Kayla followed Noah down dimly lit stairs and through a narrow basement hallway to the church classroom hosting the foster-care classes. The musty air carried a chill, and goose bumps exploded on her skin. Purse draped over her shoulder, she rubbed warmth into her arms and scanned the faces seated behind rectangular tables.
She felt overdressed in her black slacks and coral blouse. Married couples, if she was guessing, occupied the room. Some young enough to be newlyweds, others with gray hair and wrinkles. A tall, swaybacked man with black hair and a full, neatly trimmed beard stood beside a desk to the left of a whiteboard.
He glanced up and smiled at Kayla and Noah. “Welcome. Have a seat wherever you’d like.” He motioned toward the empty tables near the front of the room.
She nodded a greeting, and Noah tipped his hat. “Howdy.” He touched her elbow, sending a jolt through her. “This look okay?” He indicated two empty seats beside a middle-aged couple.
“Sure.”
He pulled out her chair, and she sat behind one of numerous thick notebooks positioned on tables. She flipped through the pages, reading the labels on each divider tab. Child abuse and neglect. Child development issues. Bonding and attachment. Supporting normalcy.
Noah whistled and sat beside her. “It’s a lot, huh?”
She swallowed and nodded. Her gaze landed on one unsettling title written in bold on the page in front of her: Helping children deal with trauma.
Timber and Sophia hadn’t been traumatized, had they?
Noah placed his hand, warm and strong, on hers. “Hey.” He gave a gentle squeeze. “We’ll get through this. Together.”
Her heart tugged in his direction. Together. Her and Noah.
Except she didn’t plan on staying in Sage Creek that long. She’d created a life for herself, a thriving business, in the Pacific Northwest, and his life was here.
She needed to remind herself of that every time he tossed that gentle smile her way.
The man at the front cleared his throat. “Let’s get started.” He spoke with a bit of a northeastern accent. “I’m Kenneth Hall, and I’ve been a foster-care and permanency director for just shy of fifteen years.” He went on to explain his background, which included fostering over a dozen children and adopting three. “By the end of our sessions together, you’ll walk away with the tools to bring hope and healing to children who’ve experienced trauma and abandonment.”
His gaze scanned the room before briefly landing on Kayla. She shifted and focused on the notebook in front of her, feeling as if the shame of her sister’s behavior fell on her.
In a way, it did. As the older sister, surely she bore some responsibility for what had happened. For not knowing, for not being around long enough and often enough to know.
“Your turn.” Mr. Hall grinned at an older woman with orange-red hair and a heavily freckled complexion. “How about we go around the room, each of you sharing a bit about yourselves along with what brought you here tonight.”
The woman nodded. “I’m Michelle Jockon, and this is my husband, Bill.” She motioned to a balding man sitting beside her. “We have three grown children, whom we adore, empty bedrooms waiting to be filled and a whole lot of love to give to hurting children.”
Though a few were here to prayerfully explore whether or not they felt called to foster care, most everyone else offered similar introductions. They were married, most with children of their own, and looking to help.
“It’s just so sad.” A younger woman in a navy cardigan shook her head. “To think, the adults who are supposed to love these kids most are the very ones who cause the most pain.”
Then it was Kayla’s turn. Her mouth felt dry as she introduced herself. “I’m here to...” She sat taller. “To learn.”
Noah was next. He straightened and adjusted his Stetson. “I’m here because I’ve basically stepped into the Daddy role for my niece and nephew, and I need to learn to parent and everything related to that.”
“You two married?” the man at the adjacent table asked.
Kayla’s eyes widened. “What? No. He’s my—my—”
“Friend.” Noah’s deep voice soothed her.
After everyone introduced themselves, they watched a movie that told the story of three different children. One, an eight-year-old with a mentally ill biological mom, had special needs. Next, a teenager shared her journey to adoption after seven years in the foster-care system. She’d been through a lot, had acted out quite a bit, but eventually found a family that held tight to her and helped her heal. In the final testimony, they heard from an eleven-year-old who’d been reunited with his birth mom.
Mr. Hall clicked off the television. “We want to do everything we can to create safe, loving, healthy environments for kids. You all can play a huge part in that.”
An image arose unbidden, of her, Noah and the children sitting in a church pew. Little Sophia was sleeping in Kayla’s arms and Timber was flipping through his picture Bible.
“That’s all I have for tonight.” Mr. Hall’s voice jolted Kayla back to attention. “Any questions?”
There were a few. Then everyone gathered their things and migrated out the door.
Kayla stood on stiff legs and waited for Noah to finish a conversation with the red-haired lady.
Mr. Hall approached. “Thank you both for coming.”
Kayla nodded to him as Noah joined her.
“I hope you find our classes instructive.” He slipped a hand in his pocket. “But you should know, with kinship, you don’t have to go through the same licensing requirements.”
Noah hooked a thumb through his belt loop. “I was hoping I might learn a thing or two about corralling squirrelly two-year-olds.”
“Now, that’s a lofty aspiration.” Mr. Hall chuckled. “You might find the kinship-support group, hosted here on Thursday evenings, beneficial.”
Kayla’s heart lightened. “That sounds awesome.” She’d feel much more comfortable, and less ashamed, joining others who were experiencing similar situations. Those who were fighting an internal battle fueled by their love for the kids and their messed-up family members.
Noah scratched his bearded jaw. “Do you know of any similar get-togethers closer to Sage Creek?”
Mr. Hall shook his head. “Sorry.”
“I’ll have to think on this some. See how many nights I can head this way each week.” Noah picked up his notebook.
Kayla grabbed her purse from the back of her chair and draped it over her shoulder. “I feel like I need all the help and wisdom I can get.”
That would mean spending a two-hour-round-trip drive twice weekly with Noah Williams.
An idea she found much too appealing, considering she’d be heading back to Washington soon enough.
Potentially with the kids. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be so friendly and charming then.
“You hungry?” Noah opened the church door for Kayla then followed her outside and into his truck.
“A little.”
“I know a mean taco stand not far from here.” He turned on the engine and his cab quickly filled with the twang of an acoustic guitar. He lowered the radio volume and eased onto the street.
“I’m game if you are.”
He grinned as he drove through a residential area and back toward I-45. “So what’d you think?”
“Of the class, you mean?”
He nodded.
“I don’t know. It was hard to see the stories of those children and hear all the things the other couples said. I guess I’m still processing it all, you know?”
“I get it.”
After a couple of right turns, he parked along the curb a few blocks from Moody Park.
Kayla glanced around. “How do you know Houston so well?”
“Not sure that’s the case so much as I know where to find cheap eats. Leftover skill from my rodeo days.” He got out, intending to open her door for her, but she beat him to it and met him on the curb.
She hugged her torso. “You sure this area isn’t sketchy?”
He followed her gaze toward a heavily shadowed auto-body shop sandwiched by a handful of other equally dilapidated businesses with darkened windows. “Do you mean how many health violations has it racked up?” A chain-link fence bordered an empty lot across the way, and behind stood what appeared to be a grocery store.
“If that’s supposed to be assuring...”
“Trust me. Is it too muggy, or buggy—” he swatted away a cluster of gnats “—for you?”
“Nah. I’d much rather the heat than the cold. Unlike you.” A teasing smile lit her eyes.
“What?”
“If memory serves, you prefer a much colder climate.”
He still didn’t get it.
“Remember the iceberg plunge.”
He laughed. How could he forget jumping into a pool stocked with ice cubes? “Anything for a good cause.”
She angled her head. “Remind me, what charity was that for?”
“That, I can’t tell you. All I knew was my buddies bet me a large meat-lover’s pizza if I jumped into the iced pool and stayed under for five full seconds. I counted to eight just in case.”
She gave him a playful shove. “You’re terrible.”
“Mite hard in the head, perhaps.”
“Now or then?” The mischievous glint in her eye hiked his pulse.
“Hey, now.” He longed to loop his hand through hers, to tug her to his side, but didn’t want to scare her off. Nor would he start something they’d never be able to finish.
Unless she stayed in Sage Creek, as unlikely as that was.
She breathed deep as they neared the taco truck—a yellow minibus-motorhome-type vehicle decorated with green, orange and blue suns and cacti. The scents of beef, garlic and cumin made his stomach rumble.
“What’s good?” She studied the menu on the A-frame to their right.
“All of it.”
“What do you normally get?”
“All of it.”
Though she rolled her eyes, her hint of a smile indicated she found their lighthearted banter as much fun as he did. He reminded himself once again that he needed to step carefully. To keep things friendly and nothing more, focus on what was best for the children. Allowing his heart to get tangled up in a romance with their maternal aunt would only further complicate things.
They ordered, then took their food to a park bench under a nearby streetlight.
She tore off a piece of tortilla and popped it into her mouth. “Has food always been your weakness?”
He glanced at his burrito bowl, a massive concoction of meat and rice smothered in cheese and salsa, and feigned a hurt expression. “I’m not sure I like your insinuation.”
She laughed, then raised an eyebrow. “All’s I’m saying is, it’d take a whole lot more than pizza for me to go swimming in ice water.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“Hmm...” She tapped her chin. “New shoes, a matching purse. Maybe tickets to the symphony. No, make that season tickets.”
“You’re telling me you and your friends never did anything stupid?”
“Never.” She grinned. “And I’m only half joking. I was always the...obedient sister. Pretty sure my wildest adventure was when I tried out for the dance team.”
He slapped a hand on his thigh. “I remember that!” He gave a low whistle. “You girls were something else, the way you’d glide across the football field.”
“You remember?”
Did he ever. She’d been as beautiful then as she was now, and far too good for troublemakers like he’d been. “Hard not to. Y’all stalled up the football game every halftime.”
“Ouch.” Her playful shoulder nudge assured him she knew he was joking.
“Think you can teach an old blunder-foot like me some of your fancy footwork?”
Her amber eyes, peering up at him with such childlike curiosity, pulled him in. “You serious?”
Delay this evening as much as possible? Find a way to trigger her sweet laugh and create an excuse to get closer to her? “Absolutely.”
“We don’t have music.”
“No problem.” He pulled out his phone and clicked on his music app. A lively country tune came on. “Perfect.”
She stood and tucked her hair behind her ears, looking as shy as a fawn tiptoeing out of the thicket for the first time. “We’ll start with something simple. Old-school.”
He came to her side, the strawberry scent of her shampoo invading his senses.
“Grapevine to the right, then touch.” She demonstrated. “Then do the same to the left, and touch.”
He copied her a few times. Then she added the next step. “Great job. Now back for three, and touch. Then forward and back, forward and scuff.” She paused to watch him and grinned. “That’s it. Now let’s step to the beat. Ready, one, two...” And off she went, silver rays from the moon and nearby streetlight shimmering off her soft locks and accentuating her creamy complexion.
He did his best to keep up, but was soon a laughing, stumbling mess of feet.
“So?” He adjusted his hat. “What do you think? Am I ready for the big time yet?”
“Keep practicing and you might be able to snag a spot on the tiny-tots dance team.”
“Is that right?” He pulled her closer and led her in a two-step, one of her hands smooth and soft in his, the other one light on his shoulder. Common sense told him to stop and distance himself from her, but his heart urged him to keep her close. “And how about now?”
“When did you—”
He spun her around, and when a slower song came on, he transitioned them to a country-nightclub two-step. She felt so right in his arms, followed his lead so easily, was completely relaxed.
Her gaze latched on to his, intensified.
There was no hint of the tension or distrust she’d carried into his ministry that day she’d first tumbled into Sage Creek.
A passing driver blared his horn, and she startled and pulled away, glanced at the street then back at him. She took half a step backward, increasing the distance between them. “It’s getting late, and I have a conference call in the morning.”
“Right.”
Smart girl. One of them needed to keep their heads about them, because he surely didn’t seem able to.
Not when Kayla Fisher was around, anyway.