by Glynna Kaye
He didn’t need anyone—especially Rio—feeling sorry for him, thinking he wasn’t capable of providing for his boy.
“I need to be patient, which isn’t one of my natural gifts.” He cracked a smile. “So please don’t say anything to your family. This situation is strictly between the two of us.”
“Okay. But if there’s anything I can do to help...”
“I know where to find you. Thanks.”
Her phone chimed, and she pulled it out of her pocket. “Do you mind if I take this? My cousin Garrett and I are playing phone tag.”
He shook his head, more than happy to be released from the unwelcome pity he’d detected in her eyes as she moved away to take the call.
Chapter Nine
“So can we count on you, Rio?” Pastor Garrett McCrae’s voice held a pleading note as he wrapped up the purpose of his call. “With your personal experience with this kind of thing, I think the kids will listen to you. Parents, too.”
“I don’t know, Garrett...” Part of her jumped at the chance to speak to the church youth group—and others who wished to join them—following an incident that happened a few days ago right in Hunter Ridge. A seventeen-year-old boy had beat up his sixteen-year-old girlfriend.
But was she ready to go public? To share her story and to attempt to meet the needs of an audience looking for guidance? Even with her recent participation in the spiritual retreat, was she ready for something like this?
“Both kids involved are popular,” her cousin continued. “Come from good families. They’ve occasionally attended our youth group events. It’s not like anyone can shrug off what happened and say, ‘Well, what can you expect from that part of town or from a family like that?’ Dating violence knows no boundaries.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Neither did it know boundaries within a marriage or—she glanced to where Cash again crouched by the fence in the fading light—postdivorce.
“With your help, though,” Garrett urged, “we can get this too-often buried issue out in the open. Start dealing with it at a community level.”
Is this what you want for me, Lord? To step out and get a real-life taste of the ministry You’re calling me to?
I’m scared.
But how might things have been different if someone had come to her a few years ago and gotten her to see where her relationship with Seth was heading? Helped her to recognize the signs, convinced her she wasn’t being paranoid about the little things he’d convinced her were solely in her overactive imagination.
She gripped her phone more tightly. “I’ll do it.”
“I know this is a big step you might not feel you’re ready for. So thanks, Rio.” Garrett’s voice held a note of pride that confirmed her decision. He’d always been like an extra brother, cheering her on. “Not many know what happened to you in college. You know, why you didn’t go back after your freshman year. I think the kids will listen to you.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“And God will do the rest. Guaranteed. Thanks, cuz.”
When she shut off the phone, she noticed Cash had come up behind her and now stood a distance away, politely letting her conclude the conversation.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” It was. Or it would be once she got over what some might call stage fright. She’d never done much public speaking before, and certainly not about something so personal. “A boy at the high school assaulted his girlfriend, so Garrett’s asked me to address the youth group about dating violence.”
“Whoa. That’s a pretty heavy topic.”
“He knows that’s where my interests lie—counseling with an emphasis in domestic violence, with a particular interest in reaching young people caught up in destructive dating patterns.”
“You mentioned counseling earlier, but I didn’t know you’d be specializing in that area.”
She slipped her cell phone into her jacket pocket. “I went to NAU two semesters, then circumstances dictated that I step back for a few years. I’ve been trying to get the rest of my general ed classes out of the way at the junior college in Show Low. I’ll launch back into the heart of it again come August.”
“Impressive.”
She shifted self-consciously, acutely aware of the admiration in his eyes. “I don’t know about that, but it’s needed. The statistics are alarming. And no race, age, social or economic bracket is exempt. Men, too, can be victims of abusive girlfriends, spouses or other women in their life.”
He didn’t need to know her personal stake in it, though. Only the academic and theoretical aspects.
A shadow seemed to pass over Cash’s eyes. “You won’t get arguments from me. Hodgson Herrera was a textbook abuser. Physical and emotional.”
A chill raced through her. “He hit you?”
“Some. It was my mother, though, who took the brunt of it. I pulled him off her more times than I care to remember.”
She stared at him, her spirits plummeting. Abusers beget abusers. You’d think it would be just the opposite, but too often that was the case. Seth, when begging for her forgiveness, had admitted that his own father had used him as a punching bag.
“I had no idea, Cash.” Had this been going on right under the Hunter family’s nose during the years Hodgson Herrera had worked here? Had her parents known? Grandma Jo? Surely not, or he’d have been jailed long before that altercation with Jeb Greer.
Cash tipped his hat back on his head as the shadows deepened around them. “I kept trying to get her to leave him for her own safety, to get help, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Said he wouldn’t hit her if she hadn’t done something to deserve it. Can you believe that? Sometimes I didn’t know who to be the most mad at—Mom or Dad.”
A heavy weight settled in her chest. “The victim accepting the blame isn’t uncommon.”
“He had her convinced that any shortcomings he had were her fault. That her perceptions of what happened were skewed. He had her doubting her own memory, sometimes her sanity.”
A prickle of recognition raced through her. “That’s called...gaslighting.”
His gaze sharpened. “It has a name?”
She nodded. “Where are your folks now? Your mom’s not still with him, is she?”
He kicked at the ground. “Dad’s in prison. Attempted murder of a guy he worked with. While I don’t see or hear from her often, Mom’s living with her sister out of state.”
He gazed toward a stand of pines on the far side of the corral, a muscle in his jaw working. “But even behind bars with plenty of time to think things over, as far as Dad’s concerned it was his crazy wife who pushed him into affairs. He denies any violence directed at her even though I was a witness to it.”
He looked back at her, his expression now one of incredulity. “Which is why my ex-wife’s claims of violence at my hands, which you’ve no doubt heard about by now, are so laughable. Yeah, I’ve decked more than a few men who were asking for it. But hit a woman after what I lived through with my mother? No way.”
“But the jury. The judge—”
“My ex-wife can be very convincing and the judge had previously presided in juvie court back when I was a teen with attitude and chronically acquainted with the court system. He knew my track record, but didn’t recuse himself. My overworked, court-appointed attorney dropped the ball and didn’t make the motions in a timely manner for a new judge, so I got stuck with him. I imagine when sentencing me he thought hitting an ex-wife was one more step in an expected downward spiral, and he’d had enough of seeing my ugly mug in front of his bench.”
Was that the truth? Surely there would have had to be strong evidence to lock a man up for six months.
“I’m sorry, Cash.” What else could she say? She didn’t dare admit that doubts lingered concerning his version of the story. Didn’t d
are admit she had, if only for a short while, experienced what his mother had experienced. Doubting herself. Blaming herself. Allowing herself to be controlled by a ruthlessly charming manipulator.
But she didn’t want Cash—anyone—to pity her. To think her childishly naive. Or stupid. Which was what made the thought of talking to high schoolers at Garrett’s request especially intimidating.
Why, though, standing here looking into Cash’s expressive eyes, was she longing down deep to believe he was telling the truth? Because he seemed like a nice guy? Because she enjoyed his company? Because she wanted to believe there were men outside her immediate family who were truly as they portrayed themselves to be? Men of integrity, men with caring hearts. Men who, although by no means perfect, endeavored to live their lives the way God wanted them to.
Was that asking so much?
“I know you’re going to believe about me what you choose to believe.” He sounded resigned, assuming from her protest regarding the court’s decision that she’d made up her mind? “But since we’ve been talking about family...there’s something else I’d like to discuss. Yours.”
“Mine?”
He nodded. “Last night when a clerk at the grocery store heard I was working at the Hideaway, working with you, she asked me how your mother was doing. Praised her for her courage in the face of her challenges.”
Rio looked into Cash’s troubled eyes. Eyes shadowed with unmistakable hurt.
“Why didn’t you tell me,” he said flatly, “that she has cancer?”
* * *
Cash gazed into Rio’s startled eyes, searching for answers.
“Do you think keeping it a secret was fair to me?” The resentment in his tone rang clear even to his own ears. “No way would I have let your mom take on the care of Joey had I known. Your whole family probably thinks I’m an insensitive jerk for taking advantage of her like that.”
Her eyes widened. “No, that’s not true, Cash. She wouldn’t have offered if she didn’t feel up to it. But she doesn’t go around waving her diagnosis and struggles like a flag, and the rest of the family doesn’t, either.”
“I can understand that, but I was caught off guard last night. Felt like a fool. I pretended I knew what the lady was talking about. Finally got the gist of it and put two and two together.” He let out an annoyed huff. “So if you don’t mind my asking, how is your mother? How serious is this?”
Would she tell him, or was that none of his business, either?
Her gaze drifted almost helplessly around the now-shadowed corral as if seeking the right words, then back to him. “It’s serious. Breast cancer.”
A muscle in his stomach knotted. “How recent of a diagnosis?”
“She found out right before Luke and Delaney’s wedding last Labor Day weekend. She had a single-side mastectomy, then ongoing chemo treatments. Those will be wrapping up by summer’s end. God willing.”
Rio was leaving in mid-August. Before her mother had concluded treatments?
“She’s kept working through all of that? I mean, I’ve seen her manning the reception desk. I had no idea anything was wrong.”
“She’s not worked the entire time, just between chemo rounds. She’s feeling better now, though, so don’t feel guilty about her taking care of Joey. That’s something she wanted to do. He brightened her days considerably that week.”
“I wish someone would have told me, though. I mean, I care for your mom. I might be considered a newcomer around here, an outsider, but I first met her when I was ten years old. She was good to me when I was a kid.”
His memory flashed to the times Rio’s mother had stopped to talk to him. Brought him a bottle of water when he’d been helping his dad build fence. Helped him find a lost tool that his father would have likely backhanded him over if not found.
“With you planning to leave the Hideaway, Rio...I never would have guessed this was going on. I’d have thought you’d be sticking close to home where you might be needed.”
“I know it might seem strange to you that I’m choosing to head back to college right now, but...I made a vow.”
“What kind of vow? To who?”
“To God.” She blinked rapidly as if driving back tears.
He hadn’t intended to make her cry. “I’m sorry, I—”
“No, it’s okay. I want you to understand, so that you don’t think I’m abandoning my mom.”
“I wouldn’t think—” But isn’t that exactly what he’d thought? And how often had he concluded that she didn’t appreciate her family? He’d have given anything to have had one like hers, but she seemed to take it for granted.
Rio folded her arms almost protectively, like some vulnerable creature of the wild drawing in, shielding itself, and he sensed the falling of night lent her a needed sense of privacy even in the open corral where they stood.
“When Mom was first diagnosed, you can imagine the shock. The helplessness. The fear.” She momentarily closed her eyes. “I love my mom, Cash. I can’t bear to think of losing her.”
“I can understand that.”
“Have you ever had a time in your life when you’d do whatever it took to change the course of events that looked inevitable? When you’d vowed to turn your life around and set out on a new direction in exchange for an answered prayer?”
“I have. When I finally realized my life was heading down the wrong road and I turned it over to God three years ago.”
“When you were jailed?”
He nodded. “Right before I got out, thanks to months of time and prayer that a deputy sheriff by the name of Will Lamar invested in me.”
Her eyes widened slightly. Did she understand what that meant to him? How it impacted his life and would impact Joey’s if he could be raised to love the Lord?
“That’s sort of what I did, too, except I’d already given my life to Him when I was a teenager. But when Mom...” She blinked rapidly again. “I told God that if He’d spare her life I’d give Him mine for whatever purpose He chose. And I believe that choice, one that had been tugging at my heart for some time but I’d ignored it, is to reach out to young people, to educate and counsel, to make a difference where there’s been dating violence or the potential for it.”
“And that’s why you’re leaving the Hideaway now.”
Her smile held a tinge of sadness. “My family thinks I’ve got a burr under my saddle, that I’m doing nothing more than stubbornly stretching my wings. I can’t tell them the truth of what’s motivating me, though, because they’ll try to talk me out of it. But I can’t delay, Cash. I can’t break my part of the bargain. There’s too much at stake.”
“Bargain? So you’re telling me if you don’t do this—don’t fulfill this vow of yours—your mom will die?”
That sounded more like superstition than faith to him. She was comparing him giving his life to God with this? He hadn’t cut a deal with God—he’d never be good enough to earn a relationship with the Creator of the universe. To deserve eternal life. It was a gift.
“Her scans have been clear for months now. Her mother—my grandmother—wasn’t so fortunate. She died of breast cancer, so I never got a chance to know her. That fact alone underscores the importance of following through on my vow while there’s still time. Who knows if I have that same cancer in my own future? But I believe that ever since I made that promise God’s been making a positive difference in my mother’s health. So I’m going to uphold my pledge to the best of my abilities.”
Cash frowned, struggling to get his head around what she was telling him. “Rio, I don’t believe God bargained with you for your mom’s life. Him choosing to heal her—or not—isn’t because you twisted His arm. Cut a deal.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing. It’s a partnership. A covenant of sorts.”
“You’re the one who us
ed the word bargain in reference to it. But there’s a verse in Psalms where it says that nobody can redeem the life of another person or pay God a ransom for them. No payment is enough. Your vow isn’t enough. Your best intentions aren’t enough. But it sounds as if you think your mom’s life depends on what you do, not on what God chooses to do, His love and grace and mercy.”
She clasped her hands and brought them to her heart. “But He gave me this...this passion, this desire to make a difference.”
“I’m not saying He didn’t. That doesn’t mean, though, that He cut a deal dependent on your performance. What if you do everything you’ve promised to do and your mom doesn’t make it? Does that mean it’s your fault? That somehow you didn’t perform perfectly? You failed her? Failed God?”
He heard her quick intake of breath. “You’re not even trying to understand, Cash.”
“I am. You love your mother. You’d willingly sacrifice your own life in exchange for hers. And not being able to do that, you’ve convinced yourself you’ve clinched a trade in hopes of sparing her life. Maybe God did call you to this ministry you have in your heart—but I can’t buy that following this passion you say you have is the payment He’s exacting from you to spare your mom’s life.”
He looked to her in appeal, praying she’d grasp what he was trying to say. But her expression shuttered, closing him out.
“I shouldn’t have told you any of this. I need to stay focused. Follow through. I thought...you’d understand.”
“I do. But I don’t agree.”
“Well, then, I guess there’s nothing further for us to discuss, is there?”
“But there’s a lot to think about. To pray about, don’t you think?” He reached for her, but she stepped back.
Disappointment—in him?—clouded her eyes as she offered a fleeting smile, then moved to let herself out of the corral and walked into the twilight.
Chapter Ten
Cash didn’t understand.
She’d so desperately needed to share with someone the secret she’d kept hidden in her heart since last fall. And when Cash told her of his mother’s experiences that were so similar to her own, when he said he’d given his life to God a few years ago, when he said how much he cared for her mom, the timing seemed right. An answered prayer.
