Chapter 12
Four days away from the ranch had left Cassie feeling like a new woman. That was, until she arrived home, saw the bunch of flowers sitting in a place of pride on the dining table, and discovered who had given them.
“Harrison came here?” Cassie asked. “You invited him to dinner?”
“We couldn’t leave the poor man to eat alone,” her mom said.
Those last two words triggered an avalanche within. “Yes. Yes, you could have. He’s used to eating alone.”
“That’s not very kind Cassie. Especially when he came here to give you that beautiful bunch of flowers.”
“He said that?”
“Near enough.”
She stroked the petals. If asked to describe her ideal bunch of flowers, it would look pretty similar to this. A mix of wildflowers, dusky apricot roses, Queen Anne’s lace, and stalks of lavender, it looked and smelled divine. Clearly the man had paid attention to what she might like. She shivered. Had any man ever gone to so much trouble for her before?
“He’s thoughtful, Cassie.”
“He’s still not a Christian, Mom.”
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean not yet?”
Mom smiled. “Your father might’ve talked with him some, might’ve explained about a few key passages to look up in the Bible.”
“Really?” The skepticism loading that word could sink a ship.
“Don’t take my word for it. Go find the young man yourself and ask him.”
But if she did that, and he said he was, that might crack open the door to a future she hadn’t dared imagine. Couldn’t dare imagine. Because even if a miracle occurred, and Harrison did find faith, how could a relationship work between two such opposites?
And while part of her was tempted to ride over there right now and demand answers, another part urged caution. She had lived a lot in her emotions lately, and didn’t want to keep doing the same. The sermon at church this morning had convicted her about whether she was walking by faith or walking by sight. She knew a lot of what she’d been doing in recent weeks had been because she’d been so busy she had focused on the wrong things. Focused on what she could say, on what she could do, while forgetting how extraordinary God was. God, her heavenly Father, who loved to bless His children with good things. Had busyness snarled her heart so much that she’d forgotten about God’s blessings? Maybe it was time to let go, to trust God to lead and guide her, to sink into the rhythms of God’s grace.
She exhaled. It was way past time to do so. Lord, forgive me for thinking I have to do and know it all. Help me follow You and Your leading. Whatever You want Lord, whoever You’ve got for my future, help me to trust You with it all.
She closed her eyes, glad for this moment of stillness, glad the clutter of past weeks was gone and she could more easily hear the inklings that just might be God’s whisper.
And she prayed again, knowing this next task would need God’s strength.
* * *
By the timeshe reached the western town the shadows were falling. The day’s heat still lay in the timbers and dust, and she was glad when she reached the barber’s. But her knock went unanswered, and she felt a degree of disappointment. Where was he?
“Hello?” she called cautiously. “Harrison?”
Still no answer. Huh.
She kicked at the dust. The ranch was so large he could be anywhere. The day had been warm, so maybe he was down at the creek. She didn’t want to go looking there, though. Maybe she should turn back.
A faint sound drew her down the side of the building to the front. Then to look down the main street. At the end, down at the chapel, there came the faint sound of…music?
She frowned. Nobody was supposed to be in the chapel; there was no filming scheduled there today. So who was there?
The singing got louder as she drew closer and her agitation rose as she mounted the steps and pushed open the white doors then—
“Oh!”
Harrison turned, then stabbed off his phone. Instantly the singing ceased. “Um, hi.”
“What are you doing in here?” Her gaze flicked down and she realized what he held. Her old Bible that she’d placed in his room. Her heart pounded. “What are you doing, Harrison?”
He straightened and looked at her. Offered a small smile. “I could ask you the same question.”
She blinked, her mind awhirl. “I heard you were looking for me.”
“Did you have a nice time in Calgary?”
Her chin dipped. “Did Mom tell you where I was?”
“Yes.”
Was no part of her life to be kept from this man? “Mom said you had dinner with them.”
He shrugged. “I actually went there to have dinner with someone else, but she was away.”
He meant herself, didn’t he? But the second-guessing regarding Poppy and whether he might hold the slightest interest in her prettier dancer sister made her ask, “Who?”
“You know who.”
“Say it.”
His eyes fixed on hers. “You.”
Connection flowed between them, drawing her chest tight, her heart to beat faster.
“But you weren’t there and so your mom felt sorry for me and invited me in.”
“She has always had a thing for strays.”
He flinched.
Remorse bit. “I’m sorry.”
“I guess that’s fair. I know I’ve been in your space a lot, but…” He swallowed, looked down, his lips pulled in.
For a moment she thought he was going to cry.
Her heart softened. How she hated this high horse of indignation she sat on. The man was obviously feeling vulnerable and here she still was, six guns blazing.
He glanced up. “You don’t know how lucky you are. With your parents, I mean. Well, that, and growing up here. Having a family who loves you.”
Compassion drew her chest tight, tickling the backs of her eyes. Oh dear. If he kept this up, she might start to cry. She swallowed and gestured outside. “It’s a bit cooler outdoors. If you want to talk, that is.”
His lips twisted then he nodded, picked up the Bible and his phone, and passed her. She closed the door, and joined him on the porch, sitting near but not too near. She peeked across.
Harrison stilled. Swallowed. Then, gazing straight ahead, said in a low voice, “My dad kicked me out of home as soon as I finished school.”
Cassie’s heart panged. But she couldn’t offer a word of sympathy. If she spoke, he would certainly shut down this rare moment of vulnerability.
He hunched forward, hands gripping the edge of the porch’s wooden boards, and she had to strain to hear his next words.
“I’m a disgrace to the family. That’s what he told me. That I’m weak, too soft playing make believe, not doing a real man’s job.” He peeked across at her. “He’d probably prefer someone like you to be his son rather than me.”
“Excuse me?”
He shrugged. “Because you’re good at all the things he values. You can fix pipes and bathrooms and you can ride a horse like a boss—”
Wow.
“—and you’re tough and smart and pretty and everything I’m not.”
Whoa. Okay, so maybe she didn’t need to jump on the high horse of offense and go riding for the hills. But more than taking pleasure in the fact he thought her pretty—was he for real?—she recognized his comment for the plea it was.
“I’m sure your dad loves you, and is proud of you,” she assured.
“Yeah, you’d think he might be, but it’s hard to believe that from a man who burned my birth certificate.”
She felt her eyes widen. “No way.” How could any father do that to his son?
“Way,” he rasped.
“Oh, Harrison.” The poor man.
His body froze, and it wasn’t hard to deduce how he’d interpreted her words, as if her sympathy was too much. But she couldn’t let him continue this way. Her hand found his and gripped it.
He glanced at their joined hands, and she realized what she’d done. Moved to tug her hand away, but he tightened his hold.
Her heart fluttered, but no, she knew he didn’t mean anything by it. Neither had she. Holding hands with a famous actor in this moment was simply a moment of offering comfort, of offering support, like she would with anyone else. Well, actually, with most other people she’d be hugging them by now, but that would definitely be giving this man the wrong impression. So hand holding it was.
She silently prayed for him, that God would comfort him, and somehow bring restoration in his family. Harrison might act tough, but the rasp in his voice showed he wasn’t immune, that his father’s burning of Harrison’s birth certificate was like the ultimate act of rejection. And now she knew this, she could understand why he kept aloof and didn’t let people in. The fact Harrison had admitted this to her felt like a miracle, like a gift of trust had been handed to her, something she would hold carefully, like a treasure. That they continued to sit here, holding hands, undisturbed, felt like another miracle. Not that it was one she’d ever prayed for. But with the set so busy, the fact he’d had time to share something so personal, something that obviously bothered him, felt like she’d been walking in God’s plans and purposes, here at exactly the right time God needed her. Even if she was only here to provide comfort, and nothing else.
Nothing else. She stilled, now acutely aware of how hot her hand was, that it was feeling a little sweaty, even. And her skin definitely wasn’t soft and delicate like Ainsley Beckett’s probably was. Although whether Ainsley had such amazing qualities as the ability to fix bathrooms remained to be seen…
She drew her hand away, then inched back, before subtly wiping off the sweat down her jeans. No. She wouldn’t go giving him the wrong idea.
He cleared his throat. “And anyway, that’s why I appreciated talking to your folks. Your dad was real understanding. He answered a whole bunch of my questions about all kinds of things.” He peered at her, as if wondering if she knew.
“I haven’t spoken to them about that.”
His shoulders relaxed, as if he was relieved. Which made her wonder exactly what he had been saying.
“Anyway, ever since you made that comment about not wanting to go out with someone who wasn’t a Christian I’ve been wondering why. So your dad explained some things, and I came back to my room and found the Bible—”
Her pulse escalated.
“—and I might’ve been reminded of some things my grandmother used to say. She was a God-fearing woman and took me to church when I was young. I lived with her for a time after my parents split up. Anyway, I found the verses your dad mentioned, and yeah.” He swallowed. “I might’ve prayed, and given my heart to God, and now I’m trying to do things His way again.”
Her hands covered her mouth. Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. “You’re a Christian?” she clarified.
His smile held awkwardness. “Yeah.”
Her skin prickled at his confession. At the realization that her act of boldness in placing the Bible in the room had contributed to this man’s renewal of faith. At the thought that maybe, just maybe, this man might be part of the answer to that prayer she’d prayed about her future. The backs of her eyes heated, and she ducked her head.
“And I figured that seeing it was Sunday, I should be in church.” He glanced at her again. “I also figured you might know a good church for me to go to, but I didn’t want you to think I was imposing again. I bet you do already, about all kinds of things.”
Remorse grew. How awful that she’d resented this man, when God had simply had him on a path to finding Him?
“I’m so happy for you, Harrison. Really. And you know any church would be delighted to have you join with them. Some churches might find a Hollywood actor in their midst a little overwhelming, but it shouldn’t be about that. It should be about finding a church community that encourages and supports you to grow in God.”
Her words echoed in her mind. How often had she made it about herself, rather than seeing things from the bigger perspective?
“Thanks.” He swallowed. “I know I struggle with negativity sometimes, but I own my past behavior, and I want you to know I’m trying to change.”
Was that a plea? It sure sounded like a plea for understanding. For acceptance. She glanced at him. This man was a brother in Christ. But more than that, she’d never had a right to hold offense due to anything he’d done, because as a Christian, she was supposed to let all offenses be placed at the foot of the cross. But she hadn’t. Call it weariness or busyness or whatever, but she’d gotten way too good at nursing resentment and grudges and holding people’s sins against them. He wasn’t the real sinner here. She had been.
Regret squeezed her heart. Lord, I’m sorry.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, Cassie. For all the wrong things I’ve done.” He held out his hand. “And I hope you’ll forgive me.”
She studied his hand, but this time she couldn’t ignore it or make some careless comment. This moment held a weight, a weight that felt like it held seeds of the future. Would she forgive and let God have His way? There was only one answer.
“Of course. And,” she swallowed. “I hope you’ll forgive me too. I, um, haven’t exactly been shining the light of Jesus either.”
“Forgiven.” His grip firmed as his smile lit his eyes.
Oh. Her heart fluttered, as she was again reminded why this man had been accorded heartthrob status on the show. When he smiled with his whole face like that, a girl could very easily get carried away and start believing he meant it for real. And while he might mean it in this moment, and want to have peace with her, she didn’t dare for a second hope he wanted anything more. And even though there was now no longer the barrier of non-shared faith, she’d need to work extra hard now to tamp down any wandering thoughts that might beg to differ. As he’d made perfectly clear, her future was here. His wasn’t.
She drew her hand away. Went to wipe it on her jeans then realized he might take that the wrong way. That wasn’t kind. Even if it was more about her own preservation.
“Well, I’m glad we’ve got that cleared up.”
“Me too.” He smiled again, and again her heart begged to get carried off to fantasy land. But she wouldn’t go there. She wouldn’t, she told herself fiercely.
Because this man dealt with make-believe fiction, while she dealt with cold hard facts. And while God might hold their futures in His hand, she wasn’t going to let her heart bob up and down like an air mattress on the creek, waiting, wondering, hoping for something that surely would not be. She’d have to trust God to have His way.
“I, uh, haven’t really said any of that to anyone before. It’s definitely not on my IMDB profile.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
His eyebrows lifted. “You sure?”
She mimed zipping her lip and throwing away the key. “Mm-hm.”
His lips tweaked wryly, and she was glad to get that much amusement from him.
“You’re all right, Ms. James.”
Her throat grew tight. Only all right? Maybe she wasn’t as oblivious to him as she wanted to be, after all.
She pushed off the porch, dusting her hands on the back of her jeans. Stole a look at him as she repositioned her cowboy hat. “I don’t think you know just how right I can be.” She permitted a small curve of her mouth and pistol-pointed at him. “You better watch out. I’ll be praying.”
“Really?”
She dipped her chin, and secured her hat more firmly.
“Thanks.”
Her lips lifted, and his did the same, and she was tempted to maintain the connection. But it wasn’t wise. Would only end in heartbreak. So she muttered an excuse and walked away.
* * *
Harrison watched her stride away,her jeans hugging her like an ad for Levi’s. He exhaled, glanced down at his scuffed boots. He really shouldn’t be paying attention to things like that. Especially when it now felt like that by sharing his past she was now walking away with a tiny piece of his soul. And he hated the fact that she’d seen him so weak. He already knew himself to be so pitiful in comparison to her general awesomeness, that to expose himself to her pity made him feel even more like the dust under her boots.
He snuck another look at her. He’d seen how she’d wiped her hands of him. Literally. He’d savored her touch—heck, he wouldn’t have said no to a hug, he’d been so desperate—but she obviously didn’t want any part of that. Instead, she’d wiped away his touch like she couldn’t wait to get rid of him. Just like she’d walked away as quick as she could after he’d poured out his heart to her. She didn’t want him. And who could blame her? He’d revealed his brokenness and perfect her with her perfect family hadn’t liked what she’d seen.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his grandmother’s cameo brooch, and traced the perfect lines on the woman’s face.