Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel)

by Coulter, Brenda

  "W-where is it?" she asked faintly. "How old is it? Is it a boy or a—"

  "Don't you understand?" He flung the words at her. "It's gone!"

  Gone? Laney could do no more than mouth the word.

  "It wasn't my choice." Jeb heaved himself to his feet and strode angrily to the far end of the porch, where he stood with his back to her and stared out into the darkness. "But that doesn't make me any less guilty, especially since I paid for her to—" He halted and released a ragged sigh. When he turned and looked at Laney with tortured eyes, she knew with an awful certainty what he had done.

  "She wasn't like you." His deep voice throbbed with an infinite, gut-wrenching sorrow. "Laney, she wasn't anything like you. She didn't want a baby. And I . . ." He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, his Adam's apple rising and falling as he struggled for control. "I was relieved. So I gave her money for the—the procedure, plus some extra so she could take a nice trip somewhere and forget." He shook his head. "But people don't forget that kind of thing, do they?"

  "No," The word barely squeaked out of her throat. "I don't think they do, Jeb."

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. "So tell me again what a good man I am." He barked out a savage laugh. "Tell me again that I'm a hero."

  His self-loathing broke Laney's heart. Tears blurred her vision, but she did her best to blink them away.

  She had to make him understand that he could have forgiveness for this. She hadn't forgotten her old agreement to refrain from proselytizing him, but things were different now. He'd been going to church with her, and last night at the Bible study, he had actually held the Word of God in his hands and followed along as Pastor Ted pointed out verses in Galatians.

  He opened his eyes and regarded her with a sad smile. "Look at you," he said softly, wonderingly. "I've committed about the worst sin a fatherless girl like you can imagine, and you don't even hate me for it."

  "I hate what you did." Laney swiped a tear from her cheek. "But I could never hate you, Jeb. And—" She hesitated for only an instant. "Sins can be forgiven, you know."

  His mouth fell open and his head tilted back, as though he'd just recalled something important. When he spoke, it was with quiet conviction.

  "Yes. I know."

  Hope unfurled in Laney's heart. Did he mean that the way it sounded? Had the Tuesday night Bible lessons and the Sunday morning sermons begun to sink in?

  He returned to the chaise but stood behind it, his hands resting on its tall back. "My father taught me there was nothing worth believing in," he said with obvious difficulty. "Not God. Not love." His hands curled around the chaise's braided wicker edging and Laney heard a faint crackling as he squeezed it. "But then you barged into my life. And there was your mother, too. And both of you . . . loved me. Even when I did stupid things."

  "Real love isn't conditional, Jeb. You don't stop loving somebody when they disappoint you."

  "I think you've proven that." His hands visibly relaxed on the back of the chaise. "Still, apart from the two of you, I've never believed in or trusted anybody." His gaze drifted away as he added, "Until just recently."

  Trepidation folded icy arms around Laney. Was Jeb talking about a woman? After all these years, had he finally met someone special and fallen in love? And if so, why had he denied it that night at Willie's?

  "Laney." He paced back to the far end of the porch. "There's something I need to tell you. The reason I came home."

  No. She wanted to stop her ears, but she made herself sit still and wait.

  He turned to face her. "I meant to tell you as soon as I got here. And then every day after that. But the time just never seemed—" He dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he caught her expression and grinned. "Don't look so worried. It's something good. You're going to be happy for me."

  Happy for him. Yes, she would try.

  Oh Lord, she pleaded silently, desperately. Help me to be happy for him, even if it breaks my heart.

  He walked past her again. Laney had to bite her lip to keep from snapping at him to just stand still for a minute and spit out whatever it was that he meant to tell her. This agony was unbearable.

  He stopped in front of the hot tub and turned suddenly, decisively. "Laney, five days before I came home, I gave my heart—"

  She fought the impulse to squeeze her eyes shut. She could stand this. She could stand anything if it made Jeb happy.

  "—to God," he finished.

  "To—" No, she couldn't have heard that correctly.

  Grinning, he spread his arms like a circus performer inviting applause. "So I'm a Christian now."

  "Oh," Laney said faintly. It seemed to take forever for her mind to switch gears, and then—

  "Oh!" she squealed. "Oh, Jeb!" She rocketed out of her chair to give him a hug.

  As she collided with him, he laughed and staggered back a step. Realizing that she'd knocked him against the side of the hot tub, which was no higher than his knees, she immediately let go and backed away so he could regain his balance.

  He didn't. For a breathless instant his long arms windmilled frantically, and then he pitched over the edge. He hit the water with a mighty splash and went under.

  As giant waves sluiced over the rim of the tub, Laney had the presence of mind to snatch his guitar from the tile floor before the spreading puddles could reach it.

  Jeb came up laughing. "I was perfectly willing to be baptized, princess, but you could have given me some warning." Tilting his head to one side, he twisted a finger in his ear to dislodge some water.

  Instead of climbing out, he took a seat on the far side of the tub. Stretching his arms along its rim, he smiled serenely.

  Laney's gaze clung to his for several seconds, and then with calm deliberation, she laid his guitar on the chaise. She shucked her cardigan and dropped it there, too, and then she slipped out of her loafers. As Jeb watched silently, his dark eyebrows elevated in amusement, she mounted the three steps on the outside of the tub and slowly descended into the hot water.

  Unlike Jeb, who was a plunger, Laney was a toe-dipper who needed time to get used to the water's temperature. Going down another step, she sucked a sharp breath through her teeth. Hot.

  Gritting her teeth, she adapted to the shock. Then she stepped all the way in. Carefully arranging the skirt of her dress so it wouldn't billow immodestly around her, she took a seat opposite Jeb.

  "Tell me everything," she urged. "Every single thing, from the beginning."

  "From the beginning," he repeated thoughtfully. With both hands, he skimmed back his dripping hair. "'In the beginning was the Word. And the Word was God, and the Word was with God. And—'"

  "That's the Gospel of John!" Laney pressed her hands over her heart, which seemed to be trying to thump its way right out of her chest.

  Jeb talked nonstop for several minutes. Amazed and delighted by his news and by his unprecedented volubility, Laney could have listened for hours. But when he reached the end of his story, he got up, held out a hand to her, and said she'd better go home and change into some dry clothes.

  "I have a bunch of questions for you," he added as they climbed out of the tub, water running off their clothes and splashing noisily onto the already wet floor. "But they'll keep. You couldn't have slept much last night, and you've had a rough day."

  "I'm fine, Jeb." She grabbed two plush towels from the stack on a nearby shelf and pushed one at his chest.

  "Princess, you're exhausted." He shook the folds out of the towel she'd given him and swung it around her shoulders like a cape. "Go and get changed while I order our pizza and clean up this mess." He began unbuttoning his sodden flannel shirt. "You should have something to eat and then make it an early night."We can talk more tomorrow."

  "No, tomorrow night I'm going to the Cities with Megan. She won two tickets to the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra, and Luke hates classical music. She's really looking forward to it, Jeb, and there's nobody else to go with her."


  He peeled off his shirt and let it fall to the floor, where it landed with a heavy splat. "Friday, then."

  Laney's mouth opened, but her train of thought was derailed when she noticed how his wet T-shirt clung to the fascinating contours of his chest and shoulders. She'd seen him in a swimsuit lots of times, but somehow she had never realized he was so—

  She yanked her mind off that thought and carefully fixed her gaze on his face. "Sorry, but on Friday I'm having a working supper with my accountant at the tearoom."

  "Saturday. The French place?" He crossed his arms over his chest. For warmth, no doubt, but Laney was grateful for the move because it helped her remember to keep her eyes above his neck.

  "Saturday is my friend Diana's wedding. And even if I could talk you into going, I didn't R.S.V.P. for a guest." Laney shivered as another gust of cold air swept across the porch and went right through her wet dress.

  Frowning, Jeb took the towel she'd forgotten she was holding and put that one around her, too. "But we're going to church on Sunday."

  "Absolutely!" Laney grasped the edges of the towels and pulled them more tightly around her. "Maybe we could have a celebratory brunch after. But I have a baby shower at four o'clock."

  "Of course you do," he said dryly.

  She grinned. "I know. When did I get so popular, right? My schedule's just unusually full for the next several days. I won't even get my day off on Monday because I'm participating in a wedding planning seminar at a country club in Minneapolis." Tilting her head to one side, she gave him a hopeful look. "But I should be home by five, so we could have supper at Willie's. And I won't be so busy next week, so—" She stopped, puzzled by the wariness creeping into Jeb's silvery eyes, and then it hit her: He had already been home for two weeks, and his visits rarely lasted even that long.

  She bit her lip and stared down at her hands, which were clutching the towels around her. Her knuckles looked white.

  "We'll have to play that by ear," Jeb said quietly. "I'm still trying to figure out what to do about the band. My attorney's on vacation in South America and won't be back for a few more days, so at this point I don't even know what my options are."

  He put a finger under Laney's chin and lifted her face. His gaze dipped briefly to her lips, then snapped back to her eyes. Was he thinking about kissing her, or was he just remembering—and regretting—last night's kiss?

  "I'll go to church with you again this Sunday," he said. "I hope to stay longer, but I can't promise anything right now."

  Yes, all right. She wouldn't make herself crazy watching the calendar and wondering how much longer he'd stick around. After the good news she'd heard a little while ago, she ought to be rejoicing, instead.

  He must have seen that resolution in her eyes, because he lowered his hand and smiled. "Now get out of here."

  She crammed her wet feet into her loafers. Holding her towel-cape secure with one hand, she scooped up her bag and her sweater and hurried out the door Jeb held open for her.

  She was freezing, so she broke into a run. And with every long, pounding stride, she gave thanks to the Lord.

  Chapter Seventeen

  On Sunday afternoon, Laney sat on the grass near the rocky shore of Lake Kohlmier, her arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees as she watched scores of ducks and geese paddle on the water's sun-burnished surface. She'd meant to take a long walk, but she'd become lost in her thoughts and had ended up here at the large pond on the southwest side of town.

  Since Jeb's amazing revelation, she'd had little time to herself. He'd known she was worn to a frazzle, so after treating her and the Graces to a leisurely after-church brunch, he'd taken her home and insisted that she have a long nap or read a novel or just sit and think for a while.

  She'd protested that she had barely seen him since Wednesday. He'd countered that she was running herself ragged, and that she needed some time alone to collect her thoughts.

  He was right. Since his homecoming, she'd been through one emotional upheaval after another, and she was a person who needed time to adjust to any kind of change. So even the wonderful news of his salvation had to be examined from every angle before her fluttery heart would calm down.

  How would his life be different now? How might their relationship change? Might he, now that he had opened his heart to God, be able to fall in love with her?

  She shook her head impatiently. She hadn't known he was a Christian that night when they'd kissed, but he had known, and he'd still called the kiss a mistake.

  Was he worried about their ability to manage a long-distance romance? Because long-distance, it would definitely be. How could it be anything else, given his career and her need to be near the Graces?

  While he would almost certainly break with Skeptical Heart, Jeb couldn't live without his music. He hadn't said anything about joining a Christian band, but surely it would come to that. And there just weren't a lot of Christian bands in Owatonna, Minnesota, were there?

  "I'm not going to think about that right now," Laney muttered as a quacking flotilla of ducks cruised past her, the ruffles of their wake catching and reflecting rays from the weakening sun.

  The temperature was dropping. When a gust of wind tugged at Laney's hair and made her shiver, she straightened her knees, pushing her legs out in front of her, and slid her hands into the pockets of her down vest.

  Somewhere nearby, a car door slammed. Laney heard the soft slap of shoes on the paved park road behind her, and then the sound changed to whispery footfalls in the dry grass. She was about to turn her head to see who was approaching when she heard the reassuring rumble of Jeb's voice.

  "I wondered if this was still your favorite thinking spot." He reached over her shoulder to wave a lidded paper coffee cup under her nose.

  In the steam curling up from the plastic sipping spout, Laney recognized the tempting aroma of a mocha cappuccino. She jerked to life, ripping eager hands out of her vest pockets to claim the treat.

  "Thank you," she breathed, wrapping her hands around the warm cup.

  "I saw you go out with nothing warmer than that vest on." Jeb lowered himself to the ground beside her. "And two hours later, you still weren't back, and I worried about you freezing."

  He set his coffee on the grass and then leaned sideways, reaching into his jacket pocket. He produced a black knit cap, which he proceeded to fit onto Laney's head.

  "Who are you?" She was amused by, but didn't resist his ministrations. "The fourth Grace, come to mother-hen me?"

  "Something like that." He tucked her ears under the cap, and then he sat back and watched her take a cautious sip of coffee. "Are you okay?"

  "I am now." She saluted him with her cup, conveying her gratitude for the coffee and the warm hat. "I was just about to head back to get ready for the baby shower, but now that I've got a ride, I'd love to sit here for a few more minutes."

  "I'm on foot." Jeb stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. "Ollie stopped by to borrow my canoe. He'd promised to take a cappuccino home to his wife, so I rode over to Starbucks with him and then had him drop me off here."

  "I'm glad you're spending time with him," Laney said. Ollie's church was a different denomination from hers, but he was a fine Christian all the same, and could offer Jeb some good fellowship.

  They were silent for a few minutes, drinking their coffee, and then Jeb set his cup on the grass again. Leaning back on his hands, he gazed up at the sky.

  "Who's having a baby?" he asked.

  "You don't know her," Laney said. "I just met her a few months ago." Remembering how she'd found young Jenna Harris crying her eyes out before the home pregnancy test kits at the drug store, Laney sighed. "Poor little thing."

  Jeb turned his head and looked at her, amusement lifting his dark eyebrows. "Explain to me how you could feel sorry for a woman who's having a baby."

  "She's not married, Jeb. She's a college kid, barely nineteen, and her parents are making her feel like trash. And the baby's father
has agreed to share the financial burden, but he refuses to be involved in any other way. So Jenna's all alone."

  Like her mother and the Graces, Laney had never been able to turn her back on anyone in need. So she'd taken Jenna to Willie's for a milkshake and had listened to the girl's sad tale. A few days later, she had invited six of her own friends to a gratis Sunday afternoon party at the tearoom in order to introduce Jenna.

  Crystal Lincoln, Ollie's new wife, had been charmed by the girl and had decided on the spot to throw her a baby shower.

  "I still don't understand." Staring at a black duck dabbling near the water's edge, Jeb spoke as though to himself. "How could I have spent so much time with a truly good person and never believed in God until now?"

  Laney huffed impatiently. "I'm no Mary Poppins, Jeb. I'm not Practically Perfect in Every Way."

  He looked at her. "Close enough."

  "No, Jeb. I'm a sinner, just like you."

  "Not like me."

  Scowling, he picked up his coffee cup, swirled it as though trying to gauge how much was left, and then tossed his head back and drank deeply.

  On the verge of becoming mesmerized by the movements of his throat, Laney blinked hard and switched her focus to the black duck, which was again going bottom-up in search of food.

  "Princess, you're nothing like me." The heartbreaking conviction in his voice drew Laney's gaze back to his face. "Sassing your mom when you were a kid was nothing compared to—" Shaking his head, he crushed the coffee cup in his fist. "I've done some awful things, Laney. Things I'll never tell you about because you don't need those ugly images in your mind."

  Do you honestly think he doesn't take illicit drugs and consort with groupies?

  Mrs. Lindstrom's question buzzed like a troublesome insect inside Laney's head, but she mentally swatted it away.

  Jeb wasn't that man anymore. He had turned his back on his old life and accepted God's forgiveness.

  "You're missing the point," she said. "My disrespecting Mom was one of the sins Jesus died for. Maybe your sins have been more—" She paused to search for the word. "More blatant than mine. But are they worse than mine?" She gave her head an emphatic shake. "Sin is sin, Jeb. It's rebellion against our heavenly Father. He doesn't smile and say, 'Well, that was only a little sin. At least Laney Ryland isn't as bad as that awful Jackson Bell.'"