by Lois Richer
“Sorry to put you in the middle of that,” Ty apologized, letting the door swing closed behind him.
“Don’t worry about me.” Cassidy had a thousand questions, all of them to do with the boy who’d been happily playing one minute and metamorphosed into a grouch the next.
“Lately I can’t seem to say or do anything right with Jack. I’m very concerned about him. He’s getting more and more sullen and I don’t know why.”
“Have you asked him?” She winced at the glower he shot her way. “I know, you’re the psychologist and you know all the procedures, but I imagine it’s different when it’s someone close to you. So?”
He said nothing as they walked the hallway, but at the stairwell Ty paused.
“Jack doesn’t talk to me.”
“Why—”
“Other than the few cursory words he needs to get through the day, he very seldom says anything—unless it’s to tell me how badly I’m doing something.”
“I’m sorry.” Her heart pinched at the lines appearing on his face. “I know you’re trying, Ty. And I don’t think it’s you, particularly. He’s almost a teenager.”
He wagged his head slowly from side to side.
“It’s me. Jack resents that I’m here and his mother isn’t. Natural, certainly. But I’m responsible for him and I’m trying my best.”
“It can’t be easy, I know that. Do you mind if I try something Friday night?” She might live to regret her spur-of-the-moment decision but Cassidy couldn’t stand by and see this family fracture.
“Such as?”
“Well, it’s taken so long to get the karaoke night planned—not your fault,” she added before he could protest. “I wonder if Jack, and some of the other kids, too, if they show up, could help me assemble the pizzas. I’ll have the ingredients ready. There are lots of plastic gloves. They could have fun putting together different combinations.”
“They might ruin everything.” His brows drew together like thunderclouds massing. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for children to be in the kitchen.”
“In the kitchen’s a lot better than on the street,” she shot back then wished she hadn’t. “They’re not going to get hurt sprinkling cheese on dough, Ty. I’ll do the oven part.”
“I thought you had helpers to prepare the food ahead of time.”
“I do. And we will.” Getting him to agree to her ideas was like pushing cement uphill. “The Haven is for everyone, right?”
He nodded slowly as if he wasn’t quite sure he believed it.
“We have the seniors’ lunches, we have the evening meal. We have the day care. What we don’t have is something for the older kids to do. I doubt many of them will actually sing, but we could get them involved through the food. Maybe in time it would become a Friday-night thing for them to host—like a coffee house. You did say Jack was interested in the musical stuff at Davis’s church,” she reminded him.
“He just bought a bass guitar—without my knowledge.” Ty’s chagrin needed no translation. “I guess there could be worse things, but—”
“Maybe he’ll start a trend and the kids will come here to rap.”
He lifted one imperious eyebrow at her vernacular but Cassidy knew he was considering it because he tapped his fingers as he considered her position, finally nodding.
“Ask them. But don’t be hurt when they turn you down flat.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
She was quoting Scripture now? Cassidy scooted down the stairs toward the kitchen, but paused halfway.
“You promise you’ll talk to Irina tomorrow morning?”
“I said I would. Remember, you owe me a favor.”
“No problem. Just let me know.”
“I will, Cassidy. And you will pay up.”
Funny how she trusted that Ty would exact revenge and it didn’t bother her a bit. In fact, she was actually looking forward to it.
“Cassidy said you must talk to me.” Irina stood in the doorway Tuesday morning, fingers knotted, eyes wide with fear. “I do—did something bad?”
“According to Cassidy you’ve been doing very well. Please, sit down.”
He wished he’d had more time to prepare, though if the truth were known, Ty doubted he’d ever be ready to do this again. He checked his watch and realized it was very close to noon. Cassidy probably thought he’d forgotten all about his promise. As if.
“You are not well?” Irina leaned forward over the desk, her face perplexed.
“I’m fine. Just a little nervous,” he admitted ruefully.
“You are nervous of me?” She blinked her surprise, the rigidity leaving her body. “I did not know I was scary.”
“It’s not you, it’s me. I’m not very good at this job yet.”
“You will get better. People like you.”
He hoped she was right.
“I have some forms I need you to sign.” He pulled out a file, opened it and indicated where. “It’s to do with the government regulations.”
Ty waited while she carefully read each line then etched her signature at the bottom. Her sleeve moved up and he saw the circle of bruises around her wrist.
When she was finished, Irina set down the pen, caught him staring.
It was now or never.
“Are you all right, Irina? Is it safe for you to go home today?” He kept his voice soft, his tone mildly questioning. “Are your children safe?”
For the first time since he’d met her, she did not look away when the subject of home was broached. This time she simply sighed, leaned back against the chair and shook her head.
“No. They are not safe. No one can be safe there.”
“They can’t unless you make it happen. You’re the only one who can change things.” So far, so good. He’d remembered all the right words.
“I do not know how.”
“Maybe I can help. Tell me what it’s like, Irina. I won’t judge,” he promised. “I won’t pry. I’ll only try to help.”
“My husband is not a bad man.”
“But he does bad things?”
She nodded slowly.
“When he gets angry?”
A few more gentle probes and she poured out the ugly situation, wept at the mess their lives had become. Ty offered a word of encouragement now and then, but he didn’t press and he didn’t hurry her. What she had to say had been bottled up for a long time. It would not evaporate easily or quickly.
But as he listened, an odd thing began to happen to his insides. Like a bud beginning to open, he felt the first stirrings of life nudge at the fear. His gut unclenched enough to let him take a breath and comprehend what Irina wasn’t saying.
“I do not know what will happen next,” she whispered.
“You know what you want to happen though, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“Can you tell me?”
She hiccuped a sob, dashed a tear from her cheek and nodded.
“I want to go to sleep at night and wake up in the morning feeling good. I want my children to come home and play without fearing. I do not want to worry anymore.”
Neither do I, Lord. The cry came from his heart.
“I don’t want you to worry anymore, either, Irina. So anytime you need to get away, to find a safe place, you come here. Okay?”
Irina straightened, lifted her proud head and studied him for several moments.
“Yes.”
“Good. Now I want to tell you some things I know.” Ty explained what experts had learned about abusers, about triggers and the escalation of violence. “I don’t want you to be afraid, Irina. I want you to be smart. I want you to keep yourself and your kids safe.”
“Yes.” She checked her watch, rose. “I must leave now.” But she didn’t go. She hovered in the doorway as if other things prayed on her mind.
“Is there something else?”
“May I talk to you again?”
Ty blinked. She wanted to come back?
“
Anytime,” he said sincerely, a flush of success suffusing his soul.
“Cassidy says your sister wanted the Haven. I am glad of this. It is a wonderful place. I think God will bless it.”
“I think so, too.” He watched her leave then rose to peer out the window at the swirling snow that covered the city.
Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t totally washed up.
“Isn’t it fantastic?”
Cassidy had to lean close or be drowned out by the woman wailing a country-western tune with the karaoke machine. Ty inhaled her fragrance, a light rose scent.
She looked nothing like she usually did. Gone were the figure-hiding chef’s whites. Tonight Cassidy wore slim-fitting, worn jeans and a silvery-gray sweater that emphasized the quicksilver tones of her eyes. Two thin silver earrings matched the necklace the circled her throat, sparkling against the raven black of her hair. Beautiful.
“I never imagined so many kids would turn out. And they don’t seem to mind the adults that are here.”
He nodded, when he spotted Jack in the corner, tuning his guitar with another boy.
“Who’s the guy with Jack, do you know?”
“I think his name is Boe, something like that. It’s hard to hear.” She grinned as if she was having the best time.
Ty’s stomach somersaulted at her radiance. Cassidy was ready to take on as many challenges as life threw her way. He wondered if she thought him old.
“I noticed Irina stopped by your office.” She tilted her head to one side.
“I can’t tell you anything, Cassidy.”
“Well, I know that! I only hoped you were able to help her.”
“We’ll see.” He wouldn’t tell her how desperately he hoped that session was the first of many he’d conduct. “How come I don’t smell pizza?”
“You had dinner—” she checked her watch “—two hours ago.”
“That long?” He laughed at her glower. “The thrill of cooking for this place beginning to wear off?”
She pulled him to a quiet corner, motioned to a chair.
“I expected it to get boring.” Her wide-eyed beauty entranced him. “When I came here I was dreading my six months.”
“You never let on. Or told me how it happens you’re here.” Ty wanted to know more about her, details that explained the quirky personality he’d only glimpsed.
“You’re very persistent.”
“Makes me a good psychologist.” He ignored her sigh. “Go ahead.”
“Six years ago I was about to pursue training at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris.”
“Aren’t there such schools here?”
“Oh, yes.” Her fingers busied themselves smoothing the plastic tablecloths she and Irina had cut from red gingham. “But I wanted Paris.”
“Because?”
Cassidy studied him as if deciding whether or not to trust him.
“A fantasy of mine. The first step, anyway.”
Ty puzzled over the way she said it, reverently, as if she hadn’t quite achieved her dream, even after six years in Europe. There were layers to this woman—deep, uncharted territory that he now realized she wouldn’t share easily. And he wanted to know.
“So you were ready to leave and what? You lost your ticket?” He’d hit too close to the truth.
“You could say that.” Sadness drenched her face, her eyes stormed with emotion.
“I’m sorry, Cassidy.” He laid a hand on hers, squeezed. “Can you tell me?”
“No.” In a turnabout, she tossed her somber attitude and flashed her glittering smile. “Anyway, I was penniless, about to be homeless and scared stiff. Elizabeth showed up, offered me a chance to realize my dream on one condition—that I’d repay her generosity sometime in the future with six months of my time. So here I am.”
Some of the kids, Jack among them, hurried over now that there was a break between songs. They began hassling Cassidy. Their banter rippled while Ty studied her. Her records put her at twenty-nine. Six years ago—she’d gone to Europe when she was twenty-three. A tender age for a world traveler.
Yet in Cassidy’s case, it fit. She wore maturity like it was an outlook she’d had for a long time. He remembered she’d talked about sisters, raising sisters. Had it happened then?
He wanted to learn more.
“Ty?” Two community workers, friends of Gail’s, had organized the evening. He’d left them in charge, but now they wanted him to talk to the crowd.
Ty pushed away his questions about Cassidy and concentrated on explaining what the Haven was about and invited those who wanted to participate or help to sign the sheets by the door.
“If you want to hang around, we’ll be enjoying fresh pizzas as soon as they’re ready,” he offered before turning the microphone over.
With music filling the room, the workers started board games, initiated shuffleboard and generally saw to it that everyone was involved. In the kitchen, the kids gathered around the center island as Cassidy showed them how to roll out pizza dough.
Ty leaned against a wall, admiring her easy rapport as she coaxed and cajoled each kid. Jack flourished under her tutelage and was soon chopping vegetables like a pro. But the size of the knife he was wielding worried Ty, so he pushed away from the wall, ready to intercede.
“Leave them be.”
“It’s dangerous, Mac.”
“They’re not babies. Most of them probably carry switchblades longer than that. Besides, I doubt Jack would appreciate your interference in front of his friends.”
Ty frowned at him. “But—”
“Look.” Mac nudged his shoulder.
Ty twisted, watched Jack lift a knife from a smaller boy’s hands. The boy’s face darkened with anger but before he could say anything, Jack pointed out that they had chopped up enough toppings. He handed the boy a block of cheese and a grater, dared him to shred the whole thing.
“Jack’s finding his way. Don’t interfere, Ty.”
Ty studied the boy until he felt someone watching him.
Cassidy.
She arched one eyebrow, as if to ask if he approved, and Ty nodded. She continued explaining how much of her homemade sauce to place on the dough, but she kept returning to Jack, teasing, brushing flour off his nose, hugging his shoulder. Jack glowed.
“She’s good with him.”
Ty nodded. Maybe a little too good. Envy pricked his ego as he watched their easy camaraderie. Cassidy made communicating with Jack look so simple, and yet Ty had never found anything more difficult.
Vigilance from twenty-odd pairs of eyes made sure the pizza was cooked to perfection. Under the chef’s direction, the kids served everyone a steaming slice before they sampled their own. Laughter echoed through the room.
“Makes it worth all the work, don’t you think?” Cassidy stood by Ty, surveying the energized room.
“I guess.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
His old nemesis, fear, chewed at its leash, broke free.
“I’m not.”
Her face sobered as Cassidy studied him. “What’s wrong now?”
“The Haven is supposed to be a place for people who can’t help themselves.”
“And?” Her lips crimped tight.
“I’m not convinced these kids need help. They have nothing to do but make trouble and they’re using us for a good time.” He watched Jack pick up his guitar, follow the instructions of an older boy. “What happens next week when we can’t amuse them? Or feed them?”
The silver in her eyes melted to liquid mercury. She grabbed his arm, drew him out of the room and into the hall.
“Is this really about feeding some kids, having a little fun, Ty? Or are you upset about something else?” Cassidy sounded irritated, but underneath her frustration, a deeper emotion was clear. “Maybe you’ve never spun your wheels in a neighborhood where there doesn’t seem to be any way out. Maybe you can’t understand why a little space and time with others is so important to a kid who feels totally alone and o
ut of control in his world.”
“I’m sure—”
“Let me finish.” She pinned him with her gaze and this time the anger snapped and crackled throughout her entire body. “If it’s the money you’re worried about, Ty, I’ll pay for the pizza ingredients. If it’s the evening of free time you’ve lost, I’ll stand in for you one night.”
“It’s not the time or the food costs.” He felt like a curmudgeon, but the fear that gripped him would not be silenced.
“Then I don’t understand your complaint. But I’ll tell you one thing. Before you begrudge those kids a few moments of fun, check their expressions. Look. They found a moment of happiness here, Ty. For a little crack in time, they can be kids—can joke, laugh and forget about doing or saying the wrong thing. They don’t have to be afraid.”
She leaned in and the curve of her silky black hair brushed his cheek.
“Look at Irina’s kids.”
Ty looked. While Red scoffed at the unmusical sound Jack’s guitar was making, Irina’s other two children sat, smiling and laughing.
“You want to make a difference in this community? You have to start with its future—its children.”
When she finally faced him, Ty recognized that the emotion she’d hid was pain. Longing. He wanted to ask about it, but she didn’t give him a chance.
“Everybody wants the best for their children, Ty. If they can find a place they’ll trust with their kids, this community will throw open its door to you. But better than that, they’ll get behind you, back you so strongly you won’t need the city or anyone else to police it. They’ll do it themselves, because the Haven will feel like it’s theirs.”
He’d never imagined Cassidy felt so deeply about this place.
“You want the Haven to fulfill Gail’s dream.” Her voice grew so soft he had to lean in to hear it. “And it will. But sometimes you have to stand back and let it grow without trying to prune. Have some faith, Ty. They’re not all bad kids.”
A buzzer sounded. Cassidy hurried away to rescue another pizza.
Ty remained in place, watching. Thinking.
He wished he could be like her, see only the best in people. But he knew better. He’d watched Donnie retreat further and further from their family, saw the friends who’d dragged him into a counterculture where violence and drugs sapped away his little brother until no one could save him.