He contemplated slipping the report into her school mailbox rather than handing it over face-to-face. Delivering it like an interoffice memo would be a lot easier on him.
It would also be a cop-out, he reasoned, angry with himself for even considering such a thing. Taking care of the children he’d been assigned to was his sworn responsibility. If that meant he had to face the one woman who could tie his insides in knots with a mere smile, then so be it.
Had the report been faxed to the school earlier in the day, Sean could have passed it to Rachel at lunch or on her break. Unfortunately, he didn’t receive the pages until well after three in the afternoon. That meant he had to let it wait till the following morning, try to catch Rachel before she went home or follow her to her house. That third option was out of the question. However, since their time to help Samantha was rapidly running out, waiting another day wasn’t fair, either.
Which meant he’d better get a move on. He started looking for Rachel on the front lawn by the bus zone. She wasn’t there. Hurrying to her classroom, he tried the door. It was locked. The lights were off.
Frustrated, he wheeled and jogged toward the one other place she might be—the faculty parking lot. Until he spotted her getting into her car, he hadn’t realized how relieved he’d been when he’d thought he’d missed catching up to her.
He swallowed his pride and waved. “Rachel! Wait.”
She paused and looked back, her hand on the door, one foot already inside the car. As Sean drew closer, she straightened and faced him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just…” He waved the loose sheets of paper while he grabbed a few quick, extra breaths. “I knew you’d want to see this ASAP.”
“What is it?”
“The police report you asked for. About Sam’s parents.”
Frowning and still gripping the open door, she eyed her car as if it were a lifeboat and the parking lot had suddenly become an ocean of hungry sharks. “You can see I’m on my way home. Why did you wait this long to bring it to me?”
“Had to,” Sean said. “It just came.”
“Oh.” Rachel was chagrined. “Okay. I apologize. So, what does it say? Was Samantha in the car that day?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t taken the time to read it.” He held out the papers. “I’ve been trying to find you ever since Mary told me this fax was here.”
“Well,” Rachel said with a sigh, “come on, then. Let’s go sit in the shade and read it together. Then we’ll both know what it says and we can discuss it intelligently.”
“Sure.”
Only, Sean wasn’t sure. Not about anything. The moment he’d sighted Rachel his heart had leapt into his throat and lodged there, cutting off half his air and leaving him thoroughly disconcerted. He knew it was impossible, yet every time he saw her she seemed prettier. More appealing. Sweeter. Each time he parted from her he’d be positive she could never improve on such absolute flawlessness. But she always did.
Falling into step behind her, he watched her graceful walk, noticed the way fine tendrils of hair had escaped from the pinned-up twist at the back of her head, saw how light her step was even though she had to be weary from a long day. He grimaced. It wasn’t fair of her to look that good when he was trying so hard to do the right thing by staying away from her and not letting himself get involved.
Too late, his conscience insisted. You’re already more than involved. You’re in love with her, you dummy. Now what are you going to do about it?
Nothing, Sean countered firmly. A woman like Rachel needed a husband who came from a normal family, a man who wasn’t afraid to become a father. Someone who could give her children without worrying about passing on the tendencies toward alcoholism and addiction that had polluted his lineage for generations.
And she also needed someone who fit into her world a lot better than he did, he decided easily. Judging by what he’d already observed, even if he did eventually find his niche in Serenity, he’d never be one of the “natives.” That was a state of being a person was born into, not one that could be adopted.
Knowing he was right, Sean’s heart ached. Some things were obviously meant to be. Others were not. It was bad enough that he’d kissed Rachel the first time. Repeating that mistake had been totally reckless. Idiotic. He’d let himself follow his heart’s leading, and now he was stuck living with the consequences, the memories.
Sean sighed quietly. There was no way to undo the damage already done, but he could still protect Rachel. She’d be fine, as long as he never let on that he’d fallen head-over-heels in love with her.
Rachel led him into the shade of a broad oak and settled herself on one end of the bench beneath it.
Sean remained standing until she looked up at him quizzically and asked, “Why don’t you sit down? You’re making me nervous.”
“Okay.” With a purposely nonchalant shrug he took a seat as far from her as the bench would allow. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together, ostensibly ignoring her.
If Rachel hadn’t been so engrossed in the sketchy report she was reading, she’d have stopped right then to question Sean more. For the past few days he’d been acting ridiculous, dodging her as if she were some kind of predator and he were her prey!
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. After all, she hadn’t thrown herself at him. In both instances their kisses had been his idea, not hers. So how dare he avoid her as if everything that had happened between them was her fault?
The instant she finished scanning the report she thrust it toward him with a terse “Here.”
He straightened and took it. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you find out what you wanted to know?”
“The report says Samantha was in the car, just like she told me she was. There’s no mention of any good Samaritan lending a hand, like you thought.”
“That doesn’t mean there wasn’t one.”
“True.”
Sean scowled over at her. “Why are you acting like you’re mad at me? I didn’t write the stupid report.”
“The way I feel right now has nothing to do with that report,” she countered. “It’s you.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“Nothing. Everything.” Giving in to frustration, Rachel jumped up and began to pace in front of the bench. “You’ve been treating me like I have the plague.”
“Me? You’re the one who’s been avoiding me!”
“I have not.”
“What about the time you got up and left the lunchroom the minute I walked in?”
“I happened to be finished eating. But how about when you were coming out of your office yesterday and I was walking by? You turned around and ducked back in, the minute you saw me.”
“I did not. I— I just left something on my desk and had to go back for it, that’s all.”
“Right. And pigs can fly.”
Sean couldn’t help smiling as he glanced at the sky and ducked for effect. “I sure hope not.”
“It’s not funny.” Rachel was having trouble remaining irate in the face of his captivating grin.
“Yes, it is. Know what? You’re really cute when you’re upset.”
“Upset? Who said I was upset?”
“Are you telling me you’re not? Tsk-tsk. I think your halo is slipping, Ms. Woodward.”
“If I have one, it’s probably down around my ankles right about now,” she countered wryly. “I told you Christians weren’t perfect. I keep trying, though.”
“If I wanted to keep you all riled up I’d tell you you’re very trying, but since I’ve promised myself I’ll behave when I’m around you, I won’t say it.”
“Oh, thanks. That makes me feel much better.”
“I knew it would,” Sean said with a laugh. “And you’re right. I have been avoiding you. I thought it was best.”
Rachel heaved a sigh and nodded. “Yeah. Me, too. I guess we’re being silly. After all, we do have
to work together. There’s no way we can both occupy such a small campus and not accidentally run into each other.”
“I suppose not.”
She smiled. “The past few days have been interesting, though. I almost fell this morning when you popped out of your office and I ducked into the ladies’ room to avoid you. The floor had just been mopped. For a few seconds there, I thought I was going to slide into the sinks, fall down and break my—neck.”
“That sounds pretty drastic,” Sean said, “and awfully hard to explain on an accident report. I suggest we both stop acting like kids with grudges and begin behaving like sensible adults.”
Rachel pulled a face. “Aww. Do we have to?”
“I intend to try.”
“Really? You aren’t going to grab me and kiss me again?”
“I certainly hope not.” He sobered. “I realize what a terrible mistake that was.”
Chin raised, she defended her wounded pride with a terse “It certainly was.”
“You hated it?” A muted smile gave away the fact he was teasing again.
“Worst kiss I ever had,” she replied.
“Liar. There goes your halo again.”
Rachel made a derisive noise and scrunched one corner of her mouth into an exaggerated jeer. “Halo? Ha! As long as I hang around you, I’ll probably never even come close to earning one.”
“And you blame me for that? Oh, great. Now I suppose I’m responsible for keeping you out of heaven, too?”
“It doesn’t work like that.” She paused to give him an encouraging pat on the arm, leaving her hand there just a fraction too long before she came to her senses and jerked it away. “I don’t believe people can ever be good enough to earn their way into Paradise. I know I certainly couldn’t. That’s where Jesus comes in.”
“He has your admission ticket, you mean?”
Rachel smiled sweetly and said, “Yes. He’s got everybody’s. Even yours. Bought and paid for.”
“I sincerely doubt that.”
“I know you do. That’s too bad.”
“Why? Because you can’t talk me into buying your belief system?”
“No, because I like you, Sean. I don’t want to see you miss out on all the blessings the Lord has waiting for you.”
“Yeah, well, my folks went to church all the time and it never did them much good that I could see. The only time I ever heard my dad mention God was when he was drunk as a skunk and cursing at the top of his lungs.”
Once again she laid her hand on his arm, this time with more tenderness, greater courage. “Try not to look at the worst examples. Even good Christians have bad days. We all make mistakes we regret later. The point is, we may be far from faultless but we’re learning how to live better lives all the time. That’s why I go to church. Think of it as God’s School.”
“I’d probably flunk out.”
“Why? Because your father did?” She ignored the disgusted glance he gave her and went on. “Have you ever asked yourself what he might have been like without his faith?”
Sean huffed. “Don’t even go there.”
“Why not?”
“Because, thanks to my brothers, I already know. I’ve watched Paul and Ian all my life. It hasn’t been pretty.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re the same kind of person they are,” Rachel insisted.
“Doesn’t it? Tell that to a geneticist and see what he says.”
“I’d rather trust the Lord than rely on scientists. Oh, they have their place. I’m not saying they don’t. But they can claim to have all the right answers one day, then turn around and contradict themselves the next. The more they learn, the more they realize they don’t really know.”
Pausing, she began to smile in spite of the seriousness of their discussion. “The same thing happens to me when I begin to study the Bible. I know I’ll never understand everything about it. Fortunately, a person doesn’t have to be well educated to become a Christian. Faith isn’t reasoned. It’s more basic than that.”
“How so?”
Rachel laughed at herself and shook her head. “I wish I could explain. All I know is what happened to me after my father got sick.”
Sean was studying her expression. Empathetic, he reached for her hand. “Go on.”
“I was barely a teenager at the time. Daddy and I were very close. I didn’t see how I could live the rest of my life without him if he died. Thoughts of suicide kept popping into my head. That really scared me. Finally, when I thought I was at the end of my rope, I called out to Jesus. I don’t know why I did it. I just know that at that moment, everything changed for me.”
Gently squeezing her fingers, Sean said, “I’m glad your parents gave you a faith to call on when you needed it.”
“Did they?” Rachel raised misty eyes to him and blinked back tears. “When I went to them and tried to explain how happy and relieved I felt, they didn’t seem to understand what I was trying to say. It wasn’t until just before Daddy died that he told me he’d turned to Jesus the same way I had.”
“What about your mother?”
“Martha Woodward is already as perfect as any Christian can get. Ask her. She’ll be more than happy to tell you.”
“So you’re still worried about her?”
“Yes. And no. I did all I could when I told her about my conversion. I can’t coerce her into believing, any more than I can convince you to give God a chance. If you choose not to open your mind to the spiritual possibilities all around you, then that’s your choice. It always will be.”
Chapter Thirteen
Rachel didn’t have to try to get away from Sean after she spoke so boldly. He seemed more than happy to part company with her.
Heading for home, she tried to relive their conversation, hoping to assure herself she hadn’t been too preachy. Not only were most of her brilliant comments beyond recall, she couldn’t even be sure she was putting the parts she did remember into the proper sequence. For all she knew, she might have alienated him for good, when that was the opposite of what she wanted to do.
That’s what I get for praying for the guy. Thanks, Father. But I didn’t mean I wanted to be the one to talk to him. I wanted You to send somebody else. Anybody but me. Please?
No booming voice came out of the clouds to answer, nor did Rachel expect it to. She’d had enough experiences with what she viewed as God’s sense of humor to recognize an ongoing satire, especially when she was such an integral part of it. The temptation to try to figure out the Good Lord’s plans beforehand was strong, as usual. It was also foolhardy. The more she tried to help, the more likely it was that everything would get worse. Quickly.
So what am I supposed to be doing? she prayed. Just tell me and I’ll do it, Father. I promise.
Sweet thoughts of Sean were joined by the image of Samantha the first time Rachel saw her. Such a pitiful little thing. So lost. So in need of love. However much time they had left to get to know her, it wouldn’t be half long enough.
The idea of some shirttail relative claiming that dear little child made Rachel’s temples throb. It wasn’t right. The law shouldn’t be allowed to interfere and move her. Not when Samantha was finally getting settled, finally acting more like a normal, happy child.
“So, what am I doing going home when I could be headed for Hannah’s, instead?” Rachel asked herself aloud.
That was such a good question that she turned right instead of left on Highway 62 and started toward Squirrel Hill Road.
In her heart she knew she was doing the right thing. The peace of mind that immediately soothed her when she made her decision was further proof she was finally on the right track.
The Brodys were at home when Rachel pulled up in front of their old farmhouse.
Drying her hands on her apron, Hannah came out onto the porch. “Well, hello there. You missed supper, but I think I can scare up a bit more if you’re still hungry.”
“I don’t want to be a bother. I can’t stay. I was just on my wa
y home and got this urge to stop by. Hope it’s all right.”
“’Course it is. You come right on in.”
Climbing the front steps to the covered porch made Rachel feel as if she were returning to a beloved home. Hannah’s house had been her refuge on more than one occasion, especially in the difficult months after her father’s death. In retrospect, she supposed if she’d been older at the time she’d have been more tolerant of her mother’s vacillating moods.
“Is Samantha busy?” Rachel asked.
“That child is always busy. Never sits still for more’n a minute or two.” She gave a satisfied sigh. “Right now, I suspect she’s out in the chicken house collectin’ eggs for the third or fourth time today. Poor hens can’t stay ahead of her.”
Laughing softly, Rachel remembered doing the same chore for Hannah as a child. “That used to be a favorite job of mine, too. I swore I could tell those hens apart. Even had names for them.”
“I know. You used to say they talked to you, too. Always did have a wonderful imagination. I ’spect that’s why you cotton to kids the way you do.”
“Which reminds me,” Rachel said. “Sean got me a copy of the accident report about Samantha’s parents. She was in the car with them when they wrecked, just like she said. According to the investigator, she was thrown clear.”
Thoughtful, Hannah nodded. “Could be.”
“Yes, it could, only she didn’t have a scratch on her. The car was totaled. It rolled over and over, then landed upside down at the bottom of a ravine.”
“Maybe she fell out before it happened.”
“That was my first thought.” Rachel raised her eyebrows and shook her head slowly as she explained further. “Samantha was found at the bottom of the cliff right next to the flattened car. If she did fall out, it wasn’t until the major damage had already been done. So why wasn’t she hurt?”
“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
“That her guardian angel actually did rescue her?” Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know. The report also said that it looked like her seat belt might have been cut to free her, which contradicts the theory that she was thrown clear. She’s small. If she was wearing a belt and riding in the back seat, that might explain how she survived when the car was crushed, but it still doesn’t explain how she managed to free herself while she was hanging upside down, then wiggle out without getting cut on broken glass or jagged pieces of metal.”
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