Rainbow's End (13 page)

Though she knew Keith was watching her, Jill busied herself at the sink. But she wasn't surprised when he pursued the subject.

“Maybe you should consider doing the show, Jill. I've only seen the half-finished pieces you're working on outside, and I'm no artist, but even I can tell that you have talent.”

“I can't, Keith.”

The silence in the room was broken only by the clink of
cutlery as she tidied up from her impromptu coffee break.
Please, Lord, let him drop the subject,
she prayed.
I'm not ready for anything like that.

“Would you consider it…I mean, I know it would be tough to do that alone. But if you had friends with you…Madeleine would be there, I'm sure. And if it would help, I could…well, I'd be happy to go with you. Honored, in fact.”

Her hands stilled, and a sudden rush of tenderness tightened her throat. This man's caring and compassion had done more to brighten her life in the past few weeks than all of the accolades she'd received for her work since launching her new career. But there was one piece of information he didn't know. And she had to share it—even though she was afraid to hear his response. She spoke without turning toward him.

“The show wouldn't be until December, Keith.”

The silence that greeted her comment was more telling than words. No quick reassurances that the timing didn't matter, that he'd be around. Not that she'd expected him to be, of course. All along, she'd known this was a temporary arrangement. That as soon as the studio was finished, he'd move on. But she hadn't had to confront it directly until now.

“I didn't realize that.” Keith wanted to tell her that he'd still be on the island in December. But in truth, he didn't know where he'd be by then.

“Of course not. It's okay. I appreciate the thought anyway.”

“Well…I guess I'll get back to work.”

The screen door opened, then closed, behind her. She listened as his steps echoed across the back porch and down the stairs, finally disappearing in the distance. Leaving her alone.

The way she would be again in the not too distant future.

 

He was back. Jill stopped sweeping and stared. For a second, she almost didn't believe her eyes when she saw Kyle emerge from the woods in the fading light. It had been almost two weeks since the upsetting visit from his grandfather. Two weeks with worry as her constant companion. On more than one occasion she'd picked up the phone to call Cindy, to plead with her to do a follow-up visit. But the woman seemed conscientious, and Jill felt confident she was already doing everything she could. Now, it didn't matter. Kyle was here!

She set the broom aside and took the steps at a run, calling over her shoulder to Keith, who was working late on the studio. “Kyle's here!”

But Jill's elation evaporated once she was close enough to get a good look at the little boy. Panic etched his features, and given his labored breathing, she suspected that he'd been running at full speed since leaving his house. There was a long scratch on his cheek, and his hands were scraped and bloody. Her protective instincts kicked in and she pulled him into the shelter of her arms, scanning the dark woods over his shoulder with trepidation as her heart kicked into double time.

“It's okay, Kyle. It's okay. You don't have to be afraid. You're safe here.” His thin chest was heaving, and she stroked his back, trying to calm him.

With surprising force, he pulled out of her embrace and clutched her arms, his grip loosening and tightening convulsively. His panic hadn't abated one iota. If anything, it had ratcheted up a notch. His mouth worked, as if he was trying to speak, and Jill smoothed his tousled hair back from his forehead, trying to control her own accelerating alarm. “What is it, Kyle? Can you tell me?”

His attention shifted over her shoulder, and Jill half turned to see Keith approaching. But this time the man's presence didn't seem to phase the boy. Kyle didn't budge, though his whole body was trembling.

“What's wrong?” Keith stopped a couple of feet away and dropped to their level, resting on the balls of his feet.

“I don't know.” Jill tried to figure out what could have caused such panic in the boy, but came up with only one explanation. “Is your grandfather following you, Kyle?”

He shook his head, then reached for her hand and tugged, urging her toward the woods.

Surprised, Jill turned to Keith. “I think he wants us to follow him.”

“I don't like that idea, considering our encounter with a certain gentlemen a couple of weeks ago. Why don't I…”

“Help!”

The single word came out in a croak, like a rusty hinge on a long-unused gate. Startled, Jill and Keith turned to Kyle in unison. When neither reacted at once, he tugged again. “Truck…fell.”

At last Jill found her voice. “Is your grandfather hurt, Kyle?”

At his vigorous nod, Keith rose. “Is he near the cabin, Kyle?” Again, the boy nodded. “Jill, where's the cabin from here?”

“Northwest. About a quarter of a mile.”

Keith took off toward the woods at a jog. “Call 911,” he called over his shoulder.

“Wait! It might be better if we…”

But he was already fifty feet away—and disappearing fast.

 

Later—much later—when car headlights pierced the gloom of her darkened living room, Jill eased away from a
sleeping Kyle and headed toward the front door. A police car was inching up her narrow driveway, and for a moment Jill panicked. Had something happened to Keith, too? Fear clogged her throat and she stopped breathing. Not until she saw him emerge from the car did her lungs kick in again.

With a wave, he turned toward the porch, where a dim bulb illuminated the night. The car did a U-turn and headed back down the drive, the red taillights blinking as it wound through the forest, the crunch of gravel under the tires the only sound in the still air.

Not until he drew close did Keith realize that Jill was waiting for him on the porch. Pausing, he looked up at her and raked his fingers through his hair. “Rough night.”

The weary lines scored on his face, the grease stains on his shirt, and the long, jagged tear in his jeans offered proof of that. Her first instinct was to throw herself in his arms, to comfort him as she'd earlier comforted Kyle. Instead, she jammed her hands in the pockets of her jeans and stayed where she was. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“No, thanks. I just want to sit a minute. How's Kyle?” He lowered himself to the porch steps carefully, every motion conveying his exhaustion.

She sat beside him. “He's sleeping on the couch in the living room. It took me a while to settle him down.”

“I don't doubt it.” He let out a long, slow breath and rubbed a hand down his face. “Things were hectic or I'd have called.”

“It's okay. How is his grandfather doing?”

Clasping his hands between his knees, he stared down. “There's no easy way to say this, I guess. He didn't make it, Jill.”

Jolted, she stared at him. “You mean he's…he's dead?”

“Yeah. I guess the jack slipped and the truck fell, pinning him underneath. When I got there he was unconscious but alive. I managed to reset the jack and get the truck off of him, but…he was pretty far gone already. The paramedics did what they could, but after a few minutes they gave up. There'll be an autopsy, of course, but I suspect the cause of death will be massive internal injuries.”

Though her dealings with the man had been anything but cordial, and she'd resented his poor care of Kyle, Jill nevertheless took a moment to commend him to God, who was, after all, the ultimate judge. Yet even as she sent that silent prayer heavenward, she couldn't help but think that Kyle would be better off without the man. Except…who did he have now? His father didn't want him. His mother was dead. There'd been no mention of any other relatives.

“It's Kyle I'm worried about.” Keith's comment echoed her thoughts.

“Me, too. I'll call Cindy in the morning. What will happen to him now?”

“He'll be placed in a foster home. That's the usual procedure in a case like this.”

“But what about long-term?”

“He might stay in the foster system forever, unless someone adopts him.”

Dismay washed over Jill. In his young life, Kyle had already known too much ill treatment, too much instability. In the foster system, he could very well be passed around like an unwanted Christmas fruitcake. What he needed was a secure, loving home, a place where he could learn to trust and relax and be a child again. An environment where he would be cherished and nurtured.

A place like Rainbow's End.

The solution was so obvious, so perfect—so right—that Jill didn't even have to think about it. “I could take him in.”

In the dark, Keith turned to her. The porch fixture cast light on half of his face, leaving the other half in shadows. “I had a feeling you might say that.”

There was a nuance in his voice that brought a furrow to her brow. “You don't sound too encouraging.”

He gave a heavy sigh and raked his fingers through his hair again. “Don't get me wrong, Jill. I've seen you with Kyle. And with Dominic. And with the baby bird. I know what a caring, nurturing person you are. I think you'd be just what the doctor ordered for Kyle.”

“But…?”

“But being approved as a foster parent isn't that easy. In general, the state looks for two-parent families.”

“He didn't have that before.”

“Biological families get away with a lot. Too much, in some cases. But foster and adoptive parents are put through the mill. Background checks…home visits…the whole nine yards. And it takes time.”

“Kyle doesn't have time.”

“I'm not the one you have to convince.”

“I'll talk to Cindy tomorrow.”

She started to rise, but Keith reached for her arm, holding her in place. “Don't get your hopes up, okay?”

“But I'd be a good foster parent.”

“I know. Think about this, though. As much as Kyle needs love and nurturing, he also needs professional help after all he's been through. Medical tests and eye care and psychological counseling, for a start. That means a lot of trips into town.
A lot of paperwork and dealing with bureaucracy. In other words, a lot of interacting with people.”

Jill wanted to say that she could handle that. But hadn't she told Madeleine only a few days before that she wasn't sure she was ready to go to Seattle for even a one-night gallery opening? If she couldn't do that, how in the world could she cope with meeting all of Kyle's needs, which would require more than one quick visit to a city?

Her shoulders slumped. Tugging free of Keith's arm, she stood. “I'm heading to bed, and you should do the same. It's been a long day.”

“I'm not trying to discourage you, Jill. I just think there are a lot of things to consider.”

“Yeah.”

She moved toward the door, turning when Keith's voice stopped her.

“If you want my opinion, I think you should go for it.” He'd risen and was facing her now, the golden porch light illuminating his weary face as he looked up at her. “I think you can overcome the obstacles. I believe in you.”

His words warmed her, and gratitude filled her eyes. “Thanks. I wish I had your confidence.”

“Give it to the Lord in prayer.”

The ghost of a smile played at her lips. “He's the first person I plan to talk to.”

“C
indy? Jill Whelan. I need to talk with you about Kyle Corbett.”

Sinking into a chair where she could keep Kyle in sight as he watched a video Dominic had left behind, Jill combed her fingers through her hair, then reached around and massaged the stiff muscles in her neck. She'd spent the night on the floor next to the couch, wanting to be nearby in case the little boy awoke. Unlike her, however, he'd slept soundly. But at least she'd put the long, dark hours to good use. And after much prayer and soul-searching, she'd reached a decision.

“What's up, Jill?”

After explaining the situation to the social worker, Jill took a deep breath. “I assume you'll be putting him in foster care. And I'd like to volunteer for the job.”

The surprised silence on the other end of the line lasted for several seconds. “That's a big responsibility, Jill.”

“I realize that. I also realize that Kyle is in desperate need of love. And I have plenty of that to offer. Plus, I'm the only one he knows on the island, aside from Keith. Wouldn't it be
better to place him in familiar surroundings where he's already comfortable?”

“Of course. But there's more to it than that.” Cindy proceeded to give Jill a rundown on the requirements for foster parenting, echoing much of what Keith had said the previous night. “Are you up for all that?”

“Yes.” The answer came without hesitation. Somewhere around four in the morning, Jill had decided that it was time to leave her sheltered, safe world and plunge back into the mainstream of life. She felt strong enough now to handle the pain of her past—and strong enough to deal with unkind strangers. If some people treated her differently because of her appearance, that was their problem. She had other, more important things to worry about. Namely, Kyle. With God by her side, she was confident she could find the courage to overcome her own challenges and make a difference in a little boy's life.

“Okay. Let me see what I can do to expedite things. I've already made one home visit. We've talked a couple of times. For now, I can leave Kyle with you, in the care of a neighbor, so to speak. We'll need to try and locate Kyle's father, too, but based on my conversation with Mr. Corbett I doubt he wants to be found. Let me get things rolling and I'll be in touch in a day or two.”

As she replaced the receiver, Jill did have one final, fleeting moment of doubt. But this was where her prayers had led her. And Keith believed in her. With those two things to bolster her courage, she had to trust that all would turn out well.

 

“Would you mind doing the reading, Keith? The page is marked.”

So lost in thought had he been as he stood beside the simple
pine box containing the remains of Jeremiah Corbett that Jill's request didn't register at once. When it did, Keith lifted his head and saw that she was holding out the Bible.

“I'd do it myself, but I have my hands full already.” She dipped her head toward Kyle, who was pressed close to her side and clinging to her other hand.

Unable to think of a reasonable excuse to turn down the request, Keith reached for the book. He opened it to the marked page—the twenty-third psalm—and began to speak the lyrical prose so often used at commendations.

“‘The Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing I shall want. In verdant pastures he gives me repose; beside restful waters he leads me; he refreshes my soul.'”

As the words drifted through the quiet air, Keith looked over at Jill without breaking rhythm, reciting the passage by heart. Her head was bowed, her eyes closed. Beside her, Kyle's attention was riveted on the pine coffin. No other mourners had come to mark the passing of the old man. If not for the three of them, the grave diggers in the background would have been the only ones to witness his burial. And if it hadn't been for Jill, their little trio wouldn't be here, either. But she'd insisted that whatever the man's faults, he should be sent to his rest with a prayer. When they'd been unable to establish any church affiliation, she'd taken it on herself to provide some words from the Good Book. Besides, she'd told him, Kyle needed the closure. Keith hadn't disagreed.

But he hadn't expected to find himself back in a role he thought he'd left behind forever. Nor had he expected it to feel so good. It was like putting on a pair of comfortable slippers after a long, painful walk in ill-fitting shoes.

Finishing the psalm, he closed the book and bowed his head.
“Lord, we commend the soul of Jeremiah Corbett to Your care, confident in Your just and loving mercy. We also ask that You watch over those of us here today. Please give us strength and courage for the journey and challenges ahead. Amen.”

When Keith looked up, Jill gave him a misty smile. “That was beautiful, Keith. Thank you.”

In silence, they turned to go. And as he took her arm to guide her over the uneven ground, that, too, felt good.

 

The next weeks flew by in a flurry of activity. Jill was kept busy chauffeuring Kyle around for medical tests, eye exams, fittings for his new glasses and counseling sessions—the latter requiring a ferry ride twice a week to Friday Harbor, on the adjacent San Juan Island. She conferred with Cindy often, who informed her that she'd located Kyle's birth records, and that he should be starting school since he'd had his sixth birthday a couple of months before. However, both agreed he wasn't ready, given the trauma he'd endured and his lack of verbal communication skills. In light of Jill's teaching credentials, the best plan seemed to be for her to tutor him in the fall, then enroll him for the spring semester.

No family was located, which surprised neither of them. With Cindy expediting the paperwork, Jill became Kyle's official foster parent in record time.

Through it all, Keith provided her with much-needed moral support. Often he accompanied her on outings with Kyle, his steadfast presence at her side bolstering her courage as she ventured into public and forced herself to return shocked looks with a warm smile, making herself accessible instead of aloof. To her surprise, many people responded in kind, easing her reentry into society. But the smooth transition was due in large
part, she knew, to the man who had changed her life by brightening her world with his simple acceptance and kindness.

And he was now working the same magic with Kyle, slowly breaking through the little boy's barriers. It was understandable that the youngster's trust level with men in particular would be low, given his bad experiences with his father and grandfather. But Keith seemed to have an instinctive ability to know how to go about it—and the patience to make the effort.

As Jill watched one day from the open kitchen window, Keith's interaction with Kyle reminded her yet again of what a special man had come into her life that turbulent, storm-tossed night in July. She'd sent Kyle out to the shed to retrieve a clay pot so that she could split a clump of herbs to share with Madeleine. As he trotted back toward the house, Keith called out to him from the corner of the studio. The boy's step faltered, and he turned toward Keith uncertainly, clutching the pot to his chest like a protective shield.

“Could you help me for a minute, Kyle? I need someone to hold the other end of this measuring tape while I check my numbers.” Keith's tone was pleasant and gentle, his words a request, not a demand. When Kyle didn't respond, Keith tried again. “It sure would be a help to me, Kyle. Sometimes an extra pair of hands makes a big difference.”

Still hesitant, Kyle glanced toward the house. Jill stepped back into the shadows, out of Kyle's sight line, but she maintained a clear view of the scene in the yard. After a few seconds, he slowly set the pot on the ground and stared at Keith.

“If you can hold this end, I'll be able to get my numbers.” Keith offered the tape to Kyle.

With slow, cautious steps the young boy approached him,
stopping a couple of feet away. Instead of moving closer, Keith pulled out the tape and stretched the end toward him. “Can you put it there, next to the window?” Kyle edged toward the spot Keith indicated and pressed the tape against the wall, shooting Keith a tentative look. “That's perfect, buddy. Hold it right there.”

Keith drew out the tape until it extended to the corner of the studio. Then he dropped to one knee to check the number, removing a pencil from behind his ear to jot down a few notes. “Just like I figured,” he called out. “I need to put another nail in this piece of siding. You can let the tape go, Kyle. Would you mind handing me that hammer by your foot?”

The little boy looked down and reached for the tool. After weighing it in his hands, he headed toward Keith, holding it out from arm's-length distance when he drew close.

“Thanks, Kyle.” Keith positioned a nail and gave it a gentle tap. Then he shook his head and examined his hand. “I'll tell you what, if I hold the nail, do you think you could get it started for me? I banged my thumb the other day, and it's kind of sore. I noticed that you had a good, strong swing when Dominic was here.” He extended the handle of the hammer to Kyle, steadied the nail with one hand, and splayed the fingers of the other on the ground to balance himself.

Each request had drawn Kyle closer. Each had helped convince him that this man wasn't going to hurt him or criticize him or berate him, as the other men in his life had done. Just the opposite. Keith was not only building the boy's comfort level, he was helping the youngster feel good about himself. As if he had something to contribute.

Mesmerized by the scene unfolding before her, Jill positioned herself in the sunlight for a better view and held
her breath as Kyle approached Keith in small, cautious increments. When he drew close enough to take the hammer, Keith dropped his voice and Jill could no longer hear the quiet conversation taking place. But Kyle's rapt expression told Jill that he was listening intently as Keith gave him some instructions. Then, his face a study in concentration, and wielding the hammer with both hands, he took a swing at the nail.

To Keith's credit, he didn't flinch—even though one small miscalculation could have resulted in smashed fingers. Instead, he smiled and encouraged Kyle to take another swing. And then another. Only when the nail—and their relationship—were secure did Keith remove his hand. Emotion tightened her throat, and she blinked several times to clear the sudden tears that blurred her vision.

At that instant, Keith looked up and caught sight of Jill framed in the window, sunlight sparking the fiery highlights in her hair. He hadn't realized he had an audience. His thoughts had been on Kyle alone. For days he'd been trying with limited success to ease the boy's fear of him. Today's inspiration had come to him in the spur of the moment, as he saw Kyle heading toward the toolshed. He hadn't been sure it would work, but he'd been determined to try. He wanted the little boy to realize that not all men were like his father and grandfather. That some were kind and caring and could be trusted. It seemed he'd taken a step in that direction today. And judging from her expression, Jill seemed to think so, too. In her eyes, he saw tenderness and gratitude and approval—and a longing so poignant, so intense that his mouth went dry.

Stunned, Keith stared at Jill. For weeks he'd tried to ignore his growing feelings for the woman who had given him refuge on that stormy summer night. When he could no longer
suppress them, he'd tried attributing them to gratitude. But now he realized they ran deeper than that. Far deeper. Deep enough to stir to life an emotion that he'd thought never to experience again. An emotion that Kyle, too, had tapped into—in a different way.

Confused, Keith turned back to his young helper and murmured a few encouraging words. He wasn't ready to give a name to that emotion yet. But he did know one thing. Here, with Jill and Kyle, he felt at home. And at peace. As if this was where he belonged. It was almost as if they were a family. Or were meant to be one. And with each day that passed it was getting harder and harder to even think about walking away.

As Jill watched, Keith rose and laid a hand on Kyle's shoulder. Instead of recoiling, the youngster stood stock-still and gazed up at him, his eyes filled with hope. Keith smiled and said a few words. And when he turned to go, the little boy trotted after him, close on his heels, the clay pot forgotten.

Jill didn't mind. She could split herbs any time. But it wasn't every day that one witnessed a life-changing moment.

 

At Jill's suggestion, they began attending services at a nearby church. She'd gone on occasion in the past, supplementing her infrequent attendance with private Bible study and other spiritual reading. But now that Kyle was in her care she felt it was important for him to experience the routine of weekly church attendance, as she had. Her own faith had been built on that foundation, and she wanted to offer him the same opportunity. Though she hadn't necessarily expected Keith to accompany them, he'd surprised her by accepting the
invitation. They were becoming a regular threesome at the small, white-steepled church.

Now, as they sat in the wooden pew with Kyle tucked between them, Jill felt a sense of deep contentment. Of rightness. It was the same feeling she'd had years before, when she and Sam and Emily shared a pew on Sundays. A feeling of belonging. Of family.

Family.
A bittersweet yearning swept over Jill, and her throat tightened with emotion. It was an illusion, of course. She was only a foster parent to Kyle, and Keith would soon be moving on. They were merely three people brought together by circumstance for a brief moment in time. Nonetheless, it reminded her of all that she'd once had…and offered her a tantalizing taste of what she'd never thought to find again.

But…was it possible that she'd been too hasty in writing off the joy of a close and loving family? she suddenly wondered. Why couldn't she consider adopting Kyle? After all, Cindy had told her that few people wanted older children…especially children who came with baggage. The odds were that Kyle would spend his youth in the foster system—unless she stepped forward. Yet raising a child alone was a daunting task. And not encouraged by social services. Couples were much preferred as adoptive parents. Still, it might be Kyle's best chance for a stable home. The real question was whether she was up to a permanent commitment like that, assuming she'd have to do all the parenting alone.