by Lois Richer
“D-doesn’t look l-like it w-worked for y-you,” Noah shot back after a quick survey of the house.
Cassie’s face turned a deep shade of crimson, but she didn’t say anything to Noah. Rick shrugged off the boy’s comment, though the words hit a nerve deep inside.
“I don’t think God has plans for me to marry,” he said, finding himself avoiding Cassie’s gaze. “Did your dad cook?”
“N-no. That was M-Mom’s j-job.” Belligerence glowed in Noah’s blue eyes as he watched Rick remove their dinner plates.
“Lots of men think that way. But everyone should learn how to take care of himself, Noah,” Rick said quietly. “That’s the meaning of becoming an adult.”
Noah’s mouth pinched tight.
Lord, help me help them.
“What about when your mom was at work?” Rick asked.
Cassie opened her mouth to speak, but Rick gave the tiniest shake of his head. After a moment of indecision she gave in, but her expression warned that she would not allow Rick to continue to probe into their past.
“M-Mom had it r-ready for us.” Noah glared at him.
Rick nodded, his suspicions about Cassie and Noah’s past confirmed. Her husband hadn’t been willing to do his share while she worked, and he’d taught Noah by example. As Rick set the bowls and spoons on the table, he noticed Noah absently rubbing his shoulder, as if it were still bothering him.
“Did you mind your mom going to work?” Rick asked.
“I d-dunno.” Noah lifted his head just enough to shoot Cassie a dark look. “S-she worked a l-lot m-more after D-dad died.”
“I had to, Noah,” Cassie exclaimed. “We needed my salary to live on.”
“It couldn’t have been easy for either one of you.” Rick set the steaming pudding beside his place. He served Cassie first, then a frowning Noah. “I’m sure your mom would have preferred to be home with you. Sometimes parents have to make hard choices.”
Noah muttered something unintelligible as he accepted his dish with a turned-up nose. When he tentatively tasted his pudding, his eyes expanded. “Hey, it’s g-good.”
Rick burst out laughing. “You were expecting gruel?” he asked.
For the first time that evening, Noah smiled. “S-sort of,” he admitted.
“It is delicious, Rick.” Cassie smiled, but Rick noticed that the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“Thanks.” He laughed when Noah scooped the last spoonful from his dish with gusto, then held out his bowl for a second helping. “Maybe Noah and I could make it at Lives one night.” Noah shot him a dubious look. “It would save Sara from making dessert.”
“Isn’t th-that what she’s p-paid for?” Noah asked.
“Noah!” Cassie’s cheeks burned.
“Is that why you think Sara works at Lives?” Rick asked. “For the money?” He shook his head, deliberately keeping his voice light. “I’m pretty sure she could get two or three times her salary at a fancy hotel in Vancouver.”
“Then wh-why doesn’t s-she?”
“Because she loves the boys,” Rick told him quietly. “Sara never had anyone to love or care about her when she was young. She doesn’t want another kid to go through what she experienced. She wants everyone who comes to Lives to feel loved. That’s why she spends so many hours coming up with delicious meals. Not because she has to,” he emphasized. “Because she wants to.”
Noah said nothing, but as the boy stared at the table, his second dish of pudding half-eaten, Rick could tell that what he’d said had made an impact. He shifted his gaze to Cassie and she nodded her approval.
“Well, if you’re both finished, I guess it’s time for cleanup.” Rick winked at Cassie. “I have a rule in my house that women don’t do dishes. So I guess it’s up to you and me.”
Noah jerked upright, his face full of dismay.
“Come on,” Rick urged him. “Let’s get started.”
“Wh-where’s the d-dishwasher?” Noah looked around the kitchen.
“Don’t have one.” Rick stacked their plates nonchalantly. “I do dishes by hand. Come on, dude. I’ve got a game ready, but we have to clean up this mess so we can use the table.”
Noah stayed put until Cassie raised her eyebrows. He rose slowly, using his fingertips to carry the dirty dishes to the counter. Rick had to grin as Cassie turned away to hide her amusement.
“Don’t worry about getting your hands dirty, son,” he said in an avuncular tone. “They’ll get really clean when you start washing.”
He gibed, cajoled and teased Noah mercilessly, waiting for the boy to explode. But Noah didn’t. He was angry, no doubt about that. But he stuffed down his emotions and soldiered on, which was the way he dealt with everything.
“Good job, Noah,” he said as he removed the waterproof apron he’d tied around the boy’s waist when they’d finished. “When Sara and Kyle come for a meal, Kyle refuses to wash dishes. He claims he has an allergy to dish soap.”
“I th-think I d-do, too,” Noah sputtered. He held out his reddened hands as proof.
“Nah,” Rick said after a quick inspection. “That’s just hot water. Really, thanks for your help, Noah. I hate doing dishes alone. Come on, let’s play.”
Noah didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look quite as miserable as he had. They played several rousing games and with each one Rick noticed that Noah seemed to shed more of the negativity that had clung to him since he’d first arrived.
“How about a drink before the next round?” Rick asked. “I could make some cocoa. I promise not to make you wash the cup, Noah.”
Noah actually smiled, but his attention was on something else.
“N-no, thanks,” Noah said. “C-could I l-look at those old b-books?” He motioned to a stack on the bookshelf in the farthest corner of the living room.
“You like old books?” Rick couldn’t hide his surprise. He hadn’t taken Noah-of-the-earbuds for the bookish type.
“I l-like h-history,” Noah stuttered.
“Help yourself, then. Your mom and I will stay here and talk.” Rick turned on the kettle then switched on his stereo. Soft hymns of praise filled the room. “Cocoa or coffee?” Rick asked Cassie.
“Cocoa’s great.” She had her knitting out. The needles clicked furiously.
By the time Rick set a big mug of cocoa in front of Cassie, Noah was sitting on the floor, swaying to the music, totally engrossed in the book he was reading.
“Thank you for doing this,” Cassie murmured.
“I don’t know if tonight has helped him much, but I’ve learned a few things.” Cassie raised a questioning eyebrow so Rick continued, keeping his voice very soft. “He’s suppressing a lot of anger—more than I had realized.”
“I’m not sure I know what to do about it, though. He’s still not ready to talk.” Cassie’s brown-eyed stare brimmed with doubt.
Trust, Rick wanted to urge her. Trust God to help. “As long as you keep talking to him, that should help.” He sipped his cocoa, then decided to say what was in his heart. “It won’t be an easy path, but God will be with you if you ask Him, Cassie. God’s love isn’t conditional. It’s everlasting. No matter where you go, what you do, He will always love you. You can never escape God’s love.”
“You sound like my father.” It was clear by her tone that she didn’t mean this as a compliment.
“Have you figured out what to do about that yet?”
He could see that she hadn’t in the tense rigidity of her shoulders He felt a little tense, too, knowing that he still hadn’t told her the complete truth about his relationship with John.
“You keep saying God’s love endures,” she finally said, sounding very much like her angry son. “That we can’t lose it.”
“You can’t.” Rick couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and brushing a wispy curl from her cheek with his forefinger. “Is that what you think, that you’ve lost God’s love? Because you’re wrong. God loves you, always has.”
“Then why does
n’t He show it?”
“Why do you think He hasn’t, Cassie?” Rick’s heart ached for the pain she kept built up inside. “He brought you away from your troubles, gave you several jobs here in Churchill. He gave you a wonderful friend in Laurel, and the chance to make more friends. God didn’t abandon you, Cassie. He’s right beside you.”
Rick wanted to say more, to make her see how deep God’s love for her was. But Noah stood at the end of the table, his face red and angry.
“What’s wrong, Noah?” Cassie frowned.
“Wh-why do these b-books have my g-grandfather’s name in th-them?” he demanded, thrusting out his hand with an old volume clutched in it.
Cassie looked at Rick in surprise.
“When I was living on the streets, your grandfather helped me, Noah. A lot.” Rick said it evenly, meeting the boy’s glare head-on. “Because of him I was able to finish school and college. Later he helped me get into seminary. Those books were his gift to me when I was ordained.”
Rick knew he was in trouble before Cassie shot him a warning glance.
“You kn-new.” Noah glared at Rick. “Y-you knew and y-you didn’t t-tell us. Didn’t you think you should tell us you knew my grandfather?”
“Noah, honey—” Cassie’s voice died away as the truth dawned on Noah.
“I see.” His gaze narrowed, his mouth tightened. “He already told you. I’m the only one who didn’t know.” His voice grew icy. “P-protecting m-me again, M-mom?” The scathing way he said it brought tears to Cassie’s eyes.
“She didn’t know about the books, Noah. I’d even forgotten how my collection of old books got started.” Rick felt as if every inch of ground he’d gained with Noah was sliding out from under his feet. Worse than that, Cassie was now in trouble with her son, too.
“I w-want to l-leave.” Noah dropped the offending book on the table, walked toward the door and grabbed his coat.
Cassie rose to her feet slowly. Her eyes met his and he knew exactly what her silent stare was asking.
Where’s God now, Rick?
Chapter Six
For an entire week Cassie fretted over Noah. No matter how she examined her situation, she could not align it with Rick’s assurance of God’s love.
If God loved her so much, why didn’t He help Noah?
But actually, maybe it wasn’t God’s fault. She probably should have told Noah that Rick had known his grandfather, especially because she knew how much Noah resented being kept out of the loop. He felt she treated him like a child.
She watched as Rick led the kids through their songs, savoring the familiar tunes. But she lost all sense of space and time when Noah began to sing in a pure, clear tenor tone.
He had his grandfather’s sense of music. Her dad had always loved singing and for a moment she desperately wanted to hear his voice again.
“Still brooding over Noah?” Rick slid into the pew where she’d sat to wait while the choir members cleaned up after practice.
“I’m not brooding,” Cassie said defiantly, then sighed. “Maybe I am.”
“I’m sorry.” Rick touched her hand and Cassie felt that electricity she’d been working so hard to ignore. “What does Noah say?”
“He won’t talk to me. He hardly speaks at all anymore because his stuttering is so bad. And this morning I noticed two new bruises.” She swallowed the tears that threatened, hating that she’d become so desperate to confide her worries in Rick. “I think he’s fighting. He did in Toronto. That’s one of the reasons I decided to move.”
“I wanted to talk to you about that.” Rick’s green pupils bored into her. “One of the choir kids hinted that Noah’s being bullied.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. I’m sorry you’re so deep in this with us, Rick,” Cassie said and meant it. “Ordinarily I’d sound out Laurel, but she’s busy trying to get another grant and I don’t want to bother her with my problems.”
“You can talk to me anytime, Cassie. You know that.”
“Thanks.” Cassie told herself not to feel special, that Rick gave that smile to everyone. But that did nothing to douse the warm glow inside. “I’ve had three conferences with Noah’s teachers this week. Each of them expressed worry about his negative attitude. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Pray. Trust God to help you.” Rick gave her a sad smile. “I know what you’re going to say, Cassie. You don’t feel you can trust Him.”
“No, I don’t,” she said.
“You’re taking the view that bad things are God’s fault because He doesn’t stop them.” Rick leaned forward to thank Bryan for gathering the choir’s music.
Cassie couldn’t help noting how unfailingly polite Rick was to everyone. He had an amazing rapport with a lot of Churchillians. Rick showed compassion and understanding, which made her feel terrible about being suspicious of his motives. And yet, she’d seen her father use his charm to coerce his board into doing as he requested. And Eric had flaunted his early triumphs with the church’s investments in order to get more from the congregation.
So, even though Cassie was impressed by Rick’s interactions with the boys at Lives, she couldn’t help suspecting that somehow, some way, he would use those triumphs to his own advantage. That’s what the charismatic men she’d known had done. Guilt over her suspicions nagged her, but past experience was hard to shake.
She heard Rod call, “Snowball fight,” and the rush of feet hurtling toward the door. Then all was quiet inside the church.
“Cassie?” Rick’s hand pressed hers, drawing her attention back to the present, to the gentleness of his touch and his voice.
Somehow Rick only had to touch her, to reassure her, and her reservations about him flew from her mind. She had to be careful.
“Where did you go to just now?” He leaned forward, his focus totally on her.
“I was thinking about my father and Eric.” And, because honesty was the best policy, she felt compelled to add, “and you.”
“Me?” Confusion filled his expressive eyes. “Are you likening me to these men you don’t seem to hold in very high esteem?” There was no amusement in the question.
“Not exactly. It’s more that I see their actions more clearly now in hindsight,” she said.
“And you think I’m like them.” There was no anger evident in Rick’s voice or his expression. He simply leaned back and waited for her explanation.
And that, Cassie decided, was the difference.
“I don’t think you’re like them at all. You don’t work people.”
“You mean I don’t use them?” He raised one eyebrow, then smiled when she nodded. “Everyone has problems they’re working through, everyone has reasons for their behavior that I can’t possibly fathom. Everyone is doing the best they can to get through their lives.” He shrugged. “It’s my job as a pastor to help them on that journey, not to judge them.”
“Does that apply to those who wrong you?” Cassie asked. As she waited for his answer, she was distracted by his good looks. His dark hair was a tousled mess. On someone else it would have looked unkempt but on Rick it added a mischievous quality and rendered him younger-looking than his thirty-one years.
“It applies to everyone, Cassie.” Rick’s dark eyes glowed as he spoke. “Yes, I get frustrated when people don’t see my vision or accept my ideas. I’m human. But getting frustrated doesn’t mean I expect them to give up their principles or objections.”
“Why not?” His statement roused her curiosity.
“Because God shows Himself in different ways to different people. I have to keep my focus on showing God’s love to people and leave the rest up to Him.” Rick smiled. “And He does love us, Cassie. In Psalms it says He keeps an eye on us all the time. He remembers our prayers and He gathers our tears in a bottle. Those are the actions of someone who loves us dearly.”
She mulled that over. But before she could pursue it, Michael burst into the sanctuary.
“Cassie, you have to come. Noah
fell and hurt his arm.”
Oh, God, her heart cried.
“He’s sitting in the snow,” Michael added as he raced beside her through the foyer. “When we try to help him up, he screams.”
“He’ll be okay, Cassie,” Rick said, his quiet assurance filling her ear.
“Because God will help?” she demanded as she shoved open the door. “I should never have brought him to Churchill.” Rick followed close behind. She saw Noah on the ground and her heart stopped. “It was a mistake.”
“Or maybe God will turn this into a blessing,” Rick murmured. Cassie ignored him and raced to her son.
“Where does it hurt?” she asked Noah, brushing a tender hand across his tousled hair.
“My arm. I think it’s broken.”
“I think so, too,” Cassie murmured. “We have to get you to the hospital so they can set it. We’ll help you stand, honey.” She felt Rick move silently to help Noah stand and was overly conscious of his strong, supporting hand under her elbow, helping her into his car after they’d settled Noah. It would be so easy to lean on Rick. But his comment about Noah’s injury being a blessing infuriated her. How could getting hurt be a blessing? She remained silent while Rick drove them to the medical center. Rick sat only inches away, but she couldn’t speak to him.
To think that she’d been teetering on the edge of trusting.
Rick was wrong. God should have protected her boy. God’s love had failed Noah.
But so had she.
*
“Noah?”
Rick watched as Cassie tentatively stepped into the treatment room after talking to the doctor, her face ashen. He followed her not because he had a right to be there, but because he very much wanted to help, to erase the vestiges of terror that he could still see in her eyes.
“I’m f-fine, M-mom. The d-doctor says I b-broke my a-arm.” Noah moved his head when she reached out to smooth his hair.
“He also said you have a lot of bruises that have nothing to do with your broken arm. How did they happen, Noah?” Cassie sat on a chair next to the bed where he was perched.
“I keep slipping on the ice.”