Читать книгу A Heart's Refuge - Carolyne Aarsen - Страница 10

“How are you enjoying the West?” Colson Ethier’s voice sounded overly hearty as if he was trying to inject enthusiasm for his project into his guinea pig.

Rick cradled the phone in the crook of his shoulder as he made some quick notes on one of the papers spread out on the dining room table of his apartment. “The natives are restless and the weather is the pits.” Behind him the rain ticked against the glass of the kitchen window, as if testing it. Seeking entry. He had hoped to drive into the mountains this evening and do some photography, but the weather had sent him indoors.

“Have you met Sam and Cora Ellison yet?”

“Grandfather, the extent of my socializing has been to smile at the waitress at Coffee’s On.” And sitting around an empty apartment on weekends looking over spreadsheets and articles.

“How are you getting along with Becky?”

Rick rapped the table with his pen. “We’re not.”

A measured beat of silence then, “She’s a lovely girl.”

She was more than lovely. More than frustrating, too.

“I was hoping you two might get along,” Colson continued.

His grandfather sounded pained, and the suspicion that Rick had about Colson’s motives was immediately confirmed.

“Editors and publishers aren’t supposed to get along.” The timer on the microwave went off. “My supper is ready.”

“You better go eat then.” Colson Ethier paused, cleared his throat as if he wanted to say more. And quickly hung up.

Rick tossed the phone on the couch. “Goodbye to you, too, Grandpa.”

Rick couldn’t remember his grandfather ever saying goodbye. Since the age of seven, when the death of his mother put him into his grandfather’s guardianship, Colson would bring Rick back to the private boys’ school he was enrolled in, drop him off and drive away without a backward glance.

The housekeeper told Rick, Colson wasn’t comfortable around children, but Rick knew his grandfather was only uncomfortable around him. The evidence of his mother’s indiscretion. Consequently Rick and Colson didn’t spend a lot of time together, which cut down on the opportunities not to say goodbye.

Once Rick graduated and moved away to college, their farewells were limited to Christmas, Easter and occasionally Thanksgiving. So his grandfather’s new interest in Rick’s life was too little, too late.

Rick retrieved his dinner from the microwave sat down at the table and set his food in front of him. He paused a moment. Habit, more than anything. Colson Ethier always prayed before meals and had taught him to do the same. The boarding school he attended tried to instill the same religious beliefs.

After his mother died, Rick didn’t trust God much. Living on his own didn’t help. When he started traveling and started seeing what the world could be like for people less privileged, cynicism and reality slowly wore away any notions of a loving God in charge of the world.

Rick ate mechanically. The reheated food tasted lousy, but he had eaten so many different kinds of foods in so many different places that he had come to view it simply as fuel. A steady need that had to be responded to at least twice and, if he was lucky, three times a day.

Which reminded him, he had to talk to some of the restaurant owners about participating in a contest he hoped to run in conjunction with the launch of the new magazine. He’d had to scale down his original plan when he sat down with Trixie and the reality of the finances stared him in the face.

He dug through his papers and found his Day-Timer. It felt heavy in his hand and seemed fatter than usual. Frowning, he flipped it open.

The pages were crammed with scribbled notes written in every direction in various shades of ink. Butterfly stickers danced across the page and flowers decorated another. Phone numbers were written sideways.

He flipped back a page, scanning over the dates, trying to make sense of what he read. Was someone at the office playing a practical joke on him?

Then he saw his name, stopped and read, “What am I going to do about Rick?” The question was heavily underlined.

He read the words again, then checked the front of the folder. The initials R.E. were imprinted in the soft burgundy leather. He and Becky must have accidentally switched agendas.

Rick glanced over the rest of the pages, looking for other mentions of his name before he realized what he was doing.

Snooping. He closed the book with a guilty flush and set it on the table. He should let Becky know right away he had it. From the look of the jam-packed days, she was going to be lost without it.

“What am I going to do about Rick?”

The words snaked into his mind. Why had she written them?

He went back to the articles Gavin Stoddard had written.

“In order to move into the ‘new’ market, the Internet market, local business owners will need to rethink their calcified methods of doing business. The name of the game is education, or how to teach an old dog to double-click.”

Rick forced himself to concentrate on the rest of the column. But the little leather folder beside him drew his attention like a magnet.

“What am I going to do about Rick?”

What did she think she had to “do”? And what was the problem?

And why did he care?

“…this new way of doing business can be a boon for savvy business owners and a stumbling block to diehard traditionalists.” He continued to scan.

He wasn’t a problem that she had to solve, he thought, throwing down the paper in disgust. He was supposed to be her boss. If there was a problem to be solved, it was his problem with her.

His chair creaked as he pushed himself back from the table, dragging his hands over his face. He had too many things on his mind to be concerned with what his bossy editor thought of him. Tomorrow he was going to be attending a meeting with the chamber of commerce to talk about the magazine and its potential for the town. He had to get a speech ready, a spreadsheet together. He was operating on a shoestring budget and he didn’t think he was going to make the ends of the string meet, let alone keep them tied.

He dropped his supper dishes in the dishwasher, tidied the counter then went back into the dining room. As he straightened the papers on the table, he glanced at the burgundy folder again.

And opened it before he could convince himself otherwise.

While his agenda only had a week per page, hers had a page per day and held two months’ worth of booklets. Each page was crammed full of notes. She had a busier schedule than the prime minister.

He flipped the pages back to the day they first met, and started reading. “Met Rick Ethier, new boss and old enemy this morning. Too good-looking and I made a fool of myself. Of course I was late for important first meeting.”

Rick felt a moment’s surprise. He hadn’t imagined that brief spark of attraction after all, and the thought kindled a peculiar warmth that was extinguished with the words following. But “old enemy”?

“Got interview with premier.” Several exclamation marks followed that one. Obviously excited. “Call secretary and get background information.”

“Meeting with Rick. Again.” The hard double underline clearly showed her frustration. “Don’t like the direction but at least there is some. Praying for patience. Constantly.”

Prayers again.

He flipped the page over, skimmed over notices to call friends, an appointment with her hairdresser, a meeting that evening at the church, a reminder of another meeting the next night. Wondered who was the Trevor of “Trevor’s back,” written with a little heart beside it.

“Rick is driving me crazy.” No heart beside his name, he thought with a surprising flicker of envy. “He’s hired Gavin. Big mistake. Mom and Dad told me I need to pray for him. Said I need to see him as a child of God.”

Rick slapped the book shut and pushed himself away from the table. He knew he had made enemies at the magazine. If he’d had a couple of years to make the changes he wouldn’t have had to be so aggressive.

He glanced back at the Day-Timer. “I need to see him as a child of God” replayed through his head.

He wasn’t a child of God. Wasn’t a child of anyone.

He had to return this. Thankfully she’d written two phone numbers inside. No one was at home, so he tried her cell phone.

“Hey there.” Becky’s voice was almost drowned out by music and voices in the background.

“This is Rick,” he said, wondering what place in Okotoks could generate that volume of noise. “I think you’ve got something of mine.”

“Just a sec. Can’t hear you.” She said something unintelligible. The noise receded and was suddenly shut off. “Sorry about that. Who is this?”

“It’s Rick. I think you’ve got my Day-Timer,” he repeated.

“You’ve accused me of that before, but I’ll check.” A rustling noise and, “Oh, brother.” Deep sigh. “You’re right. This isn’t good.”

She was probably remembering some of the things she had written.

“Where are you now?” he asked. “I could meet you so we can swap.” He didn’t have time, but a mischievous impulse made him want to see her face when they made the exchange. Impulse and a bit of bruised pride. He didn’t usually generate hostility in the women he met.

“I’m at the church, but I can come over.”

“No. I’m not doing much. Where’s the church?”

She paused and Rick smiled. She was probably squirming in embarrassment. Then she gave him directions which he noted. “See you in a bit,” he said with a hearty cheeriness.

A short time later, Rick pulled up to the front of the church, surprised at how large and new it was. Obviously religion went over well in Okotoks. He jogged through the rain, avoiding puddles on the crowded parking lot. The noise he had heard through Becky’s cell phone grew as he approached the building.

What was happening on a Friday night at church? The services he occasionally attended with his grandfather were held in a large stately church on Sundays, and as far as Rick knew, not much else happened there.

This place had cars and trucks in the parking lot and kids running around the outside of the building in spite of the rain that poured down. He opened the large double doors and stepped inside, brushing moisture off his hair and face. A few young kids were hanging around the foyer laughing and roughhousing.

“Thomas, Justin and Kevin. If you’re done with youth group, leave. If you’re supposed to be practicing, get in there.” The woman who spoke was tiny but her authoritative voice even made Rick stop a moment.

“Sorry, Cora,” one of the kids said. The teens scampered into the auditorium, letting out another blast of noise as they yanked open the doors.

The woman walked toward him, smiling as she held out her hand. “Naturally I wasn’t talking to you. Welcome. I’m Cora Ellison.”

Her gray hair was cut bluntly level with her narrow jaw, her hazel eyes laughed up at him. Rick caught glimpses of Becky in the generous mouth and pert nose. He guessed this was Becky’s mother. “I’m Rick Ethier,” he said, returning her firm handshake.

“Well, now. Finally.” Cora took his hand in both of hers, her grin animating her face even more. “I told Becks to invite you over, but she always says you are too busy. And here you are. This is great.”

Her exuberant welcome puzzled him. It was as if she knew him, but he doubted her information came from Becky. Not if her Day-Timer were any indication of what she thought of him.

The door beside them opened up and Becky rushed out, her coat flying out behind her, her hands clutching a folder identical to the one in Rick’s coat pocket. She saw her mother and veered toward her. “Hey, Mom, I have to step out a moment…” Becky’s voice trailed off as her eyes flicked from her mother to Rick. He didn’t think he imagined the flush in her cheeks.

“Hello, Becky,” he said, tilting a grin her way. “I believe you have something of mine.”

Becky looked down at the folder in her hands and her flush deepened. “Yes. Here.” She shoved it toward him without making eye contact. Rick slipped it into his pocket.

“You were expecting him, Becky?” Cora Ellison asked.

Becky nodded. “We, uh, accidentally switched Day-Timers.” She glanced up at Rick, her expression almost pleading. “Can I have mine back?”

“Oh. Sure.” Rick enjoyed seeing Becky a little flustered. It deepened the color of her eyes, gave her an appealing, vulnerable air. But he took pity on her and handed her the leather folder. “Safe and sound.” Luckily he wasn’t easily embarrassed or he might be flushing, too, knowing he’d read private things.

Becky took it from him and glanced down at it as if to make sure it hadn’t been violated. If she only knew.

“Thanks,” she said, and was about to turn away when her mother caught her by the arm.

“Becky. Wait a minute. You should have told me Rick was coming.” Cora turned to Rick. “Now I can ask you directly. We’d like to have you over for lunch. What about this Sunday? After church?”

Rick stifled a smile at Becky’s panicked gaze. He guessed she didn’t want him over, which made him want to accept the invitation. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”

“I’m looking forward to having you,” Cora said, folding her arms over her chest in a self-satisfied gesture. “It will be like the closing of a circle.”

Rick frowned at her comment. “What do you mean?”

“Your grandfather lived in Calgary years and years ago. When he was a teenager. Apparently he used to come courting my mother in those days.” Cora winked at Rick. “Bet he never told you.”

And a few more pieces of the puzzle that was his grandfather fell into place. “No. He never did. Is your mother still alive?”

“More than alive. Right, Becky?” Cora asked, drawing a reluctant Becky into the conversation.

“She’s a character, that’s for sure,” Becky said. She gestured toward the closed doors of the auditorium. “Sorry, but I gotta go,” she said vaguely, taking in both her mother and Rick. “Practice.”

“I’ll see you Sunday,” Rick couldn’t help but say.

She turned to him, her eyes finally meeting his, her lips drifting up in a crooked smile. “Church starts at ten-thirty. See you then.”

He felt a reluctant admiration for how neatly she had cornered him. Church was one of the last places he wanted to be on a Sunday morning, but he couldn’t let her get the upper hand. Not after what he’d read. “I’ll be here.”

She held his gaze, as if challenging him. But when she left, Rick felt a curious reluctance to hang around any longer.

“I should get going, too,” he said. “Gotta get ready for tomorrow.”

Cora’s light touch on his arm surprised him. “I’m looking forward to finding out more about your grandfather. I like a mystery.”

“Nothing mysterious about Colson Ethier,” Rick said. Except for a twisted desire to send his grandson on a trip down his own particular memory lane. He would be talking to Grandpa Colson as soon as he got a chance. “I’ll see you Sunday. Thanks again for the invitation.”

Becky tapped her fingers against her chin as she glanced around the foyer of the church once more. Rick better show up soon or she was leaving. When Cora Ellison told her she should be the one to make sure he’s welcome, Becky only agreed out of a sense of guilt.

She shouldn’t have snooped in his Day-Timer. Not that she found anything out. He had a year’s worth of dates written in his immaculate handwriting and none were of a personal nature. The only phone numbers were business related. His life looked empty, unappealing and sterile.

“Don’t do it, Becks.” Leanne, her sister, caught her hand as it edged toward her mouth. “Your nails are just starting to grow back.”

“And since when do you care about my nails, Leanne?” Becky said with a quick grin, slipping her sister’s arm through hers.

“Since I’m wondering if you’re ever going to get a boyfriend again.”

“A manicure isn’t going to do it and you know it.”

“Oh, please, not another ‘look not for the beauty nor whiteness of skin’ lecture. I get them enough from Mom.” Leanne squeezed her sister’s arm. “If you spent more time on your hair and makeup, you’d get a guy lickety split.”

“That’s a little simplistic. Besides, I have lots of guys.”

“But they’re all just friends,” her sister complained. “I can’t believe you don’t care about guys. I know Trevor didn’t break your heart that much.”

“He only dented it a little.”

“So why don’t you two go out again? I heard he’s back.”

“Trust me, he’ll be gone once the snow flies. I’m not going to date some guy who is just hanging around here, waiting for a chance to leave. This is my home and this is where I want to live.”

“If you found the right guy, I’m sure he’d be able to talk you into leaving.”

Becky tapped her little sister on the nose. “You see, that’s the problem. The right guy for me is one who doesn’t want to leave.”

Leanne pulled back, frowning. “I think I get it.”

“Let me know when you do.”

“So how long do we have to wait for this Rick guy?” Leanne said, brushing her long brown hair back from her face. “I promised Donita I’d sit with her.”

“Just a few more minutes.” Becky glanced at her watch, hoping Rick wouldn’t show. Now, or for lunch after church. But what she hoped even more was that he hadn’t read her Day-Timer. Like she’d read his.

“Okay, Becks. New guy alert.” Leanne tugged on her arm, her eyes riveted to the door. “Shaggy hockey hair. Nice mouth. Gorgeous eyes.” Leanne added a dramatic sigh. “He’s wearing a suit, but otherwise he’s movie-star adorable.”

Becky glanced toward the object of her sister’s gushing. And straightened as disappointment and a tingle of anticipation flitted through her. Rick’s suit gave him an authoritative air at odds with the haircut, or lack of it, that was currently labeled “hockey hair”—long enough to hang out the back of a hockey helmet. “He’s also my boss.”

Leanne’s mouth dropped. “That’s Rick Ethier?”

“Let’s go say hi and get that part over and done with.” Becky snagged her sister’s arm, and walked purposefully toward him.

Rick stood in the doorway, looking, she had to concede, a little lost in the wave of people drifting past him.

Someone caught her by the arm, halting her progress. Louise, a woman from one of the committees Becky was involved in. “Becky. Just wanted to know if you’ve had a chance to go over that banner idea Susan put together.”

“Not just yet. I’ll check it out this afternoon,” Becky said.

“I was thinking we could get your sister to help sew it.”

Becky nodded, keeping an eye on Rick.

“Sorry, Louise,” Leanne said, rescuing her. “We’ve got to catch someone before he leaves.”

And it looked like he was about to. He had his hand on the door when they caught up to him.

“Good morning, Rick,” Becky said, catching his attention. He turned to them and for a moment Becky saw a flicker of an unknown emotion in his blue eyes. Relief? Disappointment?

“Welcome to the service,” Becky said with a forced smile. “Mom asked me to make sure you were properly greeted when you came.”

Rick smiled back. “Well, tell your mother thanks.”

“You can tell her yourself,” Leanne said, glancing from Rick to Becky with avid interest. “You’re supposed to sit with us.”

Becky flashed her sister a warning glance, but Leanne studiously ignored her sister, her entire attention focused on Rick.

“By the way, Rick,” Becky said, wishing her sister was more circumspect. “This is my little sister Leanne.” Becky put heavy emphasis on “little” hoping she would get the hint.

But Leanne just ignored Becky.

“That’s okay. I’m sure I can find a place,” Rick said.

“No. Come and sit with us.” Leanne touched Rick on the shoulder, winking at Becky. “That way we don’t have to find you after church. Makes sense, doesn’t it, Becky?”

“Perfect sense,” Becky said dryly. “Now we better go.”

“Becky is going to be singing in the worship service later on. She’s got a great voice,” Leanne said as Becky led the way through the crowd.

“I’m looking forward to hearing her,” Rick said.

Becky’s heart sank at his words. When she had maneuvered him into attending church she had forgotten she would be singing this morning.

And when she saw her family all sitting together, she regretted her impulse even more.

Just about the whole shooting match was watching her as she and Leanne led Rick up the aisle to the empty spot beside her parents. The only ones missing were Colette and her boyfriend, Nick.

“Hey Dad. Mom,” Becky said, flashing her brothers and sisters a warning look to dampen their sudden interest in the man behind her. As if that would help. Her family was as curious as magpies and just as nosy. Becky showing up with a man in tow was going to cause a lot of chatter and unwelcome questions.

She dropped onto the pew, and started reading the church bulletin as if trying to show them by her disinterest that he meant nothing.

But Leanne, the little stinker, had positioned Rick so he was sitting right beside Becky.

“Are you going to introduce us?” her father asked, nudging Becky.

Becky looked up at her father with a pleading expression, but his steady gaze reinforced years of ingrained manners. So with a reluctant sigh she turned to Rick, but he was looking away from her.

She touched him lightly on his arm to get his attention. He turned to her then, his eyebrows arched questioningly.

“Rick, I’d like you to meet my father, Sam Ellison. Dad, this is Rick Ethier. And my mother, Cora, you already met.”

Cora leaned over and waved, then turned as her attention was drawn by one of the kids behind her. Sam leaned past Becky, shaking Rick’s hand. “Pleased to meet you finally. We’ve heard about you from Becky, of course.”

“Really?” Rick’s gaze flicked back to Becky, his eyes glinting. “I didn’t think she gave me a second thought once she left the office.”

Not only second thoughts. Third and fourth ones, as well.

Duty done, Becky returned to her reading. But her entire attention was focused on the man beside her.