A Match Made in Texas- By Arlene James Page 0,74

for leaving Buffalo Creek,” he said brightly, “I like it here. No reason we can’t find or build a house nearby.”

“Not the Netherlands?” Hub asked.

“Kind of a long commute to Fort Worth,” Stephen said.

“The Netherlands is for vacations. And honeymoons?” he whispered into Kaylie’s ear. She tightened her arm around his neck, so he added, “For starters. After that, I was thinking Italy.”

“And when were you thinking of taking this honeymoon?” she whispered back.

“I’ve always wanted to be a June bride,” he muttered, and she giggled.

“All right, enough of that,” Chandler ordered.

“Not from where I’m sitting,” Stephen retorted cheekily.

“Time enough for it later, then,” Bayard said, hoisting himself to the edge of the sofa. “When do we eat? I’m starved.”

That did it. Smiling broadly, Kaylie popped up and rushed toward the kitchen. “Morgan, add a plate to the table. Chandler, that salsa you like is in the refrigerator. Bayard, you’ll have to sweeten the tea yourself. Stephen…”

He grabbed his crutches and got to his feet. “Yes?”

She whirled around, smiling dreamily. “Just…Stephen.” With that she danced away, her brothers following. That left him alone with his future father-in-law, who got up and walked to his side. Stephen waited, and after a moment Hub spoke.

“I can’t approve of your occupation.”

Stephen quoted from that morning’s sermon. “‘Seek not the approval of man but the approval of Him Who is above man, of God Himself.’ I think that’s what the pastor said.”

Hubner cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I expect you’ll grow on me.”

Stephen chuckled. “I expect I will.”

“Is that so?”

Stephen nodded. “Kaylie’s spoken to me about a personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ. I figured you would be the one to explain that to me.”

“I—” Hubner’s chin wobbled and his face softened. “Yes,” he said, thawing, “I would be the one.” He cleared his throat again. Sucking in a deep breath, he admitted, “I fear there are some things I need to get off my chest first.”

“I’ve been doing some of that myself,” Stephen told him. “Comforting process.”

“Yes,” Hubner agreed, clapping him on the shoulder and starting him toward the dining room. “Yes, it is. Maybe you can, ah, give me a better understanding of hockey later. One should have all the facts, after all.”

“Be glad to,” Stephen said. “Lately I’m all about promoting understanding in the family.”

“Family,” Hubner echoed, bowing his head. “I may be too proud of mine,” he admitted.

“Well,” Stephen allowed, “it seems to me that you have plenty to be proud of.” He glanced over his shoulder at the painting above the mantel. “Beautiful woman, Kaylie’s mother.”

Hubner’s gaze followed his. “Yes, she was.”

“Almost as beautiful as her daughter.”

Hubner smiled. It was reluctant. It was wan. It was the first sure sign of peace between them but not, Stephen felt sure, the last.

Chapter Fourteen

“Stevie baby!”

Stephen and Kaylie twisted in their seats to wave at Aaron and Dora Doolin.

They weren’t the first unexpected guests to stop by the VIP arena box that night. The infamous Cherie and a small coterie of seductively clad “ice bunnies” had flounced in earlier—and then right out again upon Stephen’s formal announcement of their engagement. Stephen had seemed sheepishly amused. Kaylie had looked at the ring on her finger and smiled to herself, confident in her beloved and the God Who had brought him to her.

Beaming megawatt smiles, the Doolins plunged into the milling throng of Chatams, paramedics and friends helping themselves to the buffet provided by the arena caterer. Beside Stephen and Kaylie, the aunts, too, greeted the newcomers. Odelia, decked out in the team colors of maroon and yellow-gold, waved her hanky at them, the garish walnut-sized garnets on her earlobes sparkling like disco balls. Hypatia, in pearls and pumps, granted them a regal nod, but Aunt Mags, dowdy as ever, barely glanced their way before turning back to the action on the rink, if the Zamboni reconditioning the ice could be called action.

After two periods, the Blades were trailing in the make-it-or-break-it seventh game of the series, but Stephen seemed to have recently turned philosophical about the outcome and his part in it. Or lack of part in it, if the team so decided. He was through hiding like a guilty child, he’d said. A soon-to-be-married man had to learn to face his failures and responsibilities—and leave the rest to God.

For that reason, he’d met with team management and explained himself as fully as possible, vowing never to drink again. He had also invited his father here tonight, at Kaylie’s urging. George Gallow