Home to Chicory Lane (9781426796074)

by Raney, Deborah;

  Her mother smiled and raised a brow. “I happen to know a certain girl who has learned quite a bit over these last few months, and I’ve seen quite a change in her. For the better, I might add. But I don’t think she’s ready to be God yet.” Mom reached across the couch and patted her cheek.

  “Mom . . .”

  “I’m not saying you were unbearable before—” She looked toward the ceiling. “Actually, maybe I am saying that . . .”

  Landyn laughed. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not always the most pleasant person to have around. These last few months have been so hard, Mom.” And they had been. But they’d also been good in a way she’d never imagined.

  “You know, honey, your dad took a pretty big risk and made a huge sacrifice—of finances, and of his own desires—when he agreed to open the inn. I feel a little guilty about it, if you want to know the truth. But I also felt—feel so much love in his decision. It—” Tears sprang to Mom’s eyes. “I can’t ever thank your dad enough for letting me explore my dream. I can say without reservation that you’d be giving Chase a wonderful gift if you allowed him the same.”

  “I know.” She looked at her lap.

  “And here’s the thing, sweet girl . . . This B&B thing has not been all it’s cracked up to be. We’ve faced some pretty tough challenges already. And there are no guarantees that we won’t be trying to sell the place in a year or two—”

  “What?” Surely she wasn’t serious.

  But her mother held up a hand. “I’m not saying we’ve talked about that. It’s just that we don’t know what might be down the road. The economy could go south—”

  “You mean farther south?”

  Mom gave a humorless laugh. “Our health could go south, the house could burn down . . . There’s a lot that can go wrong when you’re trying to make a dream come true. I’m just saying that if you do allow Chase his dream, you have to do it with no strings attached. Dad has done that for me. And it’s been the best thing about the whole venture.”

  “I didn’t know all that.”

  “I know you didn’t. Dad’s not one to toot his own horn. And sadly, I’m not given to much humility.” Mom rolled her eyes. “I’m working on that. And speaking of working on that, what about this Valentine’s Day giveaway idea you had?” She flipped back through the proposal.

  Landyn took her cue and outlined her ideas in more detail.

  She was in the midst of fleshing out another idea when Chase drifted in from the family room and sat on the arm of the couch, kneading the muscles in her neck.

  A minute later, Dad and Link wandered in too and plopped down across from them in overstuffed chairs.

  “That film must have been pretty boring for you to choose our company over a movie,” Mom said. “Hey, but this is great. You guys can give us your input on Landyn’s ideas.”

  Landyn presented them in a nutshell, and for the next half hour, the five of them brainstormed the way Landyn used to with her team at Fineman and Justus. With input from her three favorite men on the planet, she wasn’t sure she’d ever had so much fun on a project.

  “Shoot, sis,” Link said, “you could open your own firm in Langhorne. I’m serious.”

  She’d dared to entertain that very idea over the last few minutes, but to hear her brother say it—in front of the rest of them—made her believe it might be possible.

  “I just might do that. Who knows,” she said, with an exaggerated wink. “If this goes over well, I might even hit up Lawna and Fred Farley to see if they want me to design some folders.”

  “Folders?” Link’s brow knit.

  “You look flummoxed, brother. Did you forget?”

  “Forget what?”

  “Folders for Farleys Family Fun Friday at Tease, Tan ’n’ Tone?”

  “Oh, that’s right.” The glint in Mom’s eye told Landyn she was in on the joke. “That’s the fourth Friday in February . . . How fantastically fitting.”

  Deadpan, Link rolled his eyes and lumbered out of his chair. “I’m finished with you foolish females.”

  Chase and her dad got up to follow Link, but not before Dad threw his best effort over his shoulder. “Finished . . . f-forever.”

  The men retreated in the wake of their girlish giggles, and even Chase and Link groaned over that one.

  But Landyn’s heart swelled with love for her family, and without warning, her laughter turned to tears.

  “Honey?” Alarm colored her mother’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’d miss all of this so much . . . If we moved back to New York, I mean.”

  “Is that how you’re leaning? Toward a move?” Her mother’s voice was so soft she could scarcely hear, and she suspected Mom was holding her breath for the answer.

  “I don’t know. That’s the hardest part—not knowing. I just wish this was settled.” She laughed through her tears. “I’m sorry . . . I think I’m just emotional. Too many hormones running through my veins.”

  Mom leaned to hug her. “You’ll figure it out. God will show you what to do. I’m not worried.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I hope you’re right.”

  37

  I just can’t quit thinking that if—” Chase wrung out the dishcloth and took another swipe at CeeCee’s spotless kitchen counters, wishing he’d never started this conversation. But he had, and he knew Cecelia Whitman wouldn’t let him abandon it now. “If I missed God’s leading by such a long shot, how can I ever know when I do get it right?”

  Landyn’s grandmother—still in bib overalls from her “evening constitutional” around the block—regarded him with a questioning look. “Who says you missed it?”

  “Well, it’s pretty obvious I did. I thought God was saying one thing, but at the very moment I was supposedly hearing His voice, Landyn was already pregnant. I didn’t know that, but God surely did. There’s no way He would have led me to take that stupid studio apartment when He knew we had twins on the way. So . . . I couldn’t have heard Him right.”

  “Chase, my boy.” She made a tsk tsk sound with her tongue. “Quit beating yourself up over this. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that God rarely works in ways that make sense to us while they’re happening. All too often, it’s only after we look back, sometimes many years later—often, truth be told, peering over heaven’s balcony—that we can make sense of the way He was working.”

  “I appreciate that, CeeCee. I really do.” He wasn’t sure why he was so filled with doubt today. It had been a good day. He’d finished a painting and gotten a check from Miles. A decent one. But between the emergency room and the deductible on Landyn’s car—never mind babies coming!—bills were piling up and doubts assailed him. “How many times can I mess up without—”

  “Son, God isn’t a three-strikes-you’re-out kind of guy.” CeeCee handed him a platter to dry. “Who knows? Making that decision about that apartment in Brooklyn might have been the only way you’d have ever gotten Landyn to come with you. God knows”—she rolled her eyes heavenward—“that girl is stubborn enough the Lord likely has to come up with some creative ways to get her to do His bidding.”

  “Boy, can I sympathize with Him on that one.”

  CeeCee gave an impish grin. “I can still see that girl—she must’ve been four or five at the time—with her feet dug in hard, and her mama pushing and her daddy pulling, trying to get her to go on the merry-go-round at the Clemens County fair. They never did get her on there. And she’s still that little girl sometimes, refusing to go wherever it is God—or anyone else, for that matter—is trying to lead her. Even if there’s a merry-go-round ride waiting on the other end.”

  Chase laughed out loud. It wasn’t hard to picture a stubborn little Landyn. But he got CeeCee’s point, too.

  She leaned her head closer to his. “And if you tell Landyn about this conversation, I will deny it with my dying breath.”

  He feigned a sigh and shook his head slowly. “And I wonder where she gets it.”

  CeeCee looked pro
ud enough to pop the buttons off her bib overalls. But she sobered. “I’m going to say this once, Mr. Chase. And if I have to say it a dozen more times I will, but it would behoove you to hear me this first time.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  CeeCee thumped an arthritic finger at his chest, but the expression on her face was pure love. “Don’t let this bog you down. If you made a mistake, fess up and move on. If you’re not sure whether you made a mistake or not, give it to God. He’s not going to strike you with lightning if you thought you were doing the right thing.”

  Could she be right? This thing had been eating him up ever since the possibility of refurbishing the loft with Grant had come up. But he wasn’t sure he could just let it go. It felt too important.

  “Are you two up for a rematch?” Landyn popped her head around the corner from the laundry room. They’d been playing a marathon of Mexican Train Dominoes in the evenings and Landyn was low man on the totem pole. “I’m feeling lucky tonight.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m feeling lucky too.” Chase gave Landyn “that” look over the top of CeeCee’s head.

  Her smile said she got his meaning. He’d have to find a way to end the game early tonight.

  “Don’t think I’m so blind I don’t see those googly eyes you two are giving each other.” She shook a finger at them. “And I’m not so old I don’t remember what ‘getting lucky’ means.” She yawned. “I am pretty tired.”

  A fake yawn if Chase had ever seen one.

  “I believe I’ll just go on to bed.” She winked at him, then slipped off her apron and hung it on a hook. “You two enjoy your evening.”

  Landyn covered a smile with her hand, and Chase felt his face heat. “Goodnight, CeeCee.”

  When her door was safely shut, Chase turned to his wife, arm outstretched. “Are you as tired as I am?”

  She laughed and accepted his hand. “Why, I do believe I am.”

  * * *

  Hearing her husband’s even breaths, Landyn slipped out of bed and went to the window. The clouds blew across the night sky parting a curtain on a sliver of bright December moon.

  Landyn stood there in her nightshirt, just as she had as a little girl spending the night at CeeCee’s little house in town. That fathomless sky had always held such mystery for her, and tonight was no different.

  She and Chase had lain atop the nest of quilts on the bed in CeeCee’s house, spent, entangled in each other’s arms.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there watching the moon—and praying—when she heard Chase stir in the bed behind her.

  “You okay, baby?”

  “I’m fine. Go back to sleep. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  But he climbed out of bed and came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her, cupping his hands beneath her expanding belly, and nestling his chin atop her head. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing . . . Everything. Just trying to figure some things out.”

  “Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.” He told her about his conversation with CeeCee earlier tonight while they had done the dishes together. “I wish it was so easy as your grandmother makes it sound.”

  “I don’t think she meant to make it sound easy. But maybe it’s true that it’s always easier looking back.” She leaned back into him and pulled his arms tighter around her like a blanket, filling to overflowing with love for him—a love she’d once been afraid she’d lost forever. “Chase, we may never know why everything has happened like it has. Why we had to go through this to get where we are. But does it really matter? We’re just—imperfect people trying to follow a perfect God. We try to be obedient to all we know of Him. And we have to trust that He’ll take care of the rest.”

  “And He will.” Gently, he turned her around and folded her into his embrace. “He’s proven that over and over again. And the more we see Him work in our lives, the easier it will be to trust Him. At least . . . I hope it will be.”

  She relaxed against him, happy to be in his arms, to be carrying his babies. She glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. The numbers glowed red in the darkness. Just past midnight.

  The beginning of a brand new day.

  And just like that—in the twinkling of an eye, as if a switch had been flipped—she knew what she wanted. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. And she knew that now was the time to tell him.

  “Chase?”

  “Hmm?” He sounded drowsy. Or maybe he was just feeling as content and relaxed as she was.

  “What if I told you I want to stay?”

  He stilled. “Stay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here?”

  “Well, not at CeeCee’s. But in Langhorne. I think we should buy the loft and fix it up. I think we should raise our babies here, close to Poppa and Gram and CeeCee and all the aunts and uncles and cousins.”

  He was quiet, too quiet.

  But a heartbeat later he said, “I’m listening.”

  “You can have your studio and we’ll make a room for the babies. We can take getaways to New York, to the galleries, and to meet with Miles. I love the city. I do. But—this time back here—back home—has reminded me of what I grew up with. I want that for our babies, Chase. I do.”

  He tipped her chin. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He nodded against her cheek. “Me too. I want our kids to have what you had growing up. What I . . . didn’t have.”

  She hated the sadness and longing in his voice.

  But when he spoke next, there was a lilt of hope there too. “I sort of feel like I’ve been given another chance, you know?”

  “You have, babe. And you’ll be a great dad, Chase. I have no doubt.”

  He tensed. “I’m going to need help. I know your dad has his doubts, but I feel like even he is giving me another chance—offering to help me renovate the loft. That’s one of the reasons I most want to stay here. I want to get to know him better, too. To . . . learn from him.” His hands moved over her abdomen, over the place that nestled their children. “It’ll be slow going. I’ll have to work on the paintings for Miles during the day and do the remodeling after hours. But if you can handle living in a dump for a few months . . .”

  “Oh, Chase . . . As long as you’re there with me, as long as we’re in this together”—she covered his hands with hers—“I think I can handle just about anything.”

  38

  Hey, Chase. What do you think?” Grant held an unwieldy sheet of corrugated tin up to the wall of the loft where Chase’s work table was to go. The metal was aged and rusted to perfection.

  “Looks good.”

  “It’ll take some doing to get this cleaned up, but I’ll take it home and work on that tonight.”

  “Cleaned up? Um . . . I was thinking about using it just like that. It has a nice aged look.”

  “Probably because it’s sixty years old.”

  Chase could tell Grant was having to work to keep from rolling his eyes. He leaned the metal up against the wall in question, took a few steps back, and squinted. “I guess it does look okay like that. Got that grunge thing going. Gives the place some character, that’s for sure.”

  Chase grinned. “Exactly.” He was frankly surprised his father-in-law seemed halfway enthused about what he kept referring to as “the grunge look.” Chase had to curb a smile every time.

  “Looks like the Chipotle restaurant in Kansas City . . . you know, the Mexican place. Except theirs is shiny. Nice and new. Real clean look, you know?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, Landyn was showing me something similar in one of her design magazines the other night—it was in a SoHo loft. She says they call it Industrial Chic.”

  Grant made a face. “Let’s just stick with industrial and leave the ‘chic’ to the girls,” Grant said, chalking quote marks in the air.

  Chase chuckled. “Sounds good to me. But I do want to keep the rust and crud on for my studio.”

  “Rust and crud it is.” Grant pul
led a tape measure from his pocket and stretched it out, handing Chase one end and dragging the other across the length of the loft. “So you think you want this on this whole wall?”

  “If there’s enough.”

  Grant nodded. “Lots more where that came from.” He stopped at the window that overlooked Langhorne’s Main Street. “You’ve got a pretty nice view up here, I’ll give you that.”

  Again, Chase had to hold back a grin. Grant hadn’t “given him” much since he and Landyn had come back to Missouri. But working together on the loft these past two months had made him appreciate Landyn’s dad in a different way than before. And he felt pretty certain that was starting to go both ways.

  Grant arched his back and stretched before picking up the sheet of metal again. “If we get on it, we can get this up yet tonight. These longer days are in our favor.”

  “Good. I’m a little nervous about making CeeCee’s deadline,” Chase ventured.

  “Deadline?”

  “She hosts her bridge club two weeks from today.”

  “That’s right. I forgot. Two weeks, huh?”

  Chase nodded, frowning.

  “We’ll make it.” Grant reeled in the tape measure and stuffed it back in his pocket. “And if we don’t, we’ll figure something out. Looks to me like you could move in downstairs any time if you needed to. The girls finished all the painting didn’t they?”

  “Yes, but Audrey thinks Landyn should wait another week to give the paint fumes a chance to dissipate.”

  “Oh. Sure. Hadn’t thought of that. Well, we could get the furniture moved in at least . . . Get the babies’ room set up.”

  He nodded, but every time the subject came up, he felt a little lightheaded. Landyn’s mom and sisters had spent three days painting the entire apartment below the loft. There was plenty they still wanted to do to the place, but a coat of paint had made a huge difference, and Landyn had been combing Craigslist and eBay for stuff for the babies’ room.

  He was still getting used to the idea of having a baby in their lives—let alone two. But then, he was getting used to a lot of ideas he’d never considered before. Being part of a large family for one.