A Match Made in Texas by Arlene James Page B

looked to Kaylie for his own assignment.
    “Thank you for helping to get him back into bed,” she told the older man.
    Stephen grunted in agreement. He wouldn’t have believed that the old guy could manage it, but somehow he had, though at the time Stephen had thought the transfer from the floor to the bed would kill him. He’d have bitten off his own tongue before he’d have admitted it, of course. He was a hockey player, for pity’s sake, toughest of the tough.
    Kaylie dispatched Chester to move the sofa in the sitting room so the paramedics could get a gurney into the bedroom. He went out to rearrange furniture in his bare feet. That left just the aunts and Kaylie herself.
    “What can we do, dear?” Odelia asked, looking like a runaway from the circus, with pink foam rubber curlers in her white hair and a ruffled, knee-length, red satin robe zipped over a floor-length yellow nylon gown. Stephen would have laughed if he hadn’t been so busy trying not to whimper like a wounded dog.
    Magnolia, her long braid intact, wore a flannel robe over flannel pajamas, while Hypatia, her silver hair clubbed sleekly at her nape, appeared ready to receive visitors in tailored navy silk with white piping. Her silent, intelligent gaze contained a good deal of concern, along with a measure of speculation that unnerved Stephen. She had been the first to arrive after his fall, and he sensed that she at least suspected the cause.
    He closed his eyes to escape that acute amber gaze and heard Kaylie say, “Just pray for him. I’m pretty sure he’s broken another bone above the leg cast and dislodged the old break.”
    Stephen felt the terrible urge to cry, partly because the leg screamed and partly because a really bad break could mean the end of his career. If so, he—and only he—could be blamed. He had done some stupid, stupid things in his life and would never, apparently, quit paying for them.
    While silently berating himself, he felt the gentle touch ofseveral hands on his shoulder and chest. He looked up to find the Chatam sisters standing over him, their heads bowed and eyes closed. A glance at Kaylie, who hugged the footpost of the bed, showed that she, too, stood in an attitude of prayer. Before he could digest the amazing notion that they were actually going to pray over him at that very moment, Hypatia began to speak.
    “Father God, we entreat You, on behalf of this poor man. You know his great pain, Lord. You know the reasons for it. Give him comfort now, Father, please. Heal him inside and out. Let him feel Your great love and power. You have brought him here to this place for a reason, Lord, and we trust that it will work out for his best and Your great glory and honor. Make us blessings to that cause, Sovereign Father. These things we pray in the name of Your Holy Son and our Savior. Amen.”
    Stephen lay dumbfounded for several seconds before realizing that, to his utter shock, the pain seemed to have subsided to a manageable level. Oh, but surely that had more to do with the injection that Kaylie had administered moments ago than any prayer. Didn’t it? If so, it would be the fastest working injection he had ever received, but then his sense of time was surely skewed.
    Carol shouted up the stairwell that the ambulance had arrived, and Hypatia immediately went into action, herding her sisters from the room. “We had best get out of the way now. Kaylie can manage this.” She paused at the bedside long enough to look down on Stephen again. “We will be praying for your swift return to us, Stephen dear. God bless.”
    Stephen dear. It felt suddenly as if he had unknowingly crossed some divide and managed to plant himself in the bosom of the Chatam family. Nameless emotion swelled his chest. Unaccustomed to such feelings, he attempted to turn it off with an icy glare, but for once his game facefailed him. A tight smile curling up one corner of her mouth, Hypatia patted his shoulder comfortingly and followed her