North Country Family

Shifting under her intense stare, Rick knew there was more to her question than simple curiosity. He glanced around, saw Noah seated in a corner with the luggage, earbuds back in place.

“I prayed for the right words, Cassie. If they hit home it was because God used them, as He used you,” he added.

“Me?” she said, almost rearing back in surprise.

“You treated Bryan as if he were Noah,” he said softly. “You cared for him with love and tenderness. He felt that. All I did was try to help him see that not everything in his life is bad. There is good in the world if he’ll only drop his defenses and accept it.”

“But the words you used—” Her voice trailed away.

“Lives Under Construction is a new beginning for Bryan,” Rick reminded her. “He’s away from whatever circumstances got him into this situation. He can start over, if he wants to. It’s the same for you and Noah, isn’t it? It doesn’t really matter what brought you here. What matters is what you do with this opportunity.”

She studied him until they heard the sound of footsteps in the hall.

“Rick, you’re home,” a warm voice said. A slim, obviously pregnant woman embraced him, then turned to Cassie. “I’m Sara Loness,” she said stretching out a hand. “I’m the head cook. Welcome to Lives.”

“Thank you. I’m Cassie Crockett.” Cassie shook Sara’s hand then nudged Noah who finally rose. “This is my son, Noah.”

After Sara greeted Noah, Rick explained what had just happened.

“Poor Bryan. I’ll make sure supper doesn’t have a lot of sugar,” Sara assured him.

“And you should probably keep those away from him,” Rick said, eyeing the platter of cinnamon buns on the counter. “But not from me.”

“Why is it some people can eat whatever they want and never gain an ounce?” Sara smiled at Cassie. “I made extras,” she said to Rick as she set plates and forks on the table.

“Thanks.” Rick nudged Noah to the table then held Cassie’s chair. Rick took note of the fact that Cassie startled a bit when his hand accidentally brushed her shoulder.

“I thought I saw a skating rink outside,” Cassie said, her voice betraying nothing.

“Sara’s husband, Kyle, made it. He’s just coming in.” Rick waited until his friend entered the kitchen. Then he introduced Cassie and her son. “Kyle’s the activities director at Lives. He and I are teaching the kids hockey. It fosters cooperation, patience, a whole host of things.” Rick suddenly felt restless under Cassie’s scrutiny, as if he was being assessed for something, though he couldn’t imagine what.

“Want to join us?” Kyle asked Noah.

“I n-never p-played hockey,” Noah muttered.

“Between Rick and Kyle, who are the biggest hockey addicts in the world, you’ll soon learn,” Sara teased. “Do you like milk with your cinnamon buns?” Noah’s eager nod made her laugh. “So does Kyle. What about your mom?”

“Sh-she’s on a d-diet so s-she won’t g-get f-fat.” Noah actually grinned when the others burst into laughter.

“Noah Crockett! I am not.” Cassie flushed a rich red.

“Bad mistake, Noah, my man,” Rick told him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Let me give you some advice. Never mention the words fat or diet in the presence of a woman.” He leaned over and whispered very loudly, “It makes them grumpy.”

Cassie and Sara shared a look.

“Here come the rest of the boys,” Sara said. “They were at a sledding party.”

When the current residents trooped into the kitchen, Sara introduced Cassie and Noah. “These fine fellows are Barry, Rod and Peter,” she said. “Michael and Daniel won’t arrive until tomorrow and Bryan is upstairs with Laurel,” she explained to the boys. “He’s not feeling well. I suppose you’re not hungry in the slightest after the sledding party.”

As one they began to protest.

Sara grinned. “Yeah, dumb question. After you wash you can join us.”

As they rushed to comply, Kyle left to answer the phone. Rick noted Noah hadn’t engaged any of the other boys, simply nodding at the introduction and returning to his music.

Rick knew why. That stutter was going to cause problems.

The first time he’d spoken to Noah he’d felt a familiar nudge in his heart. Experience told him that was God’s prodding and it meant he was to help Noah. But how?

A moment later he had his answer.

When Sara disappeared inside the walk-in cooler leaving them alone, Rick decided to sound out Cassie while her son was still involved in his music, before the others returned.

“Noah told me his dad killed himself,” he murmured. “That must have been very hard for you.”

Her whole body dropped as if he’d settled a weight on her shoulders. Silence stretched between them. Finally Cassie spoke.

“Very hard, but harder on Noah, I think.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help,” he offered.

It was obvious Cassie struggled to accept his offer. But after a long moment, she nodded.

“There might be.”

“Just name it,” he said.

“Would you be able to talk to Noah the same way you talked to Bryan?” Cassie asked in a hushed voice. “He’s been hurting, trying to understand why his father would do that. I can’t seem to reach him. But you might, the way you did with Bryan.”

Rick’s heart swelled with compassion for this mother’s hurting heart.

“Please?” she whispered.

“I don’t know that it will make any difference, Cassie, but I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help Noah,” Rick said, just before the other boys burst into the kitchen. He leaned closer. “The offer is open to you, too, if you want.”

She shut down—there was no other way to express it. “Thank you, but I don’t talk about the past. I appreciate whatever you can do for Noah, though.”

It was a warning. Back off. And yet as he sipped the coffee Sara had served him, Rick knew he was going to have a hard time doing that. Her husband’s suicide had affected her whether she admitted it or not. He had a hunch that refusing to discuss it was doing just as much damage to her spirit as it was to Noah’s.

Don’t get involved, his brain chided again.

She’s hurting, his soul answered. Am I not here to help others? How else can I make amends for my past?

His brain was ready with a retort.

Is it only amends you want to make? Aren’t you also trying to impress her?

His conscience reminded him that he needed to keep his motives clear, to focus on his mission.