Rainbow's End (14 page)

And she had to make that assumption. Despite Keith's kindness, she held no illusions about her ability to attract a man. Whatever beauty she might once have possessed had been marred beyond recognition. And romantic love was based—at least in part—on physical attraction. That didn't
mean you had to look like Miss America. But neither could you look like…well, like Jill Whelan. Maybe, someday, she might meet another man who could learn to overlook her scars and call her a friend, as Keith had. But that was the best she could hope for. If she chose to pursue an adoption, it would have to be with the understanding that she'd be on her own.

“Now let us stand and turn to number sixty-four in our hymnals as we raise our voices in song to the Lord.”

The minister's words, and the sudden rustle of movement as the congregation rose, brought Jill back to the present. As the organ began the familiar introduction to “Amazing Grace,” she turned to the correct page. At one time, she'd loved to sing. Now, her husky voice was suited to only the lowest notes. Still, she loved the words of this hymn. As must the minister, who seemed to include it in the service every week.

She opened her mouth to sing, but her voice faded when a new soprano joined in the refrain. Startled, her gaze dropped to Kyle, endearing in his new navy-blue blazer, his face clean, his cowlick dampened into submission. It was hard to believe he was the same little boy she'd first met, in worn, ragged clothes with a dirty face and uncombed hair. It was harder still to believe that the sweet soprano voice was coming from him. Though his spoken speech was still confined to a word or two here and there, in music he seemed to have found a release for the words bottled up inside. Jill looked over his head to Keith, whose pleasing, baritone voice had also been silenced by shock.

All at once, Kyle seemed to realize that the adults beside him had stopped singing. His voice faltered and he looked up at them, his expression uncertain. Jill forced a smile to her lips and squeezed his shoulder, then resumed singing. After a glance from her, Keith did likewise. A second later, Kyle joined in.

Not only did he have an uncanny ability to memorize lyrics and melodies, Jill realized, he also had perfect pitch. And if he could sing words, surely he couldn't be far away from saying them. She was anxious to share this latest breakthrough with his therapist. In the meantime, she expressed her gratitude in the quiet of her heart.
Thank you, Lord.

As they left the service a short time later, Reverend Campbell smiled and held out his hand in welcome. “Glad you could join us again today,” he greeted them. His shock of white hair and lined face spoke of advanced age, but his grip was firm and strong.

“I enjoyed your sermon,” Jill told him.

“Thank you, Jill.” The man always surprised her with his remarkable facility for names. Even though she'd been an infrequent attendee in the past, and Keith and Kyle were new faces, the minister always remembered their names.

“It's good to know I'm not getting stale after all these years. But I must admit I'm looking forward to retiring next year. In some ways it will be nice not to have to write a sermon every week. Though I expect I'll fill in on occasion back on the mainland, to keep my skills fresh.”

“You're moving?” Jill inquired.

“That's the plan. My son and his family live in Oregon, and the wife and I would like to be closer to the grandkids.”

“I can understand that. Children are a great blessing.” She rested her hand on Kyle's shoulders.

“Indeed they are. And I believe I heard you singing this morning, young man.” The minister leaned down, putting himself on the boy's level. “You have a very fine voice, Kyle. We'll have to think about getting you into the youth choir one of these days.”

When Kyle dropped his chin and didn't respond, the man stood again. “Keep that in mind, Jill,” he suggested.

“I will.”

“And it's good to see you, too, Keith. It's always nice to have new people in the congregation. I hope you'll be with us for a while.”

“Well, the studio isn't finished yet,” he replied noncommittally.

“Then I expect we'll be seeing you at a few more services.”

“Yes.”

“Good, good. And remember, if there's ever anything I can do to help, don't hesitate to call.”

While the man directed the comment to all of them, he held Keith's gaze a second longer than necessary.

As they walked back to their car, Keith pondered the man's parting remark. It was almost as if he'd singled Keith out for special attention. As if he knew that the younger man was in need of assistance.

In truth, the minister's insight was sound. Time was ticking by. Soon Keith would have some decisions to make. Life-changing decisions. And he could use all the help and advice he could get.

 

In the end, it was music that finally unlocked the door to language for Kyle. When Jill shared her experience at church with Marni Stevens, Kyle's therapist, the woman began introducing more music to his counseling sessions. She also suggested that Jill play music around the house and encourage Kyle to sing along.

It took some experimentation, however, to find the kind of tunes that appealed most to the young boy. Jill tried
gospel, country, pop, soft rock, jazz. A song here and there would catch his fancy, but none of the music sustained his interest. Until at last she hit pay dirt with the scores from the classic Broadway musicals. He could listen for hours to
Oklahoma, South Pacific, The Sound of Music, Brigadoon, Camelot
…they all captivated him. Soon he was singing along, finding release in the sometimes lyrical, sometimes lively melodies. And nothing warmed Jill's heart more than to hear him singing “Oh What A Beautiful Morning” at the top of his lungs in the living room while she prepared meals in the kitchen or worked on her latest painting in the studio upstairs.

Once he became comfortable with words in music, he began to use them in speech, as well. As his confidence grew, his halting single words gave way to phrases. She and Keith were still waiting for full sentences, but that would come, Marni assured them.

His schoolwork was also progressing. Jill discovered he had a sharp and agile mind, eager for information. He liked to learn and never fussed about spending time with books. She worked with him on his alphabet, while Keith took over simple math tutoring. He was such a keen student that Jill was confident he'd be ready for school after the holidays.

The bad dreams, however, were another story. His first few nights in her care had been quiet, giving her a false sense of security that at least the traumas he'd endured didn't plague his sleep. However, a few nights later he'd awakened her with wild sobbing and thrashing, and she'd had to face the reality. His exhaustion the first few nights had been deep enough to dispel his demons. But once he was rested, they'd returned.

Since it comforted him to have her nearby, she and Keith
moved his twin bed from an alcove in Jill's bedroom closer to her bed. That helped. Still, some nights were rough.

Like last night. For whatever reason, he'd been more restless than usual, awakening in tears several times. In the end, Jill had lain beside him, gathering him in her arms until he quieted and at last slept in peace. She, however, had gotten no more than three or four hours rest. When she dragged herself out of bed the next morning, the dark circles under her eyes were testament to her weariness. She could only hope a cup of strong coffee would help.

Twenty minutes later, sipping from an oversize mug in the kitchen, Jill looked over the rim to find Keith at the back door.

“Morning. The coffee smells good.”

“Help yourself.” Even after all these weeks, he never entered the house without an invitation.

Stepping over the threshold, he headed toward the pot, then stopped in his tracks as he took in her wan appearance. “You look exhausted.”

“Rough night.” She shrugged and turned toward the stove to prepare breakfast.

Moving to the coffeepot, Keith studied her back, noting the weary slump of her shoulders. Considering how her life had been disrupted in the past few weeks, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. She'd welcomed a stranger into her life. Taken in a troubled young boy. Reentered society after years as a recluse. All while she continued to pursue her painting. It would be a lot for anyone to take on, let alone someone who had endured the trauma Jill had. She had more spunk, more courage, more integrity than any woman he'd ever met. And her abundant kindness and compassion bestowed grace on all who touched her life.

Soon, the studio would be finished. But something else had begun while he worked to build a place where Jill could create beauty, he realized. Hope had taken root deep in his heart, along with another emotion, one that called for acknowledgment and yearned to be set free. Yet just as Kyle had been unable to give voice to words until he'd found the right avenue for release, neither could he give voice to what was in his heart until he put the past to rest once and for all. Only then could he, too, find release. Only then could he move on. He knew that now.

And he knew something else, as well.

It was time.

A
s the russet and golden hues of fall tinted the island and the studio neared completion, Keith began to spend more time alone. He accompanied Jill less on her outings with Kyle, and often disappeared in the late afternoon for hours at a stretch. Jill supposed he was preparing for a departure that couldn't be too far in the future, though she tried not to think about that. Or about the gap his parting would leave in her life. Instead, she reminded herself to be grateful for the gift of new life he'd brought to her. Without his acceptance, his encouragement, his kindness, Jill doubted whether she would ever have had the courage to emerge from the private, safe—but lonely—refuge she'd created, and to welcome Kyle into her life.

She'd always known Keith would move on, of course. He'd never made any promises about staying, never done anything to suggest he might become a permanent part of her life. After all, he had another life somewhere. A life she knew nothing about. And he continued to carry a sadness he'd never shared with her. That was what had led him to her island in the first place. He'd been running away—or toward—some
thing when they'd met. And while the pain in his eyes had dissipated since his arrival, it wasn't gone. Keith Michaels still had issues to deal with. Secrets he held close to his heart. And it seemed he would take them with him when he left.

For Kyle's sake, Jill did her best to appear happy, confining her heartache to the wee hours of the morning when she often lay awake, thinking about Keith and yearning for something so impossible she refused to even consider it. It was important to stay focused on what was best for Kyle, she'd tell herself. He needed joy in his life, not sadness.

Keith continued to do his part to help the little boy heal, as well, which only endeared him more to Jill. With infinite patience he built Kyle's trust, until the boy became his shadow, trotting around behind him, imitating him, eager for his approval and his smiles. The downside to that, though, was that Kyle, too, would be devastated when Keith left.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons Keith had slowly begun to withdraw, Jill mused, as she stopped watering the plants on the front porch to watch his car cross the meadow late one afternoon, heading for the road. She lifted her hand to wave as he passed, and he returned the gesture. For a brief instant she thought the car hesitated, as if he had considered stopping to visit with her. But then he kept going. And that was a good thing, Jill told herself. She had dinner to prepare and a little boy to think about. Turning, she moved toward the door and disappeared inside.

Watching her go in the rearview mirror, Keith was tempted to stop and follow her. But he had things to do, calls to make, a past to reconcile. That had to be his first priority. Only when he'd put yesterday to rest could he allow himself to think about tomorrow.

Forty-five minutes later, as he waited at the booth in Eastsound for his father to pick up the phone, he flexed the tense muscles in his shoulders. A lot depended on this call.

“Bob Michaels here.”

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hello, Keith. I've been waiting for your call.”

“Did you hear from anyone?”

“Sure did. It's all set up, just like you wanted. Two weeks from Sunday, nine o'clock sharp. Reverend Thomas was very cooperative. Sounds like a nice man. He said you wrote a fine letter, and he's willing to do anything he can to help make things right. He did say he'd like to talk with you before you come, though.”

The tension in Keith's shoulders eased. “Okay. Thanks for coordinating this, Dad.”

“Glad to do it, son. It's important for you to clear the air. Will you have time to pay me a visit while you're in the area?”

“Of course. I'll let you know the final timing when I have everything worked out. God be with you.”

“And with you.”

Feeling more at peace than he had in years, Keith headed back to his car and pointed it toward Rainbow's End. Jill had told him once that the worn, peeling sign had been there when she purchased the property and that she'd never bothered to remove it. He was glad she hadn't, because it described exactly the way he felt about the place. He hadn't found a literal pot of gold at Rainbow's End. But he had found the golden dawn of a new day. And that was even better.

As Keith passed the church where they attended services, he was surprised to see Reverend Campbell in front, planting some chrysanthemums around the sign. Keith slowed the car,
then on impulse pulled into the small, empty lot beside the church and headed over to talk with the man.

“Afternoon, Keith,” the minister greeted him, leaning on his shovel.

“Hello, Reverend. Nice day for gardening.”

The man chuckled. “I doubt these'll last long once the deer discover them. But it doesn't seem like fall to me without a few chrysanthemums. Some things just go with certain seasons, you know? Crocuses in the spring, daisies in the summer, mums in the fall, holly in the winter. Course, I suppose if you grew up in Florida or California, that wouldn't make sense to you.”

“I'm a Midwest boy, myself. So I understand.”

“Midwest, hmm. Whereabouts?”

“I grew up in Missouri. And I spent several years in Ohio.”

“That's a coincidence. I grew up in Ohio. Where did you live?”

“Maple Ridge.”

“I passed through there once. Pretty little town, I recall.”

“Yes, it is. So what brought you out here?” Keith didn't want to dwell on Ohio. Not today.

“The wife and I visited once and decided we liked this little island. Took quite a while to make the move, but in the end the good Lord must have wanted us here, because I got a call for this church. And I never looked back. It won't be easy to leave.” He let his gaze wander over the small white structure nestled in the woods, his expression melancholy. Then he took a deep breath and smiled. “But it's time. Funny how God lets you know when the time is right for things.”

“That's true.”

“My only concern is finding a replacement. I'd like to get
a younger minister in here. I think that would be good for the congregation. But young people would probably think this place is too far from the action.”

“It is quiet.”

“True enough. But sometimes it's easier to hear God's voice in the stillness. At least, that's how it worked for Elias.”

A pensive look came over Keith's face. He'd thought of that passage often in recent weeks as he soaked up the tranquility of the island. “‘And a great and strong wind before the Lord overthrowing the mountains, and breaking the rocks in pieces: the Lord is not in the wind,'” he murmured. “‘And after the wind an earthquake: the Lord is not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire: the Lord is not in the fire. And after the fire a whistling of a gentle air. And when Elias heard it, he covered his face with his mantle.'”

The minister gave him a shrewd look. “You know your Bible. Tell me, Keith, what did you do before you came to Orcas Island?”

A hot flush rose on his neck. “I was a carpenter. I worked with my dad.”

“Hmm. Good, honest profession. Greatest man who ever lived was a carpenter. Well, you seem to have a real interest in the Good Book. If you ever want to talk more about that, look me up.”

“I'll remember that. But first I…I have some things to work through. The past couple of years have been…difficult…and I'm still struggling to get back on track.”

“Life can be a trial, no doubt about that. But let me share another favorite verse with you, one that's always given me comfort in hardship. ‘God keeps his promises, and he will not allow you to be tested beyond your power
to remain firm; at the same time you are put to the test, He will give you the strength to endure it, and so provide you with a way out.'”

“Corinthians.”

The man nodded. “I thought you might know it.”

“Sometimes, when things are really bad, even strong faith can falter.”

“Very true. Consider that the disciples themselves had doubts. And they were in the Lord's presence every day. How much harder it is for us to believe without seeing. We're all Thomases to some degree, Keith. I think there are times in almost every life when we lose our way. I know that was true for me.” A deep sadness stole some of the light from his eyes. “I mentioned my son to you not long ago, after services. But I also had two daughters. They were killed in a bus accident, on a mission trip to an impoverished area near the Mexican border. Sixteen and eighteen. Beautiful, intelligent, godly young women who had much to offer.”

He folded his hands on top of the shovel handle. “For months after that I turned away from God. I didn't understand how He could do that to me, a man who had dedicated his life to spreading the good news. I felt lost and alienated. But when I let the anger go, when I sought God with a humble heart and laid my despair at His feet, He picked me up and led me home. I think He does that for anyone who comes to Him in sincerity and humility. But it can be a long, painful journey.”

A lump rose in Keith's throat. This man, too, had suffered a terrible tragedy. And he, too, had felt abandoned and adrift. Yet in the end, he'd found his way back to God. And in doing so, was able to infuse others with hope. “Thank you for sharing that, Reverend.”

The man laid a hand on Keith's shoulder. “I hope it helps you on your journey. I'll keep you in my prayers.”

“I appreciate that. God be with you.”

As Keith returned to his car, he pondered the chance meeting with the minister. Odd that he'd been out planting mums just as Keith drove by. Yet their impromptu meeting had given him new hope and opened up new possibilities for his future.

And as he drove away, back to a place he was rapidly coming to think of as home, he realized that maybe it hadn't been chance at all.

 

“Okay, Jill, I've put them off as long as I can. It's D-day. Yea or nay on the gallery show?”

Shifting the phone to her shoulder as she stirred a pot of soup, Jill knew she couldn't delay her decision any longer. Madeleine had been stalling the Seattle gallery for the past week as her client battled her doubts. While Jill wanted to take advantage of the great opportunity a show would offer, the thought of putting herself in the spotlight still scared her to death. It was one thing to venture out for Kyle's sake—with Keith by her side, ready to catch her when she faltered or stumbled after a particularly strong reaction to her appearance. And there had been a few. In Seattle, however, she'd be on her own. The center of attention. She wasn't sure she was quite ready to make that leap yet.

“Jill, are you there?”

Madeleine's voice pulled her back to the conversation. “Yes. Sorry. Thanks for being patient about this, Madeleine.”

“I'd hate for you to pass up this opportunity. They don't come along very often. And you won't have to do this alone, you know. I plan to stick to you like glue. We want to generate
some commissions out of this, and I intend to do some very aggressive selling. That's my job.”

In fact, Jill knew it was more than that. Madeleine was also her friend—now that she'd opened the door and let her in. And even before that, the woman had been a strong advocate of her work. She'd also taken a chance on her at the beginning, when Jill had no credentials as an artist. Maybe she owed it to Madeleine to agree to the show. And to herself.
You can do this,
Jill asserted in the quiet of her heart.
With God's help—and the help of people like Madeleine—you'll find the strength.

“Okay,” Jill said, clutching the phone a bit tighter.

A couple of beats of silence passed. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Well, fabulous! The gallery will be thrilled.
I'm
thrilled! I'll call them right now and get things set up. Then we need to have lunch to celebrate. Check your calendar, and when I call back with the details on the show we'll pick a date. And I'm not taking no for an answer.”

Memories of the horrible lunch with Deb crashed over Jill. So traumatic had the experience been that she hadn't stepped inside a restaurant since. But she didn't look quite as unsightly anymore. Even Dominic had noticed the improvement. And it had been a long time since she'd frightened a child. As for adult reaction—why should she let one mother's inconsiderate actions rob her of the chance to experience a nice meal with a friend in a restaurant?

“Okay.”

Another beat of silence ticked by. “You know, this has all been a far easier sell than I expected,” Madeleine admitted at last.

“Let's just say that it's time I made a few changes in my
life. But I may need you to bolster my courage now and then.” Jill tried for a teasing tone, but didn't quite pull it off.

“I don't think you have anything to worry about on that score, Jill. You're one of the most courageous people I've ever met.” Madeleine's serious response surprised—and touched—Jill, but the woman moved on before Jill had a chance to reflect on the comment. “Okay, I'll be in touch. In the meantime, keep painting!”

That sounded more like Madeleine, Jill thought as she hung up the phone. Yet the woman's first remark replayed in her mind. While she was warmed by Madeleine's compliment, Jill knew that she wasn't courageous at all. She was more scared and uncertain and worried than she dared let on, overwhelmed and anxious about all the changes in her life and all the responsibilities she'd taken on.

But God seemed to be pushing her in this direction. Urging her to revise the plans she'd made for her life when she'd first come to this island more than two years ago. And it was important to remember one thing, she reminded herself. His plans were always better.