“What smells so good?” Lily twisted her damp hair into a braid.
“Nick’s turkey soup. He had some in his freezer at home and dropped it off earlier.” Chloe smiled as she ladled the liquid into two bowls. “I’ll bring a tray to your room.”
Lily wanted to argue she’d been in bed long enough, but her weakened limbs betrayed her. Chloe followed her into the bedroom with the tray. Once Lily was settled, Chloe returned with her own food, and together they shared French bread with the homemade soup. It was the most delicious meal Lily had ever tasted. “Nick is a great cook.”
“Yeah. Maybe he’ll make this for the people in his shelter.”
“His what?” Lily’s hand stilled on the spoon.
“Hasn’t he told you about his plan?”
Lily shook her head.
Chloe tore a piece of bread in half. “He wants to open a home for abused women and children.”
“Because of his father,” Lily murmured, recalling his confession the night he’d hauled Marco Messini off her. She understood immediately how perfect this would be for him. To provide others with the protection he’d needed when he was a child.
“He told you about that?”
“A little, yes.”
Chloe wiped her mouth with a napkin. “He has a property in mind for the shelter. An abandoned house that’s been in our family for years. I don’t know much about it.”
Reality clicked in Lily’s brain, like the tumblers of a lock falling into place. That’s why Nick was at the Strickland house that day. Why hadn’t he told her the whole truth?
Chloe rose to put her dishes on the dresser before removing Lily’s tray. She fixed Lily with a curious gaze. “I hear you and Maxi had a bit of a...disagreement yesterday.”
Suddenly zapped of energy, Lily sagged back against the pillows. Her eyelids begged to close. “It was nothing.”
“Maxi didn’t seem to think so. She was pretty upset.”
Lily’s fought the cowardly urge to hide under the covers. “It wasn’t her fault. I overreacted to her pushing Nick on me. I’ll apologize when I see her.”
Chloe stacked more dirty glasses on the tray, watching her. “Nick’s getting to you, isn’t he?”
Faced with Chloe’s frank amber gaze, Lily found she couldn’t deny it. “I guess so.”
“Why does that make you so miserable? I’d be thrilled if a wonderful guy like Nick was interested in me.” Shadows from the bedside lamp danced over Chloe’s pretty features.
Lily sank farther into the bed and sighed. “I’m no good at relationships, Chloe. Mine always end in disaster. And I care about Nick too much to put him through all that ugliness.” Her bones melted into the mattress. “We’re better off as friends.”
Chloe studied her for a moment. “Maybe you’ve been dating the wrong guys.”
Though Lily found taking romantic advice from a teenager somewhat ironic, she appreciated Chloe’s efforts. “I’m afraid my father has ruined me from ever having a normal relationship. Proven by all the jerks I’ve been involved with since I left home.”
Chloe came to sit beside her on the bed and laid a sympathetic hand on her arm. “I think you’re scared to try a decent guy for a change. Scared it could actually work out, and you might even be happy.”
Lily shook her head as a wave of sadness washed over her. “I haven’t been happy since my mother died. At least, not until I met you...and Maxi.” And Nick.
“Well, it’s a start. I’ll be praying for you, Lily. That God will heal your wounds.” Chloe reached over to envelop her in a warm embrace.
The clean scent of Chloe’s perfume filled Lily’s senses. She hugged her back, her heart squeezing with love. And for one glittering moment in the arms of her sister, Lily allowed herself to believe happiness was an actual possibility.
13
Doc Anderson came back to check on Lily the next morning. Though she’d been told he’d taken care of her for two days while she was in a semi-conscious state, this was the first time she’d actually talked to him. His soothing manner and kind air soon put her at ease. After checking her vital signs, Doc pronounced her ninety percent recovered, but recommended another full day of rest.
“If you push yourself too soon, you’ll end up in the hospital,” he said. “You don’t want to ruin all our hard work, do you?”
The twinkle in his eyes allowed Lily to relax. “No, sir.” She smiled and settled back against the pillows, amazed a modern doctor made house calls. She found herself liking this gentle, jolly man. Still, could she trust him enough to question him about her family’s tragedy?
“When you do go back to work, start with short shifts. You’ll tire quickly at first.” He packed his stethoscope into his bag and snapped it shut.
“I will.”
“Excellent. Glad to see you looking so much better, my dear.” He turned toward the door.
“Wait. Can I ask you something?” The words were out before Lily could take them back. But she couldn’t pass up this opportunity to see what Doc Anderson might know about the Strickland murders.
He stilled, his hand on the doorknob. “Certainly.”
“I understand you’ve been the doctor here for a long time.”
He turned to face her. “Close to thirty years. Why?”
She swallowed back her nerves and willed her voice to remain steady. “Were you called to the Strickland house the night of the murders?”
His brows shot together, creating a wreath of wrinkles on his forehead. “I was there, along with the paramedics, the coroner, and the police. Why? What do you know about the Stricklands?”
She weighed her answer carefully. “They were…relatives of mine. One of the reasons I came to Rainbow Falls was to find out more about what happened to them.”
A guarded look shuttered his face. “I see.” He came back into the room and lowered himself onto the chair by her bed. “I don’t know how much help I can be.”
She licked her lips that had suddenly gone dry. “From what I’ve been told, the mother, father, and two boys were shot, one girl was seriously injured and a baby survived unharmed.” Nerves swam through her system. She wanted to trust this man with the truth, but fear held her back.
“That’s right,” Doc said. “Saddest thing I ever saw.”
“Is it true Mr. Strickland was responsible for the murders?” Lily blurted the question before she had time to formulate her words.
“You’d have to ask the police.”
“But in your opinion,” she pressed, “do you think he did it?” She leaned forward and waited for his answer.
Sadness dripped over his features. “Yes. I believe David Strickland was responsible.”
The air whooshed out of her lungs as she sank back. Her own father had put that bullet in her.
Doc Anderson rose to leave, his grim expression indicating he was unwilling to continue the conversation.
“Someone adopted the baby, but what happened to the other daughter?”
Doc Anderson’s expression changed to one of puzzlement. “You mean little Addie?”
She nodded. “No one seems to know what happened to her.”
Doc gave her a hard look and suddenly Lily realized he must have seen her scar. Would he figure out who she was?
“The child was still alive, but barely. They took her to the hospital in Kingsville.” He paused. “She died a few weeks later.”
Lily’s fisted hands tightened on the blankets. It was true then. Everyone believed she had died from her injuries.
“I’m sorry if you’ve been hoping your relative was alive,” he said kindly, “because that’s not the case.” He picked up his bag. “Good day, Lily.”
****
Nick opened the door to Lily’s apartment, juggling a casserole dish and his keys. He found her standing in the kitchen stirring a cup of tea, her hair swept off her face in a loose bun. Even in an old sweat suit, she lit up the room.
“Nice to see you on your feet.”
She whirled around, hand at her throat. “Nick. You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry, I’ll have to remember to knock now that you’re no longer comatose.” He grinned, his relief at seeing her so improved making him giddy. “I’m glad you didn’t try to go in to work today.”
She plucked the teabag from her cup and threw it in the trash. “Not quite up to that yet. Doc said I could go back for a few hours tomorrow.”
“That’s good news.” He held up the dish in front of him. “I thought you might be getting sick of soup, so I brought some homemade mac and cheese.”
“You have to stop spoiling me like this, Mr. Logan.”
The sound of her light laughter did crazy things to his pulse.
“Maybe I like spoiling you.” He opened the fridge and placed the casserole inside, then stuffed his keys into his pant pocket.
Lily watched him, cup in hand, a solemn look on her face. Devoid of all makeup, the pureness of her inner beauty shone through. Nick couldn’t fathom how she viewed herself as a bad person.
“Could we talk for a few minutes?” she asked.
“Sure.” He grabbed a bottle of water and followed her into the living room, where he took a seat beside her on his old green couch.
“I need to ask you about something Chloe told me.” She curled one leg underneath her.
Her somber expression sent warning bells off in his head. “Go ahead.”
“Chloe said you want to open a shelter for women.”
“That’s right.” So far, so good.
“Which is totally admirable. I understand how important that would be to you because of your childhood.”
Nick sensed a major “but” coming and chose his words with care. “Exactly. I want to provide a haven for victims of abuse—something my mother and I never had.”
Her brown eyes were direct and honest. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re planning to use the Strickland house for your shelter? That’s why you were there that day, wasn’t it?”
Nick was momentarily stunned. He had no idea Chloe knew anything about the property. “Chloe told you that?”
Lily cupped the mug in her hands. “She told me you had an abandoned house in mind. I just put it together.”
Relief coursed through him. Chloe didn’t know the gruesome details of her family history. Not yet anyway. On the other hand, he had to explain his actions to Lily without ruining the delicate trust that had developed between them. He twisted the cap off the bottle. “I’m sorry I wasn’t completely up front with you. That day, I was too busy trying to process the fact that the house had been your childhood home. I didn’t think it appropriate to tell you my plans right then. Especially since you’ll now be a co-owner with Chloe.”
Her eyes widened. “I never thought of that.”
“Look, don’t worry about the house. If it’s God’s will, He’ll help me find a place when the time is right. That’s a few years off yet anyways.”
She took a sip of her tea, silent for several seconds, as if digesting his words. “How will you run a church and a shelter?”
He took her interest in his future plans as a positive sign. “I’m not sure. I may have to hire someone to manage it if I don’t have time to do both.”
She nodded. “I wish there’d been a decent shelter when I left home. Things might’ve been a lot different for me.”
The pain on her face swamped Nick with sympathy, and he fought the urge to move closer to her. “Where did you go when you left your father’s?”
Maybe she’d share some of her past with him, now that she trusted him more.
She shifted on the couch to set her tea on the side table. “At first I stayed with a friend from school until her older brother started making moves on me. By then, I was working at a donut shop, and the lady there let me rent a room from her. That didn’t last long either. She hated my boyfriend and wouldn’t let him come over.” She paused, and her gaze slid away.
He sensed her discomfort, but he needed to know all she’d been through in order to understand her better. “What did you do then?” He took a pull of water from the bottle.
She picked at her sleeve. “Danny had his own place, so I moved in with him.”
Nick clenched his jaw together, trying to hide his dismay at the thought of such a young girl having to choose between the streets and living with some low-life boyfriend. “I take it things didn’t work out,” he said carefully.
She shook her head, tucking a wisp of hair behind one ear. “Danny got involved with drugs. I ended up moving in with another guy I worked with. I thought Todd was a friend, but he wasn’t much better.” Her troubled gaze lit on his face for a second and then skittered away. “You sure you want to hear all this?”
A band tightened around Nick’s chest, and he squeezed the bottle in his hand. For both their sakes, he had to. “What happened next?”
She drew her knees up under her chin. With no makeup and her hair coming loose from the bun and falling softly around her face, she looked as innocent as a child.
“Todd got drunk one night, and when I wouldn’t do what he wanted”—a flush spread over her face—“he beat me up and threw me out.”
Nick’s free hand curled into a white-knuckled fist on his lap. The thought of anyone beating Lily made him want to forget his Christian beliefs and show the jerk just what it felt like to be a victim.
“I eventually got a better job at a tavern,” Lily continued. “The owner, Hank, was a decent guy. He made sure no one bothered me. The tips were great, and I was able to rent a small apartment. It wasn’t much, but at least it was mine.”
Nick’s own childhood seemed idyllic compared to this brave girl out in the world on her own, facing danger and depravity. “What changed?”
She shrugged, her eyes trained on the floor. “The usual. I got involved with another loser. I loaned Curtis money a few times, which he never repaid. Then one night he came over, spoiling for a fight. He wanted more money, but I didn’t have any since he’d already drained my account. So he got rough. Put a hole in the living room wall. The landlord freaked out and had me evicted.” The death grip of her hands clenched around her knees belied her matter-of-fact tone.
Nick couldn’t stay seated. He rose and paced to the other side of the small room. “What about your father? Did you ever go to him for help?”
Lily’s face hardened, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Once. But he refused. Called me a whore and told me never to come back again.”
“I’m so sorry,” Nick whispered. His heart wrenched with pain for her. Rejected by her father, she’d had no one in the world to trust or love. He longed to offer her comfort, but her body language screamed “do not touch.”
“No wonder you’re skeptical of religion. Sounds like your father has a twisted version.”
Lily pushed to her feet. “I don’t want to talk about my father.” She snatched up her cup and strode out to the kitchen.
His mood plummeted. He’d tried so hard to say the right thing, but he’d still upset her. He found her at the sink, rinsing the cup with shaking hands.
“Lily.” He moved toward her, fueled by a need to show her how much he cared. To make her understand she was no longer alone. He came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I hope you know how much I…we all…care about you. It can never make up for what you’ve been through, but…”
Her muscles stiffened beneath his palms. Then she pulled away and turned to face him. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Nick. Really I do. I’ve never had friends like you before.” She took another step back. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”
Nick straightened, feeling the sting of rejection but recognizing the cause. She simply wasn’t ready for anything more. The fear in her eyes told him that. “I understand,” he said at last. “Just know I’m here if you need anything.”
“Thank you. And thanks for the macaroni.”
“You’re welcome.” He force
d himself to resist the overwhelming urge to touch her cheek, to kiss away the sorrow on her face. “Take it easy, OK?”
She nodded, avoiding eye contact.
His soul heavy, he turned and left the apartment.
14
On the night of the next scheduled youth meeting, Lily arrived at the church hall early, hoping to catch Nick before the others arrived. Her footsteps echoed through the basement as she crossed the tiled floor of the eerie, empty room. The carefully wrapped package tucked under her arm weighed almost as heavily as her guilt over the way she’d treated Nick. Guilt that demanded restitution. The gift wasn’t much, but she hoped it would go a long way to soften her rejection.
Under a flickering florescent light, she debated whether to leave the package on the table or wait and give it to Nick another time.
“You’re early.”
She whirled around to find Nick in the doorway. He looked so wonderful in his jeans and sports jacket, his hair ruffled from the wind, that it hit her anew, like a physical ache, how much she’d missed him. “I wanted…I have something for you.”
“You do?” An expression of pleasant surprise crossed his features. He paused to set some papers on the front table and then came toward her.
Tentatively, she held out the package. “My small way of saying thank you for everything and to apologize for the way I acted the other day.”
He stared at her without moving. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” She pressed the gift into his hand. “I hope you like it.”
The hall seemed to shrink in size as she waited for him to open it. The overhead lights buzzed, breaking the silence. She’d never given away one of her paintings before, a gesture far too personal. Now, as she waited for his reaction, she felt naked and vulnerable.
He slid a finger under the wrapping, folded it back, and stared. Not a smile, not a frown, not a blink.
She stuffed her hands into her pockets to hide her nerves. When at last he raised his eyes to hers, the intensity of emotion there stalled her breath.
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