On 4/19 (On 4/19 and Beyond 4/20)

by Lisa Heaton

  The lyrics of the song were about a beautiful ending, and the emotion in her voice moved him nearly to tears. Motionless, he sat listening to her, watching her, certain there was no sweeter sound in all the world than what he was hearing. She was the most genuine, kind, and thoughtful woman he’d ever met. Never had he reason to wonder why she was the way she was. He knew that it was her faith that made her all those things. It was what she felt for God that made her so nearly perfect.

  At that moment, while she played, he recalled how he had recently considered her kindness a fault. Nothing was further from the truth. The day of the staff meeting, the passion with which she shared the need that would be met by their service caused everyone in the room to want to participate. Certainly, she would never be a shark, but the business world had plenty of them. What she was made for was exactly what she wanted to do—change the world. He found it difficult to believe she’d ever truly enter the business world. He had a sense she would work for God. It was what best suited her.

  By the time the song ended, he could hardly swallow for the lump in his throat. She walked toward him smiling, and just as she was that Sunday in Sydney, she was glad to have him sitting in a pew. He knew how Christians thought. Without question, she was hoping he would hear something that would cause him to engage. Part of him hoped the same thing. After so many years away from attending church, he knew he was saved. Never once had he questioned that. Even when he was at his worst after Tracy died, that season when he was with one woman after another, he could hardly function most of the time because the conviction over the way he was living was so heavy upon him. This day, sitting beside Chelsea, holding her hand while the preacher spoke, he knew he wanted what she had, but was certain he could never find something as pure and meaningful as what Chelsea experienced. Maybe not everyone had the goodness in them that she did. Most likely he didn’t.

  Monday afternoon John arrived to pick Chelsea up. He had refused to tell her where they were going, as he wanted it to be a surprise. All he’d tell her was to take comfortable clothes and boots if she had them. Of course she had boots. No self-respecting Oklahoman would leave them behind. For the flight she wore jeans and a t-shirt, but packed her boots. Instead, she was wearing flip-flops. John, totally out of character for him, was wearing jeans and a button-down. She loved this side of him. He seemed so much more carefree when he was out of dark suits. Almost as if his suits were his superhero businessman costume, without them, he was so much more relaxed.

  As they began their descent, Chelsea looked out the window hoping for some indication of where they might be. Instead of finding the typical surroundings of an airport, she realized they were on a private airstrip. Turning to John, she asked, “Where are we?”

  John decided not to tell Chelsea that they were going to visit his parents. He didn’t want her to be anxious. That was not an easy step, especially in their unusual circumstances. When he phoned his father to tell him they were coming, he’d tried to prepare his dad for the age difference. As expected, his dad didn’t miss a beat. He said he was simply glad to know John still had a heart that was beating.

  “Can we keep it a surprise a little longer?”

  Chelsea was unbuckling her seatbelt when it occurred to her. “We’re in Montana.”

  He couldn’t hide his smile. “How’d you figure that out?”

  Unable to stand as John was currently doing, she asked, “Are we going to see your parents?”

  “We are.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” She would never dream of introducing John to her parents. They would die, or more likely, her dad would want to kill John. In the case of his parents, it was a different deal entirely. Knowing your son was dating a much younger woman would be less of an issue than a daughter dating a much older man; a double standard maybe, but just the way it was.

  “You wanted to be my girlfriend. Now you have to meet my parents.” He was only teasing her. Actually, he’d not been to visit them since before he met Chelsea. Usually he tried to go every two or three months. Since they had no other children and they refused to move to L.A., he had no choice but to travel back and forth to Montana often. They were, after all, the only family he had, and they meant the world to him. As close as he’d always been to Mark and Karen, and now Chelsea, his only true emotional connection had been with his parents. While he heard from his folks weekly, he still felt the need to see for himself how they were getting along. Their wellbeing was one of his greatest concerns in life.

  Years before, he’d purchased most all the land nearest them. Between his ranch and theirs, it accounted for thousands of acres of cattle land. His own ranch was fully active and had several hands who maintained it. They also were expected to watch over his parents’ land and their welfare, and for the most part, they did that. But no matter how many people he had to check in on them, it settled his mind to see for himself.

  Chelsea stood and followed John off the plane. Realizing her hands were suddenly sweaty, she wiped them on her jeans. Every step she took caused her to feel more and more uneasy. More than meeting his parents, it was what he said about her being his girlfriend and having to meet them. Wearily, she wondered if he would expect to meet hers. That was impossible. Sure, they were the nicest people you would ever want to meet, but under such circumstances, they would not be pleasant. Her mother would be fine, but not her dad. She shuddered to think about it.

  On the side of the airstrip, a truck was parked and waiting for them. John loaded their bags into the bed of the truck and then opened her door for her. As she stepped in, she admitted, “I just don’t see you as a truck kind of guy.” So far all she’d seen him drive was a Mercedes sedan and a large SUV. The truck they were riding in was far from new and could’ve just as easily been a truck on her own family farm. As they were driving away from the airstrip, the more she looked over at him, the more fitting the truck seemed. His face was relaxed as he drove. With his left hand draped casually on the wheel and his right hand holding hers, he seemed at peace.

  Noticing a sprawling, rustic ranch house off in the distance, she asked, “Is that your house?” It was not as extravagant as she would have imagined, but it appeared to be a lovely house.

  “It is.” Without looking at the house, he added, “We won’t be staying there. We’ll stay with my folks. My mom would be disappointed if we didn’t.”

  “That’s fine. I just wondered.” When she asked about the house, immediately his jaw muscle began to tighten. Sensing his shift in mood at the sight of the house, she regretted asking. Her first thought was that he must have built it when he was with Tracy. It was the same with his home in L.A. Of course it hadn’t escaped her notice that he’d never invited her over. As much as it made her feel excluded that he kept her at such arm’s length when it came to anything related to Tracy, she could only wish he might someday love her as deeply and faithfully as he had his wife. The extent of their love was something she thought of quite often and was sure it was what caused him to be so driven at work and weary in his personal life. From the first night they had dinner, when she spied his ring, she sensed it; he would never stop loving her. She noticed that when they drove past the house, he moved his thumb to his ring finger and fidgeted with it. Such a gesture caused disappointment to settle upon her, causing her to realize if he ever did love her, she would always be his second choice.

  When they pulled up to the Keller’s home, Chelsea decided it was not at all what she expected. With a millionaire son, she presumed they would have a much more elaborate home. Instead, it was as modest, maybe even more so, than her parents’ home, a typical old farmhouse with a long front porch and dormers on the second story. The wood appeared worn, the white paint faded and peeling. Just as was on the porch of her home back in Oklahoma, there was a swing and rockers. She grinned, knowing they came from the same background. “Cut from the same cloth,” as her granny would have said.

  As Chelsea stepped from the cab of the truck, a short,
plump woman walked out onto the porch drying her hands on a dishtowel. Her hair was silver, the color of John’s temples, and wound into a tight bun pinned at the back of her head. She was smiling from ear to ear at the sight of her son. Walking down the stairs, she clearly had trouble, as she moved slowly and deliberately. When she looked at Chelsea, her smile remained as bright and genuine. Chelsea could see her grandmother in John’s mother, same shape and enthusiasm, and already she felt at ease.

  Anxious to see Mrs. Keller’s reaction to her age, she walked up and introduced herself. “I’m Chelsea.” John had his mother’s hazel eyes.

  “I figured as much. Aren’t you a pretty thing?” Louise tried her best to hide her surprise at Chelsea’s age. Claude had said she was much younger, but Louise thought she would at least be in her thirties. As she drew nearer to the girl, she saw a sweet sparkle in her eyes that was what certainly caught John’s attention. Her complexion was clear and smooth. Oh, to have a face like that again, all smooth and glowing, she thought. Hugging her warmly, she felt Chelsea hug her back, really hug her back, not that phony kind of L.A. hug Tracy gave.

  John approached them and stooped down to hug his mother. Lifting her from the ground, he said, “How’s my favorite mother?”

  “Getting old.” Looking at Chelsea, she said, “And it ain’t fun.”

  From that moment on, Chelsea was completely in love with John’s mother. She was sharp as a tack and actually quite funny. She could tell John got his dry sense of humor from her. When Claude, John’s dad, came from around back of the house, she found him to be very similar to his wife. They both smiled all the time. What she found to be very endearing was how affectionate they were with one another and with their son. The sight of John embracing his father caused a warm feeling to travel throughout her entire body. It was touching and sentimental, something she would have never expected of John. Other than his eyes, he was the spitting image of his father. She quickly noted their mannerisms and facial expressions were the same.

  Claude fussed over Louise as she made her way up the stairs, saying, “I need to put a handrail up for you. I’m afraid you’ll fall.”

  “I don’t need a handrail. I just need a hand to hold onto.”

  John whispered to Chelsea, “She has arthritis in her hip.”

  Chelsea walked into a living room that could have belonged to her grandparents. The furniture was old, comfortable, and well used.

  When Louise showed Chelsea to her room, she said, “This is where you’ll stay. Now we don’t believe in unmarried people sharing a room.”

  The look Louise gave allowed no room for questions. Chelsea hid a smile. Somehow she knew that statement would come. “I don’t believe in that either.”

  Louise cocked one eyebrow and asked, “Are you pulling my leg?”

  Grinning at her, Chelsea assured her, “I’m most certainly not pulling your leg.”

  Leaving Chelsea to get settled in, Louise ran into John in the hallway. He was heading into his old bedroom with his suitcase and Chelsea’s. “I put Chelsea across the hall. No hanky-panky in my house.”

  Chuckling, John leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Standing in the doorway of Chelsea’s room, he warned, “I’m not allowed to come in, so you’ll have to come and get your bag.”

  “I know. I got the lecture too.”

  “Did it embarrass you?”

  “Of course not. But you’ll have to be on your best behavior.” Since that night at her door when he first kissed her, he’d kissed her countless times. No matter where they were, even at the office, if he caught her alone for a minute, he kissed her. He tried to assure her that he was helping her make up for lost time. Once, he asked her why she’d not been kissed in five years. As close as she felt to him, she wasn’t ready to tell him about Tuck. The love she felt for him had finally faded into a distant memory, but the sadness of their story was not something she would ever fully get over. How can you when what was supposed to be is stolen away?

  “I’ve behaved very well, or so I thought.”

  Rising on tiptoes, Chelsea gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “You have behaved very well.”

  “Now listen, no matter what my mother tells you about me, I want you to remember how well behaved I am now.”

  “Will there be stories?”

  “Yes, to anyone who will listen.”

  “I love your parents already.”

  “I don’t blame you. I do too.”

  “You’re a good son.”

  “They’re good parents.”

  Pulling Chelsea over the threshold of the door and into the hallway, he held her close. “I think the hall is international waters. We’re safe here.” As Chelsea snuggled into his embrace, John exhaled loudly. “You feel so good in my arms.” Nothing felt better than holding her. In the past few days, he lived for such moments when he could steal a hug or kiss. She made him feel like a teenager again, and being home just outside of his old bedroom, even more so. Releasing her, he admitted, “International waters suddenly feel less safe.” Pointing across the hall, he cautioned, “A teenage boy lives just across the way.”

  “I’ll lock my door tonight.”

  Leaning down, kissing the tip of her nose he agreed, “Good plan. No telling what he’s capable of.”

  Grinning at him, she stepped back into him. “I trust you.”

  He gathered her into his arms again and whispered, “You always can trust me.”

  Agreeing to meet back downstairs, Chelsea took her suitcase and sat it on the bed. The quilt was clearly homemade, something similar to what she grew up using at home. The room had old flowered wallpaper, not the loud, distasteful kind, rather the worn and faded vintage type. It was soft and romantic, making Chelsea suspect that maybe Louise had secretly wanted a girl. This was definitely a girl’s room. In one corner sat a Boston rocker and nearby, a beautiful antique dresser where Chelsea put her clothes. Excited to be at John’s home with his family, she quickly got unpacked and went back downstairs to find John.

  Louise was in the kitchen checking on her roast. She’d put it in the crockpot earlier and was just about to head out to the garden to get a few tomatoes to slice for dinner. When Chelsea joined her in the kitchen, she asked if she’d like to go with her.

  Stepping out onto the back porch, Chelsea saw a beautiful vegetable garden just beyond a small wooden fence. She took a basket from the porch and followed along, anxious to help. When she was home last was when her grandfather died. It was wintertime, so there was no garden. The year before, she never made it home during spring or summer. Missing home was why she was so enamored with the farmer’s market. She went often and only purchased one or two things while there. That way, she would have a reason to go back within a day or two. Typically, she made large meals and portioned it out for freezing, so she went through enough produce to make her a regular at the market.

  “I thought we could get a few tomatoes.” Louise glanced at Chelsea as they walked, not fully recovered from the shock of how young she was. Not as if she’d ever seen any of the women John dated, but somehow, it seemed unlike him to date a girl so young. He’d been away from home so many years, what did she know? Maybe he’d had a string of child-girlfriends in the years since Tracy died. As difficult as that time was on him, he may have been looking for anything that would ease the pain and help him forget. A girl as pretty as Chelsea could sure do the trick.

  Noticing several ripe squash on the vine, Chelsea asked, “Want me to get those squash for you? I will fry them up if you like fried squash.”

  “I love it, but I’m not supposed to have it.”

  “Aw, one or two pieces won’t hurt. All things in moderation, right?”

  Louise watched as Chelsea kicked her sandals off and stepped into the dirt barefooted. “You might want to leave your shoes on.” Not that rubber shoes were much better.

  “I’ve picked more barefooted that I ever did wearing shoe
s.” From that point, Chelsea was lost in the garden. She picked much more than tomatoes and squash. Exploring the meticulous garden, she found green beans and okra. To her, that day, even okra sounded good if it was fresh out of the garden.

  Louise stood near the edge of the garden with her arms folded and watched as Chelsea filled her basket. Without a doubt, the girl had worked a garden before. Twice she saw Chelsea pull weeds and toss them aside. On a couple of occasions, she stopped and looked up at her. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she’d call out, “Want me to get this?” Genuine, that was the word that came to mind watching her. She was not portraying herself to be anything that she wasn’t; which took her back to Chelsea’s comment about not believing in sharing a room when they weren’t married. With a man John’s age, Louise found it difficult to believe they were not sleeping together. As much as she’d love to believe John had higher moral standards than that, she didn’t think he did anymore.

  When John came to stand beside her, she asked, “Where did you get this girlfriend of yours?”

  “She’s an intern at work.” John hesitated. “But I was kind of seeing her before that.” He tried to use the intern ruse as he had suggested Chelsea do with her parents to keep from explaining the real story, but found he couldn’t even tell a half-truth to his mama. “I’m helping her out with her last year of school, and she keeps me company,” he added as a means to settle his guilty conscience.

  Louise considered her son’s words. Didn’t sound much like a girlfriend, more like a… Intentionally, she let that train of thought go. “Don’t hurt her, John.”

  He was quiet for a moment. Finally, he asked, “Why do you say that?”

  “I see the way she looks at you, and I know how you are.”

  Before he could respond to his mother’s warning, Chelsea came toward them with her basket full. There was a rare glow about her, one he’d never seen before. She nearly sparkled. Chuckling to himself, he wasn’t so sure a person could actually sparkle, but Chelsea’s face was brighter than he had yet to see it, and her cheeks had a dusting of pink from the sunshine.