A Match Made in Texas- By Arlene James Page 0,50
just is what it is, and we have to deal with it as best we can.”
“We were dealing very well, I thought, until you took this job,” Hub grumbled, pulling out his chair.
“Were we?” Kaylie asked, divesting herself of the oven mitts. “Were we really dealing well?”
He set his jaw mulishly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Kaylie sighed, pulled out her chair and sat down, choosing her words carefully. “Lately I’ve realized that we’ve been locked away inside this house for too long. We still have ministries to perform.”
Hub took his seat, his mouth a thin, severe line. “I devoted my life to ministry.”
“Dad, you speak as if your life is over!”
“That part of my life is, given my age and health.”
“You could live another twenty or thirty years. Just look at Grandpa Hub. He was ninety-two when the Lord took him home and still overseeing his investments and charities from his wheelchair.”
A look of such bleakness overcame her father that Kaylie wanted to weep. She reached for his hand. Though gnarled and pale, it still felt strong to her. Only his spirit, it seemed, was weak.
“You may be content to putter around your garden and sit in your chair for the next twenty years, Dad,” Kaylie said softly. “You are certainly entitled to, but I am young and healthy, and the only thing I know without any doubt about myself right now is that I am called to nursing.”
“But are you called to nurse this particular man?” Hub asked, gripping her hand hard.
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation, a little shocked that she did not have to mull that over first, especially considering her mixed feelings and many hours of prayer on the matter.
Hub released her. “I am not so sure. You’re alone with him too much. He’s too young and pushy. We know nothing about him. He—”
“He’s gravely injured and cannot manage on his own,” Kaylie interrupted, folding her hands in her lap and bowing her head. “Will you pray over our food or shall I?”
Hub cleared his throat, and Kaylie prepared herself for a long, sermonizing monologue of the sort to which Hub had only rarely resorted during his career as a preacher. Instead, he quickly asked for a blessing on the food and left it there. Grateful for that, Kaylie tried to be as pleasant as possible throughout the meal and into the evening, though her mind never wandered far from Stephen and how he might be doing.
She felt terrible guilt for leaving Stephen there on his own—and terrible guilt at the idea of leaving her father to go and check on Stephen. Reminding herself that her father truly would be alone, whereas Stephen could call upon her aunts and the staff at Chatam House, she forced herself to remain at home. She had texted Stephen that he should call when he was ready for bed. When that happened, she would go to him.
But Stephen did not call, and it was not duty that finally drove her to make her excuses to her frowning father and rush over to Chatam House. She didn’t know what it was exactly, but it felt horribly like longing, and so she whispered a prayer before she started the engine of her car.
“Lord, guide me. I am so confused, so torn. I’m not sure how to help either Stephen or Dad. I want Your will in all things, so I ask You please to reveal Your will to me in unmistakable ways. I know I should be able to discern and decide, but I don’t trust myself to know what is best. I don’t even know what I want!”
That brought her to a shocking halt, for it was a blatant lie. She did know what she wanted. She wanted to fulfill her calling as a nurse. She wanted to marry and have children. She wanted her father to find joy in this final stage of his life. She wanted to spend time with Stephen—not just see to his medical needs, but to spend time with him.
“But are those the right things to want?” she asked her Lord.
Dashing a tear from her eye, she laughed at her own confusion, opened her heart to God and just let it be for the moment.
Some ten minutes later Kaylie parked her convertible with the top up under the porte cochere at Chatam House and let herself in via the side door. Though not yet ten o’clock, the house was quiet. She walked the darkened hallways with an