03_A Family To Call Her Own (8 page)

Zach saw the sudden melancholy steal into Rebecca’s eyes, and without stopping to consider the consequences he slowly reached over and laid his hand against her cheek, brushing his thumb gently over her soft, silky skin. He felt her quivering beneath his touch, but she didn’t pull away as he’d half expected. She just stared up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes.

Get out of here before you do something you’ll regret,
an inner voice ordered.
Now!

“Take a hot bath, okay?” he suggested.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“And get some rest.”

“I will.”

It would be so easy to just pull her close, to taste her lips, to demonstrate the depth of his attraction to her. It was what he
wanted
to do. Even with her hair in disarray and darkened by dampness, her classic features tinged with fatigue and wiped free of makeup, wearing mud-caked boots and an oversize parka, she did more for his libido than any woman he’d ever met. It didn’t make any sense. And if he was confused, she surely would be, too.

Zach didn’t usually waste time analyzing his reaction to a woman. He just listened to his hormones and went after what he wanted. But he knew instinctively that Rebecca wouldn’t respond to his usual direct approach. And he also recognized that tonight was not the time to explore their attraction. She was too tired and too vulnerable.

Regretfully, summoning up the last reserves of his self-control, he let his hand drop from her cheek and removed his other hand from her shoulder. “Good night, Rebecca.”

“G-good night. And thank you.”

He hesitated one more second, then, with a last lingering sweep of her face, he turned and strode away into the rain.

Rebecca rose on one arm to peer at the bedside clock, reading the digital display with a groan. One in the morning! She thumped her pillow and flopped onto her back, cringing as her aching muscles protested the abrupt movement. After the last couple of days of backbreaking work she needed rest desperately, but sleep was proving to be elusive tonight. Her sore muscles were just making it too difficult to get comfortable.

But so were thoughts of Zach, she admitted. Tonight she was sure he had been thinking about kissing her. But then, in her exhausted state, maybe she’d misread his eyes. It wasn’t as if she had a whole lot of experience to draw on. But there had definitely been…vibrations, she thought, for lack of a better word. Surely she wasn’t mistaken about that. Yet, in the end, he’d simply walked away.

Rebecca stared at the dark ceiling and tried to think logically. Despite his restraint earlier in the evening, she knew he was interested. He’d made no secret of the fact. He’d been angling for a date ever since their “official” meeting in the diner. She’d put him off, but he didn’t seem discouraged. Just more determined. Which made her nervous.

But what made her even more nervous was her interest in him.

Rebecca closed her eyes and drew a deep, quivering breath. She didn’t want to be interested in Zach. She didn’t want to feel nervous and unsettled every time she was in his presence. She didn’t want to wait anxiously every day to see if he’d stop in for lunch so she could at least catch a glimpse of him. But she was and she did. And that scared her. Because she knew that deep in her subconscious she was starting to consider going out with him.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to date him. She did. She found him attractive, was flattered by his attention, impressed by his apparent character and integrity. But she was so afraid of what would happen if he… A choked sob cut off her thought in mid-sentence. She didn’t have to wonder what would happen. She
knew.
Physical closeness freaked her out. Period. She’d embarrass both of them. He might even be angry. She didn’t know him well enough to be able to judge his reaction. But based on past experience with other men, it wouldn’t be pretty. No, dating Zach would be a mistake.

Besides, she consoled herself, he’d be leaving soon. This was just a temporary beat for him. He was a city man, used to lights and action and excitement. And he sure wouldn’t find those in St. Genevieve. She was better off sticking to her original decision.

But if that was true, then why didn’t she feel better off? she cried silently.

Zach typed in the final line of his story, then leaned back and wearily massaged his temple. It had been a long, cold, wet night, and it had taken him what seemed like hours to warm up after he dropped Rebecca off. But at least he had a good story to show for his discomfort, he thought in satisfaction. It uplifted. It reaffirmed. It found goodness even in the midst of chaos and tragedy. It was the kind of story Josef would like, he realized suddenly, a faint smile touching his lips as he thought of his friend.

Zach pulled out his wallet and flipped through the plastic holders, stopping at one that contained a photo taken at Isabel’s christening, nearly eight years before. Josef and Katrina had insisted that Zach be the godfather, though he’d protested that the honor should go to a relative. He still remembered Josef’s response to his reaction.

“Sometimes ties of the heart are the strongest of all, stronger even than blood, Zachary. You are my best friend, and you would honor us by becoming part of our family in this way.”

And so, of course Zach had agreed. He recalled clearly the day the picture was taken. It was right before Zach and Katrina went home, an unseasonably warm late-May afternoon even for St. Louis. They asked him to hold Isabel for the picture, and then stood on either side of him while the minister snapped the photo. Zach had no experience with babies and was almost afraid to grasp the tiny, fragile bit of life, with her flailing arms and kicking legs. But Josef laughingly assured him that Isabel wouldn’t break, and in fact she lay quietly in his arms as the picture was taken, staring up at him solemnly with big blue eyes.

Zach glanced at the facing picture, a slightly fuzzy shot taken when Isabel was six. Almost two years ago now. She had turned into a beautiful child, with her mother’s long brown hair and Josef’s inquiring eyes. Josef and Katrina had gone out of their way to treat Zach as one of the family, despite the distance that separated them, and Zach always remembered Isabel’s birthday with some sort of stuffed animal or toy. It would be nice to see them all again, he thought wistfully. He glanced down at the molded pewter ring on his finger that had been their parting gift to him, and recalled the inscription: Friends—Always. And they would be, he knew.

On impulse, Zach leaned forward and checked his E-mail. He hadn’t heard from Josef in over two weeks, and he was starting to worry. Though Josef never said it in so many words, Zach knew he was growing increasingly concerned about the deteriorating conditions in his country. He and Katrina rarely went out anymore with friends, and Isabel spent most of her time indoors for safety reasons. Josef’s powerful, persuasive writing was also attracting more and more attention from opposing factions, and Zach had begun urging him to use caution. But that word wasn’t in Josef’s vocabulary, not when he felt he was doing the right thing. Although Zach suspected that there was a very real danger for his friend, Josef downplayed it.

This time, when Zach opened his mailbox, he was rewarded with a note from his friend, and he eagerly scanned it. But it wasn’t the kind of message he had hoped for.

Things are not very good for us right now, Zachary. Katrina has had a miscarriage and is very ill. I wish we could be in St. Louis, with good Dr. Anderson, who took such fine care of her when Isabel was born. But that is not the Lord’s will, it seems. We must stay here and hope that He will watch over us.

I cannot write much now, my friend. It is not safe here at the newspaper office. We will be moving again soon. It seems that our talk of freedom is causing much distress to the powers that be. But still we persevere, for the torch must be carried.

I hope, Zachary, that all is well with you. I think often of our happy days at Mizzou. It was a good time, was it not? So much hope and enthusiasm and optimism. We were going to change the world, you and I. Remember? And we are, you know. It is just very slow work. But I carry on, firmly believing that this is what the Lord intends me to do.

I will write again when the opportunity arises, my friend. Now I must return to Katrina, who gives my life so much joy. I pray that she will quickly be well again. And I pray also that peace will soon return to our troubled country.

Zach rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers, a frown creasing his brow as he scanned Joseph’s message a second time. He hadn’t even known about Katrina’s pregnancy. He assumed it had been by accident, not design. After her first difficult pregnancy and delivery, the doctors had warned her that attempts to have more children could be extremely dangerous. And Josef loved her too much to risk that.

Zach wished there was some way he could help his friend. Long ago he and Josef had promised each other that should either ever be in need, the other had only to ask and help would be on the way. But Josef hadn’t made such a request. Probably because he knew there was nothing Zach could do. Except maybe pray.

But unlike Josef, who was a religious man, Zach’s once-solid faith had withered and died in the alleys and slums of St. Louis. Yet he took a moment now, in case there really was anyone listening upstairs, to ask for protection for his friend and his family. Because Zach was beginning to suspect that only a Higher Power would be able to keep them safe.

Chapter Four

R
ebecca sighed and reached up to secure a wayward pin in her French twist. The last few days had been tough. She was putting in her usual long hours at the restaurant, then spending every spare minute sandbagging. The rain hadn’t abated, and despite the diligent efforts of the townspeople and the National Guard, it appeared that the flooding would be severe and widespread. Rebecca hadn’t been in town during the last flood, several years before, but stories of the horror survived. Families homeless, businesses ruined, hundreds of lives turned upside down. She paused for a moment and closed her eyes. Please, Lord, keep everyone safe, she prayed. And help us all realize that lives are more precious than things.

Rebecca opened her eyes and glanced at the clock, sighing once again. Ten at night was not an ideal time to be getting ready for tomorrow’s scheduled bridal shower in the restaurant. But the work had to be done, even if she was bone weary after sandbagging for three hours earlier in the evening. Thank heavens Zach had more or less dragged her off that sandbag line two nights ago! Even though her sleep had been restless that night, disrupted by both sore muscles and conflicting emotions about her “rescuer,” at least her body had gotten some much-needed rest. That had helped carry her though the next couple of days. But the reserve was starting to wear thin. Maybe if she worked quickly tonight, she’d get home before midnight, she thought hopefully.

Rebecca checked the consistency of the potato leek soup and, with a satisfied nod, turned off the blender. Now she just had to finish up a couple of special items for the shower and she’d be done.

As she walked toward the refrigerator, a sudden knock on the back door startled her, and she stopped abruptly, glancing toward the door with a frown. Who in the world could be here at this hour?

Leaving the chain firmly in place, she opened the door an inch or two and peered out into the rainy darkness, her eyes widening when she recognized the visitor. “Zach! What are you doing here?” she asked in astonishment.

“I was driving by and thought I saw the light on back here. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

“Oh. Yes. I’m fine. Thanks. Just catching up on a few things.”

He turned his collar up and dug his hands into the pockets of his coat, propping one shoulder against the door frame as he sniffed appreciatively. “It sure smells good in there.”

Rebecca frowned. “Didn’t you have dinner?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been working. And I pitched in for a little while with the sandbagging. Can’t you tell?” he asked with a crooked grin, glancing down at his mud-splattered jeans. “Fortunately someone loaned me a slicker, or I’d look a whole lot worse than this.”

Rebecca scanned his form in one swift glance. He looked cold and wet and—as her eyes came back to rest on his face—tired. There were lines at the corners of his eyes, furrows on his brow. And his mouth looked strained, as if he was in pain. She frowned and bit her lip. “Do you think you should be sandbagging, Zach? It’s been less than two weeks since you had the concussion. Didn’t the doctor tell you to take it easy for a while?”

He dismissed her concern with a shrug. “I feel okay. At least I did until a little while ago, when I started to get a headache. I just need some rest and I’ll be fine. I’m just going to grab a bite somewhere and call it a night.” He straightened up and smiled. “Well, I’ll see you around.”

“Zach…” She couldn’t just let him walk away. Not when he was cold and hungry and in pain. It wasn’t right. Besides, he’d gone out of his way for her two nights ago and spent this evening helping with the sandbagging. She could at least offer him some soup. It would be the kind thing to do—even if it wasn’t the smart thing, she acknowledged. Not when her heart went into overdrive every time she was in his presence. But her conscience prickled, telling her she was being self-centered. With a sigh of capitulation, she shut the door and slid the chain free, then swung the door open. “Would you like a bowl of soup?”

He frowned and dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. “I wasn’t angling for a meal, Rebecca,” he said slowly. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“I know. And I appreciate that. I also appreciated the lift home the other night.”

“I’m glad. I was afraid you’d think I was a little too heavy-handed.”

She shrugged, smiling faintly. “I did,” she admitted. “But you were right. Anyway, I just made some soup, and you’re welcome to a bowl.”