Second Chance Father

“What’s wrong with him?” His voice had taken on a different tone than before, still as deep, but compassionate too.

“I can’t tell you anything patient-specific, but since he is at the children’s home, it’s common knowledge that he lost his family.”

“How?” The word came out thick and raspy. “How did he lose his family?”

She needed to get back to Willow’s Haven, but the concern in his masculine tone caused her to answer. “A car crash. Cody was the sole survivor.”

A shadow passed over his face, a look of sadness, or longing. Merely a flicker of emotion, but Elise saw it.

He turned his attention to the tree branches shifting overhead, and the thick cords of his neck pulsed as he swallowed. “He lost his family.”

Her background gave her a keen sense at reading people. This man had been hard to interpret at a distance, but now that he stood so close, she could tell from the tiny twitch beneath his eye that he worked hard to keep his emotions in check.

She suddenly wanted to know more about this mysterious stranger who lived in the woods. Glancing at his left hand, she saw no ring. And then she mentally stopped that train of thought. She lived in Birmingham and had a great practice there. This was a special case that would have her staying at Willow’s Haven for a time, and then she’d leave. Moving away from Cody. And away from the big, sensitive mountain man undeniably similar to the last guy who’d captured her heart. Then shattered it.

“I’m Jack.”

She’d been so absorbed in the painful memory that she had missed part of his conversation. But now that he’d offered his first name, she waited to see if he’d give her the last one too.

He didn’t.

Elise sighed. She needed to get back to the issue at hand, taking care of Cody, and not the fact that the last guy she’d given her heart to made her a widow at twenty-eight. “Well, Jack, if Cody comes this way again, can you make sure he gets back to Willow’s Haven?” She pointed to the right fork of the trail ahead of her. “Down that way.” It wasn’t a clear path, but it was manageable, obviously, since Cody found his way through the woods and to Jack’s cabin.

“There wasn’t an orphanage there when I bought my place.”

Elise was used to the misconception about the home. “Willow’s Haven isn’t an orphanage, even though some of the children have been orphaned. A children’s home differs in that it provides a safe sanctuary for children who are without a family, for any reason.”

And then she focused on what else he’d said. “Willow’s Haven has been open for a year now. When did you buy your place?”

“Nearly two years ago.” Another look passed over his face, and she read it clearly. Sadness. More specifically, grief.

What—or who—had this man lost?

“You’ve been living here for two years?” Why would anyone choose to live like this? “By yourself?” she added and then wished she’d kept that query silenced.

“No, I bought it two years ago, but I only recently moved in. I had to—” he paused “—take care of a few things first.”

And that made her wonder what things had taken two years to take care of. And what kind of job allowed him to live out here in the middle of nowhere, where only one cellular company managed to provide service, and even that was spotty at best. “But you’re planning to live here, long-term?”

He nodded and offered no additional information. “Do you want me to call you if I see the lad again?”

Normally she’d have thought of that from the get-go, but being this close to the guy rattled her senses. “That’d be great.” She didn’t have a card on her, hadn’t anticipated running into anyone when she headed into the woods after Cody. But she needn’t have worried about having a card.

He slid long fingers into his jeans pocket to withdraw his cell, then asked, “What’s your number?”

Alarms blared through her head, all initiated from years of warnings from her three older brothers, but even so, she recited her number and watched him key it into his phone. Probably the easiest set of digits the man had ever received.

She felt weird surrendering her contact information like that. But she didn’t give out her number to just any guy who asked. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d suggested they go out to dinner together. Or that he ever would.

“I’ll call you if I see him...” He let the word hang and then lifted the phone to show the empty contact field on the display. “But I still need your name.”

“Elise,” she said. “Elise Ramsey.”

He entered it into the appropriate box. “Got it.”

She took a step back and, bizarrely, found herself not quite ready to leave. But her patient was at Willow’s Haven, which meant she should get there too. “I’ve got to go see to Cody.” She walked away from the guy who’d taken her by complete surprise, both with his appearance in the forest and with the effect he had on her senses.

“I want to help him too.”

Elise tripped over a tree root, stumbled, but caught herself before falling completely, and then she pivoted to see the guy whose words had rocked her to the core.

He stood grounded to the spot, raising his brow as though waiting for her to tell him how he could help.

“That’s real nice of you.” She struggled to figure this man out. First he scared her to death, then he admitted that her patient had been to see him—twice. And now he asked to help said patient. “But I’m not sure what you could do.”

Oak leaves crunched beneath his feet as he took the few steps needed to lessen the gap between them. He stopped just shy of her three feet of personal space, which was good. The sky had darkened as late afternoon turned to early evening, and she still didn’t know a whole lot about the man. Except that he was big and rugged. Socially challenged. And even more attractive up close.

“He must be interested in my cabin, or in the furniture I’m building, or something. Maybe I can use that to break down his barrier and get him to talk.”

Elise homed in on the part he’d said that would potentially interest Cody. “I’d almost forgotten. His father was a carpenter. Is that your occupation too?”

“No. I worked in the film industry.” The slight shake of his head at the end of the sentence told Elise he wished he hadn’t told her that much. “You think he came around because he saw me building furniture?”

She decided to leave the film industry comment alone. She wasn’t here to get information about Jack; she needed to stay focused on her patient. “From what I’ve read about Cody’s history, his interests never aligned with his father’s occupation.” She would’ve left it at that, but he seemed to drink in every tidbit about the boy, so she explained, “Cody is an autistic savant.”

His head tilted. “Like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man?”

Elise sighed. As much as that movie didn’t portray the vast scope of the savant syndrome, it did do much in alerting the general public to the specialized care needed by those individuals diagnosed with the disorder. “Cody is similar to that,” she said, “but his area of expertise is rather unique. Dustin Hoffman’s character specialized in math. Cody specializes in cars.”

“Cars?”

“Specifically the muscle cars of the sixties.”

Awareness coated his features, and the right corner of his mouth crooked up at the edge. “He’s had on a classic car shirt both times I’ve seen him.”

“And he’ll have another one on if you see him again. That’s all he’ll wear.” She heard a branch crack behind her and jerked around so fast that she lost her balance.

A large palm caught her left bicep and steadied her before she fell.

“You okay?” His face hovered near to hers. So close that she could see genuine concern in those uniquely colored green eyes.

Her personal space was officially invaded, big-time, resulting in her heart traipsing into a nice gallop. “I’m...fine.” She eased away from the warmth of his hand. “I should get back to Willow’s Haven, and to Cody.”

“I meant what I said, about helping him,” Jack stated firmly. “If his dad was a carpenter, then he can help me out with the furniture I’m building. Maybe that’ll let him cope with the loss somehow.”

Anything that would get Cody to ease out of his shell would be progress, but Elise doubted carpentry would do the trick, based on his prior caseworker’s files. “I’m not sure...”

“If that doesn’t work, I have another idea.” He gave her a moment to respond. When she didn’t, he added, “You should let me try. I know what he’s going through.”

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she withdrew it to see another text from Savvy.

Pretty sure Cody is looking for you.

She wanted to ask Jack what he meant. How did he know what Cody was going through? He’d assumed Willow’s Haven was an orphanage. Had he been orphaned too? Was that why he’d decided to remove himself from society, remain holed up in middle-of-nowhere, Alabama?

“Bring him back tomorrow. Let me help.” His words were almost delivered as a command, and Elise wondered what kind of position of authority this guy held in the past that he believed people would do his bidding simply because he stated it.

Even so, she wanted to help Cody. Needed to. And the boy did seem drawn to this guy. Then again, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t drawn to him too. There was something about him...

She cleared her head, thought about what was best for her patient. “It’d be better if Cody came back on his own, instead of me trying to force him to do anything.”

“Okay. But I think he will.”

Elise nodded. Cody had been here twice in two days. There was no reason to think he wouldn’t make an effort to return again tomorrow. “I do too.”

He gave her a slight smile, as though pleased she gave the right answer, and, again, she wondered what kind of power this man had held—or still held—in his world. Showing her his phone, he added, “I’ll call you when he does.” Then he indicated the path behind Elise. “You should probably go before the rain.”

“What rain?” she asked, as a loud boom of thunder in the distance made her jump, and then a heavy drop of water plopped on her nose.

“I’ve always sensed when storms are coming.” His voice rumbled almost as fiercely as the sounds echoing from the dark clouds overhead.

“Call me if you see him again.” More drops plopped on her head, and she became aware of the musty odor and heaviness permeating the air. Then she turned and darted down the trail but chanced one more look over her shoulder to see Jack, standing in the rain, watching her disappear into the woods as if he wanted to make sure she made it back safely.

Why did she have the impulse to turn around, run the opposite direction...and make sure he found his way home too?

Chapter Two

Jack sat on the front steps of his cabin and watched the how-to video on his laptop. Before yesterday, he’d have sat inside to view the next steps involved in building a seven-drawer dresser, but now that he knew the boy he’d encountered actually existed, he didn’t want to miss his reappearance. In fact, he had a difficult time paying attention to the video, because he couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering to that spot in the woods where Cody had appeared.

And then Elise.

Throughout the night and most of today, he’d found himself thinking as much about the woman as the boy. Or more. He’d been impressed with her willingness to approach him, a stranger, in order to find and protect her son.

No, not her son, her patient. That had surprised him, the way she’d shown so much motherly instinct toward a child for which she shared no blood bond. A beautiful thing, really. In another place and time, he would’ve taken that exquisite situation, the layers of emotions, peeled them away from the surface and studied them, then analyzed the best way to portray a woman who cared so deeply on the big screen.

Gritting his teeth at the way his mind always went there, he stopped thinking about the large screens of the past and instead turned his attention to the small screen in front of him, the one showing a master woodworker describing how to build the drawers. But Jack hadn’t finished the frame, and he’d glazed over during the applicable part, his thoughts on the grieving boy and intriguing woman instead of his current task.

He restarted the last section of the video and watched it again. The simple action of repeating the segment brought back a memory of JJ, standing outside Hollywood’s ArcLight Cinemas at the prescreening of The Journey.

Dad, what happens when someone has to leave to go to the bathroom or something? How do they know what they missed without talking during the show?

Jack had laughed that the boy, only six or seven at the time, already knew the rules of silence during those screenings. Then he’d explained that most often the audience could determine what they’d missed by the foreshadowing layered throughout the earlier frames, or by the dialogue or actions in the scenes that followed. Or they could simply buy another ticket and see the movie again. That last portion of Jack’s answer had been overheard by a reporter and included in reviews about the film. JJ had been thrilled to have had a part in the written reviews.

And Jack had looked forward to the day when he’d see his son following in his footsteps.

Ready to begin working and get his mind off the past, he shut the computer. He’d watched the portion on building the frame several times already and knew he wouldn’t make it much further than that today.

It wasn’t as if he was in a rush to build everything for the cabin, anyway. Jack had no idea what he’d do next, after making all of his own furniture. But he’d find some way to pass the time. Something to learn. Something to do. Some manner to push through the eternity of days God probably had planned for him. Days without his wife and children. Days to remember what he’d had, and what he’d lost.

For some reason, a vision of Elise, her mouth agape as she tried to understand why he hadn’t notified anyone about seeing Cody, flashed through his mind. He wondered if she had children of her own. She appeared to be about his age, thirty-two, or a little younger. Late twenties or early thirties. And very attractive. He’d thought about that several times since yesterday too. Her heart-shaped mouth, dark chocolate eyes, flushed cheeks. Those rose-tinted cheeks, however, were probably more a result of her shock at learning he’d seen Cody the day before and hadn’t called anyone.

There was something fascinating about a woman fiercely protecting her own.

He huffed out a breath. It didn’t feel right thinking of her as attractive, or fascinating, or anything else. He’d loved Laney and didn’t plan to care about anyone that way again. It hurt too much when God took her away. Even so, he couldn’t stop glancing at the end of the trail and wondering if Elise would return.

Standing, he moved to the piece of mahogany already positioned for sanding on his sawhorses and prepared to uncover the beauty that would form the top of the dresser. Surely that would keep his mind off things he shouldn’t be thinking.

He eyed the expensive piece of wood and wondered if he could do it justice. Typically, Jack didn’t attempt anything he couldn’t do well. Laney had often joked that she hadn’t found an aspect of life where he didn’t excel.

“You never saw me try to build furniture, did you?” he asked, though Laney certainly wasn’t around to hear.

Jack’s heart thudded in his chest. She’d have gotten a kick out of seeing him talk to himself, as well as watching him try to learn the mechanics of carpentry.

His father was a carpenter.

Elise’s words trickled through his thoughts, reminding him of the boy who’d also lost his entire family.

Jack couldn’t deny that he wanted to see Cody again. Nor could he deny that he wanted to see Elise again too. But he’d come here to get away from memories of the past, and a woman who cared so deeply, as well as a traumatized boy who desperately needed help, wouldn’t do anything to keep those memories at bay. However, Jack’s desire to reach out to a youngster struggling with the same grief that pierced his senses outweighed his instinct to protect his heart from more pain. He hadn’t lied to Elise; he wanted—needed—to help the kid. But helping Cody would be near impossible if the boy wouldn’t stick around long enough to interact with Jack.

He decided to replace thoughts of Elise and Cody with his concentration on the task at hand. Besides, the dresser would never get finished if he simply stood here looking at the woods all day watching for two people who might never return. He’d come here for peace, for solitude. He shouldn’t want visitors.

He shouldn’t.

Jack breathed in the distinctive scent of sawdust and turned his attention to the mahogany. Before coming here, he’d never thought about the process of building furniture, but since he started, he couldn’t help but notice the parallels of creating a functional piece from mere wood and the Creation. God had crafted something beautiful out of nothing.

Jack’s mind tripped over an idea, where a furniture builder spent hours upon hours generating a prized masterpiece, pouring his heart and soul into something that would stand the test of time, but the piece has no idea about its maker. The product of the creation has no appreciation for the love and care that went into its very existence.

Or does it?

As he gently sanded and slowly exposed the beauty of the wood grain, Jack honed the idea.

What would happen if, by the passing of the beloved piece of furniture from one generation to the next, a story unfolded about the love of that original creator displayed to each of his descendants, as long as the generations remembered him, appreciated him and made an effort to pass on his legacy? The depth of the love would only intensify and increase as generation after generation cared for its existence, protected it with their heart and soul.

How would audiences best relate to the scenario?

Jack played with thought after thought, idea after idea, until hours had passed. And then he realized he’d sanded the same spot for way too long, and the wood was no longer a piece of beauty. The marred blemish claimed all attention, extinguishing the perfection surrounding the scar.

Why were eyes always drawn to the flaw?

This would never be a piece to pass down to generations. He’d ruined it. Because he hadn’t been paying attention. Frustrated, he picked up the once expensive piece of wood, now worthless, and hurled it aside with gusto.

A movement to his right caught his attention, and he glanced up in time to see Cody retreating backward into the woods. How long had he been standing there while Jack lost himself in the plot? And in the pain of his past?

Jack had waited all day to see the boy, and now that he’d returned, he’d scared him away when he took his frustrations out on a piece of wood. “Cody?” Another urge to pray pushed forward, but he ignored it. “Why don’t you come here and see what I’m doing? I’m building—attempting to build—furniture. Working on a dresser.”

The boy wore a long-sleeved navy T-shirt with an old-fashioned red, white and blue Ford Mustang emblem on the front, jeans and tennis shoes, black with white soles and laces. His shoestrings weren’t tied, and Jack hoped he didn’t trip, but he also didn’t want to say anything about it. He wouldn’t do anything to threaten Cody’s slow, timid progression across the yard.

The boy scanned the area, particularly the sawhorses and tools, and then his attention moved to the discarded piece of wood. Veering to the left, he moved within a few feet of Jack in his quest to reach the mahogany. He was taller than Jack originally thought, thinner too, with long, lean fingers that cautiously reached toward the wood. He crouched beside the wide plank, then ran a palm reverently down its length.

Jack held his breath, waiting to see what the boy would do. Cody looked up, his eyes filled with pain, with a confusion Jack felt to his soul. Although he didn’t speak, no words were necessary. And another whisper of an idea flitted across his brain. What if an entire movie followed the chronicles of an autistic boy, a brilliant, grief-ravaged boy who refused to share his thoughts with a world that didn’t care.

But Jack cared.

And he felt the need to explain his actions to the distraught boy. “The wood is no longer any good. It’s my fault. I sanded it too much.”

Tears slid down Cody’s cheeks.

Jack wanted to show him how badly he felt for scaring him. He moved toward the boy...

And messed up again.

In an effort to keep Jack at bay, Cody fell backward, the white soles of his shoes flashing in the afternoon sunlight when he caught himself with his palms. Helpless to do anything but watch, Jack stood stone-still as Cody’s behind hit the ground and he scooted away like a trapped animal attempting to flee.

Jack knew better than to make any type of move toward the kid, so he remained where he stood and made his voice as calm as possible. “I won’t hurt you, Cody. I promise. I was just going to see if I could help.”

Dark eyebrows dipped as Cody shuffled away, the heels of his shoes pushing against loose leaves and dirt in his retreat. He shook his head, a dark wave of bangs shifting with the move, while his attention darted from Jack to the discarded mahogany and back again.

And then his confused expression landed on Jack’s thick beard.

Before Jack could say anything else, Cody scrambled to his feet and darted into the woods, disappearing down the path, while Jack ran a hand across the scruffy mess covering the lower half of his face.

* * *

Elise had made it about ten feet down the trail when she met Cody coming from the opposite direction. Conflicting emotions slammed her with his appearance. Happiness that he hadn’t stayed gone long and found his way back without problem, and disappointment that she hadn’t needed to go farther down the trail to find him, as in all the way to Jack’s cabin.

She had no doubt that Cody had been to his favorite spot, but unfortunately, his time away hadn’t produced a positive demeanor. His face was drawn and tense, eyes fixated beyond Elise as he brushed against her on the trail. “Cody?” She turned to follow him but stopped when her cell vibrated in her pocket.

Assuming she knew who was on the other end, she kept an eye on Cody as he headed toward his cabin and answered, “Hello?”

“He came back, but I scared him away.”

The frustration in Jack’s voice tugged at her heart. “What happened?”

A sharp intake of breath echoed through the line.

“Jack,” she said, “how did you scare him away? I need to know so I can help him.”

“At first, I thought it was the wood, but now I think it was the beard. Should’ve shaved it.” His words were delivered as if talking more to himself than to Elise.

Her eyes slid closed, and she gripped the phone, his behavior reminding her of so many conversations from the past, when she had to decipher what Anthony tried to say and fill in the missing pieces.

God, please, don’t let me get sucked into trying to fix another man.

But even as she thought the words of the prayer, she found herself empathizing with the guy who had tried to help Cody and had come out short. “You said something about wood?”

“A piece of mahogany. I bought it for the top of the dresser, but then I got to sanding it and had my mind on—” another pause “—other things.”

Her counselor’s instinct pushed at her to ask about the “other things,” but her experience with Anthony held those words in check. She didn’t need to get too involved in Jack’s world. Didn’t want to find herself close enough to get hurt. She cleared her throat and prepared to tell him that she needed to see Cody, but his heavy sigh of discouragement forced her to continue the conversation until he found some form of comfort from his efforts to help her patient.

“You were sanding wood when he got there?” She visualized Cody happening upon Jack involved in the task and knew that he undoubtedly equated the man with some semblance of the carpenter who had raised him and loved him. But she didn’t know why that would have upset Cody. “Did it seem to bother him?”