North Country Family. Lois Richer

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North Country Family - Lois  Richer


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me is in strictest confidence, but I need to know,” he said. Without thinking, he slid his hand across the table, over hers.

      For a few moments Rick was certain she would tell him to forget it, that she didn’t want to talk anymore. But she looked at him for a long time, and Rick held her gaze. Gradually her shoulders relaxed and her brown eyes lost their dark anger. She slowly pulled her hand away and exhaled.

      “Tell me,” he murmured.

      “Noah’s stutter started quite a while after his dad died, after everyone in the church turned on us when they discovered the money was gone,” she said tiredly. “I became their scapegoat and Noah, too. The kids at school tormented him, called him the son of a thief.” Tears formed on her thick golden lashes. “Noah was a total innocent. We both were. But when I tried to explain, no one would listen. To them we were as guilty as Eric. Noah’s friends dumped him, parroting the nasty ugliness of what their parents said. That’s when he began to stutter.”

      “Cassie, I’m so sorry.” Rick hated the tears streaming down her lovely face. Holding her was folly, but how could he not offer her comfort?

      He stood and moved to sit next to her, taking her in his arms slowly, gently, in case it wasn’t what she wanted. He felt the tension break in her as she wept against his shoulder.

      “They were Christians, Rick. They were supposed to love us.”

      “Yes, they were.” How he wished he could ease this load from her. It broke his heart that her husband had caused so much grief and then abandoned her to face the consequences, that God’s children had wreaked so much havoc on her son. “I’m sorry they didn’t love you as Christ taught, Cassie. People are more important than lost money.”

      “Oh, they got their money.” Cassie pulled out of his arms, dashing away her tears. Her voice grew harsh. “I sold the house and gave the money to the church to cover the loss.”

      She’d sold her home? Rick couldn’t imagine what that decision had cost her, a single mom responsible for housing her child.

      “I didn’t do it because I felt guilty,” Cassie said, her tone short. “I did it because I wanted them to stop torturing my son. But they didn’t. They thought it wasn’t enough, that I should cover the two years of interest they’d lost.”

      “But surely when you explained—”

      “I stopped explaining,” Cassie said, her voice passionless. “They displayed nothing but hatred for us. Before he ended it all, Eric tried to make it right. He sank every bit of our savings into trying to rebuild their fund. But he couldn’t do it. So when he was gone, I found out there was no cushion for Noah and me, no life insurance, nothing but my part-time nursing salary to support us.”

      “Your parents couldn’t help?”

      “My mother died when I was nine. Ever since then my father has been...busy.” Cassie’s voice dropped. “He blamed me, too, for not knowing what Eric was doing. So I stopped trying to defend myself.”

      Rick could see how much it cost Cassie to say this. He longed to pull her back into his arms, but for a moment, he questioned his motives. Did he want to offer her more comfort or did he simply love the feel of her in his arms? He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to that question.

      “The day Noah got beaten up by his former friends was the day I knew getting him more counseling wouldn’t help. We had to leave.” Her eyes were dark beneath her damp eyelashes. “But leaving hasn’t helped. I can’t get him to let go of his anger.”

      “We’ll figure out a way,” Rick assured her. “Don’t worry, Cassie. Once the two of you are involved in our church groups—”

      “I won’t be involved in them.” She looked at him with an iciness that dared him to argue. “I can’t be in a church, near people who call themselves Christians, without having it all come rushing back.”

      “These are not the same people, Cassie.”

      “But it’s the same God. Where was He when my son—my innocent son—was being bullied? Why didn’t He help us?” She glared at him, demanding answers.

      “He did help you. He led you here,” Rick murmured. “To a new life and a chance to start over.”

      “I will start over,” she said with a nod. “But I don’t intend to make the same mistake twice. I will not trust God again. It’s too hard when He fails to come through.”

      “Cassie—”

      “Don’t.” She shook her head. “I know what you’re going to say. It’s the same thing my father said to me. Jesus never fails.”

      “It’s true.”

      “In my case it isn’t.” Cassie held up a hand. “Don’t trot out any more verses, Rick. I’m a preacher’s kid. I’ve heard them all. But I don’t believe in them. Not anymore.”

      So much pain. Rick knew he had pushed Cassie to her limit, and now it was time to back off.

      “I’m sorry.”

      “So am I.” She emptied her cup in the sink then turned to face him, her voice hard. “I hope you’ve heard enough to figure out how to help Noah because I don’t intend to talk about this ever again.”

      “I appreciate your confiding in me,” he told her quietly.

      “If Noah wants to sing in your choir, I have no objection. If he wants to attend your church, that’s also fine.” The gold in Cassie’s brown eyes flashed. “But don’t expect me to do the same. Despite my father’s admonitions about fleeing the fold, and any rebuke you might want to add, I will not be part of your congregation, Rick. Now, excuse me. I need to change.”

      Cassie swept out of the room and in that instant Rick’s heart rate ripped into skyrocketing overdrive.

      He suddenly realized why her face seemed so familiar.

      Rick had seen a photo of a young Cassie every time he’d visited John Foster, the minister who’d saved him countless times while he was living on the streets, and who’d mentored him on his path to salvation and helped him get into seminary.

      John carried a picture of Cassie in his wallet, and had a larger one on his desk. Sometimes Rick had come upon him staring at her photo, murmuring a prayer for her.

      If he was honest, Rick had to admit he’d also been a little resentful of Cassie. She had a real home, a fantastic father who loved her, people who took care of her and made sure she was safe.

      It had seemed to Rick that Cassie had everything and he had nothing. No family, no permanent address, no one who cared if he came or went. Even worse, there was no one to soothe his hurts. Oh, how he’d longed for that.

      Rick wasn’t sure how it had happened but the more he saw Cassie’s photo, the more he’d stared at it, until he’d begun imagining a future in which he had all the things she did—a home, a family and love.

      Funny thing was, as he and John deepened their friendship, Rick began to understand how deeply the caring father mourned the fact that he wasn’t able to be with his daughter as much as he wanted. And why hadn’t he?

      Because John had been spending his time with Rick trying to help him find a way out of his life on the streets.

      One more thing Rick had to feel guilty about.

      His soul groaned under the weight of it.

      * * *

      When Cassie finally returned downstairs, the house was bustling and Rick was gone.

      “L-look, Mom,” Noah said, excitement glowing in his blue eyes. “It’s s-snowing like c-crazy.”

      “Sure is,” she agreed after a glance out the window. “Does this mean the fireworks for tonight are canceled?” she asked Laurel.

      “Rick


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