Money had always been tight, but not as tight as it was now that she was a single mom. Neither she nor Lorne had had a high paying job, but together, they’d managed to create a small, comfortable home for the three of them. Now, she was reliant on a friend for the home she and Timothy had. Without Lisa’s income, they would not have qualified on just Shayna’s salary for a townhouse in the co-op, and they would have been forced to live in a much worse area.
When she allowed herself to think too much about it, fear and anxiety about her ability to provide for Timothy began to erode what little faith she had. Shayna couldn’t fault Tristan for his middle-class upbringing. She’d had the same. The difference was that the pay-off to stay within that household had been too high for her.
When she’d first told Lorne her story at the tender age of fourteen, he’d said she was like Cinderella, plagued by an evil step-mother. He’d said it in jest, adding that he thought she looked like a princess, but Shayna had always felt the truth in those words.
It had been how she felt at the time. Like she was a slave in her own home. Made by her step-mother to do more within the home than any fourteen-year-old should have had to, and yet still be expected by her father to keep her grades up.
If her grades slipped because chores in the home prevented her from getting her homework done, her dad got mad at her. If she focused more on her homework and didn’t do her chores, her step-mom had gotten angry. It felt like she was in a no-win situation, and the stress was often more than she could handle. And that stress hadn’t even included the verbal abuse she’d taken from her stepmother regardless of whether she’d gotten her work done or not.
It had been too much, so she’d fled, knowing that Child and Family Services wouldn’t see abuse or a bad home environment if they came to visit. Her stepmother would have made sure of that.
“Thank you for the pancakes and the family pass,” Timothy said, making Shayna proud of him for his manners. “I can’t wait to go to the museum.”
Tristan smiled. “You’ll have to tell me all about it.”
After Shayna had boxed up what remained of her meal and Timothy’s, they left the restaurant and climbed into Tristan’s car. As he backed the car out of its spot, Shayna found her gaze caught by his hands on the steering wheel. Though definitely masculine, they were more slender than Lorne’s had been.
Shayna looked away, not sure why she was comparing anything about this man to Lorne. Her husband had been incomparable. A big man—tall, broad, and muscled—he’d been known to use his size when wading into a fray to separate those who were feuding. His hands had carried the scars of the battles he’d fought in his teens. Some of them on her behalf.
Tristan was his opposite in appearance though there was a similar friendliness about him. The two probably would have been friends. Lorne believed that everyone was a friend until they proved otherwise. Shayna, however, tended to believe the opposite. Which was why her circle of friends had shrunk exponentially with Lorne’s passing.
Lorne’s home situation—the reasons CFS had removed him—had been truly horrifying. It was a wonder that he had come out of it as stable and happy as he’d been. From the moment he’d rescued her a few days after she’d run away, he’d appointed himself her protector. He’d tried to convince her to go home, but when she refused, he’d stayed at her side.
The one time she’d been picked up by the cops and sent home, he’d gone back into foster care, landing with the family who had exposed him to a faith he’d come to embrace. They’d even allowed him to stay past his eighteenth birthday, but he’d left the safety of their home to come to her when she’d run away again.
That she had reached adulthood without being assaulted, at the very least, or murdered like other girls on the street had been, was in large part because of Lorne and the way he’d protected her. Protected her. Then loved her. Then married her.
But then he’d left her on her own with their son, grief-stricken over the loss of her husband and unborn daughter.
Swallowing down the waves of emotions that rushed toward her, Shayna tuned back into the conversation going on in the car. Would there ever come a time when the door to the past wouldn’t open at some point each day and try to suck her through it? It was like those science fiction movies that Lorne had liked to watch, where the door to space opened and sucked out anything not firmly tethered.
Her single tether, which kept her from being sucked through that door, was Timothy. Her love for him strengthened that tether daily, but it didn’t stop the past from reaching for her, at least once each day.
When they reached the church, her car was one of only a handful still in the parking lot. Tristan pulled into the spot beside it, then got out. He helped Timothy climb out, then carried his booster seat to her car where he put it in the same spot he’d taken it from before they’d left earlier.
When Timothy was buckled into his seat, Tristan shut the door then turned to her. Before she could say anything, he said, “Thank you for allowing me to treat the two of you to lunch. I thoroughly enjoyed chatting with Timothy. He kind of reminds me of myself when I was that age. I daresay it’s the most intelligent conversation I’ve had in quite awhile.”
Shayna couldn’t help but smile at that. “I think Timothy would say the same.” She hesitated. “Thank you. For lunch and for the family pass to the museum.”
“You’re welcome,” Tristan said as he tipped his head slightly. “I’ll see you next week.”
Shayna nodded then slid behind the wheel of her car. She hated to think of starting it while Tristan stood there because of the racket it was going to make. But while he had stepped back, Tristan made no move to get in his own vehicle. Resisting the urge to glance at him, Shayna twisted the key and said a prayer of thanks when the car started on the first try.
As she pulled away from the church, Timothy began asking how soon they could go to the museum. And though she was truly grateful for the gift of the family pass, for a moment, she wondered where she’d find the time or—on a more practical level—the money needed for parking at the museum.
Tristan poured himself a cup of coffee then walked over to the large picture window that looked out over the park that lay across the street from the apartment building where he lived. Though he didn’t mind winter too much, the first major snowfall of the season always came as something of a shock to the system.
As he took in the white landscape, he couldn’t help remembering the sound Shayna’s car had made when she’d started it that day at the church a few weeks back. And even though he wasn’t anywhere near an expert mechanic and actually knew precious little about cars, he’d also noticed that the tires had appeared to have very little tread.
Now that there was snow on the ground, his worry grew. The streets would be slick, and with colder weather not too far in the future, engines in poor condition would struggle to start, and smooth tires could prove hazardous. Would that mean she’d have to take a city bus with Timothy if they needed to get around?
Tristan took a sip of his coffee, staring at the snow as his mind churned for a solution that might work for Shayna. He had no doubt that if he turned up with a better car for her, she’d refuse him outright. When she’d realized what he’d given Timothy, he’d seen the moment she’d wanted to refuse the gift. But the war had been brief, and in the end, fueled no doubt by love for her son, she’d chosen instead to thank him for the pass.
He wasn’t sure that the result would be the same if he tried to hand over a set of keys. Was it possible that he could once again use her love for her son to get her to accept the gift of a car?
Letting out a long breath, Tristan turned from the window. He finished the last of his coffee then put the mug into the dishwasher before pulling on his jacket. Shouldering the strap of his laptop bag, he left the apartment and headed for the back door of the building that led to the parking lot.
“Did you enjoy the exhibit?” Tristan asked when the class was over that next Sunda
y.
Timothy had told him the previous week that Shayna had promised to take him to the museum for their latest exhibit. Tristan was glad to hear that his gift was being put to use.
“It was so cool,” Timothy exclaimed before going on to share in detail what all he’d seen there.
When Shayna showed up a short time later, she sank down in the chair beside Timothy, their coats in her arms. She gave Tristan a quick smile before her gaze settled on her son.
“Is he telling you all about our little excursion?” she asked, looking up at Tristan again.
“He is. It sounds like you guys had a fun time. Or at least he did.”
Shayna smiled again as she said, “While I enjoyed some parts of it more than others, spending time with Timothy is always my favorite thing.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Tristan said. And then, because he just couldn’t help himself, he asked, “Is your car holding up okay in the snow and cold?”
The smile slipped off her face as her brow furrowed. Her gaze dropped to Timothy, as she handed him his coat. “It’s doing fine.”
Tristan realized he’d overstepped. Had he ever done that before? Usually he thought long and hard before speaking—especially when he knew that what he wanted to say could be sensitive to whoever he was speaking to. Why had he blurted that out, knowing how she was likely to receive his question?
“We need to go, sweetheart.” Shayna got to her feet and helped Timothy with his coat. Once his coat was fastened, she took care of her own. Giving Tristan a smile that was clearly forced, she said, “We’ll see you next Sunday. Have a good week.”
“Shayna, wait.” Tristan held out his hand toward her. “I’m sorry. I know that’s none of my business. I was just…worried.”
“You don’t need to worry about us,” Shayna said, her voice tight. “We are not your responsibility, nor are we a charity case.”
Before Tristan could respond to that, she gripped Timothy’s hand and turned toward the door. Tristan shoved his hands into his pockets as he watched them walk away. Timothy cast a brow-furrowed look over his shoulder as he followed his mother through the wide doors of the gym. Tristan managed a smile to let him know that regardless of what had transpired between him and his mom, nothing had changed between the two of them.
He was such an idiot.
CHAPTER SIX
Though Tristan felt in desperate need of advice, none of his brothers would have believed that he was asking for anything except a romantic interest in Shayna. Truly, though, his concern was based on the friendship—however unlikely it was—that he shared with Timothy.
With a sigh, Tristan pulled on his coat then picked up his messenger bag and looped its strap over his shoulder. Outside the gym, he spotted Maya standing beside Gabe with their little girl perched on her hip. They were talking to a couple that Tristan recognized but had only shared a brief conversation with once or twice.
He thought about joining them, but instead, he headed for the doors leading from the church to the lot where he’d left his vehicle earlier. The cold air bit at his exposed skin as he walked across the parking lot, avoiding the snowy patches.
There was a Sunday dinner planned at the family home, so rather than head for his apartment—which in all honesty was where he’d rather have gone—Tristan steered his car out of the city. He was fortunate in that no one would find it out of the ordinary that he was quiet throughout the meal. No one would likely ask him what was wrong, which was a good thing since he wasn’t sure what to say.
As the meal passed, in amongst the chattering of the children who now filled high chairs and booster seats around the large table, they discussed when the best time to set up the large Christmas tree would be. They usually did it together each year, so figuring out a time that worked for everyone could be a challenge.
But for as long as he could remember, that had been their tradition. He wondered if Shayna and Timothy had longstanding holiday traditions that they followed. She hadn’t mentioned if they had any contact with Timothy’s father’s family.
“You okay, bro?”
Tristan looked up from the bowl he was rinsing in the sink after their dinner. Ryan set down the dishes he’d carried in from the dining room and pushed them across the island toward him.
“I’m fine.” Tristan turned back to the warm soapy water and lifted the bowl to rinse it. “Why?”
Ryan leaned a hip against the island and crossed his arms. “You seem distracted today.”
“Distracted?” Tristan kept his gaze on the platter he was swirling the dishcloth around.
“Well, I can’t say that you were quieter than usual, because that wasn’t the case, but at least you’re usually engaged. You might not be participating in the conversation, but at least you seem like you’re listening to it.” Ryan fell silent as Danica and Sierra came in with more dishes. Once they’d left, he said, “You were clearly distracted in there today. Care to share?”
“No, not really.” Tristan moved on to another dish.
“Let me rephrase, bro,” Ryan said as he came around the island, closer to where Tristan stood. Once again, he leaned against the counter, arms still crossed. “Share.”
“Now is not the time or place, Ry,” Tristan said.
“Well, I suppose we’ve made progress already. You’ve gone from denying something was distracting you to saying that this isn’t the time or place to share what it is.”
Tristan shot him an exasperated look. “You’re as observant as ever.”
“Would you like to go out for coffee later tonight? Or maybe I could drop by your place?”
“There’s no need for you to give up your evening. It’s not that important.” Though as he said the words, Tristan realized that of all his brothers, Ryan was probably the most likely to listen and give sound advice.
“I think Hannah can manage without me for one evening. In fact, I’m pretty sure that—should I share my observations with her—she would insist that I go.” Ryan thumped him lightly on his shoulder. “We’ll talk later.”
Tristan nodded then returned to his task as Ryan left him. Maybe talking it out would help, but more than that, he hoped Ryan might have some idea of how to help him communicate more effectively with Shayna. To help her understand that he meant them no harm and only wanted to do what he could to make sure they were safe.
No matter what Shayna might have thought, Tristan didn’t view her and Timothy as a charity case. He had no doubt in his mind that she was trying her best—and succeeding—to care for Timothy. But if he could make their life a little easier and safer, wasn’t that for the best? He had no ulterior motives. Just the need to know that the two of them were safe.
After he’d finished helping clean up, he said goodbye to his folks and followed some of his siblings who’d already left out the front door. The drive home didn’t take long, and once there, he settled into his favorite chair with his laptop. Jackson had sent him a link to the beta testing site for some upcoming updates to the game. They had opened the site to their trusted beta gamers the previous day, and already, reports were being sent in of bugs and glitches they’d found.
Tristan spent the next few hours checking out the reports himself, seeing which were true, and which might have been attributed to lag or other issues. It had taken a little time to get his focus to shift from Shayna to the game, but eventually, he’d gotten there and was grateful for it.
It wasn’t until he heard a thump on his door that he picked up his phone to see what time it was. He saw a text message and a few missed calls from Ryan and realized he’d forgotten to switch his phone back on after church that morning.
“Come on, Tris.” Ryan’s words were accompanied by another pounding on the door.
With a sigh, Tristan set his laptop to the side then got to his feet. He pulled open the door, stepping back to allow Ryan to walk in.
“Sorry,” he said as he followed Ryan into the living room. “My phone was still on silent from church thi
s morning.”
“Well, I guess we meet here then,” he said then lifted the drink tray he held. “Good thing I made a stop on the way.”
Ryan set the tray on the coffee table along with the box of donuts he carried in his other hand. Bending over, he worked one of the cups free and handed it to Tristan before taking the other one for himself. He settled back on the couch that Tristan had purchased more for its comfort than its appearance.
“Okay,” Ryan said after a sip of his coffee. “I think we’ve now got the right time and place. Share.”
Tristan sipped his coffee for a couple of minutes, gathering his thoughts. Ryan also continued to drink his coffee as he ate a donut. Tristan’s siblings had long since learned to let him have his time to think before he spoke. Asking him a bunch of questions just ended up with it taking even longer to get answers.
He thought back on everything—starting with the day when they’d heard the news of Lorne Caron’s tragic death, continuing forward to the day when a little boy in his Sunday School class had reached into his heart—and began to share. Finally, after talking about the times they’d been together in the days since first meeting, he told Ryan what had happened that morning.
“Why do you care?” It was the first question Ryan asked once Tristan fell silent, weary of talking.
Tristan sighed. “I feel for the boy. I see a lot of myself in him. Smart, but shy, especially with the other boys in the Sunday School class. I just want to make things better for him. To let him know that it’s okay to be shy. To not want to do all the things other boys might like to do. Like sports.”
Ryan nodded. “We used to give you a hard time about that, didn’t we?”
With a shrug, Tristan gave a quiet chuckle. “Yeah, you did. Gabe was the worst.”
“But he was also the one who taught you how to ride your bicycle, right?”
“As if that would make up for all the teasing.”
Ryan continued to sip his coffee then slanted a look at him. “Was it that bad for you, Tris? The way we used to tease you?”
Reaching Her Heart: A Christian Romance (Callaghans & McFaddens Book 8) Page 5
