by Lois Richer
“What makes you think I don’t sleep much?” He smiled when she reminded him that he’d beaten her to work this morning. “You’re right. I don’t. Too much nervous energy, I guess.”
He hadn’t looked energetic at all, but Cassidy had little time to dwell on his words as Ty quickly turned the conversation.
“Why do you want Irina Markovich in the kitchen?”
“Red mentioned she needed a job. I need the help.” She shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s been beaten,” he told her.
“You think Red did it?”
“No.” His blue eyes sought hers, held them until she broke the stare.
“Red told me her mother drank.”
“Uh-huh. Did you see Irina’s reaction when I touched her arm?” He leaned back but kept watching her. “There’s something else going on there, Cassidy. Watch yourself.”
“Red and Irina aren’t going to hurt me,” she scoffed.
“I didn’t say they would.” Ty sipped his tea and watched her, his gaze mesmeric. “You think you know this neighborhood because you used to live here, but it isn’t the same place as it was. Things change. People change.”
“I’m not naive. I take precautions. I’ve had to.” Don’t talk about the past. “Some of the places I’ve lived weren’t great. But I won’t live in fear just because there are bad people around. I’ve already wasted enough time living like that.” She clamped her lips closed, refusing to expose any more of her battered soul.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m not trying to run your life. I’m just—worried.”
“That surprises me,” she admitted, flicking her fingers over the handmade afghan her last boss had given her. “I never took you for the worrying type.”
Ty’s eyebrows lifted. “What type did you take me for?”
“You’re always talking about God to Jack.” Cassidy shrugged. “I didn’t think Christians were supposed to worry.”
“Touché.” The corners of his lips lifted, but he was not amused.
“So?” She waited for an explanation.
“I guess I worry more since Gail died.”
Cassidy knew that wasn’t all of it, but she also sensed that Ty needed to say more. So she sat quietly and waited.
“It’s not that I don’t trust God to handle things, I do. It’s just that—her death was so unexpected. I felt like I lost control of things. Like the world was spinning wildly around me and I couldn’t find anything to grab on to. I still feel like that sometimes. I guess my faith isn’t as strong as it should be.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been taking care of myself for quite a while.” Without his or God’s help.
Ty studied her, a funny look washing over his features.
“And you don’t want me messing up your system?”
“I think you’ve got enough on your plate with Jack and the Haven.” She leaned forward. “He’s a good kid, Ty, but if you feel your world’s spinning, he must certainly feel the same, don’t you think?”
“Of course. But I don’t want his grounding to come courtesy of Red and her gang.”
“You said your sister spent a lot of time here. Did Jack ever come with her and help out?” She waited for his nod. “Then I’m sure he met some unsavory types, but he seems to be a very centered kid. I don’t think Red or anyone else will persuade him to do something he doesn’t want to. I think he’s just trying to find his way in his new world.”
“Maybe.” Ty stared into the flames, his face highlighted by their dancing glow. “He doesn’t talk much, you know. I was hoping that time would ease his grief, that we could talk about her. But with everything so wild at the Haven, there’s hardly a moment.”
“Then make one.” Her heart ached for him. “The Haven will be around next year and the year after, but Jack won’t and he’s your primary responsibility. He needs to know you’re there, that you love him and care about him. That you want what’s best for him.”
Cassidy suddenly realized that she was advising a psychologist on family matters.
“Sorry,” she apologized, embarrassed by her outburst. “I’m sure you know exactly how to treat your nephew. I should mind my own business.”
He didn’t contradict that, but a cute little grin fluttered across his mouth. “Like that’s going to happen.”
She lifted one eyebrow. “Touché.”
They spent some time discussing the programs for the coming month. Ty shared some ideas he’d been pursuing, stunning her with the scope of his plans.
“Wow. These are big ideas. Are you sure—”
“Rest assured I haven’t been pursuing dead ends,” he snapped, setting his cup down hard on the coffee table. “I want things well under way before the spring.”
“What happens in the spring?” Ty seemed suddenly intense and Cassidy didn’t understand why; a few days ago she’d had to push him to allow a single meal to be served.
“Sooner or later we’ll have a grand opening. Before that happens I want to make sure the Haven is doing everything my sister intended it should.”
“I see.” Cassidy opened her mouth to ask another question, saw his glance fall on the picture she’d hung above the settee.
“What’s that?” he asked, rising to take a better look.
“A drawing.” She did not want to talk about her dream.
“A very detailed one. Of what?” He studied the sturdy columns, the wide front porch, the lush urns that guarded the entry.
“A friend drew it for me. Would you like more tea?”
Questions hovered in his scrutiny but Ty didn’t ask them. He simply watched her for several moments before checking his watch.
“I’d better go. Jack’s probably won by now.”
“Does he always win at chess?”
“Usually. He’s a strategist. Thanks for the pie.”
“I wrapped up the rest of it for you to take home. I know teenage boys get hungry and I won’t eat it. I’m on a diet.”
“I can’t imagine why. But thank you.” Ty pulled on his jacket, accepted the pie from her. Still, he didn’t leave.
The stretching silence unnerved her. Cassidy couldn’t look at him.
“You did a great job with the meal,” Ty said, his voice soft. “The turnout was far better than I expected and everyone enjoyed your cooking. Including me.”
“It was fun,” she admitted. “I’m going to ask Davis if his church will sponsor the grocery night every Saturday. That stuff disappeared in seconds.”
“There is a food bank a few blocks over.”
“Which none of those people will use and we both know that.” She waited, wondering why he hesitated.
“You could ask him tomorrow. Jack and I are going to his church. We could give you a ride.”
Cassidy shook her head. “No. Thanks. I don’t do church.”
“Okay.” He shuffled from one foot to the other, shadowed eyes watchful. “Well, at least you can sleep in a little later tomorrow morning. Good night.”
“Good night.” She closed the door behind him, drew in a deep breath to modulate her racing heart. Without saying a word, Tyson St. John could make her feel like she was sixteen and about to get her first kiss.
She glanced at the rendering on the wall, felt the squeeze of determination grip her insides.
But he couldn’t get her to talk about her dream. Not until she was ready.
Not until there was no possibility that he or anyone else could ruin it.
Chapter Five
By eleven on Monday morning Cassidy and Irina had almost finished preparations for the first seniors’ lunch at the Haven.
“The sandwiches are ready. Now we can focus on supper.”
“You will continue to serve evening meals?”
“Six nights a week is my goal.”
“But you have no day off. It is pushing too hard.”
“I take Sundays off. Soup and sandwiches with
a doughnut for tonight won’t kill me, Irina. Besides, after Saturday’s success, I want to keep up the momentum.”
“I am game.” Irina grinned.
“Good. Now watch carefully because the doughnuts will brown very quickly. Flip them over once. As soon as they’re finished, scoop them out and let them drain. But don’t spatter yourself and don’t rush. Okay?”
“Yes.” Irina nodded.
A quick learner, Irina was soon frying doughnuts as if she were in a production line. Almost finished, she yelped as hot oil spattered her hand.
“Let the water cool it,” Cassidy advised, turning the tap on. The injury was slight, but she fished out the last two doughnuts herself.
“I wasted a lot of time for you.” Irina patted her hand dry.
“No. Anyway, your being okay is more important. We’ll glaze them in a few minutes, and then all we have left are vegetables to chop for tonight’s soup.” She saw the other woman waver and knew Irina stood upright only through force of will. “Let’s take a break.”
“But the luncheon?”
“Is ready. Come on. Relax for a minute.”
Cassidy set some of the sandwiches on a plate and poured coffee, but it wasn’t until they were seated and Irina held the bread to her lips that Cassidy noticed her shaking hand. Irina caught her stare and quickly thrust her free hand under her thigh, keeping her eyes downcast.
“What’s wrong, Irina? You’re shaking.”
“I will get stronger,” she reassured, as if afraid she’d be fired.
“You’re doing fine. But I don’t think you’re worried about work. It’s something else. Couldn’t you tell me? I’d like to help.”
Irina said nothing for a long time, but a tear crept out from under her lowered lid, then another until she was openly weeping. Feeling helpless, but guessing the woman needed this physical release, Cassidy waited.
“I’m sorry.” Irina dabbed her eyes. “I will get back to work now.”
They went through the same routine every morning for the next two weeks, and every time, Cassidy encouraged, hoped, waited. When nothing happened, she finally sought out Ty for advice.
“You can’t make people get help, Cassidy. It usually takes something big to make most people act.” He accepted the coffee she’d brought, his blue eyes soft with sympathy. “It must be doubly hard for Irina.”
“Why? Most days when she arrives, it’s clear she’s in pain. But I don’t think she’s had a drink since she started.” Cassidy couldn’t comprehend an otherwise strong woman’s refusal to free herself and her children from such a situation.
Secretly Cassidy constantly compared Irina with her mother, recalled the many nights in bed listening to the arguments between her parents and often, the sounds of violence. Yet the next morning, her mom had always acted as if everything was fine.
“It’s as if Irina’s waiting for things to get better.”
“No doubt she is.” He dragged a hand through his freshly trimmed hair, leaned back in his chair, his gaze pensive. One finger tapped the desktop. “I’m sure she came to this country full of hopes. Her husband probably did, too. But things haven’t worked out the way either of them wanted.”
“So he terrorizes his family?” Cassidy knew too much about this part. “Maybe somebody should take a couple of rounds out of him.”
“Like you?” Ty teased. One glance at her face and his chair dropped to all fours. His cup hit his desk, spraying coffee droplets over his arm. His face tightened. “Don’t even think about it, Cassidy.”
“I don’t have a death wish. But Irina’s wound so tight, I’m afraid she’ll crack. She needs to talk to somebody.” An idea flickered to life. “Could you?”
Ty’s face blanched and the self-assured man vanished. His fingers stopped tapping, pressed tight against the desk surface. His eyes darkened to navy.
Cassidy felt his fear as if it were a tangible object in the room.
“Me?”
“That is what you do—talk to people. Counsel them. Isn’t it?”
“I did. Once.” Tiny lines fanned out around his pinched lips. “But—”
“Just a conversation.”
“I don’t think I could—”
“Please, Ty? Irina’s hurting and she needs someone to talk to. Isn’t that why the Haven is here? To help?”
Cassidy watched him wage some internal battle. Finally he inclined his head, once.
“All right. But I won’t push and I won’t tell you what we discuss.”
“Of course not.” She was offended that he thought he had to say it. “When?”
“I’ll ask her to fill out some papers tomorrow morning.”
“Great.”
From his grim countenance, Ty didn’t think so. Maybe it had something to do with the argument she’d overheard last night between him and Jack.
“Is everything all right, Ty?”
He’d been shuffling through some papers but his hands stilled at her words, his head lifted. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” She pretended to peer out the window. “I didn’t see Jack around yesterday.”
“He and Red had ‘things to do.’” Exasperation was clear in his tone.
“She’s not a bad girl, you know.” She ignored his laugh. “I think she’ll come around when she starts seeing changes happen in the community.”
“From your lips to God’s ear.”
He was brooding. Cassidy couldn’t stand there doing nothing.
“Get up.”
“Huh?” He glared at her. “I can’t go anywhere. I’ve got tons to do.”
“Don’t we all? Get up.” She tapped her foot on the floor, waiting for him to rise. “Lose the tie, Ty.”
“Hah.” His fingers went to the perfect knot, fingered it while he studied her in that scholarly but perplexed way that said he was trying to figure her out.
“Undo it. Come on, counselor. Dinner’s almost ready but I’ve got coleslaw to make so get rid of that tie.”
“What is this about?” He loosened the tie, drew it off and laid it on his desk.
“Winter doldrums, I think. Let’s go.” He didn’t move quickly enough so Cassidy looped her arm through his and drew him along with her toward the gym. She opened the door, flicked on the lights and pushed him inside.
“You cannot have this room for a kitchen,” he said, but a faint light now glowed in the indigo irises.
“You’ve been taking funny lessons from Davis.” She grabbed a basketball, dribbled it to the back of the gym and took a shot. “That’s one for me.”
“One what?”
“Point. Loser owes the winner a favor. Best out of ten.” She set up, then netted the ball perfectly. “Two for me. Get ready to pay up, director.”
In an instant the ball was lifted from her fingers. He tossed a rim shot, rested his hands on his hips in a cocky stance and waited for the ball to sink.
“You should have told me the rules first, chef. Don’t you know cheaters never win?”
Never one to give up without a fight, Cassidy dug in her heels and hung on for the toughest game of one-on-one she’d ever played. And lost.
“So let me get this straight. I won. Therefore you owe me a favor. Wasn’t that how you described this game?” Ty’s smirk ruined the attempted solemn look.
“Arrogance is not one of your better features. Have I mentioned that?”
Truthfully Cassidy couldn’t find a thing wrong with his features. His flushed face shone with pleasure, his mouth quirked up in that mocking grin he often used and his body stance was assured, confident—nothing like he’d looked earlier.
Her arm still tingled where he’d pushed it away while reaching for the ball. She got caught up staring into his eyes. Her breathing suspended.
For once no inner voice warned her about trust.
“What’s going on?” Jack stood in the doorway.
The moment shattered.
“Cassidy was teaching me about basketball.”
“I may have forgotten to mention that.” Ty held his palms up. “She didn’t really give me time to explain.”
“Conned by a pro.” Cassidy shook her head, winked at Jack. “Disgusting.”
“Worse than that.” Jack’s gaze seemed fixed on Ty’s beaming face. “He usually cheats.”
“I don’t need to cheat.” Ty’s chest puffed out. “I’m too good.”
“Yeah?” Cassidy lifted the ball from Jack’s hands and zinged it at Ty. “Prove it, hotshot. Jack and I against you.”
“That’s not—Hey!” he yelled as Jack stole the ball, raced across the floor and made a basket.
The next half hour passed in laughter and good-natured jeering, but at the end of it, Ty remained the point leader.
“You do know CPR, right? Because I’ll probably have a heart attack anytime now.” He bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. He turned his head, shot her a grin. “But it was worth it just to know you owe me. You, too, Jack.”
“We were playing for something?” Barely winded, Jack continued to shoot baskets with deadly accuracy.
“Favors,” Cassidy huffed, clutching her side. “You and I both owe him one. I need to get back to the kitchen. Life’s easier there.”
“Are we having food at the karaoke on Friday night?”
“Pizzas.” She dragged herself toward the door, almost wishing she’d saved her energy for work. But it had been so much fun.
“Wait up.” Ty walked beside her, held open the door. “Coming, Jack?”
“Nah. Can I let some of the guys come and shoot baskets?”
Ty paused, nodded.
“Let me know when they get here. Mac can supervise.”
“They’re not going to rob the place.” Jack’s ruddy face grew belligerent. “Like there’s anything to rob in this dump.”
A tic flickered in Ty’s jaw but he kept his voice level.
“There is a liability issue and I won’t endanger your mother’s work. So please tell me when they arrive. Okay?”
“Fine.” Jack slammed the ball against the hoop so hard the echo rattled around the empty gym.
