VANCOUVER: The Gem of Canada Is Aglow with Four Romances

by Gail Sattler

  “I know how archived files are stored, Molly. We’re required to keep files for seven years. They have to go somewhere.”

  Molly looked at his suit, which probably cost as much as her entire wardrobe. “If you have asthma or dust allergies, you’ll never survive up there. Do you have any idea how dirty it is in the attic? You’ll ruin your suit.”

  “There’s only one way to solve that.” As he spoke, Ken slipped off his suit jacket and slung it over the back of his chair. Next, he loosened and pulled off his hand-painted silk tie and laid it over the jacket.

  He rolled up his sleeves and picked up one of the larger boxes. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter 2

  Molly opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. If Ken wanted to put files away in the filthy attic, she couldn’t argue. After all, he was now the boss.

  Molly snuck a peek at him as he lifted the largest box and settled it securely in his muscular arms. Even minus the suit jacket and tie, he was still every inch a professional. A five-o’clock shadow darkened his jaw, and dark circles outlined his eyes, making her wonder how long he’d been awake, especially considering his early morning flight and the time-zone change. Despite signs of fatigue, he continued on.

  She was aware of his every footstep behind her as they walked through the office and up the back stairs to the storage room.

  Molly groped around the corner for the switch and flicked it on, cringing at the layer of dust beneath her fingertips. The single bulb barely lit the room, which was probably a blessing in disguise, because the dim light didn’t allow a complete picture of the thick dust and grime. The few occasions she’d spent any amount of time here, Molly had brought a change of clothing and a kerchief to cover her hair. This area was cleaned once a year whether it needed it or not, and she suspected it was more than a little overdue this year.

  Molly pushed the stool with her foot rather than touch it, leaving a circle on the floor where the dust wasn’t quite as high. When she stepped up, she looked down to see a trail of her own footsteps and wondered what the dirt would do to Ken’s imported patent leather shoes.

  Rather than contemplate the filth, she told herself that the sooner she started, the sooner she would be home. She turned and stood on her tiptoes atop the stool to reach the “N” box from five years ago.

  “I can do that, Molly.”

  “It’s okay,” she mumbled between her teeth as she pulled out the dust-covered box. She knew her functional dress would launder better than his silk shirt and the expensive slacks for his tailor-made suit. “I think it will work better if I find the boxes, since I know where most of them are. I’ll hand them to you, then you put the file away and hand the box back to me.”

  She took his silence for agreement and handed him the first dust-covered box. He opened it, inserted the file, returned it, and Molly slid it back. They continued in silence, slowly working their way down the shelving unit, until they were at the corner next to the stair opening.

  Molly slid the stool to the corner, located the next box she needed, and pulled, but it was stuck. She pulled harder, but still it didn’t budge.

  “Let me try that. I’m taller than you, I can maneuver it easier.”

  “No,” she mumbled between her teeth as she pulled harder, “I think I’ve got it. It’s just—” The aged cardboard ripped. With the release of tension, Molly’s whole body jerked backward. The piece of torn cardboard in her hand did nothing to help regain her balance as she flailed her arms. The stool shot out from beneath her feet. Molly toppled backward.

  “Molly!” Ken shouted behind her.

  His hands touched her back as she tumbled down. They grunted in unison as she thumped against him then crashed into the doorframe together. A sharp bump at the small of her back propelled her slightly forward before she crumpled to the ground at the same time as a sickening crash echoed on the stairs behind her.

  Molly tried to scramble to her feet, but her skirt caught on the metal shelving unit. When she tried to push herself up, her shoe slid in the layer of dust, and the pull of the skirt held her in place. She yanked her skirt, not caring about the sound of ripping fabric, and clambered toward the stairs, where Ken lay, arms and legs splayed.

  Molly’s heart pounded as she wondered if she should try to move him or feel for a pulse.

  Before she reached him he moved one arm. He started to push himself up, then groaned and sank down again. She scrambled down three steps, plopped her bottom down on the stair, and helped pull him up by the shoulders until he was in a sitting position, leaning against the metal stair railing. His teeth were tightly clenched and his eyes squeezed shut. All the color drained from his face.

  “Ken! Ken! Say something! Are you all right!?”

  He clutched his arm tightly and slowly his eyes opened. His words came out slow and strained. “I don’t know.”

  “You did WHAT!?”

  Molly lowered her head and buried her face in her hands. The bright and cheerful music from the worship team at the front of the sanctuary did little to lift her sagging spirits. “I said, I nearly killed my boss’s favorite relative.”

  Robbie’s hand rested gently on Molly’s shoulder while Garrett snickered behind her. She heard a muffled “oomph,” and Garrett was silent.

  “Come on, Molly,” Robbie said in a sympathetic whisper. “What really happened?”

  Molly shook her head without removing her hands from her face. “I’m serious. He was helping me put some old files away, and I knocked him down the stairs, and he broke his arm, and it’s all my fault. And he was such a nice guy.”

  “Molly, he’s not dead, and I’m sure he still is a nice guy. Bones heal.”

  “I know he’ll heal, but tomorrow morning they’re going to fire me. I should wear my pajamas to work, because they’re just going to send me right back home again.”

  Garrett’s deep voice sounded from behind Robbie, but Molly couldn’t look at him as he spoke. “They won’t fire you, it was an accident. Accidents happen, Robbie should know. Right, Robbie?”

  “Never mind,” Robbie mumbled. Garrett grunted again and stayed silent. Robbie’s voice brightened. “The service is about to begin, but we’ll pray for you. And him too. What’s his name?”

  Molly finally looked up at her friends at the exact second the volume of the music lowered. The overhead lights dimmed, and the screen with the music words lit up. The worship leader’s voice boomed a welcome to the congregation over the PA system.

  “His name is Ken.”

  Ken squirmed in his seat, barely paying attention. The organist played a somber hymn at a low volume while the minister read a few highlights from the bulletin. His arm still hurt, but at least his wrist wasn’t throbbing quite as badly as it was yesterday. He’d awakened yesterday in a daze, waiting for the effects of the bad dream to pass. Instead, reality set in. The pain didn’t stop. He really had broken his arm.

  Every movement on the hard wooden pew irritated the massive bruise on his back, and the support strap of the sling dug into his neck. Again, he shifted to sit straight to compensate for the unnatural lean to support the weight of the cast.

  He peeked to follow from Aunt Ellen’s hymnal as they started singing. He certainly wasn’t going to make any attempt to hold anything until the swelling in his fingers subsided, which they told him would be about a week. The doctor at the emergency department told him he had been lucky to get away with “only” a broken arm, a slight fracture in his wrist, a few sprained fingers, and a lot of bruising. His shoulder hadn’t been dislocated, it was “only” a pulled ligament. He really didn’t feel so lucky. He hurt all over.

  He still couldn’t believe what had happened. This morning wasn’t much better than the morning before. The only thing that made all the pain and inconvenience worthwhile was that he’d been able to prevent Molly from falling down the stairs and breaking her neck.

  Molly.

  Miss Molly McNeil was really something. Uncle Walter had said he had th
e perfect employee to show him general procedures from the ground up. Of course, he hadn’t taken that to literally mean from the bottom of a stairwell. He smiled to himself, then quickly lowered his head. He winced at the kink in his neck and stared at the hymnal before anyone noticed his mind was elsewhere.

  He liked Molly. He liked her outspoken spirit, her dedicated work ethic, and the way she carried herself. She was also a believer. Despite her junior position in the corporate structure, she made great efforts to do her best, to know her job, and to pay attention to what went on around her. It made her a valuable asset to the company, at least in his eyes. First impressions were important in the professional world, and every time he’d phoned through from the Winnipeg office he’d thought highly of the way the receptionist handled his calls. Now he’d finally met her in person.

  He even liked her fiery red hair. Not that she was his type, but if she wasn’t an employee, he might have tried to get to know her better. After Molly had dropped him off at his aunt and uncle’s home Friday night following his visit to the hospital, and when Aunt Ellen finished fussing with his injuries, he’d asked about her. Uncle Walter didn’t know Molly was a Christian, and therefore had no idea what church she attended, but Ken could plainly see she didn’t attend this one. He could have picked her hair out of any crowd from a mile away.

  The congregation stood, the movement causing him to focus his thoughts on where they should have been in the first place. However, when the worship time was finished and the congregation bowed their heads, Ken’s prayers drifted to Molly McNeil. He asked God to hold her up, because he knew she felt terrible about what had happened.

  Despite what he’d already discovered to be a quick tongue, she possessed a kind heart. She’d been very upset while they were at the hospital. A number of times throughout the examination and steps to set the break and fit the cast he thought she was going to cry. He’d tried to assure her it wasn’t her fault, but he knew he hadn’t convinced her.

  He could hardly wait until work tomorrow, when he would see her again. It would be easier to talk to her a few days after the incident occurred and emotions weren’t running so rampant.

  Molly deliberately drove extra slow on her way to work. She had only been joking when she told Robbie she would wear her pajamas to work, but she hadn’t been joking about the likelihood of getting fired.

  When she drove Ken to Mr. Quinlan’s home after the hospital, the scene she witnessed showed her that Mr. and Mrs. Quinlan loved Ken like the son they never had. Not much had been said except for fussing over poor Ken, although they’d assured her they knew it was only an accident. But, after the shock wore off of seeing him with his dirty and battered clothes and the cast on his arm she wondered if Mr. Quinlan would have second thoughts.

  She buried her face in her hands as she waited for a red light. A million things could have happened. He could have broken his neck and ended up in a wheelchair. Or he could have been killed. For the millionth time, she praised God that compared to the possibilities, he was relatively fine.

  Still, it was all her fault. She was responsible. She wanted to make it up to him, but first she had to face him.

  A car horn behind her jolted her to attention, and she took off with a screech of rubber.

  As she passed a florist, she wondered if maybe she should stop and buy flowers. Men bought flowers for women all the time to express what words could not. However, some things were beyond an apology.

  Reluctantly, Molly pulled into her parking space. She dragged her feet all the way in past the front door of the gaping office tower. A couple of the sales staff stood talking in the lobby as she opened the door. Conversation instantly stopped as soon as they noticed her, and they blatantly stared at her.

  Molly kept walking.

  She continued through the foyer and into the open area of the main office. As soon as people saw her, a collective hush grew.

  Molly wished she could melt into the cracks in the floor. She kept her sights focused straight ahead as she walked to her new desk.

  “Molly? Could I see you for a minute in private, please?”

  Molly cringed. Ken stood in the doorway of Mr. Quinlan’s office. He wore a suit, but the left sleeve hung empty. At waist height, his still reddened and puffy fingers stuck out from the white cast beneath the jacket. He smiled, but the effect was completely negated by the dark circles under his eyes.

  As she approached, Mr. Quinlan rose and left his office

  People started whispering. Molly forced herself to breathe.

  She followed Ken inside, and he closed the door. Instead of sitting in Mr. Quinlan’s chair, he sat in the same chair he’d sat in on Friday and nodded for her to sit as well.

  “Hi, Molly.”

  “Hi,” she choked out. “How are you?” Molly bit her lip at the inaneness of her question.

  “I’m okay. It still hurts, of course, but I’ll heal. I wanted to assure you that neither myself nor Uncle Walter hold you in any way responsible. It was an accident.”

  Molly felt her throat tighten. “But it was my fault, and I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say or do, but I’ve been thinking of you all weekend. I remember when I fell. You pushed me away so I wouldn’t tumble down the stairs. That made you fall down instead of me, and look what happened. I don’t know how I can ever thank you, or how I can make this up to you.”

  She gulped, barely able to fight back tears, although she didn’t know why it mattered. At this point she had nothing left of her dignity anyway.

  Ken forced himself to smile. Molly’s recollection of that split second was accurate. He wouldn’t have mentioned it, but since she did, she forced him to deal with it. “I don’t want your thanks, but I’ll tell you what I do want. It seems I’m going to need more help than I originally planned. Instead of just a week, I’d like you to be my personal assistant until I’m out of the cast.”

  Her face paled. “Me? After what I did to you?”

  “It’s not your fault, Molly. Really. And yes, you.”

  Her eyes trailed down to his throbbing fingers, tightly encased in the plaster cast, then back up to his face. He held himself stiffly, avoiding attempting to analyze why it was so important she agreed.

  “Of course I’ll help. It’s the least I can do. If you can trust me.”

  “If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have asked.”

  Her voice trembled. “Thank you.”

  Ken stood, very pleased with the way things were turning out. “This afternoon I’ll have you type up a few letters for me. Normally I would just type them myself on the computer, but I’m obviously not going to be typing for awhile.”

  Molly stood in front of him. “Yes, well …” She looked down at his arm again. The jacket had slipped back on his shoulder, exposing more of the cast, which, due to the nature of the break, encompassed his wrist and extended past his elbow, partway up his upper arm. “At least it’s your left arm.”

  He didn’t want to tell her, but he knew it would come up sooner or later. “I’m left handed.”

  She stared at his swollen and aching fingers, then covered her face with her hands. “Oh, no …”

  Chapter 3

  As she slowly lifted her head, their gazes locked. She blinked rapidly a few times, her lower lip quivered, her eyes became glassy, then watery, and one lone tear slid down her cheek. “I’m so sorry… .” Ken couldn’t stop himself. He knew he shouldn’t touch her, especially if there was the slightest chance any of the staff could see through the mini-blinds of his uncle’s office. But he did it anyway. He lifted his right hand, gently rested his fingertips on her cheek, then brushed the tear away with the pad of his thumb. Another tear soon followed.

  Ken felt like he’d just been sucker-punched in the gut. A woman’s tears had never affected him like this before, but this time he had no doubt of Molly’s sincerity.

  “Don’t worry, Molly. I’ll heal. We can make the best of it.”

  Molly nodded, stiffened her
back, and clasped her hands in front of her. All she wanted was to go to her new desk and begin her new duties, but she had to gain control of herself first. She wanted to trust Ken when he said neither he nor his uncle held her responsible for the accident. But responsibility aside, she was most thankful Ken wasn’t seriously hurt.

  Briefly, Ken outlined his schedule for the day and gave Molly her instructions. As soon as he was done and she left to begin her new duties, Mr. Quinlan joined Ken inside the office and shut the door.

  As she walked to her newly assigned desk, she could feel everyone’s eyes on her. Her first impulse was to stand up and yell out that it was an accident and for everyone to mind their own business. However, these people were not only her workmates, some of them were her friends. Also, being a Christian, she wanted to show everyone Christ’s love and that she was grateful for the forgiveness offered her, which meant she shouldn’t snap at them for their understandable curiosity.

  While she doubted Mr. Quinlan had made an announcement about the circumstances concerning poor Ken’s broken arm, she knew that in every organization there was always someone who discovered details which should have been considered private. She couldn’t figure out who in this case might have found out she’d been the cause, but she could tell everyone knew.

  As she worked, Molly purposely kept her head down. Since she made such a point of ignoring everyone around her, they eventually filtered their attention away and carried on with their own business.

  Unfortunately, coffee break came too soon. Molly accompanied the usual group of ladies into the lunchroom. The second she sat at the table, she was surrounded.

  “How did you do it?”

  “What were you really doing up there in the storage room?”

  “How mad was he?”

  “How come Mr. Quinlan didn’t fire you?”

  “What’s he like?”

  Molly plunked her mug down so abruptly that coffee sloshed out.