Cassidy might’ve downplayed her injuries a little too much. As afternoon turned to evening, her hip throbbed and her shoulder ached. She hadn’t been thinking straight after her fall. She’d been discombobulated at the sight of James rushing to her aid. More than that, at the nickname, Cassy. James was the only person who’d ever called her that, and only after they’d started dating, kissing, falling in love.
Those old feelings had never gone far, and his tenderness had pulled them to the surface.
If this were a romance novel, now would be the time for her to remind herself of all the reasons she couldn’t be with him. Buried secrets, a distrust of men, a desire not to get attached.
None of those defined Cassidy. She’d learned to trust good men. Having lived most of her life separate and alone, she desired attachment more than the average person. And, God willing, as much as it terrified her, her secrets would all be revealed when they found Ella.
In any possible romantic scenario between Cassidy and James—if he had any feelings for her at all—there was just one reason, one giant reason, they couldn’t be together: her part in his sister’s death.
If he could forgive her, if they could move past it…
Two giant ifs.
Giant enough that she tried not to hope. The problem was, hope had saved her and guided her and fueled her for a decade. She could no more tamp it down than she could darken the sun.
The God of Hope—that was the first name for her Lord that she’d latched onto. And she wouldn’t let it go for fear she might get hurt. After all, He was the God of all Comfort, too, wasn’t He? He could handle her hope and her heartbreak. He could handle it all.
As they climbed the narrow trail, hope and pain were in a battle. Hope that they’d find Ella.
Pain begging her to quit.
Another feeling pulled her attention, though. Fear.
Ever since that noise earlier, she’d couldn’t shake the feeling that somebody was watching them. She’d brought it up once, and James had stopped and peered around. She’d expected him to brush her off or offer empty promises that they were safe, but he hadn’t.
“It was probably an animal. But…”
The but was the part that scared her.
There was nothing to do but continue the trek. The exertion kept them from talking. Every so often, James would ask if the surroundings looked familiar. Not yet, though she felt they were moving in the right direction. She didn’t know why, couldn’t have identified the things that gave her that impression. God, perhaps? Or some instinct or long-buried memory? But what had felt futile after her fall no longer did. They’d find the cave, as long as they didn’t quit.
She couldn’t speak for James, but nothing short of death or serious injury would stop her. She’d overcome a lot of risk to get to this place, all to save Ella, to stop the kidnapper from destroying more lives. She’d keep at it until Ella was safe in her father’s arms.
Meanwhile, though, here she was, on this mountain she’d sworn she’d never return to. As she gazed around at the wilderness, it was hard to imagine that she’d ever had a different life. Seattle seemed a world away from this secluded place, the counseling center where she worked almost like a different dimension. That dingy basement space with its plastic, straight-backed chairs, the water-ringed wooden table covered with coffee and soda and snacks the girls devoured as if they hadn’t eaten in months. They’d sip their drinks and munch their store-bought cookies and tell stories that didn’t belong there, didn’t belong anywhere, stories of abuse so bad at home that life on the street was better. At least on the street, it wasn’t fathers and brothers and mothers and sisters who did the abusing. And then there were the other stories, the girls who’d left home chasing drugs or guys or freedom, absolutely confident that what they found in the world would be better than what they had at home. They were the hardest to reach. They were the ones who had to admit that they’d been wrong, not wronged.
All the girls were unique, all wounded, all special. And all of them needed somebody to hold their hands and tell them that they mattered, that they were okay. All of them needed somebody to help them find their way home. Often, home wasn’t where they’d come from, but it could always be where they were headed.
Cassidy had found her new home in Seattle. She’d found her place to belong in the family of God. It was her life’s goal to help others find Him, find home as well.
Now, that home felt as elusive as the place they were searching for on this mountain. It was as if that counseling center back in Seattle no longer existed. Or maybe it never had. Maybe the little room she rented was a figment of her imagination. She smiled at that thought. If she were going to conjure a place in her mind’s eye, it would be nicer than the dingy studio apartment where she’d lived since college.
But it wouldn’t be on a mountainside. Nope, this rugged wilderness world was not for her. She followed James through areas so thick with undergrowth that they’d hardly been able to forge a path. As they climbed higher, the trees were sparser, the undergrowth easier to avoid. The sun had long since fallen to the opposite side of the mountain, and the air was cooling. Not that she was cold. Trudging mostly uphill kept her warm enough.
Finally, James paused in a small, flat clearing. “Let’s camp here for the night.”
“Oh, thank God.” Only when he turned to her, concern etched in the lines on his forehead, did she realize she’d said the words aloud.
“You should have told me you needed to stop sooner.”
“I didn’t want to stop.” She took off the backpack for the first time in hours, enjoying the lightness, the cool air against her damp T-shirt. She sat on a fallen tree on the edge of the pine-needle carpet. “Before we started today, I thought I was in shape.”
He took off his own backpack and dug inside. “I’ll set up the tent.” He took out a blue silicone bag and laid it on the ground. “The Jetboil is in your backpack. Could you get it out?”
She had no idea what that was but opened her pack dutifully, figuring it would be obvious. She pulled out a black contraption that looked like an insulated cup mounted on top of a tiny propane tank. That had to be it.
“What am I making?”
“Open the bag”—he nodded at it from where he’d already begun unpacking the tent—“and pick whatever you want.”
She found instant noodles, rice, and oatmeal, not to mention tea bags and coffee. Also, bagged tuna fish, little squeeze-packets of mayonnaise, peanut butter, and single-serving jellies.
She knew there was another bag of food in his pack—he’d gotten the granola bars from it—and searched for it now, finding pita bread, nuts, dried fruit, and hummus.
“You brought the whole store,” she said.
“Bad habit. Even though I figure we’ll only be up here a night or two, I packed all the food I could fit.”
“I could have carried some.”
“There was no need.”
She boiled the water and, using collapsible silicone bowls she’d found in her pack, fixed the noodles. It would go well with the tuna, and they needed the protein and carbs. Plus, if they found Ella, when they found Ella, she could have the bars and peanut butter and jelly.
Before Cassidy finished preparing dinner, James had the tent up and his sleeping bag laid out on the ground beside it.
“Why are you getting that dirty?” she asked. “Doesn’t the sleeping bag go inside the tent?”
“You’ll sleep inside. I’ll sleep out.”
“Oh.”
“Seems… wiser, don’t you think?”
The unspoken suggestion that something might happen between them raised her heart rate. It meant he found her at least a little bit attractive. Her hope wasn’t futile.
“It’s your tent,” she said. “I should—”
“I like sleeping under the stars.”
She looked up and only saw the canopy of trees.
“You know what I mean.”
Not that she’d thought much about it, but all day she’d assumed he’d sleep by her side. It wasn’t as if they were together. They’d hardly touched since she’d first seen him Monday. She was pretty sure they could sleep in the same tent and keep their hands to themselves.
“It’s nothing against you.” He’d been watching her reaction. “The opposite, really.”
She wouldn’t think too much on that. “Hungry?”
“Starved.” He settled beside her and took the bowl she offered. “Climbing takes a lot out of you.”
She took a bite of the instant noodles. They were surprisingly good. “When was the last time you went backpacking?”
“I go all the time. How about you? You ever go hiking or camping?”
“The closest I’ve gotten to nature in a decade is the park near my apartment.”
His eyebrows hiked. “Don’t you miss it?”
How could she miss a place that visited her so often in nightmares?
When she didn’t answer, he asked, “Where do you live now?”
“Do you believe me, that I would never have kidnapped or harmed your sister? Do you really believe me?”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.
She waited, let the silence press the question.
When he said nothing, she shrugged. “I live far away.”
“You’re afraid to tell me?”
“I hope to return to that life when this is over. When I do, I’d like to not be looking over my shoulder all the time.”
“I don’t plan to turn you in.”
“You considered precisely that about forty-eight hours ago.”
“But I didn’t.” He ripped off a bit of pita bread and popped it in his mouth. When he’d swallowed, he said, “Can you tell me what you do, or is that top secret as well?”
“I work with at-risk youth, mostly runaway girls who’ve gotten caught up in drugs and prostitution.”
“Tough job.”
“I’m uniquely qualified.”
His eyebrows lifted, the question obvious.
“Just the runaway part,” she clarified. “Not drugs or prostitution. But I understand the temptation. I understand how easily somebody can be enticed into bad decisions. I understand why toss-away children are willing to risk everything and do anything to find a sense of belonging.”
“Toss-aways. Is that how you felt?”
“Most of my life. Even with foster families, it’s hard to feel like you belong. Until I met your family…”
Something flashed in his eyes, something dark. Goosebumps rose on her bare arms, and she dug in her backpack, happy to have something to focus on besides James.
Hands elbow-deep, she continued. “It was wonderful to know your family, a good family. I mean, I know I wasn’t a member, but I got to witness it, I got to enjoy it for a time. I’ve only ever known snatches of that feeling, but I’ve always longed for it. What I’ve learned, what I try to teach the kids I work with, is that we’re all welcome into the family of God. With God, there are no toss-aways.” She found the fleece sweatshirt James had packed for her and slipped it on, careful of her bruised shoulder. “When people are firm in their relationship with the Father, they’re not only secure in their place in the best family in the universe, but they’re in a position to find stragglers and pull them in.” She settled back on the ground.
“Do the kids listen to you?”
She started to lift her shoulders in a shrug, but a sharp pain had her holding the left one.
“You’re hurting.”
“Not too bad.”
But he was already digging in the pack for something. He found it—a medicine bottle—and handed her two pills. “Ibuprofen.”
“Good thinking.” She downed them, praying it would help. “I’ll work with a girl for months, some I’ve worked with for years. Many will laugh at me, scoff at me, call me a liar, swear at me, tell me they hate me. Some’ll disappear and never return. But most come back. They’re afraid to believe what I say, but they need somebody in their lives to tell them they matter, they belong. I try to be that person. So… does it work? God works. I do my part. The results are up to Him.”
“Healthy attitude.”
“Years of practice.”
He grabbed a handful of nuts. “Want some?”
“You don’t happen to have any cookies in that pack.”
He found a chocolate bar and tossed it to her. “You always had a sweet tooth.”
“My hero.” She ripped the package and ate the first square.
“So, some girls listen, and some don’t,” he said. “Any success stories?”
“I’ve had a few kids reunite with their parents. A couple have finished high school and gone on to college. Any girl who stays off the streets is a success story in my book.”
“You’re a success story.” He held her gaze. “Look at all you’ve accomplished.”
She ate another square of chocolate, let it melt in her mouth before swallowing. “This town…” She wasn’t sure how to say what she needed to say. “Not this town. Your family taught me a new way. Your family taught me that I mattered, that I was valuable, that I could be trusted because I could be trustworthy. No matter how hard I tried to look tough and stand-offish, your mother saw right through me. She saw past the black lipstick and angry T-shirts. She saw me. My own mother…”
She didn’t finish the sentence, but James knew. Everybody knew about Cassidy’s mother.
“And your father,” she continued. “I’d had father figures ignore me, brush me off, yell at me. I had a foster father who came on to me when nobody was looking, tried to kiss me.”
James scowled at that.
“One of my mother’s boyfriends used to hurt me when I didn’t behave. He wasn’t as bad as Mom, but still… Your father treated me like a daughter. He treated me with respect and courtesy. He listened when I talked.”
“And you talked a lot,” James said, a smile lighting his eyes. “Man, sometimes I thought you’d never shut up.”
He was too far away to reach or else she’d smack him. Instead, she laughed. “Having people listen to me… You have no idea what a novelty it was. People who listened and responded and cared what I had to say. I’d rarely had that. And Hallie…” Her voice cracked.
“My sister adored you.”
“I adored her, too. I’d have done anything, anything…” She swiped the sudden tears away.
James looked up at the darkening sky. What was he thinking? She didn’t know this man the way she’d known the teenage boy. She’d loved that boy, loved his family, with everything in her.
“Anyway.” Cassidy worked for a casual tone. “Unlike a lot of the kids I work with, I’d seen how good it could be. I’d seen what a real family should look like, and I’d been introduced to the God who wanted everyone to feel that sense of belonging. Of… mattering. I’m a success story not because of anything I did but because… because of you.”