Free Finding Her Way Home by Linda Goodnight Page B

Now, after working with him inside and outside the clinic, she understood.
    Taking a chair opposite him, she allowed a casual look around. The Parkers’ kitchen was a combination of country warmth and modern convenience. She could imagine happy meals in this room. She’d grown up in a home like this, where family mattered and hours around the kitchen table had resolved the problems and struggles of her teenage years.
    But her family’s table had grown quieter after Mom’s death, fading to silence in the past year. She didn’t blame Dad and Brent. They simply did not know what to say or do anymore. But she’d struggled alone, in silence, until she could bear it no longer.
    She bit down on the inside of her cheek and concentrated on that one small pain. Anything to get her mind off Colorado.
    Michelle handed out fragrant cups of coffee, motioningtoward sugar and cream in the center of the table. Coffee around the Parker table must be a common affair. “So, where are you from, Cheyenne?”
    The question was a normal one. Hadn’t she asked the same thing of others many times?
    Eyes on the curl of steam rising from her cup, she said, “Colorado.”
    â€œBeautiful state. What brings you here?”
    Good question. And one she couldn’t answer without spilling her guts to strangers.
    Trace’s mug thumped against the table. “Where’s Pastor Parker? I wanted to introduce him.”
    Bless Trace. Whether he knew it or not, he’d rescued her. She flicked a glance his way. He was watching her, eyes crinkling at the corners.
    â€œGreat coffee, huh?” he said innocently, a smile playing around his lips.
    â€œTerrific.” Was she so transparent that her employer had already figured out she had something to hide? For months after the garage attack she’d wondered if people could tell what had happened just by looking at her. She knew now that the thoughts were paranoid, part of post-traumatic stress, but still they came back to haunt her on a regular basis.
    Could Trace tell? Did he pity her? Or worse, judge her?
    To quiet the swarm of irrational thoughts, she took a swallow of hot coffee. The liquid burned her tongue and throat but had the desired effect.
    If Michelle Parker noticed anything strange about her visitor, she was a master of discretion.
    â€œRob ran over to check on Ida June. She took another fall.”
    â€œIda June Click is our octogenarian handywoman,” he said to Cheyenne. “She’s always into something.”
    â€œShe’s still working?” And as handywoman, no less?
    â€œAccording to Ida June, the day she quits working is the daythe Lord will call her home. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.” Michelle smiled above the rim of her cup. “That’s a direct quote.”
    â€œWhat was she doing this time?” Trace asked. “Installing another ceiling fan for an ‘old person’?”
    â€œWorse. She was repairing the guttering on one of her rent houses. The old gutter pulled loose and down she came.”
    â€œIs she hurt?”
    â€œAccording to Ida June, the only thing hurt is her pride. Rob said she had a goose egg bruise on her forehead and was mad as a wet cat, but she refused to let him drive her to the doctor.”
    â€œThat’s Ida June. And if I don’t miss my guess, she’ll be at church on Sunday ready to teach her class.”
    â€œNo doubt about it. The day she misses church is the day after she moves to heaven. Forsake not the assembling. That’s another direct quote.” Smiling fondly, Michelle set her coffee down. “What about you, Cheyenne? Have you found a church yet? We’d love to have you attend Redemption Fellowship.”
    The tension, momentarily soothed by the story of Ida June, crept back in. Cheyenne shook her head. “I’m not much on church attendance. But thank you for the invitation.”
    As far as she could tell,