by Lois Richer
When Cassie glanced up at him, Rick couldn’t help himself—he reached out and touched her hair as tears filled her eyes. “He said he loved you more than life itself, but he was afraid his choices had hurt you. I never knew what he meant until now.”
Cassie stepped away from him again, needing space.
“John loves you, Cassie. Deeply. We all knew it and envied you for that love.” Rick saw her flinch. “Maybe he spent too much time with us and his other church work, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t love you dearly.”
“Really?” Cassie’s eyes were ablaze with anger now. “Then why, after Eric’s death, when I needed support against all the blame and accusations of my church, did my loving father tell me I needed to ask God’s forgiveness? Why did he imply I was to blame for Eric’s actions? Why didn’t he at least offer to help us financially?”
“I don’t have the answers,” Rick said, helpless against her tide of anger. He wanted so badly to help her see John as he did—a loving, caring parent. And yet Rick knew there were no perfect parents. “Maybe you misunderstood what he was saying.”
“Believe me, I got his message loud and clear.” Cassie stood rigid, apart, alone. “I got in the way of his ‘calling.’”
Rick prayed for words to help her rebuild her relationship with her father. But all he could think about was the part he’d played in creating a barrier between the two of them.
“All I know for sure is that your father loves you, Cassie,” he said in the stillness of the moment between bursts of fireworks. “And that kind of love doesn’t change or die. Your dad loves you very much. But the time he should have spent with you, he spent talking to, helping me. It’s my fault he wasn’t there for you.”
“If my father did something that helped you when you were a kid, I’m glad.” Cassie’s words were sharp, like ice crackling in the bay. “But nothing he did for you will make me forgive the pain and suffering he put me through then, or wipe out the way he, of all people, judged me for Eric’s mistake.”
“You might think you don’t need your father in your life, but what about Noah?” Rick murmured.
“There is nothing my father could give Noah that I can’t. Nothing.” Her eyes held his. “What gives you the right to say I should allow my father in my son’s life? I confided in you, Rick. You’re a pastor, you owed it to me to tell me you knew my dad. Yet you waited. Why? Because you thought you could soften me up?” Head lifted high, Cassie glared at him. “Do you know how betrayed I feel? You’ve just confirmed that people, especially ministers, are not trustworthy.” She walked away to join Laurel by the fire.
Rick stayed where he was. His heart ached as he replayed Cassie’s words. She was right to feel betrayed.
It’s my fault Cassie and her father are estranged. How can I make it up to her? To John?
Make it up to Cassie? How ridiculous. Rick was still withholding the truth. Not that John’s finances were any of his business, except that it was his fault and he knew nothing he did could compensate for the damage he’d done.
Still. Cassie needed to shed the sorrow surrounding her past. She said she wanted to forget, but that wasn’t possible with the soul-deep anger festering inside her. Like Noah, she needed to purge her resentment before she could move on. “Lord, please help her. Help me to help her.” Rick offered the same prayer as he drove home. But questions had lodged in his heart, questions that demanded total honesty.
Am I so desperate to help Cassie so she’ll regain her place in God’s family, or because I feel guilty that her father neglected her for me? Or is something more at stake?
Cassie was like a bright light in his life. She gave him strength and support and the feeling that someone cared. And now he was addicted. He wanted to be her support, her bulwark, the one she could count on.
Okay, maybe he’d ruined what they’d begun building, but he couldn’t believe that. Because if he did, then he’d have nothing.
But his vow wasn’t going away. He’d made it, he had a duty to be a man of his word, to honor his commitment. Rick struggled through the night. By morning he knew only one thing. He had to resist his personal feelings and step back from Cassie Crockett.
She was off-limits. But he couldn’t just walk away from her needy heart.
The knot was too big for him to unravel. All Rick knew for sure was that God put him here to minister. For now he’d focus on his ministry to the Lives’ boys, and Noah. Eventually, God would show him how to help Cassie.
Maybe He’d also show Rick how to ignore the feelings for her that were now rooted deep within his heart.
Chapter Five
In the three days that followed, Cassie spent every spare moment knitting scarves for Alicia, desperate to enrich her depleted savings. Then she’d start building an education fund for Noah.
As she sat at the kitchen counter, working on Alicia’s scarf order, Rick’s words tormented her. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that all those years when she’d thought her father had been avoiding her, he’d been helping homeless, parentless kids like Rick. She’d misjudged her father back then.
A tiny voice inside kept asking if she’d also misunderstood his words after Eric’s death.
During her past two night shifts, Cassie had replayed her father’s words over and over, desperate to understand their meaning.
You blame Eric. You blame God and the people who worship Him. You even blame me. Is it really us you can’t forgive, Cassie? Or is it yourself?
Back then she’d been seething with resentment, certain he’d been hinting that she was at fault for Eric’s mistake. Now, as she reexamined every memory, every event and every thought, Cassie was no longer so sure her interpretation had been right.
She had Rick to blame for her doubts, for putting the idea in her mind that she might have misjudged her father. She’d suffered the injustice of being wrongly judged. She could not tolerate the thought that she’d done the same thing to someone else, even her father.
She resented that Rick hadn’t told her the truth earlier, but at least he had told her. Maybe she owed him an apology.
“Hi.” Rick stood in the doorway to the kitchen, holding two stacked plastic containers in his hand.
“Hi.” Cassie’s heart gave its usual bump of excitement, betraying her as always. “What’s up?” she asked, trying to quell it as she clicked her knitting needles together.
“Kyle told me Sara’s doctor insists she gets off her feet more often so she has to cut back on baking.” Rick’s green-eyed gaze looked wary, as if she might lash out at him again. “I made a treat for the kids.”
“That was nice of you.” She strove to maintain perspective, desperate to keep this conversation from becoming personal, as so many others had. Rick Salinger already knew way too much about her. A little distance between them would be a good thing. “What did you make?”
“Devil’s food chocolate cake.” A smug look flickered across his handsome face.
“Is a minister supposed to be making devil’s food?” she asked, tongue-in-cheek.
“I don’t know if there are rules about cake. I didn’t check.” He set a large container on the table and revealed his masterpiece. “Four layers with double fudge frosting.”
“Show-off.” She chuckled at his obvious pride. “We’ll be lucky if we don’t all end up with diabetes after all that icing.”
She recognized that he was hovering, trying to gauge her mood, so she nodded toward the coffeepot.
“Help yourself and have a seat.”
“Thanks. Speaking of diabetes—how’s Bryan?” Rick poured himself a cup of coffee, then sat across the table from her and thrust out his long legs. “Or do you and I need to initiate phase two?”
“What’s phase two?” Cassie tilted her head to one side, curious even though she’d promised h
erself she would not be enticed by Rick’s charisma.
“I don’t know yet. I was waiting to see if we needed it before I came up with a plan.” His wink and the smile slashing across his rugged face lent him a rakish look that crushed Cassie’s resolve to keep her distance from Rick Salinger. “Maybe some kind of one-on-one intervention at my place that involves my lip-smacking elk burgers and sweet potato fries?”
“I had no idea you could get sweet potato fries up here.”
“Churchill isn’t exactly the end of the earth, you know.” He chuckled at her raised eyebrow. “If you have the moolah, you can get anything. I don’t have money, but I do have friends. One of them gave me some elk meat, and I brought a bag of sweet potatoes with me from Thompson a couple of trips ago.”
“I thought people usually brought back clothes or books,” Cassie teased. “You bring sweet potatoes?”
“Each of us has a secret vice. Mine is sweet potato fries.” As he smiled at her, a silence fell between them, and Cassie wondered if he, too, was thinking about what had happened at the fireworks.
Rick leaned forward to peer into her eyes. “You’re quiet. Are you worried about something?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest and waited. Cassie liked that he didn’t try to rush her.
“Not exactly worried,” she corrected. “More like confused.”
“About?”
“My father.” Cassie felt as if she was tiptoeing through a minefield as she tried to explain. “The other day you suggested I might have misunderstood what he said to me. I don’t think I did, but—”
“But on the off chance you did—” He smiled. “You want to be sure, is that it?”
Cassie nodded. “I’m not exactly sure how to find out.”
“I usually depend on God’s leading,” he said in a serious tone. “A little nudge of conviction deep inside often tells me when I need to right a wrong.”
“I don’t have any nudge of conviction. Certainly not from God,” Cassie muttered almost, but not quite, beneath her breath.
“Don’t you?” Rick’s smile flashed again. “Isn’t that exactly what your doubts are? When we begin to question something we thought was true, it’s usually a sign that we need to seek God’s guidance. Why don’t you try doing that?” Steel-strong assurance laced his voice. She envied him that. “God doesn’t let people down, Cassie. Not ever.”
He let me down, she thought.
“Refusing to forgive is an acid that eats at you,” he added very softly. “It hurts you most of all. If you can find a way to forgive, it allows your heart to heal.” He paused, his gaze holding hers. “I’m sorry for not being honest, Cassie. I should have told you as soon as I remembered. I didn’t because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it and I was afraid you wouldn’t want to be friends anymore.”
Cassie didn’t get a chance to respond. The boys burst into the house and ran into the kitchen, thrilled to find Rick sitting there. Cassie caught her breath at the pure delight that filled Rick’s face when he saw them. How was it that this man who obviously loved kids didn’t have any of his own?
Stop thinking about him. You can’t trust him, remember? Or maybe you can, but you shouldn’t. You’re not getting involved.
“Hey, guys.” Rick grinned when, as one, the boys froze, almost drooling as they gaped at his chocolate confection sitting on the table.
Cassie laughed when Michael whispered, “Is that edible?”
Rick faked an indignant frown. “I’ll have you know I baked that baby from scratch. With these hands.” He extended his arms, as if to prove it.
Cassie sat back as he cut and proudly served his cake. Her awe at his thoughtfulness grew when he handed Bryan a plate with an individual chocolate cake.
“This is sugarless, Bryan,” he murmured. “You can eat as much as you want.”
“Hey, thanks, man.” Bryan’s face lit up. While the other boys bickered good-naturedly about who got the biggest slice, Bryan sat happily devouring his own private cake.
Cassie glanced at Rick and caught him studying her. She inclined her head toward Bryan and smiled. Rick nodded, but his gaze remained on her. Uncomfortable under that unblinking stare, Cassie grabbed the scarf she’d been making and worked while the kids bantered back and forth.
“Homework?” she asked when a pause in the conversation allowed.
“None. We had an assembly this afternoon,” Rod answered. “We can play hockey until suppertime. Come on. Let’s go, guys.”
With a great deal of noise and shuffling, they cleared and loaded their dishes in the dishwasher, thanked Rick then hurried away. Noah left with them, but she noticed he hadn’t said a word. That didn’t bother her as much as the fact that he’d eaten only half his cake. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw him wince when Rod jostled his shoulder.
“Cassie, did you notice Noah?” Rick’s green eyes grew dark with concern. “His shoulder?”
“I noticed.” Seeing a mistake in the knitted row she’d just completed, she began tearing it out.
Rick sat down beside her. “What would you like to do?”
“I don’t know.” Cassie realized she was making a mess of her work so she set it aside. “Normally, Noah grumbles about every ache and pain, but he didn’t say a word today.”
“I’ll try to sound out the other boys. Maybe they know what’s up with him.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Are you okay? Or maybe I should ask if we’re okay.”
Cassie looked up into his eyes, her stomach doing somersaults at his use of the word we. She nodded, knowing what he meant. “We are. It’s all just confusing and complicated, and I’m not sure how to straighten everything out.”
Rick rose. “Well, I’m sorry if I contributed to that confusion.” Then, he gave her a heart-stopping smile and said, “Have some faith, Cassie.”
Faith? she thought as he left. Faith in what?
She didn’t trust God anymore. Faith in Rick? She wanted to trust him so badly. But she’d learned the hard way not to make herself vulnerable. So the only person she could have faith in was herself. And she had no answers.
With a heavy sigh, Cassie picked up the scarf-in-progress. As she began to work her needles, she realized that while Noah had left with the others, he hadn’t gone outside with them—he was standing by the back door. She decided she’d try to have a private talk with him.
But when she went to him, he wouldn’t let her get near. His face was ashen.
“Noah, what’s wrong?”
“N-nothing.” He stepped back, wincing when she touched him as if he were in pain.
“Honey, what’s wrong with you?” she asked as her fears multiplied. “Talk to me.”
“I t-think I have t-the flu. I’m going to m-my room.” Without another word, Noah went inside his bedroom and closed the door.
He refused to talk to her the rest of that evening. Cassie had never felt more alone. Laurel was buried in government forms. Sara and Kyle had their own issues with the coming of their baby. The only person left to confide in was Rick. Her reactions to him disturbed her, but she had to ignore that because she had to do something about Noah. Someone had hurt, was hurting Noah and she had to put a stop to it.
Cassie inhaled deeply then picked up the phone. “Rick? I need help.”
Ten minutes later she hung up with a sigh of relief. Surely Rick’s offer of a meal of elk and sweet potato fries would make Noah open up.
Thank heaven for Rick.
* * *
“Come on in. Welcome.”
The next evening Rick threw wide the door of his tiny cottage, shoved a box of old newspapers out of the way and stood back so Cassie and Noah could enter. “Sorry about that. I love reading the papers but I’m not faithful about getting them to the recycling center. You can lay your coats over that chair if you l
ike. I don’t have the luxury of a front hall closet.”
“You certainly have the luxury of a fantastic view,” Cassie said with a burst of enthusiasm. She quickly shed her outerwear, walked straight to the picture window overlooking the bay and peered out. “What are those things on the water?”
“Ice f-fishing h-huts,” Noah stammered.
“He’s right,” Rick said with a smile. “They pull a hut onto the ice, cut a hole in the ice, drop a fishing line and then wait for a fish to bite.”
“Really?” Cassie glanced at her son, surprised by his knowledge.
“The hut protects the fishermen from the wind. Some of them have heaters, too. There was a guy who even had a recliner in his. I call that fishing at a luxury level.”
Rick could tell just by looking at Noah that he was probably going to have to carry the conversation this evening. That was fine—he was prepared for that. He’d prayed for the chance to reach Noah. This was that chance and he was grateful for it.
“Have a seat,” he invited. “It will be a few minutes until dinner’s ready.”
“It smells wonderful.” Cassie sat.
“Let’s hope it tastes as good as you think it smells.” Rick sat down next to Cassie, waiting to see what Noah would do. Noah then sprawled in Rick’s favorite reading chair, no doubt attempting to create some distance. “So, how’s it going, Noah? Managing to make friends at school?”
“I g-guess.” Noah wouldn’t look at them.
“I was talking to a friend of mine who teaches and he says the school is starting some self-defense lessons. Do you think you might be interested in that?” Rick asked, hoping to keep the evening light so the boy would relax and maybe open up.
Noah lifted his gaze. “I d-don’t know,” he muttered after a sideways glance at his mother.
