Forbidden Falls (Virgin River #9)(30)

“Noah, stop. I’ve talked to lawyers…”

“I could give you a loan. Long-term. Interest free.”

She tilted her head. “Don’t do this,” she barely whispered. “Leave me some pride. I got us into this, I’ll get us out.”

“Ellie, there’s no shame in a helping hand….”

“I just need some rest. I didn’t sleep at all last night. Once I have some sleep, things will look better in the morning. I’ll be able to think straight.”

Noah pulled a rumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and held it toward her. “Well, sleep on this. Her name is Brie Valenzuela. I just met her. Very nice woman.” He shrugged. “According to Preacher, the cook, she’s been known to help neighbors. She helped him once.”

“But they all know each other.”

“Just take it. It’s Mel’s sister-in-law, Ellie.”

She took the paper and said, “You didn’t tell them all about—”

“I didn’t tell anyone anything. I just said I had a friend with a difficult custody situation that, as far as I could tell, was diabolical. I said I knew someone who could use some help.”

“They’ll all figure it out,” she said, her voice tired.

“That’s not the most important thing,” he argued.

“I have to go to bed now. So I can work in the morning.”

Helplessly, he said, “Is there anything I can do to help? Right now?”

“Yeah, boss. You can let me get up the stairs and shake this off. This isn’t your problem.”

Oh, but it was, he thought. It wasn’t that he took on pain and suffering like an addict. He barely knew her and yet he was completely enmeshed in this crisis; his throat ached from remembering the sound of the children’s voices when they were in his backseat. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry to get in your business. Sleep well.”

He walked around her and down the driveway. “That’s nice, though,” she said to his back. “Nice to have someone care. Thanks for that.”

Noah found himself wondering why Ellie hadn’t slept last night. He would have imagined having her kids with her, so close, all in one big bed, would have given her comfort, peace of mind. Was she completely wigged out with stress? Fear? Confusion?

Where there is sadness, let me bring joy….

Noah realized with some embarrassment that he wanted to hold her and comfort her, whisper all the right words that would bring her peace of mind. He wanted to be the one to get her through this. To rescue her. To put his arms around her, protect her and bring contentment where there was fear and pain. Hope. He would show her hope where there was hopelessness. For it is in giving that we receive….

But this was not his job. He was not her minister. He was her boss.

He shook his head, trying to shake away the impulse that was all wrong for the circumstances. It was just that he’d been too alone for too long. It wasn’t just since Merry had passed, it was before and after that. There had been women, but nothing lasting, no one to whom he could really give himself except for that all-too-brief time he had his wife. He needed to get beyond that.

Ellie would probably be happier with a hundred-dollar bill than an offer to pray with him. Why didn’t he know that? He’d always known things like that! Anyone who could go to skid row with a Bible in one hand and a grocery sack full of peanut-butter sandwiches in the other knew when it was appropriate to offer spiritual assistance and when it was time to just be a friend.

He’d gotten himself in deep. And fast. Well, that happened to counselors, he knew that—it was a hazard of the profession. But he had fallen into her problems like a drunk into a shot glass. He took them on, worried them to death, worked at finding a solution. He liked happily ever after, even if he didn’t exactly have an acquaintance with it right now.

He would have to separate himself from this situation, be objective, remember his job, his particular skills, his role.

He’d better back off, before he did more harm than good.

Come Monday morning, Noah had a headache. He’d tossed and turned, suffering through deep thoughts that ranged from his spiritual commitment and his job here, to Ellie and her problems, to missing Merry. He wished he had a woman in his life, he thought. Talk about hopelessness. Nothing can keep you up all night like worry and self-pity.

But when he finally made it to the church office at eight in the morning, he heard movement and soft humming. When he went to the upstairs bathroom, he found Ellie painting away, the little bathroom almost done. She wasn’t wearing makeup this morning. Her hair was clipped in the back, but fell in a shiny curtain down her back—she’d straightened it somehow. Instead of her tight jeans, she wore some khaki things that tied right below the knees. And his painting shirt. She looked about fifteen.

She turned and smiled at him. “Morning,” she said. “Sleep in?”

“This is my usual time,” he said.

She laughed. “Yeah, I know. Just giving you crap. I slept like a dead woman last night and thought I’d get an early start.”

“You did?” he asked, rather stunned. When last he’d seen her, she was a crying wreck. He hadn’t slept. And she’d been part of the reason.

“I did. I was worn out. But then I woke up early and thought, why not just go for it. I didn’t bother fixing up at all—I figured no one would see me but you and the paint.” Then she smiled again.