Project Love (Cascade Brides Series) (14 page)

“
Today?”

Charity bit her lip. “After...?”

He nodded quickly. “Yes, after we visit Evelyn. If
that's okay with you, and you're not tired of me by then.”

“
We might have to play it by ear.”

He laughed. “I know you won't let me down.”

Charity gulped. Why did those words fill her with dread?

***

“
I brought my Bible,” Daniel said, glancing at
Charity on the way to the nursing home. He was glad she seemed to be
doing a little better. During church, he'd noticed lines of strain
around her eyes. “I was thinking it'd be nice if you could read out
a psalm or two while we're sitting with Evelyn.”

Charity stared straight ahead. After a moment, she said,
“Of course.”

He held back a frown. “I don't want to make you feel
uncomfortable—”

“
I won't be uncomfortable reading the Bible, Daniel.”

He wanted to ask if any part of the visit made her
uncomfortable, but refrained. Maybe the weather was getting her down.
As if in response, a gust of wind and rain splashed against the
windshield. “Looks like summer is really gone.”

“
It's the shortest season in the Willamette Valley,”
she said, watching the passing scenery. “It's never long enough.”

Something in her tone wasn't right, but he had to table
his worries for the moment. They had arrived at the care home.

Charity was silent as
she walked by his side down the hallways. He wondered if she didn't
care for the environment. Not everyone did. Some were turned off by
the smell. Others by the notion of illness and death lurking around
every corner. It
was
a
difficult place to visit, but oh so necessary.

After checking in with the nurse, they headed to
Evelyn's room. She'd just returned from an hour spent in the
solarium.

Daniel paused on the threshold when he saw her. If
possible, she looked more bent and aged. But she turned slightly from
her wheelchair in their direction. He hurried across the room when he
saw her hand grasping in the air.

Snagging a chair and setting it near her wheelchair, he
sat down and took Evelyn's hand in his. Her fingers wrapped around
his with a surprising grip for one who appeared to be so frail. Her
skin was cool to the touch. Daniel's heart went out to her.

Checking over his shoulder, he saw Charity had claimed
the other chair. She sat stiffly, staring at the Bible in her lap.
After regarding her for a moment, he turned back to Evelyn. “I hear
you sat in the solarium today. Too bad there wasn't much sun.”

No response.

“
I was just telling Charity that it seems like fall is
really here. No Indian summer this year, I'm afraid.”

He kept up a light
conversation while one part of his mind wondered at Charity's
reluctance. After a while, he ran out of things to say. Holding
Evelyn's hand more tightly, Daniel offered up a silent prayer.
Lord,
please comfort this woman and help her sense Your nearness. Help her
to never feel alone even when no one is with her. Draw her heart to
Yours if there's a separation. Help her see You when things seem to
be at their worst
. As he
whispered an amen, he glanced once more at Charity, suddenly unsure
who needed the prayer more.

Charity ran her hands along the cool leather of Daniel's
Bible. It was worn around the edges. She wondered how long he'd owned
it. Her own Bible had disappeared when she'd left home. Maybe she'd
forgotten to pack it. Maybe someone had thrown it away. She didn't
know. Nowadays she got her Scripture reading via daily text messages.

A part of her wanted to open the Bible and peruse
Daniel's notes. He seemed like the note-making type. What trials had
he worked through with God's help? What were some of his deepest
prayers? Did he ever struggle with unbelief? With the feeling of
never measuring up?

But she didn't crack the pages. It wasn't her right. Of
course she knew he wouldn't mind—but she didn't feel worthy to peer
at his inmost thoughts—not when she felt the sudden need to keep
him at a distance. So she traced the indented line pattern on the
cover, waiting for his instruction.

“
Charity.”

She looked at him and was floored again by the sight of
him offering comfort to an old woman. Who did that? No one she knew.

Not me. Definitely not me
.

“
Could you please read out Psalm 40?”

Charity nodded and carefully opened the Bible at the
center. From there, she paged to the correct psalm. Taking a deep
breath, she began to read.

“
I waited patiently for the
Lord
;
he
turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock and gave me a
firm place to stand.
He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of
praise to our God
.”

Charity paused after a few more verses and looked at
Daniel. He smiled in return. She continued.

“
Sacrifice and offering you did not desire—but my
ears you have opened—burnt offerings and sin offerings you did not
require
.”

She stopped, rereading the words. Sitting up a little
straighter, Charity started again. When she got to the last few
verses, she released a breath.

“
But as for me, I am poor and needy; may the Lord
think of me.
You are my help and my deliverer; you are my God, do
not delay
.”

When she looked up, she found Daniel watching her. After
a moment, he turned back to Evelyn.

Charity watched him with the older woman and suddenly
realized who was really the poor and needy one in the room.

And it wasn't necessarily Evelyn.

Chapter Eleven

Charity knew Daniel had picked up on her strange mood.
She knew he was sifting through the right words to say as they headed
back to her place. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to
save the energy. What was the point? There was no way this could
work—no way she could measure up to his ideals.

Because there was no way she was going back to that care
home.

She didn't have the right words either, so she schooled
her expression and kept up mindless chit-chat as they carried bags of
groceries up to the fourth floor. Since scone-making required some
ingredients she didn't have on hand, they'd needed to stop by the
store after leaving the care home. Charity looked forward to having a
chore to keep her hands occupied. Something less disturbing than
thinking about the Bible notes Daniel had written next to that psalm.

Thank You for delivering me from myself.

God, please help my confidence to be in You and not
worry about what others think of me.

Help me remember that without love and faith, all my
good works are meaningless
.

Yep. He was a note-maker.

She keyed open her door, alerted Holly to their
presence, and unloaded the groceries in the kitchen on the counter.

“
Is Holly actually here?” Daniel asked, depositing
his bag on the counter.

“
Pretty sure. She never really leaves.”

He touched her arm. “Hey, are you okay?”

Charity nodded before pulling out heavy cream, butter,
and a container of blueberries from a bag. “I should probably get
the scones started,” she said forcing a light note to her voice.
“Don't want to keep you out too late.”

He regarded her as he pulled a box of PG Tips tea from
another bag, along with a half gallon of milk. “Can I help?”

“
Um, there's not that much to do. Scones are really
easy.”

His mouth twitched. “Then why can no one make them
right?”

She held up the butter and heavy cream. “Maybe they
don't know about the secret ingredients. Most people use milk instead
of cream, or margarine or hydrogenated oil instead of butter.”

Daniel pulled out a bar chair and leaned his elbows on
the counter after sitting down. “Put me to work whenever you feel
the need. I'm here for you.”

Charity couldn't help but notice the attractive picture
he made sitting at her kitchen counter, his hair wind-blown, his
loosened tie askew. She couldn't help but notice the double-meaning
behind his words either. “'kay, thanks.”

One of his brows went up at her flippant reply.

Turning away from his speculative gaze, she preheated
the oven and set to work. It didn't take long to mix up the dough and
work in the fresh blueberries. Maybe next time she should suggest
something more time-consuming—like croissants.

As Charity sliced the dough into triangles, she reminded
herself there probably wouldn't be a next time. Scones were just the
way to soften the blow—not invite more intimacy. She glanced at
Daniel and felt her face heat. His intense regard meant he was trying
to figure her out.

Once the first batch of scones was in the oven, she put
on the kettle and prepared two mugs for tea. “Do you take your tea
white or black?”

Daniel leaned forward, a bemused smile on his face.
“What do you think?”

Charity dropped her attention to the mugs with their
waiting teabags. “While I know you take your coffee black, I'm
guessing tea is more a comfort drink than a necessary intake of
caffeine. So I'm going to say white.”

“
That's right,” he said, his smile deepening.

They both fell silent. She put out a bowl of sugar with
a spoon and a small pitcher of milk. Next, she placed a stick of
butter on a small plate and set it front of Daniel, along with a
butter knife and a couple more small plates.

“
Any clotted cream?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

“
No. I usually just use butter and maybe a little
jam.”

“
Clotted cream
is
pretty hard to get here,” he
said as he tilted his empty mug from side to side. “Maybe some
things are only meant for special occasions.”

Charity sent him a tight smile and pulled strawberry and
blackberry jam from the refrigerator. She checked the oven timer. Ten
more minutes. Her heart began to pound as her real task pressed upon
her.

Daniel pushed the mug away and got to his feet.
“Charity,” he said, his tone uncertain.

Not yet. I'm not ready
.
She grabbed an oven mitt and twisted it in her hands.
I
can't look at him. He'll guess what I'm thinking. Somehow he'll just
know
.

The kettle whistled, the shrill sound heightening her
nervousness. But as she reached for the kettle, a voice intruded.

“
Oh, my goodness,
what smells so good?” Holly clumped into the room, wearing an old
T-shirt, ratty jeans, and her
ridiculous
slippers.

“
Hello, Holly,” Daniel said politely, turning toward
her. “Charity's making homemade scones.”

“
Oh, yum,” Holly said, sliding onto his vacated
chair. “I haven't eaten anything today.”

Charity pulled another mug and plate from the cupboard,
annoyance at Holly's presence tempered by a small feeling of relief.
Once she filled all three cups with hot water, the oven timer rang.
She pulled the tray from the rack and placed it on the stove top.

Holly inhaled deeply. “Those look fantastic.”

“
What matters is how they taste,” Charity said
shortly.

“
I have no doubt they'll be perfect,” Daniel said,
capturing her gaze.

She grabbed a metal spatula. “It's impossible to tell
until you try them. The right ingredients don't necessarily a good
recipe make.”

“
Some things one just knows by instinct.”

“
Instincts aren't facts, they're feelings. Something
an engineer should know the difference between.”

Holly grimaced. “Are
you guys talking about the
scones?
”

Firming her mouth, Charity slid a scone on each of the
three plates and motioned toward the butter. “I'm sure you know
what to do.”

“
How do you cut yours?” Daniel said. “I'm just
curious.”

“
Dude,” Holly said, “haven't you ever had a scone
before?”

Charity took her butter knife and split open the scone.
Then she buttered it and added jam. “Happy?”

“
Very,” Daniel said, looking anything but.

Holly's eyes swiveled between the two of them. “Yeah,
I think I'll take my food into my room.”

Daniel cleared his throat. “Holly, has Charity
mentioned anything about art for the care home fund-raiser?”

The redhead's face went blank. “Um, no.”

“
I was going to,” Charity said quickly. “Soon.”

Daniel smiled. “No rush but since I'm here...” He
turned back to Holly. “We're working on raising funds for the
Lutheran care home and wondered if you'd consider contributing a few
pieces of art for the silent auction.”