Love Inspired March 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: North Country Family\Small-Town Midwife\Protecting the Widow's Heart (6 page)

“What happened?” Cassie rose, wanting to enfold him in her protective arms but suppressing the urge, mindful of his glare of warning.

“I g-got h-hit b-by a b-ball.” Noah clenched and unclenched his jaw. “H-here.” He thrust an envelope toward her.

“You were playing ball in the snow? I see.” Cassie read the explanation from the principal.
Your son was involved in an altercation. Neither child was seriously injured but we will be requiring him to do detention.
It was signed by the principal. She glanced around. None of the other boys said a word and they looked everywhere but at her.

“The best thing for an eye like that is cold. Is there a bag of peas in the freezer?” Rick's apparent nonchalance reinforced her instinct that now was not the time to make a motherly scene.

“I'll check.” Cassie took one more look at her son, then opened the freezer door while Rick carried carafes of hot chocolate and a platter of cookies to the table.

As her pregnancy progressed, Sara now frequently rested in the afternoon. Cassie chipped in to help as often as she could. Lucy Clow also appeared almost every day to help, as well as some other local women. Now Rick was pouring mugs of cocoa for the boys. He made no bones about helping out anywhere he was needed, Cassie noted. Including with her son.

“Mind if I share your snack, guys?” Rick asked. “I'm hungry.”

“You're always hungry when you come here.” Rod gave him a cheeky grin. “Don't ministers get paid? Can't they afford their own groceries? Or can't you cook?”

“The answers to your questions, in order, are yes, yes and a resounding yes. In fact, I am an expert cook. As you should know, since you've chowed down my fried chicken,” Rick said in his own defense. “But it's no fun cooking for yourself. Besides, I'm not as good a baker as Sara is.”

“Keep that in place for a few minutes,” Cassie told Noah, pressing the bag of peas against his face as she regained her composure. “It should take down the swelling a little.”

“S-stop f-fussing,” Noah said in a harsh tone, exactly as Eric used to.

Cassie opened her mouth, caught Rick's warning glance and swallowed her response. She turned to refill her coffee cup while surreptitiously rubbing away the tear that had squeezed out the corner of her eye.

“She's not fussing, Noah. She's doing her job as a nurse and a mom,” Rick gently corrected.

Cassie was grateful for his support. When she returned to her seat, Rick's eyes met hers with an intensity she couldn't avoid. A moment later Rick leaned over and whispered something in Noah's ear. Noah frowned, muttered “Thanks” to Cassie, then returned to his hot chocolate.

Cassie wondered what Rick had said.

“So, you guys have lots of homework?” Rick asked the group, lightening the tense atmosphere. “Probably won't have much time left to play hockey, will you?”

“You wish.” Again Rod's sly grin appeared. “We got together at lunch hour and did most of it. Ten minutes or so and I'll be ready. You guys?”

The other kids nodded their agreement.

“And you, Noah? Are you going to be able to play?” Rick asked. “Did you do your homework during lunch, too?”

The boy's quick flinch told Cassie all she needed to know but she said nothing, content to let Rick handle her recalcitrant son.

“No.” Noah's sullen glare said it all.

“Oh. Right. You were hit by a ball. At lunch, huh?” Rick nodded then rose. “Too bad you have to miss practice today.”

Noah made a face at Rick but there was no malice in it. Cassie felt a twitch of hope that maybe finally someone was finally reaching her son.

She would have liked to hug Rick for that, but that would be foolish. He was just being a nice guy. Still, she couldn't get used to it.

“Well, guys, I'll get my skates on and dig the equipment out.” Rick put his used cup and plate in the dishwasher. “The Lord's given us a nice warm day.”

“It's not what I'd call warm,” Michael hooted in derision. “But at least it won't be too cold for the fireworks tonight.”

“Good thing it's a Friday and you can stay up late,” Rick said.

“Does that make a difference?” Cassie asked with a small smile. “It will be dark in half an hour. They could shoot the fireworks off before supper.”

“Now what fun would that be?” Rick joked.

His teasing wink stopped her breath and any rebuttal she might have made. For one brief moment, she let herself imagine that she could relax her guard and trust Rick.

Rick smiled, his eyes focused and intently unnerving, as if he could see into her soul and read the questions and doubts that hammered at her. “I'll be ready whenever you are, guys,” he said to the boys, then walked out of the kitchen.

It was several minutes before Cassie started breathing normally again.

* * *

“Don't you love fireworks?” Rick grinned at Cassie as the first boom resounded across Hudson Bay.

“Yes, I do. I wasn't allowed to see them when I was a kid. My father figured I'd be too tired the next day, though why he'd care I don't know. He was never home much to notice me.”

Her memories about her father created a lump in his throat. Why hadn't he told her the truth days ago?

Cassie raised an eyebrow. “What's your excuse?”

“I need an excuse to enjoy this?” Rick gazed up at the light display to avoid looking into Cassie's eyes. “I don't have one, other than I get caught up in the dazzle of it all. When that powder goes off, all eyes get lifted up to the heavens and everything stops to admire its beauty.” He murmured, ‘“The heavens are telling the glory of God; they are a marvelous display of His craftsmanship.'”

“Psalms 19.” Cassie tilted her head upward. “I memorized that in girls' club years ago. So how did you get permission to stay up and watch them when you were young?”

Rick hesitated. He hadn't told her anything about his past yet. Maybe now was the time to start. “I was a street kid, so there wasn't anyone to tell me when to go to bed. Sometimes there wasn't a bed, actually,” he said, attempting to joke. His voice sounded funny, even to his own ears.

He had to tell her he knew her father. How could he expect her trust if he wasn't honest? The absence of truth meant he'd essentially been lying to her and he didn't want to do that anymore.

“I didn't know that.” Her voice brimmed with sympathy. “I always think the hardest thing in the world is for a kid to grow up without a family. What happened to yours? If you don't mind telling me,” she added after a slight pause.

“It's not that I mind telling you, it's that I can't. I don't know what happened to them. I have no family.” Saying it still hurt—he couldn't deny that. “At least none I know of. The only thing I remember is living on the street. Maybe I wiped it out, maybe it will come back someday, but all I know is that I grew up in Toronto.”

“What's your first memory?” Rick noticed her gaze slide from the sky to Noah, then to him.

“It's not the first but it's my best one from those days. I was starving, panhandling to buy something to eat. A man handed me a couple of bucks then told me about his church. He said they had what you'd call a soup kitchen. The next day I went and I loved it.” Rick smiled at the memories. “The man was there. He welcomed me, acted as if I was the best thing since sliced bread. He made me feel worthwhile, important. Loved.” He choked up at the word. It took a few moments for him to regain control. “He was the reason I kept going back.”

“I'm glad you found him.” Cassie peeked at him through her thick lashes. Rick knew this was the moment when he should tell her the truth, but somehow he couldn't seem to do it. He didn't want to see the hurt fill her eyes, eyes that he had come to know so well in such a short time.

“Me, too. Anyway, that church basement is my first really good memory.” He touched her arm to draw her attention to the balls of blue sparks now exploding across the sky. “I don't remember how I knew I was Rick Salinger. I just knew.”

“It must be hard not to know your history.” The sympathy exuding from her warmed his soul like a healing balm.

“I can't say. I've only ever known that I was alone.” He pretended it didn't matter, but he couldn't fool himself that the age-old ache to have a home of his own and a family who loved him wasn't still alive deep inside, despite his vow to sacrifice both.

In a flash Rick relived moments of sheer terror from his past: hiding from a gang, trying to stay awake so he wouldn't get mugged or beaten, or worse, friends dying from drug overdoses. A shiver ran through him at how close he'd come to losing his life. If not for God and Cassie's father—

“I'm sorry no one was there for you, Rick.” Cassie must have seen through his pretense because her brown eyes grew soft. She touched his shoulder. “To be on your own at such a young age must have been terrifying. I wish I could erase the pain for you.”

“Thank you. But after that first day at the church, I wasn't totally alone any longer. That man became a good friend.”

Cassie's tenderness was almost Rick's undoing. No one except her father had ever expressed such compassion toward him and it overwhelmed him. As the light show continued to explode around them Rick gulped down the lump in his throat, grasping for composure. He couldn't tell her he knew her father now. Not when he was wasn't sure he could remain in control.

“How's Noah doing?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Okay, I guess.” Cassie sighed. “He wouldn't say anything else about what happened with his eye but I don't think he got hit by a ball.”

“No.” Rick had suspicions, but for now that's all they were. He wouldn't say more until he was sure. He waited for her to continue, watching her stare across the snow-covered beach to where her son stood alone, apart from the other Lives' boys.

“His stuttering was worse today. That's usually a sign that he's bothered by something. He didn't say anything to you?” She peered at him through the flickering light shed by a bonfire behind them, higher up the beach.

Rick shook his head. Colored sparks flared in a river-fall of light across the ice. “Tell me about your childhood, Cassie.”

“Not much to tell.” She avoided Rick's stare, but he could sense that she had more to say.

Whether it was their isolation from everyone else that led her to confide in him or the intimacy that the semi-darkness seemed to offer, Rick wasn't certain. All he knew was that her next words seemed torn from her.

“After my mom died, my father was too busy with his ministry to bother much with me. I always suspected he wanted a son to follow in his footsteps, so I was probably a disappointment to him.” Her words revealed a depth of hurt he guessed she usually kept hidden.

“I'm sure he loved you very much,” Rick said, wanting to say more.

“Then how come he never came to my awards days or the father-daughter events?” she shot back. “How come he was always too busy to see me in the school play? How come he missed my school graduation?”

The ache underlying those words made Rick want to comfort her, to pull her into his arms again the way he had the night she'd told him about Eric. If he didn't feel so guilty, he probably would have.

“Forget it.” Cassie inhaled a shaky breath, then exhaled in a short sharp laugh. “I don't know why I told you that.”

“Because you needed to say it.” Rick settled for touching her shoulder as a means of trying to offer comfort.

“He'd apologize, say how terribly sorry he was that he'd been detained. That's what he always called it—detained. He always said he'd make it up to me, but how do you make up for lost special moments?” She shook her head. “I never understood how he could preach about responsibility to other people and yet abandon me.”

“He didn't do it purposely.” Cassie gave him a sharp glance, and Rick took a breath. This had gone on long enough. “Cassie, is your father John Foster?”

A blast of brilliant fireworks went off above their heads as Cassie gasped, “How did you know that?”

“I knew your dad,” Rick finally admitted. “It was his church where I found solace. Your father is the one who welcomed me, fed me and got me out of scrapes more times than I can remember.”

Cassie stared at him as if she couldn't comprehend what he was saying. “Well, at least he helped someone.” Her raspy laugh wasn't covered by the racket from the explosives.

“Purposefully or inadvertently,” Rick continued, trying to figure out the best way to salvage the situation, “we all hurt the ones we love, Cassie. But one thing I always knew about your dad—the thing all us kids knew—was how much John loved you.” What was going on behind those stunned brown eyes of hers? “Remember I said you seemed familiar?”

“I thought it was a come-on,” she rasped.

“No. I recognized you. I just couldn't remember why.” Rick put both his hands on her shoulders. “Then I remembered. He carried your picture in his pocket and he showed it to everyone. He also had a photo of you in his office. He bragged about you all the time.”

Cassie took a few steps away from Rick as if to process his words. Rick decided to just stop speaking for a moment, to let her get a grasp on what he was telling her.

“I can brag about Noah, but unless I'm there for him, it doesn't matter,” she finally said.

“Cassie.” Rick grasped her arm and turned her toward him. He pointed to his chest. “I'm one of the reasons he wasn't there for you.”

When she spoke, her tone was scathing. “You don't have to make excuses for him.”

“I'm not. Your dad was the man who welcomed me every time I went to his church. He's the one who made us street kids feel safe, wanted, even if it was just for as long as we were with him.” He squeezed his eyes closed and whispered a prayer of thanks for the reprieve he'd been granted.