by Lois Richer
“I’m sorry if it’s painful—”
Ty shook his head.
“Gail had a very successful career in real estate. She left it to work in this community as an outreach worker because she felt that God had blessed her so much she had to share, to make a difference in the world. And for several years she did.”
“I see.”
Ty breathed deeply, forced his shoulders to relax and his fingers to unclench.
“The Haven was Gail’s last dream. I made myself a promise that I’d see my sister’s final project through to completion.”
Silence stretched between them for several moments. Ty felt Cassidy’s gray gaze studying him but he kept his head down, his focus on the floor, because he didn’t want her to see how much that promise was costing him.
Nobody knew of his long nights lying awake, trying to recall if he’d dotted all the i’s, crossed all the t’s, missed any detail that would jeopardize the project. That’s why he didn’t go to bed till long after midnight. That’s why he’d been up at four this morning.
Well, one reason why.
He spent precious hours deliberating over every decision, desperate to avoid the mistake that would spoil Gail’s dream. But even when he finally made a choice, Ty could never be sure it was the right one. That and the constant nightmares were just a small part of the legacy post-traumatic stress disorder had bequeathed him—chronic worry and uncertainty. PTSD was the primary reason he’d left the military, left counseling to someone else, someone who wasn’t dragging about his baggage.
Eventually he hoped to ease back into practice in his own way, on his own terms. Elizabeth had been great with her advice and support, her foundation equally generous, but even she didn’t know exactly how much he had at stake. Whether he could recover, whether he could listen and help someone else—what he discovered here would decide whether he ever practiced again.
For now Ty would see the Haven through to completion—errors and all.
What happened after that—Ty didn’t want to think about it right now.
“May I say something?”
He’d almost forgotten she was there. Cassidy waited until he lifted his head and looked at her.
“I am not trying to usurp your authority, Ty. I don’t want to get in your way, change your decisions or mess with your plans. That is not my intent.” She stood straight and tall, unflinching in her vivid sweater and frayed but fitted jeans. “I am here to help for six months. I owe that to Elizabeth because six years ago she gave me back my life. But at the end of my six months I’ll go my own way, get on with my own plans.”
“Okay.” Gave her back her life? There was more to that story, but Cassidy didn’t look inclined to explain at the moment.
Ty’s curiosity grew. That was the second time she had emphasized that she was here for six months. Had she repeated it for his benefit, or for her own?
“Until then, please know that I’ll do my very best to help you make the Haven succeed.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your commitment.”
“I am committed. From now on I promise not to spring any further surprises on you. I’m sure you’re juggling a thousand things already. You don’t need me adding to your stress.” She offered a tentative smile. “All right?”
Ty shook his head.
“Not all right at all. Please don’t apologize for helping. This whole misunderstanding was my fault. For now, let’s agree that we will cooperate to make things go smoothly. The Haven is our common goal. Okay?”
“Very okay.” She glanced around the room. Suddenly her eyes opened wide. She gasped. “Oh, how silly. I forgot.”
“Forgot who?”
“Not who, what.”
Ty followed her pointing finger and saw two brown paper cups sitting on the table by the door she’d entered. Next to them she’d left a white bag with his favorite bakery’s red logo printed across it.
“Those.” She handed him a cup. “I hope it’s not cold yet.”
“You’ve been back in Chicago what—five days? And you’ve already found Sugar’s?” Ty sniffed the aromatic wisps emanating from the tiny opening in the lid. “Costa Rican. Double dark, twice ground with real cream.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I take it you’re familiar with that brew.”
“You could say that.” He closed his eyes, inhaled and sighed. “This is going to be a very good day.”
“I should have given you the coffee first.”
The way she said it made him study her. A tiny smile kicked up the corner of her pretty mouth; her eyes sparkled as if enjoying a private joke.
“Because?”
“We could have avoided a lot of misunderstanding if I’d known one cup would mellow you out for the whole day.”
“Okay, probably not the whole day,” Ty admitted. “But it’s a very good start. Thank you.” He sipped the drink and allowed himself a moment to savor it. A crackling bag drew him back to the reality of the Haven’s less than immaculate kitchen.
“I suppose you’re not into apple Danish?” She held out one of his favorite delicacies. When he didn’t immediately take it, she shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m starved. I bought four thinking I’d have one for breakfast, one for lunch and share the other two. Guess I’ll keep some for tomorrow.”
“I don’t see any need for you to suffer like that.” Ty plucked the golden pastry from her fingertips. “I’m happy to help out.” He bit into it quickly, so she couldn’t snatch it back, then faked wide-eyed innocence. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I eating yours?”
Ty’s mouth watered. He’d missed breakfast, and dinner the night before was a faint memory of peanut butter and dill pickles. Jack’s favorite. They made a decent sandwich if you were starving, but only just.
“You don’t look very sorry.”
“I truly am.” He held the uneaten portion toward her assuming his saddest look.
“Nice gesture.” She took a tiny bite, laughed at him. “You don’t do pathetic well, you do know that?”
Ty gave it a second effort but she merely shook her head.
“Forget it. I prefer apricots, anyway.”
“You have apricot Danish, too? That’s another favorite of mine.” He enjoyed watching laughter change her face. “Yours has more icing.”
“Tough.” She took another bite, displaying not the least hint of regret.
“As your boss, I feel compelled to say—”
“Thank you, Cassidy. You’ve saved my life. Again.” She tilted her head sideways in a sassy fashion. “That was what you were going to say, wasn’t it?”
“Sort of.”
“There’s a guy outside—hey, nobody said anything about food. I love Danish.” Mac glanced back and forth between the two of them like a puppy who doesn’t know which benefactor to attack first.
“That must be Davis.” Cassidy dabbed her lips with a napkin and held out the bag. “We meet again, Mac. Help yourself. There’s plenty.” She grabbed her coat.
“Maybe you should wait to sample the goodies till later, Mac.” Ty eyed the pastry bag, licked his lips. “At least until we see what Cassidy’s friends have brought us.”
“Until you get your gums around it, you mean. No way.” Mac chose his Danish and carried it with him as he followed them upstairs, smacking his lips to taunt Ty.
Ty pulled on his jacket thinking how Mac accepted everyone at face value. But Ty had a thousand questions about their chef.
Was she married? Why had she left Europe? Did she have any family?
“Tyson St. John, meet my friend Chef Davis Longfellow. Davis, Mac.”
This guy was a chef? He looked like a wrestler and it had nothing to do with the thick down coat he wore. Ty exchanged greetings before the gigantic stainless-steel units lying on the flatbed attached to a half-ton grabbed his attention. They looked like they’d require a crane to lift them off.
“Thank you so much for the donation, Davis,” he said, meaning it. “It’s very generous of you. The
Haven will put them to good use.”
“Then that’s thanks enough.” Davis hopped on the back of the flatbed and began undoing the ropes that secured the units. “God sure moved in a timely fashion on this.”
“Why do you say that?” Ty applied himself to untying a second set of ropes at the back of the truck, jumped when Davis’s laugh burst out like a clap of thunder.
“‘Why?’ he asks. Let’s see, I’ve been waiting for my new refrigeration units for close to six months. Last week the vendor called to say they had been lost in shipping, that they couldn’t supply for another eight weeks at best.”
“Bad news.”
“It was, until last night. After the dinner rush, I got a call. The truck had mysteriously arrived in town. It was on a rush order, and if we couldn’t get my stuff unloaded right away I’d have to wait till they were able to come back around—some time next week, while I’m on vacation.” He tossed the rope free, gave Ty a questioning look.
“Okay,” Ty agreed. “That does sound like God put in some overtime.”
“It gets better. Two minutes after I got off the phone, Cassidy wandered in to say hello and mentioned she was looking for used equipment. If that isn’t God working, I don’t know what is.”
“Well, it’s certainly our good fortune.” Cassidy picked up the ropes and set them in a neat pile beside the walk.
“Oh, Cass, you doubter!” Davis shook his head in disgust and hopped down. “Good fortune, nothing. It’s perfect planning by the Father and you know it.”
“It’s chance.”
“Chance?” He hooted with derision, winked at Ty. “How’s this for chance? If that stuff had come while I was away I would’ve had to come back and my family would not have liked that. At all.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
Ty didn’t understand why she’d grown so annoyed.
“If it had come tomorrow morning, I would’ve missed the plane we are supposed to catch—the one with nonrefundable tickets to sun and surf. If I’d had to wait another eight weeks, the repairs they’re doing on the building would’ve had to be put off.” Davis waggled a finger at her. “As I said, God at work.”
“I think you’re right.” Ty smiled at him.
“You guys always stick together.” Belligerence colored Cassidy’s voice.
“I have some repairs planned for around here, too. Moving this stuff in after they’re completed wouldn’t have been easy,” Ty added. He wished Jack had shoveled off all the walks when he’d been asked. Now patches of ice had formed making the sidewalks treacherous.
“Your boss agrees with me, Cass. Divine Providence at work for both the giver and the receiver. How can you still doubt?”
Cassidy’s pretty face hardened into rigid lines. “Believe what you want,” she snapped, chin lifting.
Puzzled by her reaction, Ty walked around the flatbed, studying it from many different angles.
“How exactly do we get these beasts inside?” he finally asked.
“Many hands make light work.”
“Davis is big on these homilies.” Cassidy’s eyes danced with glee. “Actually, Davis is just plain big.”
“Ha. Cassidy is too funny today.” Her friend didn’t seem to take offense. “Move out of the way, you puny woman. We men have to work.” He flexed his bicep then leaned his head toward Ty. “See the way her eyebrow twitches. That means she’s steamed and she’s thinking up ways to pay us back.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Judging by the glares the two were exchanging, Ty guessed they’d known each other for quite a while. “Forewarned is forearmed.”
“Don’t you start.” Cassidy yanked hard on a bit of leftover rope. “I thought you said you’re getting ready for a vacation, Davis. It’s cold out here. Don’t you have something to do other than stand around and jabber?”
“Tsk tsk. I hoped Europe would have cured you of that crankiness.” Davis pulled out a cell phone and began dialing. “If I can just figure out where my ‘many hands’ are, I will prove how much truth there is in my little homily.”
He hadn’t completed punching in the last number before a big black truck pulled up to the curb and four muscled men jumped out.
“About time you got here.” Davis introduced them to Ty.
Once they’d greeted him, the men took turns wrapping Cassidy in a bear hug, swinging her around, then planting a loud kiss on her cheek. By the time they were finished her face glowed and she giggled like a young girl. Ty couldn’t stop staring at her.
“Good to see you again, Cass.”
“Good to see you, too, I think.” When they lunged toward her again, Cassidy stepped backward and pointed to the flatbed. “Could we get some work done here today? It’s supposed to snow again, you know.”
The four men glanced at Davis. “Hasn’t changed much, has she?”
“Nope. Just as bossy as she ever was.”
Cassidy snorted her disgust while the four pulled a cart from the truck’s bed and handed it up to Davis, who began fastening it to the first piece of machinery. Obviously they knew what they were doing, so Ty followed their directions and did exactly as he was told. A little better than half an hour later, both units were installed and running nicely. The old ones had been removed and were now tied onto the flatbed.
He overheard Cassidy promising to repay the five men with her specialty, which sounded chocolaty and very fattening.
“You going to provide shelter here, too, like with beds and everything?” Crank, the man with the biggest biceps, insisted Ty give them a tour of the old school building.
“That’s the idea. It’s a bit much for us to do all at once so I guess we’ll start with a soup kitchen and work up from there. Want to see more?”
“Yes.”
Ty led them through the building. Eventually they came to the gym. “This is the best part.”
“No kidding.” Hart, the tallest of the four men, grabbed a basketball from a box in the corner, raced across the floor and sank a hoop shot.
“You haven’t lost your touch.” Cassidy lounged in the doorway, watching them. “This old school has a big playground. Come spring, you guys could spend a day putting up a fort, some swings, maybe a few slides. Couldn’t you?”
“Could,” Hart agreed.
Ty couldn’t help staring. He hadn’t imagined Cassidy had given any thought to the Haven, let alone considered future possibilities.
Furtive whispers drew him back to awareness. Cassidy nodded at Crank, who seemed tongue-tied.
“He’s willing to donate some bedsprings from a motel he just bought.”
“Great.” Feeling as if he’d been grasped by one of those muscled arms and shaken, Ty gulped. But before he could accept, she continued.
“Hart’s brother’s a football pro. He could get some gym equipment for you.”
“Not fancy, but free,” Hart inserted.
“It’s really kind of you, all of you.”
Apparently his message about being in charge hadn’t sunk in at all. But Ty didn’t mind when Cassidy took over, coaxing Davis to approach his church for donations toward a day care, mocking his upturned nose.
“What’s the matter, Davis?” Cassidy teased. “Not into diapers?”
“Funny.” He ignored her to face Ty. “Her humor hasn’t changed since we were in high school together. It’s still nonexistent.”
“High school?” Ty recalled the way she’d interacted with the other men. “All of you?”
“Afraid so.” Davis laughed at Cassidy’s groan. He leaned toward Ty and spoke sotto voce. “Cassidy was number one on everybody’s dating list.”
“Liar. I never made it onto anyone’s dating list.” She thumped Davis on the shoulder. “You never even knew I was alive until you discovered I could cook.” She glanced at Ty. “They had some kind of contest to see who would persuade me to go out with them first.”
“I won.” Davis thrust out his massive chest.
“You won because you conne
d me.” Her scathing tones dared him to deny it. “Anyway, that wasn’t a date. You got me to cook a meal under the pretext of helping your poor sick mother.”
“He said you offered because you were infatuated with him.”
“You actually believed that?” Cassidy rolled her eyes.
Crank made a threatening gesture at Davis. “Your past is coming back to haunt you big-time now that Cass is back. You know what she’s like about lying.”
“Hates it. Yeah, I know that.” Davis sobered immediately. “I’m sorry, Cass.”
Ty found her reaction curious. His first impression of the chef had been of a strong, aggressive and capable woman. Somehow he never imagined her as an uncertain high school girl trying to figure out the intricacies of dating. Seeing her interaction with these men added a sense of vulnerability, made her more approachable.
“You’re going to be very sorry you lied about me, Davis.” Cassidy’s words held a thin edge of pain. A moment later her grin flashed. “I’m going to think up some really big payback.”
“Look, forget the past. I’m more interested in the present.”
“I’m sure you are.” Cassidy winked at Ty then turned to face her friend. “I could tell a lot of stories on you, Davis, and you know it. But because you came through today, I won’t.”
Relief washed over the big man’s face.
“And because you got me interested in cooking and pushed me to get my own place, I guess I owe you one, too.” He risked a look over one shoulder. Crank and his friends were huddled together, muttering about a football game on the weekend. Davis ignored them, turned to face Ty. “So it’s okay with you, if I suggest your place as a project for our church?”
“I’ll be very thankful for anything your church is willing to help us with.” Ty glanced at the others. “That goes for all of you. The Haven is only going to work if we get community support. Then people will see we are only trying to help. Hopefully that will allay any suspicions that are out there.”