28

Wednesday morning, Hayley pushed the couch back into place and shut off the vacuum. Lugging the machine around the large farmhouse took a lot of effort. How had Laureen managed, even before she broke her arm? Thank you, Lord Jesus, for letting me help her.

Earlier, Hayley had pulled cereal bowls from the cupboard and placed them on the scarred table. Laureen usually set the table because she said it made her feel useful. But today, she’d admitted she didn’t feel steady enough to handle dishes.

Laureen’s chin had trembled as she groped for the table and sank onto her chair. “I don’t mean to grumble. But I’m used to serving, not being served.” She’d patted Hayley’s hand. “I am thankful for you, my dear. Please forgive my rotten mood.”

Laureen’s dizzy spells seemed to be getting worse. A twinge of apprehension wriggled through Hayley’s mind. How could she not worry when the woman she loved like a mother grew less steady with each passing day?

“Hayley, do you have a minute?” Laureen gripped the doorway dividing the living room from the kitchen.

“Sure. Do I have time to put away the vacuum cleaner first?” At Laureen’s nod, Hayley picked up the machine and carried it to the broom closet.

When she entered the kitchen, Franklin and Laureen sat shoulder to shoulder as though supporting one another.

“What’s wrong?”

The old couple shared a long look before Laureen spoke. “You know my videostagmography, the ‘dizzy test’ appointment is this afternoon. Franklin was going to drive me, but plans have changed. His cardiologist had a cancellation and wants him to come in today. He wants to run some tests and said Franklin shouldn’t drive. The cardiologist is at Royal University Hospital, and my test is at St. Paul’s. To make matters worse, Franklin’s appointment is at two, and mine is at two-thirty. We need your help, Hayley.”

Hayley had driven to the mall at the edge of the city for groceries and other supplies, but that was as far as she’d dared. How could they expect her to drive right through downtown Saskatoon?

“You’ll be fine, missy.” Franklin winked. “While we’re lounging in our respective waiting rooms, you should have time to visit Trevor, maybe steal him away for a cup of coffee.”

The tightness in Hayley’s throat melted away. Coffee with Trevor would be a sweet reward for stepping so far outside her comfort zone. She smiled, and hoped her lips didn’t tremble. “I’ll do it. As you keep reminding me, God’s got this.”

The responsibility of transporting these precious people terrified her. What if she froze at the wheel? What if she got lost? All kinds of terrible scenarios ran through her mind. Please, dear Lord, give me courage. I need to overcome this fear. For all of us.

~*~

Trevor stood behind the counter and wrote up an order for custom-made leather bike gear for a forty-something couple. His mouth quirked upward as he wrote in the special requests. “Lady” on the woman’s jacket sleeve, and “Duke” on the man’s. Pretty cheesy, but it was what they wanted.

The man watched Trevor write. “Yep. Comin’ up on our twentieth anniversary, so we figured we’d check this off our bucket list. Plannin’ to ride right across this great country this summer on our Honda Goldwing.”

“Twenty years, eh? Congratulations.” He looked forward to twenty years with Hayley. And then another twenty, and another…

The man slid his arm around his wife’s waist and tugged her closer. “Thanks, man. Hasn’t always been easy, but this lady’s sure worth the effort.”

The stout, rather plain-faced woman’s smile lit her face and made her look almost beautiful. “Are you married?”

Trevor shook his head. “Not yet, but I hope to change that soon.”

“Sweet.”

Trevor smiled as he finished the order, collected their deposit, and walked the couple to the door. “I’ll give you a call when your order arrives. Thanks for coming in.” He opened the door for them, and as they exited, a figure across the street caught his eye. His jaw clenched, and he blinked. He looked again, and the person was gone. Trevor rubbed his jaw as he headed for the back room.

Something about the guy reminded him of his old foster dad, Larry Kirby. But he’d heard that Kirby had left Saskatchewan. Gone to the Maritimes.

Trevor smacked his palm against the workbench. That creep better not show his face, or he would finally get what he deserved.

Like you got what you deserved?

Trevor gritted his teeth. Sure, God had forgiven him and everything he’d done. And he was grateful. But he could never forgive Larry Kirby. Trevor had vowed a long time ago to kill the dirt bag, and given the opportunity, he would.

God wouldn’t expect him to break a vow, would He? Trevor sighed. Yeah, God probably would. “Forgive as He has forgiven you.” Max’s voice echoed in his head. But in this case, God asked too much.

Trevor put on his safety glasses, clamped a rusty fender onto the work bench, and began to grind away the oxidation. Sparks and grit flew. After several minutes, Trevor shut off the grinder and wiped the fender. Clean metal gleamed under the fluorescent lights. The transformation pricked his conscience and made him wince. He hoped God wouldn’t have to use a grinder on him, to clean off his rust of hate. Trevor jumped when Ryan slapped him on the back.

“Hey, T, you might want to check your phone. It just sang a real pretty love song to me.” He struck a pose with his back arched and a hand over his heart and sang about a man loving a woman.

Hayley’s ringtone. Trevor grinned, slugged his friend’s arm, and strode to the locked closet where they stored their personal items. He scrolled through the messages. Concern replaced excitement. Hayley hated to drive in the city, even though she’d been working at overcoming her fear. And why did his dad need to see a cardiologist? Then he recalled the times his dad seemed unable to catch his breath.

After she dropped off his parents, Hayley wanted to take him out for coffee. That would perk up his day. Trevor groaned at his unintentional pun. He typed his response. Yes, come. Busy, but I will make time for you. U R worth it. His finger hovered over a silly heart emoticon. Nope. Not even for Hayley. He grinned and pushed SEND.

~*~

Hayley slowed the minivan as they neared the approach to the Yellowhead Highway. Light traffic, clear blue skies, and a divided highway awaited her. Nothing to worry about. She willed her shoulders to relax and switched on the right-turn signal.

“Doin’ fine, missy.” Franklin’s gravelly voice reassured her. “You’ve got this.”

“And God’s got me. Right.” The first time she’d driven this route, it had seemed terribly long. Today, it was too short. Her entire back tensed as vehicles raced by them, some swerving in and out of her lane.

A large box van pulled right in front of her. Hayley stomped on the brake. Franklin lurched forward, and Laureen gasped from the back seat. Hayley glanced in the rear view mirror. Traffic sped toward them. She pressed the accelerator and regained speed as a semi-trailer unit swung around them. “I’m so sorry. I thought that guy was going to hit us.” She looked in the mirror at Laureen. “Are you all right?”

“We’re fine.”

But Laureen looked paler than usual. Hayley gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. The dashboard clock read one-thirty. Plenty of time to deliver both to their appointments, as long as she didn’t cause any accidents. Please, Jesus, I need You.

The Yellowhead merged into Idylwyld Drive, and the four-lane road narrowed. More traffic, too many pedestrians, and stoplights at nearly every intersection.

Hayley’s neck muscles began to ache as she tried to keep track of everything. “Which way?”

“You want the easy way or the faster way?”

“Easy.”

“Figured as much.” He chuckled. “Stay on Idylwyld to 25th Street, take a left, and follow it to the university gates. No problem.”

A few minutes later, Hayley parked the car in front of the hospital, and Franklin opened his door.

“I know my way from here, and you need to get my wife to her appointment. I’ll call you when I’m ready to go.”

Franklin slid open the back door and leaned in. He cupped Laureen’s wrinkled cheek, kissed her on the forehead and then settled on her lips. “See you later, sweetheart.”

Hayley melted a little; she blinked rapidly to clear her vision.

Laureen moved to the front passenger seat and Hayley drove back into the traffic on 25th. One delivered, one to go. At the first red light, Hayley glanced at Laureen. “Should I go back the way I came, or is there an easier way?”

“Probably best to stay on this street to Idylwyld.” Laureen patted Hayley’s arm. “You’re doing great. I’m proud of you.”

Her warm voice settled into Hayley’s soul. Maybe she could drive without fear. A horn blared behind her, and Hayley jumped. How long had the light been green? Heat rushed to her face as she accelerated. “Sorry.”

“Just relax, dear. You’re doing fine.” Laureen sounded a lot more confident than Hayley felt.

She followed Laureen’s calm directions and maneuvered the minivan between merging vehicles onto 22nd Street West.

“Good girl. After a few blocks, you’ll want to get into the left lane. Avenue H is coming up, and we need to turn south there. The hospital is just down the road a few blocks.”

Hayley turned onto the two-lane road and cringed. Vehicles were parked on both sides of the narrow road, making the minivan feel like a bus. She slowed, her jaw tight, and the minivan crept to their destination. Hayley parked in the loading area and slumped against the seat back.

“You did it.” Laureen’s smile eased some of Hayley’s tension. The older woman’s lack of color increased it again.

“Let me help you inside, OK?”

Laureen sighed. “Yes, please. I’m pretty woozy today. Guess this is a good day for my dizzy test.” She leaned her head against the seat back. “In fact, maybe you should find a wheelchair. Should be some just inside the door.”

Moments later, Laureen sat in a wheelchair and was about to be whisked away by a plump, friendly volunteer. “Don’t worry, miss, we’ll take good care of your mother.”

Hayley opened her mouth to correct the woman, but Laureen caught her attention with a wink. Hayley smiled wistfully. “Thank you.”

Laureen held up her free hand. “I’ll call you when I’m ready, but don’t cut your time with Trevor short. I can wait.” She blew Hayley a kiss. “And don’t worry. God’s got this too.”

Hayley swiped her sleeve across her eyes as she returned to the minivan. Now she was on her own. She paused with the door open. No, that wasn’t right. Her heavenly Father was with her. Watching over her, taking care of her.

“You’ve got this, and God’s got you.” Franklin’s words echoed in her heart.

Yes, she could do this. Hayley studied Trevor’s simple directions and then fastened her seatbelt.

Trevor promised he’d make time for her, no matter how busy he was. Well, she would brave city traffic for him, no matter how nervous she felt.

If that wasn’t love, what was?

~*~

Ryan was warbling that silly love song again.

Trevor grabbed his chiming phone and scowled at Ryan. “Don’t.”

Several of the guys joined in with Ryan’s singing.

Trevor shook his head, strode into the washroom, and shut the door against their good-natured teasing.

“On my way, leaving St. Paul’s now.” Her text was brief.

He couldn’t wait to see her. Hold her. Kiss her. His woman. He addressed his reflection in the grimy mirror. “Calm down, man, it’s just coffee. With the most gorgeous woman in the world, but still, just coffee in a public place.”

It would take about fifteen minutes for Hayley to get there from St. Paul’s Hospital, enough time to clean up and do some restocking. Business had been brisk, leaving little time to replace items sold. As he scrubbed his nails, Trevor considered his change of heart. Two weeks ago, he couldn’t wait to leave, go to Toronto, and try to make a name for himself. Be a big shot in a big city. He cringed. Thank You, Jesus, for saving me from myself.

It was all God: Hayley’s entrance into his life, Carlos and Max convincing him God loved him, and Nate Smith’s warning to stay away from Lowrider. He hadn’t heard anything in the news about the Toronto bike shop. Even if Smith had misled him for some reason, Trevor couldn’t regret his decision. He was in the place he belonged.

Trevor checked the showroom displays, took note of missing items, and retrieved them from the storeroom. As he placed a large-sized helmet on the shelf, movement outside caught his eye. The back of his neck prickled. He glanced out the window.

A middle-aged man in baggy jeans, a bulky plaid jacket, and a ball cap glared back. The man made an obscene gesture, then turned and jogged across the street.

Chills raced up and down Trevor’s spine, followed by intense heat. His jaw clenched, and his pulse pounded in his ears. He could never forget that face.

Larry Kirby.