Читать книгу North Country Family - Lois Richer - Страница 10

Chapter One

“My dad’s d-dead.”

Rick Salinger ignored the December snowscape outside to study the face of the stuttering boy slouched on the train seat next to him. They’d been talking for the past half hour.

His heart ached for both Noah and his father, but at the moment he felt most saddened by the knowledge that Noah’s father would never get to see his son grow and change. That sadness came from the knowledge that Rick would never get to see a son grow and change, either. He would never have a family. Because he didn’t deserve one.

“My d-dad stole f-from our ch-church.” Noah rubbed one eye then put his glasses back in place. “Th-then he k-killed himself. M-mom said he was t-too a-ashamed to t-tell us.”

Rick wanted to hug the kid, but Noah’s rigid expression said he wouldn’t tolerate that.

“My f-father died r-running away. And now that’s wh-what we’re d-doing, too.”

“Running away?” Rick stared at him, surprised by the disgust in the boy’s voice.

“My m-mom calls it s-starting over,” Noah muttered.

“That’s way different than running away.” Rick frowned when the boy shrugged. He tried a different approach. “You and your mom must miss your dad, Noah.”

“M-my mom m-maybe. She c-cries when she th-thinks I c-can’t hear her, but I d-don’t cry for him.” Noah’s fingers tightened around his iPod.

“I’m really sorry,” Rick told him sincerely. He suppressed a groan. What an inane remark. “That’s not much help, is it? But you can pray about it.”

“I don’t p-pray,” Noah said, an edge tingeing his voice. “N-not anymore.”

“That’s too bad because God hears the prayers of His kids,” Rick said softly.

“Maybe He h-hears but He d-doesn’t answer.” Noah turned his head away.

“God always answers, Noah.” A yearning to help this angry, fatherless boy swelled deep inside Rick. “You know, a lot of us make mistakes that we wish we could undo. But that doesn’t mean God doesn’t hear our prayers.”

“Then wh-why doesn’t He m-make things d-different?” Noah demanded.

Rick had asked himself that same question a thousand times, mostly whenever he was reminded of his last days as a stockbroker, right after he’d made that last, greedy, too-speculative gamble and lost his clients’ money. Seniors, single parents, a fund to help the needy—they’d all put their trust in wonder broker Rick Salinger. And because he was so desperate to prove he was better than the no-account street kid he’d been, he’d skipped the due diligence and invested in a scheme that cost them everything.

With that memory came waves of guilt. For a moment he got sucked into it. Then he shook it off, forcing himself to focus on Noah.

“You want God to wave a magic wand and make it all better?” When Noah nodded, Rick smiled. “That would be nice, but I think God wants us to learn from our mistakes.”

Noah didn’t look convinced. “How do you kn-know for sure?”

“Because God is a loving Father who wants the best for His kids.” Rick stifled a laugh at the look on Noah’s face. Clearly the kid had no love for members of the clergy.

“My g-grandfather is a minister, t-too,” he said after a long silence.

Rick waited for more information but Noah just added, “I wish m-my mom would w-wake up. I’m s-starving.”

As if in answer, an anxious voice across the aisle, two rows back, called, “Noah?”

Rick watched Noah’s shoulders tense. He waited for the boy to answer. When he didn’t, Rick said, “He’s here. With me.” He half rose to identify himself and immediately got caught in the worry-filled stare of the loveliest brown eyes he’d ever seen.

A woman who looked too young to be the mother of this boy stood. She passed a hand over her jeans, straightened a sweater that accentuated the golden glints in her eyes then stepped into the aisle. Her blond hair caressed her cheeks in tumbled layers of tousled curls as she raked a hand through them.

He knew that face.

Rick scrambled to remember where he’d seen her before but came up blank. He was positive that he knew her, though Noah’s mother didn’t seem to know him. She barely glanced at him before she hunkered down beside her son.

“You were supposed to tell me if you were going somewhere, Noah.”

Rick immediately understood that the harshness he heard in her voice came from the fear still lingering in her eyes. A mental image of her—younger, without the worry, carefree and happy—flashed through his head.

Where did that come from?

“S-sorry, Mom,” Noah muttered. He didn’t sound sorry.

“Noah didn’t want to wake you so he moved over here. We’ve been chatting to pass the time.” He thrust out a hand. “I’m Rick Salinger.”

Instantly a barrier went up in her cocoa-toned eyes. After several moments’ hesitation she slid her small hand into his for about half a second then immediately pulled it away.

“Cassie Crockett,” she said with her chin thrust forward. “I’m sorry Noah bothered you.”

“He didn’t— Just the opposite, actually. Did you know your son is a cardshark?” Rick was certain he’d never met anyone named Cassie Crockett so he couldn’t possibly know her, and yet that face...

Rick regrouped and grinned at Noah. “He beat me in six straight games of hearts.”

“I’ve been there.” A smile flickered at the corner of her lips. “Humbling, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Rick agreed, wanting to see what a real smile looked like on Cassie Crockett. “But I was glad to have someone to talk to. Seventeen hours from Thompson to Churchill makes for a long ride, even if this part of northern Canada is the best of God’s creation.” He paused then asked, “Have we met before?”

“No.” Short and succinct, her answer flew out almost before he’d finished asking the question.

“I don’t mean to push it, but you seem very familiar to me,” he said.

“I assure you, I have never seen you before.” She held his gaze, dark brown sparks in her eyes defiant.

“I’m h-hungry, Mom.” Noah looked at Rick, and seemed to sense an ally. “I b-bet Pastor Rick is hungry, t-too. We want b-breakfast.”

“Pastor?” Cassie’s voice squeaked. Her heart-shaped face paled as her eyes narrowed.

“H-he’s a minister in C-Churchill.” Noah seemed either unaware of or unconcerned about his mother’s reaction.

“I am.” Rick sensed that a change of subject would be helpful. “They serve a passable breakfast on board, Mrs. Crockett.” He smiled again, hoping to allay whatever fears made her tense. “I could show you the way.”

“That’s okay,” she said, her voice colder than before. “We’re not ready yet.”

“I’m r-ready, Mom,” Noah contradicted.

“We have to clean up first.” Cassie’s brow furrowed as she studied her son. “Your hair needs combing.”

“Then c-can we have breakfast with P-pastor Rick?”

Noah’s blue eyes begged her, but Cassie seemed to be searching for an excuse not to join him, so Rick gave her an out.

“Maybe I’ll see you there.” He grinned at Noah. “It was nice meeting you. Thanks for the card game.”

“It was n-nice m-meeting you, too,” Noah responded. “T-thanks for telling m-me about Churchill. If we g-go to a r-restaurant, I’m g-going to order c-c-caribou.”

“Good. But if anyone offers you muktuk, make sure it’s fresh.” Rick hid his smile and waited for the inevitable question.

“Wh-why?”

“Whale skin and blubber are best eaten fresh.” Rick chuckled at Noah’s dismayed look. “It’s actually not bad when you get used to it.” Then he nodded at Cassie. “Excuse me.”

Apparently Cassie hadn’t realized she was blocking his way. Her cheeks flamed bright pink as she stepped out of the way and beckoned to Noah to follow.

Rick tried not to hear their discussion as he waited for another passenger to move out of the aisle, but it was difficult not to eavesdrop.

“Why d-didn’t we go with Pastor R-rick, Mom? I’m s-starving.” Noah’s stutter seemed to worsen with his temper. “I w-want to g-go n-now.”

“Noah, behave.” Cassie sounded irritated. “We’ll go for breakfast soon, but not if you’re going to make a fuss. That is not how a Crockett behaves,” she said softly, almost too softly for Rick to hear.

“Mrs. P-Perkins said all C-crocketts behave b-badly,” Noah muttered in a sullen tone.

“Mrs. Perkins was wrong.” Cassie sounded desperate to shush her son.

“Th-that’s what she said about y-you,” Noah retorted. “Sh-she said you m-made the b-b-biggest mistake of your l-life.”

Able to finally move forward to the dining car, Rick couldn’t hear Cassie’s response. Noah’s words had raised a thousand questions in his mind—but first and foremost was this: Why, when she’d learned his profession, had she shrunk away from him as if he had the plague?

That question was quickly followed by another: Why did her offended look bother him so much?

In the dining car, Ned Blenkins stood waiting to take his order.

“Nice to see you again, Preacher. Same as usual?” Ned asked with his cheery smile.

“Yes, please.” Rick accepted a cup of coffee.

“Won’t take a minute,” Ned promised.

Rick carried his steaming cup to the only empty table. Though most of the other passengers had finished their meals and now lingered over coffee, no one invited him to join them. He took a seat, reminding himself that eating alone didn’t bother him. He deserved a lot worse than a solitary breakfast, he thought with a pang of fresh guilt.

Rick had seen most of the other people in the dining car around Churchill, though not in his church. He knew each member of his small congregation personally, and he suspected they all knew about his ugly past. In a small town like Churchill there were few secrets.

He’d been very honest in telling the hiring committee how he’d lost every dime of his own and that of every client who’d trusted him. He’d also told them how he’d found God, and of his vow to serve Him in an effort to rectify the wrongs he’d done. Though none of his parishioners had ever confronted him about it, Rick figured it was the reason why he hadn’t attracted any new parishioners. Who wanted to attend the church of a man who’d caused such harm?

As he waited for his breakfast, Rick glanced at the paper his neighbor was reading. His heart took a nosedive when he saw the headline of a small piece in the bottom right corner—“Local couple loses bid to sue publisher for risky book on investing.”

“Not again,” his soul cried.

He grabbed the paper off his own table and read the entire section. The leaden weight in his stomach grew as he read about a young couple desperate to have children. They needed money for fertility procedures. Now they were homeless because they’d mortgaged their house and sold everything they owned to invest their money after they’d read a book called Untold Riches in the Stock Market. Rick had written the book under the same pseudonym the publisher had used for six other how-to books in the same series. It was doubtful his authorship would ever be made public because Rick had signed a confidentiality agreement. But that didn’t ease any of his guilt.

Almost five years later and there were still ramifications. Worse, he was powerless to stop it.

He read that the court ruled that though the book offered risky—perhaps even foolhardy—advice, the advice was not illegal and the lawsuit had been dismissed.

Oh Lord, he prayed silently. How can I ever atone for all the pain my greed has caused?

Overwhelmed by guilt, Rick had promised God that last day at the seminary that he’d give up his most precious dream—he’d clung to it all through the years he’d scrabbled to stay alive on the streets of Toronto—the dream of having a home and a family. Those two things were all he’d ever wanted—a place to call his own, and people who loved and cared for him.

It had cost Rick dearly to sacrifice that dream, but every time he learned of someone else who’d suffered because of him, he renewed his vow. It was his way of showing God he was worthy of His love.

But was he?

Defeat nagged at Rick as he thought about the eight months he’d been ministering in Churchill. By most measures, the lack of new members in his church probably meant he was a failure as a minister. But he’d promised God he’d serve where he was placed and for now, that place was Churchill. All he could do was his best until God sent him somewhere else.

“Eggs over easy with bacon.” Ned set the loaded plate in front of him.

“Thanks, Ned.” Rick palmed him a generous tip.

He’d barely lifted his head from saying grace when the door burst open and Noah stalked in, followed by Cassie. She quickly realized there was no empty table and frowned. Her brown eyes narrowed as she endured curious stares.

“Come and join me,” Rick invited, rising. Noah didn’t even glance at his mother for permission before he strode over. Cassie followed more slowly.

“We don’t want to bother you,” she said.

“You’re not,” he assured her. “You’re welcome here.”

Cassie hesitated.

“Come on, Mom. I’m s-starving.”

Cassie ignored Noah, her gaze locked on Rick. She studied him for what seemed like ages before she inclined her head in an almost imperceptible nod.

“Thank you. We’d like to join you.” She laid a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “On a scale of one to ten, how hungry are you?”

“F-fourteen.” Noah slouched on the chair beside Rick as Cassie turned to place their order. His eyes widened at the sight of Rick’s plate. “F-four eggs?”

“I guess I’m an eighteen on your scale.” Rick laughed at Noah’s surprise but his gaze was already back on Cassie as she made her way toward Ned. He could still smell her fragrance. Whatever it was, it suited her. Soft, very feminine with a hint of spice. Feisty.

You’re thinking about this woman entirely too much. Do not get involved.

“W-won’t you get f-fat?” the boy asked, his forehead pleated in a frown.

“I hope not.” Rick hid his smile. After reading that article he was no longer hungry. He offered Noah the plate with the extra toast he’d ordered. Noah selected one half slice.

“Mrs. P-Perkins said my m-mom is f-fat,” he muttered.

“No offense, but I think Mrs. Perkins, whoever she is, must need glasses.” Rick smiled. “Your mom is beautiful,” he added.

“I g-guess s-so.” Silence reigned as Noah devoured his toast.

Cassie returned a few moments later with two glasses of juice and a cup of coffee. She raised one eyebrow at Noah when he reached for a second slice of Rick’s toast but said nothing as she set the juice in front of him.

“Th-that’s it?” Noah demanded. He looked at Rick sadly. “M-maybe I’m f-fat.”

When Cassie chuckled, Rick focused on her face. Again he tried to recall where and when he’d seen her before, but, truthfully, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that here was a kid who’d lost his dad and a woman who’d lost her husband, and there was something wrong between them. Maybe he could help. Maybe, if he could, he would find a measure of peace.

Churchill was his proving ground. If he couldn’t do God’s work here—if he couldn’t help this community or kids like Noah—what good was he? And if his ministry failed, how could he ever earn forgiveness? Failure in Churchill meant it was doubtful another church would give him a chance.

God, I came here to make amends. Please help me do that for these hurting hearts.

But even if Rick could help this mother and son, he knew he’d never earn redemption.

* * *

“They have to cook your breakfast, Noah. It’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Cassie sat, her brow furrowing as she leaned near Noah’s ear. “Please stop repeating things Mrs. Perkins said. I know she was angry. A lot of church members were. But most of what she said isn’t true.”

“Wh-which part is t-true?” Noah asked in a sour tone.

Cassie gave him a chiding look. She sipped her coffee and worked hard to look anywhere but at Rick. That green-eyed stare of his saw too much.

“Are you two visiting Churchill for long?” Rick smiled.

“We’re n-not v-visiting.” Noah eyed Rick’s remaining slice of toast. Rick nodded. “M-my mom’s going to work at l-luck.”

Noah’s struggle to get the word out pierced Cassie’s heart. The pain doubled when Noah noticed the other patrons’ stares and ducked his head in shame.

“Luck?” Rick shook his head. “I don’t think I know it.”

“Lives Under Construction—LUC. It’s a rehabilitation facility where troubled boys are sent to serve their time in the justice system. We shortened it,” Cassie explained.

“Very clever. And I am very familiar with Lives—that’s the shortened form we use here.” He smiled at Noah’s wide eyes when Ned set a loaded platter in front of him. “Here’s your breakfast.”

“N-not s-sure if I’m th-that hungry, Mom,” the boy said.

“I thought we could share, especially since you ate Mr., uh, Pastor—his toast.” Cassie felt her cheeks heat up. Why did this man fluster her? “I’m sorry but I don’t know what to call you.”

“Rick will do just fine.”

“Rick it is.” Cassie accepted an empty plate from Ned with a smile of thanks. She liberated an egg, a slice of toast and one strip of bacon from Noah’s plate.

“Mrs. Crockett, are you the nurse Laurel’s been expecting?” Rick’s green eyes flared with surprise.

“Yes.” Cassie added no other information. She figured his surprise now equaled hers, when she’d found out he was a minister. With his short, spiky dark hair, day-old chin stubble and that easy grin that embraced everyone, Rick looked nothing like the ministers she knew. “How did you know?”

“Laurel told me she’d hired someone.” Rick must have understood the question on her face because he added, “Laurel Quinn and I are good friends. I go to Lives Under Construction a lot to work with the boys.”

“Oh. Then you probably also know she has three clients with special needs arriving. The government insists she have a medical person on the premises to monitor their care.” Cassie tasted her bacon and toast before continuing. “I’m also hoping to work a few shifts at the hospital while the boys are in school.”

“That shouldn’t be an issue. The health center can always use more help and the Inuit Transient Center will welcome you with open arms.” Rick’s attention slid to Noah who, having cleaned his plate leaned back in his chair. Rick smiled.

“Something about my job amuses you?” Hearing the belligerence in her voice, Cassie wished she’d controlled it. But she’d endured mockery once too often recently from people who claimed to be her friends and then doubted her.

“No, ma’am. Something about him amuses me.”

Rick chuckled when Noah drained his juice glass and smacked his lips. “Feel better?”

“Much.” Noah grinned.

Cassie’s heart brimmed with adoration for this child of hers. Noah, twelve, had suffered deeply and dealt with so much since Eric’s death. She’d made this move to Churchill hoping to restore the fun-loving kid he’d been before his father’s death and the two years of misery that had followed.

Cassie suddenly noticed Rick studying Noah with an odd look. Was that longing in his forest-green eyes? As she wondered if he had any children of his own, a hundred questions about Rick Salinger suddenly swarmed her.

You can’t trust him, she thought. You trusted Eric and your father and they weren’t there for you. Eric never even confided in you about losing those church funds. And then he was too proud to face his mistakes. You’ve paid for that a hundred times over and so has Noah. Now it’s time to get on with your lives. Alone.

Cassie shut off the painful reminders. “Are there many churches in Churchill?” she asked.

Rick blinked and the shadows in his eyes dissipated.

“Four at the moment. Mine is the smallest.”

“Because?” She chewed on a slice of toast while she waited for his answer.

“That’s hard to say.” He frowned. “It’s either because I’m not very good at my job or because I’m not giving the kind of message people want to hear.” He shrugged. “I’ll leave it to you to decide, Cassie.”

So different than her father. He would have insisted it wasn’t his fault, that people were too hard-hearted to hear the truth. She liked that Rick took responsibility.

“I’m sure folks will come around in time,” she murmured.

“I hope so, but that’s God’s job.” He smiled, clearly comfortable in his skin. That also made a positive impression on Cassie. Too many people were out to impress and didn’t care who they hurt in the process. That’s why she’d stopped trusting.

That’s why she’d come to Churchill.

“W-will we go to P-pastor Rick’s c-church, Mom?” Noah asked.

“We’ll see.” The age-old parental response her father had always given seemed to fit. When she glanced up, she found Rick’s attention on her again. From the speculative way he studied her, she thought he knew that he wouldn’t be seeing them in his pews anytime soon.

“W-we haven’t gone to ch-church for a long t-time,” Noah mused, staring out the window. His forehead pleated in a frown of distaste as he glanced back at Rick. “My g-grandfather y-yells.”

“Some preachers do,” Rick agreed in a mild tone.

Cassie liked that Rick didn’t prod Noah for more information. In fact, there was a lot about this man that she was beginning to like, and that made her nervous.

“My father is—was—a minister. He’s retired now.” She winced at her tone. A man like Rick, attuned to people’s nuances, would realize she disliked mentioning him.

“I see.” Rick grinned at Noah. “Don’t worry, Noah. I don’t yell in church. I mostly just talk. You’re welcome to come anytime.” He checked his watch then rose. “Will you excuse me? I’ve got some reading to do before we arrive.”

Noah’s blue eyes sparkled. “I c-can hardly w-wait to see Aunt L-Laurel.”

“I didn’t realize you were related.” Rick’s curious gaze turned on Cassie.

“Laurel and I met years ago in Toronto when I worked in pediatrics,” Cassie explained. “She brought in clients from time to time and we became friends. Noah was very young then. He sort of adopted her. We’ve kept in touch over the years. I guess that’s why she thought of me when she needed help with Lives.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a great asset, Cassie. We can use all the help we can get to reach Laurel’s boys.”

Cassie searched Rick’s face. We. That meant they’d be working together. Would he judge her, too, when he found out about Eric? As she stood, she looked around at the Christmas decorations still hanging in the dining car. “It seems funny that there are only three days till New Year’s Eve.”

“Churchill’s New Year’s Eve is fantastic,” Rick said.

“Wh-why?” Noah demanded.

“You’ll have to go to find out. But I will tell you this—it’s a town-wide party with amazing fireworks.”

Rick gestured for them to precede him out of the dining car. Cassie felt stares as they walked toward their seats. She automatically smoothed a hand over her hip, then stopped herself. Her jeans were years out of date and her leather boots had seen far better days, but why should she care what Rick or anyone else thought about her?

She took a look around and saw that most of her fellow passengers, including Rick, looked as though they chose function over fashion.

They’re not judging you, Cassie.

As she and Noah reached their seats, she glanced back and saw Rick joking with a woman nearby as he pulled a duffel bag from the overhead rack. He hadn’t said anything about a wife or kids and he didn’t wear a ring, but Cassie felt certain that a man with Rick’s looks wasn’t single unless he wanted it that way. He was too charming for it to be otherwise.

And nice, her brain prodded. Rick was definitely nice.

Cassie took a seat and closed her eyes. Pastor Rick Salinger was a mystery all right, but not one Cassie was going to explore. After the mess Eric had left her in and the condemnation of her church family, she just wanted to keep things as simple as possible. She would do her job and build a new life at Lives Under Construction. If she failed to get Noah straightened out here—well, she couldn’t fail, that was all. Churchill was her last resort.

An ache tore through Cassie as she studied Noah. Since Eric’s death Noah had been acting out. He’d been disciplined at school for his bad behavior and she’d tried to discipline him at home. Neither had worked. He’d progressively become more of an opponent than the son she adored.

She had to get him to change the path he was on, to let go of the brooding anger inside before he did something she couldn’t fix.

Her gaze roamed the train until it rested on Rick. Rick said he helped the boys at Lives. Maybe he could—she didn’t dare let herself think it.

Cassie Crockett had learned the hard way that you couldn’t trust anyone.

It was a lesson she’d never forget.