North Country Family. Lois Richer

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СКАЧАТЬ d-dad stole f-from our ch-church.” Noah rubbed one eye then put his glasses back in place. “Th-then he k-killed himself. M-mom said he was t-too a-ashamed to t-tell us.”

      Rick wanted to hug the kid, but Noah’s rigid expression said he wouldn’t tolerate that.

      “My f-father died r-running away. And now that’s wh-what we’re d-doing, too.”

      “Running away?” Rick stared at him, surprised by the disgust in the boy’s voice.

      “My m-mom calls it s-starting over,” Noah muttered.

      “That’s way different than running away.” Rick frowned when the boy shrugged. He tried a different approach. “You and your mom must miss your dad, Noah.”

      “M-my mom m-maybe. She c-cries when she th-thinks I c-can’t hear her, but I d-don’t cry for him.” Noah’s fingers tightened around his iPod.

      “I’m really sorry,” Rick told him sincerely. He suppressed a groan. What an inane remark. “That’s not much help, is it? But you can pray about it.”

      “I don’t p-pray,” Noah said, an edge tingeing his voice. “N-not anymore.”

      “That’s too bad because God hears the prayers of His kids,” Rick said softly.

      “Maybe He h-hears but He d-doesn’t answer.” Noah turned his head away.

      “God always answers, Noah.” A yearning to help this angry, fatherless boy swelled deep inside Rick. “You know, a lot of us make mistakes that we wish we could undo. But that doesn’t mean God doesn’t hear our prayers.”

      “Then wh-why doesn’t He m-make things d-different?” Noah demanded.

      Rick had asked himself that same question a thousand times, mostly whenever he was reminded of his last days as a stockbroker, right after he’d made that last, greedy, too-speculative gamble and lost his clients’ money. Seniors, single parents, a fund to help the needy—they’d all put their trust in wonder broker Rick Salinger. And because he was so desperate to prove he was better than the no-account street kid he’d been, he’d skipped the due diligence and invested in a scheme that cost them everything.

      With that memory came waves of guilt. For a moment he got sucked into it. Then he shook it off, forcing himself to focus on Noah.

      “You want God to wave a magic wand and make it all better?” When Noah nodded, Rick smiled. “That would be nice, but I think God wants us to learn from our mistakes.”

      Noah didn’t look convinced. “How do you kn-know for sure?”

      “Because God is a loving Father who wants the best for His kids.” Rick stifled a laugh at the look on Noah’s face. Clearly the kid had no love for members of the clergy.

      “My g-grandfather is a minister, t-too,” he said after a long silence.

      Rick waited for more information but Noah just added, “I wish m-my mom would w-wake up. I’m s-starving.”

      As if in answer, an anxious voice across the aisle, two rows back, called, “Noah?”

      Rick watched Noah’s shoulders tense. He waited for the boy to answer. When he didn’t, Rick said, “He’s here. With me.” He half rose to identify himself and immediately got caught in the worry-filled stare of the loveliest brown eyes he’d ever seen.

      A woman who looked too young to be the mother of this boy stood. She passed a hand over her jeans, straightened a sweater that accentuated the golden glints in her eyes then stepped into the aisle. Her blond hair caressed her cheeks in tumbled layers of tousled curls as she raked a hand through them.

      He knew that face.

      Rick scrambled to remember where he’d seen her before but came up blank. He was positive that he knew her, though Noah’s mother didn’t seem to know him. She barely glanced at him before she hunkered down beside her son.

      “You were supposed to tell me if you were going somewhere, Noah.”

      Rick immediately understood that the harshness he heard in her voice came from the fear still lingering in her eyes. A mental image of her—younger, without the worry, carefree and happy—flashed through his head.

      Where did that come from?

      “S-sorry, Mom,” Noah muttered. He didn’t sound sorry.

      “Noah didn’t want to wake you so he moved over here. We’ve been chatting to pass the time.” He thrust out a hand. “I’m Rick Salinger.”

      Instantly a barrier went up in her cocoa-toned eyes. After several moments’ hesitation she slid her small hand into his for about half a second then immediately pulled it away.

      “Cassie Crockett,” she said with her chin thrust forward. “I’m sorry Noah bothered you.”

      “He didn’t— Just the opposite, actually. Did you know your son is a cardshark?” Rick was certain he’d never met anyone named Cassie Crockett so he couldn’t possibly know her, and yet that face...

      Rick regrouped and grinned at Noah. “He beat me in six straight games of hearts.”

      “I’ve been there.” A smile flickered at the corner of her lips. “Humbling, isn’t it?”

      “Very,” Rick agreed, wanting to see what a real smile looked like on Cassie Crockett. “But I was glad to have someone to talk to. Seventeen hours from Thompson to Churchill makes for a long ride, even if this part of northern Canada is the best of God’s creation.” He paused then asked, “Have we met before?”

      “No.” Short and succinct, her answer flew out almost before he’d finished asking the question.

      “I don’t mean to push it, but you seem very familiar to me,” he said.

      “I assure you, I have never seen you before.” She held his gaze, dark brown sparks in her eyes defiant.

      “I’m h-hungry, Mom.” Noah looked at Rick, and seemed to sense an ally. “I b-bet Pastor Rick is hungry, t-too. We want b-breakfast.”

      “Pastor?” Cassie’s voice squeaked. Her heart-shaped face paled as her eyes narrowed.

      “H-he’s a minister in C-Churchill.” Noah seemed either unaware of or unconcerned about his mother’s reaction.

      “I am.” Rick sensed that a change of subject would be helpful. “They serve a passable breakfast on board, Mrs. Crockett.” He smiled again, hoping to allay whatever fears made her tense. “I could show you the way.”

      “That’s okay,” she said, her voice colder than before. “We’re not ready yet.”

      “I’m r-ready, Mom,” Noah contradicted.

      “We have to clean up first.” Cassie’s brow furrowed as she studied her son. “Your hair needs combing.”

      “Then c-can we have breakfast with P-pastor Rick?”

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