Treize

 

Kelly sat crossed-legged on the rug and raked a comb through Chelsea’s tangled, damp hair. “I hope I’m not hurting you.”

“You’re not.”

“Are you two warm enough? I can throw another log in the stove.” Denny added his wrung-out shirt to the makeshift clothesline near the stove in the small fishing camp.

Kelly’s jeans and socks hung next to Chelsea’s wet clothes. The sweatpants and socks she wore were from Denny’s stock he left at the camp. She’d been relieved that the pants had a drawstring waist.

She sensed the tension in Denny. He paced the width of the small room and peered out into the driving rain.

“Do you think it’ll ease anytime soon?” she asked.

He rubbed his chin and cast a weary gaze in her direction. “It’s hard to say. When I called Mama earlier, she said the weather report called for freezing rain or possibly snow this afternoon. I’d like to head back when this heavy stuff eases.”

Chelsea turned toward her father, pulling a strand of hair with her. “Snow? For real? You mean we might have a white Christmas here in Caneville?” She spun around toward Kelly. “Did you hear? Snow. Here. That’s so exciting.” The blue of her eyes sparkled.

“That would be exciting.” Kelly combed through Chelsea’s bangs then handed her the comb. She’d prayed for white Christmases every year for as long as she could remember. But now she wasn’t sure spending Christmas Day in a primitive fishing cabin in the middle of a Louisiana swamp during torrential rains was an answer to her prayers. But then again, she’d learned never to question how God chose to answer prayer. Or did she?

Denny stood over Chelsea and extended his hand. “Little lady, I believe we need to talk.”

Chelsea grimaced then placed her hand in his and allowed him to lift her up.

He led his daughter to the tiny kitchen table. Once seated, he began, in a calm voice, to lecture her on the dangers of her actions. He spoke to her with sternness when necessary, but bathed the whole conversation in love.

Kelly retrieved a coat from the rack and stepped out onto the screened-in porch where the sound of rain falling on the tin roof intensified. She settled on the worn rocker and gazed at the bayou. Her heart twisted. Denny’s compassion when dealing with his daughter had touched her. The type of father she wanted for her own children. But the memory of last night flooded her thoughts. Was this the same man who’d disappeared last night? Where was his love for his daughter then? Her misgivings about Denny grew. There were too many unanswered questions and too many unknowns about this charming Southerner. She shivered. The cold here seemed to seep into her bones and touch a place deep within.

After about an hour, Denny walked out onto the porch. “Chelsea’s taking a nap. Seems she got up at five this morning.” He slipped into the rocker next to hers.

“Denny, I feel responsible.”

“This is not your fault. Please don’t think you’re responsible.” His gaze connected with hers and conveyed warmth and understanding. “This was very poor judgment by a ten-year-old girl.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Man, I keep thinking of all the things that could have happened to her. Part of this is my fault. She was scared that I’d got together with someone from my past.”

She wanted to ask about last night but didn’t feel she could. There were no promises between them. He didn’t owe her explanations for his actions. Besides, she planned to attend a New Year’s party with her ex-boyfriend. Who was she to question Denny?

He lifted his head and stared out toward the bayou. Sadness settled within the lines etched around his eyes and mouth. Kelly sensed his weariness and concern for his daughter. “Is she OK now?”

“Yes, I explained what happened last night, and she feels much better.”

“Good.” A part of her wanted to know more, but a part accepted that if his explanation calmed Chelsea’s fears then he must have had a good reason for his absence last night. But then how much would he tell a ten-year-old?

“Kelly.” He turned his chair to face her. “Thank you for praying and also for being with her last night. It means a lot to me. Chelsea really likes you. And…well…” He grabbed her hand and laced his fingers through hers. His brown eyes spilled with tenderness. “I do too.”

Did he like her only because his daughter did? She turned her gaze toward his hand entwined in hers. His warmth radiated through her, straight to her heart. Could she trust this? A relationship that had no chance of survival. Her brain cried out…no, no. But somewhere deep in her heart a voice cried out…yes.

Lord, I need Your guidance.

 

****

 

Denny laid his other hand upon theirs and watched the slight quiver of Kelly’s lowered lashes. Had his words been too forthright? He didn’t want to scare her away. How could he tell her how much he cared for her? How she’d captured his heart in the short time they’ve known each other?

“Denny.” She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “I adore Chelsea. And…”

He drowned in the gentleness of her amber eyes. How could he expect more? Regret sat like a lead weight in his stomach. He didn’t want her to have to tell him it wouldn’t work. He couldn’t stand hearing the words deep down he knew to be truth. He placed his index finger on her lips. “Shhh…don’t say any more.”

“Daddy?” Chelsea stood at the camp’s door. Her gaze shifted from him to Kelly. She lifted the board game she held in her hand and smiled. “I found the Trouble game. Can we play?”

Kelly untangled her hand and flashed a smile toward him before turning her gaze to Chelsea. “Sure, honey.” She turned back toward Denny. “No chance this rain will let up anytime soon?”

He stared toward the bayou. Torrents of rain continued to fall. “Not anytime soon. Looks like we’re in for Trouble.”

Kelly cleared her throat as she entered the camp behind Chelsea. “No pun intended. Right?”

He followed her in. “No pun intended.”

Sitting at the small table playing numerous games of Trouble, most of which Chelsea managed to win, filled their afternoon. They took one break to enjoy the leftover sandwiches Eula had packed. Not the Christmas dinner he’d envisioned for Kelly, but the time together felt right. He enjoyed watching Kelly and Chelsea interact. He also enjoyed Kelly’s enthusiasm through the afternoon. After several hours the roar of the rain dimmed to intermittent pitter-patter. “Looks like this may be our window of opportunity, ladies. We should head home.”

Denny navigated his cousin’s boat, with his in tow, down the bayou he knew like the back of his hand. Chelsea and Kelly huddled next to him in an attempt to keep warm in the boat’s small cabin. As they cut through the murky waters of Bayou Labourche headed toward home, white flakes floated on the deck and vanished. “Chelsea, come here. Look.” He pointed toward the bow.

His daughter stepped toward him then he lifted her to peer out the small window.

“It’s snow! Kelly, look. It’s snow! God answered my prayers! I asked Him to give you a white Christmas.”

Kelly approached the window. A beaming smile covered her face. “It is snow. Chelsea, how about that?” When she turned to Denny, her eyes glistened, and he suspected it wasn’t due to the cold air.