chest. “But I know this isn’t a little change. He needs a reason to want to stay.”
“I could meet you on Monday and escort you two to the classroom, maybe distract him while you leave. What else does Jason like besides yellow and cats?”
“Actually any kind of animal.”
“That’s wonderful. Mrs. Bradley told me she was getting a rabbit over the weekend for the class. Maybe I could get him involved with the rabbit.”
“That might be enough.”
“Has he ever gone out to Stone’s Refuge to the barn with the animals?”
Shane shook his head.
“You ought to take him. Peter and Laura have a wonderful collection of all kinds of animals, mostly abandoned and in need of love.” Was that the reason she was drawn to Stone’s Refuge and the barn? There had been so many times in her life she’d felt that way. Stone’s Refuge was a place where children for whom the state couldn’t find foster parents were placed.
“I’ll have to ask Peter about visiting with Jason when I’m out there next time.”
“Do you go often?” She’d never seen him there even though she’d known he worked with some of the kids.
“Occasionally, especially when I want to see a child I’m counseling in his normal environment.” Shane pushed to an erect stance. “We’d better let you eat. It’s getting close to Jason’s bedtime and his ritual takes a while to get him ready to go to sleep.”
Whitney stood. “It sounds like routines are important with Jason.”
“Yes, but then with most children they are, just more so with him.” Shane turned toward his son. “Jason.” He didn’t continue until he had his child’s attention. “We need to go home, buddy.” Shane strode to the front door and opened it, then waited for Jason to put down the cat.
Reluctantly, his son let go of Calico and hurried out of the apartment and down the stairs.
“Good night, Whitney, and welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Thanks for the dinner.”
Shane followed Jason who paused next to Whitney’s car and ran his hand along its length.
Swinging around and backpedaling, Shane looked up at her. “Was it fixed okay?”
“Yes. Actually I think it runs even better,” she said, leaning against the wooden railing on her small porch.
“That’s wonderful. At least something good came out of what happened on Monday.” Shane faced forward and took his son’s hand before heading across the street toward his house.
Whitney watched them until they disappeared from her view, the dim light of dusk settling over the neighborhood. The August heat of an Oklahoma day still lingered in the air. A cardinal chirped in a nearby maple, its bright red coloring vivid among the green foliage. The scent of the honeysuckle bush beneath her porch along the side of the garage sweetened the warm breeze that blew.
The move today had made her aware of just how much her life was changing—like Jason’s. Maybe they could help each other through the change.
Returning from the grocery store after coming home from church, Shane drove past Whitney’s apartment, his gaze straying to it. Was she busy unpacking? He remembered all the unopened boxes stacked in her living area the night before. Did she need help? Was her family going to help today?
He had to agree with his son about her hair. The color was a rich, deep gold. It fell in thick waves about her shoulders, inviting a person to caress it as if it were a waterfall of sunshine.
And why in the world was he even thinking about her? She had a Do Not Disturb sign hanging around her neck. She didn’t trust others. He knew that in his gut because he had recognized the defensive signs, a certain wary look in the eye, an “I want to do everything myself” attitude, because trusting meant putting yourself out there to be hurt.
He also knew a little about not trusting. When Becka, his pregnant wife, had been killed in a house fire, he’d gone through a period where he’d backed away from family and friends. Then Aunt Louise had appeared at his doorstep and shown him the importance of trusting in the Lord. Once he had turned to Him, the rest fell into place. Yes, there were times he was disappointed in others or hurt by them, but the alternative was worse—cutting yourself off from people, especially the ones who really cared about you. But having been deeply in love with his wife, he never wanted to feel that kind of loss ever again.
He was perfectly content to focus on Jason. He’d grown to appreciate his son and his unique perspective on life. Jason was his life now.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about Whitney?
Pushing the question from his mind, he parked in his driveway and climbed from his vehicle. He grabbed the sack with bread and strawberry jam he’d gotten at the store for his aunt so she could fix Jason’s lunch and headed toward the front door. Inside silence greeted him. Too quiet. Usually the radio in the kitchen was going or the television in the den. Or Jason was jabbering to his aunt or one of his toys.
Had Aunt Louise taken Jason out? Shane moved toward the kitchen, his aunt’s domain and where she spent a lot of time. Just inside the door Shane glimpsed his son in the den, sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor, rocking back and forth with a broad grin on his face. Shane’s gaze swept the kitchen. No Aunt Louise.
Moving toward the den, he scanned that room. His gaze came to an abrupt halt a foot from his son. Hidden from his earlier perusal Aunt Louise lay on the area carpet.
Shane raced to her and felt her pulse. He breathed a sigh when he got one. Digging in his pocket for his cell, he punched in 9-1-1 while he looked over at his son to make sure he was all right. Jason still smiled, as though nothing was wrong. In his mind it wasn’t.
After giving the operator the necessary information and asking that the siren not be used within a few blocks of the street, he turned to his son again. Sirens, like thunder, would upset Jason.
“Why don’t you go watch Animal Planet in my bedroom?” Shane didn’t want him to witness the EMTs taking Aunt Louise away.
“Can Auntie watch?”
Knowing Jason, when someone’s eyes were closed, he would think she was sleeping, not hurt. “Maybe later.”
As his son left the den, Aunt Louise’s eyes fluttered open. She stared at Shane, her forehead wrinkling. “What am…” She tried to rise to a sitting position but instead wilted back against the carpet. “Why—am I—on the floor?” she murmured, bringing her hand to her head and covering her eyes for a few seconds.
“That’s a good question. You don’t remember?”
Her hand slid away from her face. “I—No.”
A few minutes later when the doorbell rang, Shane sighed. “That’s the paramedics. I called 9-1-1. Be right back.” He hurried to the front door and let the two EMTs inside. “She’s in the den. She’s awake now but groggy.”
“What happened?” the
