by Arlene James
“Was King David a brute when he slew Goliath?” Chandler demanded. “Was Gideon a brute when he led God’s army? Was Joshua—”
“What is going on?” Stephen roared, effectively silencing the room, so effectively that he was a little embarrassed. “You didn’t bring me here to watch a family feud,” he added sullenly.
“I didn’t bring you here at all,” Hub grumbled.
“That was me,” Morgan admitted cheerily. “Only seems reasonable if sis is going to marry him.”
Startled, Stephen swung his gaze to Kaylie, who stood in the center of the room, twisting her hands together. Her face colored, and she wouldn’t look at him, but he could have cried for joy. He’d always known that with Kaylie Chatam it would be marriage or nothing. He couldn’t bear the thought of nothing, but he’d hardly dared hope for anything else.
“I didn’t say I was going to marry him,” she refuted smartly. “I only said that I’d marry him if he asked me to.”
“He will,” Stephen said flatly. “He is.” He glared at Chandler when he said it, but the big cowboy was looking poleaxed.
“Sugar, are you sure about this?” Chandler asked, moving forward to cup Kaylie’s elbows in his big hands. “He’s a hockey player. That’s a different world.”
“I’m not from Mars,” Stephen said dryly. “My father’s a rancher in west Texas. Mom’s a fashion designer in Amsterdam. My stepfather’s a flower broker.”
“Flower broker!” Chandler yelped.
“It’s big business over there,” Bayard put in helpfully. “Largest flower market in the world.”
“Well, there you have it,” Morgan pronounced. “Big business and big money with a side order of west Texas thrown in. What else could you want?” He wagged his finger at no one in particular, adding, “And you said I shouldn’t have brought him along.”
“You didn’t bring him here,” Kaylie said, moving to Stephen’s side and sliding her arm across his shoulders. He carefully let out a breath that he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding and reached up to grasp her hand. “Not really. God did. I’m convinced of it.”
Stephen closed his eyes. Thank You, Lord.
“You believe that because you want to believe it,” Hub said desperately.
“Yes,” Kaylie gently replied, “and you won’t believe it because you don’t want to, but I love him, and I believe God means us to be together, and that’s all there is to it.”
“You love me?” Stephen said, as near tears as he could possibly be without sobbing.
“Of course I do.”
“And I love you,” Stephen hastily supplied, laughing with relief as moisture gathered in the corners of his eyes. He reached across with his right arm, wrapped it around her waist and pulled her down onto his lap. Kaylie’s soft smile launched his heart into a whole new stratosphere of delight.
“But what about Dad?” Bayard was demanding.
“If you marry, he’ll be alone,” Chandler said worriedly to Kaylie.
“I’m alone, Chan,” Morgan pointed out, “and so are you. Bay’s the only one of us who has his own family.”
“But Dad’s health—” Chandler began.
“Is better than most men’s his age,” Kaylie said gently.
Hubner cast a look at that portrait over the mantel, grimaced and turned away. In that moment, Stephen understood a large part of the problem. It was fear, the fear of loneliness and change, but the solution was so simple that he didn’t understand why they couldn’t all see it.
“Who says he has to live alone?”
“I won’t have a babysitter!” Hub declared bitterly. “And I won’t be forced into one of those smelly warehouses.” He visibly shuddered at the thought. “I won’t be foisted onto my sisters, either. They’re almost as old as I am, and they sacrificed enough of their lives taking care of our father.”
“But you’d have Kaylie do the same thing,” Morgan pointed out.
Hubner blanched, muttering, “It’s not the same thing. Kaylie has a calling.”
“To nursing,” Kaylie said, “not to singlehood. The aunts are called to singleness, Dad. I am not.”
“You’re missing the point,” Stephen said, tugging on Kaylie’s hand. He smiled up at her, saying, “I have no objection to Mr. Chatam living with us.”
Kaylie gasped. “Stephen!”
“I’ll take you any way I can get you, sweetheart. Aunts, brothers, fathers, the whole kit and kaboodle, whatever it takes. Besides,” he whispered into her ear, “I have a really big house.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “Stephen.”
Across the room, Hubner Chatam’s eyes had widened behind his glasses. “I—I couldn’t leave Buffalo Creek,” he sputtered, but Stephen detected a note of hopefulness in his voice.
“Why not?” Morgan asked. “Bayard has.”
Bayard humphed. “It’s a business decision. The bank’s in Dallas, but Buffalo Creek is still home.”
“Uncle Murdock did and Aunt Dorinda,” Morgan went on. “I can name you a dozen others.”
“I am not the others,” Hub snapped. “I am the eldest Chatam, and the Chatams are Buffalo Creek. We have a responsibility to this town. Buffalo Creek is my home. My…” He paused then finished softly, “My ministry is here.”
“Was here,” Morgan said gently, “until you abandoned it.”
“I didn’t abandon it,” Hub argued. “Chatams do not abandon their callings.” He put a hand to his head. “It abandoned me really, though I prayed that God would take me before that happened.”
“Oh, Dad,” Kaylie said. “Why don’t you see that God still has use for you? Why else would he let you recover so well from your heart attack? And just think what that experience could mean to others in the same condition.”
He glanced around guiltily. “Who would listen to an old man whose best days are behind him?”
“I would,” Stephen said. “In fact, I—I have some questions that I need answered, if you don’t mind. Spiritual questions. Who better to ask than you?”
Hub’s eyes went very wide behind his glasses. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “I’m sure we’ll have some time to talk after lunch,” he muttered.
Kaylie smiled at that and laid her head on Stephen’s shoulder. “Thank You,” she whispered. “Oh, thank You. Thank You.”
Stephen did not assume that she was thanking him, but he would give her all the reason to do so that he could.
“As for leaving Buffalo Creek,” he said brightly, “I like it here. No reason we can’t find or build a house nearby.”
“Not the Netherlands?” Hub asked.
“Kind of a long commute to Fort Worth,” Stephen said.
“The Netherlands is for vacations. And honeymoons?” he whispered into Kaylie’s ear. She tightened her arm around his neck, so he added, “For starters. After that, I was thinking Italy.”
“And when were you thinking of taking this honeymoon?” she whispered back.
“I’ve always wanted to be a June bride,” he muttered, and she giggled.
“All right, enough of that,” Chandler ordered.
“Not from where I’m sitting,” Stephen retorted cheekily.
“Time enough for it later, then,” Bayard said, hoisting himself to the edge of the sofa. “When do we eat? I’m starved.”
That did it. Smiling broadly, Kaylie popped up and rushed toward the kitchen. “Morgan, add a plate to the table. Chandler, that salsa you like is in the refrigerator. Bayard, you’ll have to sweeten the tea yourself. Stephen…”
He grabbed his crutches and got to his feet. “Yes?”
She whirled around, smiling dreamily. “Just…Stephen.” With that she danced away, her brothers following. That left him alone with his future father-in-law, who got up and walked to his side. Stephen waited, and after a moment Hub spoke.
“I can’t approve of your occupation.”
Stephen quoted from that morning’s sermon. “‘Seek not the approval of man but
the approval of Him Who is above man, of God Himself.’ I think that’s what the pastor said.”
Hubner cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I expect you’ll grow on me.”
Stephen chuckled. “I expect I will.”
“Is that so?”
Stephen nodded. “Kaylie’s spoken to me about a personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ. I figured you would be the one to explain that to me.”
“I—” Hubner’s chin wobbled and his face softened. “Yes,” he said, thawing, “I would be the one.” He cleared his throat again. Sucking in a deep breath, he admitted, “I fear there are some things I need to get off my chest first.”
“I’ve been doing some of that myself,” Stephen told him. “Comforting process.”
“Yes,” Hubner agreed, clapping him on the shoulder and starting him toward the dining room. “Yes, it is. Maybe you can, ah, give me a better understanding of hockey later. One should have all the facts, after all.”
“Be glad to,” Stephen said. “Lately I’m all about promoting understanding in the family.”
“Family,” Hubner echoed, bowing his head. “I may be too proud of mine,” he admitted.
“Well,” Stephen allowed, “it seems to me that you have plenty to be proud of.” He glanced over his shoulder at the painting above the mantel. “Beautiful woman, Kaylie’s mother.”
Hubner’s gaze followed his. “Yes, she was.”
“Almost as beautiful as her daughter.”
Hubner smiled. It was reluctant. It was wan. It was the first sure sign of peace between them but not, Stephen felt sure, the last.
Chapter Fourteen
“Stevie baby!”
Stephen and Kaylie twisted in their seats to wave at Aaron and Dora Doolin.
They weren’t the first unexpected guests to stop by the VIP arena box that night. The infamous Cherie and a small coterie of seductively clad “ice bunnies” had flounced in earlier—and then right out again upon Stephen’s formal announcement of their engagement. Stephen had seemed sheepishly amused. Kaylie had looked at the ring on her finger and smiled to herself, confident in her beloved and the God Who had brought him to her.
Beaming megawatt smiles, the Doolins plunged into the milling throng of Chatams, paramedics and friends helping themselves to the buffet provided by the arena caterer. Beside Stephen and Kaylie, the aunts, too, greeted the newcomers. Odelia, decked out in the team colors of maroon and yellow-gold, waved her hanky at them, the garish walnut-sized garnets on her earlobes sparkling like disco balls. Hypatia, in pearls and pumps, granted them a regal nod, but Aunt Mags, dowdy as ever, barely glanced their way before turning back to the action on the rink, if the Zamboni reconditioning the ice could be called action.
After two periods, the Blades were trailing in the make-it-or-break-it seventh game of the series, but Stephen seemed to have recently turned philosophical about the outcome and his part in it. Or lack of part in it, if the team so decided. He was through hiding like a guilty child, he’d said. A soon-to-be-married man had to learn to face his failures and responsibilities—and leave the rest to God.
For that reason, he’d met with team management and explained himself as fully as possible, vowing never to drink again. He had also invited his father here tonight, at Kaylie’s urging. George Gallow hadn’t even replied, but at least, Kaylie told herself, Stephen had made the effort. She was terribly proud of him.
Aaron made his way to the front of the box, towing Dora behind. When they reached the double row of seats overlooking the ice, however, it was Dora who spoke first.
“Lemme see! Lemme see!” Grabbing Kaylie’s hand from Stephen’s, she gasped at the elegantly simple two-carat, marquis-cut diamond on Kaylie’s dainty finger. “Ooh, classic. I’m so happy for you.” She smacked Stephen on the cheek, adding, “I’m happier for you.”
“Thanks.” He and Aaron shook hands, Stephen saying, “I thought you were hobnobbing with team management tonight.”
“Oh, yeah, and brother are you going to be happy when you hear my news.” Aaron bounced on the pads of his feet.
“What news?”
Aaron leaned close and muttered in a voice audible by everyone in the suite, “Kapimsky’s going to Canada.”
“No kidding!”
“They’re rebuilding up there and need a hotshot young goalie to get ’em into the playoffs.” He pounded Stephen on the shoulder and, grinning, added, “They wanted you, but the team won’t let you go.”
Stephen closed his eyes, hugging Kaylie tight with his right arm. Stephen sighed as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. He brought his hand around and clapped palms with Aaron. “Thanks, man. That’s a great wedding present.”
“Speaking of presents, the team’s got something for you. Will you come down to the locker room right after the game and bring the better half with you?”
Stephen uneasily shifted in his seat, his cast knocking against the half wall at the edge of the box. “I don’t know. It would mean running the press gauntlet, and Kaylie may not be ready for that.”
“We’ll be there,” she said confidently, and Stephen’s arm tightened.
“Thanks, babe,” he whispered.
Half an hour later, it was all over. The team had lost by a single point, their opponents advancing on to the finals, but no one could expect them to hang their heads. They’d come a long way fast, and the future looked bright. Kaylie and Stephen rose to make their way downstairs, taking their leave of the family with kisses and pats and handclasps.
Hubner came over to squeeze Stephen’s shoulder and say, “Next year, son. Next year.”
Smiling, Stephen nodded. Kaylie knew that her father would never be a hockey fan, but he showed signs of becoming a Stephen fan, and that was what counted most.
Aaron returned to run interference for the happy couple, keeping the press from eating them alive and checking the locker room to make sure that everyone was still decent before ushering them inside. Stephen paused, his weight balanced on his crutches. Kaylie’s slipped her hand supportively into the curve of his elbow. Instantly, they were swamped by sweaty skaters speaking half a dozen different languages. The team captain called for order and got it.
“These are yours, man,” he said to Stephen, producing three battered pucks. “One for every game we won in this series.”
Stephen shook his head. “No, I can’t. Kapimsky should get those. He—”
Kapimsky stepped forward. “You got us here, dude, and you gave me my shot. Those pucks are yours.”
Kaylie beamed as the two shook hands, and Stephen congratulated Kapimsky on his new contract.
“Next year, all the way!” someone called.
A cheer went up. After it died down, Stephen made introductions. The men congratulated him and joked with Kaylie about being the team nurse.
“Well, I have specialized in pediatrics,” she quipped. “That ought to qualify me for the position.”
Stephen laughed with everyone else. They stayed a few moments longer, then got out so the guys could strip and shower. Monday morning, Stephen said, they’d start cleaning out their lockers, the season finally having come to a close. He seemed at peace with that.
Aaron pocketed his phone, saying, “I called your car around. Head on out back. They’ll be waiting for you.”
Stephen had hired a series of limos to ferry the family to and from the game so no one would have to worry about getting lost or finding a decent parking place. He passed the hockey pucks to Kaylie, saying, “Can you hold these for me, babe?”
She dropped them into her purse. “I can’t imagine they’ll be the only ones.”
“Let’s hope not!” Aaron quipped. “I’ll pick them up later and get them into the display case.”
The case had been moved to Aaron’s office for safekeeping while Stephen’s Fort Worth house was being repaired and put on the market. He and Kaylie, meanwhile, had an appointment with an architect for the following week and were already shopping f
or a small acreage near Buffalo Creek to build on, as well as a house to rent in the meanwhile.
By the time they reached the car, she could tell that Stephen was tired but pleased. He stood back to let Kaylie slide into the long black vehicle through the door held open by the driver, but a voice from the shadows near the arena stopped her.
“Steve.”
He turned so quickly that he almost fell. Kaylie’s hand flashed out to steady him, but it was another that set him to rights, a big square hand thickened with maturity and hard work.
“Dad!”
George Gallow backed away a step. Shadows carved hollows in the cheeks and eye sockets beneath the hat that he wore, but the resemblance to his son was marked. Tall and lanky with feet and hands the size of small boats, he was a large, vibrant, if quiet, presence.
“I didn’t think you’d be here!” Stephen exclaimed. “Why didn’t you come up to the suite?”
George shrugged. “You know me, not much for crowds.”
Kaylie moved up close to Stephen. He reached back for her, pulling her forward.
“So this is the one, huh?” George said.
“This is the one,” Stephen confirmed.
George swept off his hat, smoothed his dark blond hair with his hand and nodded. “Pleased to meet you.”
Impulsively, Kaylie stepped up and hugged him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too. Thank you for coming.”
He didn’t lift a hand to return the embrace, but he didn’t back away, either. “Mmm,” he said, “not the first time. Don’t s’pose it’ll be the last.”
“You’ve been here before?” Stephen asked, clearly shocked.
“Time or two.”
“Why didn’t you let me know?”
“Wasn’t sure you wanted to see me.”
“Dad,” Stephen said, sounding exasperated, “I’ve always wanted to see you. I just…I didn’t know how…”
George Gallow nodded his understanding. “Okay. It’s okay, son.”
“I haven’t done a very good job of letting you in, have I? I’m sorry for that.”