Wisdom Tree Page 14

  “He died, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he did.” She nodded sharply, her throat suddenly tight. “I see something in you, Corey, something that tugs on my heart.”

  “What?”

  “A smart kid who’s struggling to figure out how life works.”

  “I don’t feel smart anymore.” Corey frowned. “It used to be so easy—school. I didn’t even have to think much. But now, it’s really hard to care. I mean, nothing is for sure, right? I can walk outside and get hit by a mail truck or struck by lightning and that’s it—game over. So why bother?”

  “Because there are two sides to every coin, and what if nothing bad happens and you’re here for the long haul? What are you going to do with your life—just sit around and wait for the next tragedy?”

  “That’s what Jake says. He’s Mr. Sunshine, for sure. And I can’t figure out why. I’ve pretty much ruined his life.”

  “Doesn’t look that way from my corner.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  There was a slight pause as Corey considered her words. Then he nodded slightly and continued. “Jake said your mom died, too.”

  Carin sucked in a breath. “That’s right.”

  “So you get it, don’t you?”

  “Uh-huh.” She knew exactly what he meant.

  “The kids here, most of them don’t. They look at me like I have some kind of disease. Some ask stupid questions, and the rest avoid talking about my parents—or the fact that I live with Jake—altogether. Amy and Dillon are the only ones who don’t make me feel…weird. At least not that kind of weird.”

  “There’ll be others who’ll understand, the older you get. I promise.”

  “Yesterday…what happened…well, it brought back a lot of memories. I wish they just…wouldn’t still hurt so much.”

  “I know what you mean.” Carin twisted the mother-of-pearl ring she always wore on her right index finger—a gift handed down from her grandmother to her mom, and then to her at her high school graduation several years ago. “I wish I had an answer for that, but I don’t. I guess it just takes time.”

  “I like the way you admit it when you don’t know the answer to something. Some people—well, they act like they know everything.” Corey rolled his eyes. “No one knows everything, not even Jake.”

  “You’re right.” Carin studied Corey’s expressive blue eyes, the same shade as Jake’s, and the dark waves of hair that were a mirror of Jake’s, as well. He fidgeted, running his finger along a ridge someone had carved into the surface of the desk top with a pen. “Jake said you had nightmares after we found Scooter.”

  “Not too bad. They still come every once in a while, but I can deal with it.” Corey shrugged. “Jake likes you—a lot. I can tell by the way he looks at you, kind of dewy-eyed.”

  “Dewy-eyed.” Carin laughed. “That’s so—”

  “Corny, I know.”

  “I was going to say sweet. That’s so sweet.”

  “Whatever. At first, it made me mad—and kind of scared, if you really want to know the truth. Because I thought, well, that you’d be like Rachelle. She wanted Jake to send me to a foster home.” He sucked a breath, shook his head. “She hated me. Talk about having nightmares.”

  “I know. Jake told me.”

  “He did?” Cory’s eyes widened. “I’m glad he didn’t…send me away, I mean.”

  “Me, too.” Carin stretched a hand across the desk to brush the hair from his eyes. “He never would, no matter how hard you try to make him. You don’t need to worry about that. It’s a waste of energy.”

  Corey held her gaze. “You’re not like her…like Rachelle. Not at all.”

  “Hmmm…” Carin’s hand slipped to his cheek for the slightest moment before she drew back. “Thanks.”

  “I just wanted to tell you that. I needed to—” He turned as footsteps echoed down the hall. “I’ll bet that’s Jake.”

  Carin glanced at the clock above the white board. “Five-fifteen. I’ll bet your right.”

  Jake rounded the corner and strode through the doorway. “Hey, Corey.”

  “Hey back.”

  “Hi, Carin.” He leaned against the doorjamb as his gaze locked with hers. She imagined he saw the dark circles that shadowed her eyes. She’d done her best to conceal them beneath a layer of makeup that morning but had failed miserably. “You doing OK?”

  “Yeah.” She unfolded herself from the desk, went to him, and sighed as he pulled her in. The soft fabric of his polo shirt, the clean scent of aftershave, comforted. “And you?”

  He kissed the top of her head. “A little road weary, but good. I’ve been at meetings all day, and then made a quick trip to the hospital to visit with Mrs. Landers after she came out of surgery.”

  “How is she?”

  “Healing just fine. She said to thank you for the books you sent over. She’ll have plenty of time to read while she’s recovering.”

  “Good. I’m glad she liked them.”

  “I missed lunch.” Jake patted his belly and turned to Corey. “You hungry?”

  “You know I am.”

  “How about some Chinese from Ming Tree? You haven’t made silly faces at the koi fish for a while. I bet they miss you.”

  “Probably.” Corey slipped from the desk and grabbed his equipment bag. “But I only want to go if Miss O’Malley comes, too.”

  “That works,” Jake said. “Because I went to check on Scooter, and the vet said he’ll be well enough to come home tonight.”

  “Really?” Corey gave a fist pump.

  “Yes, really.” Jake smiled. “So gather your stuff and let’s go.”

  “On the way to dinner can we stop at Amy’s house to drop off her homework?”

  “Homework?” Jake pressed a hand to Corey’s forehead. “Who are you, and where is my brother?”

  ****

  Jake watched the two of them—Corey and Carin—and realized that something in Corey had changed. It was a subtle change, granted, but a change all the same. What had he missed? Corey listened and laughed—actually laughed—over a silly joke Carin shared. Imagine that.

  Once Rachelle snubbed him, Corey wouldn’t give her the time of day. It got to the point, in fact, that if Jake was with one it meant not being with the other, or enduring a litany of jabs passed back and forth until he could no longer stand it.

  Again, he tried not to compare but couldn’t seem to help himself.

  After dinner, they picked up Scooter from the vet and then drove to Carin’s house. Corey sat on the living room floor, cuddling the cat like a baby. He refused to let go.

  “I still wish you’d file a restraining order,” Jake said to Carin. “Then if anything else happens, at least they’ll have some kind of record.”

  “I went yesterday morning.” Carin drew a sip of coffee.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jake took the coffee mug from her hand, set it on the kitchen table, and then drew her close. He pressed his lips to the crown of her hair, inhaled the sweet scent of sandalwood before dipping lower, to her cheek, and then finally her mouth. He tasted, savored, then drew back. “I would have gone with you.”

  “I needed to do it alone. I’m putting an end to Phillip’s assault, Jake.” She clung to him, her heart thumping against his chest. “I’m tired of feeling afraid, of holding onto the hurt. I just don’t want to hurt anymore.”

  “I’m glad.” He sighed as his insides struggled to make sense of it all. “Because I care about you, Carin. I’m beginning to…fall in love with you. But even more than that, Corey cares about you, too. God has used you to ignite a change in him greater than any I imagined in my prayers. You’ve given him—and me—hope again.”

  16

  Carin thought she might not be able to find it, but after only one wrong turn and a bit of backtracking she located the gravel road that led to the gigantic oak—Jake’s wisdom tree.

  She felt a bit like an intruder as she took a blanket from her car and stro
de toward the tree, but she needed a quiet place to think—to sort everything out—and this was the first place that came to mind.

  She spread the blanket beneath the tree and settled in, leaning her back against the sturdy trunk to gaze over the valley below. Clouds gathered like lamb’s wool and the breeze nipped, hinting that autumn was inching toward winter. A hawk circled overhead, reminding her of Corey’s comment.

  I think Jake’s part hawk.

  Carin sighed. From here, everything seemed so peaceful and serene. Why couldn’t life really be that way? The scent of decaying leaves, earthy and musty, filled her nose. The ground was damp, and moss grew all around the base of the trunk, like a soft layer of tiny pillows. Above her, a crimson cardinal flitted about the oak’s web of branches, adding a splash of color. Carin wondered if it was the same bird she and Jake had seen the last time she was here.

  She reached into the tote she’d brought, found the Bible Jake had given her and flipped it open to Psalms. The book had so many great messages, and she needed to hear them now. Maybe, somewhere in the words, she’d find an answer…and a path.

  She’d reported the history of Phillip’s actions to the police and secured a restraining order against him, but that wasn’t the end of things, she knew. She still had Cameron’s journal—though her dad didn’t know it existed. She knew she had to tell him about it—should have done so immediately—and now the omission weighed heavily, even though her reasons for withholding the truth seemed valid at the time.

  Things were so mixed up, and a lack of sleep made it even harder to focus. Almost a week had passed since the break in, and though the police report was filed, she still jumped at the slightest night creak. Scooter, thank goodness, was healing nicely, but the vet said he’d probably always walk with a limp. Carin grew misty-eyed at the way he mewled as she filled his food dish, and how he tried to wind figure-eight’s around her ankles, so happy to see her when she came home from work. The realization of how close she’d come to losing him made her tremble.

  She thought of Jake—the strength of him and his kind and giving heart. He’d found Scooter and had whisked him to the vet quickly enough to save the cat’s life. He knew she loved Scooter, and that, clearly, was all that mattered to him. Jake had befriended her—fallen in love with her—and all she’d given him was a bushel full of trouble and a slew of unanswered questions. Where was the fairness in that?

  Carin loved him, too. She knew it with every fiber of her being. But she didn’t deserve him. That, she also knew. Not if something didn’t change, and quick. The flash of hurt in his eyes when she refused to share with him told the story. She couldn’t hurt him, not any more than she already had. She’d pray for the right words and then tell him about Phillip—the whole story…somehow.

  ****

  Jake saw the sedan as soon as he crested the hill and was thankful for his good instincts. Carin was seated beneath the tree, her legs stretched along a blanket and her head dipped toward a book. He recognized the navy cover and knew it was the Bible he’d given her. Carin didn’t see him, and he hadn’t alerted her by sound either, since he’d parked the Jeep at the base of the drive and hiked up.

  He struggled between staying and going. She obviously needed time to be alone, to sort out whatever was going through that pretty little head of hers. But he had needs, too, and what better place to talk it out than here—beneath the canopy of the wisdom tree.

  Maybe his hesitation came in the fact that he knew whatever she was harboring had to be pretty serious, or she would have shared it already. And he also sensed that whatever it was might change things between them, maybe things that were too big to fix. And then what? Could he walk away with his heart shattered?

  He shook his head as he crossed the pasture, already knowing the answer. He loved Carin, and nothing she told him would change that. Nothing.

  A twig snapped beneath his tennis shoe, and Carin lifted her head. Her gaze locked with his, and for a moment confusion held the reins. But then understanding took over, and she set down the Bible.

  “Jake, you startled me.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked so…engrossed.”

  “Psalms usually does that to me.” She reached into her tote, pulled out a bottle of water. “Take this. You look…hot.”

  He laughed, remembering the first time they met. “Thanks.”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “I didn’t, for sure. I just had a hunch.” He settled on the blanket beside her and leaned back against the tree. “I stopped by school to surprise you with lunch, but Hailey said you took a personal day. So I checked your house, saw your car was gone, and just figured…” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You could have just called.”

  “Nah…too easy.”

  Carin laughed. “So, where’s the lunch?”

  “Here.” He placed a bag on the blanket. “I know how you like grilled chicken salad, so I stopped by that place in town that you mentioned and got you one. I hope I asked for the right type of dressing.”

  “Oh, Jake, that’s so…sweet.”

  “Sweet’s my middle name—unless Corey’s mad at me, then I’m sure he comes up with something else altogether.”

  Again, Carin laughed. “Share with me?”

  “No thanks.” He shook his head and loosened the cap on the bottle of water. “No rabbit food for me. I’ll stick to burgers.”

  “But you didn’t bring a burger.”

  “I ate it in the car on the way here.” He rubbed his belly. “It’s a job requirement. Pastors need to be experts at eating on the run. We do it a lot.”

  “I see.” Carin opened the white paper bag, drew out a foil tin with a cardboard cover. “This smells good.”

  “Hope it tastes good, too.”

  She tore open a package of ranch dressing, dumped half on the salad, and put the rest back in the bag. “I’m sorry you missed me at work.”

  “But I found you here.”

  “Even better.” She slipped a forkful of salad into her mouth, chewed, swallowed. “Was my class behaving for the substitute?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Arghh.” She speared a piece of chicken. “No more personal days for me.”

  Jake laughed. “I can see the slew of writing assignments now.”

  “Jake?” Carin balanced the salad on her lap as she reached for a bottle of water. “I’m glad you came here. I…want to talk to you.”

  “I was hoping you would.”

  “There’s so much to say. I don’t know where to start.”

  “The beginning’s a good place.”

  “Maybe.” She sighed. “I know I’ve been elusive…sharing things with you. I don’t mean to be, truly. It’s just…the deeper I get, the harder it is to dig myself out.”

  “I know what you mean.” He slipped in beside her and settled his back against the trunk of the tree. “I’ve been there, too.”

  “Did you ever have something that hurt so much, made you so angry, that you knew you had to purge yourself of it, but you just couldn’t seem to let go?”

  “I’ve lost my parents, Carin. My fiancée made me choose…” He snatched a tomato from her salad and popped it into his mouth. “People think because I’m a pastor, that I have some super-human ability to deflect the basic human emotions—fear, hurt, anger, resentment—but I don’t. I feel the same as they do…as you do.”

  “But you seem different, somehow—stronger.”

  “I think sometimes God pulls you to the very depths of the ocean before he helps you make that climb to the summit. I’ve been there, Carin, and through it I learned to embrace the power of prayer. It’s the only way.”

  “I’ve tried…truly I have. God just doesn’t seem to be listening.”

  “Oh, He is. He just works in His own time.”

  “How can I trust that, Jake? I want to, but I feel like I’m caught on a suspension bridge, and the wind is gusting. I�
�m going to fall.”

  “God will catch you.” Jake reached for the Bible. “Keep reading this. It’s full of His promises.”

  “I have to make peace with it—with what happened to Cameron—the best I can. It’s time, Jake.”

  “I understand.”

  “I spoke to my dad last night. He’s coming for a visit this weekend. I’d like you to meet him.”

  “I’d like that, too.”

  Jake opened the Bible to one of the pages he’d color coded with a sticky strip, and began to read.

  “‘Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him. He will be like a tree planted by the water, that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.’”

  “That’s beautiful,” Carin murmured. “What is it?”

  “From the book of Jeremiah, chapter 17. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “You have a lot of favorites, don’t you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Read me another passage. Your voice…it calms me.”

  He flipped through the pages. “What would you like to hear?”

  “Another of your favorites.”

  He settled on Psalms and read until Carin got her fill of salad. Then he paused to help her gather the empty carton back into the bag.

  “Jake?” She glanced up at him as their fingers touched.

  “I’m here, Carin.”

  “I have some things I need to tell you.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, let it go, and rested her hands in her lap. “Things I want to share with you about Phillip…and me.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “OK. I—”

  His phone rang and he groaned as he drew it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. He lifted his gaze to her. “I’m sorry. I have to take this.”

  ****

  She waited. He spoke only a few words, listened a length of time, and then disconnected, his mouth drawn, eyes dark with concern. “I’m sorry, Carin. I have to go. Pastor Julian…he just passed away.”