feet as they walked to the big front doors. “Uh, Chelsea’ll catch up.”

She wished she’d waited for the swarm when too many eyes gleaming with speculation followed her inside the sanctuary. Of course Mallie and Hooper had seated themselves in the front row for close-up views of Ella’s choir. Since Jason had never set foot in Mountainview Church before, she knew every eye would follow them up the aisle, and the buzz of well-meant gossip would start the second church ended.

“Wow.” Jason breathed out loud over the organ music and stopped still in his tracks. “I…”

He didn’t seem able to finish his sentence, and she understood. The entire front of the church was window from top to bottom, framing an awe-inspiring vista of the mountains. Even in June, silver crevices of the peaks glistened in the morning sun.

“It’s glorious, isn’t it?” She whispered as she led him toward Mallie and Hooper. “The church council and the architect didn’t want to obstruct the view.”

“They got it right.” Jason directed his eyes from the scene and tipped an imaginary hat at Mallie as they sat down. “I’ve seen Chartres. Notre Dame. St. Paul’s. This fits right up there.” He smiled at Kelley, eyes still wide. “Maybe even beyond,” he whispered.

Her own eyebrows rose. He was like a kid with his Christmas bike.

Within minutes, the rest of the clan arrived just as the children’s choir began their song, and a stray thought clogged in Kelley’s head. What did Jason think about kids of his own? With the scattered family he had, and a dad who couldn’t stay put, what kind of example had he known? For a long moment, memories of her loving and much-missed father rippled through her mind in rhythm to the sweetly off-tune little song. She ached sometimes, realizing he’d never walk her down the aisle or hold her babies. But God never sent more than one could bear.

She all but jerked against Jason at the thought. Where had it come from, oh she of little faith? Was the simple act of entering this sacred, serene place balm for the soul?

Then her grumps returned as she tried to focus on Ella. Anybody could get inspired
inside
a church. It was real life when you needed the jolt, the zing that God was really there with you when you mucked around in the daily grind. And in her case, the grind had come to a complete, hopeless halt. God hadn’t done a thing to jolt and zing her.

After the gathering hymn, Pastor Hale rose with a blessing and his text for the day, looking so “hale” and hearty her own heart melted. But when Ma nudged her to celebrate communion, she shook her head.

“Not today, Ma,” she whispered.

“You all right? Taking the Lord’s meal might help you some.” Ma’s whisper was gentle.

Kelley shook her head again, and Ma didn’t persist. One thing about her, she didn’t harp about one’s faith struggles. In her mind, the Lord always provided. Sometimes Kelley had a hard time understanding. Ma had been through so much, yet her faith stood firm and real.

Ah, well. Kelley’s didn’t. Everybody was allowed a lapse now and then, right? For a brief second, Ma’s hand clasped Kelley’s, her eyes bright with concern but no judgment. As Ma and Rachel got up for the Lord’s Table, her sister-in-law placed baby Matty in Kelley’s arms to tend him for a while. An idea exploded in her head. She had Matty and Ella at hand to uncover Jason’s feelings about kids. If he didn’t like them, case closed. Because somehow, someday, Kelley wanted a houseful.

****

Through the stained glass, sunshine dotted the kids’ faces, and Jason smiled at little Ella. Kids weren’t something he understood, but watching Kelley hold the baby, he suspected she’d be a natural. The preacher stood behind the pulpit, and Jason reined in his attention.

“
Therefore encourage one another and build up one another
,” Pastor Hale read, “
just as you also are doing
. First Thessalonians chapter five, verse eleven.”

As the pastor went on to interpret the verse, the Scriptural passage knocked Jason in the head. His back pressed hard against the wooden pew. He was no stranger to hallowed texts. His parents had explored every possible doctrine out there and exposed him, too, to the world’s great theologians. But never had anything touched his soul. It had all been just a mish-mash of cool-sounding stuff. Was it coincidence that this message of encouragement landed in his ears at the same time Kelley Martin was obviously struggling, he who had never really been to church before? Her distress and unease at her restaurant’s failure—no, make that her personal failure—was almost something he could touch.

Even with the joyous words and music all around him, his shoulders slumped with an odd sadness he couldn’t define. He pulled himself back into the moment, and as the pastor spoke, Jason accepted God’s call.

Our God.
The words sent a shudder ran down his spine, a shudder of goodness so complete Jason knew he’d never be the same. His sadness fled.

Our God.
God, simple and real. Awesome. Not Buddha or Vishnu or any half-baked false prophet. But
God
. King of Kings, Lord of Lords.

Through his brain rang the classic oratory praising Him.

Our God. Mine.

After Rachel returned from communion, Kelley handed Matty back, and for a second, a quick glimpse of some future time with a wife and child of his own flashed in his head. Real wife, not a diversion like his mother was to his father. But maybe it was a good thing his parents had passed the test of time. In spite of everything that had come between them, his parents had shown that relationships could endure.

Facing the altar with its spectacular backdrop of the Rockies, Pastor Hale led the congregation in The Lord’s Prayer. Something wonderful had just happened, and Jason raised his brows, realizing he could recite one or two of the petitions.

After the amen, Pastor Hale was interrupted by a parishioner, then he made a somber announcement.

“We’ve just been asked today to pray for the Colemans. Their son and daughter-in-law were in an auto accident late last night. They survived but are in serious condition. Oscar and Peggy have gone to Rifle to tend the grandkids and help out as they can. Please remember the whole family in your prayers. Let’s join together right now to beseech God’s care.”

From the gasps around him, Jason recognized that the Colemans were highly regarded friends of many people. Then he caught the name. Of course. The popular owners of the café in town. Not knowing what else to do, he bowed his head and joined in, hoping he helped a smidge.

“...and again, Thy will be done. Amen.” Pastor Hale concluded. Turning to face the congregation, he held aloft his arms and dismissed everybody with a blessing.

“Go in peace. You are free.” Then he smiled. “And I hope to see all of you young adults at Bible study in a few minutes while the little ones are off to Sunday school.”

In their crowded aisle, Jason realized that Kelley and Chelsea were both shaken.

Kelley raised moist eyelashes to his gaze. “Oh, that’s a blow. I’ve known Eric Coleman forever. We were in school together from kindergarten to high school. And his mom, why, she taught me everything about a restaurant kitchen. I worked at the Butterbean every Saturday night during my teen years.”

“They’re the sweetest couple ever.” Chelsea moaned. “I can’t even imagine…”

Jason nodded confidently. “Well, I’m sure they’ll make it. And it’s wonderful their folks are close enough to help out.”

Something his never would or could be. Moldova now. Where else next? Suddenly the allure of Uzbekistan began a real and enormous fade. If Jason himself got into a world of hurt, who would be there to take some care?

All the way down the aisle during the recessional, the Martins and other neighbors called out ways to help the Colemans, to make sure Eric’s family had funds. One woman started a list of those who could tend Mrs. Coleman’s vegetable garden. Was there anybody capable of running the little restaurant in their absence, somebody else asked?

Outside, Elaine Martin turned to him. “You and Kelley get to Bible class. I’m going to consult right now with Joanne Hale and figure out how best to assist Oz and Peg. Scott might be able to set up a bank account for those wanting to make donations against hospital expenses. I’ll bet Roberta Lewis could direct some cooking.” She surged off and Jason held a smile. If anybody was capable of anything, Elaine Martin was the one.

Kelley turned to him, eyelids still damp. “I almost wish I had the time to run the café for a few days.”

“I’m sure they’d appreciate it. But don’t you have the chuck cooking to do?”

“Yeah. But still.” She was quiet as they walked across the patio to a long table set up with big coffee urns. “And you know, Jason. You don’t have to go to Bible Study. I’m half tempted to skip it myself.”