What was she doing? Rebecca jiggled her wallet. On the one hand, she had to eat. There wasn’t anything intrinsically wrong with the sub shop next door, though the staff ate there so often it was usually a last resort. On the other hand...this was Ben. The longer she was around him, the harder it was to stay silent. He suspected. Or he had. He hadn’t said anything today, and had seemed to accept her dodge the first time he asked. So maybe her brush off had worked. Her stomach sank. That’s what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? But if he didn’t suspect, why had he asked her to lunch? He couldn’t possibly have trouble finding a date, why would he hit on his physical therapist?

This was ridiculous. She’d go out there and tell him she changed her mind. Then she’d go get lunch...somewhere else. Anywhere else. She took a deep breath and strode into the lobby. Ben smiled.

“Ready?”

Rebecca shook her head. “Actually...”

His smile faltered. “It’s just lunch.”

She squeezed the wrist strap of her wallet. Her stomach growled.

“I heard that. You can’t say you’re not hungry now.”

The excuse died on her lips and she checked her watch. “All right. You’re right. I’ve got thirty minutes. You get twenty of them.”

“I’ll take it.” Ben jerked his head toward the door. “Can we walk together or do we need to meet over there accidentally?”

She pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. “We can walk over together. I’ll even sit at your table.”

He chuckled and picked his way across the room, hitting the door assist button. “After you.”

“I see chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

“Not since they started putting these accessibility buttons on the doors. Though having crutches helps, too. No one’s going to get angry at me for hitting the button when it’s obvious I need it myself. We’ll see if that trend continues once I’m rid of them or if I end up being accused of benevolent sexism again.”

Rebecca snorted out a laugh. “Benevolent sexism?”

“That’s what one lady called it. She was really angry with me. I guess I was supposed to let her fumble around with the door when her hands were full of bags and she was trying to hold on to a toddler as well as her dog’s leash.” Ben shrugged. “I can’t seem to help myself.”

He hadn’t been able to in college either. Several of the girls at camp had remarked on it, though they’d all considered it sweet, if a bit old fashioned. It had made Rebecca feel special. Still did. “Don’t change. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the broad majority of humans, regardless of gender, appreciate a show of respect. And if they don’t, well. Phooey on ‘em.”

“Phooey. Strong words, there, Ms. Fischer.”

Rebecca pulled open the door to the sub shop. “Sadly there’s no button here, and, as I have a vested interest in you not reinjuring yourself, I hope you’ll allow me?”

Ben crutched through the door. “I’ll even say thank you.”

She followed behind him, lips pursed. He was still babying his knee. “You should be putting a bit more weight on that leg when you walk.”

He stopped and frowned over his shoulder. “I don’t want to reinjure it.”

“Nobody wants that. But it’s not going to get stronger if it never gets used. The crutches are there to keep your full weight off, not all of it. If it hurts, back off some, but try to start using it.” Rebecca offered a bright smile in return for the glare he shot her. But the next few steps he took looked better. Should she offer to carry his food for him?

Ben stood at the counter directing the creation of an enormous sandwich. He couldn’t possibly eat like this all the time unless he was one of those annoying people whose metabolisms hadn’t changed since they were twelve. As soon as the thought occurred, she got a flash of him in line at camp, his tray piled high. “Ugh. You probably haven’t gained an ounce since college, have you?”

He laughed. “One of my roommates has started getting into sustainable eating, thanks to his new girlfriend. It’s not horrible, but sometimes all the vegetables leave me craving processed deli meat and cheese slices that are closer to plastic than actual dairy products.”

Rebecca wrinkled her nose. “You actually crave this stuff? I consider it make-do food.”

“There’s only so much ‘healthy’ a person can handle, you know?” Ben shuffled down toward the cash register.

She walked the clerk through a bare-bones vegetarian sandwich and moved to pay. “I don’t think most normal people know that, actually. Most of us are just trying to keep from becoming part of the obesity epidemic.”

Ben scoffed. “You buy that?”

She paid for her sandwich and combined his food with hers before she picked up the tray holding both of their subs. “You don’t?”

“I’m not sure. Obviously, if you look around, you can see that there are people in America who could stand to lose some weight. But if you keep your eyes open, you’ll see there are people right here without enough to eat as well.”

That was true, though it was surprising he realized it. “Don’t you work in international hunger relief?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to the situation closer to home though. In fact, we’re trying to put together a project with one of the homeless missions downtown.” He named one of the Christian organizations in the city and continued. “They do a lot for families that aren’t homeless but who have trouble providing enough food for their families on a daily basis. Hunger isn’t just a problem for third-world countries.”

“I volunteer down there—no one’s said anything about a joint project.”

“We’re in the early stages yet. Honestly, I probably shouldn’t even have mentioned it.” Ben angled his head. “Can we say grace?”

Rebecca lifted her brows. As far as he knew, he barely knew her, yet he wanted to pray before their meal? Definite bonus points. She nodded.

Ben said a quick prayer for the food and their time together before grabbing his sandwich and taking a huge bite.

She pulled her small sub into two pieces, wrapped up half and nibbled on the corner of the other.

“You’re only eating half? Of a half?”

Rebecca sighed. “I quit running a few years ago. It’s a long story, but the end result is that I don’t have the regular exercise that I used to love. I still work out, but going to the gym or taking a walk isn’t the same. Thus a closer eye on my diet. I’m scheduled at the mission tonight, as it happens, and their dinners are hearty and delicious. Most days I help out downtown, I try to skip lunch.”

“That seems rather poorly thought out for someone in healthcare.”

“Maybe.” Not that it was any of his business. Time to turn this conversation around. “Have you been off work since your injury?”

“Nah. They gave me a laptop. I can do most of my job as long as I have the Internet and a phone. I’m getting so spoiled working at home, it’s going to be tough to get back to the office full-time.” He set down his sandwich and took a long pull on his soda. “Any idea when that might be?”

“It’s really up to your surgeon. Typically it’s at least two weeks before you’re comfortable off crutches and able to drive. There’s a little wiggle room, depending on how your PT progresses.”

Ben nodded. “That’s about what I figured...This is going to sound crazy, but I can’t stop wondering so I’m just going to ask: have you ever gone by the name ‘Marie’?”

Her heart jumped into her throat. Rebecca finished chewing the bite in her mouth, swallowing despite the sudden metallic taste that pervaded everything. He recognized her. Not only that, he remembered her. Was it possible he thought about her as often as she thought about him? But even if he did, what was she supposed to say? She managed a weak smile. “It’s my middle name.”

“You disappeared. Just...poof. I sent you letters through the camp office, ‘til they asked me to stop. What happened?” Ben flipped the paper over the remainder of his sandwich and pushed it away.

Rebecca’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. She’d only gotten one letter. By the time she decided to go ahead and answer it, she hadn’t been able to find it. He deserved the truth. Could she afford to give it to him? “That’s another long story. I’m sorry I never wrote you.”

He looked across the table at her, saying nothing.

She wasn’t going to say any more. It was too much to get into right now...she needed to figure out how much she was going to tell him. Wasn’t it enough, for now, that he’d connected her to Marie? Did he have to know all the details of her quest to separate herself from her family and the stigma her father had wrapped her in? Even if Dad hadn’t meant to, he’d turned her life into a nightmare. Being Marie for a summer had shown her that it was possible to have a normal life.

“All right. Well. I guess I should let you get back to work.” Ben stood, wobbling until he arranged his crutches correctly. He made it two steps from the table before he turned and held her gaze. “I fell in love with you that summer...and I’ve never really recovered.”

Rebecca swallowed, tears burning the back of her eyes as he made his way to the street. She stopped herself from calling out or following him. She’d fallen for him, too. But when you were living a lie, regardless of the reasons behind it, you didn’t deserve a good man. She’d expected him to move on. His words echoed in her head. He wasn’t the only one who’d never recovered.

“Hey, Rebecca, come meet a new volunteer.”

Rebecca stuffed her bag into a locker and closed it. She snapped on a combination lock and moved across the room to where Jerry Christensen stood next to a slender girl, probably in her late teens. “Hi. I’m Rebecca.”

“Kira, nice to meet you.”

Jerry grinned, hands in his pockets. “Kira’s a college student, but she’s taking a semester off. Rather than loafing around, she decided she’d like to volunteer here as much as she can.”

“That’s wonderful. I know it’s often hard to find folks to lend a hand during the day. Most of us are after-work and weekends, but the people here need help all the time. Speaking of which...” Rebecca glanced toward the door. “I’ve got a handful of kids waiting on me to help them with their algebra.”

“I was wondering if you’d mind having Kira shadow you? She’s studying creative writing, so she could help with English homework.”

Kira offered a soft smile. “Or whatever. I’ve got a pretty good memory and have always enjoyed school. I even like algebra.”

“You’re hired.” Rebecca grinned. “I don’t mind math, but I don’t think I’d ever go so far as to say I like it. Come on, the kids are great.” Why was Kira taking a semester off if she liked school?

With Kira trailing in her wake, Rebecca strode down the hall to the room designated for quiet activities like reading and homework. Eight kids sat at a conference table. Some hunched over books, scribbling intently, others flipped pages, and yet others reclined, eyes closed and earbuds firmly embedded.

Rebecca knocked on the table to get everyone’s attention. When they all looked up and removed at least one earbud, she gestured to Kira. “Everyone, this is Kira. Kira, the kids.”

Groans chased around the table. A prim, well-dressed girl straightened in her seat. “We’re not kids, Ms. Rebecca. We’re in high school.”

Rebecca laughed. “Fair enough, Latoya. I stand corrected. Regardless, Kira’s going to help tonight, too.”

A young man jerked his chin. “What she good at?”

“I’m studying creative writing in school.” Kira pulled out an empty chair and sort of collapsed into it.

“Tha’s cool. I’m wit’ her, she can help on that dumb poem we have to write for math.”

“You have to write a poem for math?” Rebecca sat between two of the kids who were busily working on their homework. “Why?”

The boy shrugged. “Mr. Wilson said it was something about finding new ways to remember sh—stuff.”

Rebecca shot him a pointed look.

He held up his hands. “Hey. I caught it. I should at least get credit for that.”

“All right, I’ll only charge you half.”

The boy frowned but stood and jammed his hands into his pockets. He tossed a nickel across the table to Rebecca and dropped back into his chair. “I ain’t never gonna win nuthin.”

“Who’d want to win nothing?”

Rebecca bit back a snicker at Kira’s response. If the girl wanted to explain double negatives to D’Andre, more power to her. She watched as Kira coaxed the poetry assignment from the boy and they began to discuss their options.

“Ms. Rebecca?”

She turned at the quiet voice by her elbow. “Yes, Tina?”

“Mr. Jerry asked if you’d come back to the office? I can help out here.”

Everything looked like it was under control. Not that it hadn’t been before she appeared. By and large, these were good kids. They didn’t need her. Not really. But it felt good to be here. It wasn’t saving the world, but maybe she could make a little difference here or there.

Rebecca stood, leaving her chair out for Tina, and went back to Jerry’s office. She tapped on the door frame. “Tina said you wanted to see me?”

“Yeah. Come on in and shut the door, would you?”

She pushed the door closed before sitting in the chair facing Jerry’s desk. “Everything okay?”

He nodded. “Mostly. First, I thought I’d give you the background on Kira...I don’t think she’d want it getting out too much, but since I’m hoping you’ll keep an eye on her, it’s good if you know.”

Rebecca cocked her head. “Sure. She seemed to connect pretty well to D’Andre. If she can get through to him, she’ll be fine. She wants to hang out with the tutoring crowd?”

“She needs something that will let her sit. She has leukemia. That’s why she’s taking time off school and,” he paused, swallowed, “the treatment isn’t going well. We’re not sure how long she’ll be able to stay out of the hospital. She wanted to do something to make a difference in the meantime.”

“You know her.” It wasn’t unusual for friends and family to pitch in around here, so why did it rub her the wrong way? Was it because he hadn’t introduced her that way? Was she really that easily annoyed?

“She’s my goddaughter. Her mother was Meredith’s roommate in college. Our families have been close since the beginning.” His voice caught. He took a sip from the large mason jar of water he kept on his desk and cleared his throat. “Anyway. If you can help keep an eye on her, keep her from overdoing, I’d appreciate it. She has such a heart for God, I don’t want to deny her any chance to use it.”

Rebecca nodded, her heart aching. Why did things like this happen to people so young? All the “right” answers flitted through her head, but they didn’t make her feel any better. “Was that it?”

“One more thing.” His gaze flicked over her shoulder. She turned to look. Nothing but a closed door. “I know you like to keep your monetary involvement quiet.”

Rebecca’s brows shot up. “You know about that?”

Jerry held up a hand. “Don’t get irritated. I pieced it together. I don’t think anyone else has, or will. Few people have access to all the information that would allow the dots to connect. But since you are our biggest donor, by far, I thought I’d ask if you were interested in being part of a collaboration that Bread of Heaven has approached us about?”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “Depends, I guess.”

“On?”

Rebecca blew out a breath. “If you pieced together that I’m a donor, then I suspect you’ve also figured out who my parents are?”

Jerry gave a brief nod.

“I’d like to keep that part quiet. I enjoy being Rebecca Fischer, that’s why I changed my name legally. It’s not like it’d be hard for someone to do a little digging and figure it out, but so far the media hasn’t felt like bothering. I’m content for them to speculate on the whereabouts and shenanigans of Becky MacDonald.”

He leaned back in his chair, a smile at the corner of his lips. “I can’t imagine that would be a problem. How much is made up?”

Rebecca shook her head, shoulder slumping. “With the exception of forging a note to get my ears pierced when I was eleven and I did sneak out of the house once in high school, all of it.”

Jerry grimaced.

“So you understand why I’m happy enough to leave her behind.”

“I do. As it’s the truth, it’s easy enough to say you’re the most faithful of our volunteers and that’s why I’ve asked you to be part of the project. We’ll leave it at that. I can’t imagine it being an issue, but if it becomes one, we can address it then. Sound good?”

“Yeah.”

Jerry pushed a fat folder across his desk. “Here’s the initial information we have. The board’s basically given the okay and then stepped back for me to take care of it. I was hoping someone would step up and spearhead the thing but so far, no luck.”

“No one?” She pulled the folder into her lap and flipped it open. The cover letter had Ben’s information at the top and his bold scrawl across the bottom. Her stomach clenched. Of course he was involved. He’d even mentioned it this afternoon. Why had she said yes before her brain kicked in?

“Nope. So if you’re on board, I’m going to make you primary. I’ll help out as needed, but my hands are full enough with all the day-to-day stuff around here. As much as I’d love to see this project take off, I just don’t have the ability to handle it personally.”

“Can I pray about it?” Maybe God would make it clear that she didn’t have to do it. Certainly spending even more time with Ben was a bad idea. Wasn’t it? Or was this God’s way of telling her that she and Ben had some kind of future together after all these years?

Jerry frowned. “Of course. But...if you can’t, or won’t, take it on, we’ll probably have to let them know that we’re not able to work with them.”

Lead settled in her gut. No pressure there. Rebecca took a deep breath. “All right. Let me take the folder home, read through it, pray about it, and I’ll let you know tomorrow.”