North Country Hero

by Lois Richer

  “I think I’ll like Rod.” Sara knew she’d like all of the boys. Kids were easy to love.

  “I’m not telling you about them because I expect you to get involved with their programs,” Laurel said.

  “Oh?” Sara frowned, confused.

  “I hired you to cook for us because I know how great you are at it.” Laurel leaned forward. “But I want you to be free to do other things.”

  “Like what?” Sara already had a to-do list. Finding her family was first.

  “Sara, you lost most of your childhood being a servant to the Masters. All the years you should have been a kid were spent making sure the other foster kids were okay.”

  “I had to do that,” Sara said simply.

  “You shouldn’t have had to,” her mentor insisted. “You’re twenty-two. Have you ever taken time to think about yourself?”

  “I managed.” Sara didn’t like to dwell on the past.

  “Oh, my dear, you managed wonderfully. But now you have this time in Churchill and I want it to be your time. I want you to enjoy your life, find new interests. Make new friends.” Laurel’s voice softened. “I want you to focus on your future.”

  Sara thought about Kyle, alone in his house with that awesome yard. Rod would be arriving tomorrow. The sprout of an idea pushed down roots in her mind. She tucked it away until she could consider it more thoroughly.

  “I will focus on my future. But I need you to do something for me, too, Laurel.” Sara paused to assemble her thoughts. “I know I’m going to love it here. But I will only stay till Christmas. By then I believe God will have shown me what he wants me to do with my future.”

  “Well…” Laurel inclined her head.

  “No, I mean it. I know myself, Laurel. I’ll love it here, I’ll get too comfortable and I’ll want to stay. But you must ignore that, even if I ask you not to. You have to find someone else to take over for me after Christmas. Promise?” She leaned forward, her gaze intent on Laurel.

  “If you insist,” Laurel finally agreed.

  “I do. I thought about this a lot while I was going to cooking school. Our minister said that in order to be the person God intends us to be, we must discover what He wants us to do.” She leaned back, smiled. “That’s what I am going to do while I’m here in Churchill. I’m going to search for God’s plan for my future. So you cannot let me talk you into my staying.”

  Laurel studied her for a long time before she nodded. “All right.”

  “Now, what kind of things should I do while I’m here?”

  “There’s a pool at the recreation center attached to the school. You could take swimming lessons,” Laurel told her. “Also, the school holds classes for anyone who wants to upgrade their education. You might want to look into that.”

  “Yes, I do.” Sara didn’t feel compelled to explain. Though the Masters had claimed Sara was homeschooled, Laurel had revealed their lies.

  Laurel understood how awkward and geeky Sara felt, how much she wanted to shed her “misfit” feelings and be like everyone else. That was why she read so much. But sometimes it wasn’t enough to just read about something. Her reaction to Kyle was a prime example. Nothing she’d read had prepared her for the instant empathy she felt for him.

  “I’ll pray that God will reveal His plans to you, Sara, so you’ll be able to figure out what He wants for your future.”

  Sara already knew what she wanted in her future. She wanted her family reunited.

  “Could I take computer classes?” Sara asked.

  “Why not? You’ll probably have to wait till fall for the new sessions, though. We’ll phone and check tomorrow. I’ll pray that God will reveal His plans to you so you’ll be able to figure out what you want for your future.” Laurel drew her into a hug.

  She already knew what she wanted; she wanted her family reunited. But she closed her eyes and let her spirit revel in Laurel’s embrace. Somehow that triggered thoughts of Kyle. Hugs were new to her, but he was used to them. He’d had parents who loved him and showed it. She’d seen it in the photos on his kitchen wall. He came from a tight-knit happy family.

  “I’m going to bed now,” Laurel said, releasing her. “You must be tired after that long train trip.”

  “Oh, no. Riding on that train was like being rocked to sleep.” Sara could remember being rocked. Barely.

  Laurel kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, sweetie.”

  “Goodnight, Laurel.” Sara followed her, stepped into the room Laurel had given her earlier and gazed around. Her room. Space that belonged to her and her alone.

  For now she had a home, just like Kyle.

  Sara marveled at how far she’d come today. She loved Churchill from the moment she’d stepped off the train. Rough and wild, but brutally honest. Everyone seemed friendly—except for Kyle. An image of him sitting in his kitchen—exhaustion, agony and utter loss etched on his face—filled her thoughts. Sara could excuse his brusqueness because he’d been hurting, body and soul.

  What she couldn’t excuse was the way she’d stared at him so admiringly.

  “Stop thinking about him,” she scolded herself. “This isn’t a fairy tale. He’s a wounded veteran who lost his father. He’s none of your business.”

  To dislodge Kyle’s face from her mind, Sara curled onto the window seat, seeking the rolling ribbons of northern lights her book had talked about. But Laurel said the approach of summer meant it would stay light well into the night, that Sara wouldn’t see the lights for months.

  The northern lights, learning the computer—it seemed as though everything had to wait till fall. But she would only be here till Christmas. Would she find her family by then?

  She had to. As soon as possible.

  Reading had always been her escape as well as her education, but Sara now knew book knowledge wasn’t the same as actually living and experiencing. She was short on experience. That was why she always felt as if she was a step behind everyone else. But she would catch up; she would learn about love and families and all the things other people took for granted.

  She tugged the papers from her pocket and began to fill them out. Tomorrow she’d visit Kyle, not only to discuss the idea she’d had earlier to help Rod, but because she didn’t want to wait until fall to learn how to use a computer. Maybe she could persuade Kyle to do an exchange—she’d clean his house or maybe cook him something and he’d teach her how to use a computer to search for her family.

  Because her family was out there. Somewhere. Sara just had to find them. Then she would finally have somebody who loved her, somebody she could love back. She’d have the circle of love Kyle had always known to support her in doing whatever God asked of her.

  “Please help me.” The prayer slipped from Sara’s lips as she peered into the growing gloom. “Please?”

  Chapter Three

  “Thank you.” Kyle paid the delivery boy, hefted the box of groceries onto the counter and closed the door. “Finally,” he muttered.

  He grabbed the tin of coffee, opened it and started a fresh pot of brew. While he waited impatiently he unpacked the rest, bumping into several pieces of furniture in the crowded room as he stored his supplies.

  It wasn’t long before exhaustion dragged at him, caused by staying up too late to open the cards and letters full of sympathy from those who’d known his dad. Kyle turned, swayed and grabbed the back of a kitchen chair to keep from toppling over. He needed to sit, and fast. But first he poured himself a cup of too-strong coffee.

  “Better,” he groaned, savoring the rich taste. “Much better.” But not as good as the coffee Sara had made him.

  Kyle pushed that thought away.

  The prosthesis ground against his skin—his “stump,” he corrected mentally. There weren’t enough calluses to protect the still-raw tissue, even after almost three months. He sank onto a chair, rolled up his pant leg and undid the brace that held the prosthesis in place. The relief was immediate. He reveled in it as he sat there, sipping his coffee. Unbidden
, memories of the day he’d been injured filled his thoughts. To distract himself, he booted up his dad’s laptop and checked his email.

  A tap on the window drew Kyle’s attention. Sara Kane stood watching him. He waited to see the revulsion his fiancée hadn’t been able to hide. He searched for the disgust and loathing that had swum through her eyes when she’d seen his damaged limb. But Kyle couldn’t find it in Sara’s dark scrutiny and wondered why.

  What could he do but wave her in? While she entered, he closed the computer and set it on his dad’s desk.

  “Good morning. I brought you some cinnamon buns.” Her gaze moved from the computer to him. She closed the door behind her and set a pan on the table. Her gaze held his. “You didn’t answer the doorbell.”

  “It’s been broken since we moved in here. Dad was always going to fix it but—” Kyle realized he was rubbing his leg and quickly dragged his hand away. He was about to pull down his pant leg when she spoke.

  “I could help you,” she whispered. “If you want help.”

  “I don’t.” Stop acting like a bear, Kyle. “Thank you but I’ll be fine, Sara.” He didn’t want her here, didn’t want her to see his ugliness. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Her solemn gaze locked with his but she said nothing.

  “How did you get here?” He clenched his jaw against a leg cramp then gulped another mouthful of coffee, hoping that would help clear his fuzzy head.

  “Laurel. She had to stop in town before picking up the boys from the airport. I wanted to ask you something so I told her I’d walk over here from the post office.”

  Kyle watched as Sara filled the kettle with water and switched it on. A moment later she’d found a basin under the sink and added a towel from the bathroom.

  “What are you doing?” Kyle demanded through gritted teeth as waves of pain rolled in. He’d refused to take any pain reliever last night, knowing he had to learn to manage it or risk becoming addicted. And he couldn’t afford that. He couldn’t afford to become dependent on anyone or anything.

  “Hot water will ease your soreness.” Sara kept right on assembling things.

  “Are you a nurse?” Kyle clamped his jaw together more tightly. Couldn’t she see he wanted to be alone?

  “If I say yes, will you let me help you?” she asked in a soft tone.

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so.” A flicker of a smile played with the corner of her lips but Sara kept right on working.

  The woman had guts, Kyle admitted grudgingly as she added cold water to the basin, tossed in a handful of salt and set it on the floor in front of him. Because he craved relief, he didn’t object when she poured boiling water from the kettle into the basin. Steam billowed up as she knelt in front of him. She dunked the towel, thoroughly soaked it then wrung it out. A moment later she wrapped the steaming towel around his stump and held it there, her hands gentle but confident.

  Kyle almost groaned before he flinched away. No one outside the hospital staff had ever touched that ruined, angry part of him.

  “Is it too hot?” She waggled her fingers in the water and frowned. “It doesn’t feel too hot.”

  Actually it felt a lot like a warm hug.

  “Kyle?”

  He studied the top of her caramel-toned head. Somehow Sara’s tender touch eased his yearning to be enveloped in his father’s arms, something he’d craved during his intensive rehab and the weeks of therapy that followed.

  “Kyle?” His name rushed from her lips, urgent. “Is it okay?” Her eyes were wide with—fear?

  Why would she be afraid?

  “It’s fine,” he groaned.

  Liar. It is light years better than fine.

  “I’m glad.” A sweet smile lit up her entire face.

  In the quietness of that moment Kyle couldn’t help but compare Sara’s response to the decimating reaction of the woman who’d claimed to love him. When she’d glimpsed his shattered limb in the veteran’s hospital she had turned away and raced out, never to return.

  Clearly, as he’d noticed several times, Sara was made of stronger stuff. His curiosity about her rose.

  But Kyle didn’t ask questions because the longer Sara’s calm gaze held his, the more his muscles relaxed. She rinsed the cloth three times, each time reapplying and holding it in place until it cooled. Finally the knot of pain untied and slid away. He sighed his relief.

  “The water’s too cool now,” Sara murmured. “I could heat more?”

  “No. Thank you.” Kyle felt half-bemused as he realized his whole body felt limp, as it had when he’d come out of the anesthetic after each of his surgeries. “Where did you learn to do that?” His curiosity about the strength in such a delicate-looking woman grew.

  “My fos—brother used to get banged up. Hot saltwater cloths always helped him.”

  Sara’s slight hesitation before she’d said brother and the way she stumbled over banged up intrigued Kyle. What story lay hidden beneath those few words?

  “It’s a great remedy.” The way she’d knelt in front of him to care for him humbled Kyle. “Thank you,” he said, and meant it.

  “You’re welcome.” She rose in one fluid motion and glanced at the pan of rolls she’d left sitting on the table.

  His father’s favorite line from Milton’s Paradise Lost flickered through Kyle’s mind. “Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eyes, in every gesture dignity and love.” He’d never known anyone but his mom who’d so perfectly fit the description.

  Until now.

  “I’ll just slip these buns into the oven to warm. You can rest for a while, then, when you’re ready to eat, they’ll be waiting.” Sara tightened the foil around the container and placed it inside the oven.

  It struck Kyle then that he was doing what he’d vowed not to. He was letting someone do things for him. He was letting himself become dependent.

  “What did you want to ask me?” The question was perfunctory. He didn’t want to hear. What he really wanted was for this disturbing woman to leave him alone.

  Sara took her time dumping the basin, washing it out and storing it.

  “Come on. I can’t be that unapproachable,” he prodded with a smile.

  “Yes, you can.” Sara looked straight at him, unsmiling. “But I’ll ask anyway. I want to use something of yours.”

  “Use something—of mine?” That sounded as if she’d made it up on the spur of the moment. Maybe she was only here because she felt sorry for him. Kyle’s gut burned. “Like what?”

  “That.” She pointed out the grimy window that overlooked his backyard.

  Kyle followed her pointing finger. He couldn’t figure out what she meant at first. There was nothing in the backyard. Except—

  “I’d like permission to use your greenhouse, Kyle,” she said.

  “My mom’s greenhouse.” Past memories, very personal memories, of the joys he shared inside that greenhouse built inside his head but he suppressed them. Kyle was suddenly irrationally annoyed at the way Sara kept pushing her way into his world. All he wanted was to be alone. “What could you possibly want that for?”

  “Last night Laurel told me some of the boys’ histories so I’d understand why they’re at Lives.” She sat down. A tiny line furrowed her brow as she studied her hands. “I’m not sure I’m allowed to discuss them.”

  “I’ll keep whatever you want to tell me confidential,” Kyle promised, curiosity mounting.

  “Laurel says one of the boys is quite withdrawn. Rod.” She peeked through her lashes at him. “But he did very well when he was involved in a program at a tree nursery.”

  Kyle waited, surprised by her earnest tone.

  “Of course, there aren’t any tree nurseries here in Churchill,” Sara said, “but I thought that if he could get involved in growing something, it might help. We don’t have the capability at Lives. But I remembered seeing your greenhouse when we were here yesterday. If Rod could grow fresh herbs, I could use them in my cooking. Laurel said we�
�d share whatever we grew with you.” Her silver-gray eyes never left his face. “If you agree to let us use the greenhouse, that is.”

  “I see.” Kyle studied the glass structure. “The roof might not be stable, you know. I’d have to have it checked, maybe repaired.”

  A disappointed look flickered across her face. “You’re saying no?”

  “I’m saying I don’t know.” Kyle didn’t want to reveal any sign of weakness, and having her see his injured leg made him feel weak, so he strapped on his prosthesis, rolled down his pant leg then slid his feet into a pair of his father’s moccasins. “Let’s go out and take a look.”

  “Okay.” Sara pulled on the thin jacket she’d shed when she first came inside.

  “You’ll freeze if that’s all you have to wear until summer gets here,” he warned.

  Sara chuckled, her smile brimming with something he couldn’t quite define. All Kyle knew was that little seemed to faze this woman. A twinkle in those gorgeous eyes told him she’d faced much worse than cold weather, and come out on top.

  “I’ll be fine, Kyle.”

  He had a strong feeling that Sara Kane would be fine, though he couldn’t have said why. Perhaps it was the resolute determination in her manner. Sara Kane wouldn’t give up easily. He admired that.

  “Open that cupboard. There should be a jacket in there, a red one.” He didn’t tell her the coat was special. He simply watched as she drew out his mother’s red parka. “Try it on.”

  Sara shrugged into the coat. Her transformation was spectacular. A bird of paradise—she looked magnificent, delicate and incongruous in this land of icy winds and frozen tundra. The color lent life to her, enhancing subtle undertones in her hair and making her skin glow with a beauty Kyle had almost missed.

  “I don’t think any of our guests ever looked as good as you in that.”

  “Your guests?” She pulled the faux-fur collar around her ears and studied herself in the mirror, seemingly bemused by what she saw.

  “Dad and I ran a guiding company,” he told her. “There are gloves in the pockets, I think.”