The Cowboy's Baby Blessing

“I’m probably just kidding myself thinking I can get into the big leagues, but I figure I might as well reach for the sky, right?”

“Or swing for it.” She laughed. “What’s that called, anyway? That thing you were doing earlier with the swinging and jumping and backflips?”

His smile widened. “Parkour. It’s basically focusing your mind with the intent of seeing and interacting with your environment in a different way. It puts everything into perspective. You should try it sometime. I could give you a lesson or two.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and then she burst out laughing.

“With this body?” She gestured at herself from head to toe. “I don’t think so.”

He didn’t see anything wrong with her body. She was full figured, but in a healthy way. Besides, parkour was a mental exercise as much as a physical one.

“You shouldn’t limit yourself, Rachel. Parkour isn’t about what you can’t do—it’s about what you can.”

“I believe I’ll stick to working out in my living room to my exercise dance DVDs, thank you very much. Somewhere no one can see how awkward I look when I move.”

He wanted to press her but sensed this wasn’t the time. Plus, this was the first time he’d really spoken to her—brief chitchat at church or his family’s grocery store didn’t count—and he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression about parkour. Or about him.

“What about your daughter? Do you think she might enjoy parkour?”

Rachel voraciously shook her head, her dark hair flipping over one shoulder.

“Oh, no. She needs to concentrate on her academics right now if she’s going to get into a good college. She didn’t pass two of her classes last year and consequently is in summer school right now. It’s not that she’s not smart,” she modified. “She just hasn’t been applying herself lately. I’m trying to encourage her to do better in summer school. Anyway, sports aren’t really Zooey’s thing.”

“Did I hear my name?” Seth’s gaze shifted to the teenager who’d jogged up to Rachel. Zooey was a pretty, dark-haired, dark-eyed teenager who looked a lot like her mother. The girl dropped onto her knees next to the picnic basket and flashed a friendly smile at Seth.

“I was telling Seth here what a pickle you are, taking over the bidding on my behalf.”

Zooey stuck out her tongue at Rachel and reached for the plate Rachel handed her. “Someone had to do it. You don’t mind, do you, Seth?”

He chuckled. “No, of course not. In fact, I’m thinking this day turned out rather well.”

“Ha. Told you, Mom.” She picked up a chicken drumstick, took a bite and pointed it toward Seth.

“Have you tried your chicken yet? My mom makes the best fried chicken ever.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Rachel admonished. “And we haven’t said grace yet.”

Seth had been reaching for his chicken breast, but he stopped midmovement at Rachel’s reminder that they needed to pray before their meal.

It wasn’t something he was used to doing—not since his youth when he lived with his parents. He was used to diving straight into his meal, and this meal definitely seemed worth diving into. His stomach growled when the delectable, greasy smell of fried chicken reached his nose, and his mouth watered in anticipation. He usually limited himself to grilled meat served with lots of fresh fruits and vegetables, but he wasn’t about to pass up homemade fried chicken.

This was a special occasion, right?

It was all he could do not to take a bite of his chicken, but he restrained himself and politely bowed his head.

“Would you like to say grace?”

With his eyes closed, he didn’t immediately realize Rachel was speaking to him.

“Seth?”

His eyes popped open to find Rachel and Zooey both staring at him.

“I—er—I’m more of a Christmas and Easter kind of man. So I—Well, I’m out of practice. You go ahead.” His voice sounded stilted and awkward, even to him.

“I’m sorry. I just assumed—I see your parents and sister at church every Sunday. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” he assured her, even though he was itching in his skin.

He searched his mind for a way to describe his current relationship with the Lord, but nothing sounded right. It was too complicated for casual conversation. He believed in God, but God hadn’t always been there for him.

Certainly not lately. Not when it really counted.

He was relieved when she spoke, removing the need for a coherent explanation.

“Let’s thank the Lord for our food.”

Quietly and with gentle reverence, she offered heartfelt gratitude for the food, the day and the company.

Seth shifted uncomfortably. He’d been raised in a Christian home and, since he’d returned from the army, occasionally attended church services with his family, but religion didn’t play a big part in his life anymore.

He cracked his eyes open to watch Rachel pray and noticed he wasn’t the only one feeling uncomfortable. Zooey’s eyes were also open, her gaze on her folded hands. Or rather, she was frowning at her clenched hands. He was surprised she didn’t seem tapped into faith. He certainly had been at her age, with his family’s example all around him, and from the way that Rachel prayed, it was clear that faith was important to her and played a big role in her home.

Rachel’s grace wasn’t dry or bottled, but rather she spoke from her heart, which Seth admired and, if he was being honest, envied. He missed the innocence of his youth, of a faith that transcended the trials of daily life, but he’d seen far too much of the world not to question what he believed.

Still, he echoed her amen.

Zooey scooped a forkful of macaroni salad into her mouth and chewed slowly. A group of young men Seth guessed to be around Zooey’s age walked by, jostling and shoving and trying to talk over each other. Zooey didn’t turn her head, but her gaze trailed after the guys.

Rachel must have seen that, as well.

“It’s a good thing they didn’t allow the teenage guys to participate in the auction,” she said after swallowing her bite of baked beans.

The boys had moved out of hearing distance, but that didn’t stop the blush that rose to the teenager’s cheeks.

“Mom,” she whispered harshly. “That is so uncool. They could have heard you.”

A little adolescent and overdramatic for Seth’s taste, but it was an amusing scene, at least until Zooey tossed down her plate and popped to her feet.

“I am so out of here.”

“Sit down and finish eating.” Rachel’s voice was low and even, but Seth could hear the barely contained tension coating her voice. Her daughter seemed all too willing to ignore it.

“Zooey,” Rachel called after her, but the teenager loped away as if she hadn’t heard, joining a group of friends on the other side of the green.

Rachel sighed and rested her forehead against her palm. “I’m getting a migraine. Sometimes I really don’t know what to do with that girl.”

Seth chuckled. “She’s a teenager. Most of the time, rebellion is written in their DNA. Are you going to tell me you didn’t get into a few scrapes and give your mom a hassle when you were sixteen?”