Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel) (8 page)

BOOK: Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel)
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Jeb gestured impatiently with his spoon. "He can't blame the Graces for that."

By all accounts, the triplets had doted on Ted Ryland, the son of their deceased brother. On learning that Hannah was expecting a baby, the Graces had offered their nephew a wad of cash to pay off his debts and feather his growing family's nest. But Ryland had taken the money and skipped town with a female coworker.

He had never returned to Owatonna, although he'd had the colossal nerve to phone the Graces two or three times in the intervening years. No doubt he'd been hoping to squeeze some more money out of them.

Ryland was aware that he had a daughter. He just didn't care.

The familiar outrage rose like bile in Jeb's throat, but then he remembered something he'd read in the Bible, something about not being so quick to cast stones at other sinners, and he was ashamed. Were his own transgressions any less egregious than Ted Ryland's?

"The Graces still feel bad about giving him that money, but they couldn't have known what was on his mind." Laney shook her head in disgust at her father's defection. "How a man could do that to any woman, let alone someone as sweet as Mom, I'll never understand."

Jeb longed to say that he didn't understand it, either. But the awful truth was that he did understand how a man could walk away from a woman he'd impregnated. If the man was selfish enough, he could do that.

And even worse.

"At least Mom had the Graces," Laney said softly. "In the beginning, they helped her financially. And of course they made sure I never missed having a father."

"I know." The Graces could be as irritating as a trio of tone-deaf Karaoke singers, but their faithful support of Laney and her mom had secured Jeb's undying gratitude.

He'd noticed right off that Tom Johansen didn't understand Laney's deep attachment to her great-aunts. He might have dropped the guy a hint, but no man who loved Laney the way she deserved would have needed any urging to accept the Graces as part of the package.

Shaking his head over Tom's colossal stupidity, Jeb excavated a plump cherry half and left it on the surface of the ice cream where Laney would find it.

"So what about the other guy?" he asked.

"Nathan?" Frowning, she scooped up the cherry. "He gave me a beautiful ring, Jeb, and everything was so romantic. But he's the new guy at his law firm, and he's working hard to impress the partners, so he wanted to wait a few years before starting a family. And he only wanted one baby, although he said we could talk about having two."

"That was generous of him," Jeb said dryly. So Nathan was an idiot, too. How had he failed to notice the way Laney's face lit up whenever she spotted a baby?

"I told him I wanted a big family." The corners of her mouth trembled as she tried to smile. "And he said some nasty things about me wanting to marry him to get children rather than because I was in love."

Jeb's body went rigid. Who did that jerk think he was, talking to Laney that way? "And you said
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
?"

"That he was right." She hung her head. "But honestly, Jeb, I didn't realize it until that moment. And now I feel just awful about the whole thing."

Jeb released the breath he'd been holding. At least the guy hadn't broken her heart.

"Laney, he wasn't the right man for you. It's good you found that out before it was too late."

"I know." She shoveled a large bite of ice cream into her mouth.

Nobody seeing her slumped over a tub of ice cream and mining greedily for cherries would ever guess she'd completed an online etiquette course and occasionally gave talks on table manners to women's groups and school kids. But then, she never showed this side of herself to anyone but Jeb. She took for granted that he'd keep this secret just as he'd kept all of the others—and she was right, he would. But a little judicious teasing might lighten her mood.

"Should an etiquette consultant be eating ice cream straight from the carton?" he asked conversationally.

She rapped his knuckles with the back of her cold, sticky spoon. "Calling attention to the imperfect manners of one's dining companion is the height of rudeness," she said primly.

"Is it?" Rubbing his abused knuckles, Jeb feigned confusion. "Then why are you correcting me?"

She chuckled, and for an instant he thought he'd succeeded in cheering her up, but then her smile flattened again.

"I'm just no good at romance. I mean, look how I messed up with Tom and Nathan." She sighed. "And let's not forget Luke."

Oh, he hadn't forgotten the veterinarian who'd strung her along for the better part of a year, telling her he loved her but wasn't ready to think about marriage. If
Jeb had been in Owatonna when Laney discovered the man she loved was seeing her close friend Megan behind her back, he'd have broken the jerk's nose.

"I feel so stupid." Laney shook her head sadly. "Why do I keep falling for men who are completely wrong for me?"

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You're lonely, that's all."

The thought of her marrying always made Jeb's stomach hurt. But she was a loving, giving, family-oriented woman and she deserved to be happy.

"It's more than simple loneliness, Jeb. I think there must be something wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you." He pushed another cherry toward her. "You just haven't found the right guy yet."

"What if I never find him?"

"You're only twenty-five." Jeb infused his tone with a hint of impatience. "Give it time."

"You don't understand," she muttered.

He was trying to. So hard that he inadvertently allowed some extremely foolish words to slip out of his mouth.

"Tell you what. I'll help you find a husband."

Laney's gloomy expression morphed into one of wry amusement. "Oh, thank you. I'd dearly love to marry a tattooed, stringy-haired drummer who wears muscle shirts and drinks tequila straight from the bottle."

Jeb's lips twitched because she had just described Skeptical Heart's Taylor Benson, whom she had never met.

"I appreciate the thought," she went on, looking forlorn again. "But can you honestly see me with any of the guys you associate with?"

"Of course not," he said repressively. He hoped she would never guess just how much effort he expended to protect her innocence. He had even instructed his
band's booking agents to avoid any venue within a three-hour drive of Owatonna, ensuring that she would never attend one of his shows and expect to go backstage and meet the band. Sweet Laney had no business anywhere near those rowdy, profane guys.

"I see you with a good Christian man," he said. Not a confused, just-barely-saved guy like himself, but a strong, confident man. One who was worthy of her admiration and love. "And I'm going to help you find one."

Just as soon as he figured out where to start looking.

Laney arched her tawny eyebrows. "Meet a lot of good Christian men in your line of work, do you, rock star?"

Jeb blinked at the bitter, mocking tone that was as foreign to her nature as the self-pity she'd displayed a minute ago. What was wrong with her? His instincts told him it was something far more serious than a little depression over her latest disappointment in love.

"Talk to me, Laney." He slipped a hand under her silky hair to cup the back of her neck and squeeze some encouragement into her. "What's going on with you, hmm?"

She bowed her head, hiding her eyes beneath a mass of flaxen curls. "Since Mom's been gone everything just seems so hard," she said quietly. "And lately I
 
.
 
.
 
." She shook her head and drew a shuddery breath.

Jeb moved his hand, tucking his knuckles under her chin to lift her face. Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked everywhere but at him.

"What is it, princess?" He'd fix it for her or die trying.

"I'm having a crisis of faith," she blurted, looking miserable and embarrassed.

"A crisis of
 
.
 
.
 
." Jeb dropped his hand and struggled to process his shock. "What do you mean?"

With a visible effort, she composed herself. "You know I've always tried to be a good Christian. But lately I've been feeling
 
.
 
.
 
. abandoned."

Abandoned? If God could stomach a reprobate like Jackson Bell, he'd sure never turn his back on anyone as good as Laney.

"I don't understand," Jeb said.

"I know." Her gaze skittered away again and she nibbled her thumbnail, an old nervous habit she'd outgrown years ago. "But I can't explain it to you, Jeb. It's something only another Christian could understand."

He opened his mouth, but then shut it again. If he told her he'd just joined God's team, she'd want to talk about that instead of whatever was wrong in her life. And something was very wrong.

"I haven't been to church in two months," she said around her thumb. "I thought about going last Sunday, but I'm ashamed to show my face after staying away so long."

It was a good thing she wasn't looking at him, because Jeb wasn't sure his carefully arranged features were adequately concealing the dismay that had just steamrolled his spirit.

A crisis of faith. How on earth was he, a clumsy and clueless brand-new believer, going to help her through this?

He'd been looking forward to sharing his good news. He'd been counting on her to answer his questions and then hustle him off to church, where she'd get him signed up for the crash courses in Christian Living and Basic Goodness and so on.

But she was having a crisis of faith.

"I don't want to talk about this right now," she said.

That was a relief. Jeb just hoped that given time to ponder all of this, his beleaguered brain would come up with a plan.

"So how's the band?" Laney's chirpy tone was as artificial as her sudden smile, but Jeb didn't call her on it. When she was ready to talk, he'd listen. She knew that.

He was struggling to compose a truthful yet necessarily vague answer to her question when she spoke again, unwittingly letting him off the hook.

"You look worn out. What have you been up to?"

That, at least, he could explain. "We just did a six-week tour with only five days off," he said, watching as she slipped another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. "We had sellout crowds at almost every venue."

She nodded, absorbing that without comment. She was fiercely proud of his musical ability, but profanity-laced, sexually suggestive songs made her uncomfortable, so Jeb could hardly expect her to root for his band's success.

They never discussed it, but she had to know he wrote and performed that hard-edged music to vent the nameless fury that had swirled inside him for as long as he could remember. Being with Laney soothed his savage heart, but every time he'd left the calm sphere of her influence, he had reverted to his wild ways.

He longed to tell her things would be different now, but that would have to wait.

"I came home for a rest," he said, hoping God would overlook a half-truth told in a good cause. He'd have to dig through his stolen Bible and see what he could find out about that.

"You were more than just tired last night," she said. "You were depressed." When he opened his mouth to speak, she shook her head at him. "And don't tell me I just imagined it. I
know
you, Jeb."

"All right." He had to give her something, or she'd never stop probing. "This past week has been
 
.
 
.
 
. difficult."

Sympathy wrinkled her brow. "Problems on the tour?"

He confirmed that with a brief nod, because it was perfectly true, wasn't it? Shari
Daltry
had been pressing him to deny his new faith, and last night Matt, Sean, Aaron, and even easygoing Taylor had glared at him with homicide in their hearts.

Laney touched his arm. "Tell me," she urged in that honey-sweet voice that was always so hard to resist.

"I will," he promised. "But later, okay?"

"You have dark circles under your eyes," she complained in her gentle way. "And you're too thin." She smoothed his hair back from his forehead, just as her mother might have done.

If only Hannah were here right now. She'd grab both of them by the scruffs of their necks and haul them to church and get them straightened out. But Hannah wasn't here, so Jeb would just have to do the best he could.

Laney returned her attention to the ice cream, digging deep and muttering something about Jeb hogging the cherries.

Ignoring that unfair accusation, he tapped his spoon against his bottom lip, thinking hard. Finally, a memory stirred.

"Laney?" He struggled to conceal his excitement. "Doesn't your church have some kind of singles' group?"

BOOK: Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel)
7.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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