Читать книгу Season of Redemption - Jenna Mindel - Страница 11
ОглавлениеChapter Two
How’d he get here? Really, how had this happened? Ryan took a seat in one chair of many that made a circle. The group session room at LightHouse Center looked sterile and cold despite the inspirational posters on the walls and potted plants on the windowsills.
Some of his fellow group members were a little rough around the edges. The young woman to his left might as well be a walking billboard for the tattoo shop in town. Another guy had a beard that shouted Willie Nelson impersonator. Seriously, they looked like they belonged here. He didn’t. And he had weeks of this to look forward to?
Clenching his jaw, Ryan glanced around. Where was that pretty intern? He wanted to tell her she’d made a big mistake. He’d read that report, and yeah, there was some scary truth to what she’d written, but that didn’t mean he needed this. He definitely didn’t want it..
He watched more people roll in and take their seats. Normal-looking people, professionals even. So far, thankfully no one he knew.
“I think we should get started.” John Thompson, the guy he’d met with briefly after hearing the verdict of his assessment, also sat down in the circle.
“We’ve got several new people,” John announced. “I’d like to go around the room and have everyone introduce themselves and state why you’re here. First names only. Everything said here stays here. Confidentiality and anonymity are crucial to the safety of the herd.”
Ryan would give anything to wring that intern’s neck. What color would her eyes turn then? The thought made him smile. And then he heard the silence and realized the group was waiting for him.
He slid back in his chair and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I’m Ryan and I don’t get why I’m here.”
The woman with the tattoos gave him a sarcastic once-over, like he was the loser. A couple of folks snickered.
“Okay, Ryan. Eventually, you will.” John didn’t like his answer. No surprise there.
John hadn’t liked any of his answers when they’d met to map out his master treatment plan. Ryan’s goal was getting this over with as soon as possible and meeting the condition of his sentence so the charges would be dropped. Period. He didn’t have a problem. Not a drinking problem anyway.
Then the guy slouching next to him answered, “Yeah. My name’s Pete, and what he said is good enough for me, too.”
“Honesty, folks.” John peered over his glasses at them before giving Ryan a pointed look. He had a short stack of papers attached to a clipboard, resting on his knee. “We’ll get nowhere fast with minimized answers.”
And so it went. Ryan steeled himself for the psychobabble that promised to fill his next hour and a half. By the time the group session was over, Ryan didn’t linger. He didn’t want to meet anyone. He didn’t want to chat over coffee. He wanted out of there.
Climbing into his truck, he started the engine and pulled out. He cringed at the squealing sound from his tires but kept driving—too fast. He had to get far away from all that. As far as he could go.
Okay, slow down and breathe. Just breathe.
A couple of miles out of town, he finally relaxed. He’d survived his first session. He could do this. He clicked the power button of the radio and fiddled with his preset tabs until he found a country station. The current song’s poor-me wails had him changing the channel to a contemporary Christian station. He tapped his fingers on the wheel as he listened to the soothing sounds of a rock-styled worship song.
How many times had he sung this song in church without a thought to the words? He felt a tugging at his heart but clicked off the radio.
Why, Lord? Why is this happening?
Ryan didn’t expect an answer. He didn’t get one either. He wasn’t exactly on solid speaking terms with the Almighty. Sure, sometimes Ryan talked—ranted usually—but rarely did he hear.
Maybe he didn’t listen hard enough, but empty silence had a way of shutting down a person’s prayers. Pain that wouldn’t go away did that, too. Yeah, his prayers had definitely dwindled in the last couple of years.
With a sigh, he kept driving until he spotted a small car with its hazard lights flashing. A woman sat on the hood with what looked like a cell phone in her hand.
“Stupid,” he muttered.
Why would a woman sit outside her vehicle on a lonely stretch of road when it was starting to get dark? All right, dusk hadn’t settled yet, but it was a dark and gloomy day. He couldn’t leave her all alone, so he slowed down and pulled over.
He got out of his truck and walked toward her with his hands open in an easy manner he hoped sent the message that he was okay. He was safe. “You need help?”
“Nope. I’m good. A tow truck is on its way.”
He recognized that husky, straightforward voice and stepped closer to the twenty-year-old Toyota Corolla that had a dent over the passenger side front tire. “Ms. Cavanaugh, you really shouldn’t sit out here like this. Anyone could come along.”
She looked up then and her eyes widened. Green. They looked green in the glow cast by his headlights. Her eyes darted nervously, too. “Ryan.”
“What happened?”
She slid off the hood and stood ramrod straight. “It sputtered and died. Look, you don’t have to worry. I called a tow truck.”
“When?”
“Just now.”
“I can’t leave you out here by yourself.”
“Sure you can. I’m fine.” Her shoulders straightened, but she didn’t look as confident as her tone sounded.
“I’ll wait with you till they come. In the meantime, why don’t you pop the hood and I’ll take a look.”
“Do you know anything about cars?” She reached inside the opened driver’s side window and did what he’d asked.
“I know engines. Do you happen to have a flashlight?”
“Umm, no. Just this one on my key ring.” She held up a little LED light.
“That’ll have to do.” He leaned over the car’s engine and looked around. “Point it this way.”
She did. And that brought her closer to where he stood. She smelled like fresh air and cinnamon gum.
“Does it turn over?”
“Does what turn over?” She looked confused.
Young and pretty, Kellie Cavanaugh perfectly fit the bill for a wild Irish rose complete with sharp little thorns that cut quick. Her reddish-brown hair was pulled back in a fat braid like the day he’d met with her. The wispy spirals around her face hinted at curls. What would all that hair look like loose?
Ryan refocused his thoughts. “The car. Why don’t you try and start it. Let me hear how it sounds.”
She climbed in behind the wheel and turned the key. The car ignited but wouldn’t start.
“That’s fine.” He held up his hand and then closed the hood.
She popped out of the car quick as a rabbit. “Do you know what it is?”
“Sounds like maybe your fuel pump. That’s my guess.”
She wrinkled her freckled nose. Definitely pretty. “Is that expensive to fix?”
He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Depends on what you consider expensive.”
She briefly closed her eyes. “Let’s just say the tow truck is expensive enough in my checkbook.”
He watched her closely. Her clothes were basic jeans and a sweater topped with a colorful scarf wound around her neck and a flannel-lined denim jacket that looked like it had seen better days. She’d dressed similarly at LightHouse Center.
He couldn’t stop the offer from coming out of his mouth. “I could take a look at it for you. Might be able to save you the cost of labor, at least.”
Her eyes shone with alarm and then she held up her hand. “No. Definitely not.”
He cocked his head. “Why not?”
“You’re a client of the agency where I intern.”
“So?”
“So it wouldn’t be right to take advantage of you to save a few bucks.”
He laughed out loud. “Take advantage? I offered. And I don’t know why considering you’re the one who put me there in the first place. Why’d you do that, Ms. Cavanaugh?”
She looked down at her booted feet. “My name’s Kellie.”
“Kellie, then.” He liked the sound of her name. Pert and to the point, it suited her.
Her movements were quick and jerky. Even standing still, she twisted the ends of that scarf with her fingers. Nervous energy or did he make her uncomfortable?
He tried again. “Why’d you recommend me for treatment?”
“This conversation is completely inappropriate.”
He laughed at that, but the sound came out harsh and bitter. “Why? It’s about me. I read your evaluation. You think I’m headed for, let’s see, how did you phrase it? Alcohol dependence due to a traumatic event in my recent history.”
Her eyes flashed with defensive annoyance. “I think you need help.”
He spotted the revolving red lights of the tow truck way down the road. “Yeah, well, so do you. How do you plan to get home once your car’s towed to the garage?”
“I’ll call...” She glanced at her watch, and her brow furrowed. “Maybe a cab.”
He shook his head. No way was he letting her travel miles back to town with a greasy tow guy alone, only to sit and wait outside the closed-for-the-day mechanic’s shop in town. Alone. “I live out this way. I’ll give you a lift.”
“No.”
“Don’t give me any guff about conflict of interest. You’re pinched for cash and I’m not about to let you go off by yourself. If something happened to you, I’d—” He broke off.
Her eyes challenged him. “Never forgive yourself?”
It would have stung less had she slapped him. Hard. “Yeah, that’s right. Do you want to be responsible for advancing my decline?”
“Nothing will happen.” But then her gaze wavered as she watched the big tow truck inch closer.
“You never know.” He crossed his arms and watched her. She deserved a little fear after what she’d put him through.
Her eyes widened and a chill seemed to shake her. Cold, or maybe she’d considered the possibilities and didn’t like the conclusions.
Upsetting her hadn’t given him the satisfaction he’d sought. Instead, he felt the urge to wrap his arms around her, pull her close and soothe her worries. Ryan had a feeling Kellie Cavanaugh carried around too many worries.
“If anyone finds out about this, I could get in big trouble.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re a client, and I’m an intern. I shouldn’t have any personal contact with you outside of a professional or community setting.”
He gave her an odd look. “I’m only giving you a ride home. It’s a neighborly thing to do in this community.”
“It looks bad.”
Ryan scanned the heavy woods on one side of the road and open fields of bare cherry trees on the other. “No one’s around to see and I won’t say a word, okay?”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. Give me ride.”
He’d called her bluff. And he’d made her mad to boot.
The tow truck slowed to a stop with a whoosh of air and the rattling idle of a diesel engine. If she worried about being seen with him, she might as well stay out of sight. “You’re cold. Why don’t you sit in my vehicle while I help this guy load up your car.”
She didn’t argue, even though she looked like she wanted to. Instead, she turned on worn-out work boots and headed for his truck.
He watched her. Whisper-thin, she held her chin high as she pulled open the door harder than needed and nearly knocked herself over in the process. Pert didn’t begin to describe Kellie Cavanaugh, and that made him smile.
* * *
Kellie fumed while she waited. She’d been totally unprofessional baiting Ryan that way. And riding home with him bordered on unethical. What was wrong with her?
She was tired. Tired from studying and even more tired of living on a shoestring budget. She glanced in the side mirror. Ryan walked toward her and the tow truck backed up. All done? That was fast.
She slipped out of the truck clutching her purse. “Wait, I need to pay the tow guy.”
Ryan waved her back. “Don’t worry about it. It’s all set.”
“What do you mean, it’s all set?”
“I know him.”
“What’s that mean?” She didn’t move.
Ryan gave her a harassed look. “It means what it means. Get in the truck.”
“Did you pay him? Tell me how much and I’ll pay you back.” Cash would be better, but she didn’t have anything more than a five in her wallet. She really shouldn’t write a check to a client.
Ryan stood in front of her, hands on his hips. “Will you just get in the truck?”
Kellie looked up at him. There was well over six feet of handsome man in front her and her heart took a tumble. She was supposed to be safer with him? Ha! She should have taken her chances with the tow guy.
She glanced down the road. Too late. Her car was already on its way to the only mechanic in LeNaro.
Ryan opened the passenger side door for her, and his expression softened. “Really, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” She narrowed her eyes.
“Sure it is. I won’t tell a soul.” Ryan leaned against the door dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt over a T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up on strong forearms.
She stared at those defined muscles for a second too long before looking back into his face. He was built solid as a brick wall but she felt safe. Protected.
Weird.
The breeze rustled the fallen leaves giving the growing darkness of dusk a spooky feel. She wouldn’t like walking on a night like this, that’s for sure. She finally nodded and climbed back in. “Okay.”
“Watch your feet,” he said before shutting the door.
She fumbled with her seat belt while he slipped in behind the wheel.
“So, where do you live?”
“A few miles down this road. 3312 Lakeshore.”
His eyebrows rose at the address and his expression soured.
She knew what he was thinking. Poor little rich girl living on the lake but can’t afford a tow truck? Well, she didn’t ask for his help and he could choke on paying her way.
Again, she gave herself a mental shake. What was it about him that dug so deep under her skin?
As they drove in silence, Kellie studied him. Ryan Marsh had a classic hero complex. No wonder he took his fiancée’s accident so hard. A guy like him would torture himself over not preventing it from happening.
Overprotective? You better believe it.
Overbearing? Yes, ma’am.
And way too easy to look at.
“What?” Ryan caught her staring.
“You can turn left after the next mailbox.” She pointed beyond the road, hoping to distract him from that quizzical look he gave her. Her cheeks felt way too warm.
He slowed down and then pulled into the long drive.
“You can let me out here.”
He kept going.
“Did you hear me? This is good.”
“Yeah, but I’d just as soon see you get in the door safe and sound.”
Yep, ridiculously overprotective.
Again, the image of him as a gallant knight ready to slay a lurking dragon flitted through her mind. It was a refreshing change from what she’d been used to—guys who didn’t even bother to open doors. Ryan reminded her of what she’d always dreamed of—a prince who’d rescue her from the darkness. She quickly shook away those girlish thoughts. She’d learned that fairy tales didn’t come true and had the scars to remind her of that.
He slowed to a stop, but the rumbling sound of his huge truck would no doubt alert her landlady to their presence.
“Great. Now I’ll have some explaining to do to Mrs. Wheeler.”
“Who’s she?”
Kellie savored the moment to rub his nose in her situation and wipe away his poor-little-rich-girl impression. “She’s the elderly lady I live with. Rent a room from actually.”
Ryan gave her a swift look of surprise. She’d scored a hit. “How are you getting to work tomorrow?”
None of your business. But Kellie smiled sweetly instead. “I have a bike.”
Again, another look of surprise. “A motorcycle?”
“No. A bicycle.”
He frowned.
“It’s not too far to bike to town. I’ve done it before.” Several times in fact, to save on gas money. She slipped out of the truck before he could respond. Before he could recommend a different solution. “Thanks for the ride.”
Running up the walkway to the porch, Kellie turned and waved. True to his word, Ryan remained parked in Mrs. Wheeler’s driveway until she slipped into the house.
“Mrs. Wheeler? I’m home.” Home—yeah right.
It had been years since Kellie knew what a real home felt like. When she and her brother were little, there’d been happy times in their Grand Rapids area home. Especially at Christmas, her favorite holiday. They’d pile into the car and drive north of the city to hike into the woods and chop down a tree. Kellie and her mom took hours to decorate it. And she’d drink and eat her fill of hot chocolate and Christmas cookies.
A slender, white-haired woman peeked around the corner. “Oh. Kellie. I’m glad you made it. I started to worry.”
That was nice of her, but Kellie knew better. Mrs. Wheeler was more concerned about having her home after dark so she wouldn’t be all alone in her big house.
“My car broke down, so I got a ride.”
“From who?” The elderly woman looked horrified.
“Someone from work.” That’s all her landlady needed to know.
“Good. A young girl like you can’t be too careful, you know.”
“True. And I am careful. Well, good night.” Kellie turned to go to her rented room but hesitated when it looked like her landlady wanted to say more.
“All right then. I’m headed for bed and the TV. I’m glad you’re home.” Mrs. Wheeler usually made her way upstairs at nine-thirty on the dot. Every night. Tonight, she was early. Surely, the woman hadn’t worried herself sick. Kellie wasn’t used to anyone worrying over her.
“Are you feeling okay, Mrs. Wheeler?”
“Just a little tired today.”
Kellie narrowed her gaze. The woman looked healthy as a horse. She gave her landlady’s arm a quick and awkward pat. “Okay then, sleep well.”
“You, too.”
Kelly headed up the back stairs to her room. She had her own bathroom and a makeshift kitchen set up with a dorm-sized refrigerator, hot plate and George Foreman grill. What more could a girl want?
A whole lot more.
In time, things would be where she wanted them to be. Right where she’d prepared for things to be. Years of putting herself through school with menial jobs and student loans lay behind her. A good future lay ahead.
If she got that job in Traverse City.
Kellie kicked off her boots, shrugged out of her jacket and scarf and settled on the lumpy futon couch situated between two long, thin windows that overlooked the driveway. She pulled out her phone and scanned the internet for Ryan’s name and address. She found an R. Marsh with an address near her own.
3410 Lakeshore Drive.
No way did he live only a few houses away from her. In fact, they’d passed his place to get to hers. How could she have not noticed his address on his assessment paperwork? But then, he’d unnerved her from the beginning.
She jotted down his address onto an envelope. She’d confirm it at outpatient and then, as soon as she got paid from her part-time job, she’d drop fifty bucks into his mailbox.
* * *
Saturday morning, Ryan stepped into the office of Three Corner Community Church. His new sister-in-law had told him he’d find his brother here preparing for Sunday’s sermon.
Sinclair looked up once he heard him coming down the short hallway. “Hey, Ryan, what’s up?”
“Do you have a minute?” Ryan wasn’t on easy terms with his brother. Not like they used to be.
Three years ago, Sinclair had dared Sara to mow an S in the grass growing on the side of a hill along the hayfield they were cutting. Sara’s tractor flipped and crushed her. And Sinclair had run off on a mission trip to Haiti a week after the funeral. He’d stayed there until only a few months ago.
“Yeah, sure.” His brother cocked his head to the side and waited.
Ryan sat down. He hadn’t seen much of his brother since he’d recently married Sara’s sister, Hope. Ryan was glad they’d finally gotten together, but watching them around the Marsh family dinner table reminded him too much of happier times. He didn’t want to dampen their happiness with his dark moods, so he’d stayed away.
Ryan spotted Sinclair and Hope’s wedding picture on the desk and his fists clenched. “I need to do some community service hours and wondered if you knew of a good place around here.”
Sinclair sat forward. “Actually, I have the perfect solution. A single mom in our congregation is having a house built by a nonprofit group of churches that builds homes for needy families. They could really use someone with your skills.”
Ryan nodded. He’d been picking away at refurbishing his cottage for over a year now. Other than minor finishing work, it was pretty much done.
His brother pushed a sticky note with contact information toward him. “This is the church in charge of the program, and Jeff is the guy who oversees the construction.”
“Thanks.” Ryan picked it up and slipped the note in his wallet.
“So, how’s it going?”
Ryan shrugged. “Not like I’d ever planned. Mom probably told you, but that agency I had to see recommended me for counseling. So, I’m stuck for the next couple of months.”
Sinclair steepled his fingers. “Maybe it will help.”
“Right.” Ryan narrowed his gaze. “What did you tell that intern?”
His brother didn’t look away. “I told her what happened to Sara. And I told her that we’re all worried about you.”
Ryan nodded. There were things about that day he didn’t want to revisit. It was hard enough blocking out the vision of his fiancée lying on the ground. Another thing entirely to keep from hearing her last words spoken over and over in his dreams. The feel of her last kiss...
“Man, I’m sorry about all this.” Sinclair covered Ryan’s hand.
Ryan pulled back and stood. “Yeah, me, too. Thanks for the info. I’ll check it out.”
He made his way to the door.
“Ryan?”
He turned and looked at his brother’s concerned face. “Yeah?”
“If you need anything, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
“Thanks.” Ryan nodded and left.
Sinclair hadn’t been around after the funeral when he’d needed his brother the most. When his life had stretched empty before him, Ryan had faced it alone knowing no one really knew what it had been like. Only Sinclair had been there the day of the accident. Only Sinclair knew what he’d gone through watching Sara die.
It was too late for talking out those feelings now.
Three years too late.
