Kellen really didn’t want to leave Skylar and Ruthy with people he hardly knew. Then again, there was something he needed to take care of. “If you could stay with them for a couple minutes, actually that would be great.”
He bowed out of the room and started toward the Victorian mansion next door. The sun had begun to set, making the sky purple, but even in the dim evening light the sage clapboard and pink-painted details on the home were easy to spot. The carved wood that trimmed every dormer and corner of the house spoke of a long-forgotten time period. Guests must bump down the driveway, gasping when they first saw the place, and look forward to the rest and relaxation they’d find inside.
The inn might belong to him, but the way he’d delivered the information to Maggie West had been nothing short of cruel. When she challenged him about redoing Ida’s home, he’d spat out the word freeloader without thinking. She deserved an apology.
Maggie might be too attached to earthly treasures, but that was her beef to worry about, not his. It was just...he’d thought he’d escaped materialistic people by moving his girls away from Los Angeles. So much for his ideal vision of Goose Harbor being a safe haven to raise his family away from the worldly influences of the country’s pop culture. He welcomed the realization, though—no place was perfect and he’d never be able to shelter his girls from everything. Not completely. At least people didn’t walk around Goose Harbor half-dressed, although that could have more to do with the climate than anything else. Either way, that was one small victory.
Kellen eased through the gate that connected the two yards. He spotted Maggie right away. Knees in the wet dirt around the flower beds, Maggie yanked out weeds while mumbling under her breath. She worked quickly and had a smear of mud across her forehead. Kellen bit back a smile. The woman moved like the cartoon Tasmanian Devil. All frenzied motion. All passion.
Maybe that was why, despite wanting to steer clear of women who cared more about possessions than people, he felt drawn to her. When they’d argued earlier, a fire flicked across her eyes. Maggie West didn’t do anything halfway. Even if something was going to be done wrong, it would be done with ten times more zeal than it required.
He stopped about a foot behind her. She yanked out a dandelion and tossed it over her shoulder.
The weed landed on his leather shoe. “Are you able to take a break?”
Hand to her heart, Maggie jumped. “I didn’t hear anyone sneak up behind me.” She stopped her laugh when she looked behind her and caught sight of him. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Listen. I want to talk to you. Can we sit on the steps for a minute?” He pointed toward the pink steps leading to the front door.
“Sorry. I can’t stop.” She kept her back to him. “I have so much to get done and not enough hours to do it in. I really don’t have time to talk to you right now.”
“Please? It’ll only take a few minutes.”
She rocked back on her heels and squinted up at him. “Some people don’t have the luxury of relaxing all the time. We have to work while other people get things handed to them. Besides, I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I was freeloading, would I? Don’t you want the flower beds of your inn to look good for the next guests arriving tomorrow?”
He chose to ignore the freeloading barb she’d tossed into the conversation, seeing as he’d come to apologize.
A story from the Bible played across his mind, as they’d been doing so often lately since he’d started reading it again. It was the part in the New Testament when Jesus spoke at Mary and Martha’s house and Martha was too busy taking care of everyone to listen and became upset with Mary for sitting at the feet of Jesus instead of helping.
Did God want him to remind Maggie of that Bible story? It felt like it. But Kellen couldn’t be sure. He’d spent so many years ignoring when he felt God wanted him to do something to know for certain. He might be a grown man, but despite being raised in the church, he was still only a young Christian.
With the way he had acted this morning, he couldn’t blame her for being worried and upset after finding out he owned the place where she currently lived and worked—but he could end both of those emotions for her by being honest about the will.
He bent down to be eye level with her. “Martha, Martha. You are worried and upset about many things. Aren’t you?”
Maggie turned back to the flower bed. “Not that it probably matters to you, but my name isn’t Martha.”
“I know.”
She kept her eyes focused on the ground. “I’m surprised that you know the Bible at all, seeing as you were going to ditch Ida’s as quickly as an old newspaper.”
Kellen forced his shoulders to relax as he held back the response that came to his lips. “My dad is a minister.”
“Could have fooled me.”
It was going to take everything in him to apologize to Maggie without snapping back at her. Kellen took a deep breath and counted to ten before speaking. “You’re right. I wasn’t a good church kid growing up. I rejected everything my dad taught and lived life by my terms for a long time. God kept chasing me, though, and I’m His for good now. The funniest thing is, now my dad’s old sermons keep coming back to me at the oddest times.”
She yanked out another weed.
He moved a foot away and kneeled in the flower bed.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye. “You’ll ruin those fancy designer jeans.”
Kellen ran his fingers over the mulch. “I always wondered if Martha had just asked the people gathered to hear Jesus talk if they would help her, the chores could have all been done in a couple minutes and then she could have been sitting there at the Lord’s feet next to her sister.”
“Maybe she had no one to ask. Or maybe she knew it would be a waste of time to ask because no one would come to her rescue. Maybe Martha was all on her own and knew her sister wasn’t about to leave what she was doing to help.” She yanked out a weed with so much force it took out the flower next to it, as well. “Maybe, like me, she had no choice. What if she felt like she was drowning and losing what she cared about and she...?” Maggie shook her head. “So don’t talk to me about helping.”
Dare he challenge her? “Is it that you’re alone, or is it that you refuse to ask for help?”
“You don’t understand what I’m saying.” She shot him a glare and inched farther away. “I’m done talking to you.”
Kellen yanked out a weed.
Maggie rocked back onto her heels and let out a huff. “Just what are you doing?”
He shrugged. “Sharing the load.”
“I’d rather not be around you right now. I know this inn belongs to you and I’ll leave as soon as you say so, but for now I just want an evening to remember how beautiful it is and—”
Kellen sat down firmly and faced her. “Maggie, you need to chill for a second. I came here to tell you that I’m not going to— Ouch.” A small stabbing pain shot into the side of his neck. Then another. He swatted his neck, and his hand collided with a large bug. Another one buzzed near his ear. “Bees.”
No. Not again.
Maggie got to her feet. “Did they sting you?”
His throat was already closing up. A rush of blurry warmth flooded his brain. “Allergic.” He wheezed out the word. Why did it have to be his neck? Swelling there would make his breathing much harder than his normal reaction. The bees had chosen to inject their poison in the worst place possible.
Black