A Heart's Refuge

Rick frowned at her comment. “What do you mean?”

“Your grandfather lived in Calgary years and years ago. When he was a teenager. Apparently he used to come courting my mother in those days.” Cora winked at Rick. “Bet he never told you.”

And a few more pieces of the puzzle that was his grandfather fell into place. “No. He never did. Is your mother still alive?”

“More than alive. Right, Becky?” Cora asked, drawing a reluctant Becky into the conversation.

“She’s a character, that’s for sure,” Becky said. She gestured toward the closed doors of the auditorium. “Sorry, but I gotta go,” she said vaguely, taking in both her mother and Rick. “Practice.”

“I’ll see you Sunday,” Rick couldn’t help but say.

She turned to him, her eyes finally meeting his, her lips drifting up in a crooked smile. “Church starts at ten-thirty. See you then.”

He felt a reluctant admiration for how neatly she had cornered him. Church was one of the last places he wanted to be on a Sunday morning, but he couldn’t let her get the upper hand. Not after what he’d read. “I’ll be here.”

She held his gaze, as if challenging him. But when she left, Rick felt a curious reluctance to hang around any longer.

“I should get going, too,” he said. “Gotta get ready for tomorrow.”

Cora’s light touch on his arm surprised him. “I’m looking forward to finding out more about your grandfather. I like a mystery.”

“Nothing mysterious about Colson Ethier,” Rick said. Except for a twisted desire to send his grandson on a trip down his own particular memory lane. He would be talking to Grandpa Colson as soon as he got a chance. “I’ll see you Sunday. Thanks again for the invitation.”

Becky tapped her fingers against her chin as she glanced around the foyer of the church once more. Rick better show up soon or she was leaving. When Cora Ellison told her she should be the one to make sure he’s welcome, Becky only agreed out of a sense of guilt.

She shouldn’t have snooped in his Day-Timer. Not that she found anything out. He had a year’s worth of dates written in his immaculate handwriting and none were of a personal nature. The only phone numbers were business related. His life looked empty, unappealing and sterile.

“Don’t do it, Becks.” Leanne, her sister, caught her hand as it edged toward her mouth. “Your nails are just starting to grow back.”

“And since when do you care about my nails, Leanne?” Becky said with a quick grin, slipping her sister’s arm through hers.

“Since I’m wondering if you’re ever going to get a boyfriend again.”

“A manicure isn’t going to do it and you know it.”

“Oh, please, not another ‘look not for the beauty nor whiteness of skin’ lecture. I get them enough from Mom.” Leanne squeezed her sister’s arm. “If you spent more time on your hair and makeup, you’d get a guy lickety split.”

“That’s a little simplistic. Besides, I have lots of guys.”

“But they’re all just friends,” her sister complained. “I can’t believe you don’t care about guys. I know Trevor didn’t break your heart that much.”

“He only dented it a little.”

“So why don’t you two go out again? I heard he’s back.”

“Trust me, he’ll be gone once the snow flies. I’m not going to date some guy who is just hanging around here, waiting for a chance to leave. This is my home and this is where I want to live.”

“If you found the right guy, I’m sure he’d be able to talk you into leaving.”

Becky tapped her little sister on the nose. “You see, that’s the problem. The right guy for me is one who doesn’t want to leave.”

Leanne pulled back, frowning. “I think I get it.”

“Let me know when you do.”

“So how long do we have to wait for this Rick guy?” Leanne said, brushing her long brown hair back from her face. “I promised Donita I’d sit with her.”

“Just a few more minutes.” Becky glanced at her watch, hoping Rick wouldn’t show. Now, or for lunch after church. But what she hoped even more was that he hadn’t read her Day-Timer. Like she’d read his.

“Okay, Becks. New guy alert.” Leanne tugged on her arm, her eyes riveted to the door. “Shaggy hockey hair. Nice mouth. Gorgeous eyes.” Leanne added a dramatic sigh. “He’s wearing a suit, but otherwise he’s movie-star adorable.”

Becky glanced toward the object of her sister’s gushing. And straightened as disappointment and a tingle of anticipation flitted through her. Rick’s suit gave him an authoritative air at odds with the haircut, or lack of it, that was currently labeled “hockey hair”—long enough to hang out the back of a hockey helmet. “He’s also my boss.”

Leanne’s mouth dropped. “That’s Rick Ethier?”

“Let’s go say hi and get that part over and done with.” Becky snagged her sister’s arm, and walked purposefully toward him.

Rick stood in the doorway, looking, she had to concede, a little lost in the wave of people drifting past him.

Someone caught her by the arm, halting her progress. Louise, a woman from one of the committees Becky was involved in. “Becky. Just wanted to know if you’ve had a chance to go over that banner idea Susan put together.”

“Not just yet. I’ll check it out this afternoon,” Becky said.

“I was thinking we could get your sister to help sew it.”

Becky nodded, keeping an eye on Rick.

“Sorry, Louise,” Leanne said, rescuing her. “We’ve got to catch someone before he leaves.”

And it looked like he was about to. He had his hand on the door when they caught up to him.

“Good morning, Rick,” Becky said, catching his attention. He turned to them and for a moment Becky saw a flicker of an unknown emotion in his blue eyes. Relief? Disappointment?

“Welcome to the service,” Becky said with a forced smile. “Mom asked me to make sure you were properly greeted when you came.”

Rick smiled back. “Well, tell your mother thanks.”

“You can tell her yourself,” Leanne said, glancing from Rick to Becky with avid interest. “You’re supposed to sit with us.”

Becky flashed her sister a warning glance, but Leanne studiously ignored her sister, her entire attention focused on Rick.

“By the way, Rick,” Becky said, wishing her sister was more circumspect. “This is my little sister Leanne.” Becky put heavy emphasis on “little” hoping she would get the hint.

But Leanne just ignored Becky.

“That’s okay. I’m sure I can find a place,” Rick said.

“No. Come and sit with us.” Leanne touched Rick on the shoulder, winking at Becky. “That way we don’t have to find you after church. Makes sense, doesn’t it, Becky?”

“Perfect sense,” Becky said dryly. “Now we better go.”

“Becky is going to be singing in the worship service later on. She’s got a great voice,” Leanne said as Becky led the way through the crowd.

“I’m looking forward to hearing her,” Rick said.

Becky’s heart sank at his words. When she had maneuvered him into attending church she had forgotten she would be singing this morning.

And when she saw her family all sitting together, she regretted her impulse even more.

Just about the whole shooting match was watching her as she and Leanne led Rick up the aisle to the empty spot beside her parents. The only ones missing were Colette and her boyfriend, Nick.

“Hey Dad. Mom,” Becky said, flashing her brothers and sisters a warning look to dampen their sudden interest in the man behind her. As if that would help. Her family was as curious as magpies and just as nosy. Becky showing up with a man in tow was going to cause a lot of chatter and unwelcome questions.

She dropped onto the pew, and started reading the church bulletin as if trying to show them by her disinterest that he meant nothing.

But Leanne, the little stinker, had positioned Rick so he was sitting right beside Becky.

“Are you going to introduce us?” her father asked, nudging Becky.

Becky looked up at her father with a pleading expression, but his steady gaze reinforced years of ingrained manners. So with a reluctant sigh she turned to Rick, but he was looking away from her.

She touched him lightly on his arm to get his attention. He turned to her then, his eyebrows arched questioningly.

“Rick, I’d like you to meet my father, Sam Ellison. Dad, this is Rick Ethier. And my mother, Cora, you already met.”

Cora leaned over and waved, then turned as her attention was drawn by one of the kids behind her. Sam leaned past Becky, shaking Rick’s hand. “Pleased to meet you finally. We’ve heard about you from Becky, of course.”

“Really?” Rick’s gaze flicked back to Becky, his eyes glinting. “I didn’t think she gave me a second thought once she left the office.”

Not only second thoughts. Third and fourth ones, as well.

Duty done, Becky returned to her reading. But her entire attention was focused on the man beside her.

Chapter Four

Would he look bored if he crossed his arms?

Rick shifted in his seat, fidgeted, then did it anyway. It had been years since he’d attended church. Not only did he feel out of the rhythm of the church service, he also felt out of place sitting with Becky’s obviously close family.

Beside him, Becky leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her chin planted on the palms of her hands, her attention on the preacher. Seeing her head canted to one side and her mouth curved in a half smile, he caught a glimpse of the girl he only saw when she was around other people. She wore a pale blue dress today in some kind of floaty, peasant-looking style. It enhanced the auburn tint of her hair, brought out the peach of her complexion. Pretty in a fun, semiflirty way. Not that she would be flirting with him.

“So I want to encourage all of us to pray for people who hurt us,” the minister was saying, and Rick pulled his attention back to the man. “Praying for our enemies frees us from bitterness. From hatred.” He paused a moment as if to bring the point home.

“As William Law said, ‘There is nothing that makes us love a man so much as prayer for him,’” he continued. “So Christ’s command to pray for our enemies is not only for our enemies’ good. It is for ours, as well.”

Rick looked down at the toes of his shoes as the minister’s words pushed him back to his last memory of his mother. She was sitting at a desk in her bedroom, her head bent over a book. When he had asked her what she was doing, she told him she was praying for him.

He looked over at Becky and wondered if she, too, had been praying for him as her parents had suggested. He doubted it.

The congregation got to its feet, breaking off his thoughts.

As the worship group came forward, Becky slipped past him, walked down the aisle and up to the podium. Without any announcement she picked up a cordless microphone, took her position on the stage and cued the group leader with a faint lift of her chin.

The music started quietly, the gentle chords of the piano picking out the melody, the electric organ filling in the spaces.

Becky faced the congregation, waiting as the rest of the musicians joined in. She stood perfectly still, holding the mike with one hand. An overhead light shone brightly on her, singling her out from the rest of the singers. At a pause in the music, she started singing.

Her voice rang clear as the words of an old familiar song poured out of her. “‘Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.’”

Rick recognized the prayer. Had mumbled the words himself as a young boy still trying to please his grandfather.

But he had never heard them sung with such crystal sincerity. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Becky as she closed her eyes and her hand lifted up, palm up in a gesture of surrender. She was a woman in communion with her God, her prayer pouring out of her in song, peace suffusing her features.

And as she sang, he heard in the depths of his soul, a still small voice, familiar, yet long suppressed.

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