He nearly missed the cue to change music for the processional. The door at the back opened. He caught his breath and his fingers froze on the strings.
Chelsea stood at the back of the church in a silky-looking black dress that hugged her curves, a multi-colored bouquet in her hands. The swooping hem of her dress exposed daringly high black heels. Her curls lay mounded on top of her head with tendrils trailing down her exposed neck. She took a step down the aisle then another, her blue eyes, so clearly visible behind her pink frames, fixed on him.
She looked sensational.
Somehow Keanan’s fingers remembered the music they were supposed to be playing. He felt the strings and heard the chords as from another dimension.
Chelsea. She took his breath away with every step toward him.
At the front of the church, she turned toward center. Away from him. A cloud came across the sun. Beyond her, Noel caught his eye with a grin.
Keanan blinked and time resumed. If Noel had noticed his reaction, others might have. But a quick glance at the gathering showed everyone rising and turning to the back once again.
Allison stood alone, radiant in white, carrying a bouquet even larger than Chelsea’s. She began her walk down the long aisle.
Keanan snuck a glance at Brent, where young Finnley pulled at his father’s hand to no avail. Had Keanan’s face expressed as much for Chelsea as Brent’s did for Allison? For everyone’s sake, he hoped not.
The love Brent had for his bride glowed.
One day Keanan would stand at the front of this church — or maybe the pole barn out at the farm — and watch Chelsea float toward him. Not as accessories to their friends’ wedding, but for their own.
Where would he take Chelsea? Where would they go to learn to know each other with nothing between them?
Maybe it was just as well she didn’t have a passport and couldn’t come to Africa with him on Monday. How would he ever focus on his work with her nearby yet unattainable? As it was, he’d be counting the days until his return. He’d ask Mother to create the most spectacular engagement ring on the planet. Something worthy of Chelsea’s beauty. Something that showed how precious she was to him. When he returned, he’d offer it to her on bended knee, swearing to protect her forever like a knight his princess. And then a celebration of vows like this one.
Keanan brought the wedding party back into focus. His view was mostly of Chelsea’s back. The black neckline scooped, exposing her sweet neck and the strand of pearls that surrounded it.
He was vaguely aware of Pastor Ron’s words on the beauty and sanctity of marriage. Could Brent and Allison focus on the words if even he couldn’t? Keanan tried again. God knew he hoped to need this wisdom himself in the next few months, but it was like Chelsea’s shapely form blocked the words, little more than a distant buzz, from getting to his ears.
Pastor Ron glanced his way, and Keanan froze for a second before remembering he was to sing a special number here. Another instant of panic ensued before he glanced at his stand and saw the title and tabs. He nodded to the musicians beside him as he mentally counted out the beats until the music began.
The Wedding Song by Peter, Paul, and Mary had been around for decades. He’d known it all his life, but never had the words meant more to him than now as he sang for Brent and Allison. Oh, who was he kidding? He was singing to Chelsea.
She angled toward him, the flowers in her hands trembling. She filled his vision, leaving little room for him to see the wedding party beyond her. He didn’t want to see them, anyway. He poured out his heart to her with the words of the song. There is love.
A few minutes later Brent and Allison said their vows and exchanged the rings that young Finnley offered them. Finally Pastor Ron said the magic words Keanan knew he’d be longing to hear when it was his turn. “You may kiss your bride.”
As Brent gathered Allison in his arms, Keanan could only see Chelsea’s face from the few times they’d kissed. At this moment, Brent placed his seal on the woman he loved, publicly claiming her as his own. The time would come when he’d do that with Chelsea. He knew it. Felt it deep in his being.
* * *
The wedding and reception had been long and distracting. Chelsea only had one more day with Keanan before he left. She didn’t want to spend hours upon hours smiling and nodding at Ed Graysen and his wife and hearing, once again, how grateful they were that she’d stepped up to coordinate meals for the fall’s Alpha program. With Keanan leaving, she couldn’t think of doing it again.
Chelsea could hardly think of anything. She loved the man, beyond a doubt. She could put those three months to good use digging into God’s love. With any luck, she’d have it all figured out — if that were even possible without his daily guidance — by the time he got back.
If he returned at all. Wasn’t the mission field overrun with single women missionaries? One of them would surely see the gold he was, snap him up, and he’d stay there. Or he’d see some sort of need elsewhere and hurry off to help. A good guy, Keanan. A rare and precious gem. But not the kind of man she’d always dreamed of marrying.
Robert had been that kind of man except he didn’t make her heart do somersaults. How important were those, anyway?
Yeah, she knew. She could never settle for like and mutual respect, now that she’d experienced Keanan’s toe-tingling kisses, all the more precious for waiting so long for them. But could she trust him so far away?
She blinked.
He stood in front of her, warmth emanating from his gorgeous green eyes. “Ready to head back to the farm?”
Chelsea glanced around. Everything seemed under control. Allison and Brent had whisked away to the airport already, leaving Finnley with Claire and Noel. Cleanup was underway. As maid-of-honor, she wasn’t expected to help with that. She took in a long breath and let it out. “Yes. I’d love to.”
“Let me get your coat.”
She slipped off her heels and jammed them into the top of her large handbag before reaching for her winter boots. No snow yet, but it was imminent. Maybe even tonight.
A moment later Keanan returned and held the coat while she slipped her arms down the sleeves. He arranged the collar around her neck with a gentle touch before reaching around her and clasping both her hands in his from behind.
Safe. She leaned back against his chest with a sigh. When he was near, like this, she could believe anything was possible. But three months apart? What would that do to them?
Chelsea straightened, pulling away from him, and his hands immediately dropped. He could read her better than she could herself sometimes. That was a little scary.
She smiled up at him and dug her car keys out. “Want to drive?”
“Sure.” Their eyes caught for a long moment then he touched his hand to her back, nudging her toward the door.
“See you at home!” hollered Sierra as she carried a stack of plates past them.
Chelsea waved and allowed Keanan to steer her out into the icy night air, the small of her back tingling with his touch even through her heavy coat.
He tucked her into the passenger seat, rounded the car, and slid in beside her. “I should have come out a few minutes ago and warmed the vehicle. I’m sorry it’s so cold for you.”
“It’s okay. We’ll be back at the farm in five minutes. I won’t freeze to death in that short a time.”
A moment later they were on the road. He glanced over at her. “You are so beautiful in that dress.”
Who needed heat coming from the car vents with praise like that? “Thank you. They say every woman needs a little black dress. Now I have one.”
“I wouldn’t have thought black would do so much for you. You’re made for vibrant color.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. What could a woman say to such blatant flattery? Besides the most polite. “Thanks.”
“I mean it, Chelsea.” Keanan reached across the console and laid his large gloved hand over both of hers. His voice lowered. “You are so beautiful.”
<
br /> She couldn’t keep thanking him, so she stared down at his hand in her lap until he removed it to navigate a tight corner. She felt chilled where his touch left. Just like her spirit already chilled knowing he was leaving soon.
Keanan parked in front of the duplex and came around to get her car door.
Never mind her melancholy thoughts. She’d try to enjoy the remaining time with him, hoping it would be enough to tide them both over until spring. “Want to come in for a few minutes? I’ll put on a pot of tea.”
He took her hand. “I’d love to.”
She changed into jeans and a long-sleeved sweater and re-entered the main room of the duplex to see Keanan in the kitchen turning on the kettle. He’d shrugged out of his suit jacket and removed his tie. Now he glanced over at her in the doorway and his slow smile lit his face. “Feel better?”
“Much. Thanks for starting the tea. You didn’t have to.”
He lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “And why not?”
Was it too much to dream of a future in which they puttered around the little kitchen together? Her generic kitchen morphed into the one in the grain bin in her mind’s eye. His had way more style than hers.
Chelsea entered the kitchen and opened the cupboard where she kept tins of tea. “What would you like?”
He moved in behind her, wrapping both arms around her. “Whatever you want.” He nuzzled into her neck.
Her emotions skittered. She shouldn’t have invited him in. No, he’d never take advantage of the situation, but... temptation. Chelsea twisted in his arms until she faced him then cradled his precious face between her hands. “Oh, Keanan.”
He dipped his head and kissed her, gently at first, then more insistently.
She was starving for this man. Chelsea tangled her fingers in his unruly hair and held his head close to hers while she responded to his lips with her own.
The kettle whistled and they pulled apart, gazes locking. The green of Keanan’s eyes deepened as he reached over and snapped the element off before slipping her glasses off and setting them on the counter behind her. “Chelsea.” He bent again and swept his lips across her mouth, her cheeks, her throat. Her eyelids.
How could she stay upright? If it weren’t for the countertop against her hips and Keanan’s strong hands holding her up, she’d dissolve into a puddle of goo on the floor.
At last Keanan’s forehead rested against hers, his aftershave and minty breath continuing to tease her senses.
She clutched his neck with both hands. “Keanan, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
His voice caught. “Africa?”
Chelsea nodded. She hadn’t meant right now. Tonight. Well, maybe she had, a little, but surely some sense of propriety would have intervened.
“I have to go, sweetheart.” He brushed his cheek across hers. “But I’ll come back before spring.”
“That’s so long.” Tears welled.
He kissed them away. “I know. It will seem like eternity.”
“Don’t go.” She captured his lips with hers, pouring all her emotion into the kiss. “They don’t need you as much as I do.” Had she really whispered those words?
“They need me in a different way.” His hands tightened around her. Was that even possible? “Not like this.” He kissed her, deeply, slowly, possessively.
The tears wouldn’t stop now they’d started. It must be the emotion of Allison and Brent’s wedding mixed with the adoration on Keanan’s face as she’d walked down the aisle at the church. The thoughts of losing him now, when she’d only just found him, tore her to pieces.
“Sweetheart, don’t cry. We’ll email often. We can Skype. We won’t lose each other.” He hesitated. “When I return, we can make plans for our future together.”
Did he mean what she thought he meant? She buried her face against his chest, feeling the dampness spread on his white shirt.
He rested his cheek against the top of her curls.
The tears came faster now. Huge hiccupping sobs couldn’t be far behind. She’d look a mess, all red-faced and blotchy. Why didn’t he just leave her to her misery, if he was so bent on going? Why the gentle words, the caressing touch?
Chelsea pushed him away and lunged for the box of tissues on her kitchen table. Empty. Hadn’t she bought another one? Where was it? Her mind was befuddled from Keanan’s presence and so much emotion. Clogged with more tears than those already gushing forth.
Her bag. She had a travel-size pack of tissues in there. The irony of travel-size. She grabbed at her purse but, without her glasses, couldn’t see clearly. Or maybe it was the tears. Either way, groping didn’t seem to reveal the package she knew was inside.
She dumped the contents out on the table. The tissues lay under her wallet in the jumble of makeup, receipts, keys, electronic devices, and more. She slit the plastic with a fingernail, tugged out a tissue, and turned aside to blow her nose.
“What is this, Chelsea?” Keanan’s voice had lost the warmth of only seconds before.
Chapter 28
Chelsea turned, squinting at him. Where were her glasses, anyway?
Keanan stood beside the table, holding up a small black square with gold embossing.
Chelsea stared at him, her mouth hanging open.
“Why did you lie about having a passport?”
Her mind scrambled to catch up. “I — uh...” She pushed past him into the kitchen and shoved her glasses onto her face with shaking hands. Turning to face him was a mistake. Being able to see him clearly was a bigger mistake.
Keanan stood rigid by the table, still holding her papers. His jaw clenched. His lips a thin line. He met her gaze with glacial green eyes. “Well?”
“I-I didn’t lie.” Her chin rose. “You didn’t ask.”
“We talked about passports.”
“You talked about them. You assumed I didn’t have one, even though I said I’d been to Mexico and Belize. You didn’t ask.”
“You knew what I meant and didn’t correct me.” Keanan slapped the booklet against the table with a resounding smack. “What else is a lie that I thought was true?”
Chelsea took a step closer, drawn toward him like a magnet, but both his hands came up to ward her off.
“Those questions about God’s love? Just to gain my sympathy? My-my love?”
“What? No!” A great sob surged up her throat. “Never. It was all real. Everything.”
“Except for the passport? Why didn’t you just say so, Chelsea?”
“I didn’t want to go to Africa. I still don’t. We’ve made a home here.” She choked on the words. “Or at least I have. I don’t know what you want.”
“My only desire is to do what God wants of me.”
There was no turning off the tears now. They flowed like twin rivers down her face, dripping from her chin, more than a tissue could hope to stem. She swiped her face with her sleeve.
“I thought you’d come to seek God’s will, too.” His voice quieter, more resigned.
“Of course, I do. But that’s here.” She drew in a deep, gulping breath. “You told me yourself God led you to Green Acres.”
“And you think God’s plans for us are that simple? A one-time map with no complexity to it?” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re a planner. All you have to do is decide where the event will be held, and that’s all there is to it?”
“N-no.”
“We can’t put God in a box, Chelsea. We can’t say He’ll only tell us one thing is His will for us. Why can’t I make my home here and still go to Africa? How are those counter-inclusive?”
She bit her lip. Keanan made altogether too much sense. “Maybe God doesn’t want me to go to Africa.” She could only hope she’d been right in that at least.
Keanan angled his head to one side, his eyebrows rising. “Did you ask Him?”
Chelsea let out a long, shuddering breath. “No. But why would He?”
“I don’t presume to know. Maybe He just wants you to be will
ing, but you’re not. You’re still stuck in Chelsea Land, where if it’s good for you, it’s good for the universe. And to think—” He shook his head and reached for his jacket.
“Don’t go...” The words whispered out of her without conscious thought.
He zipped up his jacket. “I’m really sorry it ended this way. When I think how close I came to asking you...” He turned for the door.
Her heart squeezed painfully. “To ask what, Keanan?”
Keanan paused, staring at his hand on the knob. “I thought we’d built a relationship on trust. On mutual love and respect. I never dreamed this would happen.”
“All because I didn’t tell you I had a passport?” She walked toward him, half expecting him to run, or at least wince, but he stayed rigid. “You’re giving up on us because of that one little thing?”
He glanced at her then away, eyes dark. Shining. Tears there, too, big guy?
Chelsea rested her fingers on his arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“What are you truly sorry about?” He stared down at her hand.
“Because—” What kind of ridiculous question was that? “I didn’t realize it would be such a big deal to you.”
“Chelsea. At this moment I’m not sure if I love you or the person I thought you were. Please forgive me. It’s not my intention to hurt you. I need to go home and think and pray. Maybe I, too, have been guilty of assuming God would fall in line with my hopes and plans. My dreams.”
“D-dreams?”
Keanan’s eyes were so dark no hint of green remained visible. “Today all I could think of was you in a white dress, not a black one. Coming toward me down the aisle of the church as you did today, only I was not the musician but the man standing beside Pastor Ron awaiting his bride.”
“Th-that’s what I was thinking about, too.” She slid her hand down his arm and caught at his fingers. Had she ruined everything, or could he see her remorse? “I’m sorry. Really, I am.”
Keanan shifted out of reach. “Goodnight, Chelsea. Let’s both ask God for healing. For restoration. It’s up to Him now.”
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