I slipped my arm into the crook of his elbow, and he walked me to my door.
“Thanks for this. It was nice,” I told him and opened my door, releasing his hand.
Honey was there to greet me, bagocking and pecking at my fuzzy socks as I removed my boots.
Seth shook his head. “Chicken with a diaper,” he mumbled.
“I’m a proud monthly member now. I get all the new release prints,” I told him and pointed to the Christmas tree cloth diaper Honey had on now.
Seth belly-laughed, and the sound made the whole house feel brighter. “You crack me up, Ella.”
“Likewise,” I told him.
“See you tomorrow at four p.m.? Unless you want to go to church with us in the morning. The Christmas service Pastor Jake does is always the best.” He stepped away fromthe door and grabbed the shovel I had leaned against the porch.
I wasnotready for church. Not because I was still mad at God. I mean, I was, but my heart had softened in that respect. A little. Now, I was ashamed. Ashamed I’d so easily turned my back on God. Mad and ashamed, and I didn’t just know what to do about it.
“See you at four. I’ll bring a pie?”
He nodded, only a trace of disappointment crossing his face that I’d said no to church. “There’s a blind taste contest. Maggie always wins,” he warned me.
“Sounds like a challenge.” I raised one eyebrow.
He laughed and then started to shovel the walkway as I bid him good night and closed the door.
I wasn’t sure I was ready to let God back into my heart just yet, but I had to admit that it felt like the Lord had placed Seth in my life for a reason. Chopping the wood, blowing out the sprinklers, winterizing the farm for the animals, and now shoveling snow. Seth was taking up all the slack James left behind. All except the emotional void that I was quite sure no man could ever fill again.
Chapter Eighteen
Ella
By four p.m. the next day, I’d baked my grandmother’s famous pecan pie with the secret ingredient, cardamom. I drove over to Seth’s dressed in a red, knee-length, sparkly cocktail dress and black ballet slipper flats. The dress had a large bow over my small baby bump, so I was hoping to hide it. I was just starting to show a tiny belly bump that might be mistaken for a bloated stomach if someone didn’t know I was pregnant. My hair was down and curled. This was the most put together I’d looked at in months.
There was a car in Seth’s driveway with Montana plates and another with rental plates. They must’ve belonged to Seth’s brothers.
I parked next to them and brought my pecan pie up to the front door, but when I got there, I read the sign and smiled.
Eleventh annual pie contest. Drop your pie in the box by the door so we can keep entrants anonymous. - Maggie
I peered down at the cardboard box to see that three pies already lay inside. One looked to be a pumpkin, one apple, and another pecan. I gently set my pecan on top of the apple and wished it luck.
Then I knocked on the door.
I could hear people talking loudly inside, but no one answered, so I knocked again, more forcefully this time.
The door opened, and Seth was covering his eyes with his hands. “Did you put your pie in the box?” he asked without looking at me.
I laughed. “Yes.”
He then pulled his hand down and looked at me, his face falling a little.
“Everything okay?” I asked in alarm.
He swallowed hard, his gaze going over my hair and my dress. He cleared his throat. “You look beautiful.”
“Oh. Thanks. I do clean up well when I’m not sulking in depression and chicken PJs.” I’d meant it as a joke, but it was a little too close to home.
He gave me one of his easy smiles. “You looked beautiful in your sulking depression get-up, too.”
