Read Online Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel) by Brenda Coulter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brenda Coulter
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process his shock. "What do you mean?"
With a visible effort, she composed herself. "You know I've always tried to be a good Christian. But lately I've been feeling . . . abandoned."
Abandoned? If God could stomach a reprobate like Jackson Bell, he'd sure never turn his back on anyone as good as Laney.
"I don't understand," Jeb said.
"I know." Her gaze skittered away again and she nibbled her thumbnail, an old nervous habit she'd outgrown years ago. "But I can't explain it to you, Jeb. It's something only another Christian could understand."
He opened his mouth, but then shut it again. If he told her he'd just joined God's team, she'd want to talk about that instead of whatever was wrong in her life. And something was very wrong.
"I haven't been to church in two months," she said around her thumb. "I thought about going last Sunday, but I'm ashamed to show my face after staying away so long."
It was a good thing she wasn't looking at him, because Jeb wasn't sure his carefully arranged features were adequately concealing the dismay that had just steamrolled his spirit.
A crisis of faith. How on earth was he, a clumsy and clueless brand-new believer, going to help her through this?
He'd been looking forward to sharing his good news. He'd been counting on her to answer his questions and then hustle him off to church, where she'd get him signed up for the crash courses in Christian Living and Basic Goodness and so on.
But she was having a crisis of faith.
"I don't want to talk about this right now," she said.
That was a relief. Jeb just hoped that given time to ponder all of this, his beleaguered brain would come up with a plan.
"So how's the band?" Laney's chirpy tone was as artificial as her sudden smile, but Jeb didn't call her on it. When she was ready to talk, he'd listen. She knew that.
He was struggling to compose a truthful yet necessarily vague answer to her question when she spoke again, unwittingly letting him off the hook.
"You look worn out. What have you been up to?"
That, at least, he could explain. "We just did a six-week tour with only five days off," he said, watching as she slipped another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. "We had sellout crowds at almost every venue."
She nodded, absorbing that without comment. She was fiercely proud of his musical ability, but profanity-laced, sexually suggestive songs made her uncomfortable, so Jeb could hardly expect her to root for his band's success.
They never discussed it, but she had to know he wrote and performed that hard-edged music to vent the nameless fury that had swirled inside him for as long as he could remember. Being with Laney soothed his savage heart, but every time he'd left the calm sphere of her influence, he had reverted to his wild ways.
He longed to tell her things would be different now, but that would have to wait.
"I came home for a rest," he said, hoping God would overlook a half-truth told in a good cause. He'd have to dig through his stolen Bible and see what he could find out about that.
"You were more than just tired last night," she said. "You were depressed." When he opened his mouth to speak, she shook her head at him. "And don't tell me I just imagined it. I know you, Jeb."
"All right." He had to give her something, or she'd never stop probing. "This past week has been . . . difficult."
Sympathy wrinkled her brow. "Problems on the tour?"
He confirmed that with a brief nod, because it was perfectly true, wasn't it? Shari Daltry had been pressing him to deny his new faith, and last night Matt, Sean, Aaron, and even easygoing Taylor had glared at him with homicide in their hearts.
Laney touched his arm. "Tell me," she urged in that honey-sweet voice that was always so hard to resist.
"I will," he promised. "But later, okay?"
"You have dark circles under your eyes," she complained in her gentle way. "And you're too thin." She smoothed his hair back from his forehead, just as her mother might
With a visible effort, she composed herself. "You know I've always tried to be a good Christian. But lately I've been feeling . . . abandoned."
Abandoned? If God could stomach a reprobate like Jackson Bell, he'd sure never turn his back on anyone as good as Laney.
"I don't understand," Jeb said.
"I know." Her gaze skittered away again and she nibbled her thumbnail, an old nervous habit she'd outgrown years ago. "But I can't explain it to you, Jeb. It's something only another Christian could understand."
He opened his mouth, but then shut it again. If he told her he'd just joined God's team, she'd want to talk about that instead of whatever was wrong in her life. And something was very wrong.
"I haven't been to church in two months," she said around her thumb. "I thought about going last Sunday, but I'm ashamed to show my face after staying away so long."
It was a good thing she wasn't looking at him, because Jeb wasn't sure his carefully arranged features were adequately concealing the dismay that had just steamrolled his spirit.
A crisis of faith. How on earth was he, a clumsy and clueless brand-new believer, going to help her through this?
He'd been looking forward to sharing his good news. He'd been counting on her to answer his questions and then hustle him off to church, where she'd get him signed up for the crash courses in Christian Living and Basic Goodness and so on.
But she was having a crisis of faith.
"I don't want to talk about this right now," she said.
That was a relief. Jeb just hoped that given time to ponder all of this, his beleaguered brain would come up with a plan.
"So how's the band?" Laney's chirpy tone was as artificial as her sudden smile, but Jeb didn't call her on it. When she was ready to talk, he'd listen. She knew that.
He was struggling to compose a truthful yet necessarily vague answer to her question when she spoke again, unwittingly letting him off the hook.
"You look worn out. What have you been up to?"
That, at least, he could explain. "We just did a six-week tour with only five days off," he said, watching as she slipped another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. "We had sellout crowds at almost every venue."
She nodded, absorbing that without comment. She was fiercely proud of his musical ability, but profanity-laced, sexually suggestive songs made her uncomfortable, so Jeb could hardly expect her to root for his band's success.
They never discussed it, but she had to know he wrote and performed that hard-edged music to vent the nameless fury that had swirled inside him for as long as he could remember. Being with Laney soothed his savage heart, but every time he'd left the calm sphere of her influence, he had reverted to his wild ways.
He longed to tell her things would be different now, but that would have to wait.
"I came home for a rest," he said, hoping God would overlook a half-truth told in a good cause. He'd have to dig through his stolen Bible and see what he could find out about that.
"You were more than just tired last night," she said. "You were depressed." When he opened his mouth to speak, she shook her head at him. "And don't tell me I just imagined it. I know you, Jeb."
"All right." He had to give her something, or she'd never stop probing. "This past week has been . . . difficult."
Sympathy wrinkled her brow. "Problems on the tour?"
He confirmed that with a brief nod, because it was perfectly true, wasn't it? Shari Daltry had been pressing him to deny his new faith, and last night Matt, Sean, Aaron, and even easygoing Taylor had glared at him with homicide in their hearts.
Laney touched his arm. "Tell me," she urged in that honey-sweet voice that was always so hard to resist.
"I will," he promised. "But later, okay?"
"You have dark circles under your eyes," she complained in her gentle way. "And you're too thin." She smoothed his hair back from his forehead, just as her mother might
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