Dana Corbit - Homecoming at Hickory Ridge

Still, one look at her wouldn’t hurt. He turned his head toward her, hoping to steal a parting glance. He expected her to look away, to begin a conversation with someone else, to busy herself doing something—anything—so she didn’t have to see him. But as his gaze touched her lovely face, she was doing none of those things. She was staring right at him.

Julia stared into Kyle’s wary hazel eyes, and she couldn’t have looked away if a tornado had struck the church, collapsing the roof on all of them. The things Kyle and his brother had said to each other caused a powerful ache to build inside her, as if she had been a target of those hurtful words. Destructive words. Phrases that could never be taken back.

Kyle must have worn some protective armor to shield him from his brother’s comments. At least it seemed that way since he wasn’t watching the door through which his brother had disappeared but instead continued to stare at her as if daring her to look away. Did he think she was the kind of person who would go screaming in the other direction at the word ex-con?

Okay, he couldn’t know what kind of person she was, and the term did make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she didn’t long for her running shoes. That Kyle worked at Hickory Ridge Community Church made this new information easier to digest. Reverend Bob and Andrew Westin would never have hired Kyle if his crime made him a possible danger to church members or their children.

With a silence in the room so profound she could hear her heartbeat in her ears, Julia waited while those eyes continued to study her. Sage eyes that had probably seen far more than she had in her twenty-seven years. He seemed to search inside her for something more than she could give. She wanted to believe she was above judging a person for his past, but it wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

Still, Kyle looked away first. He glanced at the exit and then strode toward it, his hands striking the handle with a bang as he passed through the doorway. The door fell closed behind him.

Glancing around her, Julia found other church members watching the door as if they expected Kyle to reemerge through it. She doubted that would happen. He didn’t know many people here. And from the scene they’d all just witnessed, he didn’t even have a decent relationship with his brother, the only person in town he probably did know well.

Did he feel alone? She knew what that felt like. After her parents’ deaths, despite her faith, she’d felt adrift while the rest of the world appeared solidly anchored. But Charity had been there for her. The half sister she’d barely known had reached out to her, even encouraging her to move to Milford so what remained of their family could be together. Who was there for Kyle? Who would draw him into a circle of friends? The answer was clear: he had no one.

Before her mind had the chance to rethink her plan, Julia hurried to the door. She didn’t glance back, knowing curious eyes would follow her. Kyle needed somebody, and it didn’t look as if anyone else was volunteering for the job. Even someone as apprehensive as she was had to be better than no one at all.

Her cross-trainers tripping along the carpeted walkway, Julia reached the outside only to find the parking lot quiet, the cars of families attending the prayer meeting and choir practice filling half the spaces.

Disappointment filled her. Maybe it was true what her father used to say about her: he’d called her a champion for underdogs, a collector of strays. Injured birds, lost kittens, new kids in town—they all ended up in a warm box inside the door or at their kitchen table.

This time none of that would be enough. Not enough to help a guy as scarred as Kyle likely was behind his armor. Rubbing her bare arms and wishing she’d remembered to grab her sweater, she started back toward the church entrance.

Somewhere behind her an ignition turned over, but the vehicle didn’t start. Its driver tried a few more times, and the engine roared to life. An older model sedan backed out of its space, rolling toward the exit. As the car passed, Julia recognized Kyle in the driver’s seat.

“Kyle. Wait.” She rushed out so that he could see her waving her arms in his rearview mirror.

When she’d decided either he hadn’t seen her or was pretending he hadn’t, he stopped the car.

She hurried to the driver’s-side window and waited until he lowered it. At first he stared straight ahead instead of at her. The breeze lifted a few strands of his tousled deep-brown hair. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, and when he rested his elbow on the open window, his bicep strained against the cuff of his royal-blue polo shirt.

Finally he turned to look at her. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m great. Now you’d better get inside or you’ll be late for prayer meeting.”

She brushed away the suggestion with a wave of her hand. “I thought you might need someone to talk to.”

“Didn’t you hear enough inside?”

She didn’t know how she expected him to react, but the hard set of his jaw surprised her. Well, she didn’t know much about Kyle Lancaster, but he had a stubborn bent as firm as his jaw.

“I guess I didn’t,” Julia said. She could be pretty stubborn herself when challenged.

His gaze flitted to her face and he pressed his thin lips together. “Then you weren’t listening closely enough.”

Julia rubbed her arms again, the chill this time coming from the man in the car rather than the spring breeze, but she refused to take his hint to back off. At least he hadn’t closed the car window yet or pressed the gas pedal to the floorboard.

“I listened well enough to know that you’re not getting much support from your one relative in town.”

His hands gripped the steering wheel. “Thanks for coming out here, but I don’t need your pity.”

Julia lifted a brow. “Pity? I don’t see anybody here pitying anyone else.” She braced herself and steadied her voice. Doing God’s work wasn’t coming as easily to her as she would have expected. “I just thought you might like to go for coffee or something. You’re new in town, and I thought you might need a friend.”

He was shaking his head before she even finished her offer. “I’m not worth the trouble. Didn’t you hear Trooper Lancaster?”

“I’m sure Brett didn’t mean what he said.”

“I’m sure he did.”

His vehemence reminded her how little she knew about this family drama, and she felt properly put in her place. Her need to defend Brett didn’t surprise her, as he’d always been kind to everyone in the years she’d known him. What did surprise her was the sudden impulse to defend his younger brother, as well. She barely knew Kyle, and what she knew for sure about him didn’t inspire much confidence.

Still, Kyle Lancaster was a child of God, and he seemed awfully alone.

“I’m sorry.” She rested her hands on the edge of the open window. She would have reached inside and patted his shoulder if she thought he would have let her.

“No big deal,” he said, though it clearly was. “I don’t need Trooper Lancaster or any of the Lancasters.” He turned his head to stare out the windshield. “I don’t need…”

He let his words trail away, but Julia still heard the word he hadn’t spoken. Anyone. He didn’t believe that, did he? As if he recognized her surprise and saw it as his opportunity, Kyle shifted his car into Drive and settled his hand over the automatic window control.

Taking his hint, Julia lifted her hands away from the window and stepped back from the car.

“Good night, Kyle. It was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, you, too. Goodbye.” He glanced at her once more, a strange expression lining his features, before he pulled the car down the church drive and onto the road.

Julia watched his car, a sense of loss building inside her. I don’t need… His words invaded her thoughts again, as unsettling as when he’d spoken them. Her heart ached that anyone would have let him believe that was true.

Rubbing her chilly arms, she went back inside, but instead of joining the prayer meeting, she retrieved her belongings and headed out to her car. She wasn’t in the mood to be in a social setting now.

Only after she’d parked in her one-car garage and had headed up the walk to her tiny but wonderful house on Union Street did Kyle’s words came back to taunt her. He hadn’t said “Good night” as she had. He’d said “Goodbye,” as if he never expected to see her again.

The thought grated on her. Of course she would see him again. It was a small town. The village covered only a few square miles. And Kyle worked at the one place she frequented almost as often as her classroom at school: her church.

She hadn’t planned to return to Hickory Ridge until Sunday services, but she decided as she turned her back-door lock that a visit to the church office tomorrow afternoon just might be in order. If she suddenly took an interest in working with the foundling prison ministry, she would raise a few eyebrows, but no one would be surprised to see her starting her Homecoming celebration work.

Okay, she would be getting a few weeks’ head start on the search for former members, but it never hurt to be ahead of the ball, did it? If she happened to cross paths with Kyle Lancaster while she was there, then so be it.

Julia didn’t want to wonder why she was trying so hard when he’d made it clear he didn’t want anything from her. She might like to nurture others, but she’d never met someone who wanted her help less. He eschewed it and her. There were so many others she could help—her students, her church friends, others in the community—and they might even appreciate her efforts. Most of them didn’t have an unspecified criminal record for her to be concerned about, either.

So why Kyle? The question reverberated in her thoughts. But he’d given her the answer even as he’d tried to push her away. She couldn’t turn her back on him now even if she wanted to. Someone who didn’t think he needed anyone might just need someone most of all.

Crouched on his hands and knees beneath his new desk, Kyle threaded computer cords through a hole in the back. He reached up to rub his aching neck that had no business being squeezed into that uncomfortable position.

He wasn’t sure why Reverend Bob and Andrew had insisted on putting one of the brand-new computer monitors on his desk. It wasn’t as if he would be doing computer spreadsheets and video presentations in his job. At least, he hoped not.

For the most part, though, he knew what he was doing with stringing the wires. He’d done his share of troubleshooting the last few years on the dozen or so aged machines in the prison’s computer lab. And before that he’d had some experience unwiring a few tasty electronics on the sly, but he chose not to remember those times now. He’d tried hard to put that life behind him, and it didn’t do him any good to keep ruminating on it.

The cable Internet offered a bit more of a challenge, though. The prison’s computer lab hadn’t been connected to the outside world, so he was just learning about things like networks.

Even if he wasn’t sure what to do with that blue cable, Kyle couldn’t help feeling impressed with the quality of his work today. Something had to be said for good, honest work on the outside. His plan involved stepping stones, and this job was a solid first rock. He liked the idea that his work, even if he planned for it to be temporary, would help other prison inmates.