by Irene Hannon
“How were the kids?”
“A little wary. Scoping out the new teacher, getting the lay of the land. But they seem like good kids—in general.”
“Why the qualifier?”
He frowned and took a sip of his coffee. “I’m teaching a creative writing class, and I had one kid who didn’t turn in the homework. I mentioned his name in the lounge, and it seems he’s somewhat of a troublemaker. Rarely does his homework, so his grades are marginal. But he aces out on tests, so he’s obviously bright. It’s a shame for potential like that to be wasted.”
Rebecca frowned. “What’s his name?”
“Pete Cramer.”
She shook her heard slowly. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“I got the impression that he comes from a broken home. Lives with his father, I think, who works at the plant.”
“Maybe no one’s ever really encouraged him,” Rebecca speculated.
“How do you mean?”
She gazed at him earnestly. “Well, if someone took a real interest in him, made him do the work, he might blossom.”
Zach frowned. “How do you make a seventeen-year-old boy do anything?”
“Long-term I guess it’s a matter of finding a way to make him want to do it,” she said thoughtfully. “In the meantime, though, some discipline might do the trick.”
He gave her a rueful grin. “Not a popular word in this day and age.”
“Maybe not,” she agreed. “But being an authority figure isn’t always a popularity contest,” she pointed out. “I really believe that even though kids may act like they resent discipline, they respect it when it’s administered by someone who is genuinely concerned about them. And I also think it boosts their self-esteem to know that someone cares enough to take that kind of interest.”
Thoughtfully he took a sip of his coffee and eyed her speculatively. “You could be right.”
“Well, I certainly don’t have any great experience to draw on,” she admitted. “But it might be helpful to be firm and set the rules right up front.”
“I’ll give that some thought,” he promised, before turning the conversation to less serious topics.
By the time the video ended, Isabel’s eyelids were drooping, and Zach glanced at Rebecca with a smile. “I think it’s somebody’s bedtime.”
“It will take her several days to get over the jet lag,” Rebecca replied sympathetically. “I’ll just follow you home and get her settled for the night.”
An hour later, as Rebecca leaned down to hug Isabel’s thin shoulders and place a kiss on her forehead, the little girl clutched at her hand, her eyes wide and imploring.
“Couldn’t you stay tonight?” she pleaded.
Rebecca regretfully shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Isabel. This is Zach’s apartment.”
“I bet he wouldn’t mind if you stayed,” she tried again, her bottom lip starting to quiver.
Would he? she wondered wistfully, then quickly squelched that wayward thought. “But I don’t live here, Isabel,” she gently reminded the little girl. “I’ll see you in the morning, though. Zach will drop you off at the restaurant on his way to school.”
“I…I miss my m-mama,” Isabel said in a barely audible voice that was tinged with tears, gripping her Raggedy Ann doll fiercely.
With difficulty, Rebecca swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I know, sweetie.”
“My papa says I have to be brave and not be sad, because now Mama is with God and she’s happy and well again. But I still miss her.”
“My mama is with God, too,” Rebecca told Isabel, once more hugging her close. “And I still miss her every day, just like you miss your mama. But try not to be sad. I’m sure your mama would want you to be happy. You still have your papa, who loves you very much. And now you have Uncle Zach and me, too.”
“W-will you stay till I f-fall asleep?”
“Of course I will. I’ll even sing you a little song, how would that be?”
Rebecca didn’t know any children’s lullabies, so she chose a familiar hymn instead. By the time she sang it through twice, Isabel had drifted off, too worn out to stay awake, despite her best efforts. Gently Rebecca extricated her hand, and once more lightly brushed her lips across Isabel’s forehead before rising.
Zach was waiting on the couch in the living room when she emerged, but he’d discreetly eavesdropped on the scene in the bedroom a couple of times. He’d heard enough to realize that Isabel was both homesick and grieving. And enough for his heart to be touched by Rebecca’s tender, compassionate interaction with the frightened little girl. He wasn’t surprised at the sheen of tears in her eyes when she finally appeared.
“Pretty tough situation for a little kid,” he commiserated.
“Yeah.” She blinked rapidly, trying to compose herself. “It’s hard sometimes to understand why the Lord lets things like this happen.”
“It’s not just hard, it’s impossible,” Zach replied, a touch of bitterness in his voice.
“I guess that’s true,” she admitted. “But it’s because we’re trying to understand with our finite human intellect. It’s almost a sin of pride to even suppose we could understand the ways of God.”
“So you just accept everything?”
“Is there any other choice?” she asked quietly.
Zach rose and strode over to the window, staring out into the darkness just as he had the night he received Josef’s letter. He jammed his hands into his pockets and sighed. “You sound a lot like Josef. He always accepted everything that happened as the Lord’s will, even when he didn’t see the reason for it. I guess that’s what faith is all about.”
“That’s part of it, anyway,” she concurred.
He continued to stare out into the darkness for a few moments, his brow knit pensively, but finally he expelled a long, weary breath and reached up to massage the back of his neck with one hand. “Listen, I want to thank you for coming over to get Isabel settled, Rebecca. You seem to have acquired an avid fan. I only hope I’ll be as lucky.” His tone was less than confident as he cast a worried glance toward the half-shut bedroom door.
“You will,” she replied reassuringly. It would be hard for anyone not to like Zach, she thought silently—adult or child.
“I E-mailed Josef last night to let him know she arrived, so maybe at least now he’ll have some peace of mind.”
“That reminds me.” Rebecca rose, speaking over her shoulder as she walked toward the coat closet. “I found something you need to see when I was unpacking Isabel’s suitcases.” She opened the door and withdrew a bulky parcel from the top shelf. “There’s a letter taped to it that’s addressed to both of us,” she told him as she handed over the package and they sat down on the couch. “I was surprised to see my name on it. Did you mention me to Josef?” she asked quizzically.
He’d done a lot more than that, Zach reflected. Josef and he always shared important events in their lives, and meeting Rebecca certainly fell into that category.
“Yeah. I thought it might make Josef feel better to know that a woman would also be watching over Isabel.” Which was true. But he’d mentioned Rebecca to Josef long before this situation came up. “Why don’t we read it together?” he suggested.
He carefully pulled the white envelope free, then slit it open. As he unfolded the single sheet of paper, Rebecca scooted closer, and the room became silent as they both scanned the contents.
My Dear Zachary and Rebecca,
I address this note to you both because it seems you will share in the care of my precious Isabel. Rebecca, even though we have never met, I feel I know you from Zachary’s letters. I am grateful that such a fine, generous and loving woman will be helping watch over my daughter, and I thank you most sincerely for your kindness. Since she just lost her mother, it will be good for Isabel to have a woman’s care and special touch.
Zachary, this package is only to be opened in the event something happens to me while Isabel is with you. Otherwise, please ret
urn it unopened when Isabel comes home to me. Remember how you always used to tease me about being “buttoned down” when we were in school, about never leaving any loose ends hanging? (See? I have not forgotten my American slang!) Well, I am still that way, planning ahead for all possibilities.
My dear friends—and I now count you among those, Rebecca—I will never be able to repay the great favor you are doing for me. I send you my heartfelt thanks and eternal gratitude. Please know that in the weeks ahead you will be prominently in my prayers. And I ask that you keep me in yours as well. God bless you both.
Rebecca blinked back her tears as she finished reading the note, and Zach’s ragged sigh told her he was equally moved. If Isabel’s small hand so trustingly placed in hers at the airport yesterday had dispelled most of the doubts Rebecca harbored about the wisdom of her offer, this note banished any that lingered. For reasons of His own, the Lord had put her in a position to offer assistance to this traumatized family. Maybe she wasn’t the best-qualified person for the job. She certainly didn’t have any experience with children. But she did have a great capacity to love, and perhaps that, more than anything, was what was needed in this situation.
Rebecca thought again about the tragedy and heartbreak endured by the grieving, vulnerable child who now slept peacefully in the next room and by her loving father, driven to extreme measures by their desperate plight, and her heart ached. She couldn’t even imagine how difficult it must have been for Josef to put his child, who meant more to him than anything else in the world, on that plane and send her thousands of miles away. His sacrifice was a true measure of the depth of his love, and Rebecca vowed to do everything in her power to give Isabel the comfort and love and stability she so badly needed.
Slowly Zach folded the letter and silently replaced it in the envelope. Rebecca studied his profile, the familiar elements of strength, character and integrity now underlaid with pain, sadness and worry. She had never been blessed with a friendship like Zach’s and Josef’s, but she realized that the ties that bound them truly were stronger than blood. Strong enough for Zach to feel Josef’s pain almost as keenly as if it was his own. Her instinct was to reach over and comfort him, to lay a gentle hand on his arm, but she was afraid to initiate even such an innocent touch. So she let her hands rest motionless in her lap.
As if sensing her scrutiny, Zach turned to look into her sympathetic eyes. “I wish there was—” He stopped to clear his throat. “I wish there was more I could do.”
“You’re doing everything you can, Zach,” she consoled him.
He glanced back at the package in his lap. “Yeah, I guess so,” he replied wearily.
“Josef did ask for our prayers. That’s something else you could do,” she offered quietly.
He shook his head. “I think I’ll have to let you do the praying for both of us, Rebecca. I’m sure God will be more likely to listen to a firm believer like you than a wayward soul like me. I haven’t prayed with any real conviction in six or seven years.”
“It’s not too late to start again,” she reminded him softly, wishing he would. Because she had a feeling that if he did, much of the restlessness, the searching, she sensed in him would ease.
“It is tonight. I’m beat. It’s been a long day for you, too. We both ought to just go to bed.”
At another time, under different circumstances, Rebecca might have sensed an innuendo in that remark. But not tonight. It was a simple statement of fact, and judging by the lines of fatigue on his face, Zach really was all in. She was fading fast herself. “You’re right,” she agreed, rising to retrieve her purse. “I’d better take off.”
Zach rose and followed her to the door, still subdued. As she turned to say good-night, she wanted to reach over and smooth the twin furrows in his brow, which spoke more eloquently than words of his troubled thoughts and deep concern. But again she held back.
“Good night, Zach,” she said softly.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“I’m right here.” She pointed to her older-model car just steps from his door.
“Oh. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then. Is eight-thirty okay? My first class is at nine.”
“That’s fine. And don’t worry about breakfast for Isabel. I’ll give her something when you drop her off.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be cooking, anyway. And Zach,” she paused and glanced down shyly. “Thanks again for the flowers.”
He smiled, and the concern in his eyes gave way to an intimate warmth that made her pulse take a sudden leap. “I’m glad you liked them.”
She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly filled with a wistful yearning that he knew she wasn’t even aware of. It made him want to pull her into his arms, to let his lips say good-night in a way that expressed more clearly than words both his gratitude for her support during this difficult time, as well as the depth of his attraction to her. Somehow, the latter had been relegated to the back burner in the past week as they’d both prepared for Isabel’s arrival and he’d prepped for his new job. But he didn’t intend for it to stay there much longer. Now that he’d settled into his apartment, started his job and Isabel had safely arrived, he could turn his attention back to the most important thing in his life at the moment. Rebecca.
Except that he still needed to be patient and move slowly, he reminded himself, recalling Henry’s sound words of advice. So though his hands longed to pull her close, he stuck them into the pockets of his slacks instead and drew a long, shaky breath. “Drive safely, okay?”
With difficulty, she pulled her gaze away from the compelling intensity of his eyes. “Sure. It’s not like I have far to go.” She tried for a joking tone, but her voice sounded breathless.
“Will you call me when you get there?”
She looked at him in surprise. “Why?”
“I’ll just feel better knowing you’re home safe and sound.”
She was touched by his concern, and a flush tinted her cheeks. “If you want me to,” she agreed. “Good night.”
As she turned and walked away, her heart felt lighter than it had in years. For the first time ever, she had a man in her life who cared about her and a child who needed her. The circumstances weren’t exactly what she’d imagined years ago, when she’d dreamed of a husband and family. But it felt good nonetheless. And right.
Rebecca knew this idyll was only going to last a few weeks. But she resolved to make the most of her time with this special man and charming child. And when it was over…well, for once in her life she would follow Scarlett O’Hara’s advice. She would worry about that tomorrow.
Chapter Eight
Zach wasn’t sure what woke him in the predawn hours. A noise of some sort, he assumed, listening as intently as he could manage in his half-comatose state. But the apartment was absolutely still. With a sigh he turned on his side and hitched the sheet up higher on his bare chest, drifting back to sleep even as he did so. But he was still awake enough to feel the sudden slight jolt, almost as if someone had bumped into his unfolded sleeper sofa bed.
His eyes snapped open and he rose on one elbow, squinting into the dimness as he made a rapid three-hundred-and-sixty-degree scan around the bed. But there was nothing. He frowned. How bizarre! Could that gentle shake, almost like a nudge, have been caused by an earth tremor? he wondered. He knew this area was prone to them. Yet somehow he felt that wasn’t the explanation.
Perplexed, he glanced down at the floor—and got his first clue. A blanket trailed along the floor, disappearing from his sight as it reached the bed. He inched closer to the edge and cautiously looked down, his throat contracting at the sight that met his eyes.
Isabel was curled into a ball on the floor, wedged as close as possible next to the bed, her doll clutched to her chest. One bare foot peeked out from beneath the trailing blanket, and even as he watched she scooted closer still to the couch, making it vibrate ever so slightly.
Zach didn’t h
ave any experience with children. Had never wanted to have any. The idea of being responsible for some little person who was totally dependent had never appealed to him. But the pathetic sight of this tiny, frightened child seeking the comfort of mere human proximity just about did him in.
Moving with extreme care so as not to disturb her, he swung his feet to the floor, then bent down and scooped her up, cradling the reed-thin body in his arms. There was nothing to her, he thought in shock, her featherlike weight hardly registering. She felt like…like a wisp, and he was once again struck by her vulnerability. Isabel whimpered slightly, and he held her closer, instinctively rocking her gently in his arms, murmuring soothing sounds as he made his way back to her room. But when he tried to lay her down, her thin little arms snaked around his neck and she held on fiercely, showing remarkable strength for someone so tiny. Short of prying her arms away—and waking her up in the process—there wasn’t much choice but to take her back to bed with him, he realized.
He retraced his route, easing himself down and stretching out carefully, Isabel still in his arms. She burrowed next to him as he pulled up the sheet and blanket, and as he looked down at the tiny body so trustingly cuddled against his, his heart was filled with tenderness. It was funny, really. He’d spent his life avoiding commitments that involved women and children. He’d always believed that they would be too demanding, that they would distract him from the really important things in life—like his work. But since arriving in St. Genevieve, he’d been forced to rethink that opinion, reexamine his priorities. He now had a woman and a child in his life, both of whom seemed achingly vulnerable and so in need of love. This little one in his arms was totally dependent on him.
And Rebecca…well, she didn’t need him in the sense Isabel did, to provide food and shelter and the day-to-day necessities of life. But she seemed to need him in other ways. He’d come to the conclusion that for reasons he had not yet discovered, her heart was being held prisoner. But he also believed that it yearned to be free. He could see it in the wistful longing reflected in her eyes. Somehow he felt the key to her freedom was in his hands, that if he was patient he would find a way to release her captive heart.
