“Well, I just wanted to stop by and say hello.” He looked around the kitchen with a nostalgic smile. “This home has a fond place in my memories.” He looked back at Becky. “Next time you see your grandmother, say hello from me.”
“Why don’t you stop by her place later and say hello yourself?” Becky asked. “She lives in town. I can give you her address.”
Colson hesitated, and Becky went to the desk in the kitchen in that moment, grabbed a sticky note and wrote Diene’s phone number and address on it.
“I don’t know if I’ll have time, but thanks anyway. I’m only staying long enough to make arrangements to get Rick transferred to a hospital in Toronto where I can keep a better eye on him.”
Becky’s heart plunged. Toronto? Rick?
It was as if her father’s words still hung in the air, so soon did Colson’s pronouncement come after them.
“Well, I’d better get going. I have a lot to arrange.” Then he said goodbye and left. Becky watched him walk slowly down the walk to the waiting cab, her heart skittering.
Rick couldn’t go. Not yet. Dear Lord, not yet.
Awareness crept over him, tingling, as he slowly rose out of the black again. The pain had dulled but it still hovered, waiting for the wrong move.
He opened his eyes. Turned his head.
Pain flashed through his head, stabbed his eye. Wrong move.
“Hey, there.”
A soft, familiar voice drew his attention up. Becky stood above him, her hands resting on the bed rail, her smile hesitant.
He tried to smile back, but his lips were too dry and cracked.
“Do you want a drink?”
He nodded, and then she was slipping a bent straw between his dry lips. He sucked the moisture in and winced at even so slight a movement.
“Just sleep, Rick. You need your rest.”
“No. I slept enough.” He forced his eyes open. Forced himself to concentrate on her face. So pretty. “What happened?”
“You hit a deer on the highway.” Becky fussed with the sheets across his chest, smoothing them down. In spite of his pain, the motions comforted him.
“My Jeep?”
“Sorry, Rick. It’s totaled.”
He didn’t care. He chanced a movement and lifted his right hand and grasped Becky’s. “Thanks for being here.”
She squeezed ever so gently and covered his hand with her other one.
“How long—” He stopped as a fresh wave of pain washed over him. Becky misinterpreted his grimace and lowered his hand to his side. But he shook his head and tightened his grip on her hand. “Don’t let go. Please.”
“You’ve been in the hospital for two days now.”
Shock pushed him up into awareness and pain followed, biting and sharp. “That long?” Vague snatches of memory drifted through his mind.
He remembered forcing his eyes open for seconds at a time. Seeing Becky standing beside him. Sitting. Sleeping in the chair. Her head on the bed beside him. Always there.
He moved his head again, surprised to see various bouquets of flowers lining the windowsill of his room. “Where did those come from?”
“The staff of the magazine, people from church. My family. Terra DeWindt from the café. Our minister. They all came to visit you.”
He frowned, then remembered other voices. People coming and going. “Why would they do that?”
“Because that’s what people do in this town.” Becky walked over to a large fruit basket. “And these came from your grandfather. He was here this morning, but he said you were still out of it.”
Rick just stared at the huge arrangement, wrapped up in cellophane, topped with a red bow.
“I can open it for you,” Becky said.
Rick shook his head, trying to understand. “Were you here when he came?”
Becky fussed with the bow, her agitated movements making the cellophane rustle. “He stopped by the house this morning. He asked me to call him when you were lucid. But I wanted to tell you first.”
Rick remembered another hospital at another time in his life. He was fifteen and getting his appendix out after a vicious attack at the boarding school. His only visitors were two friends who had skipped school to come and see him. His grandfather had been conspicuously absent.
As he took in the flowers, the cards, melancholy unfurled through his pain. “I’m surprised he bothered to take time out of his busy schedule to come.”
“You’re his grandson, Rick.”
“That only seems to have occurred to him in the past few years.” Rick couldn’t keep the bitter note out of his voice. A reflection of the relationship, or lack of it, that he had with Colson Ethier.
“He seemed sad.”
He caught the fleeting glimpse of sorrow in Becky’s features, but then she was smiling at him. “So how does that happen?” he asked, nodding his chin at the flowers, changing the subject. “I’ve made enemies at the paper, enemies in the community.”
“Not enemies, Rick. Just people who didn’t agree with you. At first.”
“And at second?”
“You’ve been right, as well.”
“That must hurt to admit.”
“You don’t know how much.” Becky’s smile slipped past her serious expression and he felt again the pernicious tug of attraction. The edges of his mind grew fuzzy again. He fought it. Becky was here and he wanted to talk to her. To make up for something he knew was wrong between them.
“You’ve been here before. I remember.”
“Yes, I have.” Then to his surprise she gently feathered her fingers over his forehead, brushing his hair back. He sighed at her touch, his memory of the events before the accident scribbling past the sensations he felt.
“We had a fight, didn’t we?”
She only nodded, biting her lip. A tear traced a slight silvery track down her cheek. “I’m sorry, Rick. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
He swallowed and closed his eyes again, his thoughts blurring. He fought it. “I shouldn’t have…” He couldn’t remember what he shouldn’t have. Only that a sense of wrongdoing on his part poked through the vague memories of that night. “I want to make things right.”
“It doesn’t matter, Rick. Don’t worry about it.”
Disquiet gnawed at him, and he tried to lift his head. “Please tell me.”
Becky laid her hand on his head. “I will. Later.”
He glanced around, still feeling uneasy. Vulnerable. Two days ago he’d been walking around in charge. Now he lay immobile in a hospital bed, pain trumping thought.
Then he saw the Bible lying on his bedside and he thought of the voices he’d heard. “Can you read to me, Becky? Please? From the Bible?” He wanted to hear her voice reading the same verses he remembered his mother reading to him. “From Psalm Twenty-three.”
He heard the faint rustling of pages. Becky cleared her throat and he glanced sidelong at her image, blurred by the swelling in his eye. The muted light softened her features, lit her hair with a warm glow.
“‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…’” she read quietly, her voice soothing, evoking images of care and love. And as she read, a gentle peace stole over him. He reached out to her and without looking up, she took his hand.
When the Psalm was done, she set the Bible aside.
Then to his surprise, she got up and brushed her lips across his forehead. “I have to go now, but I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Don’t cancel anything for me, Becky.”
She smiled down at him. “I’ve canceled everything for you.” And without another word, she turned and left.
“I checked with the nurse.” Gladys Hemple set a plate of assorted squares on Rick’s bedside table. “She said it was okay that you have these.” Gladys smiled down at Rick’s slightly stunned expression. “I love baking, you know. I miss my column—” she gave a light shrug “—but you know, it was time I did something else. I was thinking about that cookbook idea you gave me. I think
I’m going to spend some time on that. Never had a chance to with the column and all.”
“That’s great. I think it could be a bestseller.” Rick smiled his most beguiling smile. Becky almost laughed at the effect Rick’s full-wattage grin had on Gladys, in spite of the swelling over his one eye, the bruising on the side of his face. Not that Becky was immune. It was good to see him smiling again. Good to see him sitting up in a chair.
Even though it meant that he would be ready to be moved.
No. Don’t think about that. He’s still here.
Gladys sighed, her hand fluttering over the region of her heart as she returned Rick’s smile. “Well, then, I’d better be going. You take care, Rick. Look forward to seeing you up and about again.” Gladys gave Rick another quick smile, then left.
“You gotta watch how you hand out the charm, Rick,” Dennis Ellison said, pushing himself away from the windowsill. “I thought we were going to have to get the crash cart for the old girl.”
“Dennis,” Cora said, glancing toward the doorway, “you be quiet now. What if she heard?”
“I’m sure she’s still floating down the hall,” Dennis said with a laugh.
“We better get going down that hall, too.” Cora pulled Becky to her side and laid a quick kiss on her cheek. “Don’t stay too long, now. Colson is coming again tonight.”
Chill fingers of dread feathered down Becky’s spine. Was this the last time she would be seeing Rick? Was he leaving now?
She put on a smile for her mother. “I’ll be along in a bit.”
Cora looked over at Rick. “You take care, too, son. We’re praying for you.”
“Thank you for that.” Rick’s smile for Becky’s mother held a different quality. Almost melancholy. “And thanks for coming.”
“We have to,” Leanne said, with a knowing look at her sister. “It’s the only way we’ve gotten to see Becky the past few days.”
“Don’t stay too long.” Sam echoed Cora’s words, resting his hand lightly on Becky’s shoulder. “You need your rest, too.” He kissed her, as well, then left.
Becky stretched the kinks out of her back. She had taken some papers along in the faint hope that she could catch up on work, but between people stopping by regularly and her waiting constantly for Rick to tell her when he was going to be leaving, she got precisely nothing done.
“That was nice your parents came,” Rick murmured, still smiling.
“Like you’ve said before, I’ve been blessed with a loving family.”
“God has been good to you.”
Surprise flitted through her at his mention of God. But knowing that his grandfather was coming tonight spurred her to boldness. This might be the last chance she would have to talk to him about his faith.
About how she felt.
She pushed that thought aside as unworthy. She was being selfish. Rick’s spiritual well-being was far more important than her feelings for him.
“Last night, you wanted me to read a Psalm to you.” Becky set her papers aside. “Why?”
She heard his slow indrawn breath, but didn’t look at him, afraid her own feelings would be seen clearly on her face. She had to focus. To keep herself free.
“I remember my mother reading it to me when I was a little boy. She always told me that whenever I was alone, I just needed to remember that God was always with me.” He sighed. “I tried to find Him but haven’t been able to. At least not until lately.”
Becky looked up at that. Held his steady gaze. “Why is that?”
“Because of you, Becky.”
Time fell away as Becky felt suspended in the moment. She didn’t want to breathe. To think. To do anything to break the wonder.
“You’ve shown me parts of God I didn’t think I’d ever see again. Your family gave me permission to ask questions I still don’t have answers for.”
“You’re not the first child of God to ask questions,” Becky said softly. “My father told me that the Bible is a record of God looking for His people. Going after us. God is in control of this fallen world and even evil, the evil you’ve seen, ends up serving His purpose.”
Rick’s grip on her hand tightened. “I’m starting to believe that, Becky. I’m starting to see it more and more.” He twisted his head to look at her. “I’ve accused you of keeping yourself too busy, but maybe God needed me to slow down, too. Maybe He put me here to show me that He cares in other ways.”
Becky smiled and lifted his hand to her cheek. “Many other ways, Rick,” she said softly. “So go ahead and ask your questions. I think God wants to hear them.”
“Your grandmother said the same thing. She’s a neat person.”
“Do you have many memories of your own grandmother?”
“I never knew her. She died shortly after my mother was born.”
“What about your mother?”
“I have a few memories. Good ones mostly. When I couldn’t sleep, I would sneak to her room. She would tell me stories. Sing to me. I often fell asleep in her bed.” A gentle smile curved his lips as his eyes took on a faraway look. “She was a loving mother.”
“How did she get along with your grandfather?”
Rick’s smile faded away and Becky regretted asking the question. “She tried to please him, but no matter what she did she couldn’t negate the huge mistake she had made by showing up on his doorstep unmarried and with a child. Grandfather never let her forget the shame she caused him. And of course, I was a constant reminder of that.” Rick’s light laugh was edged with bitterness. “So he shipped me off.”
“To boarding school.” Becky pulled her chair closer, inviting further confidences.
“A very good boarding school, mind you. After all, this was Colson Ethier and he did have his standards.”
“Did you see much of your grandfather?”
“On holidays. He’d give me the obligatory Christmas presents and he’d be around for Thanksgiving. But whenever I came home, he was entertaining other people. I spent more time with the housekeeper than with him.”
“Why would that be?” Becky remembered the sorrow in Colson Ethier’s voice when he stopped by her parents’ home. This didn’t fit with the picture Rick was giving her.
“I’m sure he was ashamed of me. My mother wasn’t married. She never did tell him who my father was.” Rick laid his head back against the chair. “He couldn’t figure out how to introduce me to his friends. I could tell he was incredibly awkward, so after a while, I stopped coming home for the holidays.”
Rick’s quiet monotone was meant to show Becky he didn’t care, but beneath his words she heard a lingering pain. Her own heart contracted, thinking of a young boy, alone at Christmas, that most family time of the year.
And suddenly she understood. “Is it because of your mother that you want to write about Jake Groot?”
Rick’s jaw tensed and Becky knew she had hit upon the reason for his anger. “My mother was just like that woman that he had so casually dumped and left behind. And I’m like the child he doesn’t know.” Rick looked up at her, his eyes narrowed. “I’m the other side of the story, Becky. The unhappy ending. The kid without a father, left alone.”
Becky’s heart tore in two. “Were you very lonely?”
Rick sighed and dropped his head back, as if holding the anger up was too tiring. “At the risk of sounding maudlin, I feel like I’ve been lonely most of my life.” Then he glanced at her and the harsh planes of his features softened, his lips parted in a gentle smile. “But I don’t feel that way now.”
Hope lent her heart wings and Becky gave in to an urge and cupped his face in her hand. She held his gaze, her thumb gently stroking his cheek as her heart contracted with an emotion stronger, deeper, wilder than pity. An emotion that burrowed into the depths of her soul, born of moments, thoughts, conversations.
I love him.
The words drifted up from behind and settled into her heart, bittersweet and edged with sorrow.
Rick anchored her hand w
ith his own against his cheek. “I’ve wasted a lot of time in my life, Becky. Running around. Looking in all the wrong places for the wrong things. Now, I’m not so sure what I want anymore. I just know it’s not what I had. The only trouble is I don’t know where to start now.”
Becky heard his words. His sadness. She ignored her own pain to help him. Guide him.
“You can start with the Lord. He’s been the only constant in your life even if you haven’t always acknowledged Him.”
Rick’s smile was melancholy. “You really believe that?”
“God is a father who doesn’t forget you. He’s numbered the hairs on your head.” Becky reached past him and took the Bible off his bedside stand, pleased to see pieces of paper sticking out in various places. She turned to Psalm 139 and started reading. “‘O Lord, You have searched me and You know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; You perceive my thoughts from afar…’” She read on, gaining her strength and conviction from what she read. “‘…If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast…’” She looked up to see Rick’s reaction. He had laid his head down on the back of the chair, his eyes closed. When she stopped, he frowned and she continued on to the end.
“See, Rick, nothing can escape God’s thoughts or concerns,” she said softly, closing the Bible. “Not time or place or person.”
Quiet pressed between them and Becky wisely said no more. Rick had to be convinced on his own.
“I read an interesting piece last night,” Rick said finally. “Job asking God questions. Then God spoke to Job out of the whirlwind and threw a few questions of His own around. Made me realize what a puny creature I am. How unworthy I am.” His laugh was a soft sound clean of his usual irony. “You’ve helped me back, Becky. You’ve given me more than I can ever tell you.” Rick tried to reach up to touch her, then winced in pain. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Don’t say that, Rick. We deserve nothing. Everything we have is a gift. I’m not better, but I am connected to a source stronger and deeper than me.”
“Like a tree planted by the stream. The minister spoke on Psalm One the last time I was in church.” He held her gaze, his own expression serious and Becky felt as if she were getting pulled into the very essence of him.
A Place in Her Heart Page 18