Heart's Haven (12 page)

“Fine.” She laid down the mitts. “Say what you need to.”

“You’re blaming God as much as your father. But people are given a choice about their decisions. God can’t give us free will and then tear it away every time someone does something you don’t like.”

“He’s supposed to be a God of love,” she argued, furious at the lump that wedged itself at the base of her throat.

“He
is
a loving God. Loving someone doesn’t mean you force your will on them. It means standing back and allowing them to make their decisions.”

“Then what good is it to trust Him, to pray to Him, if He’s going to let bad things happen anyway?” She felt like a child saying it, but the question had haunted her for too long. “What’s the point?”

“The point is to trust God to see you through the bad times, to be there for you.”

Cassidy opened her mouth to respond, but a large crash overhead distracted them both. She glanced at Ty, saw that all color had drained from his face. His hand shook when he reached out to the counter as if to steady himself.

“Ty?”

Several minutes passed before he tore his gaze from the ceiling to glance her way.

“Yes?” Even his voice sounded faint.

“Should we go up and investigate?” No response. “You let Jack use the gym to paint the banner, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Something might be wrong. We’d better go up.”

“Okay.” But he didn’t move.

Ty’s behavior was so strange that Cassidy felt no compunction about grasping his arm and tugging on it to get him to move. But he reared back at her touch, blinked.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” He turned toward the stairs. “I have a bad feeling.”

His feelings were right on.

Paint sprayed across the floor, reaching well beyond the stretch of tarps someone had lain to protect the hardwood. Jack was trying to scoop up red and navy and white paint with minimal success.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Ty. Red and I were talking and then Boe came along and I forgot the cans were behind me and I tripped and—” He stopped, gulped.

Ty’s face blazed with anger. She needn’t have worried. He was back to normal.

“I can’t believe you let this happen. Look at the floor!” He grabbed a nearby roll of paper towel and began swabbing up the paint. “We have to get it off before it stains.”

Cassidy directed the three others to pull the corners of the tarps together so the paint stayed inside. Red raced to get a garbage bag from the supply cupboard.

“Go get a mop and a pail of warm water, Jack. Quickly.” She worked furiously to clean the paint off, but the old wood hadn’t yet received a new coat of varnish, so it absorbed the paint quickly.

“Here.” Jack dropped the pail too near Ty, whose beautiful trousers got spattered with water and a few droplets of the paint. “Oh, boy. Sorry, Uncle Ty.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Jack. I warned you to be careful. I told you that this floor—”

“Stop talking and keep working,” Cassidy said loud and clear as a rebellious look flooded Jack’s red face as he glanced toward his listening friends. “You can all help,” she told the group.

She splashed water on the floor, tossed them some towels.

“What should we do?”

“Use them like blotters. Don’t smear the paint,” she warned. “Just press a towel on and lift it off. Then start again.”

They worked without saying anything more, aware of Ty’s forbidding silence. By the time Red and Jack hauled out two garbage bags of ruined tarps and sopping towels, the worst of the paint had been removed.

“It’s a mess,” Ty muttered, his lips tight with anger. “How could he be so careless? Such a stupid mistake to make.”

“Wasn’t it you who was preaching to me about the merits of forgiveness not long ago?” Cassidy snapped, glancing at the door. Jack could return at any time and she didn’t want him to hear this. “Jack didn’t mean to mess up. And there’s no harm done. Not really,” she countered before he could interrupt. “I heard Elizabeth say this floor should be sanded and resealed. Sanding will remove what’s left of the paint.”

I hope.

Even she could tell the red had absorbed too deeply.

“You’re always trying to shield him.” Ty’s anger glinted in the almost violet depths of his glare. “He’s not a child. You said he was old enough to help. I paid a lot for that canvas banner and now it’s trash.”

“I’ll pay for another one out of my allowance.” Jack stood in the doorway, his face red. Behind him, his two friends stood listening. “And I’ll make sure it looks great. I did a good job on that one, Uncle Ty. Until the paint spilled.”

“I think we should get a professional to do the banner.” Ty stared at the big spot as if that would make it disappear. “I’ll find somewhere else to cut back.”

Jack hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“We all are, Jack. You’ve got to be more careful. You’ve got homework, don’t you?”

“Not very much.”

“I think you should get started on it. It’s time for Red and Boe to go home.”

“Is it okay if I walk them to the door?” Jack asked, his face telegraphing his hurt.

“Yes. But that’s it. We’re not having anyone visit tonight. Or tomorrow.”

“But we’re starting March break! I don’t have to worry about school.”

“Your English teacher told me you haven’t read the material for the next section yet. I think that will take some of your time.”

Jack stomped out of the room, letting the door slam closed behind him.

Cassidy glared at Ty.

“Why did you do that?”

He frowned. “Because he needs to concentrate on his studies.”

“You know what I’m talking about, and it isn’t school. Why couldn’t you have asked his friends to stay for dinner, let him have the evening with them? Why do you have to be so hard on him?”

“Hard on him?” Ty glared. “We just chucked about four-hundred dollars’ worth of paint, signs and tarps because Jack wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing. He’s got to learn responsibility. What happens the next time he goofs off and something happens?”

“Why do you automatically assume he’s goofing off?” She glanced at his pants, knew they were ruined. Add another hundred to his estimate of the damage. “Accidents happen, Ty. To everybody.”

“Of course they do. That’s why he has to be extra careful.”

“He’s barely thirteen. He probably feels awkward and uncomfortable most of the time. He’s trying to get used to life without his mother. With you. In a new school. You’ve got to stop pushing so hard or—”

“Or what?” Ty demanded.

He was furious with her.

“Tell me what else I should be worried about, Cassidy.”

“I didn’t say you should worry.”

A picture of Jack two nights ago when he’d sought her out before a cooking class filled her mind. He’d hung around, waited for everyone to leave so he could speak to her. His words still haunted her.

I think Uncle Ty wants me to go away from here. I think he hates me.

“I need to tell you something, Ty, but I have to get back to the kitchen. Can you come down there so I can work while I talk?’

He glanced around, shrugged. “Not much more we can do here, I suppose.” He followed her to the kitchen.

Cassidy checked the stew, pulled out the biscuit trays. She drained the potatoes and asked him to mash them while she put the finishing touches on the salad. Then when all was ready, she pointed to a chair.

“I need to tell you something. More of my ugly history, I’m afraid.”

He nodded, sat, waited.

“When I was twelve, my dad disappeared. By then I was used to it and I’d hide what little money I could so that I could still buy milk and bread. But it ran out and pretty soon we were all very hungry.”

She hated saying it, hated going back, digging through the past, exposing the sordid truth. But Cassidy pressed on, because Jack was worth it.

“Eventually a neighbor noticed and called Social Services. They took us away from him and sent us to his sister.”

“That must have been a relief.”

“You’d think so.” She made a face. “It was horrible. Sure, we had enough to eat, we didn’t have to worry about somebody not being at home when we got out of school, but it was not an improvement.”

“Why?”

“She had rules. Thousands of them. I know she was only trying to protect us but they made us feel like we were always being punished. They also made us feel as if she didn’t care about us, as if she was waiting for an excuse to get rid of us.” Cassidy inhaled. “We felt like she hated us for interrupting her life.”

Ty studied her with a frown.

“You think that’s how I make Jack feel?”

She slowly nodded.

“I love Jack, Cassidy. And I don’t begrudge his presence in my life.”

“I know that.”

“Meaning you think he doesn’t.”

“He’s a kid, Ty. He learns by making mistakes.” She shrugged. “Yeah, they’re messy mistakes and are inconvenient, even annoying. But if Jack didn’t act his age he’d be pretty uptight and you’d be trying to figure out how to get him to relax.”

“You think I should let him be with his friends.”

“It’s a school break. He has to do something. What’s wrong with having the kids here, where you can keep an eye on them? You’ve got to cut him a little slack if you don’t want to alienate him. The last thing you want is for Jack to feel he’s in the way.”

Ty dragged his fingers through his hair, heaved a sigh.

“You’re right. I overreacted again. I guess because Elizabeth is asking about a grand opening date and I’m nowhere near ready for that.”

Cassidy opened her mouth, thought better of it.

“You were going to say something,” he prodded. “So say it.”

“You and Jack could do something together,” she suggested. “Something side by side so that if he gets off track, you can correct it before it goes too far. Just the two of you.”

“Any suggestions?” He didn’t look as if he relished the prospect.

“Red’s always bugging me about learning some recipes. Maybe this is the week to get a teen cooking class going. You can help with that.” She laughed at his gloomy face. “’Fraidy Cat. Better get out of here before I put an apron on you.”

He nodded but he didn’t leave immediately.

“Thanks for sharing,” he said quietly.

“If it helps, I’m glad I did. Maybe something good can come out of that misery.”

“Will you think about forgiving your father?”

“No. What he did was unforgivable.”

Cassidy bent over the oven door and pretended she was too busy to talk anymore.

But when Ty left, the room felt barren, lonely. Like her life.

Yet Cassidy couldn’t quite wipe out the memory of Ty’s hand on hers, sharing her pain.

Nor could she forget his words about forgiveness.

Or figure out what to do about them.

“T
his was an awesome idea, Cassidy.”

Enveloped in a thick white apron, Jack bore a smear of cocoa above his eyebrow, white icing on his chin and flour in his hair. And he’d never looked happier. Ty quashed a pang of envy, wishing he had the same ability as their pretty chef to bring that joyful smile to his nephew’s face.

“They look good. How do they taste?” Ty poked one of the brownies with his finger.

“Eat it and find out.” Red glared as if he’d insulted her skills.

He tasted one.

“Very nice.” The words barely escaped his lips when the lights went out.

“Everybody stay put,” Cassidy ordered. “I’ve got candles here someplace.”

Ty barely heard the words.

“Not again,” he breathed as the horror gripped him. “Oh, please, God, not again.”

“Ty? Ty!”

A siren, feet rushing past. Someone calling his name.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t hit. I’m fine. I’m fine.” He repeated it over and over, willing himself to believe his own words.

“Ty, snap out of it. Come on. We’re all fine. It’s just a power outage.” A hand closed around his upper arm. “Sit down here. You’re safe. Nothing’s happened.”

That fragrance. He knew it. And the voice—quiet but commanding.

Cassidy.

He dragged out every ounce of self-control, shook free of the numbing stupor. Candles flickered all along the counter. The room was empty save for him and Cassidy.

“Jack?” he whispered, wiping a hand against his damp brow.

“He and Red are checking the doors. Mac is upstairs making sure everyone is all right.”

“No candles,” he rasped, his throat dry and rough as if he’d breathed in a ton of smoke. “No candles up there. Dangerous.”

“They have flashlights. Everything’s fine.”

He leaned his back against the chair and drew in cleansing breaths, waiting for the terror to dissipate. Once he was back to normal, he glanced at Cassidy. Her expression was grim.

“I think it’s about time you explained to me exactly what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t like the dark.”

“Don’t lie to me, Ty. Not anymore. I’ve asked you several times since I’ve been here and each time you either ignore the question or fob me off. Tonight you scared all of us. I want the truth.”

He licked his lips, searching for a drop of moisture to ease his parched throat. She must have noticed because Cassidy poured a glass of soda and handed it to him. Ty gulped it down. He was always thirsty after a panic attack.

“You’re not going to walk away and pretend nothing happened. You’ve been lying to me for weeks.” She glared at him. “I want to know what’s wrong with you.”

“I didn’t lie, Cassidy. It’s not something I talk about.”

“Until now.” Frost edged her voice.

He studied her for several minutes, but deep inside, Ty knew Cassidy would not let him bluff his way through. Maybe it
was
better if she knew the details. Maybe she could ensure nothing bad happened the next time he zoned out.

“There was an—incident when I was in Iraq. Certain things trigger an episode and I relive that time. Technically it’s called post-traumatic stress disorder.”

“And you chose a homeless shelter to recover from this?” Her gaze revealed her disgust. “Don’t you think you should be in a hospital?”

“No. There’s nothing wrong with me. Physically, anyway.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I won’t hurt anyone or damage anything. I really am fine.”

“I said the truth, Ty. The whole truth.” She would not relent. “I told you about my father. I’ve never told anyone that story. The least you can do is be honest with me.”

He hated talking about it, hated how it diminished him, made him feel stupid, helpless and incompetent. But this was not the time to hide.

Cassidy was part of the Haven, an important part. She’d poured herself into the project, given unstintingly. She’d bent over backward doing whatever he’d asked of her, gone beyond any expectations in helping him with Jack. If Ty was honest he’d admit she was quickly becoming more than just a coworker, though he wasn’t sure what to do with that knowledge.

“It’s not a matter of honesty.”

“I think it’s completely about honesty. Tell me what happened, Ty.”

She wanted the truth? Fine. Let her have it. Then he’d see how she felt about total honesty. He gritted his teeth, forced out the words.

“The attack killed five men. Five men who had come to me for counseling, for help, because they were afraid. Do you know what I told them to do?”

“No.”

The knot of disgust tightened inside his gut, forcing out the shame he could not escape.

“I told them to face their fears. I told them to go back out into that nightmare and look their fear in the eye.”

He laughed, the irony of it never more razor sharp than now. They’d faced their fear and it had cost them their lives. But he lived with his fear every single day. Fear that he’d give the wrong advice again. Fear that he’d mess up and others would die.

Because of him.

“I relive that afternoon,” he told her, unable to mask the wobble in his voice. “I see them preparing to leave, I feel the blast and then—they’re gone.”

Pity turned her silver eyes gunmetal gray. Her fingers squeezed his shoulder.

“It wasn’t your fault. You were doing your job.”

“Really?” That painful rasp that hurt his throat could not be called a laugh. “I could have sent them home, Cassidy. I could have scribbled
mental distress
across their file jackets and they’d be alive today. It’s my fault they’re dead.”

Cassidy stared at Ty, her heart racing as he slammed a fist into his palm the same way the truth slammed into her heart.

He hadn’t lied to her.

Ty had tried to protect her and Jack from the nightmare that tortured him.

Ty was not a man trying to fool her, but a man desperate to rebuild his life.

Now she understood why Ty hadn’t wanted to talk to Irina, why he shied away from others who came seeking his help. Ty didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing again. He’d pushed ahead with everything at the Haven except the counseling part of it because guilt had stolen his confidence.

Armed with that knowledge, Cassidy forgave him. And in the forgiving came healing empowerment. No longer was she a victim of cheating and lying. She was free to stop hiding, free of the fear that someone else would abuse her trust.

Free to reach out, to help a man she cared about.

Ty sat huddled in his chair, his face tortured. Cassidy crouched down in front of him, covered his hands with hers.

“The war, the explosion, the deaths—you couldn’t have prevented any of it, Ty. You’re not that powerful.” Her fingers tightened on his. “In your heart you must know. You went over there, you did your job and you helped as many people as you could. Some didn’t make it. But that wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have sent them home.”

He didn’t pull away from her touch, so Cassidy stayed still, drawing strength from the shadows around them that allowed the intimacy of sharing.

“Were they medical cases? Unfit for duty?”

The battle for truth played out across his face.

“No,” he finally whispered.

“Then you wouldn’t have been doing your job if you’d sent them home. The government trusted you to make that call, Ty. And you did. You listened, you used your knowledge and experience and you gave them the best advice you could. You’re not at fault.”

He studied her for a long time before his fingers tightened around hers.

“My head hears and agrees,” he murmured, his breath brushing her cheek. “But my heart wants them back.”

“Can’t you trust God that they are safe with Him?”

Cassidy wasn’t sure where the words came from. She didn’t trust God, hadn’t since her father had stolen her future. But this wasn’t about her. This was about Ty and he did believe. More than that, he trusted God.

“Trust God?” He peered at her through the dimness of the flickering candles. A faint smile touched his lips. “I guess I never thought of it that way. I’ve been so engrossed in what I feel, hear and see that I didn’t—” His voice trailed away as he worked through the issue in his own mind.

Gradually, like an ebbing tide, the tension in his body dissipated. His grip on her hands changed from clinging to something she couldn’t understand. It was as if she saw Ty in a whole new light.

Like a movie, Cassidy replayed past mornings when she’d shown up at work only to find Ty huddled over a cup of coffee, face gray, eyes tortured. She remembered the times he’d tried so hard to back out of a counseling session, realizing now it was not because he didn’t want to help the people here, but because he did but was afraid his help would do more harm than good.

Like snapshots in a photo album, she saw him with Jack—tentative, cautious, uncertain of himself. And there was Jack, needing someone strong and confident to help him through the doubts. It wasn’t that Ty didn’t want a relationship with his nephew, Cassidy realized. It was that he was afraid he’d fail him, just as he thought he’d failed his fellow soldiers, his brother.

“Thank you.”

Cassidy found him staring at her, his eyes serious but no longer tortured.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did. You made me say it out loud, face it. I’ve never really done that—not as thoroughly as I did here, with you.” He loosened one hand, brushed her cheek. “How did you get so smart about God?”

“I’m not.”

“You are. All this time I’ve been putting my faith in myself, in how I could handle things, how I would manage, as if I’m God. But I do believe God is in control of the world. I need to do my part and let Him do His.” He touched her nose with his forefinger. “You reminded me of that. Thank you.”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome.” His nearness made her nervous. She tried to pull away, to distance herself, but he wouldn’t let go of her other hand, and stood up with her. “Instead of hiding away, going through these episodes alone, why don’t you give the rest of us a chance to help you? You should know talking sometimes diminishes the strength of your reactions.”

“Okay. I’ll come find you next time and you can soothe my fears away.”

It wasn’t the hint behind his words that made her warm, it was that look in his eyes, the way his fingers squeezed around hers.

“Would you kiss and make it better, Cassidy?”

Transfixed by the mesmerizing stroke of his thumb against her cheek, Cassidy froze; a deep yearning billowed up inside her. She didn’t know what to do next.

She didn’t have to decide. Ty leaned forward and kissed her, the light brush of his lips sending shockwaves through her body. The connection between them had been born the day she’d met him and simmered beneath the surface ever since.

So Cassidy leaned into the kiss, lifting her arms to circle his neck, burying her fingers in the tendrils of hair that curled against his nape. His hands moved around her waist and he drew her closer, intensifying the embrace until she could think only of him.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. For a moment, Cassidy couldn’t understand why. She blinked, wincing at the harsh glow backlighting Ty.

The power was back on.

Embarrassed, she dropped her hands, then stepped back so his fell away from her.

“Cassidy?” His fingers pushed against her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She glanced around to avoid his stare. “Look at this mess. I’ve got to get it cleaned up.”

Ty said nothing as she blew out the candles, ran the dishwater and began wiping up the baking mess. After a minute, he began washing the dirty cooking utensils.

Silence hung awkwardly between them, but Cassidy couldn’t think of a way to break it without sounding girlishly silly. It was just a kiss, after all.

“Everything’s cool upstairs,” Jack told them, bursting into the room with Red at his heels. “What are you doing with our brownies?”

“Putting them away so they don’t dry out. Do you want to take some home, Red?”

“I wouldn’t mind.” She accepted the plastic-wrapped tray greedily. “I wish you’d do this more often.”

“What? Bake?” Cassidy forced herself not to stare at Ty. Her heart rate accelerated at his disheveled hair, mussed shirt. Had she done that?

“Yeah, bake.” Red frowned. “You give those women classes about how to cook. How come you can’t teach us?”

Cassidy blinked her surprise. It was the first time Red had shown interest in any program at the Haven. “You want to take cooking lessons?”

“Yeah, but not with those women. They know too much.”

She’d be surprised. But Red’s words sparked an idea she’d had weeks ago. Cassidy had so much else going on that she’d left it perking in the back of her brain. Maybe it was time.

“Thursday evenings work for me. Seven to eight-thirty.”

“You mean you’ll do it?” Surprise filled Jack’s brown gaze.

“Starting this week if you can find five more kids who are interested.”

“Not a problem.” Red grinned.

“All right!” Jack beamed.

“Cassidy.” Ty stood behind her.

The tone of his voice warned her he wasn’t thrilled.

“It’s a good idea, Uncle Ty. I know a lot of kids at school who have to fend for themselves when their parents are working. If they knew how to cook some simple meals for their brothers and sisters, don’t you think that would be good?”

“I think it would be wonderful, Jack. But Cassidy’s already doing something almost every night of the week. It’s a lot to ask of her.”

“I’m only here until June. I don’t mind squeezing in a few extra hours if it will help.” Cassidy caught Jack’s triumphant glare at his uncle, saw worry crowd Ty’s beautiful blue eyes. “But only with your uncle’s permission. I know it’s a liability to have kids working in the kitchen and you probably have to check with Elizabeth about insurance and all that stuff.”

“Yes, I do.” Gratefulness gleamed in his gaze. “I also need permission slips from the parents agreeing that their children may take the class. I can make up a form tomorrow morning.” He turned to Jack. “Will that be a problem?”