Evangeline felt another protest spring to her lips but then she glanced his way and caught his smile and her resistance shifted. “Okay,” she conceded. “But as soon as we’re done I’m getting to work here.”
“Deal.”
Denny set a hot plate on the table and the casserole on top as Evangeline took out the paper plates, plastic utensils and napkins from the bag she brought along, and set it all on the table.
Ella banged her fists on the table, jabbering away. Denny picked her up and put her on his lap. “I’ll have to get her another high chair for when she’s here,” he said.
“I can bring one when I come tomorrow,” Evangeline replied as she sat at the table. “I’m sure I can find one in town.”
She was about to dish up the food when she saw Denny take Ella’s hands and put them together. “Now, Ella, we’re going to pray for this amazing food that Auntie Evangeline brought us,” he said, bending his head over her, his dark hair a contrast to her blond curls.
Evangeline folded her hands, as well, as Denny angled her a smile. Then he bowed his head.
“Dear Lord,” he prayed. “Thank You for this wonderful food. Thank You for the hands that prepared them. Help us to trust in You always. And thank You that Your love is never-ending and that You always find us. Amen.”
She clenched her hands together as his simple and sincere prayer soothed her thirsty soul.
But even more, it created a gentle yearning for Denny’s basic faith.
She lifted her head to see him looking down at Ella, smiling. “Say ‘amen,’ sweetie,” he urged.
The endearment came naturally. For a man who didn’t know this little girl even existed a week ago, he was doing remarkably well at connecting with her. A wave of envy flowed through Evangeline as she wondered why her father—who had seen her born, had helped her through the first eight years of her life—had acted so differently.
“Say ‘amen,’” Denny prompted again.
“Ahh, ahh” was Ella’s burbling reply.
“Good girl,” Denny said, giving her a quick hug. “She’s a smart little thing,” Denny said, a tinge of pride in his voice. “Say Dada,” he prompted.
Ella clapped her hands and laughed. “Mama. Mama. Mama.”
The spoon Evangeline was holding clattered onto the table. She shot Denny a horrified look, suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t know where she got that from,” she blurted. She hoped he didn’t think she had taught Ella that.
“Don’t apologize. I’m sure she called Lila that,” he said, giving her a quick smile as Evangeline picked up the spoon and served him his casserole. “And this looks and smells amazing. I’m starving.”
“Do you want me to take Ella so you can eat?” she offered.
He shook his head, his fork in one hand, his other holding Ella. “I don’t mind. I haven’t seen her all day.”
Evangeline nodded, served herself, and as soon as she started eating, so did Denny.
Neither spoke as they ate and Evangeline kept her attention on the food on her plate. Finally she looked across the table and was disconcerted to catch Denny looking at her. She ducked her head, wishing she had simply gone straight home instead of offering to help him clean the house.
“So, tell me, how did your dad get this ranch?” Denny asked, breaking the silence.
Evangeline wiped her mouth and gave him a quick smile. “He took it over from his father shortly after he and my mother married. His father wanted to get out of the business. He lives in Kelowna now.”
“It’s a good-size spread,” Denny said. “And the bookstore?”
“My grandparents—my mother’s parents—owned it, but they died a couple of years after my mom got married. Her sister, my aunt Josie, managed it for my father after my mother...after she died.”
Denny shifted Ella on his lap as she reached out for his plate. “That must have been a hard time for you,” he said quietly.
Evangeline too easily recalled that bleak, empty part of her life. “It was difficult,” she said carefully, aware of Denny’s friendship with her father.
She didn’t want to mention that time was doubly difficult because her father hadn’t stayed around, either. When he’d dropped her off at the bookstore, Evangeline had felt as if she had lost two parents instead of one.
“I’m sure you know how hard that must be,” she said, turning the conversation back to him. “After your parents died.”
“It was hard. But I learned I had to trust God and I know He pulled me through.”
“You have a strong faith in God, don’t you?”
“You sound surprised.”
“Not surprised. Maybe a little envious.”
“Why would you be envious?”
Evangeline shrugged, not sure what to say. She didn’t talk about her faith much. Never had with her father or Tyler.
And maybe that was part of the problem with those relationships, she thought.
“You believe in God, don’t you?” he asked, his quiet question digging up old memories of church, of reading her Bible, of a relationship that had, at one time, been the most important in her life.
And the only stable one.
“I do. I always have. I’ve just...neglected my faith for a while.”
“Can I ask why?”
Evangeline shrugged. “It’s not out of bitterness, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just...neglect. Got caught up with a boyfriend who never went to church. After we broke up I got busy with the store, trying to find a way to make it profitable. Trying to put my own stamp on it. God kind of took a backseat to all of that.”
“Do you miss God?”
His question laid bare the emptiness of her life the past few years. An emptiness she had never wanted to examine too deeply because she knew it would mean refocusing her life and changing her priorities.
Then she released a light laugh, devoid of humor. “Actually, I do.”
“So why don’t you go to church?”
“Seems strange to me now. To go after all this time.”
“You know the story of the prodigal son.”
“Of course.”
“I always found it interesting that when the son returned, the father immediately ran toward him because he was waiting for his son’s return.” Denny gave her a quick smile. “I like to think that every day the father would get up, go to the road and wait. That’s the picture Jesus gave us of God.”
“I’ve always had trouble with the image of God as Father,” she said quietly, pushing some rice around her plate, avoiding Denny’s sincere gaze. “In my story I was the one who waited, not my father. And it seems I’m still waiting.” That last comment came out with a bitter note that she immediately regretted. She was telling him things she had only ever told Renee, her best and dearest friend.
And Denny was her father’s friend and had probably heard her father’s version of his story.
“Your father has often said that being in Rockyview was hard for him,” Denny said. “After losing his wife.”
His defense of her father was admirable but Evangeline felt a flicker of anger.
“He was miserable after my mother died,” was her careful reply. “He left me alone a lot.”
“I thought he spent a lot of time with you?”
She wished she hadn’t let the words spill out, but somehow being around him lowered her defenses. She wasn’t saying anything more, but then his eyes met hers and in their dark depths she saw sympathy.
And his questions and attentiveness slowly drew out the memories.
“When my mother died, my father was devastated. I know that. I know he loved her. So did I. But a month after her funeral he dropped me off at my aunt’s place. Aunt Josie had helped my mother run the bookstore. She lived in my grandparents’ old apartment above it. Andy asked if she could take care of me. I remember crying when he left. I was still dealing with the loss of my mother and a month later my father left me.”
Denny shook his head. “How long was he gone?”<
br />
“About six months. When he came back I thought we were moving back onto the ranch. Instead he fixed up the apartment you were staying in. We lived there whenever he came home. He was around a couple of months and then gone again.” She stopped, aware of the sour note entering her voice. “But that was a long time ago.”
“Maybe, but it must have been hard. Being abandoned when you had your own grief to deal with,” he said. “What was your aunt like?”
Evangeline gave him a careful shrug. “I think she tried her best. She was a single woman who had never had children of her own. I don’t think she knew what to do with me half of the time. I spent a lot of time in the bookstore. It became my refuge, my one connection to my mother.”
“That’s sad.” Then, to her surprise, he reached over and laid his hand on her arm in sympathy.
His hand was warm and rough. The hands of a working man.
And his light caress sent a tingle up her spine. She should pull her arm away, but didn’t want to. It had been a long time since someone other than her friends had expressed concern for her.
And a long time since the touch of a man had created this kind of reaction.
Her practical mind told her he was only being sympathetic. However, as she looked into his eyes it was more than sympathy she saw glinting in their brown depths.
“It was hard,” she said. “But eventually I got accustomed to my dad’s comings and goings and promises that someday we’d move back onto the ranch and have a normal life. Obviously that never happened. Thankfully I had the bookstore to keep me focused and busy.” She pressed her lips against the spill of words. Goodness, she was getting maudlin. She had to stop before she started feeling even sorrier for herself.
“Still, I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” He finally pulled his hand away and she felt a sense of loss.
She gave him a regretful smile, covering up her reaction to his touch. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”
“Sorry. Force of habit from living with three sisters,” he said with a quick grin.
“How so?”
“Even if whatever happened wasn’t my fault—the lost book, the boyfriend who didn’t like them, the girlfriend who was fighting with them—my sisters would often find a way to make it my problem. So Nate and I learned early on to live in a state of abject apology.”
Evangeline laughed at that, thankful for his easy return to a lighter subject. “Nate being your foster brother?”
“Yeah.”
“How long did he stay with you?”
“He came when he was twelve. Tough, angry kid, but he mellowed. My parents loved him and my sisters teased him and he followed me around everywhere. It was hard on him when my parents died.”
“I’m surprised social services let him stay with you after that.”
Denny pulled Ella’s hand away from his plate. “He was sixteen at the time. At that age he could have moved out on his own. He chose to stay at the ranch until...” He let the sentence fade away.
“Until...?” Evangeline prompted.
“Until Lila and I got divorced.” Denny scooped up a small amount of the casserole onto his fork and lifted it to Ella’s lips. “You want to try some of this, baby girl?”
But Ella batted her hand at the fork, spilling the food.
“Sorry,” Denny said, wiping it up with his hand as he gave Evangeline a sheepish grin.
“That can be cleaned,” Evangeline said, pushing herself away from the table to get some more napkins, sensing Denny didn’t want to talk about Lila.
And she didn’t dare question him the way he had questioned her about her faith.
Partly because she didn’t want to know about Lila. Didn’t want to know how deeply Denny grieved her death.
And why not? Is it because you might be envious?
She brushed that question aside, but when she returned to the table he looked up. When their eyes met, her heart shifted.
She wiped at the chicken and rice, then, picking up the casserole dish, as well, turned away, her heart battling with her mind. He had no room for her in his life and she didn’t want to be a part of it. She had chosen wrong before, put her trust in the wrong person. She didn’t dare repeat that mistake.
But even as her heart and mind did battle, her resolve shifted.
He is a man of faith. A man of integrity.
A man who had a baby to take care of and an ex-wife to grieve, the practical part of her mind told her.
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” Denny said as she threw the napkin into the garbage. “My sister is finally coming to the ranch on Monday to help me out with Ella.”
“So you won’t need me anymore?” She kept her back turned to him, surprised his news created this bloom of desolation.
“Probably not.”
Evangeline nodded, fussing with the casserole dish, scraping the leftovers into a container she had brought along for that express purpose. “That’s good,” she said, forcing a cheerful note to her voice. “That will work out great.” She glanced through the window over the kitchen sink, looking out at the ranch. If his sister came, she wouldn’t need to come out here anymore.
She closed her eyes. This was good. This was the way it should be. She was becoming too attached to Ella.
Too attached to Denny.
“I want you to know how much I appreciate your help,” Denny continued as she fussed unnecessarily with the container, making sure she got the lid on exactly right.
“No problem,” she replied. “Gladly done.” But she still couldn’t turn to face him. “I’ll just put this in the fridge and then I’ll be on my way,” she murmured.
“You don’t have to leave yet,” he said.
Oh, yes, I do, she thought. She had planned on cleaning the stove but the situation was getting complicated. And she was getting too attached.
It was a good thing his sister was coming, she thought fifteen minutes later as she drove off the ranch.
The best thing that could happen.
So why did she feel an emptiness growing in her heart as each passing moment took her farther from the ranch?
“Seriously, Jodie?” Denny tucked his phone under his chin as he unbuckled Ella from her car seat. It was Sunday morning and he had come to church early. He was looking forward to the service. Then his sister called, effectively ruining his Sunday peace. “You promised you would come and I need you.”
“Sorry. I know I said that,” Jodie said. “But when I told my boss I was quitting, he said he’d give me a bonus if I stuck around another week, and you know I can use the money.”
Denny pulled Ella out of the backseat of his truck and kicked the door shut. He wanted to remind Jodie of the times he’d helped her but knew that could awaken a more painful subject.
Because of his poor choice, Jodie had had to move from her home.
“I thought you had some lady helping you out,” Jodie said.
“I can’t keep asking her to come. She has her own business to run.” And he knew that in spite of the havoc and turmoil in his own life, he was growing too attached to Evangeline. That moment in his kitchen when he had impulsively reached out and touched her had lingered long after she’d left. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Carrying Ella, he walked around to the other side of the truck and pulled out the diaper bag Evangeline had readied for him yesterday when she’d brought Ella to the ranch. Last week he’d come to church completely unprepared. This week he didn’t want to look like a poor father.
“I’ll come as soon as I’m done with this job,” Jodie promised. “Next week.”
He’d simply have to be satisfied with that. “I’ll see you by the end of next week, Jodie,” he warned her.
“Looking forward to meeting my little niece.”
“I hope so.” He was nearing the front doors of the church. “I gotta go. Send me a text when you know when you’re coming.”
“Roger that.” She signed off, leaving Denny in t
he lurch once again.
Denny sighed, turned his phone to silent and slipped it into his shirt pocket. Sisters. Never there when he needed them, only there when they wanted something from him. Now he would have to ask Evangeline to continue to help him.
That thought frightened him and sent anticipation singing through him at the same time. As he pulled open the door of the church the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee assaulted his nostrils. He’d missed his morning coffee and his breakfast.
While he’d fed Ella he’d been on the phone going over final details with Carlos, then arranging for more feed for the cows. Taking care of everyone but himself.
And trying not to remember Evangeline sitting across from him a few days ago as she ate supper with him as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
As she listened to him talk about his faith. After she’d left he’d felt as if he had come on a bit strong. He’d only wanted her to know that God cared for her.
Because you’re starting to care about her.
It was as if the boundaries he had placed around his heart were slowly being erased by Evangeline’s continued presence.
“Hey, Denny, good to see you.” Tanner Bond stopped to say hi, waggling his fingers at Ella. “And you, little girl. You’re a cute one.”
“That she is,” Denny agreed, the diaper bag starting to dig into his shoulder. What had Evangeline put in the thing? An iron to smooth out any wrinkles in Ella’s clothes?
“If you need a place to sit, you can join us,” Tanner said. “I know how hard it can be to come to a new church.”
“Sure. Thanks,” Denny returned. “I’ll just take Ella to the nursery.”
“You know where it is?”
“Someone showed me last week,” he said. He turned to walk down the hall and then, suddenly, Ella clapped her hands.
“Mama. Mama,” she called out, netting a few smiles from some of the other people gathered in the foyer.
Denny looked up and there was Evangeline.
She wore the same white-and-gold dress she’d worn to show him around the ranch. A flower clip held her hair to one side, letting the rest wave over her shoulder.
Cute as a button. Pretty as a picture.
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