that?”
“What sort of problems does Stephen have with his team exactly?”
Aaron clapped a hand to the nape of his neck uneasily. “Why do you ask?”
The answer came to her only as it was falling out of her mouth. “So I can pray for him. An informed prayer is often more powerful than a vague one.”
“Huh. I wondered just how that worked,” Aaron said. “I mean, isn’t God supposed to know everything already?”
“Absolutely, He does. Prayer is not for His sake. It’s not as if we have to remind Him about what’s going on in this world,” she explained. “Prayer is for us. It’s a tool for our benefit.”
Aaron Doolin nodded his head, his lips curling up at one corner. “Okay, I can get behind that. So, lay it on the Big Guy, if you want. Most specifically, you can ask Him not to let the team cut or trade our boy. Not that I think they will for sure. It’s just that there’s this good-conduct clause in his contract, see, and, well, if they wanted to be sticklers about it…” He sighed, braced himself with a hand placed flat atop the work island and crossed his feet at the ankles. “It’s like this, see.
About five years ago, when he first came into the league, there was this drunk-driving accident.”
“Oh, dear,” Kaylie said, dismayed. She almost wished she hadn’t asked.
“Hey, Stevie was young and celebrating the fact that he’d finally made the big league. Anyway, he learned his lesson, a stiff one. Truly. Only the club insisted on the clause, and technically…”
“He was drunk when he drove his car through his house,” she surmised softly.
“Technically,” Aaron repeated with some force. “I mean, he was drinking, but he had a couple of buddies drive him home that night, which was the responsible thing to do. Right? If they hadn’t left the car out with the top down and a storm hadn’t blown up all of sudden it wouldn’t have happened.” Aaron spread his hands. “Steve was just parking the car in the garage, not driving. Not really driving.”
Kaylie sighed. If her father ever got wind of this…She didn’t even want to think about it. One of his chief complaints about her brother Chandler’s chosen occupation was the abundance of alcohol surrounding the sport of rodeo. Still, she didn’t want to have to defend Stephen Gallow to her father or even to discuss him at all if she could help it. She didn’t want to have to choose between her father’s approval and taking care of Stephen—mostly because she didn’t know, at this point, which she would, should, choose.
She managed a smile for Aaron. “I understand.”
“Hey, it’s like I keep telling Stevie. As long as the press doesn’t make a big deal of this, it’ll blow over. In the meantime, I’ll be there reminding management just who it was that got the team to the playoffs in the first place.” He smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt, apparently forgetting that he wasn’t wearing a tie, and added, “Little insurance wouldn’t hurt, though. I mean, he could use somebody up there looking out for him, you know?”
She knew. Oh, yes, she knew. But she doubted that Stephen did.
“Thank you for confiding in me, Aaron.”
“Aw, you’re part of the team now, right? The Gallow team.”
Kaylie let her smile speak for her. Flipping her a wave, Aaron sauntered away. Kaylie’s smile faded to a frown of concern as he disappeared from sight.
The Gallow team. What neither Stephen nor Aaron seemed to understand was that it was much more important that they were all on God’s team.
She heard a ding and felt a vibration. Rolling her eyes, she dug into her pocket for the new phone. This time the message read, “Where r u?”
Shaking her head, she typed a simple reply. “Kitchen. You ok?”
“Bored,” read the message he sent back. “Hurry.”
Electing to simply drop the phone into her pocket, she went to find a few books that might, hopefully, appeal to him. Technically, entertaining him was not her job, but representing Christ to him certainly was. She just hoped that she didn’t regret letting him foist this phone on her.
Being in constant contact with Stephen Gallow was bound to turn her world upside down.
The stack of books stood almost a foot tall. Some hard-backs, some paperbacks, Kaylie had chosen them with as much care as her patient’s incessant texting had allowed. Using his one good hand, Stephen went through the offerings skeptically. They included