by Lois Richer
“Okay. Stick to the main street. I remember your skewed sense of direction,” Laurel teased. “Don’t get lost on your first day in Churchill.”
“I’m better at direction now than I was.” Sara blushed, embarrassed by the reminder of her first faux pas after she’d left foster care. “I won’t get lost.”
She waited until Laurel had entered the building before heading toward Kyle’s house.
The thing was, no matter how Sara tried, she couldn’t seem to forget about him, and not just because he was so good-looking. Good-looking? Her brain scoffed. Kyle Loness was heartbreakingly handsome. Tall and muscular, the faint shadow of a beard defined the sharp jut of his jaw. Sara supposed he grew it to hide the scar that ran from the outside corner of his eye straight down past his jawbone, which, in her opinion, did nothing to diminish his good looks. And when he’d looked at her with his cornflower-blue eyes, a funny little shiver wiggled inside her, just like the heroines in the romantic novels she loved. How silly was that?
But it wasn’t only his good looks that drew her. The image of Kyle working on Laurel’s printer had been burned into her brain. Obviously he knew about computers. And she didn’t. But she could learn, if someone would teach her. Someone like—Kyle? Maybe he could help her find her family.
Sara scanned the street ahead and saw him standing where they’d left him. Her silly heart resumed the pattering that had begun when he’d stepped off the platform and stumbled into her arms. She tried to quell it by reminding herself that Kyle Loness would find little interest in her. Why would he? Sara knew nothing about men.
Is it only his computer knowledge that intrigues you?
Of course it was. He might look like a romance hero but Sara knew nothing about romance, men or relationships.
Confused by her thoughts, she refocused on Kyle, who seemed lost in thought. Then he straightened, stepped toward the house and jerked to a stop. In a flash Sara realized why. Kyle had forgotten about the stairs and was now trying to figure out how to maneuver them to get into his house.
She had a clear view of his face. The pain lines she’d glimpsed on the train when he’d hobbled to his seat this morning had now etched deep grooves on either side of his mouth. He bit his bottom lip, grabbed the railings on either side and basically dragged himself upward, inch by painful inch, increasingly favoring his injured leg. His chiseled face stretched taut with concentration as he fought his way upward. She held her breath, silently praying for him, only exhaling when he finally conquered the last stair.
When Kyle paused, chest heaving with his efforts, Sara wanted to cheer. The sun revealed beads of perspiration dotting his face. For a moment he seemed to waver, as he had when he’d stepped off the train and again earlier, in Laurel’s office. Sara took an automatic step forward to help, but froze when he reached out and turned the doorknob.
This was his homecoming. He wouldn’t want her there.
She didn’t belong. Again.
Hurt arrowed a path through her heart. She squeezed her eyes closed.
Focus on why you’re here, Sara. You’re here to help the kids. To figure out God’s plans for your future and to make up for Maria.
For years Sara had tried not to think about the little girl. But now, as she fingered the scar at her wrist, the memories burst free of the prison she’d locked them in.
She’d been twelve when she tried to escape her foster home, unaware that her foster sister had followed her onto the busy street—until she heard Maria’s cry when the car hit her. Sara had rushed to the child, cradling her tiny body as life slipped away, unaware of the shards of headlight glass that dug into her wrists, left behind by the speeding car.
Sweet, loving Maria had died because of her.
In shock and overwhelmed by guilt, Sara had been too scared to tell police the real reason she’d run, so after she’d relayed all she remembered about the car that had hit Maria and received stitches on her wrists, they’d taken her back to her foster parents, the Masters. The couple used Maria’s death to convince Sara that if she tried to leave again, her foster siblings would pay. After that, there’d been no need for the Masters to lock her in the basement each night.
Sara’s overwhelming guilt kept her in their abusive home. She had to stay to protect the other kids, as she hadn’t protected Maria. She’d stayed until her new social worker—Laurel—uncovered the Masters’ perfidy.
Almost eighteen, Sara had finally been removed from their care. But she hadn’t gone home because she didn’t have a home anymore. All she had were faded memories of her mother sitting on the sofa crying and her father stoically staring straight ahead while strange people took her away from them. She’d never known why it had happened and she’d never seen her family again.
Now she needed answers.
Blinking away her tears, Sara watched Kyle disappear inside his house. She waited a moment longer, then walked back to Laurel’s car, puzzling over why she’d felt compelled to ensure Kyle had made it inside his house.
“Because I saw how lost he looked,” she whispered to herself. “Because he needs help. Because… I don’t know.”
“There you are.” Laurel’s gaze rested on Sara’s hand as it rubbed her scar. She moved closer, touched a fingertip to the tear on Sara’s cheek then wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You’ve been thinking about the past again. Oh, my dear Sara. You’re free. God has something wonderful in store for you. Don’t let the past drag you down.”
“No, I won’t.” Sara dredged up a smile, hugged her back then walked beside her to the grocery store. But as they strolled down the aisles, she thought of Kyle inside his empty house.
They had something in common. Both of them had lost their families and neither of them could just forget about it.
Maybe, somehow, she could help him get over his loss.
Maybe if she did, he’d teach her how to use a computer.
Maybe then she’d finally find her family.
Chapter Two
Kyle rubbed his eyes, unable to dislodge memories evoked by the familiar aroma of his home. Tanned leather and Old Spice—it smelled of Dad, of happiness, of moments shared together. All of which were gone.
Emotion rose like a tidal wave. He fought for control.
When Kyle was younger, Churchill had been a fantastic adventure he’d embraced. Now it was just another problem in his life.
But for a moment, as the midmorning sun warmed Kyle through the window, the sensation of being loved enveloped him. He relaxed into that embrace. Comfort erased the pain of loss that dimmed everything in his world these days.
Home—without his dad? He closed his eyes and wept.
Moments later, footsteps treading up his stairs shattered his privacy. He rubbed his shirtsleeve across his face. The computer part. Of course.
“Come on in,” he called before they could knock.
Laurel preceded Sara into his kitchen. “Do you need more time?” Laurel scanned his face, then the empty tabletop.
“I haven’t looked yet.” He tore his gaze from the wall where a family photo hung. It had been taken six months before his mom’s death. “I was just sitting here—remembering.”
“You can help us out another time, when you’re more rested,” Laurel said in a gentle tone.
“I’m fine.” Kyle didn’t want to give Laurel any more chances to draw him into her program at Lives. He’d do this one thing for her now and then get on with his own life. He opened a door that had once been a pantry and nodded. “Yep, just as I thought.”
A small squeak of surprise made him glance over one shoulder.
Sara’s eyes were huge. She met his gaze, looked back at the shelves and said, “Oh, my.”
Finding her understatement hilarious, Kyle chuckled as he dug through his father’s accumulation of computer parts. “I told you Dad was a pack rat.”
“No luck, huh?” Laurel asked when he drew back from the cupboard.
“Not yet.” Kyle motioned to Sara.
“Could you help me for a minute? I think the printer is on the bottom of this shelf. If you could hold up this box while I free it, I wouldn’t have to waste time unpacking all this junk.”
“Okay.” She moved beside him and followed his directions exactly.
With a tug Kyle freed the printer, but in doing so brushed against Sara. Assailed by a host of reactions, from the fragrance of her hair to the way one tendril caressed her cheek, to the fierce look she gave when he had to yank on the cord to free the end, he realized that asking for Sara’s help had been a bad idea.
He moved away, eager to put some distance between them and hopefully end his heart-racing response to her.
“Thanks.” He set the printer on the table and opened it.
“If you explained how to reinstall it, I wouldn’t have to drag you back out to Lives. Maybe I could do it myself,” Laurel said.
Kyle lifted his head and arched one eyebrow. From what he’d seen in her office earlier, Laurel Quinn’s aptitude did not lie in computers.
“Yeah.” Her face turned bright pink under his look. Laurel laughed. “You’re right. I haven’t got a clue.”
“I can do it in a matter of a few minutes,” he told her as he lifted out the part she needed. He deliberately didn’t look at Sara. “But you will have to bring me back home after, and I know you’re busy.”
“I’ve got almost everything ready to greet the first two boys, Barry and Tony.” Laurel’s eyes shone with expectation. “I’m hoping that while you and I are busy with the printer, Sara will start some of her fantastic cinnamon buns for tomorrow.”
“I can do that.” Sara, cheeks pink, looked away from Kyle. What was that about?
“I’ve got what we need.” He held up the tiny relay switch. “I’m ready to go.”
“Oh, Laurel, I just remembered. We’ll need to move those groceries so there will be enough room for everyone,” Sara said quickly.
Too quickly? Kyle searched her face. A puzzled Laurel opened her mouth, but Sara grabbed her arm and pulled, insistent. Frowning, Laurel stepped outside.
“Come out when you’re ready, Kyle,” Sara said, her voice a bit forced. “We’ll meet you at the car.”
And that was when Kyle got it. Sara knew the stairs gave him problems. She was keeping Laurel busy so he could navigate without feeling as if they were watching him.
Her thoughtfulness eased the knot of tension inside.
Sweet, thoughtful Sara. Why couldn’t he have met someone like her first?
Kyle shut down the wayward thoughts. He’d ruled out romance in Afghanistan the day he’d been dumped, and he wasn’t going to change his mind now. Anyway, Sara couldn’t care about him. How could she? He was a ruined shell with nothing to offer a woman. He couldn’t even figure out his own future.
Kyle shrugged on his jacket, shoved the printer part in his pocket and stood. He’d get this done and then move on to his own business. Sara was nice, sure. But there was no point in pretending her kindness was anything more than that.
Self-consciously he tromped down the stairs and walked to the car. Once again, Sara was seated in the rear seat, so Kyle sat in front. Once again, he filled in the drive’s silences with facts about Churchill. And once again, after he got the printer running, Sara served him her delicious coffee along with a sandwich and some kind of lemon cookie that melted in his mouth. As Kyle ate, he quashed his yearning to linger, to get drawn in by the warmth of Sara’s smile and forget the emptiness that awaited him at home. He couldn’t afford to forget that. His future wasn’t here in Churchill. God had made sure of that.
So finally he pushed back his chair, thanked Sara for the lunch and asked Laurel to take him home. Sara walked with them to the car.
“I’m glad to have met you, Kyle,” she said, hugging her arms around her thin waist, revealing the scars he’d noticed earlier. “I’ll be praying for God to bless you with a wonderful future.”
“Thanks.” He wanted to tell her asking God for anything was pointless but he didn’t. Instead, as they drove away, he voiced the other question that plagued him. “What is Sara’s story, Laurel? Why is she here in Churchill? She looks like she’ll blow away in the wind.”
“You’ll have to ask Sara. Suffice it to say that she deserves happiness and I hope she’ll find some here. She’s a wonderful person.” Laurel smiled at him. “So are you, Kyle. Anytime you want to fill in a few hours of your day, feel free to drop by. Lives Under Construction can always use another hand.”
“I know Marla told you I’d be interested in doing that,” Kyle admitted. “But the truth is, all I want to think about right now is cleaning up my dad’s place.”
Laurel patted his shoulder then swung the van into his driveway. “After you’ve had time to grieve, please visit us, even just for another cup of Sara’s coffee.”
“I’ll think about it,” Kyle said, knowing he’d do no such thing. He climbed out of the car. “Thanks again. See you.”
Kyle waited till Laurel’s car disappeared, then braved the stairs again. Inside, the house seemed empty, lonely. He flicked up the thermostat and sat down in his father’s recliner in the living room. A notebook lay open on a side table. He picked it up.
“Two weeks until Kyle comes home. Yahoo!” His father’s scrawl filled the page, listing things they’d do together. Kyle slammed the book closed.
Why? his heart wept. Why did You take him before I could see him again?
Suddenly he heard Sara’s words in his mind.
I’ll be praying for God to bless you with a wonderful future.
Well, Sara could pray all she wanted, but whether God granted her prayers or not, nothing could make up for the loss of his dad.
With a weary sigh he rose and thumped his way to the kitchen, where he sat down to deal with the stacks of mail someone had dropped off. For a moment, he wished Sara was here with him. Somehow he thought that smile of hers and the calm way she approached life would make facing his not-so-wonderful future a whole lot easier.
But of course, imagining Sara in his house was just a silly dream. And Kyle was well aware that it was time he let go of dreams and face reality.
*
“Laurel, what’s an ATV?” Sara shifted to allow the flames of the fireplace to warm her back.
“All-terrain vehicle. Like those big motorized bikes we saw this afternoon. Why?” Her friend stopped working on her sudoku puzzle to glance up.
“Kyle mentioned an ATV.”
“Well, we have an ATV here,” Laurel told her. “But I’m not sure you should try riding it without some lessons.”
“I’m sure I can walk anywhere I need to go. I’m looking forward to it.” Sara loved to walk. In the time since she’d been released from the Masters’ home, she’d discovered the freedom of going wherever she wanted, of turning around, of changing direction without having every movement scripted for her. That freedom was precious. Sara ignored Laurel’s next remark about winter being too cold for much walking. “Tell me about Kyle’s father.”
“His name was Matt, ex-military,” Laurel said. “I knew him a little—a very nice man, full of laughter. He and Kyle ran a tourist business together. Matt couldn’t go overseas when Kyle got hurt because he’d had a heart attack. He didn’t want his son to know. I think the hardest thing for Kyle to accept is that his dad isn’t here with him.”
“There’s a kind of reverence in his voice when he mentions his father.” Also an echo of utter loss that Sara couldn’t forget. “He must have loved his dad very much.”
Laurel stayed silent for a few moments “Sara, you’re not comparing the love they shared with— Well, you don’t think of your foster father as your dad, do you? Because the Masters are not in any way part of who you are. They tried to ruin you, but you were too strong. Now your heavenly Father has other plans for your future.”
“I wish I knew what they were.” Sara wanted to escape the misery she’d endured. But at night, when the darkness fell, those horrid feelings of be
ing unloved returned.
Actually, they never quite left her. That was why she needed to find her birth family—to make newer, better memories.
“Hang on to the truth, Sara,” Laurel told her.
“The truth?” Sara wasn’t sure she knew what that was anymore.
“You are the beloved child of God. But you have to trust Him and be patient for His work to erase what the Masters did.” Laurel got up to press a kiss against the top of her head. “I love you, too.”
Sara squeezed her hand. But she waited until Laurel was busy making hot chocolate before she slid a sheaf of papers out of her pocket and studied them.
To find your birth parents we must have these forms signed and returned along with the fee and a copy of your birth certificate. This will initiate a search of our records.
So many times Sara had wondered about the mother who only came back to her in fragmented dreams. Who was she? Why had she put Sara into foster care? Why had she never come back? Didn’t she love Sara? Didn’t her father care that his daughter might need him?
In the past, Sara had come up with a thousand reasons why her parents had never come to retrieve her—fairy tales, happily-ever-afters, like the romance stories she loved reading.
But now she needed the truth. She wanted to find her parents, embrace them and let their love erase the past. She wanted to have what Kyle had lost—people who loved her always.
She wanted a forever family.
“Here you go, sweetie.”
“Thanks.” Sara hurriedly tucked her papers into her pocket before accepting the gigantic mug from Laurel. Laurel was as close to Sara’s ideal mother-fantasy as anyone had ever been, but even Laurel couldn’t fill her need for her mother’s love.
“Enjoy it.” Laurel smiled. “Savor this time alone because once the boys arrive it’s going to get mighty busy.” She sat in the chair across from Sara, her face serious. “Are you sure cooking here won’t be too much for you?”
“I’m sure.” Sara cupped her hands around her mug.
“Let me tell you a bit about each boy so you’ll be prepared.” Laurel gave a brief history, ending with the youngest and in Sara’s eyes the most vulnerable boy, Rod.