by Lois Richer
“Go, Rod. I’ll teach her.” Kyle knew he was doing what he’d told himself not to do. He was getting involved. But Rod said Sara wanted to find her family. He couldn’t walk away from that. “Okay. Tell me what you want to know.”
“It’s silly.” She avoided his gaze.
“Nothing’s silly. The internet is loaded with information. Let’s find what you need.”
“I want to find my family,” she said after studying him for a minute.
“Okay, then.” Kyle pulled up a chair beside her, trying to ignore the soft feelings her look of gratitude caused. He couldn’t ignore her beauty so easily and got caught up in the stare from her lovely silver-gray eyes.
Time lapsed until Kyle realized his thoughts had strayed to her full pink lips, imagining what kissing them would be like. He coughed, straightened and forced himself to focus. “Let’s start with a search on last names. Go ahead.”
Each time she tried to give up, he refused to let her. Gently, tenderly he repeated the steps that would lead her to find what she wanted. He returned her grin when at last her search returned results. “See? You can do it.”
“With your help. Thank you for being so patient.” Her smile blazed away his shadows.
Kyle basked in that smile for a few minutes before he got his senses under control by reminding himself of his intent. He was leaving Churchill. He was going to find a place where he could do something he loved. The fact that he had no idea exactly what that something might be nagged at him. But Kyle ignored it, just as he ignored the flutter of awareness that rushed through him when Sara hit the wrong keys and, to redirect her, he covered her hand with his without thinking about what he was doing.
“There’s not much here,” she said, obviously disappointed.
“Now we have to go a step deeper,” he told her, hating that sad tone in her usually musical voice. “Can you add anything to the information you’ve already given?”
“My mother’s name is Sophia,” she said, apparently unaware of the effect she had on him.
The lemon scent of her hair, the softness of her skin when her hand brushed his, the little gasps she made when something new filled the screen all contributed to breaking his concentration.
“Should I type in her whole name?”
“Can’t hurt to try.” He waited while she did. “That’s what searching the web is about, Sara. Keep putting in information, asking questions. Eventually you’ll find something that will lead you to the next step.”
“Yes, I see.” She gazed at him. “Thank you, Kyle.”
That sweet smile, those incredible eyes—Kyle suddenly knew that it wasn’t going to be easy to remain uninvolved.
Sara Kane was a very lovable woman.
But he’d met lovable before and it had let him down. He’d learned that lesson and faced the shame of it. No way was he going to repeat the experience.
Don’t get involved, he told himself.
You already are, his brain mocked.
He ignored that little voice and concentrated on showing Sara everything she needed to know.
*
“I did it, Laurel.” Sara felt like crowing with triumph. She slid the last pan of apple strudel in the oven.
“Hmm? Did what?” Laurel blinked at her as if she hadn’t heard a word.
“You’re tired. You should have slept in,” Sara told her. “Teddy said that’s what Saturdays are for.”
“Maybe Teddy can afford to sleep in. He doesn’t have this place to run. Not that he wouldn’t like to,” she added in a cranky voice. “He’s always trying to boss me around.” Laurel’s forehead creased in a frown.
“Really?” Sara frowned. “I didn’t notice that. Well, he’s being helpful. What’s wrong between you two, anyway?”
“He tried to stop Lives,” Laurel said, her face tightening. “He talked to town council about it without consulting me first.” She shook her head. “Whenever I look at him I remember that and the gossip his interference caused. It makes me furious.”
“Well, I think he’s over that. He’s a nice man and he’s trying to help us. So is Kyle.” Sara blushed at Laurel’s searching glance. “Last night he helped me search for my mother online. I even learned how to send an email,” she said, proud of her accomplishments.
“Good for you. You got a response to that letter you sent about your mom. Wasn’t that helpful?”
“Not really. They said the records are sealed unless I get her permission. But how can I get her permission if I can’t find her?” Sara shook her head. “It’s very frustrating.”
“I’m sure it is. But don’t give up. Maybe with Kyle’s help, you’ll find her or your father.” Laurel yawned again. “I’m going to work outside today. Teddy told me all that scrap metal someone left behind can be sold. We could use the money.”
“I’ve been thinking.” Sara paused, unsure about offering her opinion.
“About what?” Laurel said. “You’re a part of Lives, Sara. I appreciate your input.”
“Well, I was wondering if we should have an open house. To show people in Churchill what we’re about.” She hesitated then explained. “When I was coming back from the greenhouse the other day, I heard some women talking. They think the kids are dangerous. Maybe if they saw what Lives looks like, they’d feel more at ease, even offer to help us occasionally.”
“If people think that, it’s Teddy Stonechild’s fault.” Laurel’s tone was blistering. “He fostered so many rumors about this place, I had to keep reassuring them to get them to even consider allowing me to open. I suppose he’s complaining about my management again.”
“I doubt that, but it doesn’t matter, Laurel. What matters is how we get the town’s support.” Sara thought for a moment. “We could do it next Saturday, offer coffee and stuff that I’d bake. Nobody could take offense if they’re sitting around chatting.”
Laurel was silent.
“It was just an idea. You probably have something else in mind.” Sara shrugged.
“It’s brilliant. You are a genius.” Laurel hugged her so tightly she squeezed out Sara’s breath. “Can you make enough pies?”
“Why pies?” Sara asked.
“Because the men will come for sure if there are pies.” She chuckled then sobered. “But will this interfere in your work in the greenhouse? I know that’s important to you.”
“Rod and I have planted a few seeds,” Sara explained. “But we’re waiting until it warms up a bit. Kyle’s mom wrote the best planting time is the first week of June.”
Laurel gave her a speculative look. “You’re fond of Kyle, aren’t you?”
“I like him. Is that what you mean?” At Laurel’s silence, Sara looked up from her work.
“Actually I was wondering if you and he were romantically attracted to each other.”
Sara stared at her. Then she began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Laurel demanded. “Women are attracted to men, you know.”
“It’s funny because no one would be attracted to me.” Sara rolled her eyes. “I don’t know anything about men, but I would think they’d be attracted to girls who know things, who understand and enjoy the same things they do.”
“Sweetie, you are beautiful and smart. And you know plenty of things, which is why you run this place as well as you do.”
“That’s nice of you to say.” Sara tucked away the compliment.
“I’m not being nice,” Laurel said firmly. “I’m being truthful. In my experience, men like women who enjoy life. That’s you, Sara. You enjoy everything.”
“Cooking for those you love—what’s not to like?” Sara asked in all seriousness, surprised when Laurel exploded with laughter. “Anyway, you’re wrong about Kyle. He isn’t attracted to me. He’s not even going to stay in Churchill. He’s going to sell his home.”
“Really?” Laurel asked.
“Yes.” Sadness filled Sara. “He doesn’t think he can stay here and still have a full life. I wish he’d see a
ll the things he can do instead of all the things he can’t.”
“Maybe you can show him.”
“I’d like to,” Sara said, studying her friend. “But how?”
“I don’t know. Maybe if you got him to try some of the things he used to love.”
“That’s too big a step right now,” Sara said, certain that Kyle wouldn’t even consider it. “But maybe if I could get him talking—” She fell into thought.
“You’re planning something, aren’t you?” Laurel smiled. “I know that look.”
“I’m planning to have guests tomorrow. A Sunday lunch after church, like roast beef and mashed potatoes. And pie,” she added with a twinkle. “Perhaps lemon?”
Laurel smiled. “And who are we inviting to this meal? Lucy and Hector?”
“Of course.” Sara smiled. “After all their help, that would be natural. And Teddy, of course.”
“Oh, why him?” Laurel’s face lost its mirth.
“You can hardly deny he’s been a great help to us,” Sara reasoned. “Just removing that pile of junk makes Lives look so much better. You said it yourself—we’ll take all the help we can get.”
“But that’s not the reason, is it?”
“Of course not.” Sara spared a moment to imagine her friend with someone special in her life.
“You’re not—” Laurel hesitated. “You’re not trying to matchmake, are you? Because I am in no way interested in Teddy Stonechild.”
“I wouldn’t dream of playing matchmaker.” Sara covered her burning cheeks with her hands. “I don’t know anything about that,” she admitted.
“Then…” Laurel raised one eyebrow.
“My thought is that if we could all get together over a meal, perhaps the boys would ask some questions of Kyle and he would tell us what it was like to be raised here.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Laurel agreed. “But what’s the point?”
“If Kyle could speak about the past, share his best memories of living here,” Sara said, “maybe it would spark some desire to stay here.”
“Why does it matter to you so much, sweetie?” Laurel’s lips curved in a smile.
“Because he doesn’t have anywhere to go,” Sara burst out. “Kyle’s running away from here and from his anger at God over his father’s death. But he doesn’t know where to go and he doesn’t realize that life won’t be any easier for him away from Churchill. When he sells his house he’ll have nothing left of his past or his family. I don’t want him to give that up without counting the cost.”
Laurel whistled.
“What?” Sara asked.
“I’m amazed by your ability to see the hurt in people’s hearts.” Laurel hugged her close. “I’ve known psychiatrists who couldn’t have diagnosed Kyle’s hurt as well as you.”
“I just don’t want Kyle to keep blaming God,” Sara said, embarrassed by the praise.
“As I said, a very clever woman.” Laurel let her go. “Sunday lunch is what we’ll have. And next Saturday is going to be the grand opening at Lives Under Construction. Tomorrow we’ll ask our friends to help us put on a day like Churchill hasn’t seen for a long time. We’ll invite anyone who wants to come.”
“Do you think Kyle will come?” Sara asked anxiously.
“I think you’ll probably have to persuade him,” Laurel answered honestly.
“Then that’s what I’ll do. But I’ll pray for help.” Sara couldn’t keep the smile she felt inside from showing.
Feeling positive about her plans, Sara decided to try her hand at another internet search. She logged in as Kyle had shown her then typed in her mother’s name and a bunch of—what did he call them?—hits, a bunch of hits appeared.
“Please help me find her,” she prayed. But an hour later, she was no further ahead. She clicked off the screen. Maybe tomorrow she’d ask Kyle if there was a way to narrow the search even more.
It occurred to Sara then that she was running to Kyle with a lot of her problems. But that was only temporary. She’d soon learn how to search on her own.
In the meantime, she was going to use every interaction with him that she could to try to get him to rethink his anger at God and his future. After all, she was concerned about him and his insistence on self-reliance. She felt he used it to isolate himself. He needed her help.
Really?
Or was it that she needed to help him to satisfy the longing in her heart to see him whole, healed and fully engaged in life.
And then he’ll leave, her head reminded her. A pang of loss shot through her but Sara focused on something else, something that chewed at her.
Why did helping Kyle matter so much?
In the silence of the kitchen Sara searched her heart. She couldn’t help but acknowledge that helping Kyle eased that longing in her heart to be special to someone.
It wasn’t only friendship she felt for Kyle. But what exactly was it?
Chapter Seven
“So that’s what we’re planning.” Sara cupped her mug of hot chocolate, head tilted to one side as she waited for his response.
“A grand opening, huh?” Kyle finished filling the little peat pots lined up on the greenhouse shelf. Then he picked up his own mug. Sara followed him outside to the two chairs he’d placed in a patch of sun beside the house. The warmth told him summer was definitely on the way.
“Well?” she prodded.
“A grand opening is a good idea,” he admitted. Funny how he’d learned to discern the nuances in Sara’s voice; she sounded nervous.
“God is blessing us at Lives. We want the community to share that. So would you like to take part in our opening?” Sara asked.
Blessing? God was blessing Lives? Given that Kyle had witnessed a major plumbing issue while he was enjoying Sunday lunch today, he was of the opinion that God had messed up in the blessings department. But he wasn’t about to argue with Sara. He was weary of hearing her harp on the subject of God’s goodness.
“Why me? I don’t have anything to do with Lives.”
“You’ve had a great deal to do with it, and you’re welcome to have more.” Her smile teased him. “As much as you want.”
“Sara, I’m happy for you to use the greenhouse and I’m glad if the computers are of some help and I was happy to talk about my experiences living here with the kids the other day at lunch. I hope it helped them.”
“I think it did,” she said, eyes shining. “The way you talk about tracking animals, going on expeditions, even watching the polar bears and their cubs, that was amazing. I think we all felt like we were right there with you.”
“That’s nice,” he said, feeling trapped. “Thank you for saying that. But I’ve got to get ready to move.” She was getting too close. That intense silver-gray scrutiny of hers saw too much and that made Kyle antsy. “I have a lot to sort through.”
“I can help you,” she offered.
A heartfelt no almost spilled from Kyle’s lips, but he didn’t say it. It would seem as though he was throwing her generosity back in her face, and he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Yet he desperately wanted Sara to understand he could manage alone.
“Where would you start?”
“I don’t know.” Kyle weighed the negatives of letting her help. She’d be in his space again. And she’d leave her mark there. Even out here, in the fresh air, he was still inundated with that lemon scent of her hair.
He ignored the voice in his head telling him to reject her offer.
“In the living room?” he suggested.
“Okay.” She drained her mug then jumped up, obviously excited. “I’ve got two hours before I have to get back. We can get a lot accomplished in that time.”
“Sure.” Kyle led the way inside, certain he’d lost his mind in agreeing to let her help. “Where would you like to start?” Sara asked, her lips tipped up in an eager smile.
Kyle glanced around the room, which bulged with the paraphernalia of his father’s life, and again felt grief’s familiar weight.
“Let’s start with the magazines,” Sara suggested.
He checked to see if she sensed he was about to recant. But as usual, Sara was focused on the job to be done. Again his curiosity about her past bubbled up. What made her so driven? He was going to ask but Sara was all business.
“The hospital would love these magazines for their waiting room. We’ll throw out the oldest ones.”
“I’ll do that.” Kyle could deal with magazines and newspapers, even if they were of the hunting and fishing variety, which his father had loved.
“Okay. I’ll collect all the knickknacks so you can decide which to keep.” Sara placed the objects on the square glass coffee table where Kyle had colored as a child, humming as she worked.
Kyle knew the song. This is the day that the Lord hath made. It was from Psalms.
“Your father must have loved animals.” She held up the intricate carving of a walrus in her palm. “This is exquisite.”
“When I was a kid, a chief of a Native tribe gave it as a gift after Dad rescued his daughter.”
Kyle was surprised when she recognized the artist.
“I saw his work in a Vancouver gallery,” Sara explained. She gazed at him in that starry-eyed fashion of hers. “He’s one of Canada’s foremost sculptors. You were so blessed to live here, Kyle.”
Blessed? As a kid, maybe. Not so much now, he thought.
“I think God puts us where we can learn so that when we are in hard places, we have something to fall back on. Don’t you?”
Kyle pinched his lips together as he loaded the last of the magazines into a box.
“I love to hear Lucy’s missionary stories.” Sara dusted each item and the crevice where it had lived. “Her stories remind me over and over that God is always with us.”
Kyle couldn’t stop the rush of words that tumbled out. “I don’t believe that.”
“I guess it’s hard to believe when things seem really bad.” The cloud in her eyes dimmed Sara’s joy, but just for a moment. The shadows disappeared as quickly as they’d come. “But it’s true. The Bible tells us that.”
“And you believe everything the Bible says?” he demanded.