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Cassidy stared at the retreating ambulance as it carried her mother away, tears streaming down her face, her shoulders heaving with emotion. Tate felt his insides being squeezed at the sight of her solitary figure, alone and hurting. He battled the impulse to wrap his arms around her, not knowing if it would be an intrusion.
Tate moved toward her, wanting to let her know she wasn’t alone. He could see what it was doing to her. It made him ache inside to see her broken up like this. It made him feel guilty for having been so abrupt with her earlier.
“She’s going to be just fine,” he said, trying to make his words sound reassuring. “It’s probably just heat stroke.”
Lord, please don’t make a liar out of me. Please don’t let this be a setback for Maylene.
“You don’t know that,” she said, her voice breaking under the strain. Vibrant green eyes studied him and he could see it all in their depths—fear, uncertainty, panic.
“Tate, I’m scared. What if I’ve come back after all this time only to lose her? I’ll never forgive myself.” Her voice was tight with emotion.
“Don’t think like that. Just pray, Cass. Tell God what’s in your heart. Let him know how scared you are.” It’s what he’d done in the days and weeks after the accident—he’d put it all out there in the hopes that God was listening to his prayers. And He had been. Tate knew it with a certainty. That experience had forever changed him into a believer.
He pulled Cassidy to him, wrapping his arms around her and smoothing back her strawberry blond mane. She smelled of strawberries and vanilla, reminding him of lazy summer nights and stolen kisses in her mother’s rose garden. He heard her muffled sobs, felt the heaving of her chest as she vented her fear and sorrow. Her arms grabbed him around the waist as if he were a lifeline. She clung to him for a few moments—brief moments when he wanted nothing more than to comfort her and give her a soft place to fall.
Just when he’d thought he was done with Cassidy, he felt himself being pulled back into her world.
After a few minutes she untangled herself from his arms. “I should get going to the hospital.” She let out a ragged sigh. “I really need to find out what’s going on with Mama. I’m sure Daddy is frantic with worry.”
“Go, Cassidy. Be with your family.” The thought of her being at the hospital supporting her family made him feel warm inside. He had a hunch that most of the congregation would check up on the family and make sure they were fed and cared for. It was one of the many strengths of Main Street Church—its members came together in times of trouble.
She flashed him a tight smile. “Thanks for everything. Really. You always know what to do in a crisis, Tate.”
“Keep me posted, okay?” he called after her. “I’ll be at the Sheriff’s Office.”
“Will do,” she shouted as she hurried off. He watched her as she located her father’s car in the lot and gained entry to the vehicle, the tires spewing dirt and dust as she took off.
For what seemed like an eternity he paced back and forth, his mind filled with thoughts of Cassidy and her parents. He knew it was dangerous to get caught up in Cassidy’s life, but he couldn’t help himself. Pastor Blake and Maylene had always treated him like a member of their family. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t care about their well-being. With a groan of surrender he made his way to his car and jumped in, revving the engine as if he was racing in the Indy 500. In record time he made it across town to Trinity Hospital.
A portly nurse directed him to the seventh floor when he arrived at the emergency room. After taking a short elevator ride he found Cassidy sitting on a sofa outside room 723, her hands clasped in prayer. When she glanced up and saw him standing there, relief washed over her face.
“Tate! What are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to check on your mother’s condition. How is she?” He jammed his hands into his front pockets and rocked a bit on the heels of his cowboy boots.
“The doctors are still in with her. They let Daddy stay, but they won’t let me inside.” She raked a hand through her wayward curls. “It feels like I’ve been waiting out here for forever.”
“Patience is a virtue,” Tate quipped, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.
Cassidy smiled back at him, filling him with satisfaction that he’d been able to provide her with a little distraction.
“I used to hate when Daddy said that. It always seemed as if he was staring straight at me when he said it.”
He smiled at the memory. Cassidy couldn’t have been more than eight years old. He’d been a year and a half older, but only one year ahead of her in class. Kids within a certain age range were grouped together for Bible Class so he’d been alongside Cassidy and Holly. Pastor Blake had been their teacher.
“I think he was trying to send you a message. From what I remember, you weren’t the most patient of children.” Tate sat down next to Cassidy and settled in.
Cassidy made a face. “As I said then, patience is for old people and fools.” She giggled, spurred on by the memory of her eight-year-old self.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your father more angry,” Tate said, surrendering to a full-on chuckle. “Didn’t he kick you out of class?”
“Yep,” she answered with a grin. “I had to sit in his office and write the phrase patience is a virtue one hundred times. To this day I don’t understand why it’s such a virtue. Even as a kid I always ripped through my Christmas presents in record time.”
“I suppose that was the downside of being the pastor’s daughter. Having your father teach Bible Class couldn’t have been much fun. You never got away with a single thing.”
“Tell me about it,” she said with a groan.
