by Lois Richer
She heard Rod call, “Snowball fight,” and the rush of feet hurtling toward the door. Then all was quiet inside the church.
“Cassie?” Rick’s hand pressed hers, drawing her attention back to the present, to the gentleness of his touch and his voice.
Somehow Rick only had to touch her, to reassure her, and her reservations about him flew from her mind. She had to be careful.
“Where did you go to just now?” He leaned forward, his focus totally on her.
“I was thinking about my father and Eric.” And, because honesty was the best policy, she felt compelled to add, “and you.”
“Me?” Confusion filled his expressive eyes. “Are you likening me to these men you don’t seem to hold in very high esteem?” There was no amusement in the question.
“Not exactly. It’s more that I see their actions more clearly now in hindsight,” she said.
“And you think I’m like them.” There was no anger evident in Rick’s voice or his expression. He simply leaned back and waited for her explanation.
And that, Cassie decided, was the difference.
“I don’t think you’re like them at all. You don’t work people.”
“You mean I don’t use them?” He raised one eyebrow, then smiled when she nodded. “Everyone has problems they’re working through, everyone has reasons for their behavior that I can’t possibly fathom. Everyone is doing the best they can to get through their lives.” He shrugged. “It’s my job as a pastor to help them on that journey, not to judge them.”
“Does that apply to those who wrong you?” Cassie asked. As she waited for his answer, she was distracted by his good looks. His dark hair was a tousled mess. On someone else it would have looked unkempt but on Rick it added a mischievous quality and rendered him younger-looking than his thirty-one years.
“It applies to everyone, Cassie.” Rick’s dark eyes glowed as he spoke. “Yes, I get frustrated when people don’t see my vision or accept my ideas. I’m human. But getting frustrated doesn’t mean I expect them to give up their principles or objections.”
“Why not?” His statement roused her curiosity.
“Because God shows Himself in different ways to different people. I have to keep my focus on showing God’s love to people and leave the rest up to Him.” Rick smiled. “And He does love us, Cassie. In Psalms it says He keeps an eye on us all the time. He remembers our prayers and He gathers our tears in a bottle. Those are the actions of someone who loves us dearly.”
She mulled that over. But before she could pursue it, Michael burst into the sanctuary.
“Cassie, you have to come. Noah fell and hurt his arm.”
Oh, God, her heart cried.
“He’s sitting in the snow,” Michael added as he raced beside her through the foyer. “When we try to help him up, he screams.”
“He’ll be okay, Cassie,” Rick said, his quiet assurance filling her ear.
“Because God will help?” she demanded as she shoved open the door. “I should never have brought him to Churchill.” Rick followed close behind. She saw Noah on the ground and her heart stopped. “It was a mistake.”
“Or maybe God will turn this into a blessing,” Rick murmured. Cassie ignored him and raced to her son.
“Where does it hurt?” she asked Noah, brushing a tender hand across his tousled hair.
“My arm. I think it’s broken.”
“I think so, too,” Cassie murmured. “We have to get you to the hospital so they can set it. We’ll help you stand, honey.” She felt Rick move silently to help Noah stand and was overly conscious of his strong, supporting hand under her elbow, helping her into his car after they’d settled Noah. It would be so easy to lean on Rick. But his comment about Noah’s injury being a blessing infuriated her. How could getting hurt be a blessing? She remained silent while Rick drove them to the medical center. Rick sat only inches away, but she couldn’t speak to him.
To think that she’d been teetering on the edge of trusting.
Rick was wrong. God should have protected her boy. God’s love had failed Noah.
But so had she.
* * *
“Noah?”
Rick watched as Cassie tentatively stepped into the treatment room after talking to the doctor, her face ashen. He followed her not because he had a right to be there, but because he very much wanted to help, to erase the vestiges of terror that he could still see in her eyes.
“I’m f-fine, M-mom. The d-doctor says I b-broke my a-arm.” Noah moved his head when she reached out to smooth his hair.
“He also said you have a lot of bruises that have nothing to do with your broken arm. How did they happen, Noah?” Cassie sat on a chair next to the bed where he was perched.
“I keep slipping on the ice.”
Cassie kept her intense gaze on his face. “You’ve become quite clumsy lately. Is that what you want me to believe?”
“Y-yes.” He turned his head, shifting to gaze out the window.
“Look at me, Noah.” Cassie waited for her son’s attention.
Rick longed to beg her not to push the boy right now, but he saw her desperation and knew she needed answers. After hearing the doctor’s concern about her son’s bruised body, she had to be scared.
The boy turned his head and stared at his mother, but his blue eyes were devoid of emotion.
“Someone told Rick you’re being bullied,” she said in a quiet but anxious tone. “Is that true?”
“No.” Noah didn’t flinch, didn’t move away, but neither did he embrace his mother when she sat beside him and slid an arm across his shoulders.
“You can tell me the truth,” she murmured. “I just want to help you.”
Cassie studied him for an interminable moment. She finally drew her arm away when Noah refused to answer. Rick’s heart hurt for her, knowing that she was reeling from the way her beloved son was shutting her out.
“Aunt Laurel is in the waiting room. She came as soon as she heard. Once your arm is set, we’ll take you home.” Cassie moved away and looked out the window. Rick could see the tears on her cheeks from where he stood.
The medical staff arrived and began to construct the cast that would immobilize Noah’s arm.
“It’s a fairly clean fracture,” the doctor told Cassie. “Six weeks should do it.” He turned to Noah. “This needs to heal so no roughhousing and no hockey. See me in a week to check on things. Got it?”
Noah nodded. The doctor asked Cassie to step outside again, and Rick grabbed his chance to be alone with the boy.
“You want to tell me what’s really happening?” He stared into the pain-filled blue eyes. Noah shook his head once, firmly. “I might be able to help you.”
Nothing.
“There are ways to handle bullying, Noah,” he assured the boy quietly. “Ways that won’t leave you vulnerable as the scapegoat for someone else. But the first step is to talk about it, to figure out what we’re dealing with.”
Noah’s implacable stare told Rick he was wasting his time.
“Okay. But if you ever want help, you call and I’ll be there. Deal?” He held out his hand.
Noah didn’t shake Rick’s hand. As his mother returned, he climbed off the table.
“S-see you l-later,” he said. Then he walked through the door and headed toward the waiting room.
Laurel rushed over to them. “He’s going back to school?”
“For now.” Cassie sank onto a chair. “His whole body is a mess of bruises. The doctor says there are visible signs that Noah is being bullied.” Cassie blinked furiously. “I have no idea what to do,” she admitted, her voice broken.
“Pray,” Laurel advised. “Sooner or later he’ll open up.”
Rick agreed about the praying part. Anger festered inside
the boy and it was getting worse with every day that passed. But he couldn’t say that to Cassie, wouldn’t add to her anguish.
“I’ll pray for him,” he said, “and I’ll try to get him to talk to me. Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. Maybe you could arrange a phone call between Noah and his grandfather, Cassie.”
“Why?” She glared at him.
“Because I believe he needs to talk to someone. He’s mad at me for not telling him I knew your dad, and he doesn’t seem to want to open up to you.” Rick noted Cassie’s wince and wished he’d phrased that better, but he pressed on. “Maybe if you spoke to your father, told him what’s happening, maybe he’d get Noah to talk.”
“I’ll think about it,” she murmured, her face troubled.
Rick wanted so badly to smooth away the worry. That’s when he knew he was getting too involved with this little family—and for the wrong reasons. Was it God’s love he wanted to demonstrate, or was it the need to take care of Cassie because of the feelings that continued to flourish inside his heart, despite his efforts to rout them?
Both. It was both.
It was time for him to distance himself from this impossible attraction for Cassie while figuring out a way to help her. He just wasn’t sure his heart would survive the process.
* * *
“Noah could you stay after practice?” Rick asked.
Noah’s lips tightened but he nodded. When they’d finished and the others were outside playing in the snow, Rick began his apology.
“I really am sorry I didn’t tell you I knew your grandfather. I should have. He was a very important man in my young life. I honestly did forget about the books, though.”
Noah studied him for a long time then finally shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it does. Your grandfather is obviously an important person to you. I should have said something.” Rick waited, praying. Please let him talk. Please.
“He’s the only one who’s honest with me,” Noah muttered.
Aghast, Rick couldn’t hide his astonishment.
“You don’t think your mom’s been honest with you?” he asked.
Noah held his gaze for several moments. Then he looked away.
“I didn’t say that,” he said. He rose. “I need to go. They’re waiting for me.”
Rick placed his hand on the boy’s good arm and waited until he had his entire attention.
“Just for the record, Noah. I will always be honest with you.”
“Sure.” Noah left.
Rick sat on a pew and tried to figure out the meaning of what he’d just heard. He’d keep working on Noah, find out more. Then he’d talk to Cassie.
* * *
Rick paused on the threshold of the family room at Lives, watching as Cassie knelt beside one of the boys in the throes of an epileptic seizure.
“Relax, Michael,” she murmured in a reassuring tone.
“Anything I can do?” Rick asked.
She looked up, startled, glanced at him and shook her head.
In the week since Noah’s incident Rick had been visiting Lives Under Construction a lot. He’d specifically chosen times when he knew Cassie had a shift at the hospital so he could meet up with Noah. But now, seeing her pretty face, his heart took up the familiar double-time rhythm in his chest, forcing him to realize he’d had little success in quelling his responses to her, but at least he’d found a tiny crack in Noah’s armor.
“He’s coming out of it now.” After checking her watch, Cassie noted the time in a little booklet she had in her pocket. Worry clouded her eyes, but the loving touch of her ministering hands continued.
Rick knelt opposite Cassie to clasp Michael’s hand in his. She tossed him a brief smile.
“Lie still for a moment and get your bearings,” she urged as Michael’s eyelids fluttered.
Michael’s amber eyes slowly opened. He stared at her, misery and shame swirling in his gaze.
“It was worse this time, wasn’t it?” he asked in a slightly slurred tone.
“A little longer,” she agreed.
“I wish it would just kill me.” Grimacing, he accepted Rick’s hand to help sit up.
“Don’t say that, Michael,” Cassie said. “These attacks will diminish eventually. The doctors told you that.”
“Yeah, but when?” He touched his temple gingerly. “I think I hit myself.”
“You knocked against the table before I could catch you,” Cassie explained. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Michael’s voice carried a return of the depression Rick had heard in several previous visits.
“Do you feel like getting up, maybe moving to the sofa? It might be more comfortable.” Cassie smiled her thanks at Rick when he helped the boy stand upright.
Michael’s feeble grip fell away as he lowered himself onto the couch. “Is it a sin to want to die, Rick?”
“Well, I don’t think God appreciates us rejecting His gift of life,” Rick temporized, his radar going into full alert at the question.
“I think dying is the only way I’ll ever be free of these seizures,” Michael murmured.
“That’s not true,” Cassie countered.
But Rick heard the reservation in her tone. He watched as she draped a damp cloth on Michael’s brow and smoothed his hair. He’d seen Cassie’s devotion to her patients before, but this was more than a nurse doing her job. This was Cassie’s motherly heart enfolding a troubled kid.
“Can I tell you something, Michael?” Rick sat down across from the prone boy, shifting so Michael could see his face without altering his position.
Cassie sat down near Michael, as well, intently observing him. Rick inhaled then spoke the words God had laid on his heart.
“You’re not here by accident, Michael. You’re here because God has plans for you. Good plans.”
“How do you know?” Michael shifted a little higher on his pillows, his interest clear.
“It’s in the Bible. There’s a verse where God says He knows the plans He has for you, plans for good and not for evil, plans to give you a future and a hope.” Rick smiled.
Michael visibly struggled to adjust his thinking.
“Maybe it’s hard to see now, but God has good things in store for you,” he said, feeling the intensity of Cassie’s stare. “What you have to do is be ready for them.”
“How? I can’t stop the seizures.” The hope that had flickered in Michael’s eyes sputtered out. “None of the doctors can tell me if they’ll stop for sure. What hope is there in that?”
“The hope isn’t in the situation, Michael. The hope is in God. You trust Him to keep His promise to help you.” When Cassie checked Michael’s pulse again, Rick rose. “We can talk again whenever you want. But I think Cassie would like you to rest now.”
“Yes, I would.” She took the damp cloth from Michael’s forehead. “Rest for a while. Think about something nice.”
“Like my saxophone,” he murmured in a drowsy tone.
Cassie beckoned to Rick to follow her out of the room, closing the door gently. Once they were in the hall, she said, “I did ask him if he knew where his saxophone was, after you suggested it. He told me his parents sold it to punish him.”
Rick shook his head in dismay as they walked toward the kitchen.
“Thanks for your help. Michael seemed to relax after you quoted that passage from Jeremiah. It used to be a favorite of mine, too.”
“Not anymore?” He noted the yawn she couldn’t quite smother.
“Oh, I still think it’s a great verse.” She poured herself a second cup of coffee.
“Just not for you. Right?”
“Something like that.” She lifted a hand to rub the back of her neck.
“You’re tired.�
��
“I was up with Daniel last night.” She sighed. “He’s still struggling with withdrawal so he has nightmares. I try to be there when they get too intense.”
“You care a lot about these boys, don’t you?” Rick didn’t have to ask. He already knew the truth, saw it in the tenderness of her gaze whenever it rested on one of the boys. He also saw that the burden of caring for them was wearing her down. “You need a break. Get on some warm clothes.”
“Why?” She blinked at him in surprise.
“We’re going snowshoeing.”
“I don’t know how to snowshoe,” Cassie sputtered. “Besides, I have to keep an eye on Michael.”
“I’m sure Laurel will be happy to check on him while you’re out. Any other excuses?” He grinned when her mouth opened and closed several times. “I didn’t think so. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, but it does the same thing for Jill.”
“Something you learned in medical school?” Cassie gibed.
“Seminary.” He chuckled when she rolled her eyes. “Well?”
“Truthfully? I’d love to get some fresh air. I’ll check with Laurel and see if it’s okay with her. I’ll change and be right back.” She hurried to the door, paused then turned. “You’re sure you have time?”
“Positive,” Rick said, ignoring his better judgment, which told him that this wasn’t the way to create distance. “I’ll get my gear out of the car.”
Kyle was waiting for him when he returned. “I didn’t realize you were here. Were you looking for me?”
“Actually, yes.” Rick felt his face heat up when Cassie appeared and Kyle took a moment to look back and forth between them. “Michael had another seizure. He’s resting now so I suggested Cassie take a break and go snowshoeing with me. Can she borrow your snowshoes?”
Kyle raised an eyebrow but all he said was, “Sure. They’re inside the shed. Have fun.”
“Thanks.” Rick zipped up his suit and grabbed his gloves, grateful that his friend hadn’t demanded an explanation right then and there—because he didn’t have one.