30

THIS TABLE WAS A BRILLIANT IDEA,” Kristen said, propping her feet on its long farmhouse top. “Keith told me it was one of the first things you suggested.”

Ella slouched in one of the chairs, not ladder-backed as she’d originally suggested but bent-twig chairs of willow and hickory. She had to admit they were more comfortable, much better for sliding down in at the end of a long day.

“The table would be even more perfect with a big pitcher of fresh lemonade and slices of Mom’s pound cake.”

Kristen groaned. “Don’t tease me like that. I’m starving, but I’m too pooped to even think about where we’re going to get dinner.”

Keith pushed the door open and stepped out onto the porch. “The place looks absolutely perfect, ladies.”

Ella started to push to her feet when Keith held up his hand. “No, no, stay right there. I’m pretty sure you moved every stick of furniture at least three times and all the other odds and ends six.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Now I have a treat for you.”

He disappeared inside and then popped back out with a woven hamper in his arms. He carried it to the table and set it down with a thud. Flipping off the lid, he lifted items out. There was sparkling water, beads of condensation sliding down the cool glass. Then wedges of cheese, grapes, strawberries, a baguette, salami, and chocolate chip cookies as big as Ella’s hand.

He arranged it all in front of them, presented them each with a small plate and a napkin, and finally walked over to the railing to pluck a rose from a bush planted just a month earlier. “Ladies, you are worth your weight in gold.” He handed the rose to Kristen with a flourish. “Now, I leave you to your repast. Enjoy.” He gave a little bow and went back inside, probably to his office in the farthest corner.

Ella and Kristen exchanged looks.

“You’d think he’d be married,” Ella said.

“He has been. I don’t think the problem is getting a wife; I think it’s keeping one.” Kristen sighed. “I’ve worked with Keith long enough to know he’d be a real catch if he’d ever stop focusing on work long enough to get caught.”

Ella plucked a grape and popped it into her mouth, thinking Kristen looked awfully wistful as she broke off a piece of the baguette.

It was the end of June by the time the legalities were completed for the sale of the church property. The hunting preserve had been open on a limited basis through the spring turkey season. Ella supposed it was just as well they’d be moved out before the hunters arrived in full force. A final service before the church closed was scheduled for the first Sunday of July. Ella was still sad to see the property go, but after a long talk with her grandmother, prayer, and some time spent reading her Bible, she had come to see that she might have been overly invested in a building. Maybe the congregation did need a new start. And maybe she did, too.

On the day of the final service, Ella looked around wondering where all these people had been hiding. In spite of her recently found peace, she couldn’t help thinking that if only they’d come sooner, things might have turned out differently.

It was a lovely service with an abbreviated sermon and testimonials from members whose families had been attending there for generations. Dad spoke on behalf of the Phillips family, and Gran got teary when he talked about Grandpa Casewell’s funeral, the day he married Mom, and Ella and Will’s baptisms. It was hard, but as the service neared its end, Ella realized she did feel a certain closure.

They sang “The Old Rugged Cross” and then Richard asked if there was anyone else who wanted to speak before they closed. Much to Ella’s surprise, Keith Randolph stood and made his way to the front.

He stood, head bowed for a moment. Then he looked out over the congregation and smiled—but it was a sad smile. “I have an announcement. I’m not buying the church.”

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the sanctuary. Steve shot to his feet. “But everything’s been finalized. You can’t back out now. We have a verbal agreement on the new property in town.”

Keith waved Steve back down. “I’m not buying the church, but I am making a donation equal to the purchase price. It’s up to you whether you invest it in this building or move downtown.”

He started back down the aisle. Ella jumped up and grabbed his arm as he approached. “Wait.”

Keith stopped and hugged Ella. Surprised, she returned the hug before extricating herself. “But why?”

“Those stories, these people.” Keith looked around with glistening eyes. “Your family and people like Seth there have shown me more Christian love than I’ve seen in a lifetime. You welcomed me in although I was an outsider. You fed me. You clothed me in the kind of grace I didn’t know still existed in this world.” He reached out and laid a hand on Gran’s shoulder. “I have faith in this church. Seems like a good place to make an investment, even if my attorney disagrees.”

The room burst into chatter as people moved forward to shake Keith’s hand, to hug each other, and to talk excitedly about what the money might mean to them. Ella felt alone in the midst of the celebration. Keith mentioned his attorney not approving of the move. Who, exactly, was his attorney?

A sharp whistle echoed over their heads. As one body they turned to see Seth, Will, and Richard standing up front, waving everyone back into the pews.

“Sit down, sit down, and let’s sort this out,” Seth hollered.

He nodded at Richard, who braced his hands on the pulpit and smiled. “God surely does provide, doesn’t He? This is exciting news, and we don’t need to be in any hurry to make a decision. Let’s digest this information and then we’ll form a committee and figure out the best course of action. Input from you all will be most welcome.”

Will leaned in. “And all you folks who came out to say goodbye to Laurel Mountain Church might want to consider saying hello on a more regular basis.”

Soft laughter eased through the room. To Ella it sounded like God’s own sigh of satisfaction. Although she still had every intention of asking Keith about that attorney he mentioned.

After church that Sunday, Ella invited her entire family back to Gran’s house for dinner. She knew it would be crowded, but she felt like having a party. Everyone piled into the tight space and soon managed to make it feel more cozy than crowded. As the smell of roasting chicken with rosemary filled the room, the group settled into the ease that Ella wished they could always enjoy. Dad and Will drifted into the living room deep in conversation about how the cows bred late that year and how many calves they would have come spring, while Laura and Mom insisted on helping in the kitchen. Aunt Sadie and Gran took their ease at the table.

There wasn’t much to help with, so the women propped hips against counters and talked about food and their husbands and plans for the future. Ella wished she’d done this sooner, but then again maybe her timing was just right. Funny how things worked out when you listened to your heart and trusted your instincts.

Soon everyone crowded around the table, and after Dad said grace he carved the first of two perfectly browned chickens sitting on one of Ella’s mother’s best china platters.

“Mom, are you sure you don’t mind handing off your china?” Ella asked. “You’ve been saving it for as long as I can remember and it seems funny to give it to me now.”

“No, that china has always been meant for you. And I’m so glad you’re using it. I’ve been silly too long, treating it as though it’s too good to use.” She laid her napkin in her lap. “It’s nice to see it here on your grandmother’s table.”

Ella ran a finger along the flower-strewn edge of her plate. It would have looked at home on the finest mahogany table in the grandest dining room, but she thought it looked equally well here on her grandmother’s Formica table with the extra leaf making it almost big enough for all of them. Ella sighed with what occurred to her might be called contentment.

Then she noticed Laura was barely touching her food, though she wore a smile that seemed to light the room. Ella looked from Laura to her brother, who was grinning back at his wife.

“You’re pregnant,” Ella blurted.

Laura laughed, “Is it that obvious?”

“There’s sure something up with the two of you,” Ella said. “I’m thinking that’s a good guess.”

Will raised his glass of iced tea. “We’ll have more than new calves to contend with come spring,” he said, winning a swat from his wife. He ducked and raised the glass higher, looking at Laura with a tenderness Ella had never seen before. “To my beautiful wife—the mother of my child.” Will swiped at a tear as they raised their glasses to the coming blessing.

Ella did her best to savor the joy of becoming an aunt without wallowing in the feeling that she might never have a child of her own. It wasn’t as hard as she feared.