by Lois Richer
“What’s yours, Cassie?” Rick’s gaze pinned her.
“My resolution?” She blinked in surprise, though she knew she should have expected the question. But what to say?
Like a giant wave, the hurt rolled over her, lending a sharp edge to her voice when she said, “I’m going to rebuild my life this year.”
Rick studied her for several moments. Was that pity in his eyes? Cassie did not want pity from this man. She shifted uncomfortably, aware that the boys were now staring, too.
“Well, you’re in the right place, Cassie, because that’s what we do at Lives Under Construction, right, boys?” Laurel said, kindly drawing the attention away from her.
“Thank you all for sharing,” Rick added. “I’ll pray God will help each of you fulfill the desires of your hearts.”
In the clamor of the next hour of games, Cassie often felt Rick’s eyes on her. She studiously avoided looking at him, forcing herself to join the fun, suppressing all that she was feeling. But when her eyes accidentally met his, she knew she wasn’t fooling him.
When the boys could no longer hide their yawns, Laurel said it was time for bed. She convinced Rick to sleep in the family room because of the storm, and then Cassie persuaded Laurel to leave the cleaning-up to her.
She’d just snapped off the kitchen light and was about to go to her room when Rick’s touch on her arm stopped her. She shifted so his hand dropped away. “Yes, Rick?”
“I wanted to wish you the very best with your resolution, Cassie.” His green eyes swirled with something she couldn’t define, something that made her knees weak against her will. “I hope God will bless you and Noah as you start a new life here. I’ll pray you find what you need in Churchill and at Lives.”
“Thank you. Happy New Year to you, too, Rick,” she said quietly. “Thanks for coming to our rescue.”
She wanted to say good-night and go, and yet somehow she couldn’t leave. Time stood still, holding her immobile for several long moments, unable to leave. Finally he spoke.
“Good night, Cassie. God bless.”
Cassie turned and left the room, almost running in her haste to escape the rush of emotions that filled her. She sat on her bed, staring out the window at the storm that was no match for the private storm raging inside her, thanks to the way Rick had looked at her.
What was that she’d seen in his eyes? Was it pity? Sorrow? Need?
What did the handsome pastor want from her?
Perhaps that was the wrong question. Perhaps instead, she should be asking what did she want from him?
Chapter Four
A week later Rick accepted a refill of coffee from the waitress at Common Ground, the town’s favorite coffee shop, suddenly aware that he’d been admiring the way Cassie’s gold sweater accented her eyes for way too long. Those brown eyes had captivated him from the first time he’d seen that childhood picture in her dad’s office. He should have told her up front that he knew her father, but guilt held him back. He was part of the reason she didn’t get to spend time with her father.
Not only that, but imagining Cassie’s disgust if she knew about his past, the whole ugly story, made him hold his tongue.
“I’m glad I spotted you in here, Cassie. Doubly glad you invited me to share coffee with you. I’ve been wondering how Bryan’s doing keeping track of his blood sugar levels.”
That wasn’t what he’d wanted to talk about at all, but he couldn’t just blurt things out.
“There hasn’t been an overnight change. I still have to remind him periodically to check. But he’s getting better at taking responsibility,” she said quietly. “We haven’t had any more incidents like the day he arrived.”
“Great. That’s progress.” Rick paused. “And Noah?”
“He’s had two days of school and it seems like he’s wound tighter than ever,” Cassie said. “I’m running out of ideas.”
“I’ve been trying to reach Noah without being too obvious. So far, he’s polite but closed up like a clam.” Rick smiled, hoping to ease the furrow that marred her forehead. “But don’t worry. I’m not giving up.”
If only Rick could only find a way to help Cassie’s son as her father had helped him, maybe he could make it up to Cassie for taking so much of her father’s time.
“I know it’s not easy. You’re busy with your congregation.” Cassie’s eyes brimmed with hidden emotions, emotions that were just out of his reach. “I appreciate your taking time with him, Rick.”
“He’s a good kid. I enjoy talking to him. We’ve discovered we have a common interest in astronomy.” Rick studied her. “How are you doing? Is the job at Lives what you expected?”
“It’s much different than working in a hospital.” She fiddled with her coffee cup. “Mostly working at Lives is a breeze.”
“Mostly?” Rick leaned forward.
She smiled ruefully. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to help Michael. He struggles with seizures, you know. He needs an outlet to help him relax.”
“Your mother’s heart overtakes the nurse in you, doesn’t it?” A rush of admiration swelled inside him.
Her cheeks pinked and she looked down, avoiding his scrutiny.
“All Michael talks about is his saxophone.”
“Which is where?” Rick found himself admiring the way tendrils of her golden curls caressed the nape of her neck, and forced his eyes back to her face.
Cassie met his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“If you can find out when and where he last had it, maybe we could try to get it back. What do you think?”
“I think you’re a good person to work with,” Cassie murmured. “I’ll ask him. Thank you for the suggestion.”
“My pleasure.” He swallowed the last of his coffee. “I’ve got to get going. Lucy promised she’d practice playing the choir music with me this afternoon. We plan to start up next week.” He slid his arms into his jacket. “You are coming with the boys to the fireworks tonight, aren’t you?”
“After all the buildup you’ve given it?” Cassie chuckled. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Rick was trying to ignore the fact that she had the most wonderful smile, which was probably why he spoke without thinking.
“Mind if I join you to watch them?”
When she didn’t answer, he wondered if her silence meant she wanted to refuse. “You and the boys,” he amended.
“The more the merrier.” Cassie nodded slowly, as if she’d hunted for a way to get out of spending the evening with him and couldn’t think of one. “But if as many people show up as you claim, it might be difficult to find us.”
“With those rowdy boys in tow?” He shook his head and grinned. “Finding you will be a cinch.” Rick decided he needed to have another chat with God, especially with regard to Cassie Crockett. He was getting too interested in her and that did not bode well for keeping his distance. “Can I ask you a question completely unrelated to Bryan?”
“I guess.” She blinked, her confusion evident.
“You wear the most unusual sweaters. I’ve never seen anything like them. I wondered where you get them.”
“This?” She plucked her sweater away from her midriff. “I made it.”
“Really?” Surprise rendered him speechless as he imagined Cassie bent over knitting needles. His mental picture of a nurse was a steady, hardworking, earnest soul. Somehow he’d never thought of a nurse as artistic, yet the creativity displayed in her sweater showed a mind that loved beauty. It revealed yet another aspect of her that intrigued him.
“Why did you ask?” Cassie studied him with a certain probing look. Her “nurse” look, he’d dubbed it.
“There’s a woman, Alicia Featherstone. She teaches native culture at Lives. She also has a store in town where she sells unique things to tourists and residents alike. Many native artists sell their work there.” Rick noted the way her eyes flared in interest as she leaned forward.
“I’d like to see it. How do I get there?”
/> He described the location, then hesitated.
“What aren’t you saying?” Cassie asked.
“I don’t want you to think I’m nosy, but Alicia and I were both at Lives when you were at the hospital the other day. She admired a sweater much like the one you’re wearing. Alicia’s always looking for artists to stock her store so I thought you might want to sell some of your work. You did say you were hoping to earn some extra money,” he added. “Alicia’s great about taking things to sell on consignment, or so I’ve been told.”
“She liked my sweater enough to want to sell it?” Cassie blinked. “Then I will definitely talk to her. Thank you.” Her glance was turning into a stare. She flushed and dragged her gaze away. Feeling self-conscious, she grabbed her satchel off a nearby chair and withdrew the contents.
“What’s that?”
“This is my current project. I took it to the hospital to work on during my break today.”
It was going to be a sweater. Rick could discern that much. But it seemed far too big for her. And in his opinion the taupe and beige tones were the wrong colors for her fair complexion.
“It looks complicated,” he finally managed, unable to think of anything else.
“It is. It will look like this.” She pulled a sketch from her bag and placed it on the table for him to see. Her fingers trembled a little as she smoothed it out. “I started it a while ago. It was going to be a Christmas gift for Eric.”
Rick suddenly understood.
Cassie swallowed and visibly gathered herself. “But the yarn was very expensive and it seemed wrong to waste it. It’s way too big for Noah, but I can always give it away.”
“It’s very fine work.” His fingers seemed to reach out of their own volition to touch the length she’d already created. “It’s nothing like the ones you make for yourself.”
“No. I hand-dye my sweaters because I can never find anything bright enough.” She laughed and the tension disappeared. “I’m afraid I’m addicted to color. Eric wasn’t.”
Her voice died away. She stared at the yarn she held, her face a misery. Rick couldn’t stand to see it.
“You can talk about him, Cassie,” he murmured. “You can tell me anything you want to.”
“What do you mean?” She frowned at him, a wary glint in her eyes.
“I don’t suppose it’s easy to talk to Noah about his father. Moms always want to help their kids think the best of their parents, even when it isn’t always true.”
Rick wasn’t sure why he added that last part. It was something in Cassie’s manner that made him wonder if there might have been something bad going on with Eric.
Or was he simply envying her because she’d found someone to share her life and he couldn’t?
“I don’t want to talk about Eric,” she said firmly. Cassie stuffed her work back in her bag. “This is just a hobby.”
“A hobby is a good thing to have up here when the days are short and the nights long and dark.” The jewel tones she wore enhanced her natural beauty, but Rick didn’t say that. Instead, he said, “Go talk to Alicia, Cassie. If nothing else, you’ll find a friend.”
“Maybe I’ll go see her before I head back to Lives.” When Cassie smiled—truly smiled—it dissolved the tension lines around her eyes and revealed the full extent of her beauty.
Rick cleared his throat. “I’d better get going. See you tonight.”
As Rick left the restaurant, his head rang with a question—how could he escape the magnetizing lure of Cassie Crockett?
Did he really want to? His entire life he’d longed for someone special to help create the family he wanted. But he’d made that vow.
Until now, it hadn’t been a problem. This was the first time Rick had feelings for someone since then. The agonizing thing was, he could never act on them.
*
Cassie studied Rick’s disappearing figure. The big picture windows allowed her to watch him saunter down the street, talking to everyone he met. A small, silver-haired woman met him at the church steps. Rick’s face broke into a smile at something she said. Then he held out his arm and escorted her into the church.
Cassie finished her coffee and prepared to leave as her mind swirled with questions about Churchill’s youngest minister. Rick had an amazing ability with people. Please God, let him find a way to help Noah.
As quickly as the prayer filled her brain, she pushed it away. God didn’t answer. There was no point in asking.
Cassie was about to leave the coffee shop when someone said, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. You’re Cassie Crockett, the new nurse at Lives Under Construction. I’m Alicia Featherstone.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“Let me pay for my coffee and then we can talk at my store. It’s called Tansi—that’s Cree for ‘Hi, how are you?’”
“Oh.” Startled that this woman knew her, Cassie found herself escorted down the street and into a small shop. There she became entranced by the assortment of crafts. “This is a wonderful place,” she murmured in awe.
“Thank you.” Laughter rang in Alicia’s voice.
“Rick Salinger told me you were interested in my sweater.”
“Oh, Rick—he’s such a sweetie. I’ve never met anyone with a bigger heart.” Alicia leaned forward. “I loved your sweater. I have a hunch you wear the one I saw at Lives, but I’d love to see what else you have.”
“Right now, just this.” Cassie set her bag on the counter and undid her coat before she lifted her work out of her bag.
“I love this scarf of yours.” Alicia examined it more closely. “Anything else?”
“So far, just this.” Cassie withdrew the sweater she’d planned for Eric. “It isn’t finished yet, but this is what it will look like.” She set the sketch on the counter beside her sweater.
After examining the sweater, Alicia slid it back into the bag. “Bring it in when it’s done.” Then she reached out to finger Cassie’s scarf. “This is so beautiful. I love the color. Could you make six of these for me?”
“Yes, but the color won’t be an exact match.” Slightly dazed by the request, Cassie explained about her dying process and the need for hand-washing.
“We’ll make a tag with those instructions.” In a brisk tone, Alicia explained how she operated. “All your supplies are your responsibility. You tell me how much you need and we’ll set a price, but you won’t get paid until the item sells. Is that suitable?”
“It sounds fine.” Bemused by the speed at which she’d found another job, Cassie nodded.
“Great!” Alicia grinned. “I’m glad Rick told me about you, Cassie. I’m going to love selling your work. Isn’t he a great guy? We’re lucky to have him in Churchill.”
As Cassie listened to the other woman sing Rick’s praises she wondered for a moment if there was something other than friendship between the two.
Then she reminded herself that it shouldn’t matter to her. A wiggle of dismay filled her. She’d always suspected Rick must have someone who cared for him. He was too nice for it to be otherwise.
“Sometimes I think Rick and I are the only two single people in Churchill,” Alicia joked. “We’re both determinedly single so it’s nice when more singles move to town. Welcome.”
“Thanks.” So Rick and Alicia weren’t a couple. Why did she feel relief? “I’d better go get started on those scarves,” Cassie said.
“You have wool already?”
“Several boxes of it.” Cassie chuckled at Alicia’s surprised face. “I brought it with me when we moved.”
“Good. Come and have coffee with me sometime,” Alicia offered.
“That would be fun. Thank you, Alicia. Bye.” As Cassie left, her heart sang at the chance to earn money to put in her meager savings account. Thanks to Rick—again. He was turning out to be a lifesaver in a lot of ways.
Her heart gave that funny bump of joy that warmed her inside whenever she thought of Churchill’s young pastor.
Perhaps s
he should add her heart to the list of things she could no longer trust.
*
When Rick stopped by Lives just before the boys returned from school that afternoon, Cassie hid her smile. Judging by how often he’d arrived in time for meals, she thought it was pretty obvious the gregarious Rick hated eating alone. And, of course, this afternoon was hockey practice.
Rick was unbuttoning his coat as the boys trooped in, sniffing the air still redolent with Sara’s freshly baked cookies. Cassie waited for Noah, hoping today had been a better day. When he finally strolled into the kitchen, her hopes took a nosedive. The right side of his face was red and swollen, particularly around his eye.
“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.”