The Cowboy's Easter Family Wish. Lois RicherЧитать онлайн книгу.
He walked toward the room Maddie indicated, and stepped inside, surprised by the plain simplicity of it. No superhero posters, no toys scattered around, no video games or computer. No distractions. Just one small bedside photo of a man with dark hair graying at the temples and a severe-looking face. Noah’s father, Jesse guessed. “Hey. Ready for bed, huh?”
“Yes.” Noah lay tucked in his bed, covered to his chin in a gorgeous gray quilt with puffy, silver-white clouds delicately dotting the surface. Somehow Jesse knew Maddie had made it. “Thank you for helping my mom and me make the treats, Jesse.”
“You’re very welcome. I hope you enjoy them.” Jesse could tell the boy wanted to ask something, so even though Maddie stood behind him, ready to escort him out, he waited.
“Sometime...” Noah paused, glanced at his mother, then let the words spill out. “If it’s not too much trouble, could you maybe show me your tent and campfire and—everything?”
“Sure.” There was such a longing in the boy’s request that Jesse couldn’t let it be. “We’ll make s’mores,” he promised.
“Some mores?” Noah frowned. “What’s that?”
“S’mores.” He grinned. “Did you like the I Have a Dream snacks?”
“Oh, yes.” Noah licked his lips with relish.
“Then you’ll like s’mores,” Jesse promised with a chuckle. “After I talk to the people at Wranglers and find out if I can get a job, I’ll check with your mom and we’ll set up a time for you to visit my campsite. Okay?”
“Thank you very much.” Noah’s eyes shone.
“You’re welcome. Good night, Ark Man.”
“Good night, PBX.” A sly smile lit his face.
“Pardon?” Jesse couldn’t figure out what the letters meant, but the boy wore a smug look. “What’s a PBX?”
“Peanut butter expert.” Noah grinned when Jesse laughed. Then he suddenly looked worried. “Is it okay?”
“It’s an excellent nickname. Thank you, Ark Man. Sleep well.”
Noah nodded, snuggled his head against the pillow and closed his eyes.
Jesse followed Maddie to the living room and sat in the chair she indicated, still chuckling.
“PBX. What a kid.” He caught her studying him. “By the way, if his quilt is an example of what you can create with mere fabric,” he said, “I’m in awe. Forget learning to cook. Your work is spectacular.”
“Thank you.” She actually blushed at the compliment. “It couldn’t be bright and colorful, so I did the next best thing. Noah seems to like it.”
“Why couldn’t it be bright?” Jesse was curious about her response. “Are colors against Noah’s rules?”
“No.” She gave him a quick glance, then shifted her gaze to somewhere beyond his shoulder. “Noah is autistic. Too many bright colors or vivid patterns create heightened stimulation and that stresses him. So I tried to make his room calm but still attractive, a place where he can rest, concentrate, be at peace.”
“Looks to me like you succeeded. With him, too. He’s a great kid.”
“Thank you.” Maddie twiddled her fingers together, then looked directly at him. “I guess you know a lot about kids, having been a youth pastor.”
“I don’t know as much as I should,” Jesse said bitterly, his joy in Noah’s excitement evaporating. If he was going to hang with her son, Maddie deserved to know the truth. “One of the kids in my group committed suicide and I’m to blame.”
“Why?” Her soft question wasn’t perfunctory. She leaned forward, her eyes wide with interest, as she waited for his response.
“Because I couldn’t stop him.” How it hurt to admit that.
“I don’t understand.” Maddie frowned. “Were you there at the time?”
“No. Scott was at home, in his room, when he took an overdose of pills.” Jesse gave the details clearly and concisely, his guilt burgeoning with each word. “His parents found him in the morning, lifelessly clutching a note that said he was being bullied and wanted to make it stop.” Waves of self-recrimination returned.
“Oh, no.” Her whisper of empathy helped him continue.
“I was Scott’s friend as well as his youth pastor. I saw him at least three times a week. I took him for a soda that very afternoon.” He shook his head. “Why didn’t I know? Why didn’t I see something?”
“I’m so sorry, Jesse.” Maddie’s sympathy brought him back to the present.
“Thanks. I had to tell you.”
“You did?” Her green gaze widened. “Why?”
“In case you don’t want me to be around Noah.” To his utter shock and dismay, Maddie began to laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“You.” She shook her head. “Jesse, do you have any idea how I’ve longed for my son to break free of his autism long enough to find joy in kid things?”
He shook his head.
“Only since he was diagnosed, when he was three,” she told him, her tone fierce. “Tonight, for the first time in eons, I watched Noah become engaged and interested, really interested, in something.”
“It was just candy.”
“Just candy?” Maddie chuckled. “Noah doesn’t eat candy. Ever. He only talks about candy, repeatedly reciting his father’s rule about its unhealthiness. Tonight, somehow, you got him to not only make candy but eat it and enjoy it. That’s huge.”
“I’m glad if he did.” Jesse grinned. “Even if it wasn’t triangles.”
“He has a thing about triangles. But that isn’t all you did.” Maddie’s lashes were suddenly wet as a tear rolled down her cheek. When she looked at him, deep love for her precious boy lay vulnerably revealed. “You talked to him, not at him. You treated him as if he’s normal kid.”
“Well, he is. Isn’t he?” Jesse frowned at her.
“Noah has...issues other kids don’t have. He’s very reclusive. He doesn’t interact easily and yet tonight you discovered interests in him that I never even imagined. Nicknames. Camping.” She shook her head, a rueful look on her face. “How could I not have known Noah was interested in camping? Liam was right. Sometimes I am just plain dumb.”
“Liam being...?” Jesse had to ask, though he was pretty sure he already knew who this denigrating person was.
“Liam was my husband. That’s his picture by Noah’s bed.” A rueful smile lifted the edges of her lips. “You probably wonder how I could have married a man so much older than me.”
That question along with a hundred more about this amazing woman had burned through his brain, but Jesse remained silent, letting her speak on her own terms.
“Everyone wants to know that and the answer is...” she paused, her face tightening “...escape. You told me about your past, so I’ll share some of mine.” She took a deep breath. “My father was abusive when he got drunk. I spent my childhood and youth avoiding him, hiding out at a friend’s, keeping his secret, trying to finish my studies so I could graduate and leave.”
“But you should have—”
“Told someone?” A half smile that held no mirth lifted her lips. “I did once and paid for it dearly. I knew that if I told again, I would only get hurt that much more. I wasn’t that stupid,” she added, almost defiantly.
“So Liam came along,” Jesse murmured, knowing exactly where this was going.