Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Unexpected Cowboy\His Ideal Match\The Rancher's Secret Son (25 page)

Realizing belatedly that his heavy beard must be scratching her delicate skin, that he probably smelled like a goat, that he hadn't told her how beautiful she was, or how unworthy he felt to be holding her like this, he began preparing himself to pull back. First, he mentally put together an apology for taking advantage of her. She had been sleeping and no doubt dreaming of her late husband. He shouldn't have kissed her back. If she hadn't reached for him, looking so sweet, with her sleepy eyes and soft smile...

Suddenly, she shoved away, gasping, an expression of horror on her face.

“Oh, no!”

He'd waited too long. If he'd had to kiss her, why hadn't he called a halt to it a little earlier?

“It's not your fault,” he began, but she'd already yanked open the door and run out of the truck. “Carissa, please.”

He jumped out and followed her up the walkway, across the porch and through the front door, which she'd left wide open. By the time Phillip got inside, she'd torn past two of the aunties, Hypatia and Magnolia, and was literally sprinting up the staircase.

“Goodness!” Hypatia exclaimed, looking down at him in alarm. “Is everything all right?”

Sick at heart, Phillip closed the front door. What now? Go after her? Apologize? Explain? He couldn't even explain what had just happened to himself, let alone to Carissa. Or the aunts. His heart dropped into his stomach, which promptly turned over. Gulping, he made himself face the aunties, only to find that Dallas had appeared on the stairway above them.

“What's wrong with Carissa?”

He started trudging up the stairs. Weary words tumbled out of his mouth, all true, so far as they went. “She's overtired. And grieving. It's been a long, difficult day. Going through her father's things wasn't easy for her.”

“The poor thing,” Magnolia said. Hypatia merely looked thoughtful.

“She seemed very anxious to look in on the children,” Dallas reported.

Phillip paused beside her on the stairs, suddenly so tired that he could drop where he stood. “I can't thank you enough for today, sis. Having the kids there to go through their grandfather's things was almost more than any of them could bear, I think.”

Dallas smiled and patted his arm. “I'm glad I could help.”

“I'd hug you, but I'm too filthy.”

Chuckling, she headed down the stairs. “I'll take a rain check.”

“Good thinking.” He nodded to his aunts. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to shower and go to bed.”

Dallas bade him a good night, as did Hypatia and Magnolia. He went to his room and cleaned up. He should have known that Odelia would stop in as soon as he was done with his shower. Feeling defeated and wary, he dressed and went out to speak to her.

Of all the aunties, she was the one he had always found it most difficult to face as a misbehaving boy. Perhaps she wasn't the brightest of the triplets, but Odelia radiated an innocence and goodness that endeared her to the whole family.

Not for anything in the world would he ever tell her how he had taken advantage of a woman—or how deeply it had hurt to see Carissa's horror when she had realized just who she had been kissing.

* * *

What a heavy beard her nephew had, Odelia mused. She found it a very manly trait. Her sisters found his scruff untidy, but they were less worldly than she was. She, after all, was a
wife.
Besides, she'd always harbored a secret appreciation for a rugged male, and this particular nephew of hers was nothing if not valiant.

Smiling to herself, she watched Phillip towel his thick, dark hair then smooth it with his hands. She saw his exhaustion, felt his impatience and sensed a good deal more.

“I gather that you've had a trying day, Phillip dear.”

He shrugged and reached inside the bathroom to hang the towel. “Tougher for Carissa than me.”

Odelia struggled to contain her smile. So, he was more concerned for Carissa than himself, was he? “How is Carissa now? I understand that she seemed upset when she came in tonight.”

Phillip turned away, but not before Odelia caught the troubled expression on his face. “I, um, haven't talked to her since we got back. I thought I'd give her some time. She's been through so much. Do you know about her sister?”

“I do,” Odelia said. “It's no secret.”

Her parents had gone through an ugly divorce, after which Carissa had stayed with her dad. Lyla, who was younger, had bounced back and forth from her mother to her father, always feeling that she was being made to choose between them, until she'd run away at sixteen.

“It's been nine years,” Phillip confirmed, “and in all that time, there have apparently been only a few cards, none with return addresses. Lyla probably doesn't even know that her father is dead.”

Odelia sighed. “How sad.”

“And that's just the beginning,” Phillip went on, telling his aunt how Carissa's husband had died, leaving her and the children in a financial fix. Odelia clucked her tongue. “And now she's essentially homeless.”

“Well, she is not without friends or family,” Odelia pointed out. “Be sure she knows you're praying for her.”

He gave her a limp smile. “I don't think that would mean much to her, Aunt Odelia, and I'm not sure God wants to hear from me anyway.”

Her jaw dropped. Not want to hear from him? “God always wants to hear from His children.”

“But if God is omniscient, He already knows what we need,” Phillip argued. “He doesn't need to hear us bleating about it.”

“
If?
Of course He knows what we need. That doesn't mean our prayers don't matter to Him.”

Phillip blinked. “Still, He must value your prayers more than mine. I mean, as Christians go, I'm barely average.”

“Do you really think that's what matters? That God chooses favorites and only listens to them? Tell me, whose communication would Marshall have most coveted? Carissa, who stayed close to him, or Lyla?”

Phillip reasoned aloud, “Well, he'd have valued Carissa's words because she was so good to be there for him. She stuck by him when Lyla didn't, so he'd naturally have valued Carissa's presence and conversation. But he'd have been thrilled to hear from Lyla because she was his daughter, too, and he had to miss her, so...” Shamefaced, Phillip blushed. “Both. He'd have coveted communication from both of them, which means that God must value communication from His wayward children as much as His obedient children.”

Odelia reached up to rub her palm against that manly scruff on his cheek. “I think we have been patient with you too long, dear boy.” He tilted his head in question, and she dropped her hand, squaring her shoulders. “Tomorrow is Wednesday. I will expect you to attend the midweek prayer service tomorrow evening with us.”

Phillip began shaking his head. “Aunt Odelia, I'm not ten years old, you know.”

She raised a hand, palm out. “Spare me. Or humor me. Whatever it takes.” She lifted her chin, saying, “You will recall the date, please.”

He frowned, then a light dawned in his eyes. “Your wedding anniversary.”

“And therefore, you will gift me with your regular attendance, henceforth, at prayer meeting.”

Sighing, Phillip nodded. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the center of her forehead. She barely managed not to wrinkle her nose. Perhaps the manly scruff was not so thrilling as she'd imagined, and perhaps any romance between Carissa and her nephew was wishful thinking. It hardly mattered. The most important thing was that her nephew's eyes be opened to an important truth.

Perhaps his Heavenly Father would hear from him this very night. And maybe, just maybe, it would be the beginning of an ongoing conversation that would direct the rest of Phillip's life.

Chapter Seven

S
liding the tray of dirty dinner dishes onto the dumbwaiter floor, Carissa marveled again at the old-fashioned but highly useful convenience. The little elevator certainly made life easier in a house this size. She wondered why more homes didn't use them. Then again, how many residences of this size even existed?

After sending the tray and its contents down to the butler's pantry, she intended to quietly gather the children and slip downstairs with them to wash the dishes. As much as she wanted to avoid running into Phillip, she refused to leave the mess for Hilda. It was bad enough that Hilda now cooked for them, along with the rest of the household. She wouldn't make additional work for her aunt by leaving the cleaning for her, too.

She sent the dirty dishes on their way and turned back toward the suite, only to find Phillip standing behind her.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

She'd stayed inside all day just to avoid this very encounter. And to work, of course. Work was the excuse she'd given for not going downstairs for meals and for not joining Dallas and the children in the pool earlier this evening. It was perfectly legitimate. She'd made dozens of calls; she'd even reached her sales quota for the day—and avoided this very encounter. Until now.

“It won't take long,” he promised, adding, “I have to leave for prayer meeting soon.”

Carissa nodded, trying not to notice how nice he looked cleanly shaved and dressed in slim, dark slacks and a loose, pale olive shirt. Folding her arms, she leaned a shoulder against the paneled wall and noticed that he wore his loafers without socks. For some reason, that made her smile.

“I'm sorry about that kiss,” he said softly, moving closer.

Just what every woman wanted to hear from the guy she'd awakened to find kissing her.

“I shouldn't have done it,” he went on in a husky voice, “but you were so irresistible, all sleepy and sweet and mussed.” He backed up a step, clearing his throat.

Carissa chanced a glance upward, her heart in her throat. Irresistible? Her? Not on her best day had anyone described her as irresistible, let alone after a long hot day of hard manual labor. Any irritation she'd felt melted away like water droplets on a hot griddle. She tried to find something compelling to say and came up with “Oh.”

He took her hand in both of his and said, “I don't want there to be any misunderstanding between us. I like you. I like you a lot.” Her spirits literally soared—until he said, “But...”

Yeah, there was always a “but.”

She snatched her hand free of his as he explained, “I'm not the right man for a woman like you.”

“A woman like
me?
” she said. “A woman with kids, you mean.”

“I can't even provide for myself,” he went on. “How can I take care of a family?”

It was what she'd expected, of course, but the words hit her a reeling blow, nonetheless.

“Who asked you to?” she snapped.

“I know, I know,” he said soothingly, “but there's no in-between with a woman like you. There's either friendship or marriage.”

“That's right,” she told him, lifting her chin.

She barely heard him as he prated on about her finer qualities. Individual words snagged briefly in her mind then floated away:
admiration, gumption, attraction....
She heard the sound of his voice as he denigrated himself. He was irresponsible, selfish, immature. It was all nonsense, so she paid it no heed. Perhaps he wasn't conventional or predictable, but he'd taken responsibility for the needs of her and her children, at least in the short term, with no thought to his own personal comfort. As for immaturity, one man's maturity was another's tedium. No, what he really meant was that he didn't,
couldn't,
love her. Perhaps because she had too many children. Perhaps because she just wasn't enough for him to get past that.

Gradually, she became aware of an ache in the center of her chest. Shifting, she put her back to the wall and balled her hand into a fist, pressing it against that ache. Finally, she heard him say, “So, friends, then?”

Relieved that he had come to the end of what had been a painful monologue, she nodded dully and managed to reply, “Sure.”

He blew out a breath. “Good. I'm glad.”

“You're ready to go. Excellent.”

Both Carissa and Phillip turned their attention in the direction of the Chatam sister who had arrived on the scene. Odelia stood near the end of the landing at the head of the stairs, her arm linked with that of her husband. She wore an ivory dress and a large fabric flower in her fluffy white hair. A corsage of roses and camellias had been pinned to her shoulder.

“We'd love for you to join us, Carissa,” Odelia said. She patted Kent's arm lovingly. “It's our first wedding anniversary, and we'll be hosting a little celebration after prayer meeting.”

Grinning, Kent touched the tip of his nose to hers, and she giggled, making the ropes of diamonds dangling from her earlobes swing.

“I—I didn't know,” Carissa apologized. “Um, congratulations.”

“Thank you, but you couldn't have known. You're all welcome to join us.”

“I'm so sorry, but no. I've already bathed the children and gotten them ready for bed. We're just going to clean up our dinner dishes and turn in.”

“Oh, what a pity,” Odelia said, tilting her head. “Well, Chester said you wouldn't much be in the mood for a party yet. He and Hilda are going to pass on the party and just stop in for cake. I know! We'll see to it that Hilda saves you all some cake.”

“That's very kind,” Carissa began, thinking that the children would be bouncing off the walls if they consumed any extra sugar. “I try to limit the children's sweets.”

“So they'll really love it,” Phillip assured his aunt indulgently.

Carissa shot him a look, but he merely lifted an eyebrow. Odelia turned then for the stairs, directing her husband and nephew to follow. “Come along. Don't want to be late.”

Phillip gave Carissa a helpless shrug as he obediently trailed his aunt and uncle.

“We'll pray for you, dear!” Odelia called as they disappeared down the stairs.

Carissa let her head fall back against the wall. She needed all the prayer she could get, if only because she was jealous of an elderly couple celebrating their first wedding anniversary.

* * *

The restaurant in the refurbished hotel in downtown Buffalo Creek provided a sumptuous setting for the anniversary celebration. Phillip toasted his giggling auntie and her beaming husband with a glass of soda and ate anniversary cake baked by Hilda but served by the restaurant staff. Quite a few people did the same, mostly family but also several friends. Phillip surprised himself by feeling like a fifth wheel. Everyone but him seemed to be paired up. Even Dallas arrived with a date, the same guy whom she'd sat next to during prayer meeting, Evan something, who looked as if he'd never done anything more strenuous than tie his shoelaces. Phillip discounted him as a serious presence in his sister's life the moment he met the man, but that didn't make him feel any less alone.

For the first time, he didn't quite know how to go forward on his own. Tonight at prayer meeting, he had found himself silently asking God to direct him. Spying his brother across the room, he wandered in that direction and minutes later had arranged to visit Asher in his law offices again next morning.

“Anything specific on your mind this time?” Asher asked.

Thinking about his conversation with Carissa earlier, Phillip made himself say, “Well, I'm ready to talk about that job now.” So he wasn't what she needed right now. But that didn't mean that he couldn't ever be what she needed, not if he worked at it, did it?

Asher didn't exactly smile, but his face lightened. “Okay. I'll see what I can do.”

Phillip wandered around the reception for a while longer, until he could hug Odelia and Kent, wish them happiness again and take his leave. He felt ridiculously lonely and as antsy as a beetle on a hot plate. He'd have gone for a long run in Seattle, but it was too hot for that here. He decided to swim laps in the pool at Chatam House, but after he climbed the stairs there, he couldn't make himself walk past Carissa's door.

He saw light coming from under the door, so he took a chance and tapped. She answered the door in her bare feet, wearing baggy shorts and an oversize T-shirt. She'd caught her hair in a loose ponytail just below her left ear, and he wondered why she never seemed to let it down.

“I thought you'd be asleep by now,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“I've been working,” she said, leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb.

He frowned. “You're making calls at this time of night?” It was nearly ten o'clock.

“No, no. It's a side job.”

He shook his head, then his curiosity got the better of him. “What sort of side job?”

She waved him into the room and padded over to the sofa. Sinking down onto the cushions, she lifted a notebook computer onto her lap. He sat down beside her and leaned in to look over her shoulder. The computer screen was gray with white and black characters. None of it made the least bit of sense.

“It's just gobbledygook.”

“That gobbledygook translates into...” She made a series of keystrokes, and the screen transformed. “This.” A sleek website popped up, complete with interactive graphics and pages of information, products and instructional videos. “We're adding widgets, phone apps and such.”

“You can do that?”

“When I can get the work, I can do it.”

He reached around her and scrolled through the site. “This is way cool.”

“This is what I do,” she said dismissively, closing the laptop and setting it aside.

She put her head back and craned her neck, relieving strain on her muscles, then covered a yawn with the back of one hand. “Sorry. Long day.”

Phillip desperately wanted to put up his feet, loop his arm about her and snuggle, but he got the message. Their fledgling friendship wouldn't support that right now. She wanted him to go.

Reluctantly, he got to his feet, smiled and headed to the door, saying, “I won't keep you.”

He was halfway across the room when she asked, “How was the party?”

Stopping, he turned back to answer. “Festive. Very festive.”

She clasped her hands atop her knees. Very shapely knees. “Good.”

He really should go. Instead, he said, “Prayer meeting was good.” Oddly, he meant it.

“That's...that's nice.”

Suddenly, he needed to tell her what he was thinking, needed to know what she thought. He took a step forward. “I didn't want to go. I just did it to please my aunt. I'm not even sure... That is, do you think God hears our prayers?”

Carissa seemed surprised. “Well, yes. Yes, of course.”

“What I mean is, do you think He
wants
to hear our petty personal problems, our everyday, normal...junk?”

She obviously had to think about it. “I—I do. Yes.”

“So, then, you think He answers those prayers, too?”

She nodded, then she bit her lip. “I used to. I mean, I do, but I guess I started doubting. I think I started to wonder if maybe He wasn't really listening anymore.”

“I know what you mean,” Phillip said, lifting a hand to the back of his neck. “When I was a boy, I didn't doubt that God heard or answered my silly little prayers, but as I got older, I started to wonder why He would bother.”

“Why do we stop believing that He hears us?” Carissa asked. “Is it because we get beat up by life and think He's abandoned us?”

“Or do we just get so busy that we kind of forget,” Phillip proposed, “and we start to think that we're small and unimportant and that we don't count?”

“I don't know,” she said, “but before long it's like that cousin we lost touch with or the sister we haven't heard from in years.”

“I know what you mean,” Phillip told her. “You start to think, ‘Oh, they don't want to hear from me anymore.' But they do, don't they?”

“I think so,” Carissa said. “At least, I think God wants to hear from us.”

“Me, too,” Phillip said. He hadn't thought so before, but he did now. Tonight, there in that room full of praying people, he had felt a part of something larger than himself and yet distinctly individual, as if God had singled him out.

“Sometimes I do wonder, though,” Carissa admitted.

Phillip shook his head, suddenly quite sure, about her, at least. “No. Don't. God does want to hear our prayers. He wants to hear your prayers. I know He does.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because you are important,” he told her. “You are important, Carissa. You're one of the most important people I've ever known. And if you ever doubt that, you just go look at those three kids in there.” He jerked his head at the doorway to the bedroom hall, as certain as he'd ever been about anything in his life.

She stared at that doorway and smiled. Phillip walked out of the suite and went to his room, aware as never before of all that was missing in his own life. And why was that? Because he'd never had the time for such things before? Because he'd been too selfish and too wrapped up in his grand adventures to think of anything real and permanent?

Or because he simply hadn't met Carissa Hopper yet?

* * *

Asher phoned before seven the next morning to say that he'd set up a job interview for Phillip. Obviously, he'd called in a favor, probably the night before. Phillip obediently put on his best—okay, only—suit, said a stilted prayer and went to meet with the CEO of Sellers Financial Services.

Chuck Sellers was a nice fellow, about Asher's age and type. A businessman and professional through and through, in his mid to late forties, he looked fit and well-groomed, young despite the graying hair, the sort who had graduated college with a ten-year plan and stuck to it. In other words, he was Phillip's opposite in almost every way.