North Country Family

“It was n-nice m-meeting you, too,” Noah responded. “T-thanks for telling m-me about Churchill. If we g-go to a r-restaurant, I’m g-going to order c-c-caribou.”

“Good. But if anyone offers you muktuk, make sure it’s fresh.” Rick hid his smile and waited for the inevitable question.

“Wh-why?”

“Whale skin and blubber are best eaten fresh.” Rick chuckled at Noah’s dismayed look. “It’s actually not bad when you get used to it.” Then he nodded at Cassie. “Excuse me.”

Apparently Cassie hadn’t realized she was blocking his way. Her cheeks flamed bright pink as she stepped out of the way and beckoned to Noah to follow.

Rick tried not to hear their discussion as he waited for another passenger to move out of the aisle, but it was difficult not to eavesdrop.

“Why d-didn’t we go with Pastor R-rick, Mom? I’m s-starving.” Noah’s stutter seemed to worsen with his temper. “I w-want to g-go n-now.”

“Noah, behave.” Cassie sounded irritated. “We’ll go for breakfast soon, but not if you’re going to make a fuss. That is not how a Crockett behaves,” she said softly, almost too softly for Rick to hear.

“Mrs. P-Perkins said all C-crocketts behave b-badly,” Noah muttered in a sullen tone.

“Mrs. Perkins was wrong.” Cassie sounded desperate to shush her son.

“Th-that’s what she said about y-you,” Noah retorted. “Sh-she said you m-made the b-b-biggest mistake of your l-life.”

Able to finally move forward to the dining car, Rick couldn’t hear Cassie’s response. Noah’s words had raised a thousand questions in his mind—but first and foremost was this: Why, when she’d learned his profession, had she shrunk away from him as if he had the plague?

That question was quickly followed by another: Why did her offended look bother him so much?

In the dining car, Ned Blenkins stood waiting to take his order.

“Nice to see you again, Preacher. Same as usual?” Ned asked with his cheery smile.

“Yes, please.” Rick accepted a cup of coffee.

“Won’t take a minute,” Ned promised.

Rick carried his steaming cup to the only empty table. Though most of the other passengers had finished their meals and now lingered over coffee, no one invited him to join them. He took a seat, reminding himself that eating alone didn’t bother him. He deserved a lot worse than a solitary breakfast, he thought with a pang of fresh guilt.

Rick had seen most of the other people in the dining car around Churchill, though not in his church. He knew each member of his small congregation personally, and he suspected they all knew about his ugly past. In a small town like Churchill there were few secrets.

He’d been very honest in telling the hiring committee how he’d lost every dime of his own and that of every client who’d trusted him. He’d also told them how he’d found God, and of his vow to serve Him in an effort to rectify the wrongs he’d done. Though none of his parishioners had ever confronted him about it, Rick figured it was the reason why he hadn’t attracted any new parishioners. Who wanted to attend the church of a man who’d caused such harm?

As he waited for his breakfast, Rick glanced at the paper his neighbor was reading. His heart took a nosedive when he saw the headline of a small piece in the bottom right corner—“Local couple loses bid to sue publisher for risky book on investing.”

“Not again,” his soul cried.

He grabbed the paper off his own table and read the entire section. The leaden weight in his stomach grew as he read about a young couple desperate to have children. They needed money for fertility procedures. Now they were homeless because they’d mortgaged their house and sold everything they owned to invest their money after they’d read a book called Untold Riches in the Stock Market. Rick had written the book under the same pseudonym the publisher had used for six other how-to books in the same series. It was doubtful his authorship would ever be made public because Rick had signed a confidentiality agreement. But that didn’t ease any of his guilt.

Almost five years later and there were still ramifications. Worse, he was powerless to stop it.

He read that the court ruled that though the book offered risky—perhaps even foolhardy—advice, the advice was not illegal and the lawsuit had been dismissed.

Oh Lord, he prayed silently. How can I ever atone for all the pain my greed has caused?

Overwhelmed by guilt, Rick had promised God that last day at the seminary that he’d give up his most precious dream—he’d clung to it all through the years he’d scrabbled to stay alive on the streets of Toronto—the dream of having a home and a family. Those two things were all he’d ever wanted—a place to call his own, and people who loved and cared for him.

It had cost Rick dearly to sacrifice that dream, but every time he learned of someone else who’d suffered because of him, he renewed his vow. It was his way of showing God he was worthy of His love.

But was he?

Defeat nagged at Rick as he thought about the eight months he’d been ministering in Churchill. By most measures, the lack of new members in his church probably meant he was a failure as a minister. But he’d promised God he’d serve where he was placed and for now, that place was Churchill. All he could do was his best until God sent him somewhere else.

“Eggs over easy with bacon.” Ned set the loaded plate in front of him.

“Thanks, Ned.” Rick palmed him a generous tip.

He’d barely lifted his head from saying grace when the door burst open and Noah stalked in, followed by Cassie. She quickly realized there was no empty table and frowned. Her brown eyes narrowed as she endured curious stares.

“Come and join me,” Rick invited, rising. Noah didn’t even glance at his mother for permission before he strode over. Cassie followed more slowly.

“We don’t want to bother you,” she said.

“You’re not,” he assured her. “You’re welcome here.”

Cassie hesitated.

“Come on, Mom. I’m s-starving.”

Cassie ignored Noah, her gaze locked on Rick. She studied him for what seemed like ages before she inclined her head in an almost imperceptible nod.

“Thank you. We’d like to join you.” She laid a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “On a scale of one to ten, how hungry are you?”

“F-fourteen.” Noah slouched on the chair beside Rick as Cassie turned to place their order. His eyes widened at the sight of Rick’s plate. “F-four eggs?”

“I guess I’m an eighteen on your scale.” Rick laughed at Noah’s surprise but his gaze was already back on Cassie as she made her way toward Ned. He could still smell her fragrance. Whatever it was, it suited her. Soft, very feminine with a hint of spice. Feisty.

You’re thinking about this woman entirely too much. Do not get involved.

“W-won’t you get f-fat?” the boy asked, his forehead pleated in a frown.

“I hope not.” Rick hid his smile. After reading that article he was no longer hungry. He offered Noah the plate with the extra toast he’d ordered. Noah selected one half slice.

“Mrs. P-Perkins said my m-mom is f-fat,” he muttered.

“No offense, but I think Mrs. Perkins, whoever she is, must need glasses.” Rick smiled. “Your mom is beautiful,” he added.

“I g-guess s-so.” Silence reigned as Noah devoured his toast.

Cassie returned a few moments later with two glasses of juice and a cup of coffee. She raised one eyebrow at Noah when he reached for a second slice of Rick’s toast but said nothing as she set the juice in front of him.

“Th-that’s it?” Noah demanded. He looked at Rick sadly. “M-maybe I’m f-fat.”