17

The crème brulées were just about done. Cassidy prepared to take the water baths out of the oven so the custards could finish cooling and setting. Then they would have several hours to chill before dinner.

Checking the clock, she realized she had just enough time to pull them out and then to whip the dressing for the salad before luncheon.

Mrs. Johnson strode into the kitchen. “Cassidy, those custards look lovely.”

She couldn’t help smiling under the praise. “Thank you, Mrs. Johnson.”

“I wanted to speak to you a bit before lunch.”

“Yes, ma’am?” The rest of the kitchen staff might have been afraid of the head cook starting off with that statement, but Cassidy had gotten to know the woman little by little.

“First, I think you probably need to have a conversation with Thomas soon.”

“Oh? About what?”

“I’m pretty sure the poor lad has a crush on you. And the sooner you nip it in the bud, the easier it will be for him to recover.”

That was unexpected. Cassidy blinked. “I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t. Which makes you even more likeable. But you should be aware, half the male staff has a crush on you, my dear. And with you smiling and encouraging and laughing with everyone, they all probably think they have a chance to win your heart.” Mrs. Johnson looked at her. “That doesn’t mean you’ve done anything wrong. It just means your sunny personality is attractive.”

“Oh.”

“And I’m thinking that you’re okay with the thought of one Mr. Allan Brennan being one of your admirers?” She tossed some flour onto the worktable and went to work on her roll of dough.

Cassidy bit her lip. Was she okay with that? She liked Allan very much. But there was still so much he needed to resolve. “Allan is a very nice man.”

Mrs. Johnson laughed out loud, which was a rare occurrence. “Oh, Cassidy Faith, you do beat all.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure I do.” She tried her best not to smile.

The head cook took a pinch of flour and blew it toward Cassidy’s face. “And you’re ornery too.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She wiped the flour off her face and continued whipping the dressing. “I’m sure I have learned that from the very best.”

“If you are insinuating that I have taught you to be ornery . . . well . . . I really don’t have any room to talk, now do I?” Mrs. Johnson winked at her and folded the dough in thirds. “I have to admit that I wanted to speak with you on another matter.” Her voice lowered in volume.

“Yes?”

Mrs. Johnson’s expression took on a look of discomfort and her mouth tightened. Whatever it was she wanted to say it wouldn’t come easily. Cassidy wondered if she should say something to ease the tension, but it seemed waiting for the older to woman to speak was best. Finally the words came.

“How did you not lose faith yesterday?”

“What do you mean?” Cassidy’s heart skipped a beat. Mrs. Johnson was actually initiating a conversation about God and she didn’t want to do anything to discourage her.

“Last night, when your father was found injured. We spent hours together sitting on that floor waiting for news. And even though you were devastated and crying, you kept talking to God like He was right there. You never lost hope.”

Cassidy stopped the whisking. She wiped her hands on her apron and prayed for wisdom. “I didn’t lose hope, Mrs. Johnson, because my hope is in the Lord. No matter what might happen. But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t worry about losing my father. I was almost sick with worry over him—wondering what would happen if I lost him. I was a newborn when my mother died, so although the hurt of losing her is quite real, I never knew her. But with my dad, it’s hard to imagine my life without him. That was a hurt unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

“And when you said I talked to God like He was right there—well, that’s because He was. And still is. I didn’t realize I’d been praying out loud, but I do that a lot, so I’m not surprised.”

Mrs. Johnson didn’t look at her but pinched off pieces of dough to be shaped. “And you believe that He hears you? And wants to hear from you?”

“All the time. Yes, ma’am.”

“The way you view God is so very different than anything I’ve ever known.”

Cassidy smiled. “My relationship with God is unlike anything else I’ve ever known.”

Mrs. Johnson nodded. “I’m not saying I’m ready to buy into what you believe, but I do know that I admire you for how you handled the situation. And . . . if I’m honest, I have to admit that I often want what you have. The light that shines out of you all the time. It’s refreshing. And makes me want it too.”

Cassidy smiled at her boss. It was a step in the right direction, and she praised the Lord in her heart for that.

The intimacy of the moment was obviously a little too overwhelming for the older woman. She hurried to the counter on the opposite side of the room. “Now, let me get a tray fixed for you and your father. I want you to take at least an hour to spend with him.” She held up a hand before Cassidy could even respond. “No arguments. It’s an order.”

The group of tourists who requested a hike up Deadhorse Hill were likely to be Allan’s undoing. Women with inappropriate footwear, men with bellies too stout to balance on the side of a hill, and then there were the three boys. Their parents were part of the group, but Allan couldn’t say who they actually belonged to, since the adults seemed too preoccupied with their blathering conversations about this and that.

In fact, Allan wondered if there was a lick of sense found among the whole group.

Thomas led the way up the hill, since the three youngsters had way more energy than the adults in the group, and Allan wanted to be prepared to catch whoever would fall next. He hated giving such a huge responsibility to Thomas, but the lad seemed excited to take on a challenge.

And a challenge it was. The boys ranged in age from eleven to fifteen—or so he’d been told—but frankly, they acted like five-year-olds. Pushing, shoving, tripping each other. And covered in dirt. Each one of them from head to toe.

Allan just hoped that none of them had any brilliant ideas of jumping off cliffs.

“Mr. Brennan, did you say that we might see moose?” The stoutest man of them all stopped for a moment. Probably to catch his breath.

“It’s a strong possibility, sir, but with all the ruckus we’re making, I doubt the moose will venture anywhere near us.”

“Oh, well, that’s too bad. I hear they’re awfully cute and awkward-looking.” One of the ladies adjusted her parasol and huffed.

Allan knew he should bite his tongue, but he couldn’t contain it. “Actually, ma’am, it’s better if we don’t see them. They are very dangerous animals.”

“Well . . .” she huffed again. “That’s not what I’ve heard.” She strutted up the hill, wobbling on her silly shoes.

How did John do this? Day in and day out. The man had the patience of a saint. Of course, what was he thinking? John was a saint. The man’s forgiving spirit and patient endurance was a credit to him. He saw the good in everyone—at least if there was good to be found. Apparently there hadn’t been much of that when it came to Frank Irving. Allan had been so blinded by his sense of injustice and need to blame someone that he’d very nearly missed the deception and underhanded actions of his father’s former partner.

Whoops and hollers echoed down from above and brought Allan’s attention back to the distasteful task at hand.

While the other adults seemed content to meander their way up the hill, Allan began to worry about Thomas and those boys. And what they could get into.

“If you all believe that you are doing all right, I’d like to check on the youngsters, so I’ll go on ahead.”

“Oh, please do. That Billy of mine can be quite a prankster.” Another of the ladies plopped down in the grass. “And I’m quite worn out already and these mosquitoes are pesky and annoying.”

Great. A prankster.

With nods and murmurs from the rest of the group, Allan headed up at a faster clip. While the fresh air invigorated him, the steepness of the trail made it slower going than he’d hoped.

The last twenty yards or so, Allan heard voices.

“Come on, Thomas! Don’t you want to try it? Everybody else is . . .” one of the boys’ voices squeaked.

“No, and neither should you.” Thomas sounded so much older than before.

“It ain’t hurtin’ nobody. Don’t be such a killjoy.”

“Hand ’em over, Billy.”

Allan was impressed. When push came to shove, it looked like Thomas was made of sterner stuff than he’d given him credit for. Creeping up the hill, he listened and tried not to be noticed.

“No way! My parents gave ’em to me.”

“That’s a bunch of baloney and you know it.” Thomas’s voice deepened even more, but his tone was even. “I will speak to them about this as soon as they get here.”

The younger boys all seemed to be laughing.

“They won’t make it up here. They just want to pretend to be adventurous. Besides, why would they listen to you? You’re nothing but the help—a worker. They’d never believe you over their own son. And it’s three against one.”

“Come on, fellas, we need to smoke these while we have the chance.” Billy seemed to be the ringleader. He pulled a matchbook out of his pocket and lit his cigarette. He puffed and didn’t even choke on it.

The other two clambered forward and lit matches and then their cigarettes.

Thomas walked in the other direction. What was he doing? After standing up to them, now he was just going to walk away?

Allan waited and watched.

Then the coughing began. First, the shortest kid, then Billy. He actually looked a little green now. Then the last one succumbed to a coughing fit and dropped his smoke.

Before they knew what was happening, the grass was on fire as well as Billy’s pant leg. The boys all started screaming like little girls.

“I’m on fire! Do something!” Billy looked toward Thomas.

Allan jumped up but saw Thomas racing toward them. He reached the boys and dumped water from his hat and an entire canteen onto the small fire, effectively quenching it.

So that’s where he’d gone. To the creek. To fill the canteen and his hat with water.

That moment was as good as any for him to appear, so Allan walked the rest of the way to the boys. The three troublemakers looked up at him with fear in their eyes.

“How’s your leg, Billy? Did it get burned?”

“A little, sir.” A single tear slipped down his cheek. “So . . . you saw?”

“Yup. I sure did.” Allan checked the boy’s leg. The hair was singed, but no other damage except to his pants. He held out his hand. “I’ll take the rest of those cigarettes and matches.”

“Aw, man. You and your stupid ideas, Billy.” The older of the two boys kicked the dirt.

Once he had checked all their pockets, Allan gave them a speech about fire safety, especially in the wilderness, and told them to sit right where they were until the adults joined them. Then he told them if they moved, he’d tell their parents everything.

Surprisingly, the threat worked.

Allan turned to Thomas. “I’m proud of you. That was awfully brave standing up to them.”

“It was the right thing to do.”

“And when you walked away?”

“My plan was to just dump water over their heads to teach them a lesson. I didn’t know they’d be dumb enough to catch themselves on fire.”

He slapped the young man on the back while he laughed. “You did good, Thomas.”

“Thank you, sir.” He straightened his shoulders and stood even taller. “I don’t know if I would have before I learned about Daniel.”

“Daniel?”

“You know, from the Bible? Cassidy told me about him a while back. So then I asked Mr. Ivanoff about him, and we’ve been studying together, since he can’t do much else. Cassidy inspired me when she said she wanted to be like Daniel.” Thomas puffed his chest out. “I want to be like Daniel too.” He walked away and stood over the boys.

A tinge of jealousy sparked through Allan. The seventeen-year-old had bested him. He wondered if maybe John had space in his Bible study to include a rather wayward twenty-eight-year-old.