Baby Makes a Match

by Arlene James

  Now, suddenly, Chandler heard his father’s long-ago words with a different ear and applied that new interpretation to his meeting Bethany.

  If Kreger had flown in to compete as they’d planned, he’d have been riding with Chandler back to Buffalo Creek. They wouldn’t have left for home early that morning because Pat never hauled himself out of bed before he had to, which meant they’d have stopped for dinner long before they’d have reached that little diner. The only reasonable conclusion was that Chandler would have missed Bethany completely if things had gone as he had planned. No telling where she’d have wound up then.

  A fresh chill ran up his spine, and he found himself wholly identifying with Garrett’s impulses. If Bethany was his sister… But she was not his sister. She was, instead, a very attractive, single woman. A single expectant mother, he reminded himself.

  No, Chandler didn’t blame Garrett for wanting to pound someone.

  His ears perked up when Magnolia asked Bethany if she still intended to look for a job. Putting aside his thoughts, he listened to Bethany reply, “As quickly as possible.”

  “Sis, do you really think anyone is going to hire a woman as pregnant as you are?” Garrett asked, looking down at her.

  Bethany sighed but otherwise did not answer.

  “It is a problem,” Hypatia agreed gently.

  “I can’t just live off your generosity and my brother’s until the baby comes,” Bethany pointed out.

  Chandler surprised himself by speaking the instant the thought entered his mind.

  “Dad might be willing to hire her.”

  Five pairs of eyes turned to him. Well, it only seemed logical. In fact, he was surprised that his aunts hadn’t thought of it themselves. He cleared his throat and said, “Dad is about to open the new Single Parents Ministry to the public, isn’t he?”

  Hypatia brightened. “That’s right. He’s been talking about hiring a receptionist.”

  “That would be perfect,” Bethany said, sitting forward. “What do they do there?”

  “Offer parenting classes, support groups, Bible studies,” Hypatia said. “They’ve also put together a panel of advisers, attorneys, mental health professionals, charities, anyone who can help lighten the load of a single parent.”

  “It sounds wonderful!” Bethany gushed.

  “It’s part-time, so the pay wouldn’t be much,” Magnolia warned.

  “Still, it’s something,” Bethany pointed out.

  “And of course you’ll stay here until after the baby comes and you’re on your feet again,” Odelia put in.

  For the second time that morning, Chandler watched Bethany’s eyes fill with tears. She reached a hand up to her brother, who pressed her fingers with his, smiling.

  “Looks like God brought both of us to the right place,” she noted in a shaky voice.

  “You’d think I’d learn to let Him handle things, wouldn’t you?” Garrett said with a guilty glance in Chandler’s direction.

  Bethany chuckled and wiped tears from her cheeks. “That’s something I guess we both have to work on.”

  Watching those slender fingertips swipe at the moisture on her ivory cheeks, Chandler felt a lump rise in his own throat and shifted uncomfortably. He realized suddenly that it was past time for him to be about his own business, even if he was tired due to lack of sleep. That, he told himself stoutly, was what was behind this sudden emotionalism, surely.

  “How soon do you think I can speak to your father about the job?” Bethany asked him.

  Chandler opened his mouth, but Hypatia spoke first.

  “Chandler, dear,” she said, “might you take Bethany to meet your father Monday?”

  “Me?”

  “That will give us time to speak to Hubner about it beforehand,” Hypatia said to Bethany.

  “Grease the skids, in other words,” Garrett said wryly.

  Magnolia laughed and quipped, “I’ll get out the oil can.”

  Meanwhile, Hypatia answered Chandler. “Of course you, dear. You’re the perfect person to do it.”

  Chandler flung a hand at Garrett. “Why not him?”

  “On the back of my motorcyle?” Garrett retorted, shaking his head. “Not in her condition.”

  “And Chester is busy,” Odelia informed him helpfully, “especially Monday. It’s Hilda’s shopping day, you know.”

  The aunties themselves did not drive. Chandler thought of his appointment with his cousin, the attorney, on Monday and a hundred and one other things he needed to get done as quickly as possible, but he knew that he had to do this. Talking to his dad about a job had been his idea in the first place, and Bethany was not getting on the back of that motorcycle if he could prevent it.

  “Yeah, okay, fine,” he said with less grace than he might have. “Now if that’s settled, I’m going to move most of my stuff into the attic.”

  “You’re moving in here?” Garrett asked, his brows drawing together.

  Chandler rose. “Yeah. You have a problem with that?”

  “No, of course not. Just surprised.”

  “That makes two of us,” Chandler muttered. He purposefully did not look at Bethany, but turned to dispense kisses to the papery cool cheeks of his aunties, thanking them for their hospitality.

  “Don’t worry,” Hypatia said, beaming a smile, “It’s a very big house.”

  “The east suite should suit,” Magnolia began, but Chandler waved that away.

  “Naw, I’ll just take one of the big bedrooms.”

  “In that case,” Odelia chirped, “perhaps the room behind the attic stairs? It has a window and is convenient to the attic.”

  Chandler shrugged. “Fine with me.”

  “Perfect!” Odelia exclaimed, clapping her hands. “That’s right next to the master suite where Bethany and Garrett are staying.”

  Chandler raised his eyebrows. Evidently, the aunties were going all out in their support of the Willows siblings. Well, it was no skin off his nose, especially when they were willing to house him, too. But not for long, God willing, not for long. In fact, with single, pretty Bethany in residence, the sooner he got his business in order and moved out of Chatam House, the better.

  It was all he could do to keep from looking at her one more time before he stepped out into the corridor and strode toward the library.

  “I’ll give you a hand.”

  Chandler glanced over his shoulder at Bethany’s brother.

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “No, I insist.”

  O-o-o-kay, Chandler thought, wondering if Garrett was about to warn him away from his sister. Not that Garrett had anything to worry about. The very last thing Chandler needed in his life right now was a woman, especially a pregnant woman.

  “Your breakfast will be waiting in the kitchen when you’re done,” Hypatia called.

  Chandler brightened, thinking of Hilda’s excellent cooking. “A ray of light in an otherwise dim world,” he retorted drolly.

  “If that means Hilda’s cooking is the best, I couldn’t agree more,” Garrett said, lengthening his stride to bring himself even with Chandler.

  Chandler shook his head. “First you try to beat me down and then you jump over into the amen corner.”

  “For the record,” Garrett retorted, keeping pace with Chandler, “I did beat you down.”

  “In your dreams, brother.”

  “I’m not your brother.”

  Chandler snorted. “You could be. Neither of them can throw a decent punch, either.”

  “Now you’ve gone from dreaming to sheer insanity,” Garrett said drily, and for some reason they were both suddenly grinning. “You handle yourself pretty well, too, though.”

  “Thanks,” Chandler drawled.

  “So where’d you learn to fight like that, anyway?”

  “I rodeo for a living,” Chandler replied. “There’s always some drunk cowboy wanting to take you down a peg.” The truth was that he hadn’t been in a real fight in ages, but early on the occ
asional fracas into which Kreger had dragged him had almost seemed, well, fun. “How about you?”

  Garrett paused just outside the library door and met Chandler’s gaze. “Prison,” he answered grimly.

  Chandler rocked back. “Yeah? How come?”

  Garrett sighed. “Like I said, I’ve been known to be a little overprotective of the women in my family.”

  “Do my aunts know about this?”

  “Absolutely. I just thought you should know, too.”

  Chandler folded his arms. “Suppose you clue me in, then.”

  “Okay, but let’s do it while we’re working. Breakfast is calling me.”

  Chandler could find no argument against that, and later, having heard the full story, he could find no quarrel with Garrett’s presence in the household, either. In fact, in his opinion, though he didn’t know Bethany’s story, the Willows siblings appeared to have gotten a pretty raw deal in life so far.

  “God allows nothing into our lives without a reason,” whispered his father’s voice then, and right behind it came Hypatia’s. “Do you not realize that for God’s children, there are no coincidences? Only plans.”

  Chandler supposed that one’s actions and decisions played into what God allowed and planned for a believer. Everyone had free will, after all. Still, a loving, omniscient God could be trusted to have reasons and plans, which meant that whatever was going on with him now, God had allowed for His own purposes. Chandler believed that those purposes would ultimately work for his benefit, for God did not curse his own children; He blessed them. Chandler knew that his life had been greatly blessed, especially compared to the lives of Garrett and Bethany Willows.

  As he sat down with Garrett at the battered table in the warm, spacious kitchen to eat Hilda’s fluffy scrambled eggs and crisp bacon, his situation suddenly looked a lot better than it had only last night, and Chandler determined to move forward prayerfully. With that in mind, he took the time to give silent thanks.

  For this food and all the blessings in my life, Lord, I give You thanks, especially for the fresh perspective. Guess I needed that, and whatever else You will also surely provide. Seems like I forgot that. I’m sorry. Won’t happen again. But if You could speed things up so I can get out on my own again, I’d sure appreciate it. He chuckled. And a little patience on my part wouldn’t hurt, either.

  When he looked up, he found Garrett Willows watching him. Chandler smiled. “Trying to turn over a new leaf.”

  Garrett arched a dark eyebrow at that, muttering, “Lot of that going on here.”

  Chandler glanced around the homey, old-fashioned, redbrick and stainless-steel kitchen. Where better to get a fresh start, he asked himself, than here at Chatam House?

  Now if only he could find a new partner and win some money… That, too, he decided he would leave in God’s hands. Surely, with a little prayer and patience, it would all work out. After all, for God’s children, there were no coincidences, only plans. And God’s plans, he finally realized, had to be far superior to his own.

  They could hardly be worse!

  Fitting his left boot into the stirrup, Chandler grasped the horn with his left hand and swung up into the saddle. He shook out his loop. Sensing that they were about to go to work, the big bay, named Red Rover, danced until Chandler reined him to a standstill.

  A good night’s rest had cleared Chandler’s mind. He’d spent the previous day making phone calls and settling into his room. Immediately after an excellent dinner, he’d turned in, as much to escape Bethany’s unsettling presence as to be well rested for today’s activity. She was a complication he didn’t need, and now she was there in the house with him. Sure, it was a big house. He just hoped it was big enough. He needed all of his concentration if he was going to make this work; his very future depended on it.

  He’d been surprised and pleased yesterday to find that Drew Shaw, a saddle bronc rider and one the finest heelers that rodeo had ever known, was on the lookout for a new partner, his previous header having retired. Chandler had eagerly made this appointment and driven to Stephenville, some two hours east of Buffalo Creek, and this modest private arena on the edge of town. This, he mused, might be the most important Saturday morning of his entire career.

  Feeling as nervous as the quivering horse, he backed the big bay into place. They had been practicing for nearly an hour now, but this would be for time. Drew and his mount, a beautiful chestnut sorrel, already waited in their box. Chandler looked at Drew, who sat poised with lasso in hand, and signaled the chute man.

  An instant later, the yearling steer shot past. The penalty line broke from the steer’s neck and the barrier rope dropped away. Chandler spurred the bay, who leaped into action, instantly matching stride with the steer. Operating on practice and instinct, Chandler felt the loop leave his hand, saw it drop around the steer’s horns. Perhaps two seconds later, Drew threw down his own loop and closed it. Chandler turned his bay, and in a blink, the steer was immobilized.

  “Time!” shouted Drew’s wife, Cindy.

  She stood on the second-from-the-bottom rung of the metal-rod arena fence, her belly protruding between rods, a stopwatch in one hand. Chandler had been secretly amused to arrive and find the statuesque blonde pregnant. Seemed like pregnant women were becoming the norm in his life. Maybe he should’ve brought Bethany along today. She might have enjoyed the outing.

  Then again, maybe not. The last thing he needed just now was a distraction, and Bethany Willows was proving to be just that. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her, wondering why God had placed her in his path that day.

  Drew loosed the steer, coiled his rope and rode over to the fence to take a look at the stopwatch. He then turned and rode toward Chandler, who hung his coiled rope on the saddle horn. A smile split Drew’s round, freckled face.

  “Pretty good. Let’s take three or four runs at it and get an average. What do you say?”

  “Sure thing.”

  After another hour, they called a halt, walking their horses to cool them down. As Chandler took care of his bay, he ran over the morning’s work in his mind. In all honesty, Drew’s technique was technically perfect but not nearly as showy as Kreger’s. Chandler missed that flamboyance and enthusiasm, but he was smart enough to know that Drew’s businesslike approach could be the competitive edge that would put them on top as a team. Drew, in fact, was not the one whose skills were on trial here.

  Lord, he prayed silently, as he strolled over to Drew’s rig, let me measure up.

  “So what do you think?” he asked. His heart was beating like a big brass drum.

  Leaning against the fender of his pristine, late-model dualie, Drew removed his pale straw hat, revealing thin, light brown hair, and refit it to his head. His wife stood next to him, her arms folded. Just a few inches shorter than Drew, she wore a T-shirt that didn’t quite cover the elastic inset in her jeans and big, white-framed sunshades, her streaky gold hair pulled back into a short ponytail.

  “Looks like we might fit,” Drew said.

  “In the arena, anyway,” Cindy put in.

  Chandler said nothing to that, knowing that it had portent he didn’t quite understand. Drew’s pleasant expression never altered, but the pale hazel eyes that met Chandler’s were blatantly measuring. “We’re not party folk,” he said. “We don’t go to the bars and lay out at night.”

  “I don’t, either,” Chandler told him, “not as a habit.”

  “That’s not what we heard,” Cindy said bluntly.

  Chandler felt his stomach drop. It was true that he’d waded through more than his fair share of dives, but only to haul Kreger out of one jamb or another. He wouldn’t use Pat as an excuse, though. In all truth, he had chosen to become Pat Kreger’s keeper, and now he was paying for it.

  “I don’t know what you’ve heard,” he said, “but frankly I’ll be happy if I never have to walk into another bar.”

  A long look passed between husband and wife before Drew nodded at Chandler and s
aid, “We’ll pray on it and get back to you.”

  A relieved smile pushed up from Chandler’s chest. “And I’ll do the same. Can’t make a mistake that way, can we?”

  “Not if we’re letting the Lord lead,” Drew said with a grin. The two men shook hands, and Chandler took his leave.

  “Okay, Lord,” he said from behind the wheel of his truck as he headed back to Buffalo Creek, “it’s all up to You now. If nothing else, You’ve shown me a better way of doing things, and I can see that I need to make some adjustments.”

  He’d start with regularly attending worship services, he decided. He often attended Cowboy Church when he was competing, but not every rodeo boasted a Cowboy Church pastor. On those weekends when he was home, he avoided church. More accurately, he avoided his father by staying home, but he knew that had to change, starting tomorrow.

  The thought flitted through his mind that at some point he’d have to choke down his pride and admit to his dad that he was right about Kreger, but Chandler let that notion go on its way. He had enough to think about already. More than enough. If one of the things occupying his mind lately was pretty, dark-haired and pregnant, well, better her than his ongoing battle with his father. Wasn’t like he had much choice about it, anyway. She was in his head whether he wanted her to be or not.

  “Garrett? Bethany? Are you riding with us?”

  Magnolia’s voice came to Chandler through his bedroom door. Mechanically looping his tie and fashioning a knot, he wandered over and shouldered the door open. Magnolia stood in front of the sitting room of the master suite. Bethany appeared from inside, holding closed her faded cotton bathrobe at the throat. It would not close over her distended belly or the knit shorts and top that she wore beneath it. She smiled sleepily at Magnolia.

  “Good morning. Garrett’s already gone down.”

  “Bethany,” Magnolia said, “you’re not dressed. Aren’t you going to church, dear?”

  “Oh, I—I’m moving slowly this morning,” she answered, shrugging.