A Family for Faith

“Wow, look at you. You’re all ready.”

“Just call me Miss Responsible. And be sure to tell Dad.” She gave Faith a silly wink, then laughed at herself.

“Believe me, I will.” She folded the bedspread back to the foot of the bed. “Do you need anything before I tuck you in?”

Chelsea shrugged and looked down at her book as she twirled hair around her finger. “I don’t think so.” Her hesitation was just long enough that Faith knew she actually did want something.

“What is it, Chelsea?”

“Well, it’s been a long time since anyone dried my hair. Dad’s too spastic—gets it all tangled. And I never ask my regular babysitter, because she’s usually studying or cleaning the house. And, well…” She continued to twirl strands of wet hair in a circle.

Faith gestured toward the hallway. “Come on. I’ve never gotten to do the girl-hair thing.”

Chelsea’s face lit up and she clapped her hands like a young child. She hopped off the bed and raced to the bathroom.

As Faith scrunched Chelsea’s curls and blew hot air over them, Chelsea chattered over the loud whir of the motor. “I called Valerie tonight. She invited me to a party at her house—a boy-girl party.”

Faith snapped off the hair dryer. “So is this a first, having boys at a party?”

She grinned and nodded. “I hope I can go. Gotta ask Dad.”

Faith could only imagine how Gabe would react to this. “Just be sure to find out all the details first. Like, making sure her parents will be home.”

“I don’t know everything for sure yet. Except that Parker will be there.” The last was said in a joyful, singsong voice.

Chelsea could count on the fact her dad wouldn’t be happy about that. Faith bit back a smile as she turned the dryer on. Once the hair was dry, she pulled a brush through the silky waves. “There. All done.”

Chelsea fluffed her curls. “Nice job. Thanks, Faith.” But her interest in her hair was short-lived. She turned away from the mirror and looked up at Faith. “Will you tell my dad about the party for me? It seems like anytime I try to talk to him about anything but studying or church, he goes into cop mode.”

Dodging further involvement as mediator, she said, “Like any dad, he loves you and wants you to be safe. To be happy.”

“Well, I won’t be happy unless he lightens up a little.” She walked back to her room and climbed into bed. “I really, really want to do this. And maybe I could even spend the night at Valerie’s afterward.”

Faith had loved slumber parties. And regular parties—especially the boy-girl variety. In high school, she’d loved to dress up and go to dances, to hang out with friends, to go out on dates.

But then she got pregnant. So she knew all about wanting to socialize yet being unable.

Still, Gabe would understandably be concerned. She sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll mention it to him. But be prepared for a no.”

“I’m used to hearing no. We’ll just have to change his mind.” She hugged Faith. “Thank you. I’m so glad you came tonight.”

Before Faith realized what she was doing, she kissed the top of Chelsea’s head. A motherly gesture she hadn’t had the opportunity to do for so long. The sweetness of it pierced her, making her ache in regret for mistakes she’d made. For all she’d lost.

Because of her teen pregnancy and the divorce, she’d tried to protect Ben from making mistakes, which had ultimately driven him away from her. And now it seemed their relationship hung by a thread.

She stood and pulled the covers over Chelsea. “Sleep tight. Don’t forget your prayers.”

Once Chelsea was tucked in, Faith went to clean the kitchen. But Chelsea and Gabe had done an excellent job already. She couldn’t even find a trace of what they’d eaten for dinner. So she busied herself cleaning the toaster.

About the time she finished brushing crumbs out of the little trapdoor and buffing the chrome exterior to a perfect shine, the back door opened, and Gabe walked in. “Hi. She in bed?”

Her heart stuttered. Having him nearby made the room feel two sizes smaller. “Yes. Just a little while ago.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate you stepping in.”

His grateful smile made her want to turn away, to find something to keep her busy rather than have to look into his penetrating dark eyes. But with the spotless kitchen, she didn’t have any option other than facing him head-on—and dealing with this sudden nervousness around him. “So…did you catch your crook?”

“No. I imagine my car ran him off.”

Unable to maintain eye contact, she refolded a dish towel and laid it beside the sink. “I have to brag on your daughter. She had showered and was in bed reading when I went back to check on her at bedtime.”

He leaned against the kitchen counter. Though he should be proud, he appeared troubled. “She’s growing up too fast.”

“I know it may feel too fast to you, but I think she’s pretty much on target. Other kids her age seem to be facing the same issues.”

“Seems all kids grow up too quickly these days.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I think going to the café this afternoon was good for her.”

“Until you showed up,” she teased. Then she grinned at him to ease the jab.

“Yeah, well, she and I had a little talk. If you’ll let her drop by again tomorrow, I’ll try to keep my nose out of it.”

Surely Faith could handle that. It wasn’t as if she were committing to raising the girl. And it would be a nice step of independence for Chelsea. “Sure. She’s welcome to come back.” She stood straighter and forced her attention away from his handsome face. “And while you’re feeling generous, we need to talk.”

He pulled out the chair and indicated for her to have a seat. “What’s up?”

As they sat across from each other at the table, she chose to use an oh, this is so cute approach and forced out a laugh. “Well, get ready, Chief Dad. There’s more to come.”

He leaned on his forearms, all seriousness, not falling for her lighthearted approach. “Suppose you fill me in.” His nearly black eyes bore into hers, and she found it difficult to meet his gaze.

“Chelsea has been invited to a party. Her first girl-boy party.” She held her breath. Waiting.

He paused for a heartbeat. “No way is she doing that.” He frowned for another few seconds, then he relaxed back in his chair. “She’s been like a roller coaster all summer. Emotions all over the place. Maybe this liking-boys phase will pass.”

“Well, I think she may be hitting the time when she’ll start liking them more often than not. Especially when it involves Parker Pruitt.”

The frown reformed. “I suppose she does like him. And he’ll be at this party?”

Faith wasn’t so sure this conversation was going to help Chelsea at all. “She thinks so.”

“Chels is not going to any parties.”

Faith recognized that determined look on his face. She was fairly certain she’d worn it herself at some point with Ben. “I totally understand. I tried the same with Ben, but it backfired.”

“How can doing what needs to be done—the right thing—backfire?”

She didn’t know how she could explain without revealing how she’d failed with her son. “I told you, I think being overprotective can be a mistake. So please don’t nix the idea without talking to Valerie’s parents first. The girl’s mother seems very responsible.”

He shook his head as he got up from the table, pretty much dismissing her and her ideas.

She followed suit, grabbed her purse off the counter, then opened the door. “I guess I need to get back to the café to finish up.”

“Thanks for helping out tonight.”

She hadn’t come willingly, had done so out of a sense of guilt. But if she were honest, she would acknowledge she’d actually enjoyed herself. “No problem.”

He nodded his goodbye. “She’ll change her mind about the party, you know. She’s not entirely ready to be a teenager. I see glimpses of my little girl all the time.”

“Yeah. Maybe so.” Faith hated to rain on his parade. But she suspected this time he was in for a surprise.

Late the next morning, Faith left the café and made a quick run to the bank. When she returned through the back door, the dark, rich aroma of coffee greeted her. She didn’t think she would ever get tired of the smell, and in some ways, the café felt more like home than her house did. Maybe because the little bit of a social life she enjoyed revolved around work.

And also around church. Although, she often still felt like an outsider. Unless you were born and raised in Corinthia, you weren’t truly part of that inner circle that got invited over for birthday parties or Sunday dinner or spur-of-the-moment get-togethers.

She called into the dining room to let Natalie know she had returned. While she washed her hands and put on her apron, she heard Miss Ann’s distinctive voice—rather high-pitched and raspy. And very, very Southern.

Miss Ann was a church icon. Whenever townspeople had a problem, they went straight to her for prayer and guidance. And though the woman had lost a lot in her lifetime, she always radiated joy. Always had a kind word. Always wore a smile.

Faith hurried out from the kitchen with an important request in mind. “Hey, Miss Ann.”

“I was just praying for you, Faith. Always do whenever I’m near the café.”

She patted Ann’s shoulder. “And I’m honored that’s just about daily.”

Ann smiled with rheumy blue eyes the color of an October sky as she held up her mug of hot chocolate—with skim milk and marshmallows—in a mock toast. “Couldn’t make it without my daily dose of chocolate.”

“Thank you for the prayers. And I have a request for you.” Faith pulled out a chair and joined Ann at the small, square table she came to each morning to read her Bible. The carnations in the vase looked a bit ragged, so Faith picked off a browning leaf, straightened them and made a mental note to replace them a day early.

“What is it, dear?”

It wasn’t easy to open up and share her worries. But she needed the prayer support, so she took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I’ve sort of been thrown into Gabe Reynolds’s life the last day or so. I’m trying to help him out a bit with Chelsea.”

A grin spread across Ann’s face. “You don’t say.”

“I feel torn. I’d like to help, but I’m so busy here, getting ready for Ben’s visit, training Natalie to take over during my vacation. And dealing with a middle schooler…” She hadn’t told Ann any more than she’d told anyone else in town, but she hoped the woman would understand her fear. “Please be praying that it goes well all around.”

“So is he having trouble with Chelsea?”

“Sort of.” She wasn’t sure how much to share about his situation. But Ann seemed to be discreet and trustworthy. “Chelsea’s growing up. And he’s resisting it.”

Ann shut her eyes as she grabbed Faith’s hand and held tight with a surprisingly strong grip. She said a short but powerful prayer for Chelsea and Gabe, then she squeezed and let go.

“Thanks, Ann. I guess I better go restock for the afternoon crowd and let you get back to the Scriptures.”

As Faith added cookies and muffins to the display case, brought out fresh bags of coffee and refilled the napkin holders, the breakfast crowd dwindled. All except for Ann, who continued to read.

All morning long, every time the door opened, Faith jumped to attention, wondering if it might be Gabe, bringing Chelsea.

At around eleven, they finally walked in. To Faith’s dismay, at the sight of Gabe her heart raced and her face burned, scalding her from the inside out. She turned her back to try to gather her wits as she called out, “Welcome. You want your regular, Chief Reynolds?”

“Sure. And a hot chocolate for Chelsea, please.” His deep, resonant voice filled the café and seemed to close the distance between them.

“Whipped cream, Chelsea?”

“Yes, please. Oh, hi, Miss Ann!” Chelsea dashed across the dining room and joined Ann at her table.

“Mornin’, Miss Ann,” Gabe called. He walked toward Faith. As she poured him a cup of coffee and added one packet of sugar, he leaned his thick muscular forearms on the counter and watched her, his intense coffee-colored eyes following her every move.

Why did he always do that? And why did it seem to matter to her more today than it had before?

Another blush wormed its way along her neck and up to her cheeks. Steaming hot coffee didn’t help matters any. “Here you go.” Once she handed over the cup, she reached under the glass cake stand with a pair of tongs and grabbed several doughnut holes.

He always accepted a bag full even though he complained it would ruin his appetite.

He pulled out his wallet.

“You are not going to pay me. Don’t try again.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it. You mowed my grass last week before I could get to it. This is the least I can do.”

“Just being neighborly. And I still say you’re trying to get me addicted to your homemade doughnuts so my car out front will be like an endorsement.”

She bit back a smile. “Guilty.”

His laugh rang out across the café. “Gotta run. I’ll be back for Chelsea in a couple of hours, if that’ll work.”

“Let her stay as long as she likes. If her friends show up this afternoon she’ll want to hang out. We’ll either call you when she’s ready to go, or I’ll run her home.”

“Thanks, Faith.” He told his daughter and Miss Ann goodbye, then saluted Faith with the bag of doughnut holes as he left.

Once her heart rate returned to normal and her cheeks quit flaming, she carried Chelsea’s hot chocolate over and joined Chelsea and Ann.

Ann had closed her Bible and was listening intently.

The girl jumped up and down in her seat when she saw Faith. “Oh, I’ve been dying to ask. Did you talk to Dad last night?”

“Yes. And I’m afraid he’s not going to let you go to the party.”

Chelsea sank back in her chair, her face forlorn. “Oh, man. If you can’t talk him into it, I know I can’t. He’s so stubborn. And miserable. I just wish he had something to do besides worry about me.”

Ann flipped her notebook open. “I’ll add your dad to my prayer list, too.”

“Thanks. Pray that he’ll finally be happy. It’s hard to see him when he gets down, especially at home.”

The three of them sat at the table digesting her statement. Faith found herself praying for happiness for Gabe and his daughter. For healing from the grief of loss of such a wonderful wife and mother.

Chelsea sucked in a breath. “You know, I have something else for you to pray about.” She had a little gleam in her eye. “Ever since Sunday night, I’ve been thinking Dad needs something to occupy his time. So—” she signaled for the two of them to lean in closer “—I want y’all to find a bunch of people to be praying for him…to find a girlfriend.”

Gabe would be mortified. “Not on the church-wide prayer chain, Chelsea,” Faith said.

Ann chuckled. “You sure are a sneaky one, child.”

“His whole life is this town and me—specifically keeping me his overly safe little girl. I want him to have some fun.”

Faith wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Surely it was a good plan. He did need some outside interests. But a girlfriend? On the prayer chain?

She should be all for this. So why did the idea grate against her nerves?

“What do you think, Faith?” Chelsea asked.

“You know your dad won’t go along with this. When would he have time to go out?”

“That’s the point. He needs to make time. To be forced to make time.” She grinned at the perfection of her plan.

“How about I add it to my personal prayer list and ask a couple of friends to join in praying?” Ann said as she picked up her cane and slowly got up. “This’ll be fun.”

Faith wasn’t so enthused. All she could think about as she waved goodbye to Ann was that Gabe would be angry. And she would be miserable.

But why would watching Gabe go out and have fun make her miserable? Did she feel more than a neighborly connection? More than friendship?

No. That was impossible.

“I need your help,” Chelsea said, drawing her away from her thoughts.

Faith frowned. “What?”

“We’re going to find him a nice woman. Fix him up.”

“We are?”

“Yep. And I have an idea for the first one. You!”

“Me?” she asked, entirely too loudly.

“You two have a lot in common—your yards…coffee…church.”

“But he doesn’t even go to church.” Okay, so that was a low blow. The poor man found it difficult to attend without the love of his life. “Besides, we’re just friends.”

Chelsea shrugged. “Oh. Okay. Well, what about Hannah, from church? We just need to figure out how to get her to ask him out.”

Faith’s head nearly spun. She hadn’t thought of Hannah. But she was perfect for Gabe—and perfect for Chelsea. Hannah was a widowed single mom, a really good mom, always active in her children’s lives. A model Christian woman. Gorgeous. “She would be a good choice.”

“You know her, don’t you?”

“She works at the bank, and I’ve catered some events for them.”

“Perfect! Call her. Tell her to ask Dad out.” Chelsea’s grin nearly lit the room.

Surely Gabe was going to kill her for this. Then again, he might end up blissfully in love and would thank her. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Oh, thank you, Faith! Dad will be so much happier. And I’ll be able to live my own life without him worrying about every breath I take.”

Faith’s stomach seized into a knot. And she could now worry over why she was so resistant to playing matchmaker for her neighbor.

That evening as Gabe took a stroll down Main Street, checking to make sure business owners had closed up tight, he passed two ladies he knew from church walking down the street toward the high school—probably headed for the walking track.

“Evenin’, ladies.”

“Evenin’, Chief,” Kendra said, then giggled as if she’d said the funniest thing on earth.

“Got a hot date tonight?” Jeannie asked.

Jeannie wasn’t usually someone who teased like that. “Uh…no, ma’am.”

“That’s okay. Give it some time.”

The two laughed as they walked on past.

Strange.

He finished his rounds and headed home. When he walked in the kitchen, Chelsea was setting the table for dinner. Faith was washing pots and pans. Seeing her with her hands in the dish bubbles at his sink brought him up short as a jolt of longing shot through him. A good, I-like-this-scenario jolt.

For a split second, his life felt normal. A brief respite in a rocky five years.

He shook it off and focused on his daughter. The huge grin Chelsea gave him made him want to look over his shoulder to see if the comical Kendra and Jeannie were outside making faces.

“What’s up?” he asked them.

“We started dinner,” Faith said with her back to him, wiping a dish towel over the outside of a frying pan.

“You have a phone message. I left it on your desk,” Chelsea said, and the grin somehow managed to broaden.

He narrowed his eyes. “You sure are cheerful.”

“Oh, I’m just excited about the party this Friday.”

“Party?”

“Daaaad. You know this info. Faith said she told you.”

“Oh, that party. Well, you aren’t going to any parties with boys.”

“I think you’ll change your mind.” She gave him the happiest, most hopeful grin and batted huge, puppy-dog eyes. Must be some new manipulative tool she’d picked up.

“Chels—”

“Pleeeease…You have to let me. I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise. I just have to go or I’ll be a total outcast.”

Talk about exaggeration. “You’re impossible.” He glanced at Faith, who seemed awfully busy drying the already-dry skillet. “Faith, you sure are giving that pan a work over.”

“What? Oh.” She looked a million miles away. She pulled her gaze away and placed the skillet in the cabinet. “Time to go home.”

He’d thought maybe she felt guilty about encouraging Chelsea over the party. But now he realized she hadn’t even been listening to them. She seemed distracted.

After Faith told Chelsea good-night, she headed out the back door to make the short walk next door.

He followed her to the porch and leaned against the railing. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She finally looked directly at him. The glow from the setting sun made her eyes look bluer than usual. Such a pretty color.

She puffed out air that blew her bangs off her face. Then she messed with her ponytail. “I’m just out of sorts. Don’t know why.”

“I guess Chelsea and I have put an extra burden on you the last few days. I’m sorry.”

Her brows drew downward. “No, it’s not that at all.”

“Then tell me.” He motioned for her to sit on the steps beside him.

She started to join him, but then she popped back up. “No, really. It’s nothing. I’ve got to go. And you need to go return Hannah’s call.” She gave him a crooked smile, then walked away. “Good night.”

Hannah? Now why would she be calling?

Must be something to do with security at the bank.

He walked inside to his desk, picked up the sticky note with Chelsea’s loopy handwriting, then dialed the phone number she’d carefully written with a huge smiley face beside it.

“Hi, Hannah. Chelsea said you called.”

“Oh, hi, Gabe. Thanks for calling back. I, uh…well, this is awkward…but I was…uh…wondering, well…”

“Is something wrong?”

“Would you like to go to dinner this Saturday night?”

Dinner? “Is there something going on at the bank?” He hadn’t heard of anything. But he couldn’t keep up with every business in town.

A high, bubbly laugh burst out of her. “Oh, I’ve messed up this whole thing.” She laughed again. “I’m trying to ask you out.”

Ask him out? “For a bank business dinner?”

“For a date!” she practically hollered, as if trying to get it through his thick skull. He felt thick-skulled at the moment. “A date. You’re asking me to dinner as a date? Not something bank-sponsored?”

She chuckled. “I never once mentioned work or the bank. You just assumed.”

Surely he’d been tossed into some parallel universe. He didn’t go out on dates. And women never asked him out. What was going on?

Chelsea’s big grin, her smiley-faced sticky note, Faith’s awkwardness…

“Hannah, did someone put you up to this?”

“No. It may have been suggested, but I—”

“My daughter.” He would ground her for a month. For a year. And she could forget ever having a cell phone. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I hate that she put you in this position.”

“Oh, don’t apologize. It seems like a good idea. I just never thought you would consider it.”

“You’re right. I’m nowhere near ready to date. I’m sorry Chelsea put us in this awkward position.”

“Maybe it is time, Gabe,” she said softly. “For both of us.”

Faith’s face flashed into his mind, almost as if she’d spoken the words. He shook his head to clear the thought. “I appreciate the offer, Hannah. Maybe another time.”

As soon as they hung up, he stomped to Chelsea’s room and banged on the door, making the hand-painted name plate bounce and rattle.

“Come in,” she said as sweet as sugar.

He marched inside and found her sitting on her bed reading a teen celebrity magazine. “Don’t try to get me dates.”

“Who, me?” Her face radiated pure innocence from the frilly pink pillow shams.

It was enough to defuse his anger. But embarrassment still made the skin on his face feel a size too small. “Don’t be playing matchmaker.”

Chelsea scuttled over to the edge of the bed and looked up at him with an innocent expression. Her hair was shiny and her cheeks rosy. “Hannah sure is pretty. And not dating anyone.”

“Doesn’t matter. Now, behave. Dinner’s in ten minutes.”

She reached out with her small, soft hand and touched his arm. “Just think about it. You never know what God may have planned for you.”

Chelsea’s faith—and her ability to talk about it openly—always threw him off balance. But God? What did God have to do with this lark?