Love Is Patient and A Heart's Refuge (36 page)

Rick looked over at the ledge full of flowers. Thought of the church services he had attended. The times he’d spent with Becky’s family. All because of a
deal struck with a man hoping for better for his grandson.

“What if it didn’t work?”

Colson pulled out a snow-white handkerchief and carefully wiped his tears away. “I could only pray, Rick. Pray that God would give me a second chance to let you see how love works.”

Rick thought again of Becky. Of their disagreements. Of their moments of closeness.

Of his growing feelings for her. Was that love? Did he dare think that he might have discovered that elusive emotion with her?

“Will you forgive me, Rick?” Colson asked quietly. “Forgive me for leaving you alone? And then for meddling too late in your life? For not being the grandfather I should have been?”

Rick closed his eyes as his own emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He hadn’t moved from his chair, yet much had happened in the past hour. And again he thought of Becky and what they had spoken of.

How could he not forgive his grandfather when over the past few days he knew he had much to be forgiven of, as well?

So he looked up at the man he had spent so much time running away from and silently held out his hand. Colson took it and in that moment the simple, wordless gesture was enough.

Colson cleared his throat and released Rick’s hand.

“I should tell you I’m making arrangements to have you moved to a Toronto hospital.” Colson smoothed his hand over his coat, still avoiding his grandson’s gaze.
“I was wrong to push you here. To issue ultimatums. I’m not going to hold you to it now. After you’ve healed, you’re free to do what you want with your life. I haven’t done well for you in the past. It’s foolish to think that I can do any more for you in the future.”

Rick felt as if his grandfather was holding open a door for him that he had yearned for since he came here. A chance to leave, to go back to the life and freedom he had missed so much when he first came.

A few months ago he would have jumped at the chance.

But now?

“The magazine is having some financial trouble—”

“Do you need some help?” Colson broke in.

Rick shook his head. “I want to see this through on my own,” Rick said softly, thinking of Becky. “I feel like I’m a part of something that has continuity. A past and a future.”

“And when you have brought this magazine around, would you stay?”

“I just might.” He looked up at his grandfather and a sudden thought came to him. “For now, though, I need you to do something for me. You set up a trust fund for me when I graduated. I have never touched it. I’d like you to do something with it now.”

“Just say what and when. I can arrange it this afternoon.”

“And one other thing. There’s a small photo album lying beside my bed. Can you bring that here, as well?”

“I
’ll be as discreet and truthful as I can, Jake.” Becky twirled the phone cord around her finger, praying Jake Groot wouldn’t change his mind. It had taken over an hour of talking, convincing and praying but they had finally come to a consensus on how the article was going to be presented.

“I have to confess, talking about Kerra was the last thing on my mind when I agreed to this interview.”

“God moves in mysterious ways, Jake. I think this might be an opportunity for redemption for you and Kerra.” Becky toyed with the tape recorder in front of her, surprised at how events had transpired. Surprised and thankful.

“Dilton is having kittens thinking about the consequences, but it’s been a good incentive for him to find Kerra before your magazine hits the stands.”

“I’ll pray you do, Jake.”

“Thanks, Becky. Whatever happens, we’ll keep it
quiet until your magazine comes out. It’s the least I can do for you.”

“You take care, Jake. And like I said, I will be praying for you.”

“You’re a good person, Becky. I hope the best for you, as well.”

Becky said goodbye, then hung up the phone, dragging her hands over her face. The call had drained her emotionally, but as she made a few quick notes on the paper in front of her, she knew she had done the right thing.

That Jake had done the right thing.

Becky only wished she could have done it face-to-face, but Jake’s and her schedule didn’t allow for it.

It had taken some time for Becky to come around to Rick’s way of thinking. The truth needed to be told, but in a way that freed Jake from his secret. Told in a way that built up and encouraged and at the same time was honest in its dealing with the subject matter.

As she turned back to her computer to type in what she had written, she thought again of Rick. Of his sorrow. Of the shame his mother had had to endure, being a single parent.

She composed on the fly, images of Rick and Jake intertwining in her mind. The child of an unknown father and the father of an unknown child. It were precisely these images she’d kept in mind when she’d spoken to Jake and convinced him to let her take a different direction with the article.

Now she mined these same images, reaching for the right words, the correct phrases, the proper imagery.
Her fingers flew over the keyboard as the words poured out of her. She read, corrected and reread, moving inexorably on to the end.

When she finally got there, she felt a momentary sense of disorientation.

Then she blinked, looked around her office with weary eyes and frowned at the numbers on her clock—1:15 a.m.

Her shoulders ached and her head was tired, but a sense of elation filled her. She didn’t reread the piece, but instinctively knew that this was one of the rare and priceless times that she had taken an ephemeral idea and faithfully transferred it to words on paper.

Painters must feel this way when a painting they’ve created matches the image in their head, she thought, stretching her stiff arms above her head. She had stepped out of her own comfort zone, pushed herself into an unknown place and this article was the result.

As she lowered her arms, she caught sight of a travel brochure she had, on a whim, picked up from the travel agency. It was a typical tropical scene. Waving palm branches above an azure ocean. Tanned, fit couples lazing on the beach, doing nothing productive.

So tempting.

She had canceled a lot of meetings to spend time with Rick. To be by his side as often as possible. And it hadn’t been as hard as she had thought. People had filled in. Tasks she thought could only been done by her had been completed. This afternoon, she got a call from one of the mothers of the youth choir. The minister had told the mother about Becky’s “boyfriend” being in the
hospital and she was volunteering to help out in the interim.

Rick was right. Saying no wasn’t as hard as she thought it was. And though she still had to battle her own guilt, at the same time it had given her an exhilarating sense of freedom. It had given her empty time. Time that she could choose to fill.

Something she hadn’t had in years.

She saved the file to a disk as a backup, turned off her computer and trudged out of the office to her car. She took a short detour, past the hospital on her way home, wondering what Colson had told Rick. Wondering what Rick was going to do now that his grandfather had come.

Would he change his mind about going back to Toronto? The magazine was going further and further down financially. It was looking so bad, she doubted if the article they had just done on Jake would be enough to turn the sales around.

It was out of her hands completely.

As she drove home, she sent up a quick prayer for peace for both herself and Rick.

Becky phoned the hospital the next morning to tell the nurses to notify her when Rick was going to be moved. She wanted at least to say goodbye before he left. The nurses said they hadn’t heard anything about him moving just yet but that they would call her as soon as they did.

She handed in her copy and went over the layout of the issue with Cliff Anderson and his assistant. Trixie had some problems with payroll that needed straightening out
and she’d had to cover for Rick on an appointment to discuss a potential advertising account with the magazine.

Each time Becky’s phone rang, her heart stuttered.

She pushed and prodded and worked through her lunch, but in spite of it all she wasn’t done until eight o’clock that evening. She hadn’t had time to eat and had managed on sweetened coffee all day. Her head was buzzing by the time she locked the office door behind her.

She made the trip to the hospital in record time, her palms slick with sweat. What if the nurses hadn’t told the new shift that she needed to be called? What if he was gone already when she got there?

She tried to stifle the momentary panic that gripped her, but by the time she made it to the station where Rick was, her mouth was dry and dread pushed against her throat.

She pushed open the door to his room and ice slipped through her veins. His bed was neatly made up. She walked farther into the room as if to verify.

The room was empty.

He was already gone.

A sob climbed up her throat and tears welled in her eyes as she gazed wildly around the room as if seeking some hint of his presence.
No, please, Lord, not without saying goodbye?

But the flowers still sat on the ledge. His bedside table was still cluttered with his personal effects. A book. The Bible. His photo album.

Becky swiped the tears from her eyes and picked it up. She flipped through it, surprise edged with confused excitement sweeping through her. There was page after page of different pictures.

All pictures of her.

“Hey, Becky.”

She spun around at the sound of Rick’s heart-stopping voice.

Colson was pushing Rick in the wheelchair into his room.

“You’re still here. You didn’t leave.” She fell back against the bed, relief sapping the strength from her knees.

“No. I’ve still got a magazine to run.” Rick motioned to his grandfather who nodded, smiled at Becky and left the two of them alone.

Then Rick pushed himself up from his chair and walked carefully toward her.

“Rick, be careful,” she said, stretching her hand out to him, unsure of how to help him. His ribs would still be sore and his one arm was in a sling.

“I’m not going to break,” he said quietly, coming to stand at her side. He looked down at the photo album in her hands. “I see you found the pictures.”

Becky couldn’t stop the blush that warmed her neck and cheeks as she laid it aside. “I thought it was your other album. The one with the travel pictures in it. I wanted to look through it again.”

“Why?”

“I was thinking of planning a trip. Maybe going somewhere once I have some free time.”

“Would you go alone?”

“I’m not a brave traveler, so I doubt it.”

“If you need a guide…” Rick let the sentence hang, and Becky felt a sliver of happiness pierce her heart.

“I might take you up on that.”

Rick faltered and Becky caught him by the arm. “You better sit down.”

He walked to the chairs by the window and carefully lowered himself into one. “I feel a little wobbly yet. Physically anyhow.”

Becky smiled and sat down beside him, trying to figure out where to take the conversation next. She wanted to ask him about the pictures. Wanted to ask him why he didn’t leave.

“I was talking to Trixie this morning.” Work was always safe. “About our financial situation. She said there was a large deposit made yesterday. For now we don’t know where it came from, but it sure is an answer to prayer. Do you know anything about it?”

“I confess,” Rick said, taking her hand in his, “I got Grandfather Colson to move some from a trust account he set up for me. A trust account I was always too proud to use because it came from him.”

“But that’s your future.”

Rick ran his finger over the back of her hand, sending light shivers up her arm. She tried to concentrate. Couldn’t.

“I decided to move it to a different future.” He looked up at her and tilted a crooked smile her way. “If there is one.”

Becky kept her eyes on his face, hardly daring to breathe.

“Becky, I’m sorry about the interview with Jake,” he said quietly. “Sorry for pushing you into a place you didn’t want to go. I was wrong to make demands. I was letting my own emotions get in the way.” He laughed lightly. “I want you to write the article the way you want it written.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She captured his hand in hers, questions she hadn’t dared voice before finally bubbling to the surface. “Was the magazine the only reason you didn’t go back to Toronto?”

Rick shook his head, twining his fingers through hers. “The magazine was an excuse.” He paused, then stood and pulled her to her feet. “You’re the reason, Becky. I don’t know how you feel about me, but I couldn’t think about leaving you.”

A soft flame kindled deep within her. “I love you,” she said simply.

Rick’s eyes drifted shut and his arms came around her, pulling her toward him. He winced but wouldn’t let go. He buried his face in her hair, his one arm holding her, his other hand tangling in her hair. “I’m not worthy of you. But I love you, and by God’s grace I will take care of you and become a person you deserve.”

Becky swallowed the emotions that surged through her. “You’ve got it wrong, Rick,” she said, carefully laying her head on his shoulder, holding him as close as she dared. “I don’t deserve you.”

Rick caught her head in his hands, turning her face toward his. “Don’t say that. I’m the undeserving one. I’m the one who was running away from God. And now I feel like I’m in a place I want to stay a while.”

He touched his lips to hers and Becky felt a gentle peace sift through her.

“But not too long.”

Rick drew back, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a world out there a, remember. You told me
you would be my guide. Don’t tell me I’ve downsized my Day-Timer for nothing.”

Rick laughed. Kissed her again. “And it sounds like you’re going to be filling up mine.”

“It’s all about balance, isn’t it?” Becky said, holding his beloved face between her hands. “You’ve shown me that.”

“I’m glad I’ve shown you something.” His expression became serious. “I’m glad I came here, Becky. Even though I resented what my grandfather had done in my life, God was using him. I’m so thankful for that.”

Then he touched her lips with his, as if sealing his declaration.

“Has someone been going through my stuff?” Rick looked around his office, his lips curved in a half smile as he limped into the room.

“I needed to get at some papers,” Becky said, walking to his desk. “And I left this here to show you.”

Rick followed her, recognizing the binder that lay there.

“This is the final proof of the magazine that will be coming out. Jake’s interview is in here.”

Rick felt a tingle drift down his spine. He had trusted Becky with this. She had said nothing about it, given him no hint as to what it was about and he hadn’t asked.

Now he would find out what she’d done with it.

He flipped through the pages, a gentle thrill of pride surging through him. It was a good-looking magazine, considering the budget restraints they had to work under.

He skimmed over the Triple Bar J article, taking a
moment to appreciate the pictures. “This looks really good.”

“I think so,” Becky said quietly.

And then, there it was. The garden photos Rick took were pasted in a montage down one side of the article, creating a sense of energy from the pastoral pictures. “Who did this?”

“Cliff. I let him go with it.”

“Nice job.” Rick glanced back to the headline. Seemed innocuous enough. Then he started reading.

And as he did, he realized that the article Becky had written had become a perfect blend of the two of them. She had injected a gentle humor and emotion he never could, but at the same time he could hear his own voice woven through. And then, down toward the end of the article, he read it.

The facts of Jake’s life written in the same, gently honest style. Written in a way that he knew he never could have done on his own, yet not in a way Becky would have written in the first month he had started at the magazine.

“How did you do this?” he asked, amazed at what he was reading.

Becky shrugged lightly, straightening a picture on the desk. “I tried to look at things from both points of view. When you told me what had happened to you, I tried to put myself in your place. Then I blended that in with what I knew of Jake and mixed in your voice.” She slipped her hands into her pockets, rocking on the sides of her feet. “When I phoned Jake about mentioning Kerra in the article, he was understandably reluc
tant, but in the end seemed relieved. He trusted me with a lot. He’s a good man, Rick. I wanted that to come out, as well.”

“You showed that. You did an amazing job.” Rick closed the binder and smiled at her. “It’s a great article, Becky. You have a gift.”