That sounded easy enough. And he silently admitted he was curious about her techniques. Besides, sitting for an hour in the stuffy truck wasn’t as appealing as reclining in a comfortable chair.
Without waiting for his response, Jill led Evie inside. Brent stared at the open door, wondering if he dared place his feet across the threshold. If Arline walked in and found him here, the ramifications might be harsh. But maybe not. The woman had already accepted him bringing Evie here several times per week and would undoubtedly avoid Jill’s apartment until lessons were over with.
Jill pointed toward a quiet corner of the room where a soft recliner and pile of magazines awaited him. Without acknowledging him further, she sat at the table with Evie and went to work.
Stepping across the room, Brent made himself comfortable. A glass of iced lemonade sat on a coaster on the coffee table. He looked up, wondering if Jill had put it there for him. She glanced his way and nodded. Averting her eyes, he reached for the glass and almost drained it in three swallows. Once again, Jill’s consideration surprised him.
As he flipped through a Field & Stream magazine, he made a pretense of reading. He couldn’t help being curious and he listened to Jill’s mild voice as she began Evie’s program.
“Let’s read a story first, okay?” Jill handed Evie a small children’s book.
Evie opened it and Jill began to read about a little lost dog that was lonely for home. Brent watched Jill’s soft lips move as she spoke, his thoughts straying to the day he’d kissed her outside in the afternoon sunshine. She’d tasted like peaches and cinnamon and he craved more of the same.
“Evie, can you point to the word home?” Jill asked.
Evie lifted her hand and pointed. Brent inwardly shook his head and looked away, telling himself it wasn’t right for him to covet his daughter’s teacher. They were both single, but he felt mildly disloyal to Lina. Because he wanted to love and marry again. But that desire would do him no good now. Not when there was no hope of a lasting relationship with Jill.
“That’s right. Now point to the word lost.” Her voice reached him across the room, wrapping around him like a warm downy blanket.
Again, Evie did as asked.
“Yes! Very good.” Jill hugged the girl, leaving one arm wrapped comfortingly around the child. And Brent noticed that Evie didn’t push her away, like she did most people. Rather, she cuddled close against Jill’s side.
“Now can you tell me what happened when the dog finally found his home?” Jill asked.
Evie studied the book, her brow crinkled in concentration as she scanned the words on the page.
“As soon as you know the answer, write it on your erase board,” Jill instructed.
After a few moments, Evie picked up the marker and jotted something on the board. Brent couldn’t help noticing her lack of hesitancy. As though she knew what was expected and was comfortable in complying.
“That’s right,” Jill exclaimed. “The doggie was so tired that he fell fast asleep. You’re doing so well today. I believe you’re already reading and writing at a third-grade level. You’re very advanced for your age. I’m so proud of you.”
Stunned by this news, Brent lifted his head and stared across the room. A blaze of gratitude swept over him like wildfire across the mountain. At least there wasn’t anything wrong with Evie’s brain. Intellectually, the girl had already surpassed her classmates. But socially, they had more work to do. Evie needed to be able to play and interact with her friends. For that, Brent liked the display of physical affection Jill showered upon his daughter. In the past, Evie’s doctors and specialists weren’t affectionate with her. They acted more like automatons. Given the doctor and patient relationship, he figured that was appropriate. But bringing Evie to this home environment provided a more cozy setting. As her daddy, Brent realized Evie needed love as much as she needed anything else. And he owed all of this progress to Jill and the powers of Heaven.
Next, the girls started their writing lessons. He couldn’t see what Evie wrote on her blue-lined paper, but it must have been good, because Jill praised Evie again and again.
After ten minutes, they moved on to artwork. With the patience of Job, Jill helped Evie slip on an apron and tied it in the back. Then Jill laid out a variety of watercolors and brushes for the child.
Evie leaned over the table and rested her chin on her folded arms.
Jill lifted her brows. “You don’t want to color today?”
Evie shook her head, gazing at a distant spot near the door.
“You know we have to color today, but I’ll make it easy on you. Why don’t you draw something that tells me how you’re feeling inside?” Jill suggested.
Evie blinked several times. Finally, she sat back and studied the squares of paint. She looked up at Jill, her eyes squinting in a frown. When Jill didn’t seem to notice, the girl reached for her dry-erase board and scribbled something there before showing it to Jill.
Jill shook her head, but sounded optimistic. “No, I’m sorry. You’ve used up all my black paint. But you can use the other colors today.”
Evie released a shuddering breath. For a moment, Brent thought she might refuse. But then she picked up the brush, dabbed it tentatively in the color yellow and went to work. In studious concentration, she chewed her bottom lip. While she painted, Jill tidied the piles of books. After a few minutes, she peered over Evie’s shoulder at the girl’s progress.
“That’s beautiful work, Evie. Would you like to show your dad?”
Evie nodded, picked up the heavy, absorbent paper, and displayed it for Brent’s view. A big, yellow sun with round eyes and a nose. And the significance of the artwork brought a hard lump of emotion to Brent’s throat. He gave a laughing croak of pleasure. She’d graduated from black, angry scribbles to happy, yellow sunshine. If he wasn’t seeing it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t believe it.
“That’s beautiful, honey. We can hang it on the fridge at home,” he suggested.
She nodded and whirled around to lay the painting back on the table. Her elbow clipped the paint set and the palette clattered to the floor. A splatter of wet colors smeared across the table, chair and green linoleum.
“Evie!” Startled, Brent shot up out of his seat.
The girl flushed red as a new fire engine. Before he could tell her it was all right, she ducked her head in shame and released a groan of despair. She dropped the painting and skittered across the room and darted behind the sofa. The painting sank to the floor.
Oh, no. Brent leaned over the back of the couch and saw his child squeezed back into the farthest corner, her knees pulled tight against her chest, her face buried in her hands. She rocked back and forth, little pathetic movements that told him she’d retreated into her own world. From past experience, he knew this was Evie’s way of avoiding confrontation. Of hiding. Just like she’d done the night her mother was killed.
At least this time, she wasn’t screaming.
“She hid behind the cashier’s counter,” he whispered to Jill.
She nodded her understanding but didn’t speak. She gave Brent a stern look and pointed at his chair, silently insisting he sit back down. Brent remembered her warning that he could wait inside, as long as he didn’t interfere with her teaching. He hadn’t verbally agreed, but by coming inside and sitting down, he’d given his silent acquiescence.
He sat down, his heart plummeting. The fear of failure twisted inside his gut. He figured he’d just learned a huge lesson in how not to respond toward his daughter. But he’d been surprised. Taken off guard. When the paint had spilled, he’d overreacted. He just hoped he hadn’t reversed all the progress Evie had made over the past few weeks.
Undeterred, Jill picked up Evie’s painting and set it on the table where it wouldn’t be ruined. She then left the scattered paints where they lay and got down
on her hands and knees. While she shimmied back behind the couch, Brent considered going over to clean up the mess.
No, he better not. Without Jill’s permission, he didn’t dare breathe too loud or even move a muscle. And that’s when he realized he trusted Jill completely. Somehow, he knew she’d make this right again. And that made him feel even worse. Because he couldn’t tell her how hard he was trying to make her brother’s situation better at the sawmill. He wanted to help her and Alan. To get the theft issue resolved and ease some of the tension Arline felt toward him.
Unable to keep from spying, he angled his chin so he could peer around the corner at the girls. Without asking consent, Jill scooped Evie into her arms. But Evie refused to move her hands away from her face. Cocooned behind the couch, Jill held the girl in the dark shadows.
“There, Evie. I’m not angry. Everything’s okay. It’s just a little spilled paint. No harm done. It can easily be fixed,” Jill murmured against the girl’s hair.
Brent expected Jill to pull the child out from behind the couch or leave her there to fume. That’s what her other teachers had done. Which he knew would set Evie to screaming. But Jill didn’t move. She just held Evie quietly, resting her chin against the girl’s forehead. Waiting. Comforting. Offering reassurance. And then Jill started to sing. A soft lullaby Brent had never heard before. Her lilting voice sounded gentle and sweet. Kind and soothing.
For a good fifteen minutes, they all sat like that. Mannequins, unable to move. Just like the day when they’d met at the gas station.
Brent felt lulled by Jill’s voice, his body relaxing as he almost drifted off to sleep. She brushed her hand against Evie’s hair, until the girl lowered her hands enough that she could peep out at the woman before quickly clenching her eyes shut again. A few more minutes, and Evie’s hands lowered so they only covered her mouth. Gradually, Jill wooed the child into looking up and meeting her eyes.
“You know what? I’m hungry,” Jill said softly. “How would you like to help me clean up the spilled paint? Then we can go visit Arline. I know she’s made a fresh batch of snickerdoodles, just for you. Would you like that?”
Evie’s lips quivered. She blinked her big baby blues and finally nodded, but she still didn’t move.
Jill took the girl’s hands as she slid out from behind the couch. Evie followed. With a bit of coaxing, the woman got the child to help pick up the paintbrushes while she sopped up the drying paint with a damp cloth. Brent watched in stunned amazement. It was like witnessing a miracle. He compared this moment to the day Evie was born. Something unique and wonderful. Something he’d never forget.
And when they finally left him there so Evie could go to Arline’s house for her cookies, Brent still sat frozen in his seat. He rested his hands on his knees and stared at the closed door. Jill wasn’t Annie Sullivan, and Evie wasn’t Helen Keller, but Brent knew he’d witnessed something amazing. A tremendous breakthrough. A marvelous gift from God.
Evie had just survived what she undoubtedly perceived as a catastrophe. And she’d done it without tears. Without shrieks of anguish, and without pain.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Jill returned to her apartment to tell Brent that Evie was ready to leave. She handed him a napkin with two snickerdoodles folded inside.
“These are for you. Evie’s in the house with Mom, but she should be ready to go in a few minutes,” Jill told Brent.
He stood and accepted the cookies with a wry smile. “There’s no arsenic in these, is there?”
She laughed, amused by his candor. “Of course not. Mom would never deliberately poison you.”
She wanted to be angry at this man, but she couldn’t. Not after what she’d just been through with Evie. After all, she’d seen the angst written across Brent’s face. The fear in his eyes. He’d been devastated by Evie’s actions. It wasn’t his fault. In fact, she was impressed by his tireless devotion to his daughter. She knew of parents who would have given up and had their child institutionalized by now. But not Brent. And she liked that about him. A lot.
He considered the speckles of cinnamon on the crinkled cookies. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I overreacted.”
“I know. But it’s not your fault. You haven’t been trained in how to react. Next time, if there isn’t blood gushing from somewhere, or the house is on fire, you just act like it’s no big deal. After all, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. And right now, Evie needs to learn that it’s okay for her to make an error. That no one’s perfect, and no one’s going to die if the paint is spilled on the floor. Evie’s been through that before, and people were killed because of a bad situation. She needs to believe that won’t happen every time she makes a mistake. You understand what I’m saying?”
He nodded, his eyes registering comprehension. “I think so. For Evie, when something as simple as paint being spilled happens, she fears for her life.”
“That’s right. Literally. For Evie, it’s not just a matter of cleaning up a mess. In her mind, the stakes are life and death. When she makes a mistake, she actually fears she might be killed.”
Oh, wow! He braced the palm of his hand against his forehead, a deep breath whooshing from his lungs. “Of course. How could I be so stupid? I never thought of it that way before. I didn’t realize. Oh, my poor little girl.”
“Well, now you know, and that can help change how you react with her. And when she starts school in the fall, you should point this out to her teachers as well. I’m sure it would help how they treat her in the future.”
He looked at her, his eyes crinkled in astonishment. “Thank you for your insight. But I still don’t know how you did that.”
“Did what?”
“You got Evie to come out from behind the couch and help clean up the paint.”
She tilted her head. “I take it that’s unusual, too?”
He raked his fingers through his short hair, his hand visibly trembling. “Oh, yes. In the past, an incident like that normally takes Evie several days to recover her composure. Now I understand why. She thought she might be killed. But you got her to respond in a matter of minutes. Just like that day at the gas station.”
Yes, she had. And Jill had no idea why. She only knew she loved Evie. She genuinely wanted to help rescue the little girl from the cruel memories that must still be haunting her mind.
“We really are making progress, then.” Jill couldn’t prevent a smile of satisfaction from curving her lips.
“You have a gift,” Brent said.
Hmm, Jill wasn’t sure about that. When Evie had hidden behind the couch, she’d wondered what to do. How to help the girl. Acting on instinct, she’d decided Evie shouldn’t be alone in her anguish. The child needed to know someone was there for her. That she was safe. That she could trust Jill not to yell and scream at her for making a silly mistake.
Brent stepped close, his angular face softening. “Jill, I don’t want to pretend anymore. There’s something going on between us that I don’t fully understand.”
She met his eyes, knowing he was right, but wanting to deny it anyway. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” He whispered the words, so softly that she almost didn’t hear.
He didn’t touch her, but she wished he would. His gentle consideration drew her in like a magnet. She liked being near this man, though she’d only admit that to herself.
“You’re an answer to my prayers,” Brent said.
Jill froze, her feet feeling as though they were nailed to the floor. His words took her off guard and left her feeling oddly emotional. She wanted to weep for what Evie and her father had been through. To hold them both close against her heart and protect them from ever being hurt again. “I’ve never been anyone’s answer to a prayer before.”
A hoarse laugh emitted from his throat. “Well, you are
to mine. And I wish you could be so much more.”
His confession startled her. Mostly because it mirrored her own feelings. An odd mixture of satisfaction and confusion bludgeoned her mind. Jill could hardly believe his revelation. Since her divorce, trust was difficult for her. She could sympathize with Evie in that regard. But being near Brent and working with his daughter had helped restore her self-worth. To realize she still had a lot to offer the world. To think that maybe, just maybe, she might be able to love and be loved again.
“I can’t tell you how badly I wish you weren’t a forest ranger,” she said.
He tilted his head in confusion, gazing at her lips. “That’s a rather odd thing to say right now, don’t you think?”
She laughed and took a step back. “Yes, it is.”
“You’ll make a great mother one day,” Brent continued.
She jerked her head up and stared at him in awe. “You think so?”
He stepped closer. “Yes, I do.”
She felt drawn to him. Transfixed by this kind man she couldn’t quite accept. She loved Evie like her own child. The girl’s success meant a great deal to her and she couldn’t help wishing she were Evie’s mother. And that made her realize she also cared a great deal for Brent. If only they’d met under different circumstances. If only he wasn’t the forest ranger and she had no affiliation with the sawmill.
If only she wasn’t going back to Boise in a few weeks.
He touched her cheek, the rough pad of his fingers brushing against her flesh. Warm, gentle and addictive. A muzzy sensation fogged her brain. With him standing so close, she couldn’t think straight. All the biases and social strictures between them evaporated. She couldn’t think of anything except being near him.
“Is there no way we can get past what I do for a living? Is there no way for you to simply see me as a man?” he whispered.
She almost snorted. Right now, she couldn’t think about anything else except how masculine he was and how much she wanted him. Currents of electricity buzzed between them. An unseen power that was becoming more and more difficult to fight. But that was just what she must do. Fight it. Ignore it. Make it go away.
Love Inspired March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Wife for JacobThe Forest Ranger's RescueAlaskan Homecoming Page 33