Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel) (6 page)

Laney hiked up her long dress and led him to the back of her house and up the steps to her kitchen door, chattering all the way. He was very tall, wasn't he? And Jackson was a fancy name, wasn't it, but he'd been named for his father, hadn't he, so he couldn't go by Jack, could he, because everyone called his father that.

Jackson wasn't a talker, but he didn't object to Laney's garrulousness. He was too stunned by her easy acceptance of a boy everyone knew was no good.

"Mom!" she hollered, grabbing his arm and dragging him, dazed and unresisting, into her kitchen. "Can me and my friend Jeb have some ice cream?"

Jarred by several quick, hard thumps as the jet encountered some air turbulence, Jeb opened his eyes and shifted to a more comfortable position in his seat.

My friend Jeb.

With those three words, she had named him and claimed him. In that life-changing moment, it had ceased to matter that she was a girl, that she was two years younger than he, and that she was adored and protected while he was a
neglected kid on the fast track to juvenile delinquency. On that sunny afternoon, he'd been too paralyzed by wonder to offer any resistance as Laney Ryland blithely branded his heart.

Her mother had accepted him, too. Hannah was a high-school music teacher, so when she discovered Jeb's fascination with her piano, she'd begun giving him lessons. "Such a talent," she would say, shaking her head in apparent awe whenever he played one of his own compositions for her. "Such a remarkable talent."

Jeb leaned sideways in his seat, pressing his forehead against the window to get a better view of the Mississippi River, which reflected the late-afternoon sun like a tangle of brown satin ribbon. Studying its meandering course, he wondered what different turns his life might have taken if Laney hadn't befriended him all those years ago.

She and her mother were Christians, but they'd never preached at him. After he'd made it clear he didn't want to hear about their religion, they had just gone on quietly living out their faith right under his nose.

He'd thought that couldn't affect him, but now he realized God had used Hannah's kindness and Laney's fierce loyalty to prepare his heart for that encounter in Louisville.

He couldn't wait to tell Laney. While he'd become a Christian for his own sake, he also felt that he had finally done something worthy of her. Something that might begin to pay her back for befriending a worthless boy and sticking by him for sixteen years.

The cabin speakers crackled and the flight attendant instructed the passengers to turn off their personal electronic devices in preparation for the landing at Minneapolis-St. Paul. As Jeb returned his iPod to his pocket, he felt his heartbeat quicken in anticipation.

He was almost home.

Reservations were encouraged at the Three Graces Tearoom, but seating walk-ins until four o'clock still allowed Laney to get home by six most days. She wasn't taking any chances on Thursday, however, so she instructed Caroline—the Graces didn't like the formality of being addressed as "Aunt"—to put the Closed sign on the front door thirty minutes early.

By a quarter to six, Laney was darting anxious glances at her watch and trying not to resent the two parties of four that lingered in the dining room. Seated at her desk in a cramped corner of the kitchen, she tapped the keys of her adding machine to tally the day's receipts. When her mind wandered and she made an error, she ripped the tape out of the machine and crumpled it into a tiny ball.

"Laney, go home." At the prep counter, Millie paused in the act of spooning loose tea into a ceramic teapot and blinked through her eye-magnifying glasses like a worried owl. "You want to be there to welcome Jeb, don't you?"

Laney stared at the fist she'd clenched around the ruined tape. She'd been on edge all day, tormented by a feeling that some unwelcome change was in the air. She was eager to see Jeb, but she was worried about whatever was behind his sudden "need" to come home.

"I guess I could leave this for Caroline," she said. She hated asking the Graces to do extra work, but today was special.

"We'll take care of everything." Millie lifted a kettle off a gas burner and poured steaming water into the teapot. "You go on. The day we can't finish loading a dishwasher and make a bank deposit will be the day we check into a nursing home."

"Yes, go on." Striding into the kitchen, Caroline made shooing motions with her hands. "You're not doing any good here, anyway. Instead of refilling the
creamer for Table Three, you took them an extra sugar bowl. And that chicken salad you made for tomorrow? After you put it in the fridge, I found your diced apples and celery in a bowl on the counter."

"Oh." Laney dropped the ball of paper into the wastebasket next to her desk. "Did you—"

"Well, of course. I fixed everything."

"Thank you." Laney propped an elbow on her desk and rested her chin on her hand.

"Go home." The eldest of the triplets, Caroline had a mile-wide bossy streak, but Laney adored her. "We'll finish up here."

"We sure will," Millie said sweetly. While Caroline's love was often concealed behind a gruff façade and
Aggie's
was frequently camouflaged with humor, Millie was openly affectionate. "It's for times like this that the good Lord gave you aunts."

"
Great
-aunts," Caroline corrected.

"As opposed to ordinary, run-of-the-mill aunts," Aggie quipped as she entered the kitchen carrying a tray of dirty dishes. She caught Laney's eye and winked. "Or even pretty good aunts."

"You're the best aunts anybody ever had." Standing to push her arms into a sand-colored wool cardigan Millie had knitted for her, Laney added, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

That was the truth, and it was something she'd been thinking about a lot lately. The Graces were getting old, so unless Laney married, she'd soon be left with no family at all. She could hardly count her father, a man she had never laid eyes on.

"We slipped a white envelope into your bag earlier," Caroline said. "It's a welcome-home gift for Jeb."

Laney darted a questioning look at Aggie, who said, "Hockey tickets," out of the side of her mouth.

"For the Minnesota Wild?" Laney asked hopefully.

Millie beamed at her. "Is there any other team?"

"Not in Jeb's opinion. He'll be thrilled." She just hoped the game was soon, because Jeb never stayed in town much longer than a week.

"The other ticket is for you, of course," Millie said. "And you won't believe how good the seats are."

"Thank you. We haven't been to a Wild game in ages."

"You run along now," Caroline commanded. "It's almost six, and if his plane landed on time, he'll be home any minute."

Laney scooped her keys off the desk. "Okay, I'm gone." She puckered her lips and sent each of her great-aunts an air kiss before heading to the door.

She couldn't wait to see him. But as she drove home, she began to worry again. Why had he sounded so beaten down last night? He was always physically and emotionally drained after one of those demanding concert tours, but even then, he'd never sunk into depression. In fact, Jeb was the most stoical person she had ever seen. When troubles came his way, he never uttered a word of protest. He just accepted them as part of life. So why had he sounded so desperate last night?

Laney, I needed to hear your voice.

The band's heading back to L.A., but I need to come home.

Stopping for a red light, she promised herself that one way or another, she'd get to the bottom of things this very evening.

She was equally determined to discover why he'd been out of touch for so long
,
and why he seemed to be making so little effort to preserve the amazing friendship they had shared for sixteen years.

O
n both sides of I-35, vast oceans of pale yellow corn churned in the gusting wind as Jeb hurtled through southern Minnesota in a rented Ford Explorer. A long skein of Canada geese flew across the road, low enough that Jeb, with his window partway down, could hear them honking encouragement at one another.

Jeb was feeling encouraged, too.

Nearing his journey's end, he eased off the interstate to make a quick stop at a grocery store. As he placed his purchase on the counter and reached for the wallet in his hip pocket, habit made him scan the cartons in the cigarette display case. Fortunately, the store appeared to be out of his brand.

Back in the Explorer, he made for Cedar Avenue, which took him past the grain elevator towering beside the railroad tracks and just two blocks later, delivered him to downtown Owatonna.

Stopping for a red light, he cast an admiring glance at the magnificent stained-glass window gracing the front of the National Farmer's Bank Building. Designed over a century ago by the great architect Louis Sullivan, the world famous sandstone edifice was still widely acknowledged as the most beautiful small-town bank in America.

Turning left on Broadway, he glimpsed the band shell in pocket-size Central Park and recalled the free concerts he'd attended there with Laney during their growing-up years. How many sweet summer evenings had he lounged beside her on the springy grass next to the hundred-year-old fountain, licking ice cream cones and slapping mosquitoes off his bare arms as the stars came out one by one?

At last he reached Mulberry Street. The fourth house on the left, a picture-perfect Queen Anne painted slate blue and trimmed in white, was his, but Jeb barely gave it a glance. It was the neat brick two-story next door that absorbed his attention.

Laney was inside that house, and she was waiting for him.

Knowing her car would be in his garage and not wanting to block her access, Jeb swung into her driveway, which was separated from his by just a few feet. A couple of years ago, he'd finally convinced her not to evict poor Francine from his garage every time he brought home a rental car.

As he rolled to a stop in front of the dormant shrub roses hugging Laney's garden shed, he saw her kitchen door fly open.

And then there she was, leaping down the steps and running toward him, arms flung wide, her butter-colored curls streaming behind her like flags of welcome.

She hadn't changed out of her tearoom outfit, a below-the-knee floral print dress with a wool cardigan and the penny loafers she called sensible. Jeb had always thought the old-fashioned attire sweetly feminine and wholly appealing. But he tended to feel that way about any outfit that had Laney inside it.

He tossed his Twins cap onto the dashboard and made it only halfway out of the Explorer before Laney slammed into him.

Chuckling, he nudged her back so he could get both feet under him. Then he leaned down and wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek on top of her head. Inhaling the flowery fragrance of her hair, he closed his eyes against the fierce relief that gripped his heart.

He allowed himself five full seconds to enjoy holding her, and then he called on the self-discipline he'd been honing for years and began the complicated process of withdrawing. He was as intent as any tightrope walker on finding his perfect balance
. T
oo loose or too brief a hug might hurt her feelings, while holding her too
tightly or for too long might reveal what he'd worked so hard to keep hidden from her.

He knew he'd gauged it just right, because she squeezed him hard, and then she let go and backed up, chattering the way she often did when she was excited. Jeb crossed his arms and leaned against the SUV, happily soaking up the sight and sound of her.

Her eyes were still as blue as the deepest autumn sky, her skin as pale and perfect as fresh cream. Her front teeth were a little crooked, but she had an enchanting smile—not that she had ever believed that. Laney actually thought of herself—looks, brain, and personality—as
ordinary
.

Still talking, she linked her arm with Jeb's and tried to haul him into her house. He resisted long enough to grab the plastic grocery bag off the passenger seat. Then he was hers, content to follow wherever she led, just as he had been since the day she'd gifted him with her friendship and a name of his very own.

She emitted a squeal of delight and snatched the bag from him. "Cherry Vanilla?"