A Gift to Cherish (Road to Refuge Book 2)

by Victoria Bylin

  “No.” Lyn faced Miss Joan. “You’re being realistic. Life is full of compromises—for men and women alike. Family versus career. His career versus her career.”

  “Exactly!” Joan agreed.

  “Finding that balance isn’t easy.” Lyn turned to Daisy. “Sometimes we have to give up one dream for another, or put the first dream off for a while. But this is where trusting God comes in, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Daisy breathed a little easier. She didn’t need to worry about the future; her job was simply to trust and follow God.

  Miss Joan said she agreed about leaving the future in God’s hands, then she fussed about her bad knee acting up and asked Daisy to fetch carrots from the barn.

  Daisy walked away, leaving Lyn and Miss Joan to amble toward the paddock. When she reached the barn door, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the two women talking to each other. Miss Joan drew back, then nodded slowly with a solemn look Daisy couldn’t interpret. Were they talking about Rafe again? Or maybe Miss Joan was fussing about the arthritis in her knees, how it acted up when the barometric pressure dropped. The storm in the west was moving fast. No rain yet, but Daisy could smell it coming.

  She hurried into the barn and went to the stall where carrots were stored in buckets of sand to keep them from getting moldy. Before lifting one of the containers, she silently asked God to bless all the possibilities for Maggie’s Rescue Ranch. Excitement flooded through her as she walked back to the paddock, the heavy bucket dragging on her arm.

  Miss Joan and Lyn turned to her at the same time, then traded an odd look. Jug was already pawing the ground in anticipation, so Daisy headed for the fence.

  Two steps from the railing, Miss Joan laid a hand on her arm and stopped her. “Daisy, Lyn and I need to speak to you.”

  “More advice about Rafe?” Daisy grinned at the thought of them playing fairy godmother.

  “No, dear. It’s not about Rafe.” Miss Joan’s fingers stiffened on Daisy’s arm. “We’ve reached a decision about Maggie’s House.”

  Daisy’s heart shot into her throat. She waited for more, but no one said a word. Her gaze darted between them until it settled on Lyn. Compassion glistened in her eyes the way it had nine months ago when Daisy first walked into Mary’s Closet, wearing sunglasses to hide her black eye.

  “I’m sorry, Daisy,” Lyn said. “But Cottonwood Acres isn’t a good fit for Maggie’s House. I’m withdrawing the proposal.”

  The bucket tumbled out of Daisy’s grasp, spilling carrots and sand onto the sparse grass. “But why? It’s perfect. I know it is!” She stared hard at Lyn.

  “I know you had high hopes. So did I. But the ranch is just too big for our housing model.”

  “It can work—it can!” Why hadn’t she spoken to Lyn sooner? Why had she assumed Lyn would see the same possibilities? “Give me a chance to change your mind.”

  Lyn shook her head. “Daisy, I—”

  “Please?” No way could she let her dream slip away without a fight. “I was going to talk to you at dinner tonight, but I can talk now. In fact, I can show you. Watch—” Daisy dropped to a crouch, picked up as many carrots as her hands could hold, dumped them into the bucket, and carried it to the fence.

  Jug shouldered the two smaller horses out of the way, and Daisy fed him a twisted carrot. “Imagine the women at Maggie’s Rescue Ranch caring for these horses and a dozen more. Everyone needs something to love, right? The rescue program provides a perfect opportunity.”

  She waved a carrot at Comet, who came forward and took the treat like the lady she was. “I love the idea of restarting the horse rescue, and even expanding it to other animals. Heritage House will be open to the public, so it’ll need a staff. That’ll give our residents solid work experience.”

  An overly patient sigh leaked from Lyn’s lips. “You know our policy on privacy. Heritage House will be open to the public. It’s too close to the living quarters for both privacy and security concerns.”

  Daisy had already considered the situation. “It’s not ideal, but we can put a security gate at the front entrance. Overall, Heritage House is a plus. It’ll need management, maintenance, plus bookkeeping and ordering if we include a souvenir shop. There won’t be a lot of traffic—just occasional tourists. It would function like Mary’s Closet—a place for women to work and learn new skills. There’s a lot to do on a ranch. We could offer training in other areas, as well.”

  Lyn’s gaze shifted to Miss Joan. Daisy needed an ally, badly. But Miss Joan’s lips remained sealed tight.

  Fine. Daisy could stand on her own. More determined than ever, she fed the biggest carrot to Zippy, because he was the smallest horse. “Maggie’s Rescue Ranch needs to happen. I believe it, and I’m determined to make it work.”

  Lyn remained silent, and so did Miss Joan. Thunder rolled faintly in the distance. The hint of rain thickened the air, and the wind picked up. Jug stomped his foot, demanding another carrot. Unable to bear his frustration, Daisy fed him a big one, hoping and praying for a reprieve from Lyn.

  Miss Joan picked up a carrot for Zippy and stood next to Daisy. “I’m sorry, dear. But I have to agree with Lyn. As I understand Maggie’s House, the organization would be better served by several smaller residences, perhaps located throughout the nation.”

  “Exactly.” Lyn joined them at the fence, selected a carrot, and offered it to Comet. “We want our residences to feel like home, not a college dorm, or worse, an institution.”

  Daisy stepped back, shocked and a little offended. “An institution! I wouldn’t let that happen!”

  “You can’t change human nature.” Lyn reached to give Comet another bite, but Jug shouldered the mare out of the way and tried to steal the carrot in Lyn’s hand.

  “Jug!” Miss Joan scolded him. “You’re being a pig!” The carrots were gone, so she waved her arms to shoo the horses away.

  Daisy watched them amble off, slowly, their heads down and swaying as they sniffed for grass. She opened her mouth to make a final plea to Lyn, but words evaded her. Ideas turned to dust. So did hope. Her face hardened into a dam holding back tears. “So it’s settled.”

  “Yes,” Lyn replied. “But Joan and I would like to talk to you about another possibility.”

  Daisy thought of the glances they’d shared. They’d been plotting behind her back, talking about her. That was natural, since they were all friends. But to leave her out of the most important conversation of the day? To treat her like a child—to dismiss her ideas without hearing them? It hurt. Terribly. And it made her angry—and scared. A sob threatened to escape from her throat, but she swallowed hard.

  Despite her trembling lips, she lifted her chin as professionally as she could. “What possibility?”

  “A job offer.”

  “Where?” She held out her hands and looked around—at nothing. Which was the point.

  Lyn, benevolent as always, ignored the gesture. “The board for Maggie’s House approved the purchase of five new residences located outside of Los Angeles. Refuge is too small, but we’re considering several other cities, including Denver. If you’re interested in joining the ministry, we’d love to have you.”

  Daisy gaped at her. “Denver is five hundred miles from here.”

  “We’re considering other locations, too. Chicago. Las Vegas. Houston. And a city somewhere along the I-75 corridor. Do you know where that is?”

  “Not exactly, and I really don’t care.”

  “Daisy?” Miss Joan waited until Daisy looked up. “You know I keep up on issues concerning women.”

  “Yes.”

  “Interstate 75 runs from Florida all the way to Michigan. It’s one of the busiest drug and human trafficking routes in this country. It also goes straight through Ohio—and Cincinnati.”

  “Cincinna . . .” The word died on her lips. Rafe’s home. But a city where she’d be anxious and uneasy, scared all the time, lost on streets with strange names. She hated the idea.

  She needed to lea
ve—now—before her face crumpled and she burst into tears. But she couldn’t find her tongue to make an excuse. Lyn stood in her way, her expression kind as always—and devastatingly hopeful.

  Daisy could only shake her head. “I’m—I’m—”

  Lyn’s expression softened even more. “We know you don’t have a formal commitment to Rafe, but if you want to join the Maggie’s House staff, you do have options. We thought Ohio—”

  “Stop!” Daisy’s hands flew to her cheeks. “I can’t do this now. I can’t!”

  Lyn reached out to hug her, but Daisy spun away with her pulse pounding in her ears. She hunched her shoulders against the wind coming off the pasture, but she couldn’t escape the loamy scent of rain. Thick tears pressed behind her eyes. One leaked out, then another.

  Lyn tried again. “Daisy—”

  “No!”

  The dam snapped, cracked, and finally shattered. Tears gushed from Daisy’s eyes, and she ran as if being chased by Eric. Her feet stumbled on ruts. Stray rocks caused her to lurch. She couldn’t think—couldn’t do anything but run.

  Chapter 23

  “Donovan! Get down here now.” Ben’s voice boomed through Heritage House, up the stairs, and down the hall where Rafe and some of the crew were putting up drywall.

  Howie snickered at him. “Sounds like someone’s in trouble.”

  “Hey, I’m innocent.” Rafe handed the taping tool to Drake, then shouted down to Ben. “On my way, sir.”

  He couldn’t think of a single reason the foreman would summon him so urgently, unless it had something to do with the storm raging outside. When thunder cracked again, Rafe thought of Daisy touring the ranch with Lyn and Miss Joan. Throughout the afternoon, she had sent short texts and smileys, but he hadn’t heard from her in almost two hours.

  When he reached the landing in the middle of the staircase, he saw Ben at the bottom, waiting for him with the look of a man who had delivered bad news before.

  Bad news . . . Jesse . . . Accidents happened on construction sites. Had Jesse fallen off a ladder? Misjudged a saw blade? Crashed his truck? Rafe had seen his share of bloody messes. Steeling himself, he jogged down the last of the stairs. “What happened?”

  Ben clamped his hand on Rafe’s shoulder. With the other, he handed Rafe the Donovan Construction cell phone. “Miss Joan wants to talk to you.”

  “Me? But why?”

  “Daisy’s missing—”

  “Missing?”

  “Miss Joan will explain. Cliff’s bringing a truck for you to use.” Ben gave his shoulder another hard-fisted squeeze, then walked away, leaving Rafe with the phone.

  Schooling his emotions, he raised the phone to his ear. “Donovan here.”

  “Rafe. Good.” Miss Joan’s breath gusted over the connection. “Daisy’s missing. We need you to find her.”

  Worry coursed through him, but professionalism tempered his reaction even as a crack of thunder shook the unfinished building. The more he knew, the better. “What happened?”

  Miss Joan told him about the decision regarding Maggie’s House. “Daisy took it hard. We thought she’d gone into the barn to collect herself, so we waited before we looked for her. That—that was a mistake.”

  “I’ll find her.” Striding toward the door, he unhooked his tool belt with one hand and left it by the door, not caring if someone picked it up or not. “How long has she been missing?”

  “About half an hour. Lyn and I searched the barn. She’s not there. I don’t—” The words broke into disjointed syllables. “Maybe—check the—could you—” More static.

  “Miss Joan! Can you hear me?”

  “Yes. Can you hear me?”

  “For now.” The line cleared enough for Rafe to make out the details as he waited in the doorway for Cliff to arrive with the truck. Ana had already checked Daisy’s office and the parking lot. Her car was still there.

  Miss Joan’s voice shook even more. “I—I’ve never seen her like that—shattered—in pieces.”

  His heart clenched at the thought of Daisy breaking down so completely. She needed a friend. She needed him. “Do you have any idea where she could have gone?”

  “All I know is that she’s on foot.”

  Cliff arrived with the pickup truck, jumped out in the pouring rain, but left the engine running. Rafe strode forward, shielding the phone at his ear with his hand as he passed Cliff with a nod. Water trickled down his neck, but he didn’t care.

  “I’ll start looking,” he told Miss Joan. “Where are you now?”

  “At the house.”

  “Call me if she shows up. I’m going to check the barn again, then the bunkhouse.”

  “Yes—” Lightning flashed and the phone went dead.

  Rafe climbed into the truck, dropped the phone on the passenger’s seat, and sped to the barn.

  He’d grown up in the Ohio Valley. He knew what to do when lightning split the sky and wind ripped at trees. Daisy was a California girl. She knew about earthquakes and brush fires—not wind and rain. Had she fled into the meadow to be alone? With lightning bolts forking from clouds to the ground, would she know to find a low spot and stay down?

  Considering her state of mind, she could be anywhere. Search and Rescue 101—don’t overlook the obvious. Miss Joan said she searched the barn, but Rafe needed to check for himself. He pulled up to the open door, climbed out, and saw a ranch hand leading a skittish Comet into her stall. Jug and Zippy were already secured, though both appeared nervous.

  Rafe called out from across the barn. “I’m looking for Miss Joan’s assistant—”

  “Daisy, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I haven’t seen her, but some of the guys are looking down by the maintenance yard.” The cowhand closed the gate on Comet. “I’m done here. Want some help?”

  “Not yet.” An all-out search would require some planning. “Just keep your eyes open. If you see anything, call Miss Joan.”

  “Will do.”

  Rafe took three precious minutes to check the tack room, the office Cliff sometimes used, and each empty stall. Turning, he spotted a tall ladder leading to the hayloft. With his neck hairs prickling, he climbed the rungs hard and fast, calling to her softly as he stepped into the gloom and took in the hay bales stacked in the middle of the floor. There was no sign of Daisy and no place to hide.

  He hurried down the ladder, climbed back in the truck, but didn’t drive away. Instead he peered into the rain, putting himself in her shoes—distraught, shattered, maybe afraid. Would she run or hide?

  “Where are you, Daisy?” he asked out loud.

  If he didn’t find her in the next fifteen minutes, he’d call Miss Joan and suggest an official search—but only as a last resort. A search would turn Daisy’s private loss into a public spectacle, something she’d find embarrassing.

  He drove slowly away from the barn, his head swiveling to the right and left. When he reached the Y in the road that split toward the bunkhouse, his intuition caught fire. The low building in the distance offered shelter, privacy, and a safe place to hide.

  Rafe unrolled the side windows so he could see into the trees and bushes as he drove. The truck swayed with the force of the wind. His foot moved to punch the gas, but his training kicked in and he maintained a constant speed, checking both sides of the road in case Daisy had stumbled and twisted an ankle.

  “Daisy!” he shouted. “Daisy! Can you hear me?”

  Lightning split the sky, and out of habit he counted the seconds in his head. Before he reached two, thunder cracked and echoed like a rifle shot. Rain soaked his arm through the open window, but he didn’t care as he steered toward the bunkhouse. Heavy rain turned it into a blur, but on the covered porch, through the railing, he spotted a smear of bright blue and Daisy’s blond head.

  She was sitting down, knees to her chest, huddled against a closed door with her neck bent and eyes down. She appeared to be unharmed, though she resembled a rag doll, tossed aside and left in a heap.
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  If she heard the truck over the pounding rain, she didn’t look up. Rafe snagged the phone and called Miss Joan.

  “Rafe! Did you find her?”

  “She’s at the bunkhouse.”

  “Is she hurt?”

  “I don’t think so. I just got here. I’ll let you know if she needs anything.”

  “Thank you, Rafe. What she needs most right now is a friend.”

  “I’m here.”

  He ended the call and tossed the phone in the console, parked close to the building, and climbed out in the storm, the rain drenching his shirt as he jogged up the three stairs that put him at Daisy’s feet. She stayed curled in a ball, leaning against a door, not looking up, though he suspected she’d peeked through her fingers and spotted him in the truck.

  He dropped to a crouch but didn’t touch her out of fear she’d pull more tightly into herself. “Hey, Daize. I hear you got some bad news. I’m sorry.”

  She peeked at him from over her knees. “Thanks for looking for me, but I don’t want company right now. I have to work this out on my own.”

  “Work what out?”

  “Everything. The future . . . what Lyn said about Ci—” She sucked in a breath and held it, but a squeak leaked from her throat. “I’m sorry, Rafe. But you’re making it harder. Please. Go away.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Please. This isn’t the time—”

  “The time for what?”

  Frowning and angry, she glared at him through the sheen of watery tears. “I can’t talk about it. Not now. And not with you. Please—just go.” She sealed her lips so tightly they trembled.

  Rafe had seen Daisy afraid when he changed the flat tire; he’d seen her happy playing with Barbie dolls, floating down the river, and eating a Blizzard. They had shared jokes, a quarrel over Chelsea and Chad, and the best kisses of his life. He knew this woman, but he’d never seen her like this—seemingly calm yet trembling; both shattered and angry; and, most confusing of all, dead-set on cutting him off.