A Gift to Cherish (Road to Refuge Book 2)

by Victoria Bylin

  Rafe saw an opportunity and took it. “That’s another thing. She’s a strong Christian. That’s my background, but I’m not sure what I think about God.”

  “You’ll need to figure that out.” Dr. Susan paused for a sip of water. “The geography problem is just that—geography. Your religious beliefs are foundational.”

  “Yeah. I figured. My brother’s a Christian. Living with him has been . . . interesting.” He’d already told Dr. Susan about Jesse’s recovery from addiction. “As much as I hate to admit it, he has it together these days—not that I’m competitive or anything.”

  Rafe grinned at his joke and so did Dr. Susan. At this point, she knew him well. They confirmed next week’s appointment, said good-bye, and ended the call. Rafe snagged his key fob and strode out the door.

  With a little luck, he could steal a minute with Daisy before he showed up at Heritage House. She was probably at her desk right now, and he didn’t think Miss Joan would mind if he stopped by. The older woman occasionally chatted with him at the worksite and seemed to like him.

  The Camaro ate up the asphalt until Rafe turned down the long driveway to the ranch. An approaching sedan caught his eye and he slowed. Through the tinted windshield he made out Daisy in the driver’s seat, with Miss Joan riding shotgun. So no joy on that quick hello. Instead he beeped the horn and waved. Daisy honked back and sped by.

  It was just as well. Rafe needed to get to work, though Ben knew he’d be late and why. As for the rest of the crew, they didn’t know the reason and didn’t need to know. Rafe routinely joined them for breakfast because Ben and Jesse insisted on it, but no one bantered with him, not even Drake, the guy Rafe had rescued from shoveling manure.

  Expecting the usual cold shoulders, he climbed out of his car, strapped on his tool belt, and walked toward the wooden skeleton of the two-story building. When he didn’t spot Ben, he stepped onto the subflooring and headed toward a roughed-out staircase. Ben was probably on the second floor.

  A snort caught Rafe’s ear. “You’re late, Donovan. Glad you could finally make it.”

  Rafe looked over his shoulder and saw Howie, the Willie Nelson lookalike, lined up with Drake in front of two-by-fours laid out on the floor to make an interior wall.

  Rafe answered with a shrug. “I cleared it with Ben.”

  One side of Howie’s mouth hooked into a sneer. The scarred side stayed flat, maybe from nerve damage. “Must be nice.”

  “What?”

  “Being the boss’s baby brother. Coming in late because you need your beauty rest.”

  Drake glowered at Howie. “Shut up, you idiot.”

  “Why should I?” Howie hooked his thumbs on a sagging tool belt as leathery as his face. “I got dragged in an hour early because we’re two days behind, and Munchkin here slept in.”

  “Munchkin?” Rafe broke out in a chuckle, knowing full well it would annoy Howie even more. “That’s a new one.”

  “If the little shoe fits, wear it.”

  Rafe aimed a finger at his work boot. “Size thirteen. There’s nothing small about my feet—or anything else.”

  Howie lunged at him. Rafe had been expecting it, so he sidestepped. The man spun to face him, worked up a mouthful of spit, and let it fly. The glob landed on the toe of Rafe’s boot.

  His temper flared, but Howie’s insults were nothing compared to the hostility he dealt with as a cop. Slinging insults would only make him sound like a brat, but he couldn’t let Howie have the last word or he’d be called Munchkin for weeks. There was only one thing to do, and that was lower his shields like Captain Kirk in the Star Trek movie he’d watched last night.

  Rafe stared at the spit to be sure Howie knew he saw it, then he relaxed his shoulders and shrugged. “I see a shrink. We’re working through a mild case of PTSD.” Rafe added mild out of respect for men and women far more troubled than himself, not out of shame.

  Howie’s bushy eyebrows collided, then his jaw dropped and he snorted. Finally he laughed without a hint of meanness. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So are you a vet?”

  “No. This is personal, but it’s affecting my job. I don’t talk about it.”

  “Fine by me.” Howie smirked, but the crooked smile seemed more relaxed. “So what do you know? SuperCop has problems like the rest of us.”

  For a nickname, SuperCop beat Munchkin by a mile.

  Drake stood taller behind Howie, nodded to Rafe, then scowled at them both. “Would you two quit yakking? I have plans tonight, and they don’t include hammering nails with you two idiots.”

  Howie laughed, then shot an insult back at Drake. Grinning, Rafe climbed the stairs and found Ben, who sent him to work alone on the back staircase.

  Two hours later, Ben called the lunch break. Drake and Howie walked over to Rafe.

  “Come on, SuperCop,” Howie called out. “Take a break. You’re making us look bad.”

  Rafe hid a grin. He’d been planning to skip lunch because of his late arrival. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Drake waved him over. “Hurry up.”

  Rafe set down the hammer, walked with the two men to the picnic table, and sat. For the first time since lunch with Daisy, he didn’t eat alone.

  Late that afternoon, when Ben called it a day, Rafe was relaxed, tired, and eager to tell Daisy the Munchkin story. He went home to Jesse’s house, showered, then called her. “So what’s up?” he asked.

  “Not a lot.” Her voice sparkled over the phone. “Shane and MJ went grocery shopping. Chelsea’s on date number two with Chad, and I’m watching the kids. Cody’s upstairs, and Hannah and I are playing Barbies.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Oh, it is! Barbie owns a big unicorn ranch.” Daisy’s voice took on a teasing tone, maybe a dare. “Want to come over?”

  Rafe laughed. “Do I have to be Ken?”

  “No, you can be Star. He’s a blue unicorn with a rainbow tail.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” He lowered his voice. “I had a good day. I want to tell you about it.”

  “I’d like that.”

  When Rafe arrived at MJ’s house, Cody trotted downstairs and the Barbie-Unicorn game expanded to include Avenger action figures. Rafe took charge of Captain America, Cody chose Thor, and the game morphed into an adventure fit for a Hollywood movie.

  When Shane and MJ returned with bags of groceries, the Barbie game ended. Hannah and Cody picked up the toys, and MJ offered to put the kids to bed. She was rounding them up when Chelsea walked in from her FriendsFirst date. She saw Rafe and Daisy and greeted them without a lot of chatter.

  “So how was it?” Daisy asked.

  “Really nice.” Chelsea’s voice came out low and slow. “We have a lot in common, and he loves kids. Maybe the four of us can go out sometime? I’d love for you to meet him.”

  Daisy glanced at Rafe, her brows arched into question marks.

  “Sure.” He liked the idea. If Daisy was going to play wing-girl for Chelsea, he wanted to be her copilot. “Just let me know when.”

  “I’ll ask Chad,” Chelsea replied. “Maybe next week? I have to check my work schedule, plus I need to get ready for the move.”

  Daisy turned to him, a twinkle in her eyes. “You’re already signed up to help. What do you think? Is it too soon to recruit Chad?”

  “Probably. Helping a woman move falls under the ‘getting serious’ category.”

  Daisy’s eyes widened, and he realized what he’d just revealed. He was serious about her.

  Chelsea broke in with a loud laugh. “In that case, it’s too soon. I don’t want to scare him off!”

  The three of them chuckled, though Rafe didn’t think the joke was that funny. “Don’t worry about it. Shane and I have it covered.” Jesse had offered to help, but they didn’t need him—only his truck.

  Chelsea excused herself to go upstairs. Rafe needed to call it a night, but he wanted a few minutes al
one with Daisy. Before he could speak, she reached for his hand and guided him toward the front door. “Let’s sit on the porch. I want to hear about your day.”

  She opened the front door, turned off the porchlight, and they sat next to each other on the top step. He put his arm around her, and she leaned into him. They sat that way, half hugging, while he told her about the Munchkin incident and eating lunch with the crew.

  “I had a good day.” He tucked her tight against his side. “Topped off with tonight.”

  “Barbies and unicorns?” Daisy laughed. “I bet that was a first.”

  “It was, but don’t forget Captain America. He saved the day.”

  A pleasant silence settled until Daisy broke it. “You’re eager to go back to being a cop, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I am.” He debated how much to say. It was too soon to talk as if they had a future together, but the possibility intrigued him.

  Daisy finally spoke. “A day at a time, right?”

  “Sounds good to me.” He brushed a kiss on top of her head. But what did a day at a time really mean? How did a marble take comfort in living a day at a time when all it did was roll around and bounce off the walls? Suddenly the night seemed darker, lonelier, empty except for Daisy warm against his side. His foot tapped in a slow, frustrated cadence.

  She pulled away and looked at him, her face lined with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “You tensed up. I felt it.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Did I say something wrong?” Her voice wobbled, a little like Hannah when her Barbie fled from the Avenger villains.

  “No.” He tucked her tight against his side. “It’s not you at all. I’m just—I don’t know. A little confused right now.”

  “About what?”

  Great. He was digging an even deeper hole. “It has nothing to do with you—or us.” Or maybe it did, because if there was an us, it affected Rafe’s I.

  Daisy looked up at him, her eyes wide and bright even in the dark. “Is there an us?”

  “We’re finding out, right?”

  “Yes,” she murmured. “Since there’s an us, I need to tell you about my ex and what happened to me.”

  Relief flooded through him. He far preferred listening to Daisy than talking about himself. “I want to hear it—everything—or at least what you want to tell me.”

  “Let’s go with everything. When I’m finished, you might think I’m nuts and go running back to Cincinnati.”

  He doubted it but played along. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is it crazier than Barbie having a unicorn farm?”

  “I’ll let you decide.” She scooted a few inches away, pressed her knees together, and laced her hands in her lap. “My ex beat me up pretty badly, but that’s not the end of the story. It’s not the beginning, either. The beginning goes back to something that happened when I was fourteen—in a garage with some boys.”

  He knew where this was going—a naïve girl desperate for love, acceptance, caring of any sort; boys full of hormones, charged up by movies and video games, confused about manhood; no adults around, no one to teach and protect. No father in the home, or a weak one who failed to model honor and respect.

  As he expected, Daisy told him an ugly tale of sexual abuse, followed by her attempt to escape into booze, relationships, anything that let her hide from the pain. He asked an occasional question, but mostly he listened. By the time she told him about the brutal assault by her ex—how he had stalked her, attacked her, and left her unconscious on the sidewalk—Rafe’s arm was around her shoulders, cradling her as he pressed his lips to her temple.

  He murmured into her ear. “Please tell me he’s in prison for life, because if he’s not—”

  “He’s locked up for twelve years, barring parole. I’m safe here. But that’s not the best part of the story—or the real ending.”

  “Jail works for me.” The longer, the better in Rafe’s opinion. “What he did to you—”

  “Was evil.” Daisy slipped another inch away. “But as bad as it was, I’m grateful. Not for the awfulness of it—no one likes hitting bottom or being assaulted or hurting in any way—but the hurting brought me to Lyn. She’s amazing and kind—and—” Daisy laughed a little. “I’m babbling, because we’re about to get to those purple unicorns.”

  “I’m confused.”

  She fluffed her short hair. “This used to be halfway down my back. But the skull fracture required emergency surgery. Afterward, in the ICU, my heart stopped. They did CPR twice, shocked me back to life, but my heart stopped again. Shane signed the DNR, and everyone thought I was gone. But then something amazing happened.”

  Rafe waited for more, but Daisy remained silent as a tear trickled down her cheek. “I—I can’t begin to describe what I saw. What I heard. You know the stories about people who die and come back? Who see amazing things? It’s true. I was a Christian before all that happened. But I came out of the hospital even more sure that Jesus is real—and he loves us.”

  “That’s—” He shook his head. Purple unicorns were easy to handle. No one really believed in them. But God? That was different. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I know people explain those experiences as chemicals released by the brain under stress, but it was so real—every bit as real as sitting next to you now.” She took a deep breath. “So, do you think I’m nuts?”

  “Not at all.” His chin lifted to the dark sky, dragging his gaze to the slice of silver moon surrounded by stars. When it came to talking about God, Rafe didn’t have a lot to say. He understood the basics of Christianity thanks to his grandfather, now deceased. They had prayed together when Rafe visited his farm in central Ohio. Christmas trees, Easter baskets, and saying grace on Thanksgiving were all part of his background, but churches were mostly for weddings and funerals—particularly Kara’s funeral, where phrases like she’s in a better place or she’s home now had eroded what little faith he possessed to a nub.

  Daisy rested a hand on his knee. He didn’t realize he was tapping his foot until it stilled. She waited until he looked at her, then she wrinkled her nose in a cute way that broke the tension. “You think I’m crazy, right? It’s okay if you do. Sometimes I think I’m crazy.”

  He shoulder-bumped her to keep the mood light. “I don’t think you’re crazy at all. What you experienced was real to you.”

  “Yes, it was.” She shoulder-bumped him back but stayed close. “You can tell me to mind my own business, but I’m curious. Are you a Christian?”

  Short and sweetly honest—that was Daisy. But Rafe didn’t have an easy answer. “Mostly. I believe God exists, and my mom used to read Bible stories to me. I don’t go to church or anything, but living with Jesse makes me wonder.”

  “About what?”

  He gave a faint laugh. “Pretty much everything. I guess I’m somewhere between that song by U2 about not finding what I’m looking for, and Jesse. I admire how he turned his life around.”

  “He’s one of the good guys. So is Shane.” Daisy gave a small laugh of her own. “But I have to be honest. I hated God because of how Shane preached at me. He was so obnoxious. I won’t do that to you. I promise. But my faith defines me. I won’t hide it, either.”

  “I don’t want you to hide anything from me, Daisy. No secrets, okay?”

  “No secrets,” she agreed.

  They sat another moment, relaxed and snuggled together. He needed to leave, but his feet refused to move. Being with Daisy calmed him. He didn’t fully understand her faith, but being around her was like breathing in an exotic fragrance. There was something there, something real and detectable, yet not concrete.

  Visions of purple unicorns dared him to ponder God in a new way. A good way at first, but then a shiver went through him. Believing in God had turned Jesse’s life upside down—or right side up. Either way, the changes had been earthshaking. If Rafe dared to make a deeper commitmen
t, would it shake up his life the same way? He didn’t know, and the thought scared him. Sometimes it was safer, easier, not to ask questions.

  Daisy stood and offered her hand. He took it and felt her lifting him up. It had been a long strange day, one full of surprises, but when she raised her face for a kiss, he knew exactly what to do.

  Chapter 17

  Don’t long for “the good old days.” This is not wise.

  Ecclesiastes 7:10 (NLT)

  Friday afternoons were often a lonely time for Joan, and this one troubled her more than most. Seated at her desk with Sadie dozing at her feet, she tried to concentrate on the next chapter of the ranch history book, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the three hundred emails flooding her inbox.

  News of the giveaway had gone viral, and as she’d feared, pleas for help were unrelenting. The number of them depressed her. It also made her angry, though she wasn’t quite sure who to be angry with. Society in general for failing to care for the poor? Individuals for making poor choices? At God for giving human beings free will and the ability to choose badly—with her own bad choices at the top of that list?

  Yet her choices—both good and bad—served a purpose. If she hadn’t failed herself so profoundly, she wouldn’t be a Christian today. Giving away her home wasn’t an act of madness like some people thought. It was a gift of her heart in response to the ultimate gift from the ultimate Giver.

  Good grief. Now she sounded like Billy Graham.

  Sadie sat up and stared, her dark eyes shiny and her tongue lolling to the side of her gray muzzle. Joan rubbed the dog’s big head in both hands, commiserated with her about growing old, and wished she could turn back time to when Sadie romped in the grass.

  “Now I’m being maudlin,” she complained to her dog. “Let’s chase away this bad mood with a snack.”

  Sadie’s ears pricked up at the word. In a blink the dog was on her feet and swishing her tail. Joan led the way into the hall and Sadie followed, her nails clicking on the hardwood floor. Those nails needed trimming, so Joan approached Daisy’s office, intending to ask her to schedule a vet appointment.