by Delia Latham
For the first time in years, Rick felt an overwhelming urge to ask God for a favor. After Lea’s mother nearly caused their baby’s death by leaving her alone in a cabin that caught fire, he’d erected a wall of bitterness that alienated him from any deity who would allow such atrocities. Over time, he admitted the fault lay only with his ex-wife. Maureen alone abandoned their baby. Maureen alone left a candle burning near an open window, then walked away from their sleeping child. Maureen—not God—was to blame for Lea’s scars.
Still, he’d found it hard to reconnect with the Almighty after such a long period of silence. His kneeling bones were creaky and his prayer voice rusty. Lately however, being around Clay and Destiny—attending church with them and Kylie—he found himself missing the relationship he’d abandoned. Would God still hear him?
Only one way to find out.
Hand on the doorknob, Rick bowed his head and whispered a plea. “Father, it’s me, Rick Dale. I feel a bit like the famous prodigal son in the scriptures. I know it wasn’t You who broke contact. It was me. My own anger and bitterness drove me from You, and I realize now those feelings were misdirected. Without You, things could have been so much worse for Lea.” A shudder shook his frame as horrid images flashed through his memory. The burning cabin. Lea’s charred little face. The cold fury that froze his heart and soul when he realized what Maureen had done.
But he wouldn’t go back there again.
“Thank You for saving my baby. Thank You for making her the sweet, wonderful child that she is. I’m so grateful that You saved her for me.” He lifted his hand from the knob briefly to brush at his eyes. “And now I want to help other children like Lea. I don’t have time right now to tell You all about my plans, but—well, You know about them anyway, don’t You? You know that, on the other side of this door, there are people who can help me realize this goal. I ask Your blessing on this meeting, Father. Please speak through me as I address these caring individuals who also wish to assist young folks with emotional and physical scars. If the people inside my office are right for Looking Glass Ranch, then form a bond between us. Pave the way for every project. Open doors that need opening, and close those we should not enter.”
Rick paused to pull a handkerchief from his pocket. His cheeks were wet with tears he hadn’t meant to cry. He swiped at them with the crisp white cloth. “I don’t want to walk into this room without You, Lord. Please take my hand and go with me.”
He lifted his head. A tiny smile pulled at one corner of his lips.
Six strangers waited inside. First, he’d need to make introductions and find a way to get them all interacting. Their response to one another, their compatibility—not only as co-workers but a professional family—would be important to the success of this venture. He drew a deep breath and turned the knob.
The rich aroma of coffee greeted him, along with quiet but lively conversation. He and Trina had arranged seven chairs in a circle around a low table, which held a tray of pastries, napkins and dessert dishes. The coffee pot, off to the side atop his credenza, stood almost empty. He hoped to coax enough liquid from it to fill his mug—the only one remaining beside the pot.
It took a moment for his guests to realize he had entered the room, so caught up were they in hearty conversation. His stunned gaze fixed on the chattering little circle, and he shook his head. Not strangers, after all. These people had taken care of introductions on their own. They hadn’t waited for him to come in and break the ice. Already, they were behaving like a team.
“Mr. Dale!” One of the four ladies in the group looked up and noticed him standing just inside the room. He recognized her immediately as Shay Matthews—yes, he had seen her on television, and definitely more than once. Gorgeous gal, made even more lovely by her broad smile and open expression.
The rest of the group stood and turned to face him. Welcoming smiles wreathed every face. Six pair of eyes shone with obvious excitement. If appearances could be trusted, every person in this room was ready to get Looking Glass Ranch up and going.
“Rick.” His voice came out husky and he cleared his throat. “Just Rick. My dad was Mr. Dale.”
Polite laughter greeted his unoriginal comment. He crossed the room and dropped his folder onto the one empty chair in the circle. “It looks like you’ve already taken care of introductions. Let me grab a cup of coffee, and you can repeat them for me. Oh, and please sit down. No need to stand while I get my caffeine.”
Five bodies lowered themselves back into their seats, while the lone man in the group joined Rick at the credenza. He set a half-full mug on the table top and extended his hand with a broad smile. “Mike Sanders, Rick. It’s good to meet you.”
Mike Sanders. Rick remembered the name. He was the bookkeeper extraordinaire and all-round office genie.
The coffee pot proved to hold more than it appeared to, filling Rick’s mug and replenishing Mike’s. “We’ve already been discussing some ideas for the ranch. I think you’re going to like them.”
Rick grinned. “I can’t wait. Give me a moment.”
He stepped to his desk and pressed an intercom button. “Trina, we’re going to need more coffee in here, OK? When you get a moment.”
The predictable response came immediately, crackling through the speaker. “Yes, Meester Rick. Right away.”
Rick chuckled and took his place in the circle. “I have a feeling we might need to keep the juices flowing. Now, it seems you’ve already introduced yourselves. That’s wonderful! I’m thrilled to see you taking initiative, and I appreciate the apparent camaraderie. But I missed all the fun, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to go through the motions again for me.”
He turned to the woman on his left. Her face radiated peace and quiet assurance. Rick estimated her age at somewhere around fifty, which probably made her the oldest of the half dozen hopeful staffers. “Let’s start with you, and go around the circle. Each of you tell me who you are, where you’re from, and what you hope to bring to Looking Glass Ranch.”
All eyes moved to the sweet-faced woman. She dropped her gaze briefly, then looked up with a shy smile. “I’m Grace Melton. I’ve lived near Sacramento all my life. I was married for just over three decades, but my husband passed away a couple of years ago.” She sighed. “I miss him, and I’ve felt lost since his death, like I no longer have a purpose. When I read your advertisement in a regional health magazine, I knew I’d found one. Also…” she paused, drawing a deep, bracing breath. “I know a little something about living with physical disfigurement.”
Grace slowly removed her blazer, beneath which she wore a sleeveless shell. Livid scars covered both arms, leaving the skin shiny and puckered from wrist to shoulder. “They cover my back from neck to waist. I’ve had them since I was twelve. Only God’s grace helped me survive my teen years.”
She slid her arms back into the sleeves of her jacket. “I know about physical scars, and I know all too well about the psychological ones they cause. I have no training in the medical field. I’m not a professional of any kind, but…” Grace paused to clear her throat. “I hope my experience can make some young person’s journey through the emotional fire somewhat easier. That’s why I’m here.”
A brief silence fell over the little group. The ladies brushed at their eyes. Shay used her fingertips, while the others yanked tissues from a box Rick hadn’t even known was there. Thank God for Trina’s feminine intuition.
Finally, he laid a hand lightly on Grace’s shoulder. “Thank you for sharing. I’m sure you’ll be a comfort to more than one of our guests. Now…” He smiled and moved his gaze over the group. “Who’s next?”
Kylie's Kiss
13
Kylie jumped when her phone rang at just after nine o’clock. Who on earth would be calling at this hour?
When she heard Rick’s voice on the line, her lips curved into a delighted smile. Maybe she’d keep the home phone, after all.
“I’m sorry to call so late. I hope I didn’t wake yo
u.”
She laughed. “Hardly. I rarely get to bed before eleven or so.”
The deep rumble of his answering chuckle warmed her right down to her toes. “Well, I’m glad to know I’m not the only night owl in Castle Creek. Hey, I don’t suppose I could drop by for a few minutes? I promise I won’t be long, but I’m a little pumped up. I need to share a bit of good news with someone, and—well, I hoped it could be you.”
Nothing on earth would have induced her to turn him down after that. “What are you waiting for? Come on over. I can’t wait to hear what’s got you so jazzed.”
Half an hour later, they were settled in at the tiny dining table, mugs of hot coffee in hand. Kylie’s curiosity was over the top. She’d noticed the fervent shine in Rick’s eyes the moment she opened the door in answer to his quiet knock. What in the world could have him in such a tizzy?
She sipped at her coffee and set the mug on the table, wishing she’d made tea as well. Rick captured the hand she freed and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks for letting me come by. I apologize for barging in on you like this.”
“It’s OK.” If he wanted to keep holding her hand, she’d be happy to park herself at this table until dawn. “I gotta admit, I’m dying here. What’s going on?”
Grinning like a mischievous teenager, he brought her hand to his lips. “You really want to know?” He whispered the words against the back of her hand.
Kylie’s heart set up a pounding that shook her to the bone. Why did this conversation feel like a defining moment in their relationship? Maybe it was nothing more than the lateness of the hour and the forced intimacy of her tiny apartment—to say nothing of the fact that right now, Rick was very much in her emotional space. Not that she was complaining.
Whatever the reason, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this little tête-à-tête held more importance than a simple late-night visit. Fortunately for her over-stimulated heart, Rick lowered their hands to the table and injected a more serious note into his voice.
“The last time I wanted to talk to you about this subject, you ran out on me.” The smile in his eyes removed any censure she might otherwise have felt at the words, but her stomach lurched nonetheless. He wanted to talk about his beautiful but sadly scarred little girl? Could she handle the subject any better this time around?
“I showed you a photo of my daughter.”
“I remember.” Kylie had a hard time hearing her own words, and made an attempt to speak up. “Lea is a lovely child.”
“Even more than you know. Look, I apologize for springing her on you in front of Clay. I want you to know that I hadn’t been trying to hide her existence. You must be wondering about her mother.”
“I—well, I guess she might have crossed my mind a time or two.”
He quirked one dark brow. “Just a time or two? Well, here’s the nutshell version—and by the way, I need to get this out of the way before I tell you why I’m actually here tonight. It’ll help you understand things a little better.” He hesitated. “This could take a bit longer than I was thinking when I called. Is that OK?”
“Rick! Talk!”
He laughed. “Yes, ma’am! Well, here’s what happened. Maureen and I met and married too fast and too young. Especially for Maureen. She wasn’t ready for a family when she got pregnant, and to be honest, my job kept me away too much. I’m sure she felt abandoned and lonely a lot of the time.”
Not knowing what to say, Kylie kept silent.
“We bought a little cabin in Oregon. I loved it. It was secluded, surrounded by woods. As an aerial firefighter, that little house was my refuge. I loved coming home to it after dealing with the pressures and chaos of burn locations for sometimes weeks at a time.”
He sighed. “Maureen hated it. In hindsight, I can see how she came to resent her situation. She was so young, and very much a wild child. It wasn’t long before our marriage became a battleground. My limited time at home became something to dread, for both of us.”
His story continued. Kylie found herself fighting tears as he talked, recalling his young wife’s descent into alcoholism and, Rick suspected, a bit of drug use. Then she got pregnant.
“I was ecstatic, but Maureen…well, let’s just say Maureen was not. She wanted to end the pregnancy, but I begged her not to do it. I was sure a child would save our marriage.”
He paused, the pain in his voice like a thick cloud in the room. Kylie jumped up and refilled his mug as she blinked back tears.
“I take it that didn’t happen.” Sliding back into the chair across from him, she spoke quietly.
He shook his head. “Some women aren’t meant to be mothers. Maureen was one of them. She never bonded with Lea. Feeding her, bathing her…actually, any chore associated with the baby was drudgery to my wife. I handled Lea’s care myself when I was home, and it reached a point where leaving her with Maureen when I went to work scared me. I was seriously considering moving us back into the city where I could bring in a nanny, or at least someone to help during the times I had to be away at work.”
How much was he leaving out? He’d called this a nutshell version of the story. How bad had things really been? Her heart ached for him, for Lea—even for Maureen, who, no doubt, had been miserably unhappy.
“I should have done it—gotten someone to help with the baby, instead of just thinking about it. I should have made it happen.” His jaw set in a hard line. Kylie knew he was biting back further self-recrimination. “But I didn’t.”
This time, she took the initiative. His hand lay balled into a fist atop her table. She reached out and covered it with her own. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”
“Yes, I can.” He looked into her eyes, and what she saw in his gaze was naked, unadulterated pain. “How can I not blame myself? I left my child alone with a woman who didn’t want her, didn’t love her, and who stayed drunk more than I even knew. When I think of all the things that could have happened…” He paused to draw a deep breath, then expelled it in a frustrated huff. “I will never forget that last trip home. I’d been away for three days—just a short trip, compared to some. I was halfway up the dirt road that led to our place when I saw the smoke rolling through the treetops. I noticed the smell of something burning at the same time, and I knew. I knew it was our cabin.”
Rick’s voice shook and a single tear slid down one cheek. He clenched his jaw so tight Kylie feared he’d break a tooth. She stopped trying to dam the flow of her own tears and gave Rick’s hand a tiny squeeze. “Try to relax, OK? Just take your time.”
“I’m all right. I want you to know everything.” He picked up his mug and downed a sizeable gulp of his lukewarm coffee before continuing. “Maureen was gone. She left our baby alone, asleep in her crib, in a secluded cabin in the woods. She also left a candle burning—why did she leave a candle burning?”
The agony in that question drew a sob from deep within Kylie’s chest. “Rick, please…you don’t have to do this.”
“I do. I need to.”
She sniffled and dragged a tissue over her face, not caring in the least that she hadn’t a speck of makeup remaining. “Then I’m listening.”
He nodded. “I don’t know how I made it the rest of the way without plowing my truck into a tree. I slammed my foot to the floor and just drove, and when I rounded that last bend, I saw—” He cleared his throat and swallowed, obviously attempting to regain control. “Flames totally engulfed the back of the house. I jumped out on the run, but it felt like I was moving through sludge. All I could hear was my baby screaming.”
Rick closed his eyes, and Kylie did the same, the whole scene playing itself out in her vivid imagination. She couldn’t imagine the horror he must have felt.
“I don’t even remember how I got to her, but I did. Somehow I reached her room and picked her up out of that burning bed. When I stumbled out of the house with my little girl in my arms, a fire truck and an ambulance had arrived. They said I called them, but I still don’t remember doing it.
It must have been an instinctive reaction when I saw the smoke.”
“Oh, Rick, how horrible! I’m so sorry. What about—what about Maureen?”
He shook his head. “Maureen never made it back to the city. She must have drunk every meal that day, because her blood alcohol was off-the-charts. She wrapped her vehicle around a telephone pole about five miles out of Portland. I—” He looked up, and Kylie flinched at the coldness in his eyes. “I didn’t even grieve for my wife. All I felt was fury at what she’d done to our child. I took care of her funeral expenses, but I didn’t attend the service. Of course, in my own weak defense, I spent almost every moment of the next several months at Lea’s bedside.”
Silence enveloped them for a few moments. Finally Kylie spoke up. “Your daughter lived. That’s what’s important.”
“You’re right. It is.” He stood and carried both their mugs to the sink. Turning, he leaned against the counter and folded both arms across his chest. “And that’s why I’m here tonight. I haven’t shared this with you yet, but I’m in the process of starting a therapy center on my ranch—a place where disfigured teen girls can learn to feel better about themselves. I’ll give you more details later, but here’s the thing. I want you to be a part of it.”
Kylie felt the color drain from her face. “M—Me?”
“Of course, you. I’ve seen a couple of the presentations you’ve done for Clay, and he’s told me about your flair for marketing. I need someone like you to help me get this thing going.”
“But I have a job.”
“I know that.” He grinned. “Trust me, I wouldn’t try to steal Clay’s assistant. Friend or not, I’m afraid Gallagher would have my hide for that kind of betrayal. But I still think we could make it work, Kylie.” He sighed and reached up to drag a hand through his hair. “What about special projects? Maybe you could do some things for me on a job-by-job basis.”
