by Irene Hannon
Even that, however, wasn’t her greatest fear. For Zach, these few weeks represented a promise kept, a fling at teaching, a change of pace from his hectic life in St. Louis. He hadn’t intended the situation to be permanent. As far as she knew, he still didn’t.
And so her greatest fear, the one that haunted her dreams, was that bidding farewell to Isabel wouldn’t be the only goodbye she would have to say in the very near future.
“Which present would you like to open first?” Rebecca asked, arranging the colorfully wrapped packages on her coffee table. “Or are you too full?” she teased. Much to the amazement of Rebecca and Zach, Isabel had polished off a plate of spaghetti, a pile of French fries, an ear of corn and two pieces of chocolate cake.
“I think she has a hollow leg,” Zach declared, reaching over to tickle her.
“I do not,” she told him, giggling as she squirmed out of his grasp. “I was just hungry. And I’m not too full to open presents,” she informed Rebecca, eyeing them with delight.
“Then how about if you start with Uncle Zach’s?” Rebecca suggested.
“Okay.” She reached for it eagerly, quickly tearing the paper off. Her eyes sparkled at the child-sized backpack, decorated with characters from a popular animated children’s movie, and she threw her arms around Zach’s neck. “Oh, thank you, Uncle Zach! Wait till all my friends at school see this next year!”
Rebecca handed her the next gift, two boxes tied together with ribbon. The first contained a ballpoint pen with Isabel’s name engraved on it. “For when you start writing,” Rebecca told her. The other held a pink sweater with a smiling teddy bear face on the pocket.
“This is the one we saw in the store the other day,” Isabel declared excitedly as she held it up. “I love it! Thank you so much!”
“You’re very welcome, honey,” Rebecca replied. “Here’s your papa’s present, sweetie.” She reached for the package, which had arrived just a few days before, and handed it to Isabel.
The little girl cradled it in her hands for a moment, then carefully tore off the paper to reveal a beautifully carved wooden box. “I bet my papa made this,” she speculated softly, running her fingers reverently over the intricate handiwork. “He’s a real good carver.” She lifted the lid slowly, and inside, on a red velvet lining, rested a folded sheet of paper and another, smaller package.
Isabel removed the package first and unwrapped it, fishing through the tissue to extract a delicate filigreed gold brooch. The front was hinged, and she flipped it open to reveal a photograph of Katrina and Josef. “This was my mama’s,” Isabel said, her voice subdued. “She always told me someday it would be mine.”
Rebecca blinked rapidly, trying desperately to keep her tears at bay. Don’t cry, she told herself fiercely. It will only make Isabel feel worse.
Isabel withdrew the single sheet of paper in the case and unfolded it, frowning at the words before looking up at Zach. “I’m not very good yet at reading, especially handwriting,” she told him. “Would you read it to me?”
Zach took it and smoothed back her hair. “Of course, honey.” His voice sounded strained, and Rebecca knew he was struggling with his emotions, just as she was.
“My dearest Isabel,” he began. “I am so sorry that I cannot be with you to celebrate your eighth birthday. But I will be thinking of you all day, and hoping you have a good time with Uncle Zach and Rebecca. Wasn’t it nice of them to have a party just for you?
“I made you this treasure box, which I hope you will keep always and fill with special things that are important to you. I have given you the first treasure to put in it, the brooch your mama loved so much. Remember how she always wore it close to her heart? I hope you will do the same, my child, to remind you that your mama and I will always be close to your heart, even when we are far away.
“I miss you, little one, more than words can say. You are my sunlight and my joy. Your mama always used to say that God gave us a touch of heaven when He sent you to us, and I believe that she was right. You are a precious gift, and I love you with all my heart. I am counting the days until you are home with me again.
“Happy birthday, Isabel. And may God be with you.”
Zach’s voice was grave by the time he finished, and he cleared his throat as he slowly refolded Josef’s heartfelt note. Rebecca wiped away the tear that suddenly spilled out of her eye, then reached over to hug the suddenly subdued little girl at her side.
“Your papa loves you very much, Isabel,” she said, her voice choked. “You’re a very lucky girl to have such a wonderful father.”
“I know,” Isabel replied in a small, quavering voice. She fingered the delicate brooch and stared at the photograph of the smiling young man and woman. “I miss him. And I miss my mama. She was very pretty, wasn’t she?”
“She was beautiful,” Rebecca agreed. “I think you have her lovely smile, as a matter of fact.”
Isabel looked up at Rebecca. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Maybe someday I’ll look like her,” Isabel said hopefully.
“I think that’s a very good possibility. Would you like me to pin the brooch on for you?”
Isabel nodded, and Rebecca reached over to secure it firmly on Isabel’s sweater.
“They’re right by my heart now, aren’t they?” she said wistfully.
“Yes, sweetie, they are.” She had to get away for a minute, Rebecca thought desperately, or she was going to lose it completely. “Zach, let me get you some more coffee,” she offered, reaching for his nearly full cup, fleeing to the kitchen before he could respond.
Even before she reached that sanctuary, the tears were trickling down her cheeks. She leaned against the refrigerator and closed her eyes, her heart tattered, her emotions raw. How on earth could they send this poor child back to the danger and turmoil in her country? And yet she belonged with Josef, who clearly loved her more than anything else on earth. She thought about all the lonely nights he’d spent since Isabel’s departure, painstakingly creating the treasure box for her in his silent and empty apartment, and her heart ached. Another tear traced its way down her cheek, and she struggled to stifle her sobs, the back of her hand against her lips. Josef needed Isabel—desperately. But could he protect her? Dear God, what are we to do? she cried silently. How can we ever let her go?
Rebecca suddenly felt two strong arms encircle her, and then Zach pulled her close, smoothing her hair tenderly as he held her. He pressed her cheek against his chest and stroked it soothingly.
“I put a video in,” he said softly, his lips against her forehead. “She’ll be occupied for a few minutes, anyway.”
“Oh, Zach!” Rebecca whispered brokenly. “She’s so little. And so helpless. Just thinking about sending her back…” Her voice choked.
“I know.” His own voice sounded none too steady.
“I’ll worry about her constantly.”
“So will I.” He pressed her even closer, and she hugged him tightly as they tried to draw strength from each other. “I was beginning to think I might enjoy having kids someday, but I’m not sure I can handle the emotional turmoil and worry that goes with that responsibility,” he said heavily. “Isabel isn’t even my daughter, and yet this whole thing is tearing me up inside.”
“I guess that’s part of what loving is all about,” Rebecca replied tearfully. “Just by caring we expose ourselves to hurt and risk. And yet…Isabel has added so much to my life. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that.”
As Zach stroked her back comfortingly, Rebecca realized that she felt the same way about him. Even if he left next month, as he very well might, he had given her a precious gift. With patience and gentleness, he had helped her to believe that she could overcome her debilitating fear of physical intimacy and ultimately realize her dream of having a husband who would also father her children.
The only problem was, she couldn’t imagine anyone in that role but Zach.
The sound of shattering dishes—for the s
econd time in an hour—brought a frown to Rebecca’s face, and she glanced up from the computer in her tiny office at the restaurant. She didn’t usually come in on Sunday, but she’d been trying to spend as much time as possible with Zach and Isabel, and so she’d gotten behind on paperwork. Two of her high school wait staff had also volunteered to come in and set up for a special party she was doing tomorrow. But it sounded like her profits were going right down the drain.
She was about to investigate when a tentative knock sounded on her half-closed door and Pete Cramer stuck his head in. “I’m sorry to bother you, Ms. Matthews, but I think there’s something wrong with Melanie,” he told her, his face a mask of concern. “She looks kind of…funny. I asked her if she was sick, but she said no.”
Rebecca studied the lanky youth with a frown. He’d only been on the staff for a week, but already she could see that he was a hard worker. He was also very sensitive to people. If he said something was wrong with Melanie, she believed him.
“Are you two about done?” she asked.
“Yeah. We just finished.”
“Great. Thanks a lot for coming in, Pete. And ask Melanie to come back for a minute, would you? Just lock the door behind you as you leave.”
“Okay.”
He disappeared, and a couple of minutes later she heard the front door open and close. Moments later a pale, drawn Melanie appeared in the office doorway, biting her lip nervously. The sixteen-year-old looked nothing like her usual cheerful, smiling self, Rebecca noted worriedly.
“I’m really sorry about the dishes, Ms. Matthews,” the girl apologized. “You can just take it out of my pay. I don’t mind.”
“Don’t worry about it, Melanie,” Rebecca reassured her. “I’m more concerned about you. You’ve been working for me for nine months, and I don’t think you’ve ever dropped a plate or glass, let alone a tray. Is everything all right?”
Melanie lowered her eyes and rubbed the palms of her hands nervously against her jeans. “Yeah. I…I guess so.”
Her tentative tone negated her words, and Rebecca stood up and impulsively put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “I have a feeling that’s not quite true,” she said gently. “Would you like to have a soda and talk for a few minutes? I’m a good listener.”
Melanie considered the offer for a moment, again nervously biting her lip. Finally she nodded her head jerkily. “Okay.”
“Go ahead into the restaurant. I’ll grab the sodas.”
By the time Rebecca joined her, Melanie’s eyes were suspiciously moist and her shoulders were hunched miserably. She was obviously deeply upset, but she remained silent, so Rebecca decided to do a little probing.
“Have you had some bad news, Melanie?” she asked quietly. She knew the plant where her father worked was downsizing. Perhaps he was being laid off, which would certainly disrupt the whole family.
The girl shook her head. “No.”
Rebecca glanced at Melanie’s hand as the girl toyed with the straw, noticing the bruise on her arm for the first time.
“What happened here?” Rebecca asked, laying her fingers gently against the purple area. Melanie flinched and her face seemed to grow even paler. Rebecca realized that the bruise was a clue to her present emotional distress. “When did you do this?” she prompted gently.
“L-last night. I went to the end-of-the-school-year dance.”
“Well, I’ve had a few bruised toes from dancing, but never a bruised arm,” Rebecca commented, trying unsuccessfully to induce the girl to relax a little.
“It didn’t happen at…at the dance. It happened later.”
A niggling suspicion suddenly put Rebecca on alert. She reached over and took the girl’s hand.
“Melanie, honey, who did you go with?”
“J-Jack Simpson.”
“Did he do this?”
Suddenly the girl broke down, no longer able to keep the tears in check. Between choked sobs, she told Rebecca what happened—the excitement of being asked out by one of the most popular boys at school, the fun she had at the dance, the drive to lookout point…and the increasingly aggressive, suddenly frightening, advances that she’d fought off as fear had given way to panic. Only the arrival of another car of laughing teenagers had halted the terrifying attack. But the incident had left Melanie shaken and deeply upset.
Rebecca hugged the shaking girl, trying to control her seething rage. “Did you tell your parents?” she asked, struggling to maintain an even tone.
“N-no,” the girl sobbed.
“Don’t you think you should?”
“I…I don’t know,” she replied helplessly.
“Would it help if I called? Asked them to come over here?”
“I…I think so.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
An hour later Rebecca stared at Melanie’s parents in disbelief after sending Melanie out of the room. “You mean you aren’t going to do anything about this?” she demanded, her eyes blazing.
John Lewis rubbed a hand wearily across his face. “Look, Ms. Matthews, Melanie is a good girl and we want to protect her. But Jack is the son of the plant manager, and my job is already in jeopardy. Betty here has medical expenses, and I have four kids to support. I can’t afford to take any risks. Besides, it worked out okay. Nothing happened.”
“Nothing?” Rebecca’s voice was outraged. “Mr. Lewis, Melanie was traumatized last night. An incident like that can leave emotional scars that never heal. And retribution in the workplace is illegal.”
“Yeah. So they say. But that doesn’t stop it from happening,” he replied wearily. “We’ll do our best to keep her out of situations where something like this could happen again. And we’ll keep her away from that boy. That’s all we can do.”
Rebecca knew it was useless to press the point, and she watched in helpless frustration as they left, their arms around their daughter. She knew they loved Melanie, knew they meant what they said about doing their best to protect her. But she also knew it was wrong to let that boy get away with what bordered on criminal behavior. What if that other car hadn’t driven up and prevented him from finishing what he started? Melanie was lucky. She’d escaped with her virtue intact. But Rebecca knew she could easily carry the emotional scars for the rest of her life.
Rebecca prowled around the restaurant restlessly, too angry to even think straight. She needed to do something to work off her anger, release some of the hyper energy coursing through her veins. Cooking always helped, she thought, heading for the kitchen. A glance at her watch told her she had three hours before Zach and Isabel were scheduled to pick her up for dinner. Hopefully by then she would calm down.
As he passed Rebecca’s restaurant, Zach eased his foot off the accelerator in surprise. She’d mentioned at church that she planned to stop by for a little while, but that was hours ago. Why was her car still here?
He pulled up to the curb and parked, then hesitated. He’d been on his way to her apartment, knowing he was an hour early, hoping she wouldn’t mind. A friend of Isabel’s from Sunday school had unexpectedly invited her for dinner, a movie and a slumber party, and Zach had agreed. He was happy Isabel had made some friends her own age. And, on a more selfish note, he was also grateful for the unexpected opportunity to see Rebecca alone.
Frankly, he was beginning to worry about the lack of progress in their relationship. While Rebecca seemed comfortable with small intimacies, his attempts to get closer to her emotionally made her tense. He could feel her withdraw, close down, put up a No Trespassing sign. And he’d promised not to push. He’d kept that promise, but it grew more difficult daily.
Rebecca had said once that she wasn’t a woman who liked to be touched. And he knew, somewhere in her background, there must be a good reason for that. She hadn’t chosen to share it with him, which was her right. But he’d hoped that his patience and consideration would eventually make her comfortable enough to trust him, to reveal the secrets of her heart that made her wary.
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nbsp; So far that hadn’t happened. And he was running out of time. Isabel was leaving in two weeks. His leave was over a week after that. He had some important decisions to make, and a lot of those decisions hinged on Rebecca. He couldn’t wait any longer to discuss their situation. He’d held off too long already, hoping things would progress in their relationship, but the status quo persisted. Now it was time to find out why.
Rebecca stirred the soup, banged the lid on the pot and then let the spoon clatter to the stainless steel counter. For some reason, making noise helped her vent the anger that still consumed her, even after two hours.
She slammed a pan on the stove and turned on the heat, then paused as an insistent knocking penetrated the other noises in the kitchen. She glanced toward the back door with annoyance, then wiped her hands on her apron and strode over to yank it open.
Zach’s smile faded to a frown as his sweeping glance took in her flushed face, clenched jaw and the lines of strain around her rigid mouth. “Are you all right?” he asked without preamble.
“Of course I’m all right,” she snapped, glancing irritably at her watch. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were going to pick me up at six. At home. And where’s Isabel?”
His frown deepened at Rebecca’s uncharacteristic bad humor, and a tingle of alarm raced along his spine. “What’s wrong, Rebecca?”
She pushed some loose strands of hair back from her face and glared at him. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?” she demanded tersely. “And where’s Isabel?”
“A friend from Sunday school invited her to spend the night and go to a movie.”
“I thought we were all having dinner together.”
“She wanted to go, Rebecca. I’m glad she has a friend. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Suddenly Rebecca wrinkled her nose. She turned in dismay and, with a muttered exclamation, dashed toward the smoking pan on the stove. Zach followed more slowly, propping a shoulder against the wall and folding his arms across his chest as he watched her. He’d never seen her this upset. Anger was seething out of every pore in her body.