A Fresh Start

After a night of mistakes and misunderstandings, Ryan Marsh thinks he’s back on the road to redemption. All he needs to do is convince the court-appointed counselor that he’s just fine. But when counseling intern Kellie Cavanaugh sees the stark pain in Ryan’s eyes, she knows that without her help he’s headed for disaster. Soon it’s Kellie who’s in trouble. She can’t get personally involved, no matter how drawn to Ryan she might be. When they end up volunteering for the same community project, Kellie can’t deny her growing feelings. Will she land exactly where she shouldn’t…in love?

What was it about Ryan that dug so deep under Kellie’s skin?

As they drove in silence, Kellie studied him. Ryan Marsh had a classic hero complex. No wonder he took his fiancée’s accident so hard. A guy like him would torture himself over not preventing it from happening. Overprotective? You better believe it. Overbearing? Yes, ma’am. And way too easy to look at. “You can let me out here,” she said as he turned down her drive. He kept going. “Did you hear me?” she asked. “Yeah, but I’d just as soon see you get in the door safe and sound.” Yep, ridiculously overprotective. Again, the image of him as a gallant knight ready to slay a lurking dragon flitted through her mind. Ryan reminded her of what she’d always dreamed of—a prince who’d rescue her from the darkness. She quickly shook away those girlish thoughts. She’d learned that fairy tales didn’t come true and had the scars to remind her of that.

JENNA MINDEL

lives in northwest Michigan with her husband and their two dogs. She enjoys a career in banking that has spanned twenty-five years and several positions, but writing is her passion. A 2006 Romance Writers of America RITA® Award finalist, Jenna has answered her heart’s call to write inspirational romances set near the Great Lakes.

Season of Redemption

Jenna Mindel

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all who mourn in Israel, He will give: beauty for ashes; joy instead of mourning; praise instead of heaviness. For God has planted them like strong and graceful oaks for His own glory.

—Isaiah 61:3

I’d like to thank everyone who gave me such

rich insight into the world of counseling, social work and substance abuse treatment. To Kelly Kippe,

Becky Ledingham, Jeffrey Seltzer, Megan Grodesky and Steve Mindel—thank you for your time and generous wisdom. To Officer Jason Traeger, thank you for answering my many questions about possible

arrest situations without thinking I’m a kook!

I really appreciate the great resources you guys

have been for me. I hope this story rings true,

and if it doesn’t, I take full responsibility.

To my critique partners, Kathleen Irene Paterka and Christine Johnson, thank you for keeping my characters honest. You helped bring more depth to them and for that I’m so grateful.

To my new editor, Shana Smith, who is a delight,

we’re going to make a great team!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Kellie Cavanaugh rushed into the office bringing with her a blast of chilly autumn air and a few colored leaves that had blown against the door. She was late. Not a good thing considering she interned for LightHouse Center, a substance abuse outpatient office in LeNaro, Michigan. She wanted a good report despite her tardiness.

Grabbing a quick cup of coffee, she took a sip and coughed. “Ugh, who made this?”

Marci, the receptionist, laughed. “John.”

“What’s wrong with my coffee?” Her boss, John Thompson, stood with hands on his hips.

Kellie made a face. “It’s like tar.”

“Get here on time and you can make the coffee.” His voice sounded stern, but Kellie knew better. John was all bark.

Still, she managed a sheepish smile. “Sorry I’m late. I overslept.”

John nodded. “How’d your interview go yesterday?”

Kellie had left early to interview with the large school district in Traverse City. One of their school counselors had tendered her two weeks’ and needed to be replaced. The school was currently interviewing. John knew the school’s superintendent and had pushed to get her in the door. She owed him big-time.

“Promising. Very promising.” Kellie added more cream and sugar to the super strong coffee.

Again, John nodded. “Ginny’s not here today, so I’d like you to take this morning’s assessment. It’s a court order and the guy’s waiting in the lobby.”

Kellie peeked at the tall, dark and handsome man pacing the tiles. “You want me to take him?”

“Yes, I do. We’re all part of a team. When one of us is missing, others fill in. Besides, you’ve done well with our teens. I think you’re ready.”

She was ready. With only a month left of her internship, Kellie had been doing teen assessments on her own. She’d even facilitated the teen group sessions for the last few weeks. Kellie had shadowed her mentor, Ginny, for months. She knew how to conduct an adult assessment. She’d seen it done by the best.

Still, Kellie didn’t appreciate the way her heart pounded. Was it normal nerves or something else? She peeked again at the guy in the lobby and a flutter of attraction rippled through her.

Nope, not going there.

The guy moved with impatient grace, like some fairy-tale prince who’d lost his way to the castle, but he was no storybook hero charging in to give Kellie a happily-ever-after. Kellie didn’t believe in fairy tales anymore. She believed in hard work and faith in God to get a person where they wanted to go.

“Here’s the alcohol screening questionnaire he completed. Looks pretty clean.” John handed her Prince Impatient’s paperwork. “It’s his first offense.”

“You mean the first time he’s been caught.” Kellie scanned the documents for his name. Ryan Marsh.

John gave her a tsk-tsk of warning. “Careful, Kellie, you haven’t been here long enough to be that cynical.”

Kellie shrugged. Her cynicism had been cultivated long ago. She flipped through Ryan’s papers. He’d been court-ordered for a substance abuse assessment as part of his conditional sentence for Operating While Visibly Impaired. A misdemeanor. It didn’t matter that he’d been hit with the lowest charge; the guy had been arrested for an alcohol-related crime. In her book, that made him a modern-day leper—treat with compassion but do not touch.

“Okay.” The lobby seemed to shrink before her eyes. She could do this. She knew how to control her reactions and her feelings. She’d done it for years.

Kellie glanced at Marci, sitting primly behind a sliding glass window that gave her an eyeful of Prince Impatient’s delectable pacing. “Give me a minute and then send him back.”

“Sure thing, Kellie.” Marci snapped her gum and gave her a wink.

Kellie took a steadying breath, picked up her doctored coffee and headed for her office. It was one thing meeting with kids, quite another to assess someone so handsome it hurt to look at him.

After five minutes of mental prep, she looked up to see her Prince Impatient literally darken her doorstep. If a person could look like a thundercloud personified, it was definitely Ryan Marsh.

“Come in, Ryan, please. I’m Kellie Cavanaugh, an intern here.” She extended her hand hoping he didn’t notice the way her voice had cracked.

He briefly returned her handshake.

Kellie didn’t cower at his strength or the fact that he towered over her. “Have a seat.”

He sat down, his knees brushing the front of her desk. So far, he hadn’t said a word, but she could feel his frustration and something darker emanating from him like a low growl. Shame? This bear of a man had been caught in his own snare.

“So, tell me why you’re here.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he wiped his palms against long, jean-clad thighs as if it took considerable effort to remain seated. His impatience hadn’t cooled as he gestured toward the paperwork on her desk. “You’ve got the court order.”

“Yes, I do. But I’d like to hear your story.”

“It’s so stupid.” His deep voice sounded remorseful rather than defensive.

Most stories she’d heard here were, but Kellie didn’t say that. She nodded for him to continue.

“How long will this take? I’ve got to get to work.”

Ryan had a job that he was worried about keeping. Definitely a good sign. Same with his questionnaire. He’d given a lot of right answers, but that didn’t mean they were true.

“About an hour or so. I have a series of questions to ask, so you might as well get comfortable.”

He nodded but didn’t relax.

“You were about to tell me what happened,” Kellie coaxed.

“I was at a party and had a few beers too many—” His gaze pierced her. “Something I don’t usually do. Anyway, a friend agreed to drive me home. While I was waiting for him in my truck, I must have dozed off. The police were called because of the noise, and the next thing I knew I was arrested.”

Kellie studied him. Hard. Something didn’t add up. He didn’t usually have a few too many beers? Right. A person didn’t get arrested without cause. “What happened to your friend?”

“He bailed on me.”

Classic.

She sat back. “Do you hang out with this friend a lot?”

Ryan shook his head. “No. We went to high school together. I ran into him at a football game, and he invited me to the party and I went. He hadn’t been drinking and agreed to drive me home.”

“In your truck?” Kellie had heard all kinds of lame excuses sitting in on assessments. This one was right up there.

He ran his hand through thick dark hair that had a nice wave to it. “Yeah. I know. Stupid.”

“So the police arrested you because...?” She wanted his perspective on why he’d gotten into trouble.

“It was cold that night, so I started the truck to turn on the heat. I was sitting in the passenger seat, but it didn’t matter. The cops said I had control of the vehicle with the intent to drive.”

“And did they talk to your friend?”

“No. They couldn’t find him. He left with someone else and that’s all it took to make me out as a liar.”

Was he? A twisting worm of doubt in her gut said he wasn’t. Maybe he’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time under the wrong circumstances. “This is how you remember it happening?”

He looked her straight in the eye. “That’s how it happened. I had no intention of driving. I don’t drink and drive.”

Kellie shifted under that direct gaze, but she didn’t look away. His eyes were dark brown and hard like bitter chocolate. That worm of doubt turned again. Liars weren’t usually so forthright.

She cocked her head. “Okay, tell me about yourself. Who are you, Ryan?”

The corner of his eye twitched. “What do you want to know?”

He did things the hard way. Okay, fine. “I have an entire sheet of questions here, which we’ll take in order. The more open you are, the easier this will be.”

“I don’t have a drinking problem,” he said.

He wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t something amiss in his life. “A problem is a broken shoelace, something you fix and it goes away. We treat the disease of alcoholism and addiction. That requires management skills.”

This time he shifted in his seat, looking wary. Nervous even. “Okay, what’s your first question?”

“Your general health appears good. Are you currently taking any prescription meds?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been prescribed medications for pain?”

“Yes.”

Kellie narrowed her gaze. “When and what were they?”

“I had my wisdom teeth pulled a month ago—they were impacted pretty bad. I still have the bottle of Percocet.”

“Did you take them?”

“I took one.”

“Why only one?”

Ryan shrugged. “I didn’t like how it made me feel.”

“And how did it make you feel?”

“Sort of loopy.” He sat forward with an annoyed look on his face and his dark brows furrowed. The thundercloud was back. “Look, Ms. Cavanaugh. I don’t do drugs. I never have. And I don’t normally drink much.”

How many times had she heard her brother deny his addiction? How many times had her parents believed him? They refused to see what his substance abuse did to their family.

What it did to her.

She cleared the painful memories inching into her brain. Ryan Marsh was convincing. He believed he was okay, and part of her wanted to believe that, too. He wasn’t like her brother. For one thing, Ryan looked a person in the eye.

“Except for that party?”

He sat back and blew out his breath in frustration. “Yeah, except for that party.”

She’d hit a nerve but had to dig deeper. “Why?”

Now he looked angry. “What do you mean, why?”

“Why did you have a few beers too many?”

He looked away then and shrugged. Now he was lying. By refusing to admit his reason, he wasn’t being true to himself or to her. Ryan Marsh had a definite purpose in drinking that night, she was certain. He didn’t strike her as the kind of guy to do anything by accident.

She waited, feeling the struggle going on inside him. “Ryan?”

He looked up.

In his eyes she read stark pain so acute, her heart flinched. It felt like she’d run into a jagged piece of glass that cut quick and deep. “Alcohol won’t make it go away.”

“It did for a while.”

Her stomach tipped over and fell, feeling like it had dropped to the soles of her feet. Ryan Marsh hurt, and he hurt badly. People hurting that bad often tried to medicate their sorrow to make it go away instead of dealing with it. Is that what he was doing? Was this the first stepping stone to a bigger issue?

Please, God, no...

The prayer whispered from her soul. She often prayed for clients, especially the teens in her group. She cared, but this was different. This bordered on something else. A connection between them where she felt his pain and wanted to take it away. But she couldn’t do that. Things didn’t work that way.

Straightening her paperwork, Kellie regrouped. This man wasn’t her client nor would he be. She was only filling in for Ginny. Ryan Marsh would become an agency client if recommended for counseling. She needed to remain impartial, objective and, above all else, emotionally removed.

But those eyes of his were killers, sucking her into a vortex of feelings she shouldn’t have. Settling the list of standard questions on the desk in front of her like a shield, she continued her line of questioning and note-taking.

His employment, his education, his family life—everything checked out. He was a regular guy with a normal life. From what he’d told her, a very stable life. Ryan was the middle child of three. He grew up on his family-owned cherry orchard, but he worked as a farm manager for a nearby horticultural research station. He’d worked there since graduating from college five years ago. The guy had no prior arrests, not even one speeding ticket according to the court records.

Yet, he was here.

She looked at him. “So, you’ve never been in trouble with the police before.”

He fidgeted in the chair and his boot hit the front of her desk when he tried to cross his legs. “Sorry.”

Again she’d hit a nerve. Had he been in trouble before? She smiled and waited for him to answer.

“I’m sorry, what was the question?”

She rephrased. “Have you ever been in trouble with the police before? Maybe not arrested, but warned? Or questioned?

The color drained from his face. “Questioned.”

“Why?” She held her breath.

“My fiancée was killed in a tractor rollover. My brother and I were there when it happened.” A brief glimpse of that tragedy shone from his eyes, but then he shuttered it off as easily as she might pull the shades on a window.

“When was this?”

“A little over three years ago.” He looked down at his feet. With his elbows balanced on his knees, Ryan clasped his hands so tight his knuckles had turned white.

She watched him closely. It was eating him up inside. Was he an alcoholic without knowing it or headed there because of his grief? It wasn’t uncommon for someone who’d never showed signs of substance abuse to slide down that slippery slope as a way to cope.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He struggled for control.

Part of her wanted to dig deeper, get him to talk about what had happened that day, but she stopped herself from asking the question poised on her lips. She wasn’t his counselor.

Kellie quickly gathered her papers and stood. “I think I have everything I need for now. You signed a permission waiver for us to check with your family, so I’ll complete those interviews later today.”

He stood as well. “Why do you have to talk to them? I told you everything you asked.”

Kellie wouldn’t sugarcoat the reason. “We need to establish your credibility.”

He jammed his hands in his pockets. “Okay, fine. Then what?”

“Then I’ll review what we discussed along with the questionnaire you completed and make my recommendation to my boss and mentor counselor. Once they’ve reviewed the paperwork, we’ll forward their findings to the court. You’ll get copies of everything.”

Ryan looked worried. “When will I hear something?”

“By the end of the week.” She extended her hand. “I know this isn’t easy on you, but we’re on the same team.”

Ryan took it and squeezed.

For a moment, Kellie didn’t think he’d let go. His touch wasn’t threatening at all. In fact, all the bluster had gone out of him and he hung on like she was a rescue ring tossed in rough waters.

When he finally did let go of her hand, Kellie was tempted to reach for him again. And that was plain old crazy thinking. And dangerous.

He headed for the door and then stopped, turned around and gave her a hint of a smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Kellie’s heart pounded all over again.

* * *

Ryan stepped out of the treatment center into cold October sunshine peeking out from behind dark gray clouds. He felt a lot like the dried-up leaves getting swirled into a circle in the parking lot. His whole life had been stirred into a mess of decayed matter.

What had he gotten himself into? One stupid decision had cost him way more than the money spent on court fees, increased insurance and an invasive assessment. Despite the promise of dropped charges once he satisfied the conditions of his sentence, namely an evaluation and possible treatment, this thing had the power to impact the rest of his life.

Clicking the unlock button on his keys, Ryan climbed in his truck, but he didn’t start the engine right away. He stared at the trees on the surrounding hills that blazed in bright hues of orange and red. He’d made two stupid decisions. The first had been letting Sara try that asinine stunt with the tractor.

If only he’d told her no...

He leaned his head back and sighed. “I am such an idiot.”

The night of the party would have been their third wedding anniversary had Sara lived. They would have been married three years, maybe with a baby on the way. Ryan briefly closed his eyes. The pain hadn’t gone away. The hollow feeling he carried around had grown like a cancerous tumor.

He’d tried to recover through church, then isolation, and then that night, he’d tried something else. The party had given him an excuse to go further than a few beers to relax. He’d effectively blurred his memories until he couldn’t recall them anymore. He’d drunk enough to blot out that look on Sara’s face when she lay in his arms, dying.

It had been a real treat for his family to find out he’d been arrested. His one call had been to his future brother-in-law instead of his parents. Adam had picked him up from jail without lecture, but it was still a humbling experience he’d never want to repeat. Not something he’d wanted to place on his parents, either. Knowing his mom, she might have left him in jail overnight to think about what he’d done to get there.

That pretty intern reminded him a little of his mom. Kellie Cavanaugh wasn’t exactly short, maybe more average in height, but she looked small and delicate despite her powerhouse of a handshake. With light freckles all over her face and eyes that couldn’t decide whether to be blue or green, she’d nailed him with a direct gaze that saw far more than he’d wanted her to see. A good talent when it came to counseling, but potentially bad news for him.

He wasn’t a drunk. But would Kellie Cavanaugh see that? He wanted this whole thing done and over with, but his future lay in her hands. He started his truck and slammed it into Reverse.

By the time he got to work, Ryan was glad his duties today included fall cleanup in the cherry fields. Throwing stuff around sounded good right about now.

“How’d it go?” His boss, Liz, stood in the doorway of his small office.

“I don’t know. I’ll find out if I have to go to ‘treatment’—” Ryan made quotation marks with his fingers “—by the end of the week.”

Liz gave him a smile. Only a few years older than his twenty-seven years, Liz was hired in as the new director of the research center six months ago when she moved back to the area with her husband.

She’d been great through this whole thing, promising to go to bat for him if record of his arrest printed in their local newspaper was ever questioned by the board of directors.

“Have you thought maybe this is what you need?”

“I don’t abuse any substance—” He cut himself short. Was that true anymore?

Liz held up her hand. “You’re the most dependable, hardworking guy on staff, but there’s this sadness in you.... I know it’s about your fiancée, but maybe this is all for some big cosmic reason.”

Ryan snorted. “You sound like my brother.”

“Well, maybe we have a point.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve got stuff to do. Thanks, Liz.” Ryan wasn’t interested in a theological debate. If he heard one more time from well-meaning folks how all things work together for good to those who love God, he’d tear his hair out.

How could God use this one? Ryan had blocked out God for a while now. Maybe He’d finally received the message and had given Ryan a hands-off. And look where he’d landed.

* * *

Two days later while waiting for her evening teen group session, Kellie sat at her desk with her office phone cradled against her shoulder. “Mrs. Marsh? Hello, this is Kellie Cavanaugh from the LightHouse Center in LeNaro. Do you have a few moments?”

She heard a sigh at the other end.

“Yes, I do. Ryan told me you might be calling.” Ryan’s mother had a pleasant-sounding voice.

Expecting the call was another good sign. Ryan Marsh demonstrated responsibility by giving his family members a heads-up. Or he could have prepped them on what to say. Either way, Kellie would find out.

She’d hit a wall with his evaluation. She believed what Ryan had told her even though her boss thought his answers were too perfect to be true.

Was Ryan headed for trouble? If he remained on this course, most likely he would be. She’d spoken to Ryan’s brother, a minister, who had shed a lot of light on the accident that had killed Ryan’s fiancée. Her name was Sara, and she’d died in Ryan’s arms. Kellie nearly cried after she’d hung up.

“Mrs. Marsh, I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions about your son.”

The chuckle on the other end of the phone surprised her. “Mrs. Marsh?”

“Oh, please call me Rose. And sorry, but this is just so unusual.”

Kellie tipped her head. “How so?”

“It’s not like Ryan to do anything wrong. When the boys were younger, I used to get all kinds of calls about my oldest son, Sinclair. But he’s settled down and recently married. Ryan was always the responsible one.”

Rose Marsh sounded vibrant and proud of both her sons. There wasn’t that weary tone in her voice, like she’d been through the wringer over and over again. Interesting.

“Does Ryan have a history of abusing alcohol?”

“No, not really. In fact, Ryan was the type of kid who’d call me fifteen minutes before his curfew with the reason why he might be late. I never worried about Ryan in that respect.”

“Rose, if I may ask, is there anything that worries you now?”

“His grief.” Another sigh. “He’s not moving on, and it’s been three years.”

“Yes, he told me about that. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Miss Cavanaugh.”

“Kellie.”

“Can you help him, Kellie?”

She felt her back stiffen. “I’m not his counselor. I’m helping with the evaluation.”

“He’d have a fit if he knew I’d said this, but I want him to go through some sort of counseling. Ryan’s too deep a thinker. He keeps his feelings locked up inside and wouldn’t dream of seeking help on his own. And he needs help.”

Still waters run deep with dangerous currents and undertows.

“Kellie?”

“Yes, ma’am?

“Do you believe in God?”

A personal question for sure, but Kellie wasn’t surprised or offended. Ryan’s brother was a pastor, and he’d told her that they’d been raised in a Christian home. The Marsh family had been more than simply Sunday morning churchgoers. They tried their best to live their faith. Like her.

Kellie cleared her throat. This call was taking an unexpected turn. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

“There’s an old poem that refers to God as the Hound of Heaven. Well, I think God’s tracking down my son to bring him back. Please recommend Ryan to go through counseling. He can’t carry his burden of grief anymore. He needs to finally give it over to the Lord, before he lets it destroy him. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do, Mrs. Marsh.” A little too well, in fact. Some things were hard to let go of.

After a few more questions, Kellie hung up the phone. God worked in mysterious ways, but this one really confused her. Was she supposed to be God’s instrument in this man’s life? That was a big responsibility. One she didn’t take lightly. A knock on the door to her tiny office interrupted her thoughts, so she hit the save button on her computer.

Ginny stuck her head around the door. “Do you have that Marsh evaluation done yet? John’s asking for it. He’s got a relatively new group starting up and can take on another client.”

“It’s right here.” Kellie hit the print button and then pointed at the shelf. “Or rather, there.”

“Great. Let’s review it before our teen group session, okay?” Ginny gathered up the pages and scanned them quickly. “Heard anything from the school yet?”

“Not yet. I don’t expect to for a while.” Kellie sat on her hands to keep them still while Ginny settled into a chair. She gave her time to read the report thoroughly.

“So, you believe this guy’s telling the truth?” Ginny’s gaze narrowed.

“I do.”

Ginny smiled. “You’re so young.”

Kellie knew that was her mentor’s way of saying naïve. One of the things Kellie had learned interning here was that the counselors were pretty skeptical. They had to be.

“And yet you’re recommending a minimum amount of counseling. Why?”

Kellie wouldn’t admit that Ryan’s mother had asked her to, or that she’d confirmed Kellie’s thought process. “I think he might be headed for real trouble if he doesn’t deal with his emotional pain.”

Ginny rolled her pen between her fingers. “Might being the operative word here. Do you think he’s an alcoholic?”

“Most of the signs point to no.” But Kellie had her doubts.

The way he’d admitted to a reprieve that night at the party, the night he’d been arrested, raised a red flag. Ryan Marsh had found a destructive way to cope.

Kellie knew all about that.

Ginny gave her a hard stare of consideration. “Okay. I’m approving it. John will be happy for a solid self-pay, and maybe we can prevent this guy from going down the wrong road.”

“Exactly.” Kellie nodded, but she felt like she’d betrayed Ryan.

A guy like him wasn’t going to be happy with the news. Nope. Not one bit.

Chapter Two

How’d he get here? Really, how had this happened? Ryan took a seat in one chair of many that made a circle. The group session room at LightHouse Center looked sterile and cold despite the inspirational posters on the walls and potted plants on the windowsills.

Some of his fellow group members were a little rough around the edges. The young woman to his left might as well be a walking billboard for the tattoo shop in town. Another guy had a beard that shouted Willie Nelson impersonator. Seriously, they looked like they belonged here. He didn’t. And he had weeks of this to look forward to?

Clenching his jaw, Ryan glanced around. Where was that pretty intern? He wanted to tell her she’d made a big mistake. He’d read that report, and yeah, there was some scary truth to what she’d written, but that didn’t mean he needed this. He definitely didn’t want it..

He watched more people roll in and take their seats. Normal-looking people, professionals even. So far, thankfully no one he knew.

“I think we should get started.” John Thompson, the guy he’d met with briefly after hearing the verdict of his assessment, also sat down in the circle.

“We’ve got several new people,” John announced. “I’d like to go around the room and have everyone introduce themselves and state why you’re here. First names only. Everything said here stays here. Confidentiality and anonymity are crucial to the safety of the herd.”

Ryan would give anything to wring that intern’s neck. What color would her eyes turn then? The thought made him smile. And then he heard the silence and realized the group was waiting for him.

He slid back in his chair and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I’m Ryan and I don’t get why I’m here.”

The woman with the tattoos gave him a sarcastic once-over, like he was the loser. A couple of folks snickered.

“Okay, Ryan. Eventually, you will.” John didn’t like his answer. No surprise there.

John hadn’t liked any of his answers when they’d met to map out his master treatment plan. Ryan’s goal was getting this over with as soon as possible and meeting the condition of his sentence so the charges would be dropped. Period. He didn’t have a problem. Not a drinking problem anyway.

Then the guy slouching next to him answered, “Yeah. My name’s Pete, and what he said is good enough for me, too.”

“Honesty, folks.” John peered over his glasses at them before giving Ryan a pointed look. He had a short stack of papers attached to a clipboard, resting on his knee. “We’ll get nowhere fast with minimized answers.”

And so it went. Ryan steeled himself for the psychobabble that promised to fill his next hour and a half. By the time the group session was over, Ryan didn’t linger. He didn’t want to meet anyone. He didn’t want to chat over coffee. He wanted out of there.

Climbing into his truck, he started the engine and pulled out. He cringed at the squealing sound from his tires but kept driving—too fast. He had to get far away from all that. As far as he could go.

Okay, slow down and breathe. Just breathe.

A couple of miles out of town, he finally relaxed. He’d survived his first session. He could do this. He clicked the power button of the radio and fiddled with his preset tabs until he found a country station. The current song’s poor-me wails had him changing the channel to a contemporary Christian station. He tapped his fingers on the wheel as he listened to the soothing sounds of a rock-styled worship song.

How many times had he sung this song in church without a thought to the words? He felt a tugging at his heart but clicked off the radio.

Why, Lord? Why is this happening?

Ryan didn’t expect an answer. He didn’t get one either. He wasn’t exactly on solid speaking terms with the Almighty. Sure, sometimes Ryan talked—ranted usually—but rarely did he hear.

Maybe he didn’t listen hard enough, but empty silence had a way of shutting down a person’s prayers. Pain that wouldn’t go away did that, too. Yeah, his prayers had definitely dwindled in the last couple of years.

With a sigh, he kept driving until he spotted a small car with its hazard lights flashing. A woman sat on the hood with what looked like a cell phone in her hand.

“Stupid,” he muttered.

Why would a woman sit outside her vehicle on a lonely stretch of road when it was starting to get dark? All right, dusk hadn’t settled yet, but it was a dark and gloomy day. He couldn’t leave her all alone, so he slowed down and pulled over.

He got out of his truck and walked toward her with his hands open in an easy manner he hoped sent the message that he was okay. He was safe. “You need help?”

“Nope. I’m good. A tow truck is on its way.”

He recognized that husky, straightforward voice and stepped closer to the twenty-year-old Toyota Corolla that had a dent over the passenger side front tire. “Ms. Cavanaugh, you really shouldn’t sit out here like this. Anyone could come along.”

She looked up then and her eyes widened. Green. They looked green in the glow cast by his headlights. Her eyes darted nervously, too. “Ryan.”

“What happened?”

She slid off the hood and stood ramrod straight. “It sputtered and died. Look, you don’t have to worry. I called a tow truck.”

“When?”

“Just now.”

“I can’t leave you out here by yourself.”

“Sure you can. I’m fine.” Her shoulders straightened, but she didn’t look as confident as her tone sounded.

“I’ll wait with you till they come. In the meantime, why don’t you pop the hood and I’ll take a look.”

“Do you know anything about cars?” She reached inside the opened driver’s side window and did what he’d asked.

“I know engines. Do you happen to have a flashlight?”

“Umm, no. Just this one on my key ring.” She held up a little LED light.

“That’ll have to do.” He leaned over the car’s engine and looked around. “Point it this way.”

She did. And that brought her closer to where he stood. She smelled like fresh air and cinnamon gum.

“Does it turn over?”

“Does what turn over?” She looked confused.

Young and pretty, Kellie Cavanaugh perfectly fit the bill for a wild Irish rose complete with sharp little thorns that cut quick. Her reddish-brown hair was pulled back in a fat braid like the day he’d met with her. The wispy spirals around her face hinted at curls. What would all that hair look like loose?

Ryan refocused his thoughts. “The car. Why don’t you try and start it. Let me hear how it sounds.”

She climbed in behind the wheel and turned the key. The car ignited but wouldn’t start.

“That’s fine.” He held up his hand and then closed the hood.

She popped out of the car quick as a rabbit. “Do you know what it is?”

“Sounds like maybe your fuel pump. That’s my guess.”

She wrinkled her freckled nose. Definitely pretty. “Is that expensive to fix?”

He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Depends on what you consider expensive.”

She briefly closed her eyes. “Let’s just say the tow truck is expensive enough in my checkbook.”

He watched her closely. Her clothes were basic jeans and a sweater topped with a colorful scarf wound around her neck and a flannel-lined denim jacket that looked like it had seen better days. She’d dressed similarly at LightHouse Center.

He couldn’t stop the offer from coming out of his mouth. “I could take a look at it for you. Might be able to save you the cost of labor, at least.”

Her eyes shone with alarm and then she held up her hand. “No. Definitely not.”

He cocked his head. “Why not?”

“You’re a client of the agency where I intern.”

“So?”

“So it wouldn’t be right to take advantage of you to save a few bucks.”

He laughed out loud. “Take advantage? I offered. And I don’t know why considering you’re the one who put me there in the first place. Why’d you do that, Ms. Cavanaugh?”

She looked down at her booted feet. “My name’s Kellie.”

“Kellie, then.” He liked the sound of her name. Pert and to the point, it suited her.

Her movements were quick and jerky. Even standing still, she twisted the ends of that scarf with her fingers. Nervous energy or did he make her uncomfortable?

He tried again. “Why’d you recommend me for treatment?”

“This conversation is completely inappropriate.”

He laughed at that, but the sound came out harsh and bitter. “Why? It’s about me. I read your evaluation. You think I’m headed for, let’s see, how did you phrase it? Alcohol dependence due to a traumatic event in my recent history.”

Her eyes flashed with defensive annoyance. “I think you need help.”

He spotted the revolving red lights of the tow truck way down the road. “Yeah, well, so do you. How do you plan to get home once your car’s towed to the garage?”

“I’ll call...” She glanced at her watch, and her brow furrowed. “Maybe a cab.”

He shook his head. No way was he letting her travel miles back to town with a greasy tow guy alone, only to sit and wait outside the closed-for-the-day mechanic’s shop in town. Alone. “I live out this way. I’ll give you a lift.”

“No.”

“Don’t give me any guff about conflict of interest. You’re pinched for cash and I’m not about to let you go off by yourself. If something happened to you, I’d—” He broke off.

Her eyes challenged him. “Never forgive yourself?”

It would have stung less had she slapped him. Hard. “Yeah, that’s right. Do you want to be responsible for advancing my decline?”

“Nothing will happen.” But then her gaze wavered as she watched the big tow truck inch closer.

“You never know.” He crossed his arms and watched her. She deserved a little fear after what she’d put him through.

Her eyes widened and a chill seemed to shake her. Cold, or maybe she’d considered the possibilities and didn’t like the conclusions.

Upsetting her hadn’t given him the satisfaction he’d sought. Instead, he felt the urge to wrap his arms around her, pull her close and soothe her worries. Ryan had a feeling Kellie Cavanaugh carried around too many worries.

“If anyone finds out about this, I could get in big trouble.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re a client, and I’m an intern. I shouldn’t have any personal contact with you outside of a professional or community setting.”

He gave her an odd look. “I’m only giving you a ride home. It’s a neighborly thing to do in this community.”

“It looks bad.”

Ryan scanned the heavy woods on one side of the road and open fields of bare cherry trees on the other. “No one’s around to see and I won’t say a word, okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. Give me ride.”

He’d called her bluff. And he’d made her mad to boot.

The tow truck slowed to a stop with a whoosh of air and the rattling idle of a diesel engine. If she worried about being seen with him, she might as well stay out of sight. “You’re cold. Why don’t you sit in my vehicle while I help this guy load up your car.”

She didn’t argue, even though she looked like she wanted to. Instead, she turned on worn-out work boots and headed for his truck.

He watched her. Whisper-thin, she held her chin high as she pulled open the door harder than needed and nearly knocked herself over in the process. Pert didn’t begin to describe Kellie Cavanaugh, and that made him smile.

* * *

Kellie fumed while she waited. She’d been totally unprofessional baiting Ryan that way. And riding home with him bordered on unethical. What was wrong with her?

She was tired. Tired from studying and even more tired of living on a shoestring budget. She glanced in the side mirror. Ryan walked toward her and the tow truck backed up. All done? That was fast.

She slipped out of the truck clutching her purse. “Wait, I need to pay the tow guy.”

Ryan waved her back. “Don’t worry about it. It’s all set.”

“What do you mean, it’s all set?”

“I know him.”

“What’s that mean?” She didn’t move.

Ryan gave her a harassed look. “It means what it means. Get in the truck.”

“Did you pay him? Tell me how much and I’ll pay you back.” Cash would be better, but she didn’t have anything more than a five in her wallet. She really shouldn’t write a check to a client.

Ryan stood in front of her, hands on his hips. “Will you just get in the truck?”

Kellie looked up at him. There was well over six feet of handsome man in front her and her heart took a tumble. She was supposed to be safer with him? Ha! She should have taken her chances with the tow guy.

She glanced down the road. Too late. Her car was already on its way to the only mechanic in LeNaro.

Ryan opened the passenger side door for her, and his expression softened. “Really, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” She narrowed her eyes.

“Sure it is. I won’t tell a soul.” Ryan leaned against the door dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt over a T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up on strong forearms.

She stared at those defined muscles for a second too long before looking back into his face. He was built solid as a brick wall but she felt safe. Protected.

Weird.

The breeze rustled the fallen leaves giving the growing darkness of dusk a spooky feel. She wouldn’t like walking on a night like this, that’s for sure. She finally nodded and climbed back in. “Okay.”

“Watch your feet,” he said before shutting the door.

She fumbled with her seat belt while he slipped in behind the wheel.

“So, where do you live?”

“A few miles down this road. 3312 Lakeshore.”

His eyebrows rose at the address and his expression soured.

She knew what he was thinking. Poor little rich girl living on the lake but can’t afford a tow truck? Well, she didn’t ask for his help and he could choke on paying her way.

Again, she gave herself a mental shake. What was it about him that dug so deep under her skin?

As they drove in silence, Kellie studied him. Ryan Marsh had a classic hero complex. No wonder he took his fiancée’s accident so hard. A guy like him would torture himself over not preventing it from happening.

Overprotective? You better believe it.

Overbearing? Yes, ma’am.

And way too easy to look at.

“What?” Ryan caught her staring.

“You can turn left after the next mailbox.” She pointed beyond the road, hoping to distract him from that quizzical look he gave her. Her cheeks felt way too warm.

He slowed down and then pulled into the long drive.

“You can let me out here.”

He kept going.

“Did you hear me? This is good.”

“Yeah, but I’d just as soon see you get in the door safe and sound.”

Yep, ridiculously overprotective.

Again, the image of him as a gallant knight ready to slay a lurking dragon flitted through her mind. It was a refreshing change from what she’d been used to—guys who didn’t even bother to open doors. Ryan reminded her of what she’d always dreamed of—a prince who’d rescue her from the darkness. She quickly shook away those girlish thoughts. She’d learned that fairy tales didn’t come true and had the scars to remind her of that.

He slowed to a stop, but the rumbling sound of his huge truck would no doubt alert her landlady to their presence.

“Great. Now I’ll have some explaining to do to Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Who’s she?”

Kellie savored the moment to rub his nose in her situation and wipe away his poor-little-rich-girl impression. “She’s the elderly lady I live with. Rent a room from actually.”

Ryan gave her a swift look of surprise. She’d scored a hit. “How are you getting to work tomorrow?”

None of your business. But Kellie smiled sweetly instead. “I have a bike.”

Again, another look of surprise. “A motorcycle?”

“No. A bicycle.”

He frowned.

“It’s not too far to bike to town. I’ve done it before.” Several times in fact, to save on gas money. She slipped out of the truck before he could respond. Before he could recommend a different solution. “Thanks for the ride.”

Running up the walkway to the porch, Kellie turned and waved. True to his word, Ryan remained parked in Mrs. Wheeler’s driveway until she slipped into the house.

“Mrs. Wheeler? I’m home.” Home—yeah right.

It had been years since Kellie knew what a real home felt like. When she and her brother were little, there’d been happy times in their Grand Rapids area home. Especially at Christmas, her favorite holiday. They’d pile into the car and drive north of the city to hike into the woods and chop down a tree. Kellie and her mom took hours to decorate it. And she’d drink and eat her fill of hot chocolate and Christmas cookies.

A slender, white-haired woman peeked around the corner. “Oh. Kellie. I’m glad you made it. I started to worry.”

That was nice of her, but Kellie knew better. Mrs. Wheeler was more concerned about having her home after dark so she wouldn’t be all alone in her big house.

“My car broke down, so I got a ride.”

“From who?” The elderly woman looked horrified.

“Someone from work.” That’s all her landlady needed to know.

“Good. A young girl like you can’t be too careful, you know.”

“True. And I am careful. Well, good night.” Kellie turned to go to her rented room but hesitated when it looked like her landlady wanted to say more.

“All right then. I’m headed for bed and the TV. I’m glad you’re home.” Mrs. Wheeler usually made her way upstairs at nine-thirty on the dot. Every night. Tonight, she was early. Surely, the woman hadn’t worried herself sick. Kellie wasn’t used to anyone worrying over her.

“Are you feeling okay, Mrs. Wheeler?”

“Just a little tired today.”

Kellie narrowed her gaze. The woman looked healthy as a horse. She gave her landlady’s arm a quick and awkward pat. “Okay then, sleep well.”

“You, too.”

Kelly headed up the back stairs to her room. She had her own bathroom and a makeshift kitchen set up with a dorm-sized refrigerator, hot plate and George Foreman grill. What more could a girl want?

A whole lot more.

In time, things would be where she wanted them to be. Right where she’d prepared for things to be. Years of putting herself through school with menial jobs and student loans lay behind her. A good future lay ahead.

If she got that job in Traverse City.

Kellie kicked off her boots, shrugged out of her jacket and scarf and settled on the lumpy futon couch situated between two long, thin windows that overlooked the driveway. She pulled out her phone and scanned the internet for Ryan’s name and address. She found an R. Marsh with an address near her own.

3410 Lakeshore Drive.

No way did he live only a few houses away from her. In fact, they’d passed his place to get to hers. How could she have not noticed his address on his assessment paperwork? But then, he’d unnerved her from the beginning.

She jotted down his address onto an envelope. She’d confirm it at outpatient and then, as soon as she got paid from her part-time job, she’d drop fifty bucks into his mailbox.

* * *

Saturday morning, Ryan stepped into the office of Three Corner Community Church. His new sister-in-law had told him he’d find his brother here preparing for Sunday’s sermon.

Sinclair looked up once he heard him coming down the short hallway. “Hey, Ryan, what’s up?”

“Do you have a minute?” Ryan wasn’t on easy terms with his brother. Not like they used to be.

Three years ago, Sinclair had dared Sara to mow an S in the grass growing on the side of a hill along the hayfield they were cutting. Sara’s tractor flipped and crushed her. And Sinclair had run off on a mission trip to Haiti a week after the funeral. He’d stayed there until only a few months ago.

“Yeah, sure.” His brother cocked his head to the side and waited.

Ryan sat down. He hadn’t seen much of his brother since he’d recently married Sara’s sister, Hope. Ryan was glad they’d finally gotten together, but watching them around the Marsh family dinner table reminded him too much of happier times. He didn’t want to dampen their happiness with his dark moods, so he’d stayed away.

Ryan spotted Sinclair and Hope’s wedding picture on the desk and his fists clenched. “I need to do some community service hours and wondered if you knew of a good place around here.”

Sinclair sat forward. “Actually, I have the perfect solution. A single mom in our congregation is having a house built by a nonprofit group of churches that builds homes for needy families. They could really use someone with your skills.”

Ryan nodded. He’d been picking away at refurbishing his cottage for over a year now. Other than minor finishing work, it was pretty much done.

His brother pushed a sticky note with contact information toward him. “This is the church in charge of the program, and Jeff is the guy who oversees the construction.”

“Thanks.” Ryan picked it up and slipped the note in his wallet.

“So, how’s it going?”

Ryan shrugged. “Not like I’d ever planned. Mom probably told you, but that agency I had to see recommended me for counseling. So, I’m stuck for the next couple of months.”

Sinclair steepled his fingers. “Maybe it will help.”

“Right.” Ryan narrowed his gaze. “What did you tell that intern?”

His brother didn’t look away. “I told her what happened to Sara. And I told her that we’re all worried about you.”

Ryan nodded. There were things about that day he didn’t want to revisit. It was hard enough blocking out the vision of his fiancée lying on the ground. Another thing entirely to keep from hearing her last words spoken over and over in his dreams. The feel of her last kiss...

“Man, I’m sorry about all this.” Sinclair covered Ryan’s hand.

Ryan pulled back and stood. “Yeah, me, too. Thanks for the info. I’ll check it out.”

He made his way to the door.

“Ryan?”

He turned and looked at his brother’s concerned face. “Yeah?”

“If you need anything, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“Thanks.” Ryan nodded and left.

Sinclair hadn’t been around after the funeral when he’d needed his brother the most. When his life had stretched empty before him, Ryan had faced it alone knowing no one really knew what it had been like. Only Sinclair had been there the day of the accident. Only Sinclair knew what he’d gone through watching Sara die.

It was too late for talking out those feelings now.

Three years too late.

Chapter Three

Ugh! Forty degrees and rainy and her car was in the shop. Kellie shivered but kept pedaling. Her breath billowed white before her, and she had to blink constantly to clear the raindrops from her eyes. She should have worn a ball cap instead of the knitted hat she had on underneath her rain slicker.

She’d only ridden a mile out of town and already her jeans were soaked. Four more to go in this miserable mess. As soon as she got paid next week, she’d repay Ryan Marsh for the tow truck. Her car would be done before that, but she’d have to use her credit card to pay for it. Another climb on that plastic balance didn’t sit well, but she didn’t have much of a choice.

A car passed by, splashing dirty water all over her feet. Kellie gritted her teeth as cold rain trickled down her neck, but she kept pedaling. She puffed another billow of white breath in the cold evening air and picked up the pace in order to make the hill in front of her.

The exertion warmed her, but not even halfway up the hill, Kellie couldn’t push anymore. She slipped off her bike to walk the rest of the way when a dark blue pickup truck pulled off the road up ahead.

She knew that truck. And the tall man getting out of the driver’s side. Ryan Marsh, bundled in a dark gray rain parka, shortened the distance between them in no time.

He reached for her bike with his big square hands. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

Kellie didn’t let go. “No need. I’ve got it.”

The rain grew more insistent. So did Ryan’s expression. “You really think I’m going to leave you out here? You’re hard to see in this soup.”

Kellie had reflectors on her bike and a reflective strip across her backpack and rain slicker, but as dusk grew closer, so did patches of fog and mist. She glanced at the cab of his truck promising dry warmth and a quicker ride home. Her hands were cold inside damp gloves.

“It’s not like your place is out of my way. I live only a few houses down from you. Plus, I’ve got some questions about group sessions.” Ryan shrugged deeper into the hood of his jacket while rain trickled down the front. “I could really use your insight into what to expect.”

Kellie looked into his pleading eyes and felt the refusal die on her lips. He wanted her help. She wanted to get warm. How harmful could it be?

Kellie nodded and let go of her bike. She watched Ryan lift it with ease into the truck’s bed. She slipped off her backpack, climbed into the passenger side and buckled up.

Ryan settled in behind the wheel bringing with him a spray of raindrops. He cranked up the heat and pointed to the cup holders in the flip-down console between them. “I just filled my travel mug with hot chocolate at the gas station. Help yourself.”

Kellie looked with longing at the giant insulated mug, steam rising from the lid. She glanced in the backseat and spotted a brown grocery bag. What was in the bag? “No. That’s okay.”

He gave her quizzical look. “Kellie, go ahead and have it. You’re frozen. And in case you’re wondering what’s in the bag back there, it’s milk and cereal, not beer.”

True, she’d been wondering and nodded. Cold shivers racked her body and she suddenly didn’t care about drinking after him. Stripping off her wet gloves, she reached for the metal mug. She cradled her hands around the stainless steel warmth and sighed. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Looking in his mirror, he pulled back out onto the road.

After a few sips of hot chocolate, Kellie got down to business. This couldn’t be a social call. “You wanted insight into your sessions?”

“I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do.”

“You’ve met with John about your goals, right?”

“Yeah. My goal is to get this done and over with as quickly as possible.”

Kellie shifted in her seat so she could better see Ryan’s face. He looked annoyed. “Group will mean more if you focus on each session instead of the end result. Give yourself permission to open up and share your feelings in a safe environment.”

He gave a rude snort. “I’m not comfortable talking about my feelings with people I know let alone to an entire group of strangers.”

Kellie took another sip of chocolate. She didn’t point out that his refusal to deal with his feelings was what got him to this point. Ryan probably felt too much, and being the hero-type he wouldn’t dream of burdening someone else with his baggage. He’d carry his own, never wanting to appear weak or needy.

Kellie could definitely relate. Self-dependence was her mantra. Her safety measure. Maybe she didn’t let herself feel enough because strong feelings needed an outlet for release. She shook off those thoughts. Counseling required a certain level of emotional distance, and she’d learned how to distance herself pretty well.

Another sip of hot chocolate and she felt more human and less like a wet sponge. “Vocalizing can minimize the power those feelings have.”

He looked at her. “Talking about it isn’t going to make it go away.”

“How do you know?”

Ryan didn’t answer.

Kellie figured that he’d probably never talked about how the death of his fiancée had affected him. How if affected him still. Bottling up that much emotion was bound to one day pop his cork. Was it any wonder he’d sought something to numb the pain?

Silence stretched inside his truck emphasizing the whish-whish from the windshield wipers and the gentle hum of the heater. Kellie noticed that they had pulled on to their road. They were coming up to what should be his mailbox, but one of the numbers was missing. She’d already checked.

As if reading her mind, Ryan pointed in confirmation. “I live right there. I go through town every day on my way to work, so I can give you a ride tomorrow if you need it.”

“Thanks, but—”

He raised a hand. “I know, I know. Conflict of interest.”

“Ethics.” She smiled. “Accepting another ride from you is a definite conflict of ethics.”

Ryan shook his head. “That’s stupid. I suppose lying sprawled on the side of the road after you’d been clipped by a driver who couldn’t see you is more noble.”

He had a point. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you are.”

He pulled into her driveway and stopped along a row of trees. Putting the vehicle in Park and shutting off the noisy wipers, Ryan turned toward her with a grim face. “Look, I don’t want to feel the way I do.”

Listening to the sound of rain dancing along the roof of Ryan’s truck, Kellie held back from asking the obvious question of how he felt. She had a pretty good idea but had no business trying to counsel this guy through his issues. They tread dangerous ground as it was considering the intimate setting inside his warm truck.

She glanced at the mug of hot chocolate she’d been drinking, and the temptation to do something for him tugged at her. She looked him square in the eye. “Give group an honest effort. You’ll be surprised.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

Kellie’s hackles rose. That was a typical reaction from a person in denial. How many times had she heard someone say they didn’t deserve court-ordered treatment because it was someone else’s fault for the pickle they found themselves in? Disappointment swamped her. She’d thought maybe Ryan was different. Guess not.

She let loose a sigh. “No one forced you to go to that party.”

His gaze bore into hers, dark and angry. “I don’t deserve to be surprised, okay? Or happy.”

Kellie blinked. Talk about self-punishment. Ryan had beaten himself up long enough and he needed more than her playing counselor right now. They shared the same faith and yet a pat word of encouragement would never be enough. Ryan needed truth spoken into his life, but even more so, the guy needed peace. She couldn’t give him that. Only God could.

Searching her heart for the right words, she came up with the obvious. Or maybe God did. “No one deserves the gift of salvation, but Jesus died for us anyway so we’d have the right path to forgiveness.”

Ryan turned and stared out of the windshield, past the rivulets of rain running down the glass, past even the driveway that led to a yard spanning the short distance to the lake. Lake Leelanau was shrouded in mist.

Kellie didn’t know what he saw, but she’d guess that he revisited his fiancée’s accident frequently. Her heart twisted.

Gently, she touched his arm. “Group might be the path you need to take in order to forgive yourself.”

His hand covered hers. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” Kellie gave his arm a quick squeeze and noticed the mass of hard strength below layers of jacket and shirt.

Time to leave.

She made a move toward the door but Ryan held fast to her hand, stalling her. “You’re easy to talk to, did you know that?”

Considering the line of work she’d chosen, she hoped so. Considering the nice warm feel of Ryan’s hand on her own, she needed to get out of there fast.

“Thanks.” She pulled free and opened the passenger side door. A blast of damp cold air was exactly what she needed.

“Thanks for the ride and the hot chocolate. I can get my bike from here.”

The last part fell on deaf ears. Ryan was already out of his vehicle. He hopped up into the long bed of his truck as if the high height were nothing and handed down her bike.

Kellie took it, careful not to look into the trap of his eyes. “Thanks again.”

“See you around, Kellie.”

She waved, still not looking at him. She hoped she didn’t see Ryan around. In fact, she’d be much safer if she never saw him again.

* * *

The following week, while sitting in group listening to others share some frighteningly personal stuff, Ryan remembered his promise to Kellie. He’d try. He’d even prayed for patience through this whole group therapy thing. Bottom line, he couldn’t go on like he had. Isolated in his grief, he needed something more than beer to get through the empty nights.

He’d started his required community service hours working on the house for a single mom in Sinclair’s church. It helped. Now that he’d finished renovating his own place, he didn’t like being home alone with little left to do and nothing but empty time on his hands. Time to think too much. Time to miss Sara.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Running his hands through his hair, he nearly groaned. He was tired of being alone.

“Ryan? You okay?” John Thompson directed the group’s attention toward him after a silent pause between clients.

“Yeah.” It came out gravelly and raw.

That was so not true. He felt like he was breaking into pieces. Pieces he couldn’t glue back together. His stomach tightened and he suddenly felt like he might pass out. Sweat beaded across his forehead as his heart raced with the prompting to be honest. Come clean and be honest.

“No, I’m not.”

“You want to talk about it.” John leaned back in his chair, clipboard in hand, ready to take notes.

Ryan’s throat threatened to close up on him. “Not really.”

“We can wait. Take your time.”

Fighting against the quaking going on inside of him only made it worse. His eyes filled with tears, but he vowed he’d choke before he cried. “I—ah...”

He felt a hand briefly touch his shoulder. The woman with the tattoos. Jess was her name, and he’d been blown away by the harsh story of her life. Humbled.

If she could do this, so could he. “I need help.”

* * *

Kellie left the elementary school where she worked part-time as a teacher’s aide in her niece’s class. She slipped behind the wheel of her recently repaired but ancient car and smiled when it started right up.

The repair bill was not as steep as she expected. That had been a huge blessing. Someday, she’d buy a new car. If she got the school counselor job in Traverse City it might even be sooner than someday.

It took less than ten minutes to reach LightHouse Center across town. She’d left a book in her office that she needed to study for her looming certification test.

Kellie pulled into the parking lot and her stomach dropped like a stone thrown in water when she spotted Ryan’s pickup. She’d forgotten that he had group on Tuesdays. One of the two days that Kellie did not intern.

She checked her watch. They might not be done for a bit yet, so the coast was clear if she moved quickly. If she grabbed her book and ran.

Slipping into the lobby, Kellie gave the receptionist a wave. Marci, on the phone, waved back. Kellie made her way down the hall and into her tiny office. The book she needed lay open on her desk, right where she’d left it.

Snatching it up, she cradled the weighty text against her chest and headed for the door of her office. The telltale sounds of a group session breaking up made her move faster, but she wasn’t fast enough. Clients spilled out of the group session room down the hall and Ryan was one of them.

Too late. He noticed her and nodded.

One look at Ryan and Kellie couldn’t make her feet move. He’d been through the emotional wringer if his messy hair and red eyes were any indication. Trapped by the troubled look in his dark gaze, she backed against the wall to let people by. He seemed like he might want to talk to her.

She was floored by how badly she wanted to talk to him.

“Hey.” His voice sounded raw and scratchy.

“You okay?” It slipped out before Kellie could catch it.

He stepped closer to let others pass them, and she inhaled sharply. Ryan smelled warm and spicy and distinctly male.

He cleared his throat, but his voice remained low and soft. “Step one. I’m powerless against this grief.”

Kellie almost reached out to touch him. Almost. She clutched her book tighter instead. “That’s good.”

He hadn’t said alcohol, but then that wasn’t the only issue. Kellie believed Ryan had tried to numb his pain instead of dealing with it. He’d finally admitted defeat, and that was the starting point toward healing. The first step in recovery. She felt proud. For him.

“Yeah. We’ll see.” Ryan’s gaze dropped to her hands. “You’ve got your car back.”

Kellie realized her keys dangled from her fingers. “Yep.”

“No more riding in the rain.” Was that disappointment she heard in his voice?

“No more riding in the rain.” Kellie shook her head. No more rides needed from Ryan. Then she laughed. “I thank God for the good weather we had after that day.”

He shifted his stance. “So, uh, would you be up for a cup of coffee somewhere?”

Kellie’s stomach flipped. He wasn’t really asking her out. Ryan wanted to process what he’d just gone through in group. He’d said she was easy to talk to. That’s all it was. That’s all it could be.

But that was enough to get her in trouble if she accepted. She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Yeah, I know.” He pulled a white envelope out of his pocket. “Look, I don’t want this.”

Her eyes widened in panic. It was the fifty bucks she’d put in his mailbox. “Don’t even think about it,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare.”

He cocked his head like she’d gone crazy.

Kellie glanced down the hallway toward the group session room. Folks still mingled. She looked the other way and spotted Ginny watching them. Her breathing hitched.

Great. Kellie inched away from the wall. “Okay then, nice to see you, Ryan.”

His eyes narrowed, but then he nodded like he’d gotten the message. “You, too.”

Kellie’s heart beat madly in her ears as she watched Ryan walk away. She couldn’t breathe right. Not yet. Not with Ginny coming toward her.

“Hey, Ginny.”

The woman’s eyebrows lifted. “What was that?”

Kellie ignored the question and raised the text in her arms. “I forgot my book.”

“Come in a minute.” Ginny nodded toward her office.

Kellie’s stomach sank to the soles of her boots, but she followed her mentor. Ignoring the itchy feeling that skittered up her spine when Ginny closed the door, Kellie asked, “What’s up?”

“Be careful there, Kellie. Be very careful.”

Kellie couldn’t play dumb. Her mentor would see right through it and think less of her for doing so. She rubbed her temples. “I know.”

“So, what’s the deal with you and this guy?”

“Nothing. He was telling me how group went for him tonight. That’s all.”

Kellie didn’t dare admit to the rides Ryan had given her or that he’d asked her out for coffee. If Ginny blew her in to John, she could be fired. And that would be the end of her internship, and the chance for the Traverse City school counselor job.

“Keep it professional.”

“Absolutely.” Kellie breathed a little easier, but not much.

Ginny watched her too closely for comfort.

She knew.

Kellie had to get out of there fast before she admitted to the attraction she felt for Ryan. Ginny had that kind of influence on people. She got them to reveal their inner most feelings with one look, but Kellie was in no mood for confessions. “I gotta run. See you tomorrow.”

“Remember what I said.” Ginny used her motherly tone, the one that brooked no argument.

“I will. Thanks.” Kellie stuffed her nervousness down deep with a roll of her shoulders and hightailed it out of there.

Was the draw she felt toward Ryan plain to see? If so, she had some work to do controlling her reactions.

Better yet, Kellie needed to stay far away from Ryan Marsh before she lost everything she’d worked hard for.

Chapter Four

Kellie leaned over her seven-year-old niece’s desk to check her coloring project. “Nice job, Gracie.”

Gracie, missing both front teeth, grinned up at her. “Thanks.”

Kellie scanned the second grade classroom where she worked as a teacher’s assistant. The bulletin board was filled with colorful leaves cut from red, yellow and orange construction paper. Leaves also hung from the ceiling, but they should have been scattered on the floor to be accurate. A few days of strong winds had tossed most of the outside leaves from the trees. Something about the cluttered creativity of elementary schools warmed Kellie’s heart, not to mention that kids were naturally open and honest.

Beth Ryken, the teacher she assisted at LeNaro Elementary, stepped close and smiled. “You’re pretty special to have your aunt help out in the classroom.”

“Yup.” Gracie nodded as she used a green crayon to make grass around her drawing of yet another small house with flowers growing in the front yard.

Kellie was fortunate to have nabbed this part-time position at the end of the summer. It was the perfect way to work near her related field and earn some money while she interned. She was sick of slinging pizzas into the wee hours of the night and smelling like burnt cheese when she got home.

Beth cocked her head toward her desk. “Kellie, can I talk with you a minute?”

“Sure.” Kellie followed the tall blonde toward the back of the room. “What’s up?”

“I got a call from the school in Traverse City. They’re checking out your references, so that’s got to be a good sign. I think you’ll get a second interview.”

Kellie fought the urge to chew her fingernails, a habit she’d beaten long ago, but the temptation still reared its ugly head. She wanted this chance so badly. “So, what’d you say?”

Beth grinned and tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder. The woman was gorgeous but didn’t seem to know it. A rare combo. “Only that you’re great with kids because you really listen to them. I’m going to miss having you in my class.”

Kellie let loose a nervous laugh. Everything seemed to be coming together. Everything she’d worked so hard for. “I haven’t gotten the job yet. Besides, I have to pass section fifty-one of the Michigan Test for Teacher Certification.”

“You will.”

“I hope so.” Kellie had been studying. Hard.

Saturday, she’d finally take the monstrous thing and in the nick of time, too. She didn’t want to leave anything to chance and miss this job opportunity. Traverse City was the perfect location—close enough for her to be near her nieces, yet far enough away from her folks, who still lived in Grand Rapids.

Funny. Growing up, she’d pined for her parents’ time and undivided attention. As an adult, she visited them when she had to for holidays and birthdays. Sure, she loved them, but she’d stopped depending on her mom and dad a long time ago.

“I’m done.” Gracie popped up out of her seat.

“Very good, Gracie. We’ll collect your work when everyone’s finished with theirs,” Beth said.

Gracie slipped back into her seat. “Aunt Kellie, are you coming to the house tonight?”

“I’m going to try.” Kellie hadn’t been there the last couple of weeks because of studies for her upcoming test.

“She’s really excited about their new home,” Beth said. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that houses take center stage in every one of her drawings, her collages, everything.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” Poor kid equated a real house with stability. Not bad for a seven-year-old.

Gracie’s mom, Dorrie, had applied for and been accepted by a nonprofit group of churches that built homes for needy families that qualified. Dorrie did everything she could to give Gracie and her older sister Hannah a sense of security despite their many moves, and this new home promised stability. Something they’d been missing along with the fact that they never saw their father—her brother, Karl.

A twinge of guilt knotted in Kellie’s stomach. A few weeks ago, Dorrie had told her that many of the summertime volunteers for the Church Hammers group had dropped off, leaving her house behind schedule on construction. Kellie still hadn’t picked up the pace in helping out. She’d been too busy studying, both for the upcoming certification exam and teen group dynamics for her internship at LightHouse Center.

The bell rang announcing the end of the school day and kids bounded for their coats. Beth’s instructions to leave their projects on their desks fell on deaf ears. Some gathered theirs up only to dump them on their teacher’s desk and then race for their in-class cubby lockers.

After helping with the raucous mass exodus of second graders, Kellie returned to the classroom to help Beth straighten up and grade papers. She had plenty of time to make it to the construction site, work for a bit and then head home to study.

Kellie finally scooped up her purse. “Hey, I gotta run.”

“Yeah, I’m leaving, too. Thanks for your help. See you later in the week.” Beth gave her a wave.

Once in her car, Kellie rolled her shoulders. A few hours at Dorrie’s might do her some good. She could concentrate on manual labor for a change. No brain exercises, no worries.

Kellie drove out of town, past her road and headed north toward Dorrie’s building site. Church Hammers built homes every other year for a needy family. This year, Dorrie and her nieces were that needy family. Needy, like her. Casualties left in the wake of her brother’s neglect and drug use.

Kellie parked on the side of the road where there were already a few cars and pickup trucks. One of them looked disturbingly familiar and her gut clenched.

No way. Not here. There’s dozens of dark blue trucks in Northern Michigan.

Shaking off images of the man who consumed her thoughts enough lately, Kellie gathered up her work gloves and walked along the gravel driveway.

The newly sided house was a pretty little ranch on a large lot at the beginning of a quiet cul-de-sac. This struggling housing development lay smack in the middle of cherry country so the views were beautiful, especially in May when the cherry trees were in blossom. The builder who’d donated the lot must have needed a tax break since several other lots still sported rusty For Sale signs. Real estate, especially new builds, moved super slowly these days. If at all.

Scanning the darkening horizon, Kellie wondered if they were in for more rain. Thankfully the volunteers worked primarily inside. The house had been roughed in with the plumbing and electrical wiring completed. Opening the side door, Kellie stepped into the unfinished kitchen. Zipping sounds of electric drills and the tap-tap of staple guns greeted her.

“Aunt Kellie!” Gracie tore around the corner and launched into her arms.

“Hey, Gracie.” Kellie looked up as her older niece Hannah hobbled her way toward them.

“Hi, Aunt Kellie.” Hannah’s recovery from a mowing accident that cut her Achilles tendon this past summer was slow but sure. She wore an air cast to her knee.

“How’s the leg?”

Hannah shrugged. “It’s okay. I have to go to physical therapy when the cast comes off.”

“Take it easy until then.” Kellie tugged on one of Hannah’s pigtails. How would Dorrie manage that? Kellie would help where she could. “Where’s your mom?”

“In the living room. They’re hanging insulation.”

Kellie nodded and stepped forward holding Gracie’s hand. But when she entered the living room, she sucked in a breath. Ryan, wearing a tool belt and looking too much like a permanent fixture, held a swath of pink insulation while Dorrie staple-gunned the sides in place.

“Mommy, Aunt Kellie’s here,” Gracie announced.

Kellie heard Dorrie’s greeting, but her gaze was fixed on Ryan. It appeared as though she couldn’t escape this guy.

He turned and smiled. “Hey, Kellie.”

It was a devastatingly handsome smile. All traces of having gone through an emotional meltdown in group last week were gone. He looked healthy and strong. And good. Way too good.

Kellie felt like a deer blinded by headlights. “Hi.”

Dorrie looked from her to Ryan. “You guys know each other?”

“Yeah.” Again with the smile, like they shared a secret. “We’ve met.”

Kellie found her tongue. “Right. Okay, put me to work, Dorrie.”

“Ryan’s your guy for directions.” Dorrie stepped down from the short ladder and whipped off her gloves to wipe her forehead. “I do what he tells me.”

Kellie’s startled gaze locked back on Ryan.

“Might as well take a break. I’ve got to get more rolls of insulation from the trailer.” Ryan tucked his gloves into the back pocket of his jeans.

Dorrie nodded and gathered her daughters close. “Come on girls, I’ve got a job for you two.”

Kellie looked around. This was the last room to be insulated. A couple of men were working on laying the floor in the dining room. And a couple of women prepped the kitchen for the dinner that would be brought in by more volunteers. Not exactly a big group. More guilt washed through her.

Ryan stepped toward her. “So, you’re Aunt Kellie. I never put the two together. I didn’t think you had any family here.”

“Just Dorrie and the girls.” Kellie had moved here because of them. And because she could complete her master’s at the regional location of Western Michigan University in Traverse City.

“Talk about a small world.”

Way too small. “What are you doing here?”

“Help me get the insulation?” He nodded toward the door.

She gestured for him to lead the way. They walked in silence through the front door outside into the crisp autumn evening. A huge builder’s trailer sat parked on the grass beside the driveway.

Ryan lifted the trailer door and jumped up to grab some kind of metal cart. “This is where I’m putting in my community service hours.”

“Ah.” Now it made sense that he didn’t want to announce that in front of the other volunteers. “Does Dorrie know?”

He leaned against the wall of the trailer. “Yeah. I figured she should because of her kids. She also happens to go to my brother’s church.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

He shrugged. “A couple weeks. The builder that oversees the project signs off on my hours for the court.”

But Dorrie made it sound like he was somehow in charge. Did he have experience in construction, too? “I thought you worked for a research center that grew cherries.”

“And some other fruits, yeah. So?”

“You looked like you knew what you’re doing in there.”

He smiled. “It’s not rocket science. I finished up my own home project this summer. I know my way around the basics.”

“Oh.” Like he knew engines. Ryan Marsh was a pretty handy guy.

Clearly, Dorrie needed his expertise, and Kellie couldn’t argue with Ryan’s choice of community service. But something swished deep inside her gut like an unpleasant stirring of her defenses. Would Dorrie depend on Ryan for more than his construction help?

Kellie wouldn’t blame her if she did. The woman shouldered so much on her own, and Kellie knew Hannah’s accident had taken a heavy toll. Still, Kellie didn’t like where her brain had gone. She didn’t like the thought of Dorrie and Ryan together. But Kellie had no claim on Ryan. She couldn’t have.

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