A Dad for Her Twins. Lois Richer
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feel unwelcome. If you’d rather leave—”
“Stop apologizing for something you can’t change, Cade.” The twinkle in Abby’s green eyes surprised him as much as the smile twitching at the corner of her lips. “Anyway, I think tonight was good for him.”
“Good for—” He gaped at her. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Did you see the way he kept grabbing that pen and writing on the paper?” She spread her small, delicate hands wide. “You told me he hasn’t been doing his physiotherapy. But he was sure giving those fingers a workout tonight.” She rose, walked to the end of the table where his father had been sitting and gathered the scrunched-up pieces of paper from the floor. Then she laid them on the table, one by one on top of each other, looked at him and grinned. “See?”
Cade moved to stand beside her. He sifted through the sheets of paper, each with an angry word scrawled across it.
No! Won’t have it! Quiet! Stop. Some of the words were repeated. There were fourteen sheets in all. It was the biggest effort Cade had seen his father make since his stroke.
He lifted his head to stare at her, confused but somehow more lighthearted than he’d been in years.
“Maybe my being here isn’t so bad after all,” Abby said timidly, “if it forces your father to fight, and by that I mean put out some effort. Isn’t that good for him?”
“Abby, your being here isn’t bad at all. You bring lightness that’s been missing from this place for a long time.” As he said it, Cade realized the truth in his words. She’d been in his home only a few hours but already Abby made things seem bearable, though he wasn’t sure exactly how she did it. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly.
“I am, too.” Her lovely smile flashed at him. “Maybe God can use me to help you, as you’re helping me.”
“God again.” He frowned. It was a recurring theme with her.
“He’s part of my life, part of everything I do, part of every decision I make.” Abby tilted her head to one side and studied him. “I trust God.”
“Such unshakable faith. I wish I had it,” he said, and meant it.
“I don’t know that it’s unshakable,” she told him thoughtfully. “But you can have it. Faith is yours for the taking. In Ephesians 1:19 Paul prayed we would understand the incredible greatness of God’s power for those who believe. But the power is only activated when we believe, so that’s where I put my focus.”
A hundred questions buzzed through his head, but just then the doorbell rang. Cade glanced at his watch in surprise. It was late for visitors and highly unusual for anyone to just show up at the ranch. Abby followed him to the entry. Cade blinked when the town’s mayor, Marsha Grant, surged through the open door and shoved it closed behind her.
“Mayor Grant,” he said, taken aback as he always was by her forwardness.
“Good evening, Cade.” She smiled at him, then turned to Abby. “And you’re Mrs. McDonald, correct? Abby McDonald?”
“Yes.” Abby blinked and glanced at Cade, who shrugged. “How do you—”
“My daughter used to work with you. She saw you ride into town with Cade. She tells me you’re a social worker.” The mayor tilted back on her heeled boots. She removed her thick glasses, polished them with her vivid purple scarf and returned them to her face. “I’ll explain that later. I’m here about something else.”
“Would you like to come in? I can make a fresh pot of coffee.” Cade didn’t like the flicker of fear he saw cross Abby’s face. Perhaps she was in more trouble than he realized. His protective instincts pricked as his mind ran scenarios. Perhaps...
I trust God, Abby had said. Dare he do the same? But God hadn’t come through for Cade, not once in all the years he’d prayed for reconciliation with his dad.
“Can’t stay, thanks. Emergency.” Mayor Marsha’s short staccato sentences were simply the way she always spoke, but Cade interpreted Abby’s frown as concern.
“What kind of emergency?” he asked.
“You have acted as a child’s special advocate before, have you not?” Marsha focused on Abby, ignoring him.
“Yes,” Abby agreed. “But I haven’t been in social work for some months. I was laid off and—”
“Yes, yes,” the mayor said impatiently. “But your credentials are all active? You could return to work anytime you choose, correct?” Marsha’s stare was relentless.
“Yes, but I’m going to have twins in three months. I doubt anyone would hire me in this condition, especially knowing I’d soon be taking time off to be with my children.” Abby shook her head. “I doubt I can be much help to you.”
“Oh, yes you can.” Marsha chuckled. “You can be a very big help to me tonight, if Cade’s agreeable.” Finally she turned her attention back to him. “I have a situation.”
“Okay.” Cade pulled forward a small chair from near the entry door and urged Abby to sit. “We’re listening.” Her smile of thanks sent a feathering of warmth through him.
“There was a serious accident tonight,” Marsha explained. “Two people died, the parents of young Ivor Wynne, age ten. Buffalo Gap is his community, his home, the only place he’s ever known. But I’m afraid Children’s Protective Services will take him to a home in Calgary until next of kin can be contacted and decisions about his future made.” Mayor Marsha’s gray eyes grew steely. “Unless I can change their minds.”
“I’m so sorry,” Abby whispered.
Cade’s heart also contracted with sympathy. Poor kid.
“I will not have that child taken from here.” Marsha insisted. “I need someone who has the credentials, someone who knows what to do in these situations, to act for him so he doesn’t have to leave the only place he’s ever known as home.”
“You want Abby to be in charge of him?” Cade shook his head, irritated that she’d asked and more annoyed that Abby seemed to be considering it. “She can’t. She’s pregnant and tired. She needs to rest.”
“I could do it, Cade,” Abby said very quietly. “It wouldn’t be hard on me to help this boy through such desperate circumstances. But I’d want your agreement.”
“Mine?” He frowned. “Why?”
“Because he’d have to stay here. Unless you’d want me to take him somewhere else?” Abby’s big green eyes brimmed with compassion.
“But—this is a working ranch.” Cade gulped, desperate to avoid getting involved. He didn’t want another kid to experience his father’s vicious temper, to feel as stupid and useless as he had. He turned to Marsha. “This isn’t really a place for kids. Besides, my father is an invalid who needs constant care. Mrs. Swanson has her hands full. Who will look out for this boy when Abby needs to rest?”
“He’s ten, not an infant, Cade. But we can work all that out.” When Abby gazed up at him like that, Cade’s anger dissolved. “I trust God to help us,” she added quietly.
How could a guy argue with that?
“I’d like to know a little more about how your daughter knows Abby, that she’s a social worker.” He waited for Marsha’s response, grabbing at anything to stall the inevitable.
“My daughter visited me today for lunch. We were just coming out of the restaurant when you and Abby drove through town. My daughter waved but I guess neither of you noticed.” Marsha turned to Abby. “She used to work in your building. She said you even shared a few cases.” The mayor smiled at Abby’s surprise. “My daughter is Cindy Sharp. She’s in Legal Aid.”
“Cindy