Carolyne Aarsen - A Heart's Refuge

Her exuberant welcome puzzled him. It was as if she knew him, but he doubted her information came from Becky. Not if her Day-Timer were any indication of what she thought of him.

The door beside them opened up and Becky rushed out, her coat flying out behind her, her hands clutching a folder identical to the one in Rick’s coat pocket. She saw her mother and veered toward her. “Hey, Mom, I have to step out a moment…” Becky’s voice trailed off as her eyes flicked from her mother to Rick. He didn’t think he imagined the flush in her cheeks.

“Hello, Becky,” he said, tilting a grin her way. “I believe you have something of mine.”

Becky looked down at the folder in her hands and her flush deepened. “Yes. Here.” She shoved it toward him without making eye contact. Rick slipped it into his pocket.

“You were expecting him, Becky?” Cora Ellison asked.

Becky nodded. “We, uh, accidentally switched Day-Timers.” She glanced up at Rick, her expression almost pleading. “Can I have mine back?”

“Oh. Sure.” Rick enjoyed seeing Becky a little flustered. It deepened the color of her eyes, gave her an appealing, vulnerable air. But he took pity on her and handed her the leather folder. “Safe and sound.” Luckily he wasn’t easily embarrassed or he might be flushing, too, knowing he’d read private things.

Becky took it from him and glanced down at it as if to make sure it hadn’t been violated. If she only knew.

“Thanks,” she said, and was about to turn away when her mother caught her by the arm.

“Becky. Wait a minute. You should have told me Rick was coming.” Cora turned to Rick. “Now I can ask you directly. We’d like to have you over for lunch. What about this Sunday? After church?”

Rick stifled a smile at Becky’s panicked gaze. He guessed she didn’t want him over, which made him want to accept the invitation. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”

“I’m looking forward to having you,” Cora said, folding her arms over her chest in a self-satisfied gesture. “It will be like the closing of a circle.”

Rick frowned at her comment. “What do you mean?”

“Your grandfather lived in Calgary years and years ago. When he was a teenager. Apparently he used to come courting my mother in those days.” Cora winked at Rick. “Bet he never told you.”

And a few more pieces of the puzzle that was his grandfather fell into place. “No. He never did. Is your mother still alive?”

“More than alive. Right, Becky?” Cora asked, drawing a reluctant Becky into the conversation.

“She’s a character, that’s for sure,” Becky said. She gestured toward the closed doors of the auditorium. “Sorry, but I gotta go,” she said vaguely, taking in both her mother and Rick. “Practice.”

“I’ll see you Sunday,” Rick couldn’t help but say.

She turned to him, her eyes finally meeting his, her lips drifting up in a crooked smile. “Church starts at ten-thirty. See you then.”

He felt a reluctant admiration for how neatly she had cornered him. Church was one of the last places he wanted to be on a Sunday morning, but he couldn’t let her get the upper hand. Not after what he’d read. “I’ll be here.”

She held his gaze, as if challenging him. But when she left, Rick felt a curious reluctance to hang around any longer.

“I should get going, too,” he said. “Gotta get ready for tomorrow.”

Cora’s light touch on his arm surprised him. “I’m looking forward to finding out more about your grandfather. I like a mystery.”

“Nothing mysterious about Colson Ethier,” Rick said. Except for a twisted desire to send his grandson on a trip down his own particular memory lane. He would be talking to Grandpa Colson as soon as he got a chance. “I’ll see you Sunday. Thanks again for the invitation.”

Becky tapped her fingers against her chin as she glanced around the foyer of the church once more. Rick better show up soon or she was leaving. When Cora Ellison told her she should be the one to make sure he’s welcome, Becky only agreed out of a sense of guilt.

She shouldn’t have snooped in his Day-Timer. Not that she found anything out. He had a year’s worth of dates written in his immaculate handwriting and none were of a personal nature. The only phone numbers were business related. His life looked empty, unappealing and sterile.

“Don’t do it, Becks.” Leanne, her sister, caught her hand as it edged toward her mouth. “Your nails are just starting to grow back.”

“And since when do you care about my nails, Leanne?” Becky said with a quick grin, slipping her sister’s arm through hers.

“Since I’m wondering if you’re ever going to get a boyfriend again.”

“A manicure isn’t going to do it and you know it.”

“Oh, please, not another ‘look not for the beauty nor whiteness of skin’ lecture. I get them enough from Mom.” Leanne squeezed her sister’s arm. “If you spent more time on your hair and makeup, you’d get a guy lickety split.”

“That’s a little simplistic. Besides, I have lots of guys.”

“But they’re all just friends,” her sister complained. “I can’t believe you don’t care about guys. I know Trevor didn’t break your heart that much.”

“He only dented it a little.”

“So why don’t you two go out again? I heard he’s back.”

“Trust me, he’ll be gone once the snow flies. I’m not going to date some guy who is just hanging around here, waiting for a chance to leave. This is my home and this is where I want to live.”

“If you found the right guy, I’m sure he’d be able to talk you into leaving.”

Becky tapped her little sister on the nose. “You see, that’s the problem. The right guy for me is one who doesn’t want to leave.”

Leanne pulled back, frowning. “I think I get it.”

“Let me know when you do.”

“So how long do we have to wait for this Rick guy?” Leanne said, brushing her long brown hair back from her face. “I promised Donita I’d sit with her.”

“Just a few more minutes.” Becky glanced at her watch, hoping Rick wouldn’t show. Now, or for lunch after church. But what she hoped even more was that he hadn’t read her Day-Timer. Like she’d read his.

“Okay, Becks. New guy alert.” Leanne tugged on her arm, her eyes riveted to the door. “Shaggy hockey hair. Nice mouth. Gorgeous eyes.” Leanne added a dramatic sigh. “He’s wearing a suit, but otherwise he’s movie-star adorable.”

Becky glanced toward the object of her sister’s gushing. And straightened as disappointment and a tingle of anticipation flitted through her. Rick’s suit gave him an authoritative air at odds with the haircut, or lack of it, that was currently labeled “hockey hair”—long enough to hang out the back of a hockey helmet. “He’s also my boss.”

Leanne’s mouth dropped. “That’s Rick Ethier?”

“Let’s go say hi and get that part over and done with.” Becky snagged her sister’s arm, and walked purposefully toward him.

Rick stood in the doorway, looking, she had to concede, a little lost in the wave of people drifting past him.

Someone caught her by the arm, halting her progress. Louise, a woman from one of the committees Becky was involved in. “Becky. Just wanted to know if you’ve had a chance to go over that banner idea Susan put together.”

“Not just yet. I’ll check it out this afternoon,” Becky said.

“I was thinking we could get your sister to help sew it.”

Becky nodded, keeping an eye on Rick.

“Sorry, Louise,” Leanne said, rescuing her. “We’ve got to catch someone before he leaves.”

And it looked like he was about to. He had his hand on the door when they caught up to him.