Beginnings (32 page)

“She declined the contract?” Sean’s knees turned to rubber. He sank into the chair facing his father’s massive oak desk. “I can’t believe she’d do that.”

“Yes.” Dad drummed his fingers on the desktop, his lips twitching. “I was surprised, too. And it certainly leaves us in a lurch.”

Sean wasn’t as concerned about their “lurch” at the moment as he was about Beth. Knowing how many plans she had for the studio, he couldn’t imagine her turning down the very means to seeing those plans through. “But why? Did she give a reason?”

Dad nodded. “Apparently, her mother had a complicated delivery and required surgery. She is staying at the hospital until her mother recovers. That equates to not meeting the deadline, so...” Dad raised one brow. “No contract.”

Sean leaned forward, his heart pounding with alarm. “Did she say whether her mother was all right?” Beth adored her mother. She would be devastated if anything happened to her.

“She indicated her mother was recovering nicely. I waited for her to make the determination that, with her mother being cared for, she should return to her obligations, but she chose to stay at the hospital. So that’s that.” Dad lifted a file from the corner of his desk, opened it, and began to peruse its contents.

Sean stared in amazement for several stunned seconds. “That’s it?”

Dad didn’t even look up. “Yes. She made her choice. The contract must not have been that important to her. If she isn’t able to make honoring contracts a priority, then it’s best we know that now. Obviously the girl isn’t as dependable as we’d hoped she would be.”

He flicked a quick glance at Sean. “Why don’t you look up the number for the stained-glass studio we used for the Cincinnati project? See if they’re available.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his graying head. “Their work doesn’t have the depth I hoped we’d be able to corner, but—”

“Is that all you can think about? The
depth?
” The only time he’d heard regret enter his father’s tone was concerning what he’d wanted and couldn’t have. What had happened to his Christian compassion? Didn’t Beth and her family’s difficulty make an impact at all?

Dad’s brows lowered into a fierce scowl. “Watch your tone with me, Sean. You may be an adult and copartner of this business, but I am still your father and your boss, and—”

“And you’re being a fool.”

“What?” The word was growled.

Sean faced his father squarely and repeated in the same firm yet respectful tone, “You’re being a fool. You’re allowing an emergency that is completely out of Beth’s control to dictate your assessment of whether or not she’s dependable. It’s hardly a fair measuring tool.”

Slapping the file closed, his father roared, “She chose not to finish the window!”

“No, Dad. She chose to be with her mother in a time of need.” Leaning forward, Sean lowered his voice. “What if Mom were in the hospital, recovering, and a church team was waiting for final blueprints on a project? Whose needs would you meet—your wife’s or the team’s?”

Dad scowled. “Sean, you’re treading on dangerous ground.”

“Just answer me, please.”

After a long moment, during which Sean was forced to suffer a low-lidded glare, Dad forced his answer between stiff lips. “I would honor my commitment to the church team—”

Sean slumped back in his chair, shaking his head.

Dad came out of his chair, hands on his desk, to bring his face near Sean’s. “Because as a Christian businessman, I lose my credibility if I don’t deliver what I’ve promised. Remember what Paul told Timothy—to be a ‘
workman
that needeth not to be ashamed.’ I can’t do that if I dishonor my commitments.”

Sean rose to his feet and looked into his father’s eyes. “But what about commitment to family, Dad? Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Slowly Dad straightened his spine.

Pressing his palms to the desktop, Sean said quietly, “Jesus, on the cross, expressed concern for His mother’s care. While He was taking the penalty for the sins of mankind—what greater task was there, ever?—He still thought of His mother. To me, that says family should come first.”

Sean faced off with his father over the distance of the desk’s width. Neither man spoke for several minutes that felt like an eternity. When it became clear Dad wasn’t going to respond, Sean took a step back and released a sad sigh.

“Okay, Dad, you’re right.” He lowered his gaze to the floor. “You’re the boss, and it is your decision who we hire to design the windows for our churches. But would you think about one more thing?” He lifted his head.

Dad was staring out the window, the muscles in his jaw quivering. He didn’t turn his head.

Facing his father’s stern profile, Sean went on. “McCauley Church Construction has touted itself as a family business determined to bring glory to God. You chose to focus solely on church construction, because, as you’ve told countless committees over the years, the church is God’s family in the flesh. It seems to me that by placing her family’s needs above her job, Beth has demonstrated the very dedication you desire. What a sacrifice she made for her mother. Personally, I think that kind of dedication should be honored and trusted.”

Dad didn’t move.

Sean drew a deep breath and released it slowly, giving his father an opportunity to reply. “Well,” he finally concluded, “I’ve got work to do. I’ll touch base with you later about locating a stained-glass window designer.”

Sean opened the door and stepped through. As he turned to close it behind him, he glanced once more at his father. Evan McCauley remained standing behind his desk, his gaze aimed out the window, his fists clenched at his sides. Sean shook his head, regret filling him. Then he closed the door and left his father alone.

***

“You go through Beth’s things and pick out some clothes.” Andrew ushered Trina to Beth’s bedroom while Winky danced around their feet. “I’ll take care of the cat.”

Two days ago, he and Trina had made a similar visit to Beth’s house to retrieve a couple of changes of clothes and her toiletries. Since Beth and Uncle Henry had taken up residence at the hospital, remaining there day and night, they appreciated the fresh clothing, books, puzzles, and snacks delivered by various townspeople.

Although Andrew’s parents had driven to Wichita each day of Aunt Marie’s hospitalization, Andrew had yet to make the trek. His job, he had decided, was to guard the home front, which included Beth’s house, her cat, and the studio.

Trina, watching Winky, giggled. “He likes you, doesn’t he?” She crouched down to capture the furry critter, but Winky eluded her, wrapping himself around Andrew’s left leg.

“He should,” Andrew groused. “I’ve been the only one feeding him for the past four days. I think he’s decided I’m his mother.” He plucked the cat from the floor.

Trina tipped her head and puckered her lips into an exaggerated scowl. “You’ve been really grumpy lately. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m not grumpy.” When she raised her eyebrows, he admitted, “Okay, you’re right. I am grumpy. But who can blame me?” Winky’s tail swished in his face, and he pushed it down. “For the past two months, all we’ve done is look forward to the day Beth would sign that contract with McCauley so we’d have the funds to really get her studio going. Now, because Beth’s spending all her time at the hospital, the window isn’t getting done. No window, no contract, no money ... no studio.” Andrew gritted his teeth. “So it’s back to the fields for me.”

“Why?”

Hadn’t she listened to anything he’d said? “Trina, no studio, no job for me. Dad will expect me to work for him if I’m not working for Beth. So everything’s ruined.”

The girl shrugged. “Not everything. Even if she’s not doing those big windows for churches, Beth will still have her studio. So you can still work there.”

“Not full-time.”

“Stop being so grouchy! Not everybody gets to do what they want to all the time.”

Andrew knew Trina spoke from experience. She harbored desires that extended beyond the café, yet she went in with a cheerful attitude every day. A prick of guilt made him squirm.

“Besides that, Beth is very talented. If that McCauley from clear in Kansas City saw it, somebody else will, too. So it didn’t happen this time. It doesn’t mean it will
never
happen. Have faith, Andrew.”

Despite himself, Andrew felt a grin twitching. “When did you get so smart?”

Trina giggled. “Just born that way.”

Andrew snorted.

Another giggle rolled before Trina stepped into Beth’s bedroom.

Andrew, with Winky squirming under his arm, headed for the basement staircase. “Let’s get you fed, huh? Maybe if you’re eating, you’ll leave people alone.”

He fed the cat, then sat on his haunches, idly stroking Winky’s back and considering what Trina had said. He wondered if, underneath, he’d thought as Trina did—that the studio would still one day be as big and successful as Beth envisioned it. Because despite his dad’s report that Beth had informed McCauley she wouldn’t be able to meet his deadline, Andrew had still gone to the studio each day. He’d overseen the completion of the addition and had continued training Livvy and Catherine, just as if nothing had changed.

Trina was right. If McCauley had taken note of Beth’s unique talent, someone else would, too. It was only a matter of time. Lowering his head, he offered a silent prayer.
Forgive me, Lord, for my shortsightedness. Beth dedicated the studio to You, and her goal is to glorify You through her artwork. Let me also bring glory to You in whatever tasks I do, whether in the studio or on the farm. Help me to wait patiently for Your plan to unfold.
Perhaps he’d have to do farm work for a while yet, but God hadn’t given him an interest in art for nothing. God wouldn’t leave him on the farm forever.

“Nope, Winky, not forever.” He muttered the thought aloud.

“Not forever what?”

Andrew looked up and found Trina in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. He straightened. “I won’t pet him forever.” He looked at the neatly folded clothes in his cousin’s arms. “You have everything she’ll need for one more night?” His folks had indicated Marie would be released tomorrow, but the twins would remain in the hospital nursery for at least another month, if not longer. Beth, however, intended to return home once her mother’s hospitalization was over.

“Yes, but I should have brought a sack.”

“I can get you one.” Andrew had seen a pile of empty grocery sacks under the sink when he’d come the first time and searched through every cupboard for the cat food. He pulled one out and handed it to Trina.

“You sure know your way around,” Trina remarked as she stuffed the clothes into the sack. “But you’ve pretty much given up on living here, haven’t you?”

Andrew jumped as if pricked by a pitchfork. “What do you mean by that?”

Trina blinked in innocence, her dark eyes wide. “Your crush on Beth. You wanted to court her, didn’t you?”

Andrew frowned. “Who have you been talking to?”

Shrugging, Trina placed the bag on the counter and then rested her hands on top of it. “Nobody. I could tell by watching you watch her. But you’re over it.”

It seemed his little cousin had grown up when he wasn’t looking. He fought a grin. “Are you so sure?”

Her emphatic nod made her ribbons dance. “Oh, yes. Now you’re watching Livvy Ortmann.”

Andrew’s ears went hot. “Trina...” A warning growl.

She giggled and snatched up the bag, swinging it from her hand. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.” She pranced by him, heading for the back door. “And just so you know, she watches you, too.”

“Trina!”

The girl laughed and skipped out the door.

***

Beth’s hand trembled as she reached inside the Isolette and ran her finger gingerly down the length of her baby brother’s spindly arm. Little Teddy bent his elbow and drew up his knees. Beth murmured, “Yes, it’s me, your big sister. Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.” Slowly she retraced the path upward, then transferred her attention to his leg. She followed the curve of his tiny knee and the inside of his ankle, ending with his impossibly small toes.

The baby blinked and shifted his head on the sheet. Beth laughed, a controlled, whispered laugh. “Are you ticklish?”

Next to her, Mom gave Dorothea the same treatment—a one-fingered, gentle massage. Beth flashed her a grin over the tops of the Isolettes. Although the babies were five days old, they had yet to be held and rocked by their parents or doting big sister. But touching them, Beth decided, was the next best thing. She hoped the powdered latex glove didn’t feel rough on the delicate, wrinkled skin. The nurse had explained many preemies were sensory intolerant, so it was important to use the gentlest of touches.

“Are his eyes open?” Mom whispered.

Beth nodded. It was rare to see either of the twins awake. The nurse had assured them sleep was good medicine, and each rest allowed the babies to gain strength. Still, Beth relished the opportunity to peer into Teddy’s eyes and pretend he peered back.

“Dorothea’s are, too.” Mom’s voice purred, rising and falling as gently as if wafting on an early morning breeze. “As deep and blue as the sea, but I think they have a brown rim. I’d like it if they turned brown like her daddy’s. Pretty girl. Pretty baby. Mama loves you.”