Heart's Haven (11 page)

But his prayer for healing had not been answered.

He had to get his post-traumatic stress disorder under control or risk impacting his ability to help. That’s why he was down in the kitchen—to corner Cassidy, to get her to head people off before his entire calendar filled up with people looking to him for help.

He’d been here twice—both times she’d been on the phone, adamantly refusing to meet someone. Though curious, Ty didn’t pry, and besides, if she asked for his help, he wouldn’t have any answers to give.

“Cassidy? Are you here?” he called.

The kitchen seemed unusually silent for four in the afternoon. Two pots gently bubbled on the stove, a huge bowl of Mac’s favorite bread pudding cooled on a sideboard while the oven wafted a robust tomato aroma that set his stomach growling.

Apparently she was out.

Ty turned to leave, heard the steel door in the stairwell creak open.

“Come on, lean on me. It’s not far now.”

Ice chilled his veins as two figures entered.

Jack, his face bloodied and his clothes torn, hung on to Cassidy, his breathing harsh. Cassidy’s black hair lay mussed against her cheek. Her ski jacket was ripped at the pocket, her calm smile replaced with tight-lipped fury. As if to emphasize that, a smear of dark red dashed across her chin.

Blood.

For a moment Ty got sucked into the past, a cross somewhere between Donnie’s last moments and the never-ending nightmare of war.

Please God, not now.

He pulled oxygen deep into his lungs, then deeper, until they could hold no more. Then he exhaled and brought the world back into focus. Cassidy helped Jack onto a nearby chair. Neither one seemed to notice his space out.

“What happened?” Ty hurried over, helped ease off Jack’s coat. The boy’s moan did nothing to reassure him.

“Get the first-aid kit from over the sink.” Cassidy turned her back, pouring water into a big stainless-steel bowl. She grabbed a clean tea towel and began gently dabbing at what would soon be a glorious black eye. “Ty?”

“Yeah.” He pulled the kit off the shelf, set it on the table and snapped open the lid. For once his precautions paid off. He laid out alcohol swabs, gauze pads, ointment, anything he thought they’d need.

Since Cassidy was so totally in control, Ty held back, did as she asked and waited until the last cut was covered.

“Do you need a doctor, Jack?”

“No.” The boy glared at him through one eye, holding ice against the other. “I’m fine.”

That belligerence got to Ty but he told himself to relax.

“What happened?”

“Someone jumped me.”

“Why?”

Jack and Cassidy shared a glance that bugged Ty.

“I asked why.”

“They wanted the airplane.” Jack’s voice shook slightly. “Boe and I were flying it in the yard.”

“But I thought—” Ty bit off the words as fast as he could, but it was too late. Jack knew what he’d been going to say.

“I know you said we’d do it together, but you’re so busy, Uncle Ty. And I wanted to see how it worked.” The boy hung his head. “Boe had to go home early, so I figured I’d give it one last try. I guess that’s why I didn’t hear them coming.”

“How many?”

“Two.” Jack burst into tears. “They took it. I’m sorry, Uncle Ty. So sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen but—” His sobs died away. He scrubbed at his eyes. “It was the best gift I ever had and I lost it.”

“I’m just glad you’re all right.” Cassidy hugged him, grimaced when he yelped with pain. “Sorry. It wasn’t your fault, Jack.”

“Wasn’t it?” Ty ought to turn around and walk away, get out of this room before he said something he would regret. He ought to, but sheer anger took over. “I specifically told you to wait for me. But once again, you couldn’t follow my directions. You had to do it your way.”

Jack glared at him.

“That’s not fair,” he burst out. “I always do it your way. You say you’ll be five minutes and you’re three hours. You promise you’ll do things with me but you never keep your promises. You always push me to the sidelines because you think I’m too young. I’m not too young, Uncle Ty.”

Ty opened his mouth, saw Cassidy’s face and reversed course.

“People will begin arriving soon for supper. This is neither the time nor the place.”

“It never is,” Jack muttered.

“I need to think about this. I’m going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“How? By tying me up?” Jack looked to Cassidy for support but she remained silent, her pale face troubled. “I didn’t cause it, I didn’t do anything wrong. But that won’t matter, will it? You’ll just think up some more rules I have to follow.”

Jack lurched from the chair, grabbed his jacket and hobbled across the room. He paused, his voice brimming with hurt.

“Just once, it would be nice if you could look at me and see me as a competent person who doesn’t go around doing lame things.”

A moment later he was gone.

“He’s right, you know,” she said.

“You’re taking his side.”

“There are no sides here, Ty.” One hip against the table, Cassidy crossed her legs at the ankle and her arms across her chest. “You don’t treat Jack properly.”

Shocked by the comment, Ty frowned. “What?”

“He’s a good kid, usually respectful. He gets good grades. He puts up with your excuses and broken promises and not having the life most kids do at his age. But you offer him very little understanding.” She bit her bottom lip. “He didn’t mean to have the plane stolen.”

“I know that. It’s not about the plane.”

“Isn’t it?” She straightened. “I think it’s all about the plane. And your brother. And your guilt.”

“Playing psychologist, Cassidy?” he mocked.

She nodded, as if she’d expected him to say that.

“Go ahead, Ty. Snap at me. I was walking around the block to get some fresh air. I didn’t check with you first. Maybe you should dock my wages or something.” Her eyes brimmed with hurt and anger.

“Don’t be silly.” Why hadn’t he stayed upstairs?

“When does it stop? When will you have enough safeguards in place that you can let go and relax?”

Never.

“I’m responsible for Jack. It’s not wrong for me to want to make sure he’s safe.”

“It’s not wrong for you to take an afternoon off and go skating with him, either. But you never make the time. Have you asked yourself why?”

She was getting too close. Ty wanted to turn tail and run but that would only give Cassidy the ammunition she needed, so he pretended what she said next didn’t matter, pretended he didn’t care what she said or thought, pretended the sight of Jack’s battered and bruised face hadn’t gutted him.

“You know so much—tell me.”

“I think you’re scared stiff that Jack is going to turn out like your brother, a runaway who got into drugs and ended his life on the streets.” Cassidy leaned forward, her tone daring him to argue. “I think you’re so afraid that you’ll disappoint Gail that you’re putting Jack in a straitjacket of rules so he won’t get hurt.”

“And here I thought you were just a cook.”

She flinched at his snipe but she didn’t look away.

“Lash out at me, Ty, if it makes you feel better. Put me down all you want, but please, stop hounding Jack. You’re only making things worse.”

“You would know. You being his best friend and all.” His petty jealousy burbled out from its hiding place, shaming Ty.

“I’m trying to help him. And you.”

“By siding with him against me?”

“I’m not doing that.” Exasperation echoed in the slap of oven mitts against the counter. “You
were
right about one thing, Ty. I don’t have time for this. May I suggest you find a way to get Jack involved in this place? Because if you don’t, he’s going to look somewhere else for someone who’ll spend time with him, someone who won’t berate him every time something bad happens.”

Like Donnie did.

She didn’t say it but Ty could read the unspoken remark in the frosty glare Cassidy shot his way before she turned to rescue her casseroles from the oven.

He searched his brain for a way to bring back her generous smile, to wipe out the ugly words he’d tossed at her.

“I’m sorry” was the best he could come up with.

As he climbed the stairs to the roof, Ty whispered a prayer for help.

“I’m pushing everyone away because I’m scared.” He watched the sun sink below the horizon. “If running the Haven is what You want me to do, I need help, God.”

The words hung in the air like warm breath on a cold winter’s morning, shedding a clarity Ty had never seen before.

Maybe God didn’t want him here.

Maybe he had it all wrong.

Maybe it was time to admit he’d made a mistake, to call Elizabeth and ask her to find someone else.

Donnie was gone.

But Jack wasn’t.

Not if Ty could stop him.

What would Cassidy think?

M
ultitasking had never come in so handy.

“I did look at it, sis. The location is perfect for the kind of restaurant I want to run.” Cassidy held the phone to her ear with her shoulder, using her hands to shape biscuits for tonight’s stew dinner.

She listened for a moment, nodded, though no one was in the kitchen to see it.

“I know I should put a deposit on it, but it’s only the first of March which means I’ve got four more months here before I can work on my own plans. And then there’s the other thing. I want to make sure that’s settled before I go ahead.”

Then she kept her mouth shut while her sister sang their reformed father’s praises.

“I’m glad you’ve mended things with him, if that’s what you want. But I don’t—want that, I mean. I can’t forgive or forget that easily, sis. And I sure don’t want him back in my life, ruining everything I’ve tried so hard to build.” Cassidy gritted her teeth as the boil of anger festered inside. “Maybe you think he’s changed, but I don’t trust him.”

They talked a few minutes more before Cassidy made an excuse to hang up.

She smacked the dough into a ball, flattened it and stabbed the cutter into it, muttering dire imprecations through clenched teeth.

“Should I come back later?” Ty leaned in the doorway looking as if he’d just left a Mediterranean cruise ship. “I think there’s steam coming out of your ears.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” The stiffness between them remained. “Something you need? I’m only a humble cook, but I’ll do my best to satisfy, sir.”

She expected another apology, though he’d already offered many. What she didn’t expect was his laughter.

“You are mad. Here.” Ty removed his jacket, puffed out his chest. “Take your best shot.”

The mischief flirting in his eyes pushed Cassidy off balance.

“What are you talking about?”

“Throw the dough at me. It will make you feel better.” He braced his feet wide apart and slung his arms at his sides as if preparing for the onslaught. “Go ahead.”

Ty looked positively lighthearted. And extremely handsome.

If only—Cassidy broke free of her wishful thinking.

“You’ve been breathing in too many paint fumes, Ty. You’d better head up to the roof, clear your sinuses.” The dig was too hard to resist. He was forever hiding out on that roof.

“Just to be clear—you’re refusing to throw that at me, right? Fine.” He tilted up his chin in a cocky attitude reminiscent of Red. “But don’t think I’m going to give you a second chance. Next time you may have potatoes or eggs nearby.”

“And your pretty clothes would get messy, wouldn’t they?” she teased, won over by his good humor.

“I do not have ‘pretty’ clothes. Do I?” He plucked his shirt away from his midsection as if to check for frills. “Blue. Very masculine.”

And a great compliment to those gorgeous eyes.

While he pulled his jacket on, Cassidy concentrated on finishing her biscuits. Anything to avoid staring at him.

“How’s the sign going?”

Ty paused in the act of pouring himself a cup of her fresh coffee, made a face.

“Not exactly as I’d envisioned. There’s paint all over the place, but Jack seems to be enjoying it.”

“It was a great idea to have him work with you on that.”

“Approval, Cassidy? For me?”

She hadn’t heard him move behind her and when she turned Cassidy couldn’t avoid meeting his gaze.

“If you’re asking if I think you did a good thing by asking Jack to help paint a sign for this place, then yes.”

“You mean I actually did something right?”

“You’ve done a lot of things right, Ty, and you know it. I keep hearing how great you are at helping people figure out problems.”

“But not yours, hmm?”

He was too close but Ty didn’t seem to think so. He remained in place, sipping at his coffee, watching her in that analytical way that made her uncomfortable.

“I don’t know what you mean. Excuse me.” She edged past, her heart rate clopping in her ears like horses’ hooves racing for the finish line.

Once the countertop was scrubbed down there wasn’t anything more to do. The meal was ready. But with Ty hovering she couldn’t relax. She poured herself a cup of coffee, added cream. Finally sat down on one of the kitchen stools she kept handy. Ty sat across from her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about whatever had you walloping that dough? Or arguing on the phone yesterday and the day before.”

“You were listening?” She felt trapped, cornered.

“Not intentionally.” He held her gaze with his soft blue stare. “You can talk to me, Cassidy. I’ll listen.” A wry smile touched his mouth. “I might not be much help but I will listen. You can trust me.”

Trust? It was tempting to unload her fury. But Ty was all about God and how He cared for those who were His children. And Cassidy was way past trusting Him. So she stared into the mocha-colored brew and kept her mouth firmly closed.

“Is it—er, man trouble?”

The delicacy of his question caught her unawares.

“What?” A hot flush rose as she got the gist of what he was asking. “I do have man trouble but not from a boyfriend.”

“Okay.” A curious smile flickered across his face for an instant, but he said nothing more, simply sat. Waited.

She wanted to trust him. So badly.

“It’s personal,” she sputtered.

“Problems usually are.” He poured himself another coffee, held up the pot until she shook her head. “What kind of man trouble?”

“You’re very pushy.”

“I’m concerned. Jack and I have dumped on you often enough, I think it’s time I reciprocated.”

“You were the guy who didn’t want to counsel anyone, remember? Now you’re looking for work? Is there a chance you could just forget it?” She kicked her heel against the stool leg, hoping her snappish tone would be enough to kill his interest.

“Not a single chance.”

This was the edge of a precipice. If she told Ty the truth, if she risked showing him the bitterness and anger she’d kept inside for all these years, risked letting him witness that stupid, vulnerable girl, she also risked his condemnation.

And Cassidy did not want Ty to condemn her. But—

She took a deep breath and jumped over the edge anyway.

“My father wants a reunion,” she blurted, her stomach churning with disgust.

“Ah.”

At least he hadn’t judged her.

“I don’t want to see him. Ever.”

“He must have really hurt you.” Ty’s expression held no judgment, no surprise, nothing but a welcoming interest.

“Hurt me? He did his best to ruin my life.” She couldn’t quite stop the venom that oozed into her voice. “My mom wasn’t in the grave a day before good old Dad was smashed out of his mind and screaming at us.”

“He must have been in a lot of pain after losing his wife.”

That infuriated her.

“Yeah, a lot of pain. He lost his punching bag.”

Ty didn’t say anything but a glint of understanding flashed through his eyes and Cassidy knew he understood why she’d been so curious about his comments to Irina on the subject of abuse.

“We girls weren’t doing so hot, either, having just lost our mother. But we knew better than to look to him for any comfort. He might as well have died with her for all the good he did us.” She expected Ty to frown in disgust, to lecture her for saying such an awful thing. Her sisters had.

But Ty’s handsome features didn’t alter. “You don’t mean that, Cassidy.”

“Don’t I?” She closed her eyes, exhaled and pretended a lack of concern that simply wasn’t true. “I was prepared to forgive him, you know. Years back I could have let it all go, the abandonment, the misery, the lies. After all, I survived, got out. I was making my own way.”

“Was?”

Cassidy smiled at his quickness. Ty didn’t miss much.

She closed her eyes and in an instant she was back in that shabby upstairs bachelor room, full of high hopes and expectations.

“Go on.”

“You may live to regret saying that.” She gathered her thoughts and pressed on. “My sisters were almost finished with college. I had enough money saved to pursue my dream. The next day I was supposed to leave for Paris.”

“And your dad showed up.”

Cassidy would have smiled at his astuteness, but it hurt too much.

“Not when I was there.”

“What does that mean?” His brows drew together in confusion. He shifted in his chair, as if to brace himself.

“He learned of my plans somehow. He sat outside my place and waited until I was gone. Then he conned his way inside, went through my stuff and stole my cash, my ticket, everything. By the time I returned, he’d stolen my entire dream.”

Ty sat silent, studying her. It was as if he understood she needed time and space to regroup, to collect her composure. Then again, maybe he didn’t know what to say about her sorry little tale. Maybe he regretted coming down here now.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Cassidy.” He brushed her shoulder with a gentle hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Aren’t we all?” She cupped her mug in her hands and let the steamy warmth caress her cheeks. “I was really sorry when I sat there, in the room I would have to move out of in less than forty-eight hours. I was more than sorry that I was homeless without a dime to pay for a new place. And believe me, sorry doesn’t begin to describe how I felt knowing I’d spent years working overtime, weekends, holidays so I could scrape together enough money, and he took it as if it was his. He couldn’t even look me in the eye, had to sneak in. Well, I’m not going to be sorry again.”

Ty’s hand dropped away. A frown marred his good looks. “But maybe—”

She smiled. He was good at listening, yes. Ty had heard. But he hadn’t understood.

But then how could he? His home had been happy, his family normal.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s funny how often I’ve heard that.” Cassidy shook her head. As the strands of hair brushed her face she wished they had the power to wipe out her past. “Maybe he had an excuse that makes it all okay.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Maybe doesn’t help when your sisters are crying because they’re hungry and you can’t find a thing in the cupboards to feed them, Ty. Maybe doesn’t put a present in your stocking on Christmas morning. Maybe doesn’t cough up the money you need to go on a school trip with all the other kids.”

Cassidy struggled to close the lid on the past.

“My father has not been part of my life since the day he broke into my home. I see no need to meet him now that he feels guilty.”

“But—”

Whatever he was about to say, Cassidy didn’t want to hear it.

“I’m not going to listen to his tales of woe and say that I understand, because I don’t.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t understand how any father could do that to his child and I sure don’t understand how a so-called loving God could let it happen.”

“You can’t blame God.”

“Isn’t He supposed to be all-powerful?” She glared at him, daring him to excuse God’s part in this.

“He is.” Ty sighed. “Cassidy, you have to see your father sometime.”

“Why?” She forced a smile. “That man was never a real father. He wasn’t there for me when I needed him. He abandoned us more times than I can imagine. He abused us and my mother.”

“And?”

“And now I’ve abandoned him. I’m free of him, and I intend to stay that way.”

Ty frowned. His fingers pleated then smoothed the soft wool of his pants. When he lifted his head, Cassidy glimpsed a shadow in his eyes and knew she wouldn’t like hearing what he was about to say.

“But you’re not really free. You’re carrying around this load of hate.” Ty held her gaze. “Sooner or later you’re going to have to forgive him so you can move on.”

Cassidy jumped up from her stool, winced as it crashed to the floor behind her. She’d trusted Ty, believed he’d understand. But he didn’t.

Why hadn’t she kept her ugly secrets to herself?

“Forgive him?” Harsh laughter exploded from her. “Is that what the Bible says?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

She shook her head. “I will never forgive him.”

“You’ll have to, if you want to heal.” The smug remark rolled out of his mouth as if he’d memorized it years ago.

“That’s a crock, Ty. Psycho mumbo jumbo you guys drag out to make people feel guilty whenever they talk about their real emotions.” Fury punched out the words. “Anger is an appropriate response. So is bitterness. I’m not going to pretend both of those, which I’ve felt for years, will be washed away if I hear him say he’s sorry. Facing him isn’t going to heal me no matter what your Bible says about it.”

He rose slowly from his chair.

“Has anger or bitterness helped you, Cassidy?” His quiet voice fell into the silent room.

“They helped me survive, push myself to make my dreams come true.”

“I thought Elizabeth did that.”

“She provided the opportunity. I grabbed it—who wouldn’t? But I made the most of it by focusing on what I had to do.”

Ty’s hand closed around hers as if to soften his next words.

“Is that why you push so hard here, Cassidy? Is that why you work twice as much as you need to, take on more and more? Because you’re over your bitterness? Because you’re past your anger?”

“I’m using them to spur me on. I thought you wanted this place to be a success. I thought I was helping.” She dared him to deny it.

“Oh, I’m not complaining.” Ty smiled. He looked so relaxed—so unaffected—by what she’d told him. “You’re making a huge difference here. And everyone appreciates it. But are you doing it because you’re committed to the Haven?”

“Why else?” She straightened the stool, glanced at the clock. Anything but look at him.

Ty tilted her chin so she had to look into his eyes.

“Or are you doing it because there’s a chance your father may come back into your life and you need to prove that you are worth loving? And you’re trying to show him how much he missed out on?”

She’d thought he didn’t understand—but how could he know that?

Cassidy grabbed a pair of pot mitts but Ty held her hands.

“Nothing’s going to burn so don’t pretend. There’s always been truth between us, Cassidy. Let’s not stop now.”