He glanced toward the kitchen. “Do you mind if we finish our coffee before we leave? I haven’t had coffee that good since I left home.”
“That’s Sara. She can make anything taste wonderful.” Laurel led the way to the kitchen.
Kyle stood back but Sara, her cheeks now pink, motioned for him to precede her. Once he was seated, she poured fresh coffee. Then she sat with folded hands, listening intently as he and Laurel chatted, though she never offered her own opinion. Very aware of the way Sara kept glancing toward the office, Kyle figured she must be impatient to check her email so he finished his coffee quickly, almost scalding his tongue.
It was time to go home. Time to stop avoiding the truth.
Back in Laurel’s car, Sara again sat in the rear seat but this time she leaned forward to listen as Kyle described Churchill’s landmarks. Ten minutes later they arrived at his father’s house.
“I’m sure you’d like a few moments alone,” Laurel said. “I have some things to do downtown. We’ll come back in half an hour. Will that give you enough time, Kyle?”
A lifetime wouldn’t be enough to reconcile losing his father but all he said was “Yes. Thanks.” He climbed out awkwardly.
In a flash, Sara exited the car and lugged his bag to the door.
“Will you truly be all right?” she asked, her somber gaze holding his.
“I’ll be fine.” He wanted to be upset at her for lugging his suitcase out, but her compassion was genuine so he forced himself to smile. “I’m used to managing.”
“Okay.” She opened her mouth to say something more, but apparently thought better of it because she turned around and climbed back into Laurel’s car without another word.
Kyle waited until the battered SUV rumbled away. Then he faced the house.
Home. He was finally home.
He squeezed his eyes closed against the loss that burned inside.
Why didn’t You take me instead? he asked God. I’m useless, but Dad wasn’t. He was needed around here. What am I supposed to do now?
Kyle stood there, waiting. But no answer came.
He was all alone. He’d better get used to it.
* * *
He was strong, he was knowledgeable and he was kind enough to help when asked. But Kyle Loness made Sara daydream and she couldn’t afford that.
Because of Maria.
“Sara? Are you awake?” Laurel shifted the van into Park then turned to frown at her. “Oh, you are awake.”
“Yes.” Sara shoved away thoughts of Kyle.
“Well, I’m going to be about fifteen minutes. Then we’ll pick up a few groceries before we go back to Kyle’s. Do you want to wait for me in the car?” she asked as she climbed out.
“No.” Sara followed her onto the sidewalk. “I’d rather walk a bit. I need to stretch my legs.”
“Okay. Stick to the main street. I remember your skewed sense of direction,” Laurel teased. “Don’t get lost on your first day in Churchill.”
“I’m better at direction now than I was.” Sara blushed, embarrassed by the reminder of her first faux pas after she’d left foster care. “I won’t get lost.”
She waited until Laurel had entered the building before heading toward Kyle’s house.
The thing was, no matter how Sara tried, she couldn’t seem to forget about him, and not just because he was so good-looking. Good-looking? Her brain scoffed. Kyle Loness was heartbreakingly handsome. Tall and muscular, the faint shadow of a beard defined the sharp jut of his jaw. Sara supposed he grew it to hide the scar that ran from the outside corner of his eye straight down past his jawbone, which, in her opinion, did nothing to diminish his good looks. And when he’d looked at her with his cornflower-blue eyes, a funny little shiver wiggled inside her, just like the heroines in the romantic novels she loved. How silly was that?
But it wasn’t only his good looks that drew her. The image of Kyle working on Laurel’s printer had been burned into her brain. Obviously he knew about computers. And she didn’t. But she could learn, if someone would teach her. Someone like—Kyle? Maybe he could help her find her family.
Sara scanned the street ahead and saw him standing where they’d left him. Her silly heart resumed the pattering that had begun when he’d stepped off the platform and stumbled into her arms. She tried to quell it by reminding herself that Kyle Loness would find little interest in her. Why would he? Sara knew nothing about men.
Is it only his computer knowledge that intrigues you?
Of course it was. He might look like a romance hero but Sara knew nothing about romance, men or relationships.
Confused by her thoughts, she refocused on Kyle, who seemed lost in thought. Then he straightened, stepped toward the house and jerked to a stop. In a flash Sara realized why. Kyle had forgotten about the stairs and was now trying to figure out how to maneuver them to get into his house.
She had a clear view of his face. The pain lines she’d glimpsed on the train when he’d hobbled to his seat this morning had now etched deep grooves on either side of his mouth. He bit his bottom lip, grabbed the railings on either side and basically dragged himself upward, inch by painful inch, increasingly favoring his injured leg. His chiseled face stretched taut with concentration as he fought his way upward. She held her breath, silently praying for him, only exhaling when he finally conquered the last stair.
When Kyle paused, chest heaving with his efforts, Sara wanted to cheer. The sun revealed beads of perspiration dotting his face. For a moment he seemed to waver, as he had when he’d stepped off the train and again earlier, in Laurel’s office. Sara took an automatic step forward to help, but froze when he reached out and turned the doorknob.
This was his homecoming. He wouldn’t want her there.
She didn’t belong. Again.
Hurt arrowed a path through her heart. She squeezed her eyes closed.
Focus on why you’re here, Sara. You’re here to help the kids. To figure out God’s plans for your future and to make up for Maria.
For years Sara had tried not to think about the little girl. But now, as she fingered the scar at her wrist, the memories burst free of the prison she’d locked them in.
She’d been twelve when she tried to escape her foster home, unaware that her foster sister had followed her onto the busy street—until she heard Maria’s cry when the car hit her. Sara had rushed to the child, cradling her tiny body as life slipped away, unaware of the shards of headlight glass that dug into her wrists, left behind by the speeding car.
Sweet, loving Maria had died because of her.
In shock and overwhelmed by guilt, Sara had been too scared to tell police the real reason she’d run, so after she’d relayed all she remembered about the car that had hit Maria and received stitches on her wrists, they’d
