A Match Made in Texas (3 page)

Though triplets, they were anything but identical personality-wise. Hypatia had been the reigning belle of Buffalo Creek society in her day, as elegant and regal as royalty. It was largely thanks to her that Chatam House had endured into the twenty-first century and adapted to the modern era with its dignity and graceful ambience intact. That she had never
married, or even apparently come close to doing so, puzzled all five of her siblings, including her unmarried sisters.

Magnolia, on the other hand, had never evinced the slightest interest in romance, at least according to Kaylie’s father Hub, Jr., their older brother. Mags had a passion for growing things and spent hours daily in her cavernous greenhouse out back. A tomboy as a girl, she still had little patience with the feminine frills that so entranced her sister Odelia.

Secretly, Kaylie was most fond of Odelia, who was affectionately known by the vast coterie of Chatam nieces and nephews as Auntie Od. With her silly outfits and outlandish jewelry, she always provided a chuckle, but it was her sweet, softhearted, optimistic, almost dreamy approach to life that made her the epitome of Christian love in Kaylie’s mind. Odelia also seemed to be the only one of the sisters who had ever come close to marriage.

“Kaylie, dear, how is the patient?” Hypatia wanted to know as soon as Kaylie sank down upon the chair opposite her.

“Handsome, isn’t he?” Odelia piped up. She’d still wore her Sunday best, a white shirtwaist dotted with pink polka dots. The dots easily measured two inches in diameter, as did the faceted, bright pink balls clipped to her earlobes. Her lipstick mimicked the pink of her dress, creating a somewhat startling display against the backdrop of her pale, plump face and stark white, softly curling hair. Like her sisters and the majority of the Chatams, including Kaylie herself, she had the cleft in her chin.

Kaylie chose to answer Hypatia’s question rather than Odelia’s. “He’s resting now and should do so until dinner. I’ve told Mr. Doolin that he’ll have to bring in something for his dinner. Please thank Hilda for the breakfast tray.”

“Of course, dear,” Odelia crooned. “You know that our Hilda is ever ready to perform charitable acts. Poor man.”

“You don’t have anything else to tell us?” Magnolia asked, eyes narrowing. As usual, Mags wore a dark, nondescript shirtwaist dress, her long, steel-gray braid curving against one shoulder. On any day but Sunday, she might well be shod in rubber boots. Instead, in deference to the Sabbath, she wore penny loafers.

Kaylie knew that she was asking if Kaylie would come to their rescue by agreeing to provide nursing care for their unfortunate guest, but Kaylie was not yet prepared to commit to that. She could not make any promises until she had prayed the matter through and discussed it with her father. The aunts had to understand that.

“It wouldn’t hurt if you checked in on him from time to time this evening,” Kaylie said softly, answering Magnolia’s question as deftly she was able.

“I’ll be glad to look in on the poor boy,” Odelia said brightly.

Hypatia, however, was not so sanguine. She even displayed a little annoyance. “Of course we’ll look in on him, but that young man requires nursing care.”

“He does,” Kaylie admitted, then she took pity on them, adding, “I’ve promised an answer by tomorrow morning.”

Hypatia dipped her chin. Slimmer than her sisters and still clad in the handsome gray silk suit that she’d worn to services that morning, her silver hair coiled into a smooth figure eight at the nape of her neck and pearls glowing softly at her throat, she might have been bestowing favors—or demerits—at court. Kaylie had to bite her tongue to keep from proclaiming that she would take on Stephen Gallow’s care at once, but she knew too well what her father’s reaction to that would be.

“I suppose we’ll see you in the morning, then,” Hypatia said primly.

“As soon as Dad sits down to his breakfast,” Kaylie confirmed with a nod.

“Your father used to make his own breakfast,” Magnolia pointed out with a sniff.

“Yes, I know.” Her father used to do a lot of things that he seemed determined no longer to do. “Now I must get home.” She rose and moved toward the door.

“Thank you for coming by, dear!” Odelia chirped. “Tell brother we’ll have him to dinner soon, why don’t you?”

“I’ll do that,” Kaylie replied, rushing through the foyer. “See you tomorrow.”

She closed the door behind her with a sigh of relief before starting across the porch and down the steps to the boxy little red convertible that waited at the edge of the deeply graveled drive. She really needed some time alone. Her father had no doubt fed himself from the roast and vegetables that she’d left in the Crock-Pot that morning, and her own stomach was too tied in knots to allow her hunger to plague her. The sooner she took this matter to God, however, the sooner she would have her answer. And the sooner God’s plan for them all, Stephen Gallow included, could come to fruition, for a plan He must have. The Almighty always did.

“Such a darling that girl is,” Odelia said with a sigh. “She reminds me a good deal of you, Hypatia.”

“Nonsense,” Hypatia said, sipping from her teacup. “I would never have allowed Hubner to get out of hand as he has.”

Well, that was true, Odelia had to concede. Hypatia never let anything or anyone get out of hand, while Odelia, conversely, seldom had things in hand. Like now. She’d only wanted to help, though. Perhaps she and Kaylie were more alike than she’d realized. Kaylie always sought to please everyone around her all the time. She had allowed Hub to take
advantage of her to the point that she hardly had a life of her own anymore. Odelia bit her bright pink lip.

“Feeling sorry for himself, at his age,” Magnolia grumbled about their brother. “We don’t sit around feeling sorry for ourselves.”

“Oh, but we have each other,” Odelia pointed out.

“Our brother has four adult children, three granddaughters and two great-grandsons,” Hypatia pointed out.

“And he’s been blessed with love twice,” Mags added.

“That’s right!” Odelia said with a happy giggle. Trust her sisters to put everything into proper perspective. “Perhaps he’ll even be blessed a third time!”

“At his age?” Mags snorted, recoiling.

“What has age got to do with it?” Odelia wanted to know. Surely Magnolia wasn’t hinting that romantic love had forever passed them by. Why should that be?

“I hardly think,” Hypatia interceded sternly, “that Hubner will find a third wife in time for Kaylie to decide she isn’t needed by him so she can help us with our…guest.”

Problem,
she had been about to say. But not
their
problem. Oh, no, Stephen Gallow was more rightly Odelia’s problem. Squelching a sigh, she put on a wobbly smile.

“I’m quite sure it will all work out for the best.”

“God willing,” Hypatia inserted. “Be that as it may, it was not well done of you, Odelia, obligating us to take in this…this…”

“Hockey player,” Magnolia supplied, her tone leaving little doubt that she considered the man a ruffian of the worst sort. Last night’s unhappy contretemps had only confirmed that opinion.

Odelia bowed her head in contrition. Hypatia was right about her obligating the sisters unfairly. But what was she supposed to have done? There she was, sitting in Brooks’s waiting room, having made an appointment for her yearly
physical, when suddenly she’d been swept into his office and told about this poor, injured man who hadn’t a place in the world to go and hardly anyone to care for him. It had sounded so reasonable the way Brooks had explained it all, and when he’d asked it as a personal favor, well, what could she do but say yes? And the payment they’d offered!

Well, of course, the Chatams never accepted payment for kindness, but there was the new single parents’ ministry at the Downtown Bible Church to consider. She’d thought that worthwhile project would welcome a hefty contribution. Still, the sisters had barely settled back into their normal routine after their nephew Reeves had moved from Chatam House, with his bride, Anna, and daughter, Gilli, before along came Mr. Gallow. If only he had not so quickly proven to be such a
presence
in the house.

“I’m sure God will work it all out for the best,” Odelia offered meekly. “If Kaylie does decide to help us, even Hub will benefit, don’t you think? He’ll have to take up his life again, then. Yes?”

“You could be right,” Hypatia said after a moment.

“I agree,” Magnolia added reluctantly. “But just so you know—” she glared at Odelia “—whatever happens, I, for one, will
not
be emptying any bedpans.”

Odelia felt the color drain from her face. Oh, dear. Surely it wouldn’t come to that. No one could expect them to…Quickly, she set aside her teacup and held out her hands.

“Sisters,” she said earnestly, “I feel the need to pray.”

C
lasping her hands together, Kaylie bowed her head over the evening meal. “Father God, we thank You and praise You on this, Your Sabbath Day,” she prayed. “You have restored Dad’s health and given us lives of comfort and security. Bless Bayard and his family, Morgan and Chandler, the aunts and all our Chatam kin. Turn our minds ever to Your service, Lord, and let us not forget that we serve You only by serving others—which reminds me, Father, of that poor Mr. Gallow whom the aunts have taken in. Heal him, Lord, in such a way as to bring glory to Yourself, so that he is forever aware of Your love and power. Direct our paths, Father, and make Your will known to us, and finally, bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies. These things we pray in the name of Your Holy Son, Jesus the Christ. Amen.”

“Amen,” Hub Chatam echoed.

Dressed simply in black slacks and a white shirt, Hub un-buttoned and rolled back the cuffs of his sleeves before picking up his fork. His thinning hair, a mixture of light brown and ash-gray, seemed at odds with his bushy white eyebrows and dark brown eyes. Pushing up his bifocals with the tip of one finger, he trained those dark eyes on his daughter.

Kaylie had turned the remnants of his lunch into a hearty beef stew for their dinner, serving it with buttered bread and prepackaged salad. She kept her gaze carefully averted, applying herself to her meal. For several moments, silence reigned in the cozy, outdated kitchen, broken only by the clink of flatware. Kaylie could feel the comment coming, however, and finally it arrived.

“You waxed eloquent this evening, Kaylie.”

She smiled. “Did I? Guess that’s what comes of spending time praying.”

“That’s what you were doing this afternoon, sitting out in the backyard in the lawn chair? You were praying?”

Nodding, she scooped up a bite of stew. “Spring is a wonderful time to talk to God out of doors. I couldn’t resist.”

“Little warm for mid-April,” her father muttered.

“Mm. We could be in for a hot summer.”

“When have we not?”

Kaylie chuckled. “True.”

Conversation lagged for a few minutes, and finally they got to the crux of the matter. “Who is this Mr. Gallow you mentioned? I assume he is the reason you dumped me after church and raced off to answer your aunts’ beck and call.”

Kaylie sighed mentally. Her father never used to be snide and self-centered. As a pastor, he had been one of the most caring, giving, selfless men she’d ever known, working long hours in the service of others. He had built Downtown Bible into a thriving, growing community of believers with vibrant worship, Scripturally sound doctrine and effective ministry. After choosing about a decade ago to allow a younger generation to lead the church into a new era, he had stepped aside as senior pastor, but neither the membership nor the new administration had been willing to truly let him go.

At their urging, he had assumed the position of Pastor of Congregational Care. The church’s ministry to the home-
bound and marginalized had expanded significantly under his tutelage. Part of the job had been organizing teams to check on, visit and minister to those sometimes invisible members, but Hubner Chatam had never been a mere administrator, and he’d often spent five, even six, days of every week in the field.

Then her mother, Kathryn, had died, and Hub never quite seemed to recover from her loss, perhaps because he had been widowed once before. The mother of Kaylie’s two older brothers, Bayard and Morgan, had died of an accidental blow to the head when a hammer had fallen from a tall shelf. After losing his second wife, Hub had lost his zeal for ministry—and his zeal for life along with it. Chandler, her only full sibling, maintained that their father had grieved and resented his way into his heart attack. Kaylie only knew that he had become a very unhappy man, so she let go the remark about her “dumping” him.

“The aunts have taken him in as a favor to Brooks,” she said, knowing that the doctor was one of Hub’s favorite people. The good doctor had also lost a wife, to an inoperable brain tumor, and that seemed to have formed a bond between the two men.

Hub put down his fork thoughtfully. “Dr. Leland is not one to impose.”

“No, he isn’t.”

“What’s wrong with this Gallow?”

Kaylie sipped water from the tumbler beside her plate and said, “He was seriously injured in an accident.”

“What sort of accident?”

Kaylie wrinkled her brow. “I don’t think anyone ever said.”

Hub clucked his tongue and shook his head, muttering, “Gallow, Gallow, unusual name. Don’t believe I know any Gallows. Where is he from?”

“Actually,” she answered with some surprise, “I believe he’s originally from the Netherlands.”

“The Netherlands! You don’t say! Dutch then, is he?”

“You wouldn’t know it to hear him speak,” Kaylie said.

“What about his relatives? Surely you spoke with them.”

Folding her hands in her lap, Kaylie shook her head. “Aren’t any. At least, none near enough to help out.”

“Ah. So your aunts, at the urging of Brooks Leland, have opened the family home to him,” Hub deduced, “and now they find him more of a burden than they expected.”

Kaylie nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“And because you’re a nurse they expect you to deal with him.”

“I do seem the logical choice,” Kaylie pointed out.

Hubner waved a hand in agitation. “Do they not realize the level of your responsibilities?”

“I would say that the ‘level of my responsibilities’ is extremely light,” Kaylie told him. “I’ve been thinking, in fact, that it might be time for me to go back to work at the hospital.”

Her father sat back, clearly appalled. “But that would require shift work! You’d be gone all hours of the day and night.”

Kaylie had considered that, and now she quite shamelessly used it. “Hm. Yes, I suppose that’s true. Taking care of Mr. Gallow would be much less time-consuming. His injuries are serious, and his meds must be administered by a professional, but he’s well enough to leave the hospital, at least. A couple hours in the morning, a couple hours in the afternoon and evening…I’d be home every night, free to get you your meals and your pills.”

Hub considered, frowning at her, but eventually he accepted the obvious. Neither of them could, with a clear Christian conscience, say no. Hub grimaced.

“I blame my sisters for this. Once again, their ‘project’ means work for others.”

“Dad!”

“You know it’s true. Oh, I’m sure their hearts are in the right places, but never do their good works consist of labor only for them.” He tossed up a gnarled hand. “Whatever they take on, it always requires teams of volunteers and committees of…committees! They’re never satisfied until the whole of Buffalo Creek is involved. I suppose I should be thankful that we don’t live any closer to Dallas. Imagine what causes they could get embroiled in there.”

Kaylie bit back a smile, partly because he was right. Somewhat. The aunts did tend to take on huge schemes like raising funds for the Buffalo Creek Bible College and the local free clinic. Lately their pet project was one that Hub had once championed himself, ministries and services aimed at single-parent households. The aunts were preparing, as Hypatia put it, to take that initiative to a “whole new level.”

“Maybe Mr. Gallow is more than they can manage on their own,” she said, “but this time it’s just me involved, and I expect to be paid for my expertise.”

“Oh, yes, throw money at the problem,” Hub said, “as if the Chatam well will never run dry. Your brother Bayard has warned them time and again.”

A staunchly conservative banker, Bayard constantly harped on the idea that the aunts, now approaching their mid-seventies,
could
outlive their inheritance, as if they lived profligately. The aunties and most of the rest of the family, including Hub until recently, pretty much just tuned him out.

“You misunderstand. The aunts aren’t paying me, Dad. Mr. Gallow is.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose that if he’s getting free room and board, he can afford to pay for private nursing care.”

Kaylie supposed that he could pay for a lot more than that, but she didn’t say so. Why open the door for questions that she would rather not have to answer? Like where Stephen
Gallow’s money came from, for instance. Having run out of reasons for complaint, at the moment, Hubner went back to his meal, and Kaylie turned her silent thoughts to how best to serve her new patient.

“Good morning.”

Stephen opened his eyes to the now familiar sound of the gentle, slightly husky but decidedly feminine voice. He’d been awake for some time, actually, the throbbing in his bones keeping him still, while he worried about his situation with the team.

The playoffs were now officially under way, and though he had been the goalie to get the team there for the first time in their short history, he had been out of the pipes for nearly two weeks now, with weeks more to go before he could even think about starting rehab. He wasn’t going to see ice time again this season, so should the team actually win the Stanley Cup—a long shot but feasible—his part in the triumph could well be forgotten. Of course, it was entirely possible that, given the good conduct clause in his contract, the team might cut or trade him regardless of what happened in the playoffs, especially if his backup, Kapimsky, proved able to get the job done.

Stephen had expected Aaron, bleary from a night spent in a strange bed, to be the first person he saw this morning, and though he would never admit it, Stephen dearly wanted his agent’s reassurance. Instead, he would have to settle for the ministrations of the new nurse. At least he hoped that she had decided to take the position. He turned his head slightly to find Kaylie Chatam regarding him serenely from the open doorway.

He smiled, for two reasons. One, the petite nurse’s soft red hair hung down her back in a thick, straight tail of pure silk at least as long as his forearm. Secondly, she was dressed for work in shapeless pink scrubs with surfing penguins printed on them.

“In the Netherlands,” he told her, “they say ‘
Goedemorgen
.’”

“Gude morgan, then.”

He tried not to correct her pronunciation, covering his amusement by saying, “Penguins?”

She plucked at the fabric of her loose top, looking down at a penguin tumbling through a cresting wave. “Best I could do. No skates, but at least they’re creatures that are comfortable on the ice.”

He laughed. And regretted it. Squeezing his eyes shut against the sharpened pain, he hissed until it subsided to a more bearable level. When he opened his eyes again, Kaylie Chatam was standing over him, pill bottle in hand.

“Mr. Doolin’s gone down to ask for your breakfast tray. Let’s get these into you so you’ll be up to eating when it’s ready. All right?”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But then I need to get to the bathroom.”

She dropped the pill bottle into one of the cavernous pockets on the front of her smock and slid her small but surprisingly strong hands beneath his arms, helping him into a sitting position on the side of the bed. He tried to bite back the groan that accompanied the action, but the pain was breathtaking. It eased as soon as he was still again. She quickly gave him the pills. After swallowing a pair of them, he was ready to go forward. He shoved up onto his good leg, jaw clamped.

Moving effortlessly into a supportive posture, Kaylie slid her arm up over his back to his shoulder, her own shoulder tucked neatly beneath his arm. Hopping and hobbling, he inched toward the bathroom door. Small bathrooms, he mused a few minutes later, had their good points, as the close confines allowed him to manage for himself. Afterward, the little nurse made a very welcome suggestion.

“Maybe you should eat your breakfast in the sitting room.”

Stephen looked into the sitting room and smiled. Comfortable as it was, the bed had already begun to feel like a prison to him.

“If it’s any inducement,” she went on in a teasing voice, “there’s a large cup of coffee in there.”

Stephen eagerly slung his arm around her shoulders. “Lead me to it.”

Chuckling, she eased him forward. By the time they reached the near end of the sofa, some three or four yards, his head swam. Bracing her feet wide apart and gripping his one good arm, she helped him lower into a sitting position in the corner of the comfortable couch before fetching a small, brocade footstool for his injured leg.

“How’s that?”

He waited until the pain subsided enough that he could get his breath. “Guess I’ll live. What about that coffee?”

While she went to the small writing desk standing against one wall and retrieved a tall, disposable cup with a cardboard sleeve, Stephen looked around him. Oddly elegant paintings that featured game birds, dogs and tools of the hunt from a bygone era covered the walls of the room. In contrast to the antique artwork, he noted, with relieved satisfaction, a flat-screen television hung over the mantel. The old girls didn’t have their heads entirely buried in the past, then. The screen was nowhere near as large as the one in his media room back at the house in Fort Worth, but it would do for watching the playoff games.

Stephen took the coffee container from Kaylie with his good right hand, turning it with the aid of the fingertips of his left to get the drinking slot in the plastic top adequately positioned. Taking a careful sip, he sighed with satisfaction.

“I have cream, if you’d like,” she said, reaching into her pocket once more and drawing out the tiny containers.

“Black is fine.”

Nodding, she parked her hands at her slender hips and glanced around before snapping her fingers and hurrying back into the bedroom. “Hang on.”

Like I’m going anywhere,
he thought wryly. She returned an instant later with one of the bed pillows and a bath towel.

“We’ll have to keep using this as a lap tray until I find one,” she explained, placing the pillow across his lap. She covered both it and his chest with the towel.

He slugged back more of the coffee. It was still hot but thoroughly drinkable, and he moaned in delight as the silky brew flowed down his throat.