to his, and she saw a question in his eyes as he noted her interest. Heat scorched her cheeks. She didn’t usually stare at anyone, least of all a man. And then to be caught doing it mortified her.
She averted her head and asked the first thing that popped into her mind, “Did you mean it when you said you’d help me with a budget?”
“I never say anything unless I mean it.” He continued putting away his food, though thankfully his back was to her now.
If she’d had to look into his face, she would have fled the apartment. She couldn’t believe she had openly stared at him again and then worse been caught doing it. She really had no experience when it came to men. The only one she had seriously dated had been Tom her senior year in high school. Not long after she’d graduated, they had married. Crystal had been born two years later.
“I could use your help,” she murmured, surprised at her boldness in asking him for help.
“I can come over later tonight.” He paused for several heartbeats. “Unless you have other plans.”
Like a date, she thought, then nearly laughed out loud. There were some people in town who still thought she might have known about what Tom had been doing after Crystal’s accident. If it weren’t for her church and circle of friends, she would have left Sweetwater rather than endure their silent accusations that she had known Tom had been setting fire to all those barns. She’d never dreamed that her husband’s rage at Crystal’s accident and her paralysis would manifest itself that way. She’d been so wrapped up in dealing with Crystal’s recovery and her own manic depression she hadn’t seen the signs. Guilt still gnawed at her insides over not being there for Tom when he’d needed her the most. That guilt had plunged her into some dark times once, but she wouldn’t allow it to again.
“I don’t have any plans except picking Crystal up and then doing the chores that I leave for the weekend.”
His gaze fixed on her. “I’ll come over around eight then.”
“That’s fine.” His loneliness, a palpable force, reached out to her and drew her to him.
She took a step toward Chance, grabbing a can of green beans and thrusting it at him. Her hand trembled as he took it, his fingers brushing against hers. Her breath caught in her throat as his look delved beneath her surface as if he searched for her innermost thoughts.
He opened his mouth to say something but instead snapped it close, spun around and placed the can on a shelf. “Great, then I’ll see you later.”
She was being dismissed again, but for some reason she didn’t want to leave just yet. Even though tension vibrated in the air, a strong need to comfort—again she had no idea what or why—swamped her. She curled her hands into tight fists to keep from touching his arm.
“Listen, if there’s anything—”
“Thanks, for helping me put my groceries up. If you’re gonna pick up Crystal, you’d better get going.” He turned his back to her and opened another cabinet door.
Tanya backed up several paces, saying, “You’re right. I’d better leave.” She whirled around and hurried from the apartment.
Out on the landing she paused and stared down at her driveway and the back of her house. She couldn’t shake the feeling that God was pushing her toward Chance Taylor, that he needed a friend, someone to show him the power of the Lord. With quivering hands, she gripped the wooden railing.
Lord, how can I be Your instrument when my own life is so messed up?
No answer came to mind, leaving her feeling as though God was saying everyone can help another in need. Is that true? There was only one way to find out. She would be Chance’s friend because she knew what it was like not to have one. She also knew the difference her friends had made in her life. No one should go through life without people to care about him, and for some reason, she sensed Chance was totally alone.
With a glance at her watch, she noted the time. She had to pick up Crystal in less than five minutes. Rushing down the stairs, she withdrew her keys from her jeans pocket then climbed into the van.
Ten minutes later she pulled into the parking lot next to the church and jogged toward the back door that led into the classrooms. Usually Crystal was waiting for her by the entrance, but today she wasn’t around. As Tanya headed down the long hallway, she heard voices coming from the last room on the left where the youth group met.
She started to enter when her daughter’s words halted her.
“I don’t know what to do about them, Sean.”
“Ignore them. They aren’t worth your time.”
“I wish I could.”
The sob in Crystal’s voice contracted Tanya’s heart. She hurried inside. “Honey, are you all right?”
With her daughter’s back to her, she couldn’t see Crystal’s face as she answered, “Yeah, sure.”
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Tanya took a step forward.
“You aren’t that late. Sean’s been keeping me company.”
A strange expression flitted across Darcy’s son’s features before he pulled himself together. “Yeah, Mrs. Bolton. Crystal’s been receiving a lot of spam lately on the Internet.”
If Tanya hadn’t sensed the seriousness of the situation, she would have choked on her laughter. “Spam?”
Crystal finally swung her wheelchair around. “Yeah, I went to the wrong web site by mistake and now I’m getting all kinds of spam.”
Tanya knew that probably wasn’t what Sean and Crystal had been talking about, but she also knew by the tilt to her daughter’s chin she wouldn’t get it out of her until Crystal was ready to tell her. Her daughter had been keeping a lot of secrets lately. But that didn’t mean Tanya wouldn’t do some more checking around. When she had talked with Zoey and Beth earlier about this, they hadn’t known what was going on but said they would look into it for her. “I guess I can take a look at it, but I don’t know much about computers.”
Sean shot to his feet. “That’s okay. I’ll come over tomorrow after church and see what I can do.”
“That’s great. See, Crystal, how easy the problem can be fixed? From what Darcy says, Sean can do anything with a computer.”
“Yeah, Mom,” her daughter mumbled with her head down, her hands twisting together in her lap. “This may not be that easy to take care of.”
The sound of his feet pounding against the pavement lured him into a rhythmic trance as Chance ran down Berryhill Road, heading toward his temporary home. Sweat drenched his white T-shirt and face. He almost went past the one-story older house with a detached garage and apartment above it. He jogged a few yards beyond, slowed and circled back around.
Freedom, as he hadn’t experienced in years, called to him. He wanted to keep going, but his body screamed with exhaustion, not used to this form of exercise—not for the two years he’d spent incarcerated.
He came to a stop at the end of the driveway and bent over, drawing in lungfuls of rich oxygen, the air scented with the
