North Country Family

He lifted his head and found a pair of beautiful brown eyes watching him.

Staying focused on his goal definitely wasn’t going to be easy.

Chapter Three

“What’s wrong, Rick?” Lucy Clow demanded on Saturday morning.

The diminutive septuagenarian, retired missionary and acting church secretary laid a model airplane kit on his desk.

“What’s that?” he asked instead of answering.

“Vacation Bible School crafts for next summer, if you approve. I bought a ton of airplane kits online.” Wispy tendrils of Lucy’s snow-white hair straggled across her furrowed brow.

“Cool. Thanks for thinking ahead.” Rick loved this woman’s heart for God’s work. “You’ve been poking at your hair again,”

“Forget my hair.” The way Lucy clapped her hands on her hips made it clear he wouldn’t escape her question. “Tell me what’s eating you.”

“Noah Crockett.” Rick leaned back in his chair. “He’s closed himself off. I promised his mother I’d help him, but I’m not making much progress.”

“With his mother?” Lucy laughed at his expression and sat on a nearby chair. “There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to someone, Rick.”

“You know I can’t get involved that way with a woman, Lucy. I’ve told you about my vow to God.”

“I know what you promised God. I’m just not sure He asked for or even wanted your promise.” Lucy frowned at him. “You keep beating yourself up over the past when God’s already forgiven you. How is that any different from Noah acting out and staying aloof?”

“Noah hasn’t hurt hundreds of people with his greed. I have. I thought I was too smart to get caught in a Ponzi scheme. That guy took all the money I handed over and instead of investing it, he used it to pay off his old clients.” He groaned at his colossal ego. “Who else but an arrogant, materialistic creep would write a know-it-all book on how to beat the system and then lose his clients’ money as well as his own to a slick-talking salesman?”

“God forgave you, Rick,” Lucy murmured. “Forgive yourself.”

“I can’t.” He sipped his now-cold coffee. “Not when that stupid book keeps selling and there’s not a thing I can do to stop it.”

“I noticed the royalty check when I deposited the offering last week,” Lucy murmured. “I suppose that’s what brought your guilt rushing back.”

“It’s never left,” he muttered. “If only they’d stop selling that book.” His hands fisted at his helplessness. “I feel that there are still people who are losing everything because of me.”

“I guess you could always write another book against those practices.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head then raked his fingers through his hair. “The agreement I signed doesn’t allow me to contradict anything I wrote or reveal myself as the author.”

“It’s in God’s hands, Rick.” Lucy’s quiet voice brimmed with comfort. “Leave it there.”

“I’m trying. Anyway, it’s not me we’re talking about. It’s Noah.” He sighed. “Under that ‘Who cares’ attitude is a simmering cauldron of anger. I promised Cassie I’d help him, but he won’t confide in me. He keeps burying himself in his music.”

“I was practicing the piano for Sunday service while he was waiting for you yesterday,” Lucy said thoughtfully. “He sat in the back and pretended to ignore me, but I heard him hum along. A couple of times he even sang a line. The kid has a pretty good voice.”

Rick froze as an idea bloomed.

“You look funny.” Lucy reached into her pocket. “I’ve got some pills for indigestion—”

“Lucy!” Rick hooted with laughter. “You, my dear secretary, are a genius.”

“I tell Hector that all the time.” She frowned at him. “But why am I a genius today?”

“Music.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m going to start a kids’ choir, Lucy, and I’m going to ask Noah to join. Will you play for us?”

“Me?” Lucy wrinkled her nose. She held out her fingers, bent with the ravages of arthritis. “I can’t play that fast kids’ stuff very well, Rick, but I guess I could help until you find someone else.”

“Bless you.” Rick grabbed his coat and gloves. “I’m going out to Lives to ask Laurel and Cassie if the boys can join. Then we’ll put out the word all over town.” He pulled open the door of his office then turned back and hugged the tiny woman. “You’re a peach, Luce.”

He was almost out the door when Lucy muttered, “I’d rather be a genius.”

“You’re both,” he called.

As he gunned his snowmobile and headed out of town toward Lives, his heart raced with excitement. As he went, he prayed, Let this choir be a blessing, Lord. Let Your word through music touch the kids’ hearts and souls with healing. Especially Noah’s. And Cassie’s, too.

Invigorated, he began formulating a list of songs that might help Noah face his anger. Once at Lives, Rick jumped off his machine and rapped on the door. When no one answered immediately he rapped harder. Finally the door opened a crack, revealing Cassie’s tousled head and bleary-eyed face.

It wasn’t lost on him that his heart beat a bit faster at the sight of her. But he ignored that fact as best he could.

“Hi.” Rick blinked, checked his watch and winced. “I’m guessing you weren’t up yet?”

“It’s Saturday, Rick. Barely past nine. And it’s New Year’s Eve. We’re all sleeping in.” She smothered a yawn and opened the door wide. “But I’m up now. Come in.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think of the time,” he apologized, his brain busy admiring the robe she wore. Delicately crocheted, it began in pale aqua at the bottom and grew progressively darker, drawing the eye up to where it turned a rich emerald tone in the lacy collar framing her face. “You look lovely.”

“Nice of you to say, Rick, but I had my first shift at the hospital and worked till four this morning. I don’t think ‘lovely’ applies.” Cassie turned to get the coffee container out of the fridge.

“I do.” He saw her pause a moment before she continued setting the perc. She flicked a switch and a moment later the rich fragrant aroma filled the room. “I’m really sorry I woke you.”

“It must be important.” She perched on a stool in the corner. “Do you want me to get Laurel?”

“Not yet. Though I do want to get her permission, and yours,” he added.

“For what?” she asked around another yawn.

“For Noah and the boys to join a choir, a kids’ choir,” he emphasized.

Cassie tilted her head to one side. “Noah used to sing in a choir at home—” She stopped. “If he’s interested I’m all for it.”

“Hi, Rick.” Laurel leaned against the door frame, glancing from him to Cassie. “All for what?”

“My kids’ choir,” he told her, noticing how tired she looked. “I wanted to ask your permission for the Lives boys to join, but we can talk later.”

“Good because at the moment my brain is mush. I stayed up too late working on my taxes. Teddy Stonechild has me convinced I’m doing something wrong.” She blinked sleepily. “If you’ll excuse me I’m going to return to my dream life on a tropical beach. Good night—I mean morning.” She waved a hand and left.

“Teddy was here?” Rick asked as Cassie poured coffee for both of them.

“Last night. Cream?” She held up the jug.