Rainbow's End

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“There’s no charge. You’re not getting any great bargain out there. It’s pretty bare bones.”

“It’s far better than camping, which is what I do most of the time. I wouldn’t feel right about staying if you won’t let me pay.”

Straightening, she sent him a sideways look. “I don’t need the money, Mr. Michaels.”

“Keith. And that’s beside the point. I prefer to pay my way.”

From the stubborn set of his jaw beneath the stubble and the resolve in his eyes, Jill could see that her unexpected guest wasn’t about to budge on this issue. Shrugging, she resumed her work. “Fine. Let me think for a minute.” Silence ensued as she gathered up the tablecloth, and when she finally threw out a number, Keith frowned.

“You can’t even get a cheap motel for that rate,” he protested.

The barest hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth. “I think there’s something wrong with this picture. Isn’t the buyer supposed to try and negotiate a lower price, not a higher one?”

An answering grin tugged at his mouth. This time his lips cooperated, twitching up a fraction. “I want to be fair.”

“I consider the price I quoted more than fair, since I offered the cabin to you free.”

Her point was hard to dispute. With a gesture of capitulation, he gave in. “Then I accept. With thanks.” He took the last swig of his coffee and handed her the mug. When his firm, strong fingers brushed hers, she tried not to notice. “I think I’ll head out and do a little exploring, stock up on some provisions. Thanks again, Jill.”

He turned and struck out across the field. As Jill watched him recede into the distance, focusing on his broad back, she tried to figure out why she’d agreed to rent her cabin to this stranger. Considering how she guarded her privacy, it was an odd thing to do. She should be sending him on his way, not inviting him to share her space. It made no sense.

And if she couldn’t explain her behavior to herself, how in the world was she going to explain it to Deb?

Chapter Four

The place was a pigsty.

Hot color crept up Jill’s neck to her cheeks as she surveyed the cluttered, dirty cabin where Keith had spent last night. The dust was deep enough to write in, bits of debris clung to the woven rugs, and the thick grime on the windows was as effective as shades in diffusing the sunlight. On top of all that, the whole place smelled musty, half of the lightbulbs were burned out and cobwebs had staked a claim on the corners of the ceiling.

Yet her unexpected visitor not only wanted to pay to stay here, he considered it a bargain!

Well, Jill knew better. The place was more suited to its current role as a storage shed than to human habitation. Of course, at one time it had been much more livable. Jill had spent the first six months of her stay here while she rehabbed the decrepit main house. But since moving out, she’d done little to maintain the interior. Now that she had a paying guest, however, she needed to make up for lost time.

Unsure how long Keith would be gone, Jill went into high gear. She dusted, vacuumed, mopped, scoured the kitchen and bathroom, stripped the bed and remade it with clean sheets and washed all the windows. Then she gathered up the baskets on the counter, carried the boxes of kitchen odds and ends outside, and collected her art supplies, wedging them into her car for a trip across the field to the house. As a final touch, she put a vase of fresh wildflowers in the center of the small oak dining table, propping a note beside it that directed Keith to the refrigerator.

Finished, she stepped back to assess the results of her two hours of intensive labor. The windows sparkled, the polished surface of the table glistened, every bit of dust and debris had been vanquished, the bathroom and kitchen were spick-and-span, and the light fixtures gleamed. With a satisfied nod, she packed up her supplies and headed home.

As she crossed the field, she couldn’t help but wonder what her temporary tenant would think about the transformation in his accommodations. She hoped he’d be pleased. After all, if he was willing to pay for the privilege of occupying her modest cabin, the least she could do was give it a thorough cleaning. Of course, if he was like a lot of men, he wouldn’t notice the care she’d taken to make him feel welcome.

But already Jill was getting the distinct feeling that Keith Michaels wasn’t like a lot of men.

Not even close.

For a fleeting second, Keith wasn’t sure he was in the right cabin.

As he stepped across the threshold, arms laden with grocery bags and laundry, he came to an abrupt stop. The cabin was immaculate. Every vestige of grime and neglect had been removed. The place was so clean is almost glowed.

Stunned, Keith did a slow inventory. Crisp curtains hung at the spotless windows. When he dropped the laundry onto the couch, no dust cloud engulfed him. A peek into the bedroom revealed a neatly made bed, with decorative pillows fluffed against the headboard. The bathroom floor looked clean enough to eat off, and the kitchen was pristine.

Completing his circuit in the dining alcove, he spotted the flowers and note. Reaching for the single sheet of paper, he scanned the simple message, which was written in a flowing, graceful script.

“Sorry for the mess you found when you arrived. Hope the homemade soup in the fridge helps make up for it!”

Somehow, the fact that Jill had scoured the place didn’t surprise him. But the soup was an added—and touching—bonus. With an eagerness he couldn’t have suppressed if he tried, he returned to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Sure enough, a large container stood in the otherwise empty interior. Lifting the lid, he inhaled. Ambrosia! Memories of better times, of home and comfort and love, washed over him in a cleansing wave, and for a second it was like a taste of heaven.

Though the impression was fleeting, it was a balm to Keith’s ravaged soul. That brief glimpse of happiness, of joy and contentment and rightness, was the first such moment he’d had since his world began to fall apart. And if he could have one such moment, perhaps others would follow, he realized, his spirits notching up another peg.

Odd. Just when his hope was running on fumes, it had been given a boost by his reluctant landlady. A woman who had suffered her own trauma, who had lost a man Keith assumed she loved, who had suffered a terrible injury, and who now lived alone with her memories, secluded in this beautiful but remote place. A woman who had chosen a solitary life, but had nevertheless reached out to him in his need. Her unselfish kindness touched him in a way nothing else had for two years.

A long time ago, Keith would have paused to thank the Lord for leading him to this place when his soul most needed replenishing. And maybe, somehow, the Lord’s hand was in this. But he wasn’t sure. About that…and about so many of the things he’d once believed with such fervor and absolute conviction. That uncertainty was, in fact, the root cause of his problem.

But what did God expect, after the crippling blow life had dealt him? He’d tried to remain upright in the torrent that raged around and within him, but in the end he’d lost his balance and fallen. And kept falling, until he was sucked so far down into the swirling vortex, so shrouded in darkness, that he wondered whether he would ever find his way out. God knew, he’d tried! But without his faith to sustain him, the quest had been futile. Where once he’d found strength and courage and fortitude in his beliefs, there was now a black void.

Part of him still yearned to turn to God, to plead for help. But God had been deaf to all his entreaties, refusing to answer even a man who had dedicated his life to spreading His good news, to gathering His flock. The bitterness already on Keith’s tongue had grown more acrid as the silence lengthened, distancing him further from the One who had once guided his every step. The chasm had deepened, widened. Until now, Keith felt as isolated spiritually as Jill was geographically.

Yet deep in the recesses of his heart, he wanted to believe. Wanted to trust once more in the Lord’s goodness. To put his life in God’s hands, as he’d often counseled others to do. To rely with confidence on the Lord’s guiding presence even when the powers of darkness loomed and threatened. Without that trust, without that belief, he was floundering, seeking answers where none were to be found. But how did he reconnect? How did he find his way back to the Source, to the spring of life that had once refreshed his parched soul?

For the past year he’d been seeking the truth, searching for answers, looking for release. But nowhere in his travels had he found these elusive quarries. Nor had he come close to finding a hint of the infinite peace bestowed only by God.

Until he’d come here.

As he’d walked across the tranquil meadow this morning, Keith had attributed his heightened sense of hope to the place itself. And there was something special about this rocky piece of land, with its soaring mountains and verdant forests and shimmering, crystalline seas. But it wasn’t just the place.

It was also the woman.

Despite their brief acquaintance, Keith had already been touched by Jill in ways he couldn’t begin to articulate. Though marred by tragedy, and sensitive about her scars, she had a serenity about her that he envied. As if she’d made her peace with the horrendous injury that had forever changed the way the world looked at her. And considering her reclusive lifestyle, the kindness and generosity she’d shown to a stranger at her door had been remarkable—as well as humbling. She’d asked nothing from him in return for her benevolence. Instead, she’d continued to give, living the golden rule he’d often preached.

Once more Keith scanned the cabin, drawing in a deep, contented breath. There was order here. And peace. The room was filled with sunshine and warmth, the aura of caring so potent that it seeped into the very marrow of his bones. It felt good in this place. And right. Like this was where he’d been heading all along, through his months of aimless wandering.

As he stood in the sunlit room, the restless urgency that had plagued him, driving him on and on, abated. He wasn’t sure why. After all, he still had no answers. He still felt adrift, far from land, at the mercy of the relentless surf. But for the first time, he caught sight of a light in the distance, as when a boat crests a storm-tossed wave, offering a glimpse of the distant shore. And that little glimmer of light gave him hope that perhaps, at long last, he was approaching solid land once more.

There was no doubt in his mind that the comforting aroma of the chicken soup he held in his hands was contributing to his more upbeat mood. But as Keith glanced out the window of the cabin and spied Jill at the far edge of the field, he knew she could claim the lion’s share of credit for the sudden lightening of his spirits. This woman’s simple goodness and kindness had renewed and uplifted him, chasing away the despair that had clung to him like a wet garment after the rain. For that unexpected blessing, he gave thanks. Whether God was in the mood to listen or not.

And then he set out to thank someone he knew would listen.

The baby bird was in trouble.

Dropping to her knees in the field, Jill stroked a gentle finger over the downy fluff that would, in time, give way to feathers as the hatchling matured. But without immediate care, this victim of last night’s storm was destined never to see adulthood.

Her expression softened in sympathy as the pitiful creature stared up at her with wide eyes, too weak to lift its head. Its heart thumped heavily in its scrawny chest, each beat a desperate plea for life. It was an entreaty that Jill had never been able to ignore. That was why her home had always been a temporary refuge for critters of all sorts. Animal Care Central, as Sam had often teased her, she recalled with a pang.

Scooping the tiny creature up with tender care, she cupped the limp bird in her hand, the thump of its heart pulsating against her palm. It couldn’t be more than a couple of days old. And it was in dire need of warmth and nourishment. With conscientious care, though, she was sure it could not only survive, but thrive. She’d rescued enough sick and injured birds and animals in her life to know that TLC often did the trick. For all of God’s creatures—including humans.

Just as she started to rise, a flicker of movement in the nearby forest caught her eye. Without even turning in that direction, she knew her young visitor had returned. She also knew better than to look his way, since scrutiny seemed to spook him. If she wanted to build his trust, it would have to be in small, nonthreatening increments.

Angling her body a bit more in his direction, she spoke loudly enough for him to hear her, keeping her gaze fixed on the bird in her hand.

“Looks like this baby bird was a victim of last night’s storm. Goodness, he’s a tiny thing! But his beak is huge. That’s so he can get enough food to help him grow, I suppose. I wonder what he is? A flicker, maybe. Or a Steller’s jay. If he’s a jay, he’ll have a beautiful blue chest when he grows up.”

As Jill spoke, she sensed the boy creeping closer, cautious but curious. She extended her hand a bit to give him a glimpse of the tiny bird, hoping he would come near enough to let her get a good look at him. His ragtag state concerned her, and she wanted to know more about him—who he was, where he lived, if he had enough to eat. But before she could engage him in conversation, she had to convince him that she posed no threat.

With cautious steps he approached her, until only a few yards separated them. Jill continued to speak in a gentle, soothing voice, directing her comments to the little bird. But the reassuring words were meant more for her young visitor, designed to put him at ease and build his comfort level.

When he was half a dozen feet away, Jill shifted and risked a quick glance in his direction, holding out her hand at the same time. “Would you like to see him?”

The boy stopped, and alarm flashed across his face.

She smiled at him and extended her hand farther. “It’s okay if you take a look. He won’t hurt you.” And neither will I.

His wary eyes regarded her, uncertainty in their depths. She held her breath, hoping her unspoken message had registered. He took a tentative step closer. Then he took another. And…

All at once, his head jerked up and he stared over her shoulder. Panic tightened his features, and before Jill could say a word he turned and ran back toward the woods as fast as his short legs could carry him. In seconds he’d disappeared into the shadows.

Her shoulders slumped with disappointment, and Jill turned to see what had frightened her young guest—only to discover her other guest striding across the field toward her. And he was a somewhat formidable figure, she acknowledged. Although he seemed a bit underfed, he still had a powerful, athletic build. Throw in his height advantage over the youngster, not to mention his scruffy appearance, and she couldn’t fault the little boy for being uneasy. Keith Michaels had the same effect on her. For different reasons.

In one lithe movement she stood and turned to face him.

“I’m sorry. It looks like I chased off your visitor.” He stopped a few feet in front of her and planted his fists on his hips, twin furrows creasing his brow as he stared into the woods.

“It doesn’t take much. He’s as skittish as the deer I sometimes surprise nosing around my garden. I thought I might pique his curiosity with this and coax him a bit closer.”

The wide-brimmed hat shaded her features, and when she dipped her chin to look down her face was hidden from his view. Following her line of sight, he realized she was holding a newly hatched baby bird.

He took a step closer. “Where did you find him?”

“Here. Lying in the field. A victim of last night’s storm, I guess.” She cocooned her hands around the bird, hoping some of their warmth would seep into the tiny creature. “I need to get him inside, out of the breeze. And feed him.”

Doubt clouded Keith’s eyes. “He’s pretty little. I don’t think his odds are too great.”

Once more Jill looked up, and he didn’t miss the stubborn tilt of her chin. “I don’t plan to give up without a fight. And I bet this little guy won’t, either. My record with baby birds is pretty good.”

Without waiting for him to respond, she set off across the field. As Keith fell into step beside her, a sudden chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

At the unexpected sound she came to an abrupt stop and stared at him. “What’s so funny?”

A wry grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “The woman at the shop in Eastsound told me that you liked to take in strays, and I had this image in my mind of an eccentric spinster lady with dozens of cats roaming all over her house. Not a young woman who rescues baby birds. I guess that shows how wrong preconceptions can be.”

For several moments she continued to look at him, her expression solemn. “You were wrong about the cats, anyway.” She struck off again toward the house.

His grin faded. He’d meant the comment as a compliment; instead, he’d upset her. Again. In half a dozen long strides he caught up to her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” She didn’t slow her pace. Nor did she respond. “Look, the reason I came over was to say thank you for all the work you did at the cottage. It doesn’t even look like the same place. And the soup was a bonus. It brought back a lot of happy memories. My mom used to make chicken soup, and back when times were simpler, it was the solution to a lot of life’s problems. One bowl, and everything was right with the world again.”

Her pace slowed a bit, and she looked down to stroke the baby bird’s head. “I wish it were that easy.” Her voice was so soft he had to lean close to catch her comment.

They’d reached the back porch and he stopped at the bottom of the steps as she ascended. There was a world of meaning in her simple remark. A profound sadness that touched his soul. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked. When his husky tone brought a startled look to her face, he cleared his throat and gestured toward the bird. “I could build you a little box to keep it in.”

Dipping her head, she shielded her eyes from his view. “That’s okay. I’ve got one in the kitchen that will do. But thank you.”

With that she retreated to the house and closed the door.

Long after she’d disappeared inside, Keith remained at the bottom of the steps, his expression pensive. The woman in the store had been right. His landlady did take in strays. She’d adopted an abandoned baby bird, determined to nurse it back to health. She wanted to help the ragtag little boy. She’d given him shelter when he had nowhere else to go. But while she tended to those in need, who tended to her?

Shoving his fists into his pockets, Keith turned and set out across the meadow. His distraction blinded him to the flowers all around him, which were struggling upright again after the storm, and to the spruce trees that were shaking the weight of the rain off their boughs and once more lifting them to the heavens.

Nor did he see the woman peering from behind a curtain in the upper window, who watched him go.

Chapter Five

For the first few days, Keith didn’t stray far from Rainbow’s End. He hiked a little in Moran State Park, spent hours watching the sea from a nearby rocky beach, took long naps and prepared simple meals from the provisions he’d bought at the general store a few miles down the road. For the most part, he was content to let the peace and quiet of the place seep into his soul.

He saw no further evidence of the mysterious little boy who stayed on the fringes of the property. Nor did he see much of his landlady. Once he happened to catch a glimpse of her when she ventured out to the toolshed. Another time he saw a light burning in an upstairs window late into the night. Beyond that, there was no sign of life at the house.

Only when his supplies began to dwindle did Keith decide it was time for another trip into town. Besides, he owed his father a call, and his cell phone didn’t work here. He’d left a message on his father’s machine the day after the storm, when he’d gone into town for groceries, but it had been cryptic. He owed his dad more than that, after all the support and love he’d provided when Keith’s world had collapsed.

As he headed out the door, his camera caught his eye, and on impulse he reached for the case. He hadn’t had much interest in taking photos in quite a while, but this island was special in a way he couldn’t quite define. He might see something that would pique his interest enough to motivate him to get the camera out of the case.

Two hours later, after exploring a bit in Eastsound and stocking up on provisions, he found a pay phone and placed a call to his dad’s cell number. When his father picked up, Keith could hear the sound of a saw in the background. He pictured the older man, solid and hearty, dressed in his typical work attire of worn jeans and a cotton shirt, his bristly white hair standing at attention in the crew cut style he’d always favored, a stubby pencil stuck behind his ear.

“Dad, it’s Keith. Is this a good time?”

“It’s always a good time to hear from you, son.” The warmth in the older man’s voice soothed Keith like a healing balm. “I got your message the other night, but it was scratchy. Did you say you were in San Juan? I thought you were heading west, not south.”

A smile lifted the corners of Keith’s mouth. “I’m in the San Juan Islands, Dad. Off the coast of Washington State. A beautiful little spot called Orcas Island.”

There was a moment of silence as Bob Michaels tried to recall when his son had last noticed beauty. He couldn’t even remember. Perhaps this, finally, was the turning point he’d been praying for since Keith had walked away from the traumatic memories that had distorted and darkened his vision of the world. Thank you, Lord, he whispered in the silence of his heart.

“And what’s so special about Orcas Island?” Bob asked, after swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“It’s quiet here. And peaceful. Not like anywhere I’ve ever been. I don’t know quite how to describe it, except that it feels like a place apart from the world, where you can regroup and make a fresh start.” Keith didn’t mention that his unique landlady added to the specialness of the place.

“Sounds mighty fine. Where are you staying?”

“A little cottage. There are very few people for miles around. It’s just the forest and the mountains and the sea.”

“Staying there for a spell might do you good. How are you fixed for cash?”