by Lois Richer
“Good night, PBX.” A sly smile lit his face.
“Pardon?” Jesse couldn’t figure out what the letters meant, but the boy wore a smug look. “What’s a PBX?”
“Peanut butter expert.” Noah grinned when Jesse laughed. Then he suddenly looked worried. “Is it okay?”
“It’s an excellent nickname. Thank you, Ark Man. Sleep well.”
Noah nodded, snuggled his head against the pillow and closed his eyes.
Jesse followed Maddie to the living room and sat in the chair she indicated, still chuckling.
“PBX. What a kid.” He caught her studying him. “By the way, if his quilt is an example of what you can create with mere fabric,” he said, “I’m in awe. Forget learning to cook. Your work is spectacular.”
“Thank you.” She actually blushed at the compliment. “It couldn’t be bright and colorful, so I did the next best thing. Noah seems to like it.”
“Why couldn’t it be bright?” Jesse was curious about her response. “Are colors against Noah’s rules?”
“No.” She gave him a quick glance, then shifted her gaze to somewhere beyond his shoulder. “Noah is autistic. Too many bright colors or vivid patterns create heightened stimulation and that stresses him. So I tried to make his room calm but still attractive, a place where he can rest, concentrate, be at peace.”
“Looks to me like you succeeded. With him, too. He’s a great kid.”
“Thank you.” Maddie twiddled her fingers together, then looked directly at him. “I guess you know a lot about kids, having been a youth pastor.”
“I don’t know as much as I should,” Jesse said bitterly, his joy in Noah’s excitement evaporating. If he was going to hang with her son, Maddie deserved to know the truth. “One of the kids in my group committed suicide and I’m to blame.”
“Why?” Her soft question wasn’t perfunctory. She leaned forward, her eyes wide with interest, as she waited for his response.
“Because I couldn’t stop him.” How it hurt to admit that.
“I don’t understand.” Maddie frowned. “Were you there at the time?”
“No. Scott was at home, in his room, when he took an overdose of pills.” Jesse gave the details clearly and concisely, his guilt burgeoning with each word. “His parents found him in the morning, lifelessly clutching a note that said he was being bullied and wanted to make it stop.” Waves of self-recrimination returned.
“Oh, no.” Her whisper of empathy helped him continue.
“I was Scott’s friend as well as his youth pastor. I saw him at least three times a week. I took him for a soda that very afternoon.” He shook his head. “Why didn’t I know? Why didn’t I see something?”
“I’m so sorry, Jesse.” Maddie’s sympathy brought him back to the present.
“Thanks. I had to tell you.”
“You did?” Her green gaze widened. “Why?”
“In case you don’t want me to be around Noah.” To his utter shock and dismay, Maddie began to laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“You.” She shook her head. “Jesse, do you have any idea how I’ve longed for my son to break free of his autism long enough to find joy in kid things?”
He shook his head.
“Only since he was diagnosed, when he was three,” she told him, her tone fierce. “Tonight, for the first time in eons, I watched Noah become engaged and interested, really interested, in something.”
“It was just candy.”
“Just candy?” Maddie chuckled. “Noah doesn’t eat candy. Ever. He only talks about candy, repeatedly reciting his father’s rule about its unhealthiness. Tonight, somehow, you got him to not only make candy but eat it and enjoy it. That’s huge.”
“I’m glad if he did.” Jesse grinned. “Even if it wasn’t triangles.”
“He has a thing about triangles. But that isn’t all you did.” Maddie’s lashes were suddenly wet as a tear rolled down her cheek. When she looked at him, deep love for her precious boy lay vulnerably revealed. “You talked to him, not at him. You treated him as if he’s normal kid.”
“Well, he is. Isn’t he?” Jesse frowned at her.
“Noah has...issues other kids don’t have. He’s very reclusive. He doesn’t interact easily and yet tonight you discovered interests in him that I never even imagined. Nicknames. Camping.” She shook her head, a rueful look on her face. “How could I not have known Noah was interested in camping? Liam was right. Sometimes I am just plain dumb.”
“Liam being...?” Jesse had to ask, though he was pretty sure he already knew who this denigrating person was.
“Liam was my husband. That’s his picture by Noah’s bed.” A rueful smile lifted the edges of her lips. “You probably wonder how I could have married a man so much older than me.”
That question along with a hundred more about this amazing woman had burned through his brain, but Jesse remained silent, letting her speak on her own terms.
“Everyone wants to know that and the answer is...” she paused, her face tightening “...escape. You told me about your past, so I’ll share some of mine.” She took a deep breath. “My father was abusive when he got drunk. I spent my childhood and youth avoiding him, hiding out at a friend’s, keeping his secret, trying to finish my studies so I could graduate and leave.”
“But you should have—”
“Told someone?” A half smile that held no mirth lifted her lips. “I did once and paid for it dearly. I knew that if I told again, I would only get hurt that much more. I wasn’t that stupid,” she added, almost defiantly.
“So Liam came along,” Jesse murmured, knowing exactly where this was going.
“He stopped by initially to invite my father to his church, and then he just kept coming back. I could tell he was interested in me, but I never took it seriously. I didn’t know anything about men. I was so naive.” She looked embarrassed and...ashamed? “One day my dad came home in a foul mood. He’d lost his job and he was drunk. Very drunk. And I was his punching bag.”
Anger burned inside Jesse for the girl she’d been, alone, unprotected and unloved. But he held his tongue, letting her vent, because he’d learned the abused often needed to verbalize their pain.
“I endured as long as I could, but later, when he zonked out, I saw my chance and I ran away. I was huddled on a park bench when Liam found me. He bought me some new clothes to replace my torn ones, fed me and then he proposed.” Again that unamused smile. “He was my way out and I grabbed at the chance.”
“That was the night you got the scar.” Jesse didn’t need to see her nod or the way she lifted her hand to touch the puckered skin to know the truth. “I don’t blame you for seizing the opportunity.”
He hesitated. He’d vowed not to get personally involved again, but he couldn’t just up and leave her like this, stuck in what sounded like a miserable past.
“It wasn’t a good marriage,” Maddie whispered, her voice forlorn. “I didn’t know anything about being a wife, let alone a pastor’s wife. I couldn’t cook and the child I bore was what Liam called defective. My fault. I was a failure.”
“How could Noah’s autism possibly be your fault?” Jesse demanded. “And he is not defective,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“Thank you for saying that.” She offered him the saddest of smiles. “To be fair, my husband was much older and not used to children. Noah had colic. He cried a lot and that got on Liam’s nerves. I guess that’s why he stopped asking me to be involved in the church, and left me to tend our son. As Noah got older and other problems emerged, Liam decided the way to control Noah’s outbursts was to instill in him a set of unbreakable rules.”
“Ah,” Jesse said, understanding. “Noah learned he could please his father if he obeyed all the rules.”
“Exactly.” Maddie grew thoughtful. �
�I’m not exactly sure why, but now Liam’s gone and Noah still clings to those rules, even though his dad is no longer here to approve. I’m trying to break his reliance on them by showing him that rules are only a guide.”
“And that maybe some of those rules are wrong?” Jesse added very quietly.
“Yes.” She lifted her head and thrust out her chin. “That’s why what you did for him tonight is so amazing. Jesse, I have never seen Noah so eager about anything. I’d really appreciate it if you could take him to see your campsite. I don’t want to inconvenience you, but if he’s truly interested in camping, perhaps I can find a way to build on that.”
“I don’t know exactly how long I’ll be in Tucson.” Jesse was cautious, aware that it would be all too easy to get involved with this pretty mom and her needy child. “But I’ll certainly show him my campsite and cook him some s’mores, as I promised.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” She grinned cheekily. “Emma was right about you. You really are something.” Then she sobered. “May I speak plainly?”
“Of course.” He wondered what was coming.
“I want—in fact, I crave—your help with Noah. But I don’t want there to be any mistakes between us to spoil things.”
“Okay.” Where was this going?
“Please be clear that I am not looking for anything more, Jesse.”
“Pardon?” He watched her face flush and her hands knot as she said it, but Maddie’s intense gaze held his.
“I’m not looking for a husband or a father for my son. I was not a good wife. I did not love my husband the right way. I was a failure and one mistake was more than enough.” Maddie paused, then offered, “I’m not interested in romance. But I surely could use a friend.”
“You’ve got one.” Relieved, Jesse relaxed. “I feel the same. My fiancée recently dumped me. It’s been painful to discover that the woman I thought I’d love forever was not the person I believed her to be, and that I wasn’t the one she really wanted. She preferred my best friend. I still feel stupid, and I sure don’t want to go through that again, you know?”
He gulped, then expelled a rush of relief when Maddie nodded in understanding.
“I don’t think I’m meant to be anyone’s mate.” Jesse figured he might as well be blunt. “But friendship is something I think we could share. To help Noah.” He held out his hand. “So hello, friend Maddie.”
“Hello, friend Jesse.” Her slim fingers slid into his and gripped with a firmness he hadn’t expected. “Whatever I can help you with, just ask.”
“A recommendation to Wranglers Ranch?” he suggested, as he drew his hand away, surprised that the warmth of her gentle touch lingered on his skin.
Maddie smiled, picked up the phone and dialed.
“Tanner, this is Maddie. We’re good, thanks. How’s baby Carter?” She chuckled at the response. “Poor you. Call me to babysit anytime. Listen, Tanner, I have a friend who’s looking for a job. I think he’d be perfect for Wranglers Ranch. His name is Jesse. He’s Emma’s grandson... Okay, I will. Bye.” She ended the call. “Stop by Wranglers anytime tomorrow.”
Jesse’s jaw dropped. “Just like that?”
“I told you there were advantages to living next door to Tanner and Sophie.”
“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it.
“You’re welcome.” When she checked her watch Jesse took that as his cue to leave.
“I should go. Thank you for a fun evening, Maddie. I enjoyed myself.” He rose and walked to the door, aware of her slight figure padding barefoot behind him. He pushed open the screen door and caught his breath.
The desert beyond lay in darkness save for an array of solar lights.
“It looks like someone painted a giant stained-glass butterfly.” He turned to look at her. “You?”
Maddie nodded, a satisfied smile tipping up her rosy lips.
“How?” Jesse couldn’t imagine the hours it must have taken to place each lamp just so in order to create this intricate design.
“I used a quilt pattern. Noah helped me get the wings right.” Her green eyes peered into the distance but Jesse was fairly certain she wasn’t staring at the lights because after a moment she said in a whisper-soft voice, “I dreamed of creating it a long time ago.” Her gaze slid to study him. “Maybe this is the year for my dreams to come true. First we moved to my ranch, then my butterfly became reality and now you’re here helping Noah.”
My ranch. My butterfly. Something about the way she said it got Jesse pondering what other dreams this woman held tucked deep inside.
“Will you be able to find your way to your campsite from here?”
Maddie looked so concerned that he hurried to remind her that he and his parents had once lived in Tucson.
“I’m glad you came back, Jesse.”
“So am I.” He walked toward his truck and was about to climb in when her quiet call stopped him.
“Jesse?”
“Yes?” He paused and peered toward her slim figure, saw her hands grip the balustrade as she tilted forward.
“Thank you very much.” The soft words brimmed with intensity.
He waved, then got into his truck and drove away, wondering why he knew that quiet expression of gratitude came from her heart.
Maddie McGregor was a puzzle. She seemed young and innocent, and yet was apparently the product of a miserable childhood and a wretched marriage. Gutsy but somehow vulnerable. Nightshade and sunshine. She had a home taken straight from the pages of a magazine, but apart from a couple of quilts tossed over the sofa, it looked too neat to be truly lived in. In fact, aside from her quilts, there wasn’t much in that house that said anything about Maddie McGregor.
That whimsical butterfly, however, said a lot. And that intrigued him.
When Gran came home Jesse intended to spend an evening plying her with questions about his new friend.
But as he lay in his tent, he had to remind himself to stop thinking about sweet Maddie McGregor.
You can’t get involved. Nobody else gets hurt, remember?
Chapter Three
“Jesse.” Tanner Johns shook his hand heartily. “You’re Maddie’s friend.”
Relief suffused Jesse. After the fiasco in his Colorado church there hadn’t been many who’d wanted to call him friend.
“And you’re Emma’s grandson.” Tanner grinned. “Welcome to Wranglers Ranch.”
“Thanks.” A little taken aback by the warmth of his greeting, Jesse figured the cowboy must not know about his past. Tanner’s next words disproved that.
“I was really sorry to hear about the death of that boy in your youth group.” His voice dropped. “It’s so hard to know what goes on inside a kid’s head. Thank God He knows.”
“Yeah.” Jesse gulped. He knew, so why didn’t He stop Scott?
“So you’re taking a break from your ministry.” Obviously unaware of Jesse’s revolving faith questions, Tanner tilted back on his boot heels, his voice thoughtful. “Sometimes it’s good to reassess if you’re where God wants you.”
“I guess Gran told you—” He stopped because Tanner was shaking his head.
“When it comes to kids’ work I keep my ear to the ground so I can pray for all of us who are working with these precious souls.” He grinned. “A friend of mine told me about your program in Colorado. Said you did amazing work. When he heard you’d resigned, he emailed me, ordered me to offer you a job if you happened by the area to visit Emma.”
“That’s kind of him,” Jesse murmured.
“He’s a man I trust, but he’s not the only one singing your praises. Your grandmother has lots of stories about you, too. One day I’d like to see all those rodeo trophies you’ve collected, cowboy.” Tanner chuckled at his grimace. “Okay, I’ll drop it. Don’t want t
o make you blush.”
“Thanks,” Jesse said with relief.
“Come on. I’ll show you around.” As they walked, Tanner explained that the focus of Wranglers was to reach kids through acceptance. “The man who owned this ranch, Burt, led me to God here, and many after me. His dream was for Wranglers Ranch to become a sanctuary, a kind of camp for kids. When he passed away he left this spread to me to make his dream come true. I started working with street kids because I was one once and I knew the impact this place could have. God’s kind of expanded my puny efforts. Now we host church groups, kids from social agencies, kids involved with the justice system, kids who just stop by to see what’s going on and sick kids, to name a few.”
“Wow.” Jesse was awed by such an expansive ministry.
“We use equine-assisted learning programs,” Tanner explained. “We try hard to reach every kid for God, but, like you, we do lose some. Not every kid who comes to Wranglers Ranch is ready or willing to turn his life around.”
“All we can do is shed some light on the path,” Jesse agreed. “They have to choose it.”
“That’s why my friend was so impressed with your work. He said you made sure your kids understood what making the choice to be a child of God entails.” Tanner then pointed out the horses in the paddocks, the land that stretched to the Catalina Mountains and the hands whom he credited for keeping his ranch functioning. “Wranglers Ranch is all about spreading the love of God. We use every resource we have to do that.”
That simple explanation of such a far-reaching ministry sent Jesse’s admiration for this man soaring and upped his desire to be part of it, a small part, anyway. But how to do it without getting personally involved?
“My friend said you have your degree in counseling.” Tanner lifted one eyebrow.
“I went to college before I attended seminary,” Jesse said.
“Actually, you started college on the expedited track when you were fourteen,” Tanner corrected, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth. “And left several years later with your master’s degree in counseling.”
