Russ smiled at Marielle’s laugh. It was warm, genuine and simply made him feel good for being the one to make her happy.

But with his carefree smile on the outside, his heart was pounding on the inside.

The waiter came with their meals, though all Russ could do was watch her as she ate.

He was enjoying himself way too much, proving that it had been way too long since he’d been out on a date.

Except this wasn’t a date. This was work.

Although if it was work, he was having way too much fun.

GAIL SATTLER

lives in Vancouver, British Columbia (where you don’t have to shovel rain), with her husband of twenty-seven years, three sons, two dogs, five lizards, one toad and a degu named Bess. Gail loves to read stories with a happy ending, which is why she writes them. Visit Gail’s Web site at www.gailsattler.com.

Head Over Heels
Gail Sattler

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

However, as it is written, “No eye has seen, no ear

has heard, no mind has conceived what God has

prepared for those who love him.”

—1 Corinthians 2:9

To Tim, my favorite Web designer

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

Chapter One

The cell phone rang from the passenger seat.

Marielle glanced at the display to see that it was one of the youth group members calling. It was also 2:49 p.m., which was a mere four minutes after the students were dismissed for the day. “Not now, Brittany,” she muttered as she rammed her foot on the brake pedal to avoid a man who was jay-walking, or rather jay-running, across the street. As soon as the man was out of her path, Marielle picked up speed to the snail’s pace of the rest of the downtown traffic.

The phone stopped ringing, but only for as long as it took Brittany to redial.

“This better be important,” Marielle grumbled as she turned out of traffic and into the nearest driveway—the entrance leading to an older complex with main-level parking, and a small office building above.

Carefully, she pulled in and stopped, leaving enough room that someone who needed to get into the parking area could pass her. She reached for the still-ringing phone and hit the talk button, but before she could say hello, a deafening bang sounded above her head.

Marielle dropped the phone. Instinctively, she ducked and covered her head with her arms. She waited for more—for the car to shake, for the crash of more to hit the car, for a hail of debris to fall around her.

But all was silent.

With her arms still sheltering her head, she peeked up at the ceiling of her car. The center was heavily dented. A groan of stressed metal signified a movement above, and a man’s body rolled off the roof and landed limply on the hood.

On impact his eyes fluttered open. For a split second she made eye contact with the man through the windshield. A combination of pain, shock and confusion showed in his face. Then his eyes drifted shut.

Marielle could barely pick up the phone, her hands were shaking so badly. After three jabs she managed to hit the end button on Brittany without speaking to her, then poked out 9-1-1. “A man just landed on the roof of my car!” she yelled to the operator. “I’m at the complex on 5th and Main! Send an ambulance!” Without waiting for a reply, she threw the phone onto the seat.

Marielle pushed the door, but it wouldn’t open. Instead of wasting time fighting with it, she scrambled out the window. As her feet touched the ground, people began to gather around her car.

The man lay sprawled on the hood, still on his stomach, not moving. His arms and legs didn’t seem to be at odd angles, which Marielle thought was probably a good sign. She didn’t see blood gushing from anywhere except his nose. She supposed this was also a good sign.

She could detect labored breathing from the movement of his chest beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.

She focused on controlling her voice to sound as calm as possible, even though her heart was racing and her chest was so tight she could barely breathe. “Can you speak?” she asked, looking into his face, hoping she would be able to tell if he was alert. As she spoke, his eyes opened, but they didn’t look right.

Her first impulse was to hold one finger up and see if he could focus on it, not that she would know what to do after that.

The man tensed slightly, as if he wanted to push himself upward but couldn’t. His whole body went completely limp, and his head lay heavily on the hood. His eyes turned to her—haunted eyes—but Marielle doubted that he really saw her.

“Why?” he moaned. His eyes rolled back, and he passed out.

Marielle froze. She knew that someone involved in an accident was supposed to kept still and calm until the professionals arrived.

She looked up, as if judging how far he’d fallen would help her figure out what to do.

A woman’s head poked out of the third-floor window directly above them.

“Help us!” Marielle called out.

The woman’s head disappeared quickly inside without her acknowledging what had happened.

Marielle returned all her attention to the injured man. Trying to be gentle, but firm, Marielle pressed her hands into the center of his back to steady him so he wouldn’t have a second fall, this time from the hood of her car onto the cement driveway.

“Does anyone know what to do?” she called out over her shoulder to the people that had gathered around her car. “Is there anyone here with any first-aid training?”

Everyone backed up.

A siren finally sounded in the distance. Marielle turned back to the man. She could only think of one thing to do until the ambulance arrived, and that was to pray for him.

Just in case he moved, she kept her eyes open while she spoke.

“Dear Lord,” she prayed softly, so only the man and God could hear. She looked at his face, a face she knew would haunt her dreams for a long time to come. “Please help this man to live. Please love him and touch him and be with him as You heal whatever injuries he has. Please guide the doctors and nurses, and just make him all better. Amen.”

A small group of people ran out of the building. “Russ! Russ!” one of the men called out.

Just then the ambulance arrived. The attendants shooed away everyone but Marielle, instructing her to steady the man while they prepared to move him onto a stretcher. A police car arrived as they secured him to the gurney and slid it into the ambulance.

By the time the ambulance doors closed and the lights and siren went on, quite a large crowd had gathered on the sidewalk, and the traffic on the street had ground to a halt. A crew from the Daily News pushed their way through the throng.

The police officer approached her. “Excuse me, I need to take a statement. Is this your vehicle?”

For the first time, Marielle looked at the size of the dent in the roof of her car. “Yes, it is.”

“Were there any witnesses?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t even see anything myself. I was at a dead stop…” Marielle’s voice trailed off and she shuddered inwardly at her own use of the word dead. She didn’t want to entertain the possibility. “I pulled out of traffic to answer my cell phone, and that was it. There was this bang and then he rolled off the roof and landed on the hood.”

“Did anyone come forward? We need to identify him.”

She pointed to a group of people standing beside her car. “Those people came running out of the building. One of them called out the name Russ, but the ambulance got here at the same time.” She paused. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

“I can’t say, ma’am. Do you know where he came from?”

Marielle looked up at the three-story building. “I didn’t see anything until I heard the bang, and by then it was too late. That’s all I know.”

The officer tucked the notepad into his pocket and scribbled a number on a card. “Thank you for your time. Here’s the file number—you’ll have to report this to your insurance agent. Please call me if you remember anything more.”

The second the police officer walked toward the onlookers, a reporter shoved a microphone in her face. “I’m Claudia Firth from the Daily News. Do you know if he jumped or if he was pushed?”

“I don’t know anything. Just suddenly there was this big bang, and there he was.” Marielle trembled at the memory. “If you’ll excuse me, I have someplace to be, and I’m late. I think those people know something.” She pointed to the bystanders who were now speaking with the officer.

Before the reporter had even lowered the microphone, Marielle turned and hurried to her car.

She gritted her teeth, held her breath, grabbed the handle and pulled, hoping that it could still be opened from the outside, even though she hadn’t been able to open it from the inside.

With a pop and a groan of stressed metal, the latch gave way. Marielle braced herself to regain her balance after the sudden release of tension, then scrambled in behind the steering wheel. She slammed the door shut, gave it a small push to make sure it would stay closed, and drove away.

Just before she turned out of the parking lot, she glanced in the rearview mirror to where both the police officer and the reporter were speaking to the shrinking crowd.

She wasn’t sure what had happened, but she sure wanted to know….

“Hello, Mr. Branson. Just checking up on you again. Are you awake?”

Russ opened one eye and tried to move as little as possible. “Unfortunately, yes,” he replied quietly.

“How are you feeling?”

He’d definitely felt better, although right now, he was simply glad to be alive. “I’d feel much better if you could give me something for this headache.”

“You know I can’t do that yet. We have to get you sitting up so we can go through the routine again. It’s time.”

“Already?” Russ winced as the nurse helped pull him to a sitting position, taking care not to aggravate his cracked ribs. As she raised the back of the bed, every minute felt like an hour. Finally Russ could lean back again.

“We only have to do this once more in another hour, and then, if everything stays the same, I can leave you alone.”

“Good. Don’t take it personally, but it’s been a long night.”

The nurse smiled. “I’m sure it has. Look up. How many fingers this time?”

“Three.”

“Good. Now watch my pen.”

The nurse shone the flashlight in his eyes while he watched the pen moving around. The beam of light seared into his brain, but he didn’t know if that was normal. If it wasn’t, he feared they would make him stay.

“You’re going pale again. How are you feeling?”

Russ exhaled, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. “Like I’ve been run over by a truck. Tell me the truth. Are there tire-tread marks on my forehead?”

The nurse cleared her throat and pointed the pen at him. “Mr. Branson…”

He almost started to smile, but the movement in his face caused another wave of pain to shoot through his cheeks and up into his broken nose. “I don’t want to complain,” he said, “but I’ve still got that splitting headache that just won’t go away. And it really hurts when I laugh.” Not that he’d actually laughed. Nothing was very funny since he’d regained consciousness. They wouldn’t give him any painkillers until he passed the safety time zone that would signify there were no complications to his concussion.

“What time is it?”

Russ sighed, then gasped at the stabbing sensation in his ribs. He cringed and wrapped his arms around himself to support his cracked ribs, but it didn’t help. Pushing on the bruises and sore ribs made him see stars.

“The clock is right there behind you on the wall if you want to know,” he said.

The nurse tapped the pen on the top of the clipboard. “Quit trying to be funny. We have to do this.”

“Okay. It’s 5:33 a.m., which means it’s almost time that I should be waking up and starting to get ready for work. So if you’ll just give me that prescription for the headache, I’ll be on my way.”

“You know I can’t do that. You can leave after forty-eight hours, provided that the doctor okays your release.”

“Then how about if you tell me what you’ve done with my clothes? You won’t be back for another hour, right?” He gritted his teeth, trying to block out the pain. If he left now, no one would ever know. Thankfully, because he had no identification with him, they hadn’t called his mother or sister. Soon, he could be back to work like nothing ever happened.

The nurse made a tick mark on the chart, not taking his hint. Then she lowered the clipboard and looked him in the eyes. “We’ve increased the sarcasm factor. That’s good, it means you’re alert. Do you know where you are?”

“Let me guess. I’m not in Kansas anymore?”

Her answering scowl almost made Russ laugh, but he knew the pain wouldn’t be worth it. “I’m in Wake-ville, Washington, at Memorial Hospital, and unless you moved me when I wasn’t watching, I’m in the South Wing, room 347, bed C.”

“More sarcasm.” She made another tick mark on his chart and smiled sweetly at him. “You’re doing fine. I’ll be back in an hour and we’ll do this again for the last time. Then the doctor will see you. If there are no changes, he’ll give you that prescription, and you can rest until tomorrow night when we can let you go home. I’ll lower the bed again now, and you can try to get some sleep.”

“Oh, sure,” he grumbled. The pain of the headache and the jabbing ache in his lungs every time he inhaled didn’t allow him to relax, never mind actually sleep. Besides, it was morning. He’d never been able to sleep in daylight no matter how tired he was. His current level of discomfort and noise of the hospital as it woke up would make sleep an impossibility. The only way he would fall asleep would be in the familiarity of his own bed—and heavily medicated.

“Then would you like to read the morning newspaper? I can hear the cart coming down the hall.”

Russ opened his mouth, about to ask what day it was, but fortunately thought better of it, just in case Nurse Drill Sergeant thought it was a bad sign. Yesterday, the day of his accident, had been Monday. He’d been unconscious only a few hours, so today must be Tuesday.

“I can’t buy a paper because I don’t have any money. My wallet never made it here. Remember?” Also, as much as he did want to read the morning paper, he feared that straining to see the small print would make his headache worse.

The nurse nodded. “You’re right, I remember now. But it’s okay, because you have a visitor. Keep it under twenty minutes, please.”

A woman now stood in the doorway. “Hello? Russ? Can I come in?” Without waiting for a reply, she walked in as the nurse walked out.

Russ’s head swam. He didn’t recognize her.

He knew he’d received quite a blow to the head, not to mention the rest of his body. But now, rather than simply being annoyed with his current condition, he experienced a touch of panic. Was he in worse condition than the nursing staff had led him to believe?

The last thing he could remember was sitting at his desk, working, fighting with the new program he was trying to install on his computer. The next thing he remembered was waking up in the hospital and a doctor rushing over to him. They had told him it was within normal parameters that he couldn’t remember the details of the fall or the trauma leading up to it, but if he’d sustained a permanent brain injury, he didn’t know if he could deal with that.

The woman pulled a chair to the side of the bed and lowered herself into it without taking her eyes off him. “How are you feeling?”

He stared into her face, struggling for recall. She appeared to be a couple of years younger than him, in her late twenties. Her hair was in a blunt cut, medium brown and sporting a streak of bright red on one side—something he definitely should have remembered. Her green eyes bordered on gray, and they were bright and alert, and curious, fixed on his face—compelling him to maintain that eye contact rather than check her out.

When she’d walked into the room he’d seen that she had a slender build, yet when studying her face, he thought she had rather round cheeks. She was pretty, despite the strange hair color. She wore a little makeup, just enough to highlight full lips, along with a bit of mascara that added length to the longest eyelashes he’d ever seen.

She appeared to know him, but he didn’t remember her.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Do I know you?”

“Technically, we’ve met before, but I can’t blame you for not remembering me.” She dug through her purse and placed his wallet on the small table beside the bed. “I found this stuck in the slot where the windshield wipers are when I got home last night. I guess it got stuck there when you fell. I hope you don’t mind that I looked inside. I had to know your name so they would let me in. My name is Marielle McGee, and that was my car you landed on.”

His vision lost focus as he struggled to remember details. All he knew was what the nurses had told him—that he’d fallen out a window and, instead of landing on the hard cement, he’d landed on a car, which had made the landing less serious than it might have been. While short-term memory loss was common for the injury he’d sustained, it still worried him.

“I don’t know what to say. You probably saved my life.”

“Oh… Well… Speaking of that, do you want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”

“It’s okay,” he said as he brushed his index finger over the bandage that covered his nose. “I’ve been told that no permanent damage was done.”

Her tone softened. “Don’t worry. I’m a volunteer counselor at my church. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger about things like this.”

“About things like…what?”

“Problems. Depression. Despondency. Things that would drive a person to acts of desperation.”

“Desperation?” The pain in his head worsened as he realized what she meant. “Please don’t worry. I don’t remember what happened, but I’m not suicidal. My life is good. I have a good job, a nice home, and I can assure you that I didn’t do anything that drastic because of a broken heart. I’ve been much too busy to get involved in a relationship—”

His voice caught. Thinking of work, a shadow of a memory flashed through his mind. For some reason, he’d gotten up and walked to the window. He couldn’t remember why. But all jokes aside, he knew that he wouldn’t kill himself out of frustration with his computer. Besides, statistically, jumping out of a window wasn’t usually fatal unless it was the seventh story or higher.

“Do you believe in God, Russ?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“I mean as more than just the Creator of the universe. Do you believe in God, who loves all the children He’s created, including you?”

“Yeah.” He just hadn’t been to church lately. Actually, he hadn’t been to church for a long time. On a few occasions, he’d weakened and gone back, but he didn’t know why. Going to church or not going to church didn’t make any difference. Nothing got better, nothing changed. He’d struggled and worked hard, and he had been faithful, but God hadn’t given him any breaks in his youth, and God didn’t give him any breaks now. God made him work, and work hard for everything he had. It seemed God never considered his debt repaid.

He cleared his throat. “Please don’t worry. I’m fine. In fact, I’m anxious to get back to work. I’m a Web designer, and I’m in the middle of designing a big interactive Web site for an important client.”

“Oh.” She paused, then shuffled something in her hand. “It’s just that, well, the newspaper…” Her voice trailed off.

“The newspaper?”

“The newspaper is saying something very different than what you’re telling me right now.”

Russ gulped. “You mean there was a reporter there?”

Marielle nodded. “Yes. And it appears they’ve done quite a bit of research, first on the history and infrastructure of the old building, and also…on you.”

She held the newspaper out to him, and Russ’s hand trembled as he accepted it. Was it possible the newspaper knew more about what had happened than he did?

Chapter Two

Marielle watched Russ’s eyes widen, then squeeze shut after he read the front-page headline: Near Death at Downtown Office.

“I don’t believe this….” He opened his eyes and continued reading. “I’m not nearly dead. It was only the third floor! And they’re being really vague about whether I jumped or fell. I don’t remember what happened, but I certainly didn’t jump.” He reached up to touch the bridge of his nose, but stopped when his fingers brushed the bandage. “They even quoted a few people I work with as saying they didn’t know what happened.” He lowered the paper to his lap. “In one sentence the reporter insinuated that I jumped, and then in the next says it’s unconfirmed. How can they print this?”

Marielle looked into his face. All the training and courses she’d taken for her position as volunteer counselor at her church told her that he was sincere. He really hadn’t jumped, and she’d been worried about him for nothing. It was simply an accident.

“Because sensationalism sells, I guess.”

“I suppose. The truth is often boring.”

A silence hung between them for a few minutes.

“I guess you’re here to make arrangements for your car. I probably left a pretty big dent. May I see your estimate?”

Marielle felt her cheeks heat up. “I haven’t got an estimate yet. I was busy last night, and I’m on my way to work right now. I actually came just to see how you were, and to return your wallet. I had better get going or I’m going to be late.”

“Let me give you my phone number, then, and call me as soon as you know. Would you give me your phone number, too?”

“Sure.”

“I want you to know that if you hadn’t been there, I would have been seriously injured, maybe even permanently disabled. I know your car was damaged. I don’t want to be more of an inconvenience to you than I’ve already been. If you go to your insurance agent and this raises your rates for the next few years, I want to know, and I’d like to pay the difference.”

Marielle stood and smiled. “Thanks. That’s really nice of you.”

She turned to go, but she’d only taken one step when a man of average build and height who looked to be in his mid-forties appeared in the doorway. When he saw her standing beside the bed, he quickly turned his head to check the number on the door, then continued inside. His polite smile, easy demeanor and friendly brown eyes immediately made Marielle feel relaxed.

When he turned to Russ his smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. “Hi, Russ. You’ve looked better.”

“Thanks. I needed to hear that. I’ve felt better, too. Grant, this is, uh, Mary Ellen, is it?”

“You’re close. It’s Marielle. But don’t worry about it. It happens all the time.”

“I’m so sorry. Grant, this is Marielle, the woman whose car I landed on. Marielle, this is Grant, my boss.”

Grant immediately grasped her hand. “I’m so glad to meet you. I asked about you when the ruckus died down, but no one knew who you were, or where you came from. You were like Cinderella, disappearing at the stroke of midnight. You were in the paper with your statement—but then things get so busy. And the calls…”

Marielle smiled sympathetically. “I’ve had lots of questions about yesterday, too.”

“I want to do something to make it up to you. After all, Russ is my best employee. But now that we’re face to face, I wish I knew what to suggest.”

“I was simply put in the right place at the right time. If you have to thank someone, then thank Brittany. It was because of her that I had to park to answer my cell phone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to work. It was nice meeting you both.”

Russ and Grant looked up at the clock on the wall. “It’s not even six o’clock,” Russ said. “You have a very early start to your day. What do you do?”

“It’s just an office job. I work in accounting. I start at six and get off at two-thirty. But I start early because I go someplace else afterward.”

“You mean you have a second job?”

Marielle froze. Second job? Not anymore.

She shuffled her purse under her arm, pretending she needed to concentrate on it so that she didn’t have to look at the two men while she spoke. “It’s not a job. I volunteer for a youth program that teaches underprivileged kids computer skills so they’ll know how to use computers for more than just memorizing the cheat codes from the latest online games.”

Grant nodded. “Well, good luck, and it was nice meeting you. I hope we can…” Grant’s voice trailed off.

Before Marielle could walk away, he wrapped his fingers around her arm, preventing her from leaving. “Wait. If you won’t take anything personally for what you did, can I make a donation to your organization?”

Marielle looked up at the clock again. “That would be great. We’ve had a bunch of new members join the group. We need to get more equipment and there’s never enough money.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking of upgrading some of my office’s computers. Instead of trading them in, how about if I donate them to your group? It sounds like you could really use them. Let me give you my card so we can set up an appointment.”

Marielle wanted to be on time, but at the mention of the donation, she knew her boss at her day job would excuse her for being a few minutes late. At times Marielle brought in some of the older and more promising teens for summer relief work or other odd jobs at her company. More computers at the youth center meant that down the line she could bring in more experienced helpers—a definite bonus for her boss.

She smiled. “That would be great.”

“Think of this as my way of making things up to you.” Grant turned to Russ as he reached into his back pocket. “I think the first computer that we’ll replace will be yours.”

Russ grinned in response. “I won’t argue with that. When I get back to work, I’ll make sure all my backups are current.”

Grant froze, his hand resting on his pocket. “You’re not coming back to work anytime soon. You need some time off.”

“I thought you came here to take me back to work, since I don’t have my car here.”

“I came to check on you, then tomorrow I’ll return to drive you home—and leave you there.”

“But what about that project?”

The two men stared at each other as if she weren’t there, which she wished were true. She wanted Grant’s card, but she needed to get to her own job.

Grant’s hand remained motionless on his back pocket as he spoke. “You’re my best employee, Russ, but you work too much. Everyone needs some time off, and you’re taking yours now.”

“I can’t just sit at home and stare at the walls all day, knowing my work is piling up. I’ll go insane.”

“Then, tell you what. If you’re really up to it, why don’t you help the nice young lady out at the youth center? Help her make room for the new computers—starting with yours.”

“But…”

Marielle had to interrupt. “Excuse me. I hate to be rude but I really have to get to work. If you can give me your card, I’ll call you later today.”

“Of course. Sorry.” Grant pulled his wallet out, removed the card and handed it to her. “Call me anytime.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“Wait. You didn’t give me your card.”

“I don’t have cards. But don’t worry, I’ll call you.”

Marielle quickly left the room, but as she walked out she heard Grant say, “Marielle, huh? Interesting name.”

Marielle’s feet skidded to a halt.

“Yeah,” Russ replied. “It’s different.”

“This is just like how she left yesterday.” A trace of laughter colored Grant’s voice. “Except you sure don’t look like our Cinderella’s Prince Charming with your face like that. Are you ever going to be handsome again?” Grant broke out into a full laugh.

“Forget it,” Russ grumbled, with no trace of amusement in his voice. “I’m not her Prince Charming, and I’m not going to be her Prince Charming. I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not interested.”

Marielle gulped air, along with a good portion of her pride, as she turned around and hurried out.

While she definitely wasn’t looking for another Prince Charming, it hurt to be so easily brushed off. Again. Maybe Michael—the man she had thought was her Prince Charming—was right, and the problem really was her, after all.

But this time, instead of dwelling over her hurt, Marielle chose to be happy that she was getting more computers for the youth center. That was all that mattered in her life right now. It might have been a rather unpleasant way to get them, but God had provided an opportunity to help a bunch of kids who needed more than their parents could give them in order to have a brighter future. It was her duty to follow through—whatever Prince Not-So-Charming felt about her.

For now, she had more important things to do than worry about him.

Chapter Three

By the time Russ made it up the first flight of stairs on the way to his third-floor office he knew he’d made a mistake, but it was too late to turn back. Usually he enjoyed the exercise. Today, he would have given nearly anything for the choice of an elevator—something the older building where his office was located didn’t have. Every step up jarred his ribs, but if he took any more painkillers, he wouldn’t be able to think straight or drive safely.

He told himself that he had a good reason for what he was doing. The sooner he could clear out his old computer, the sooner he could get a new one and get back to work. Even though it was midafternoon, that still gave him a couple of hours to catch up on what he’d missed with Tyler, his assistant, and then after everyone left, Russ would have the office to himself to work in peace and quiet. Then he didn’t have to worry that anyone would watch him suffer while he finished constructing the database and doing more work on the programming for Byron’s interactive Web site, which was his current project.

He doubted he could ever repay his debt to Marielle, but now he had one more thing for which he owed her. First she had been responsible for saving his life, and now she was responsible for his getting a new computer.

Russ didn’t like owing debts. He’d had enough of debts. The only debts he wanted to have were his mortgage and his car payments—manageable debts and nothing else.

By the time his hand touched the doorknob to the main office on the third floor, his chest hurt so much he was dizzy. He wanted to walk into the office looking like he was fine and justified in coming back to work, so he leaned against the wall until he could regain his bearings and prepare himself to face his workmates.

When he finally opened the door and entered the main office, everyone stopped their activity and stared at him. He smiled weakly as he walked past Brenda, the receptionist. She stood, and good manners dictated that he stop.

“Russ? What are you doing here? How are you feeling?”

Automatically he raised one hand to touch the bandage covering the bridge of his nose. He wrapped his other arm around his rib cage, just in case the support bandage covering his chest showed through his shirt. “I’m feeling better than I look. Where’s Grant?”

“He’s in your office,” replied Tyler. “With someone.”

“Good.” Grant was usually very prompt, and today was no exception. Already, Grant had the technician in there to discuss their needs for the new system.

Recovered from the climb and full of ideas, Russ opened the door to his private office and stepped inside.

“Hey, Grant! This is…” His smile faltered. “Marielle? What are you doing here?”

She turned around and smiled so brightly she nearly glowed.

“I was on my way to the youth center, so I thought I’d stop in and have a look at the computers.”

He glanced around the room. “Where’s the tech?”

Grant shook his head. “He was busy today. He’ll be here tomorrow morning. By the way, what are you doing here? I thought you were taking the week off.”

“There are a few things I need to take care of, and I also thought I’d clear out my old computer. I always keep backups, but there is some other stuff I have to do.”

“You’ll be able to clear your data quickly, right?”

“You bet. I like to have everything organized.”

“Then I have an idea. Marielle is so excited—since you’re here, I think it would be a nice gesture to give her the first computer to take now. That would be yours.”

“Now?” He’d barely survived the trip up the stairs. He’d fully intended to sit at his desk for the last few hours of the day to work on his current project. If all he had to do was clear everything he’d already backed up the day of the accident, he would only have a few minutes’ worth of work.

He’d nearly killed himself to get into the office. He wanted to make being there worth the effort.

Grant studied him. “Did you ask your doctor about the wisdom of coming to work today?”

Russ kept his mouth shut. He knew what his doctor would have said, and Russ thought otherwise.

Marielle checked her watch. “I have to be at the youth center to open up. I’m so sorry. I know it always seems I don’t have time to chat, but I must go.”

Grant raised one palm. “Wait. Russ, if you’re itching to do something, why don’t you go to the youth center with Marielle? I’ve dug up some old versions of different graphics programs we’ve bought over the years. I think I’ll donate those, too. Can you go through the box, grab what you think would be best, and we’ll meet you at the car?”

Grant turned back to Marielle, then stopped and looked back at Russ. “After that, go home and don’t come back to the office until next week.”

“Uh, sure… But that will leave you shorthanded. And I haven’t seen Jessie, either. Where is she, by the way? I thought she was supposed to be in.” Russ turned to Marielle. “Jessie is a contract employee who was working on a special project with me.”

Grant nodded. “I tried to call, but all I got was her voice mail. It’s strange that she didn’t come in, but then, I’m not paying her by the hour, so she can work anywhere she wants, just so she meets her deadlines.”

Russ turned back to Grant. “That may be so, but we were at a point where we had to work on this phase together, from here, because you don’t have multiple licenses for the programs we need right now.” He turned back to Marielle and pointed to Grant’s office. “The program we need is on the server in Grant’s office. We have the computers in the office linked, but we can’t access it remotely. The rest of the work has to be done here, and we’re on that tight deadline for Byron.”

Grant frowned. “Speaking of our client, he e-mailed me earlier today asking me to put a temporary hold on everything.”

Russ spun toward his boss so fast his ribs ached. “I don’t understand. What happened?”

“I don’t know. But since the project is set back, this is a really good time for you to take the computer to the youth center before another big project comes up.”

“I guess.” Before he could say any more, a few of the men from the office appeared, and within minutes, all the components of his computer were gone.

He made his selection of program CD-ROMs, and then made his way downstairs. Fortunately the trip down was easier than the trip up, and he soon joined Grant and Marielle on the ground level. When they saw him, the conversation stopped until he was at Grant’s side.

“I know you have other things to do,” Grant said, “but I’m not kidding when I say I don’t want you to get any ideas about coming back to work too soon. Take tomorrow and sleep in, and if you’re feeling restless, you can go straight to the youth center in the afternoon and meet Marielle there to show her how to use the programs. In fact, I want you to take Friday off, too. That way you can have more time to teach her.” He turned to Marielle. “Most of those programs have a help file, so you’ll be fine after he walks you through everything.”

“But…” Russ knew what Grant was trying to do. Doing something for a charity was good publicity. Russ would rather have worked on other projects, but hopefully a couple of additional days off wouldn’t matter. If this was how Grant wanted him to help, so be it. “Okay,” he sighed. “I can do that.”

“Good. Have fun.”

Russ gritted his teeth. Fun wasn’t going to happen. Spending time in a charity organization with a bunch of underprivileged teenaged hoodlums was the last thing he wanted to do.

He’d spent all of his growing-up years in that environment. The grueling poverty. The constant struggles. The pressure to look cool while deep inside he felt helpless and desperate to escape. He’d worked long and hard to get out. He’d humbled himself and swallowed his pride and done everything his boss at the time had asked, even though his friends had looked down on him and called him weak and a pushover, and had ridiculed him. At that time all he had was his personal honor, and he believed God was on his side. He put in some very long hours and worked hard and did his best to please his employers—doing all the dirty work no one else would do, and taking his business courses at night school. When it came time to select the one person who could move out of the factory and into a supervisory position, Russ got the job, and the raise that went with it, and later, a good reference for a better job out of that neighborhood. At that point, he finally had a future, even with all his debts. It had taken until he was twenty-five, but he’d moved on and was out of the slums, never to sink to that level again.

Except that Grant had just told him to go back.

Russ could feel the pangs of his ulcer acting up, but he told himself that helping Marielle was a way to earn brownie points toward the promotion he so desperately wanted.

“Okay. I’ll do it. Let’s go.”

He got into his car and followed Marielle to the back of an old church building in a less-than-upscale area of the city.

As soon as Marielle got out of her car, four teenage boys wearing leather jackets and ripped jeans joined her. She pointed to the computer in the back seat. “Look what we’ve got!” she said as she unlocked the door.

The boys expressed their pleasure in current jargon that Russ made no attempt to follow, and carried everything into the building.

Russ trailed behind them through a large doorway, down a flight of stairs and into a large well-lit room with a dull tile floor. A few tables lined the far wall, and in each corner was a shelf in need of repair. An old wooden desk, piled with papers and books sat to the side of the door.

Russ turned to Marielle. “Is there always someone here waiting for you?”

She nodded. “I’m usually here a little sooner than this. I time it so I can arrive not long after they get off school. Many of them need a place that’s not an empty house. They’re all old enough to be left home alone, but that doesn’t mean it’s best.”

Russ stared at her. At that age, every day he’d gone home to an empty apartment and often he’d ended up doing things he shouldn’t have been doing. He’d almost started on a downward spiral like all his friends, but at the last minute had realized that he had to do something right that second if he wanted to escape the trap and make something out of his life.

By the time he realized what would happen if he didn’t get his act together, it had still been too late to do what he really wanted, which was get a scholarship for university. He’d already messed up his grades too much by focusing on his immediate needs: his minimum-wage job and trying to fit in with those he thought were his friends, instead of studying. Also, by then he had a reputation to live up to—or to live down to.

Still, he’d done more than most of his friends. He was the first to have a job and stick with it. He made up his mind to do what it took to pass, and actually graduated from high school, got a student loan and went on to business college.

Marielle smiled at him, breaking him out of his memories.

“Everyone else will be here soon. We’d better get started.”

Marielle stood back to watch the flurry. Russ had picked a table in the corner of the room and was setting up the computer. As she’d expected, the boys gathered around him, asking a million questions while the girls stayed with Marielle watching from across the room.

“I’ll bet he’ll be a real hottie when he gets that thing off his face,” a female voice whispered behind Marielle, then broke into giggles. “And if he has a bump on his nose from it being broken, that’s so sexy.”

Marielle turned around to see Brittany. Today, Brittany was wearing her trendy clothes way too tight, and again in Marielle’s opinion, she was wearing too much makeup for a sixteen-year-old girl.

“Forget it, Brittany. I’m not interested.”

Brittany giggled again. “Why not? He’s so handsome, and he seems smart, too.”

“Being smart isn’t everything,” Marielle replied. And she’d certainly had it with handsome.

She’d seen enough of Russ to know what he was really about, and she knew the type well. She’d seen the same traits in Michael. At first, she’d admired him, and before long, she’d fallen in love. He was dedicated, and seemed to have admirable goals. He had promised to work hard at his career to provide a good future for both of them. He had had big plans and he aimed high. At first she’d helped—even supported him while he worked part time and went to college part time, all in order to achieve those goals that were supposed to benefit them as a couple. She’d almost driven herself to exhaustion to do it, because she loved him.

But still, nothing was good enough. When she said she needed some downtime to see her friends and church family, whom she’d been ignoring for Michael, he told her it wasn’t the right time. Even though he worked long hours, Michael wasn’t content with what they had, and he always had to work harder to get more. No matter how much money he made, nothing would satisfy him, he always wanted bigger and better and more expensive. First, he wanted a bigger house and a better new car—for both of them, he claimed. But because they weren’t married, he was the one living in the house, and he was the one driving the expensive new car. Soon he began to forsake everything but activities that could earn him more money to get an even bigger house and an even better car.

And then, three days before what was supposed to be their wedding day, Michael called it off, leaving her to phone everyone and cancel. Within a few hours of announcing this, he ran off with a woman he worked with—a woman who also wanted the biggest and best, and the latest and the greatest out of life, a woman who had the very college education that Marielle had given up to work two jobs so that Michael could go to college instead. Elaine was exactly like Michael, in feminine form.

Marielle vowed she would never go through that again. Maybe one day she might be able to take a chance and open her heart, but when she did, it wouldn’t be to a man who was driven to work until he nearly dropped, but to someone who could be content with what God had given him.

As she watched Russ boot up the computer after he had everything connected, she noted that especially included a man so obsessed with work that he was back on the job without taking sufficient time to recuperate after a three-story fall.

But for now, Russ was an answer to one particular prayer. The center needed more computers. She’d had such success with her outreach ministry in the community that she had doubled the anticipated number of regular attendees in her ragtag group. God had provided for her needs, so she would do whatever was necessary to help the teens who needed it.

One of the boys smacked Russ on the back as the prompt showing that the first program had been successfully installed flashed on the screen. The pain of the impact showed clearly on Russ’s face.

Marielle cringed on his behalf. Instead of working, Russ should have been in bed. Resting. Healing.

His priorities were all wrong. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that he wasn’t here because of a burning need to help the underprivileged teens. He was only here because his boss had told him to come, and as a step toward getting a new computer for himself faster.

She wasn’t impressed.

A male voice broke into her thoughts. “Have you seen all these programs?”

She spun around to see Jason, her most promising member, sitting on the floor picking through the boxes.

Jason held up one of the program CDs. “Look at this graphics program! Most people have to take a course for it. And we’re getting it for free!”

“Course?” Marielle said. “What kind of course?”

Jason stood. “A couple of the kids in my physics class are taking it at night. It’s four weeks, and it’s too expensive for my mom to pay for.” He glanced over at Russ. “Will he be able to teach this to us?”

“I think he’s going to teach it to me tomorrow, and then I’m going to teach it to all of you.”

Jason blinked. “You’re kidding. Right?”

Marielle watched Russ push the chair back and stand.

“That’s it for tonight,” he said. “But I’ll be back tomorrow to show you how to work some of these programs.”

Jason edged closer to Marielle. “It’s taking Josh and Sara four weeks to learn that one.”

Marielle gulped. “I’m sure it won’t take me that long.” She hoped…

Chapter Four

Marielle pulled into the church parking lot earlier than usual, but she was still too late. Another vehicle was parked in the otherwise empty lot. A shiny new SUV, something far more expensive than any of the other cars that would have been parked in this neighborhood.

She parked beside it, noting, as she got out and walked past, the blinking red security light, as well as the locking bar mechanism bolted to the steering wheel.

She almost felt like giving it a shove, just to see what happened. Almost.

Russ stood waiting for her at the basement door.

“You could have gone in through the front. I told Pastor Tom you were coming and what you looked like.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t want to start until some of the kids were here anyway.”

Marielle lowered her voice in case one of them came up behind her. “Don’t ever call them kids. They’re at that sensitive point where they’re too old to be kids, but not old enough to be young adults. Some of them have to make life-changing decisions, right now or soon, and I’m trying to guide them to make the right ones. I can’t do anything to jeopardize what they’re doing here.”

She wondered if it was her imagination, but she thought he cringed at her censure.

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Let’s go inside.”

She began the process of unlocking the door while he stood behind her.

“I thought you said the pastor was here.”

“He is here,” she replied. “Sometimes his wife drops him off when she needs the car.”

She couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him over her shoulder. Just as she had suspected, he was checking out the old building.

What he saw wasn’t exactly pristine. The building had probably been impressive in its day, but now it was badly in need of repair. The church board had decided the pastor needed the money to live on more than they needed the building to look nice. The old stone front definitely could stand to be sandblasted, which they couldn’t afford. But because of a couple of volunteers, the brightly colored stained-glass windows on either side of the steeple were always washed and bright.

Yet still some of those beautiful windows needed work. A few of the glass pieces were scratched from vandals throwing stones, and the sills and edges were showing deterioration due to weather over the years.

The mechanism used to ring the old bell inside the tower hadn’t been functional for years, but because so many of the nearby residents didn’t attend church, the community had blocked all efforts the church board made to city council for funding to restore it as a heritage site.

The cement steps in the front had been chipped and broken in places, but that had been relatively easy for members of the congregation to repair, although the new cement didn’t match the original color or texture. The most important thing, though, was that the steps were safe. They were the only part of the building that met current earthquake standards. Still, Marielle thought the building looked stately, and respected it for its history.

Where they were now entering, however, wasn’t so regal. Like the rest of the humble neighborhood, the back of the church, where no one of importance usually ventured, wasn’t kept up. The windows were too high to be reached with ease—except by a special extended ladder—so they weren’t washed, and no one cared about the lower windows leading to the basement. The original back door had been made of wood, but many years before Marielle started to attend that church, vandals had damaged it beyond repair. Now a stark metal door, layered with different colors of paint to cover graffiti, took its place.

Just as Marielle pushed the big door open, Russ turned and looked at her car. “Are you going to get that roof fixed soon? I’d like to take care of it.”

“I don’t have time during the week. It will have to wait until the weekend. One of the parents of one of my boys works at an auto body shop. He said he’ll give me a good deal.”

“Okay.”

Once inside, Marielle locked her purse inside her desk and joined Russ at his former computer. “What do you have to do to it today?”

He turned in the chair in which he had seated himself, and she noticed that he winced with the movement.

“Not a lot. Today I’ll install the rest of the programs I brought, and then I’ll show you and everyone else how to use them.”

“I thought I should let you know, I don’t think I’m as good with computers as your boss thinks I am. My being here has more to do with my availability and willingness to do the job than my programming skills.”

“Apparently, I’ll be back tomorrow, but if you need more help we could get together on the weekend and I can give you a better tutorial.”

She had plans for the weekend with a girlfriend, but Marielle was almost sure that Lorraine wouldn’t mind. Lorraine understood what she was doing with the teen outreach program, even if she didn’t have time to participate herself. “That’s a great idea, thanks.”

Right on schedule, the teens began to arrive, starting with Jason, who was always the first. Marielle waited for fifteen minutes, and when all her core group was accounted for, Russ began installing the first program, showing everyone where to find the tutorials and help files.

This time, instead of standing back, Marielle stayed close by, also watching and learning. She wasn’t confident that she would be of much help if anyone needed anything, but she wanted to do her best when the time came.

“Hello? Russ? Are you in here?”

All heads turned toward the door to watch Russ’s boss enter.

“Grant? What are you doing here?”

Grant smiled. “I wanted to see the place, so I decided this would be a good time to bring a few more computers.”

“Now? You brought them already?”

Grant made eye contact with some of the bigger boys. “Yup. Four more are in my car. Who is going to help carry them inside?”

The teens made a beeline for the exit. The boys dashed outside after Grant; the girls stopped at the doorway to watch, whispered among themselves, then walked outside, too.

Which left Marielle and Russ alone in the room.

Russ ran his fingers through his hair as he stared at the empty doorway. “I didn’t expect this. I guess I won’t be installing the programs today.” He turned back to her. “The trouble is that I don’t know what’s been done and if they’re ready.”

The boys appeared through the door one by one, like a row of ants, each carrying either a monitor or a tower, the girls each carrying a keyboard and a mouse or bundles of cables. Grant brought up the rear, empty-handed. “That’s it for today,” he said. “Let’s get started getting everything hooked up.”

Marielle, Russ, Grant, and the teens began the job of connecting the cables and positioning the computers on the desks.

“Do I assume that my computer as well as these other ones have now been replaced at the office?” Russ asked as he untangled cable.

Grant nodded as he tightened a connection. “Yes. We got half today, the other half will be coming Monday. But don’t try to sneak in tomorrow. There’s nothing urgent happening at the office anyway. Jessie finally called in sick yesterday afternoon, and today she didn’t show up.”

Russ crossed his arms over his chest, taking in a deep breath when he pressed his arms against his ribs, confirming to Marielle, as if she needed it, that Russ really wasn’t in any shape to be going back to work.

“That’s odd,” Russ said. He turned to Marielle. “Jessie works for us on contract, so she doesn’t get paid for sick time. She tends to come to work when she’s sick, even if she should have stayed in bed.” He turned back to Grant. “Jessie must be really sick to stay home. Did she say what was wrong?”

“Actually, no. Yesterday she left a message on my voice mail, and she spoke really quickly. I tried calling her back, but I got her voice mail. I had expected her to call again today if she wasn’t going to be in….” Grant shrugged. “It’s not like her not to check in. I tried calling her again after the tech called, but I got her voice mail again. Monday we’ll be busy setting up the second set of new computers. That means you don’t have to be there. I’m not sure about Jessie. We’ll have to wait for her to call me back.”

Russ didn’t respond, but as Marielle watched, his face paled.

She leaned toward him. “Russ? What’s wrong?”

He lowered his head and pressed his fingers into his temples. “I thought I was over this headache, but I can’t seem to shake it.”

Grant stood, hovering as Russ remained seated. “Which is another reason you need to take some time off. I did a little research yesterday, and recurring headaches is a common side effect of a serious concussion. Consider yourself off for a week on medical leave. The accident happened on Monday, so you’re off the rest of the week.”

“But—”

Grant raised one hand to prevent Russ from arguing. “I mean it. I’ve been watching you work your tail off every day, and I don’t know offhand how much vacation time I owe you, all I know is that it’s a lot. You say you can’t remember what happened, but I wonder if part of the reason you feel like that is that you’re overstressed. I don’t want you coming in to the office until next week, and until then I want you to only spend a couple of hours a day here if you feel up to it, and that’s it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to take my son to a ball game tonight. You can handle it from here, right?”

Grant apparently didn’t expect a response, because he didn’t wait for one. Marielle wanted to call out after him that his expectations could have been one of the reasons Russ was overworked and overstressed, but she remained silent. It wasn’t any of her business.

Russ leaned to one side, reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of white pills. “Where can I get some water? The doctor said to take these if the headache came back, and wow, has it ever come back.”

“There’s a fountain over there, by the washrooms.”

Russ stood, then sank back into the chair. “I can’t take these. I have to drive home later.” He returned the pills to his pocket, then returned his attention to the computer as he began the process of putting it back together. The tightness in his face showed how he was trying to fight the pain.

“You don’t have to do this. It can wait until tomorrow.”

He winced as he lowered himself to his hands and knees. “I’d rather do it now and get it over with,” he said as he crawled under the desk. She heard a sharp intake of breath as he leaned all the way to the back to connect the keyboard to the tower. “Besides, I’d rather not drive in traffic with a headache like this. It will pass.”

He backed out slowly, then returned to the chair. His face was even paler than it had been earlier.

“Would you like to lie down for a few minutes? I’m not exactly sure what to do with the program, but I can follow the prompts and call if something happens.”

“I’m fine,” he said, although the way his hands were shaking told her otherwise.

“You still don’t remember what happened that day, do you?”

He stopped his work and turned to her. “No, I don’t. I just keep seeing Jessie’s face, almost like in a fog, not clear but I know it’s her. Everything else is blank. I remember sitting at my desk, and getting up for some reason that keeps evading me, and then the next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital with the nurses and a doctor hovering over me. The doctor told me that holes in a person’s memory sometimes happen and just to give it time, but that’s easier said than done. It bothers me.”

“I can only imagine.” As much as she didn’t think too highly of his overwork ethics, she didn’t want him to suffer. Memories of his face and his expression as he lay on the hood of her car still haunted her. A number of days had passed already, and she knew he was fine—or at least better than the alternative.

He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

Marielle smiled. “I think it’s because I have an honest face.” Aside from the fact that she liked helping people, all her life, people had found her easy to talk to, which made a difference in her work as a volunteer counselor—especially with the youths. They trusted her because she did her best, without being pushy, to help the youths take a straight path as they chose the direction they would go into adulthood. Russ was an adult, but regardless of how she personally felt about someone who was a chronic workaholic, he was there in front of her. If he needed someone in a difficult time, she would do the same for him as she would for anyone else.

“Yes, you do,” he said, smiling, as he reached for a loose mouse.

“If you want, I can pray with you about it. I believe in miracles, and I believe that you being here is a miracle in itself.”

“No thanks,” he muttered. “I’ve used up my quota of miracles.”

Marielle’s breath caught. “Surely you don’t believe that.”

He held out one hand. “Can you pass me that cable over there?”

She stared at him, and when nothing more was said, she handed him the cable. He couldn’t have been more clear about not wanting to talk—or pray—if he’d slammed a door in her face.

He made his way down the row of computers, one by one, reinstalling operating systems. Each time he left a chair, one of the youths slid in to finish off the process or report on the progress.

As he worked, he chatted pleasantly with all the youths, although it was quickly apparent that the boys were interested in the computers, and most of the girls were interested in Russ.

Six o’clock came before Marielle even realized it. “That was the fastest three hours I’ve ever spent here,” she said, looking up at the clock on the wall.

“Is that how long you run the drop-in? Three hours every day?”

“Yes. It’s meant to be a place for them to go after school. We also run on Friday evenings, so they won’t get into trouble.”

“You come here Friday night, too?”

“Yes. We try to get volunteers to help, but most of the time it’s just me. I wish we could run the center on Saturday, but I just can’t do it all by myself and we can’t get enough people to commit. The Sunday school uses this room on Sunday morning, but when the service is over, I open it up for the youths for an hour. That’s the only time they’re allowed to play online games here. I picked Sunday because they have to respect the Sabbath and not play violent games or those that encourage illegal activities on Sundays in God’s house.” She grinned. “It’s worked so far.”

“You’re here six days a week?”

“Yes. I feel this is important, so, as they say, I put my money where my mouth is.”

She thought he was going to tell her she spent too much time at the center, and she was ready to give him a strong rebuttal. If Marielle read Russ right, all he did was work. At least what she chose to spend her free time doing was to benefit others.

But after a few seconds of silence, he said, “I’ll be back tomorrow then, at three o’clock.”

He walked with her to the door, and after they exited, waited while she locked up. They made their way to the cars, and without saying anything else, he flicked the remote lock for his SUV, removed the bar and drove away rather fast, Marielle thought, for being in a parking lot.

As the taillights disappeared around the corner, Marielle couldn’t help but wonder what had happened that Russ figured he didn’t have any more miracles left.

The next afternoon Russ pulled into the parking lot right on schedule. Marielle’s car, dented roof and all, was already there, along with another older model sedan that had seen better days. He applied and locked the bar on the steering wheel, slid out, hit the remote switch to arm the alarm system, then walked toward the building.

Church or not, he’d seen too many buildings like this when growing up—it was both old and run-down—and he didn’t ever want to see another one, unless it was on a heritage Web site he was designing for a client.

This would have been his last choice, hands down, of any place he wanted to be. He’d almost told his boss that he really was going to take his doctor’s advice, lie down and not leave the house for a couple of days.

But Russ had given his word that he would get the computers set up, and Grant had given his word as the corporate sponsor that the job would be completed. Russ was obligated. A man was only as good as his word, and he’d given it. Besides, he had yet another debt to pay, and God would have him make good on it.

So here he was, the third day in a row.

On the third day, He rose, according to the Scriptures.

The words echoed in his head. Russ had heard that statement over and over when he was growing up, when his mother had dragged him to church. He’d believed it then, and he still did. Except now, Russ could look at it more realistically.

He glanced up at the tarnished steeple. God was out there, all right, but God had only made a difference in his life once, and he’d been paying for it ever since.

He knew all about trusting God and His miracles. Since then, Russ had grown a little older and a whole lot wiser.

Russ did all he could so he wouldn’t ever have to pay again, and until his recent incident at the window, he’d had everything under control. For the past few years he’d been able to move forward with his life without owing anyone, including God. He’d worked, and he’d worked hard, and he was successful.

When he walked into the basement meeting room, he found Marielle sorting stacks of colored paper into piles, each accompanied by a ruler and a few miscellaneous pieces of white paper already cut into odd shapes. She made quite a comical picture, like she was getting ready for little kids, not a group of rough and rowdy teens.

He scanned the vacant computers, then looked back at Marielle. “What in the world are you doing?”

“I got a call from a friend who leads the Sunday school. The preschool level teacher was called away on a family emergency and they need someone to take over Sunday’s class. I’m going to ask one of the girls to help me, but first we need to cut out a bunch of shapes so the kids can glue them together. They’re too small to cut things accurately, and I’m not sure how good they are at gluing, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“You do this,” Russ said, extending one arm to encompass the youth center room, “and you’re going to teach the preschool on Sunday, too?”

“It needs to be done and there’s no one else, so we have to make do. How are you feeling today?”

“A little better. I can’t believe how long I slept. It must be the medication. I don’t usually sleep over six hours, especially not on a weekday. Here comes Jason—I’d better get started.”

But instead of joining him with the group at the computer, Jason sat with the girls who were cutting out colored shapes, guided by the white papers Marielle had already cut out, which Russ had figured out were templates.

Russ left what he was doing and joined the preschool table. The only chair available was in the center of a group of girls, so he stood behind Jason and rested one hand on Jason’s shoulder. “How’s it going, Jason?”

Jason turned and smiled up at him. “It would go better if you helped.” He motioned with his head toward the one empty chair. “We’ve got to have lots of stuff ready for the little kids to make sure they’re good and busy.”

Russ stared in disbelief as the girls shuffled out of the way, making room for him at the last empty chair, and worse, obligating him to join them.

One of the girls sighed as she slid one of the piles toward him. “I can’t believe that I’m spending Friday night cutting out colored paper.”

“It’s for a good cause,” Russ replied before anyone else could. If he had had someone to make him cut out paper circles on Friday nights, his youth would have been a lot different.

To his surprise, the rest of the boys filtered over to the table and began cutting out shapes, though they remained standing. When they finished, Russ figured they had the biggest pile of shapes, miscellaneous circles, squares, rectangles and triangles, he’d ever seen, and they’d finished in record time.

Marielle stood to address the group. “We did great. I think I’ll order pizza for those of you who are allowed to stay.”

In any other group, Russ would have expected all the teens to cheer, or at least show some enthusiasm, but in this group, showing appreciation was probably a sign of weakness. All they did was shrug, and no one said a word. At that age he’d had exactly the same bad attitude, until he saw that appreciating someone’s extra effort was a way to get noticed by the right people, which ultimately helped him accomplish what he had to do. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that these kids should have been more appreciative—after all, they were being rewarded.

“Do we get beer? It’s Friday night,” said a boy whose name Russ couldn’t remember.

Marielle crossed her arms. “You know better than to ask that. First, you’re underage, and second, this is a church.”

The boy grinned. “I had to try.”

“No, you didn’t. Now clean up and I’ll order. How many are staying?”

Not a single teen raised a hand, which of course Russ had expected. Marielle made a count just on slight nods or head shakes, then stopped and looked straight at him. “What about you, Russ? You helped cut the shapes, so you’re invited to stay, too.”

“Me?” He pressed one hand over his chest. “But…” He glanced around. The boys wouldn’t look at him, but a couple of the girls did, and he could see by their imploring expressions that they wanted him to stay. “Yes, but only under the condition that you let me help pay.”

Her relief couldn’t have been more pronounced if she had a neon sign above her head. “That would be great. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

One of the girls approached him. “My brother once got his nose broken, except he couldn’t go to the doctor. He’s got a big bump now. Are you going to have a bump?”

Russ raised one hand to the bandage still covering his nose. “Probably, but the doctor told me it would be minimal.” The bump he could handle. The doctor told him that while he was still out cold, they’d surgically straightened his nose, and because they’d done it right away, any permanent damage aside from the bump wouldn’t be noticeable. He was just required to keep the bandage on for ten days to brace his nose until it healed sufficiently. While the bandage was ugly, he knew the bruise beneath it was worse—plus his nose was still quite tender.

If he had to say prayers, the one thing he was thankful for was the company’s extensive medical insurance, something he hadn’t had before he started working for Grant.

While the pizza was being ordered, Russ returned to the computers, but before he entered the next command, his cell phone rang.

He first checked the call display. “Hi, Grant,” he answered. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t want to call you earlier in case you were sleeping, but were you at the office this morning, by any chance?”

Russ started keyboarding as he talked. “No. I actually spent the day in bed, just like the doctor ordered. Why?”

“When Brenda got here this morning, the door wasn’t locked and the alarm wasn’t set. Tyler said he was positive he locked up properly last night when he left. So we were wondering if you were in to get something this morning and forgot to lock the door.”

Russ frowned. He would never, ever forget to lock the office door. Because of where and how he grew up, he was unfailingly diligent with anything where theft could occur. He even locked his car door when he went from his driveway into the house between bags of groceries after dark. “No. I wasn’t there. Is anything missing?”

“No, nothing’s missing, but it was just odd. The cleaning staff must have forgotten to lock up. I’m staying late, so I’ll speak to the service tonight. There’s too much valuable equipment in here for mistakes like that.” He paused. “How’s everything going down there?”

Russ glanced at the row of computers, only one of which was turned on. “It could be better. But I have a few more days, so I’ll get everything done just fine. I guess I’ll see you Wednesday.”

“Great. Bye.”

Russ shut the phone and laid it on the table. He hit the prompt on the computer and waited for the next step of the installation.

Marielle sat in the chair beside him. “What’s wrong? You look worried.”

“The office was open this morning. Nothing was taken, but it’s got me thinking. What kind of security does this building have?”

“There are good, strong dead-bolt locks on every door.”

He turned around. “On the doors, yes, but I mean the windows. This is an old building. Have the original locks ever been replaced? Also, this is the basement, but there aren’t bars on the ground-level windows and there should be.”

“Bars? This is a church, not a prison.”

“Thieves still break into churches. The bars wouldn’t be to keep people in, but to keep unwanted guests out. Is there an alarm system for the building?”

“We can’t afford an alarm. Besides, except for books and Sunday school supplies, there isn’t really much to steal here. There aren’t any expensive or ornate decorations, the sound system is all attached to the wall, and what isn’t attached is old and well used. The treasurer takes the offering straight to the bank on Sunday mornings, so there’s never any money on the premises. There’s really nothing of value here.”

“But now you’ve got five computers, and four more coming on Monday. I’m sure word has already spread through the community that they’re here.”

“Probably.”

He rose, walked to the window and ran his hand along the bottom frame. “These are barely adequate. They should be enforced.”

“This is a heritage building and we’re on a low budget. Do you know how many windows there are in this building? I could ask a couple of the boys to go outside and see if they can figure out how to get in, to make sure the locks are secure.”

“Are you kidding? That’s just asking for trouble.” He clenched his jaw and stared at her, unable to believe that she would invite kids who were already potential thieves a chance to prove themselves. “I’ve got another idea. I’ll finish setting up the computers later. I have a little shopping to do, and I have to go quickly, before they close. Have you already phoned for the pizzas?”

“Yes.”

“Call them back. While I’m out I’ll pick them up, and that way we’ll get a discount. See you soon.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.