A Match Made in Texas- By Arlene James Page 0,53
to help him. His physical condition was still serious, but his spiritual condition might well be even more acute. No, she could not abandon him, and if her duty to her father came into conflict, well, that was her problem alone. Stephen was weak and in pain and…lost.
As exasperating as her father could be, as sad as her mother’s passing had been, Kaylie had never doubted that she was treasured by them. Thanks to them, she had grown up grounded in the surety of God’s love for her and the absolute belief that nothing could ever separate her from such love, not time or space or even death. But what surety did Stephen have? She sensed genuine friendship between him and Aaron, but how certain could Stephen be about that when Aaron depended on Stephen for income?
It seemed to her that Stephen really had no one. And how unnecessary that was when Jesus stood waiting with open arms!
Lord, she prayed, please let Stephen see You in me and my family. Let him turn to You and find the love that You bear for
him. And please, Lord, teach my heart how to love Stephen as You would have me love him. To Your glory.
The door opened behind her, and she turned to find Stephen sagging against the frame once more. He looked haggard and weary, his jaws unshaved and his pale eyes sunken. Her heart turned over. She quickly pushed the wheelchair out of the way and went to help him.
“Let’s get you off your feet.”
“Foot,” he corrected with a crooked grin, his arm sliding across her shoulders.
“All the more reason,” she said, mindful of his battered ribs and collarbone as she attempted to aid his progress.
At last, he sank down on the bed, and she briskly went about setting the covers to rights, something she should have done while he was in the bathroom. He smiled faintly as she tugged and tucked and smoothed, then dutifully swallowed his meds and submitted himself to an injection. As he settled onto his pillow again, his gray eyes sought hers.
“Will you stay with me for a while?”
“Of course,” she said, after only the briefest hesitation.
Nodding toward the wheelchair, he said teasingly, “Your turn.”
Laughing lightly, she pulled the chair close to the bed and sat. She waited for him to choose a topic of conversation, even as she feared what it might be. Instead, he reached down for her hand and closed his eyes. Sometime later, she realized that he had drifted off to sleep. Still, she stayed, her hand in his, until her own drowsiness drove her to her feet and at last sent her home.
Because you’re the first woman I’ve met that I would even consider marrying.
The words floated into Stephen’s consciousness, and for that stupid remark, he silently called himself every derogatory name in the book: fool, idiot, lunatic, dimwit. When he ran out of English versions, he switched to Dutch: dwass, krankzinning, stom, even hersenloos.
How he could have been so brainless as to say such a thing he could not imagine. In truth, he had fully expected her to be gone when he’d hobbled out of the bathroom, to run as she had after that kiss, but she’d surprised him yet again. Not only had she been there, she’d smiled so benignly that his worst fears had evaporated and the treasured peace that she seemed to bring had settled around him.
He had allowed her gentle bullying and fussing, meekly swallowing her pills, suffering her injections and putting up with a tuck-in routine that a five-year-old would find insulting.
Oh, who was he kidding? He enjoyed every quiet order that came out of her mouth, every smile that curved her rosy lips, every delicate sweep and light pat of her fingertips. He reveled in them, truth be told. Such caring and tenderness had been absent from his life for far, far too long, so long that he hadn’t even realized how much he had missed them until Kaylie Chatam had begun caring for him.
Relieved of every discomfort and disgustingly exhausted, he had craved sleep but he also craved connection with Kaylie. Intending to make conversation, he’d teased her into staying. When she’d willingly complied, he’d availed himself of her hand, marveling anew at its daintiness, but instead of conjuring conversation to keep her with him, his mind had turned to blankness. Now, once more, he would awake alone.
He didn’t understand why that mattered so much all of a sudden. After Nick had