His Plan: Book 3 in the Crossing Midian Series - A Small-Town Christian Romance

Chapter 5

 Beau sat on the front porch in his favorite chair, a cedar Adirondack that their family friend, Coop, had handmade a few years before. A tall, oscillating fan stood to his right, the setting on full blast as it blew toward Beau, keeping him comfortably cool. He took a long drink from his glass of sweet tea before placing it beside him on the table. Condensation from the glass had transferred to his hand, and he swiped it down his pants as he watched T.J. finish mowing the grass in the front yard.

There weren't enough words to describe how much he cared for his nephew. Beau had been eleven when T.J. was born. Still just a kid himself, but he had been there through everything. He'd watched him grow from a tiny seven pound, four-ounce baby to the lanky teenager he was now. He'd been a playmate, babysitter, secret keeper, protector, even a ghostbuster once, when T.J. was six and convinced that a monster lived in his closet.

Beau doubted anyone knew T.J. better than himself. Maybe not even Wesley or Anna. Mostly because there are just some things that a boy will not tell his parents. Like how two years ago, he hot-wired the tractor and ran it into the back fence. Or that a certain uncle had showed him how.

The sound of T.J. stomping on the porch steps to shake off the grass from his boots before going in the house pulled Beau from his thoughts. The screen door slammed shut behind him and Beau shook his head.

"Thomas James," Ruth scolded from somewhere within the house, "Quit slamming that door!"

"Sorry, Grandma." T.J. replied, though Beau didn't think he sounded sorry at all.

A minute later, the teenager was back outside with a bottle of water. He crossed to the edge of the porch and let his upper body lean out over the railing before dousing his head with the water, uncaring that it splashed his already sweat-soaked t-shirt. Then he stood up straight and shook his head, sending water flying and making Beau laugh.

"You're looking a little wrung out, kid," Beau said.

T.J. rolled his eyes as he sat down in the chair next to Beau, who looked like a picture of relaxation, reclined in the chair as he was in his jeans and crisp, white t-shirt.

"You could've helped, you know," T.J. said with a frown.

"I helped," Beau replied. "I helped you take responsibility and keep your promises. It was a life lesson."

"Not exactly the sort of help I was hoping for," T.J. commented as he propped his feet up on the porch railing in front of him. "Plus, not everything has to be a lesson."

"Why not?" Beau asked with a shrug. "If Jesus can turn fishing into a lesson about obedience and trust, why can't I turn mowing the yard into a lesson about taking responsibility?"

Again, the teenager rolled his eyes.

"Didn't say you couldn't, Uncle Beau. I said you didn't have to."

Beau grinned. "But then, who would I practice my youth group sermons on?"

T.J. murmured something that Beau thought sounded suspiciously like, "Anybody but me."

"Speaking of the youth group," Beau said as he picked up his glass of tea and drank the last sip, "do you think your friends will come?"

T.J. shrugged and looked out across the yard. "I don't know. Maybe."

"How long have you been hanging out with them? I haven't heard you mention them before."

"A couple of months, I guess. They were both new this year."

"Are they who you were with yesterday?" Beau prodded, hoping that T.J. would tell him a bit more about his friends.

T.J. nodded. "Yeah. We hung out at the skate park," he said as he ran his right hand through his hair, pausing a second at his neck before dropping it to his lap.