by Lois Richer
“He’s getting a ton of hits. Apparently a lot of servicemen and women want to talk about what they endured over there. I didn’t expect that. Most of the guys I worked with kept it inside.”
“Like you?” She smiled when he frowned at her. “But that doesn’t help.”
“Do you know a lot about keeping ugliness inside?” he asked, blue eyes darkening.
“I know something about it. I—I didn’t have a very good childhood, Kyle, but the memories got easier when I spoke to my pastor about it. He helped me understand that I’m not a victim, I am a survivor. That’s been important to me in letting go of the past.”
“That’s why you’re always talking about how good God is?”
“Sort of.” There was an intensity in Kyle’s tone that told Sara this was an important moment, so she said a prayer for words to help him understand.
“There wasn’t much goodness where I grew up. I watched as the kids who lived with me ached for someone to love them, someone to tell them it was going to be okay.”
“I have a feeling you did that for them,” he said thoughtfully.
“If I could.” Sara leaned forward. “The thing is, everybody goes through stuff, Kyle. Maybe they don’t have abusive foster parents like me, or lose a limb as you have, but everyone has something they have to deal with. If we don’t face it, it will forever color our future, so I try to face it every day. When I do, I grow stronger.”
“I guess you were right.”
“I was?” She blinked.
“You keep saying people feel better after talking to someone about their issues.” He waved at the screen. “These folks do seem to find relief in sharing. Some of the things I’ve read on Rod’s site—” Kyle shook his head. “I feel ashamed that I’ve bellyached so much about my lot.”
“The point isn’t who’s suffered more.” She touched his arm and looked straight into his eyes. “What’s so great about Rod’s site is that it allows each of you to see that you’re not alone, that others suffered and that there are people who care that you were willing to sacrifice for your country. That’s how God is. He never leaves us alone.”
To her surprise, Kyle didn’t argue. He stared into her eyes for several moments as if he was thinking about what she’d said.
For Sara, that connection went right to that secret place inside where she hid her feelings. Afraid that Kyle would see just how much she’d begun to care what he thought of her, she focused on the computer.
“So this is what I’ve found about my dad. It must be someone else with the same name.” She frowned when he made no response. As he studied the page, his brows drew together. She moved the cursor to change pages.
“Wait.” He put his hand on hers and guided the mouse to a line before clicking. A list of names appeared. “Is this birth date right?”
“Yes, but I can’t get it to reveal anything else. What am I doing wrong?”
“Wait a minute.” He put his hand over hers on the mouse and pressed. The screen changed. “Try again.”
She did and her father’s name appeared in the center of the screen. A frisson of hope flickered inside until she noticed something. “Kyle, this is a list of obituaries, isn’t it?”
“Let me see.” He leaned closer, studied the screen then looked at her, sadness filling his eyes. “Yes.”
“This is dated eleven years ago.” She couldn’t believe it. “He’s dead. My father is dead?” All this time, all the searching, for nothing? She peered at the page. “He died when I was eleven,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry.” Kyle stared at her. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t know.” Sara struggled to express what was going on inside. “I don’t really have any strong memories of him. A feeling of being carried, a vague image of his face, that’s all.” She caught her breath. “But I never thought, I never imagined—” Tears spilled from her eyes and tumbled down her cheeks. “I’m an orphan,” she whispered.
“Sara, please don’t cry.” Kyle’s arms went around her and he drew her against his shoulder. “You have friends here,” he whispered. His fingers threaded through her hair as he spoke, his soft, gentle tone matching the cadence of his words. “You have people who love you, Sara, who care about you. You’re not alone.”
“Yes, I am.” She drew away from him, dashed her knuckles across her eyes and let the full weight of this new knowledge impact her heart. “I have no mother, no father. No one.” The words whispered from her in a wrenching sob.
“Neither do I.”
Kyle’s stark response stunned Sara. She looked into his deep blue eyes. In that moment she understood the sense of total aloneness Kyle had been dealing with ever since he’d stepped off the train.
How could she have so cavalierly insisted he get on with his life? Compassion rose up in a wave and she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him.
“I’m sorry, Kyle. I’m really sorry.”
“You’re sorry for me?” He sat frozen for a moment before he lifted his hands, slid them around her waist and drew her close. “Thank you.” His breath brushed the tip of her ear.
She marveled at the strength of his arms around her, at the security she felt.
“It’s like you can’t wake up from a dream. You don’t know where to turn, what to do next. It feels so…” She paused. “Empty.”
Kyle said nothing, simply hugged her closer. His lips brushed over her cheek.
No man had ever kissed her like that before. An explosion of emotion rose inside, feelings of wonderment, sweet and tender. An emotion akin to reverence swept over her when he finally drew away.
“It must be doubly hard for you,” she realized aloud. “I didn’t really know my father. I can’t imagine how you deal with being here, seeing and touching all the things your dad loved. I didn’t consider that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sad for me, Sara.” Kyle leaned back, using the pad of one thumb to erase the tear marks from beneath her eyes. “Anyway, you’re not alone, like me. Aren’t you always telling me you have God to bless you?”
“Yes.” Sara frowned. “But you’re not alone, either, Kyle. You have the entire community just waiting to support you.”
There was a long pause while he studied her. Then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
As she followed him to the door and waved good-night, a voice in the back of her mind whispered, You have me, Kyle. I’m here and I care about you.
After he’d driven away and she was left alone, staring at the half-lit sky, Sara touched her cheek. This was love; she was certain of it. The tenderness that was flickering to life inside her had to be the real thing. For the first time in her life she felt she was important to someone, to Kyle.
Did he need her as much as she needed him? She wondered if being Kyle’s friend would salve the ache in her heart to be loved.
Chapter Ten
Kyle’s revelation started on Canada Day, when it seemed everyone he spoke to knew or had been inspired by Sara Kane.
“Sara made the Canada Day cake.”
“Sara’s put together a treasure hunt for the little kids.”
In the days that followed, songs of Sara’s generosity filled his ears every time he stepped out of the house. Everyone in town knew Sara.
“The talent show is Sara Kane’s doing,” an old friend told him.
“She encouraged town council to arrange it,” the mayor confided. “We couldn’t get anyone to participate until some of the boys from Lives agreed to take part to raise money for our new fire hall.”
Someone came by to donate more soil for “Sara’s plants.” A local business offered to repair Laurel’s ratty van for “Sara’s boys.” Even town council had chimed in, promising that come fall, transportation would be provided for “Sara’s kids,” thus freeing Laurel from four daily trips into town.
Kyle found rich irony in realizing Sara had even drawn him into the summer activities at Lives, though he’d intended to remain detached. The box k
ites he’d helped the boys build, the ones they were now flying, were her idea.
“I always wanted to fly a kite,” she’d said. And somehow Kyle just had to make that dream come true.
Now as Kyle watched Rod show Sara how to turn her brilliant yellow kite out over the cliffs, he found he couldn’t look away. Her eyes flashed, her cheeks bloomed and her hair streamed behind her in carefree abandon. She gave a whoop of joyful triumph as she leaned into the wind and let the kite soar. Kyle thought he could watch her forever and that bothered him.
He was getting too fond of Sara Kane. After today he’d have to work harder on keeping his distance.
“This was a great idea,” Sara said. Having handed the kite to Rod, she flopped onto their blanket on a sun-warmed rock. “It’s a perfect day. Look at the boys. They’re having so much fun. I had so much fun.”
“I’m glad.” Kyle lowered himself awkwardly beside her. “But I’m not sure I can do much more of this,” he said sotto voce, aware that the boys were mere feet away reeling in their kite string. “I’m not good on this kind of terrain.”
“I realize you’ve put yourself out to do this with us,” she said. “I wouldn’t have had a clue how to teach them to fly a kite. I appreciate your help.”
“My pleasure.” And it was.
Kyle enjoyed every encounter with her. But more than that, he now realized that as much as Sara and Laurel tried to make Lives as homey as possible, the boys were missing out on the maturing experiences his father had provided to enrich his own life, experiences that required a male perspective. He wasn’t the right man to do that for them. But until someone else came along, who else was there?
Of course, being around Sara was no hardship.
“What’s the worst part?” she asked.
“I can manage the beach, pretty much,” he qualified. “But these rocks are something else.”
“I’ve been praying for you, Kyle.” Sara smiled and placed her hand over his. “And I believe God will help you do whatever you set your mind to.”
“I hope so.” For once he wasn’t going to argue. When she removed her hand from his, some of the warmth drained out of the day. “I don’t want to make a spectacle of myself.”
“Would it matter so much?” Her stare was intense.
“To me, yes.”
“I read a verse this morning. ‘Happy is he whose hope is in the Lord his God, which made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that therein is: which keepeth truth forever.’ It’s from Psalms 146.” Her silver-gray eyes shone with confidence. “God didn’t abandon you, Kyle. I’m more certain of that than ever. He has plans for your life. You just have to keep your hope focused on God.”
While Kyle studied Sara’s face, a tiny part of his hardened heart melted. But he couldn’t afford to get soft, certainly not about Sara, who so desperately wanted a family.
He couldn’t give that to her, even if a relationship between them was possible.
And it wasn’t. He was leaving Churchill. Soon.
Kyle turned away from her and stared across the bay. Tiny ripples toyed with the glassy surface. As usual, Sara’s words challenged him.
In fact, it was the way she’d so quickly found solace in God after learning of her father’s death that compelled him to seek out the new minister in town.
“You have an error in your thinking, Kyle.” Rick Salinger hadn’t used fancy phrases or tried to pretend that he was anything other than a young pastor in a small, isolated community.
“I do?”
“God doesn’t leave us, not even when we try to push Him away. He stays and He waits for us until we’re ready to hear what He has to say. No matter how long it takes. Because He loves us.”
“Kyle?” Sara’s hand on his arm roused him from this morning’s early conversation.
“Yeah?” Kyle raised one eyebrow, surprised by the concern on her face. He thought about telling her of his visit to Rick this morning but changed his mind. For now he needed to think about it on his own for a while. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“Do you want to eat lunch now?”
Since the boys were trying to outdo each other in running their kites higher, he decided to use the opportunity to talk to her. “First I want to ask you something.”
“Okay.” She stopped lifting dishes out of the basket, folded her hands in her lap and waited.
“What will you do about your family now that you know your parents are…gone?” He hesitated to say it, not wanting to hurt her.
“I’m not sure.” Now she was the one who stared across the bay. “The thing is, Kyle, I think I might have a brother.”
“What?” He blinked at her statement. “You think?”
“I know it sounds odd. Listen, and I’ll try to explain. For many years I’ve had nightmares about a child crying and calling for me. At least I thought it was a nightmare.” Her hands clenched.
“I’m listening, Sara,” Kyle encouraged.
“I was almost thirteen when I was taken to the Masters’ home to live. I had been in other foster homes by then, but none were as bad as the Masters’.” She gulped. “It got worse the longer I was there. I guess somewhere along the way I blanked out my past.”
Her face lost all life, all sparkle. It seemed to Kyle that the light he’d seen shining from inside her earlier had been snuffed out. She inhaled, peering straight ahead. Her voice emerged flat, emotionless.
“After six months, I made up my mind I wasn’t going to stay.”
“But how…” He felt confused.
“I decided to run away.”
Kyle stayed silent, hoping she’d finally tell him about her past.
“It was bad.” Sara clamped her lips together, clearly summoning all the courage she could find. “Anyway, I decided to leave. I waited until everyone was asleep, then I climbed out the kitchen window and ran. I made it two blocks.”
Totally unnerved by the gray tone of her skin, Kyle wanted her to stop. But he knew Sara needed to get this story out.
Sara believed talking about things healed you. Kyle wanted her healed, so he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She was shivering.
“Tell me the rest,” he said softly as he draped his jacket over her shoulders.
“She followed me.”
“Who followed you?” Shaken by the dead sound of her voice, Kyle grasped her icy fingers and held on.
“Maria.” Sara hiccupped a sob and buried her face against his neck. “She was the sweetest four-year-old you’ve ever seen. She said I was her big sister.” Her voice choked. Tears flowed down her pallid cheeks. “She died because she followed me. I didn’t know it but I should have. She was always following me. I killed her.”
“No, you didn’t.” Kyle saw the boys heading for them. They were frowning, clearly worried about Sara. He shook his head, grateful when they backed off. “You loved Maria as if she was your own baby sister.” He knew it was true. Sara’s big heart couldn’t help but enfold a needy child.
“Yes, but—” She stopped.
“Tell me.”
“She was running across the road to catch up, I think.” She stopped again.
“All of it, Sara.”
She inhaled. “I heard a thud, the sound of glass breaking and I heard her call my name. I couldn’t figure out— I went back.” Sara’s hand on his tightened like a vise. “When I got there, Maria was lying in the street, her beautiful hair spread around her. She said she hurt and asked me to hold her. I didn’t know if I should move her, but I couldn’t just leave her like that.”
“Of course you couldn’t,” Kyle agreed.
“I heard someone calling the police, but Maria kept begging me to hold her. So I cradled her head on my lap.” Sara gulped. “She smiled and said thank-you before she drifted off. The ambulance was just arriving when she opened her eyes. She said didn’t she make a good snow angel. And then she died.”
“Oh, Sara.” Kyle couldn’t imagine any thirteen-year-old having to deal with such a tra
gedy. Clearly the guilt still clung. “I’d give anything to erase that memory from your mind.” Kyle simply sat there, holding her as she wept.
“Maria died because of me and all anyone was worried about was these silly cuts.” Sara’s fingers rubbed the scars on her wrists as if she could erase them. “The worst thing was Maria died for nothing. I was too afraid to tell the police why I’d left so they made me go back to the Masters’. After that they locked me in the basement every night so I couldn’t run away. They didn’t need to do that. Believe me, I wasn’t going anywhere.”
Rage burned inside Kyle like an inferno. But he kept it in check because Sara needed him.
“I didn’t even get to go to Maria’s funeral,” she whispered.
“She knew you loved her.” He held her wrists so she couldn’t rub the scars anymore. “You did your best, Sara.”
“Did I?” She stared at him, her face filled with ragged emotion. “I never tried to leave again. I couldn’t stand the thought of another child being hurt because I wasn’t there to protect them.”
“I read about you on the internet.” Compassion for her and the need to be honest in the face of what she’d just revealed forced his confession. “I read how you kept the other kids safe, how you fed them, made sure they did their schoolwork, washed their clothes. You were the best mother they could ever have had.”
God had allowed this—atrocity? Kyle’s brain simply could not accept that, but this was not the time to say that to her.
“I tried to care for all of them.” She dragged her hair off her face as she drew away. “I loved them as much as I could.”
“I know.” Kyle knew beyond doubt that big-hearted Sara would have showered each child with all the pent-up affection she possessed. She would have protected them, gone to bat for them, had probably even taken their punishment.
“They left, you know. One by one the other kids all left the Masters’.” She blinked her spiky lashes and stared into his eyes. “But no one ever came for me.”
“Oh, Sara.” Kyle had never felt more helpless.
“That’s why I needed to find my parents, to ask why they never came back. Now I’ll never know.” She found a tissue, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Maybe someday God will help me find out.”