Once Upon a Family (7 page)

Again Noah spoke up and Peter wasn’t surprised. His
friend knew how to network, which would come in handy. “I run ads on both the radio and television stations. And the editor in chief of the newspaper is a friend.”

Sean cocked his head to the side, his forehead creased. “Why aren’t there enough foster homes for kids?”

Peter clasped the arms of his folding chair. “That’s a good question. In a perfect world there would be plenty of places for children who need a good home.”

Sean scowled. “But this isn’t a perfect world.” Anger touched his voice.

“No, it isn’t. Noah, Jacob and I grew up in foster care. We know firsthand some of its problems. A lot of the people who take in children mean well, but there are some who don’t. There are some who think it’s a business and treat the kids as a commodity. I want a place that is safe and where the children come first while they wait to be adopted or go back home.”

Sean stared at him for a moment, then blinked and averted his gaze, but not before Peter had seen his earlier anger dissolving and changing. Hope flared in him. The boy was floundering and wrestling with something he wasn’t ready to share with others. He knew the signs because he had been there. It had taken Paul to open the dam on Peter’s emotions. Could he do the same for Sean?

Lord, show me the way.

When Peter swung his attention to Laura, he found her watching him with almost the same expression as her son. What was she grappling with? He wanted to be there for her, too, but at the same time worry nibbled at
his thoughts. Getting involved with Laura might involve his heart.

Jacob cleared his throat.

Everyone was staring at him. Peter swallowed several times, desperately seeking a way to take the focus off him. “So when do we want to have this auction?” With restless energy surging through him, Peter rose. He wanted to go back to his house and start right away.

“Let’s shoot for the weekend after Labor Day.”

Peter peered at Laura. “Why then? Why not in June, or July, or for that matter, August even?”

Laura laughed. “Patience. If you want it done well, we’ll need time to plan and organize it. Besides, people are on vacation during the summer. When school starts next year, everyone will be around and hopefully ready to donate their hard-earned money to a worthy cause.”

Peter moved behind his folding chair and gripped its back. “Okay, that makes sense. Planning the auction won’t be the only thing we’ll be doing between now and September. We’ll need to get the nonprofit organization up and running.”

Noah leaned forward, planting his elbows on his thighs. “There’s no reason you can’t start soliciting donations before the auction. I can talk to Bill at the newspaper about a series of articles concerning the foster care system in Cimarron City to let the towns-people know about the need for more places to house the children.”

“Then the paper can do an article about the Henderson Foundation.” Peter watched Noah and Jacob’s faces
brighten with smiles. “I want to name the organization after Paul and Alice.”

Jacob cheered. “You’ll get no argument from—”

“Mrs. Williams!” Mindy’s shout cut Jacob off and brought Laura to her feet, the pad and pen falling to the ground. “Alexa has been bitten by a snake.” Mindy appeared at the edge of the circle of chairs, her face pale, her eyes huge.

Jacob leaped up. “Where is she?”

As Peter asked everyone to stay back, Laura rushed after Mindy with Jacob and Peter right behind her. Twenty yards downstream near some tall grass Alexa sat, tears coursing down her cheeks. Her daughter held a hand over a place below her right knee at the side of her calf. The ashen cast to her features quickened Laura’s pace. Her daughter’s sobs knifed into her.

Laura arrived and positioned herself next to Alexa, then inspected the area, wishing she could get hold of the snake who had hurt her daughter. “Honey, are you all right? Let us see the bite.”

Jacob and Peter knelt near Alexa’s legs while Laura grasped her daughter’s upper arms and embraced her. Alexa removed her hand from the bite. Two fang marks stood out—red, nasty looking, blood oozing from the site.

“Alexa, do you know what kind of snake it was?” Jacob probed the skin surrounding the wound.

“I thought I heard a rattle right before it struck Alexa.” Mindy drew in several quick gulps of air.

“I think—” Alexa inhaled a shuddering breath “—it was a rattlesnake. I saw one at the zoo once.”

The pain in her daughter’s voice tore at Laura’s com
posure. She squeezed her eyes closed for a few seconds, fear immobilizing her.

Jacob turned to Peter. “Get the horses hooked up. We need to get her to the hospital. I’ll need something to hold her leg still. A board. Anything you can find. Also a way to tie her leg to it.”

Peter shot to his feet. “Got it. Be right back.” He threw Laura a gaze loaded with concern then whirled around and ran toward the picnic area.

She heard him tell someone to get the horses and wagon ready. “What can I do?” Helplessness swamped her while Jacob pulled out a folded handkerchief from his pocket and began tying it around her daughter’s leg right above the bite.

While he inserted a finger between the cotton material and Alexa’s leg, he glanced up at her. “We need to keep Alexa’s bite lower than her heart.”

She pointed at the bandage. “Don’t you need to make that tighter like a tourniquet?”

“No. I don’t want to stop the blood flow, just slow it down some.” Jacob gave her and Alexa a reassuring smile. “You’re going to be all right. When we get to the hospital, we’ll get you an antivenin and you’ll be as good as new in a few days.”

The tears continued to streak her daughter’s face. “It hurts.”

Laura’s stomach knotted, and she tried to keep the fear out of her voice. “I know, baby.” She wound her arms around her daughter and held her back against her.

“Will this do?” Peter presented Jacob with the top of a cooler and several belts.

“Yes.” Jacob gently lifted Alexa’s leg onto the plastic board and began fastening the belts around her and the cooler top, tight enough to keep her leg immobilized but not too tight to cut off her blood flow.

Slade Donaldson approached. “We’ve got the wagon ready.”

Jacob stood. “Good. Let’s carry her to it. Make sure to keep her leg down.”

While the three men carried Alexa toward the wagon, Laura grasped her daughter’s hand. There was a cold clammy feel to her skin. Sweat poured off Alexa, and her breathing was now shallow. The knot in Laura’s stomach tightened into a huge stone.

Lord, please don’t let anything happen to Alexa. If You are mad at me, then take it out on me, not her. Please.

She’d prayed to God and He had listened this time. The way Alexa responded to the treatment at the hospital led the doctor to feel that not much venom had gotten into her system. Laura plopped down at her kitchen table, cradling the mug of herbal tea between her cold hands.

The scrape of the chair as Peter pulled it out and sat reverberated through the room. His gaze captured hers. A smile entered his eyes. “Are you all right?”

“No—yes. As long as Alexa is fine, I’m fine.”

“It was sure nice of everyone to clean up when we left for the hospital and to tell me they’d still be willing to help get my dream going.”

She couldn’t take her attention from his endearing
features. He had been her rock today. While Jacob had seen to Alexa, Peter had been by her side, making sure she was okay. When she was married to Stephen she’d never had that. Her deceased husband had often been unavailable when an emergency had occurred. She could remember Joshua falling off his bike and busting open his head. He’d needed seven stitches. But that wasn’t what had frightened her so much. It was the amount of blood. When she had come home after spending hours at the hospital, she’d glanced down and finally noticed her shirt and pants were covered and caked in her son’s blood. And Stephen still hadn’t arrived home. Now she knew where he’d been. Gambling their life savings away.

“Your daughter was great.” Peter’s voice interrupted her unpleasant memories.

“Yes, she’s a good girl.” Laura took a sip of her drink, its warmth sliding down her dry throat.

“I promised her I would let her ride next weekend. That is if she’s up to it and you say it’s okay.” One corner of his mouth quirked upward. “It got a smile out of her.”

“No doubt. She loves going to Mindy’s and riding. I have a hard time saying no to her. She doesn’t ask for much.” With Mindy and Peter at least she could give one of her children their dream. Being a good parent wasn’t easy. Being a good single parent was even harder. “Alexa wants me to take her to church tomorrow.”

“That’s great!”

Laura stared down at her tea. “If I do, I would feel like a hypocrite. I don’t know how I feel about the Lord.
I’m so confused. I prayed today to Him to take care of Alexa and He did. But I prayed a lot this last year for Him to help us and He didn’t. We still lost our home, had to move in with Aunt Sarah, leave all our friends in St. Louis.” The second she told Peter that she wanted to take it back. The door on her past had cracked open and she’d given him a glimpse into it. Instead of putting it behind her, she kept returning to it. Would the memories ever go away?

“Have you ever thought that maybe that’s what He wanted for you and your family? That He has a plan in all this?”

Exhaustion clung to her. Coldness seeped deep into her bones. Laura hovered over the tea, seeking the warmth drifting upward. “I don’t know. I’m just so afraid I’m gonna lose my son. The only time I see him happy is when he’s with the animals at your place or playing with Lady.”

Peter reached across the table and took her hands within his. “Bring the whole family to church tomorrow, not just Alexa. We have a wonderful youth program. I’m going to use them to help work with the animals and at-risk children. Maybe Sean will become involved.”

“I’m not sure I can get him to come. He’s awfully angry with God.”
Like his mother. Is he mirroring my feelings? Or, is it something more?

“Give him the opportunity. He may surprise you. And you aren’t being a hypocrite. It’s okay to ask questions, to have doubts. We all have at one time or another. If you want I can come by and pick you all up. I can introduce you around. I suspect I know everyone who attends.”

How did he manage to get her to say so much to him? Afraid of what was happening to her, she pulled her hands back and placed them in her lap. “No, if I decide to go, I can take them. Besides, after today Alexa may not feel like going. She never goes to bed this early. I know she has a high threshold for pain, but she isn’t feeling well. Thankfully the doctor said she would be all right coming home as long as she took it easy because she didn’t want to stay there.” She was offering every excuse she could come up with, not because of the idea of going to church, but because she didn’t want Peter to take her. That lent an intimacy to their relationship she suddenly couldn’t handle, especially when she thought about Stephen and his betrayal.

A neutral expression blanketed his features. “Sure. I understand.”

Do you?
she wanted to ask him but couldn’t voice it aloud. She wasn’t sure she understood all the conflicting emotions swirling around inside of her. She liked Peter—really liked him—too much. She wanted to get to know him better but was afraid of what could happen. Three of her children adored Peter, the fourth one tolerated him in order to be around his animals. She had no doubt, though, that somehow Peter would reach Sean in time. She’d seen how effective Peter was as a principal.

In another month Stephen would have been gone for a year. Even after all that time he still controlled her life as he had when he was alive. Fear held her back, and
she wasn’t sure she would ever let that go. She touched her cheek. The memory of the sting of Stephen’s hand across her face still hurt. The bruises on her skin had faded but not the ones in her heart.

Cara, I know you’ve been wondering when I would take Peter’s offer up about going to church. Well, I did it! I took the children and went today. It helped that Aunt Sarah went with us. And I can’t lie to you. It helped that Peter was there and made us feel so much a part of the congregation. In fact there were a lot of people I know that attend the Faith Community Church. They all made me feel as if I had come home.

But to be honest I don’t know how I feel right now. I enjoyed the sermon. The words comforted me. And certainly the kids had fun, even Sean. The youth group is planning how to run the Shepherd Project, the name they gave Peter’s undertaking with the animals. Sean actually contributed his opinion and I saw him talking with Chad. When I approached, I heard them discussing the two lambs they helped deliver. They both seemed like proud papas.

I’m praying for Mason and you. I’m glad he’s back home from the hospital although I wish the doctors
knew what was going on with him. My love and prayers, Laura.

L
aura closed down her computer and stared at the black screen. Would her prayers help her friend’s husband get through his illness? She wished her faith were as strong as Cara and Peter’s, but then neither one of them was responsible for a person dying.

How can the Lord forgive me?

Why of all days did I agree to meet with Peter today at Noah’s restaurant?

That question plagued her as Laura drove toward the place. Since she’d awakened this morning, her thoughts had been centered around the fact this was the first anniversary of Stephen’s death. She might have been able to shake it off if Alexa hadn’t said something about it at breakfast. She’d wanted to do something for her father, but since the grave site was in St. Louis, visiting it wasn’t an option. Her daughter had asked her if she had any ideas what she could do. She didn’t.

It was only one in the afternoon, and she was tired. Bone tired. She rarely took a nap, but that was all she wanted to do. The horror of those last few days of Stephen’s life came flooding back, bringing with it all the pain she had gone through.

Laura pulled into the parking lot and brought her car to a stop. She needed to get out, but for the life of her she couldn’t seem to open the door. The sound of the slap that had rocked her so hard that she had teetered at
the top of the stairs, then plunged down them echoed through her mind. She shuddered.

Gripping the steering wheel, she laid her head against it. She had been so thankful the kids hadn’t seen what had transpired between Stephen and her at the end. She’d been able to attribute her bruises to the fact that she’d fallen down the stairs. She would never have been able to explain their father’s behavior.

A tap at her window startled her. Gasping, she twisted around to face Peter. He bent down to look into the car. She sucked in a calming breath that barely inflated her lungs and opened her door. With trembling legs she stood, clutching the vehicle for support.

“What’s wrong?”

The concern in Peter’s expression touched the coldness about her heart. “This wasn’t a good idea.”

His hand covered hers on the door. “Did something happen to one of the kids?”

She shook her head, unable to speak. Peter needed some kind of explanation, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone what Stephen had done that last day. She felt so ashamed that she had allowed it to happen.

Peter pried her hands from the door, leaned in and snatched her purse off the seat, then tugged her toward his truck. She didn’t object even though a weak protest was stuck in her throat. Inside his blue Chevy, Peter switched on the engine.

That action prompted her to ask, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet and near.”

Weary, she let him drive from the restaurant without
a protest. Finally when he parked next to the high school stadium, she angled toward him and asked, “Why here?”

“No one is here and it was near. I couldn’t think of anywhere else nearby. The park is full of people so it was out.”

“There’s so much I need to be doing at home. Aunt Sarah has finally decided on a color to paint the house. It’s actually very pretty, a forest-green. That should go well with the dark red brick. I need to get the supplies. There’s nothing at the house. We start this weekend.” The words tumbled from her as if she were a runaway train and couldn’t stop them.

The anxiety in his gaze warred with the rest of his features, fixed in a neutral expression.

His look prompted her to add, “I should just go home. We can reschedule this another day.”

“We could, but it wouldn’t solve your problem.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “Please, Laura. I’ve gotten quite good at reading people. You have to if you want to stay on top of what’s going on with teenagers. They’re sharp and hard to fool—like me.”

She couldn’t see any way to get out of telling Peter at least a little of what was bothering her. But she couldn’t tell him the whole story. “This is the first anniversary of my husband’s death.”

“Oh.”

That one short word held a wealth of meaning in it. It urged her to say more.

“If I can help—”

“Alexa wants to do something for her father but the grave site is in St. Louis—eight hours away. Any suggestions?” Desperation drove her to ask him. That and the fact that his expression coaxed her to believe he was different, that he would understand all her insecurities, the guilt she carried in her heart.

“Have her write in a journal. That can be very therapeutic. Maybe she could even write a letter to her father.”

Laura knew how therapeutic her correspondence with Cara was for both her and her friend who was dealing with her husband’s mysterious illness. Sharing their troubles made them seem bearable. “That’s a wonderful idea. I should have thought of that. How did you get to be so smart?”

He actually reddened. She suddenly wanted to brush her fingers across his cheeks.

“C’mon.” Peter pushed his door open. “We need to enjoy this mild day. Before long we’ll be faced with over a hundred-degree days and no rain in sight.”

She didn’t move until he rounded the front of his truck and stood waiting for her, not an ounce of impatience on his face, as if he had all the time in the world to hang around until she decided what she wanted to do. Instinctively she knew that if she wanted to go home he would take her. That made it possible for her to open her door and climb from the cab.

He unlocked one of the gates and stood to the side to let her enter first. He pocketed his keys. “One of the perks of being the high school principal.”

“A perk? You’re easy to please.”

Peter led her toward the nearest player bench on the west side of the field. “Actually, this place holds a lot of memories for me.”

The early-afternoon sun, almost directly overhead, bathed the grass in bright light. “You played football?”

“Don’t sound so incredulous. I was the kicker. It got me a college scholarship. Without it I don’t know how I would have gotten to go to college.” He sat and patted the wooden bench next to him. “But that’s not why this place is special to me. I used to come here a lot in high school to think. I still do.”

She eased down near the other end, afraid if she sat close she would tell him secrets she’d kept locked away. “The football stadium?”

“It’s perfect. It’s usually deserted, and chances are I’m not going to be bothered.”

“How’d you get in when you were in high school? Surely they didn’t give a student a key.” Tension stiffened her spine. This whole place with Peter was too dangerous for her peace of mind.
Leave before you share a part of yourself.
Her cautious side blared the warning.

He chuckled. “True. Sometimes it was open during the day back then. At night I had a gift of being able to open locks.”

“Peter! You picked the lock!”

“It was a piece of cake. Easily opened. Actually, it still does.” He leaned close and lowered his voice. “I think the powers that be knew about it but didn’t say anything. The coach was a good friend of Paul’s. He often worked with me on my kicking. He said a few
things that led me to believe he knew I came to the stadium after hours.”

His musky scent engulfed her as if it were reaching out to blanket her in a protective cocoon. His whispered words fanned her cheek, reminding her of other times when they had been so close that she felt his breath. But the scariest thing was that he’d shared with her a place that was important to him. Why did Peter’s revelation make her feel special and yet at the same time panicky?

He straightened, giving her some space as if he sensed her inner struggle. “Sometimes I’d pretend I was in the middle of a game and the whole outcome depended on my field goal. Or I would actually pretend I was the quarterback throwing the winning touchdown in the last seconds. Playing football gave me an opportunity to belong to a team, to be a part of something.”

Laura snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it! Sean needs to go out for the team.”

“I think you’re mocking me.”

She grasped onto his teasing tone and forced a lightness into hers. “Oh, no, whatever gave you that idea?”

“The laughter I hear in your voice.” He rose and tugged her to her feet. “C’mon. I don’t want you to knock the game until you’ve played it.”

“Then I can knock it?”

“Yes, but not to my face.” Although his expression was serious, his eyes held a twinkle.

She followed him out onto the field and slowly made a full turn, taking in the empty stadium, the bleachers,
the press box, the sidelines. The grass had recently been mowed and the smell surrounded her.

“I’ll be generous and let you score the first touchdown. I’ll be the quarterback. You, the receiver. Go down field, and I’ll throw you the imaginary football.”

Suddenly she experienced a sensation of traveling back to when she had been a cheerleader and Stephen a pass receiver. She hadn’t thought about that time in years. They had been the “perfect” couple in high school—voted most likely to end up together and have a wonderful life. Yeah, right, she thought—as tears she hadn’t been able to shed since his death tried to fight their way to the surface. She swallowed over and over, trying desperately to keep them inside.

Peter loped out to the fifty-yard line, but she couldn’t move. He turned toward her. When his gaze took her in, he covered the space between them at a jog and grasped her arms in a gentle hold. “Are you all right?”

She saw his concern through a sheen of tears.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“Laura? Did I say something wrong?”

Don’t cry.
But tears slid down her cheeks. She could taste their saltiness; she could feel their wet tracks.

“Ah, I’m sorry if I did. Don’t cry, Laura.”

Tears continued unchecked as memories tore down her composure. Peter drew her against him, stroking her back with long, even caresses. The emotions held at bay for months flooded her and she couldn’t stop crying. One part of her was alarmed at how comforting and wonderful his embrace was while the other didn’t care.
She drew strength from his arms about her. For just this one time she needed his strength.

What did I do wrong to make my husband hit me?

How could I have made my marriage work?

Why do I feel as though I killed Stephen?

Those questions crashed through her mind with no answers. They produced more tears until finally she had none left.

When she pulled back, staring up into Peter’s face, the sadness in his eyes almost made her cry again. With a supreme effort, she reined in her emotions, swiping her hands across her cheeks. Embarrassment bubbled to the surface. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually do that.”

“You must have loved your husband a lot.”

She couldn’t lie to Peter, and yet she couldn’t tell him that she had stopped loving Stephen that last year of marriage when his verbal attacks got more frequent. His words had undermined everything she had believed about herself and now she was struggling to find the person she was.

“Until I got out on this field, I hadn’t thought about when Stephen and I were in high school. He was on the football team and I was a cheerleader. We both spent many Friday nights in a stadium. We started dating our junior year and married six months after we graduated.”

A shadow clouded his eyes. “I married young, too. But my marriage didn’t turn out well.”

She didn’t correct his impression of her marriage because the words jammed in her throat. No one but Cara knew how bad her marriage had really been. And then, even her friend didn’t know everything.

“My wife filed for divorce three years ago. We had problems like all marriages do, but I never thought mine would end in divorce.”

A bond sprang up between Peter and her. His pain pushed hers aside, and she concentrated on comforting him now, taking his hand within hers, wanting to share what strength she had with him. “Why’d she want a divorce?”

His features darkened.

“I don’t mean to pry and you certainly don’t have to answer me. I’ll understand if you don’t. I—”

He put a finger up to her lips and silenced her words. A half smile graced his mouth. “I’ve worked my way through the pain. There are some things in life you just can’t change and the fact I can’t father children is one of them. Diana wanted a whole houseful of kids. I wanted that, too, but I couldn’t give them to her. She’s married again and has two children already.”

The fact that he kept track of Diana made Laura wonder if Peter had worked through his pain. He might think he had, but it lingered and could be heard beneath his words. She saw it in the tense line of his mouth, the wounded look in his eyes. She tightened her hand holding his, wishing she could draw his hurt into her. “You could have adopted. There are other ways to have a family.”

“Not in Diana’s mind. The bottom line was our marriage wasn’t strong enough to weather the storm. Now that I’ve had time to examine it with some distance, I realize we had grown apart. I was willing to go into counseling, to work on it. She wasn’t.”