Still frowning, he shrugged.
“I thought we could go down to the barn. We have four horses. And our cat, Misty, had kittens a few weeks ago. What do you say?”
A gleam of interest lit up his brown eyes for a moment, but the scowl returned, and he clamped his mouth shut.
Paige waited a beat, then shook her head. “That’s too bad. Guess I’ll just leave you here with your dad and find another camper who wants to help with the animals. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Porter.” She started toward the door, ignoring the looks of disbelief on George’s and Nathan Porter’s faces.
“Wait.” Zach’s voice rang with desperation.
Hand on the doorknob, her back to the boy, Paige’s lips twitched in victory. She sobered and turned to face him. “Yes, Zach?”
“I guess going to the barn is better than hanging around here.”
Paige looked to Nathan for confirmation. He only nodded, his expression hovering somewhere between frustration and bewilderment.
“Good. We’ll be back later then.”
Before father or son could change his mind, Paige ushered Zach out the door.
On the way to the stables, she offered silent prayers Heavenward for help with this angry boy and slowed her steps to accommodate Zach, who trudged along beside her as though she were taking him to the dentist for a filling. Hopefully the horses and kittens would provide the icebreaker she needed.
“So what’s your favorite animal?” she asked as they walked, dust kicking up from the dirt path.
“Dinosaurs.” He glared over at her, as if daring her to contradict his choice.
“Dinosaurs are cool. I bet you like the T. rex best.”
His eyes grew wide. “How did you know?”
“Most boys love them. I like the raptors.”
Zach’s eyes went even wider. “You know about raptors?”
“Sure. I’ve seen Jurassic Park, like, a hundred times.” She gave silent thanks for her brother’s obsession with dinosaurs years earlier.
“Me, too.”
“So what type of pet do you like best?”
“Dogs. But cats are okay, too.” He kicked at a stone on the path.
“George and Catherine have a golden retriever named Goliath. Maybe George will bring you over to see him.”
When they reached the stable, Paige grabbed the heavy wooden door that squeaked as it opened, and flipped on the overhead lights. The pungent odors of manure and hay assaulted their nostrils. Zach wrinkled his nose as he stepped inside.
“I’ll show you the horses first.” She led the way to a stall where a large brown head peered over the door. “This is Mabel. She’s our oldest mare.”
Zach hung back, scuffing the toe of his sneaker on the dirt floor. Most kids who’d never been around horses were nervous the first time they encountered one. She reached out to stroke Mabel’s nose, and the animal whinnied in greeting. “She’s very gentle. Would you like to pat her?”
The boy hesitated, eying the horse’s big head.
“I’ll show you how if you want.”
Zach looked up at her, brown eyes wide and uncertain. With the harshness of his scowl finally gone, Paige caught a glimpse of the vulnerable, lost child inside. Her heart squeezed with sympathy, knowing firsthand the pain and confusion that haunted him, and at that moment, she made her decision. Despite some lingering reservations, Paige resolved to do whatever she could, not only to help Zach get over the loss of his mother, but to heal his relationship with his father, as well. Zach needed to be able to depend on the only parent he had left.
Zach held out his hand. Paige took the warm fingers in hers, still sticky from Lou’s cookies, and reached up to place them on the mare’s nose. When he relaxed, she moved their hands up and down until he was stroking Mabel on his own.
“I think she likes you.” Paige’s comment earned a wavering smile from the boy. “Maybe next time we could bring her some treats. She loves apples and carrots.”
They continued down the corridor, greeting the gelding, Horatio, and two more mares, Sadie and Matilda. Zach’s confidence grew with each encounter.
“Will I get to ride one?”
“Probably. Jerry usually gives everyone a riding lesson.” She patted Matilda one more time and moved away from the stall.
“Who’s Jerry?”
“He helps me run the camp. Mainly he’s in charge of the sports and the outdoor activities.” Maybe if Zach knew there’d be a male involved with the camp—that it wasn’t just a bunch of girls—he’d be more excited.
“What kind of sports?”
“All kinds. Canoeing, swimming, volleyball, baseball. You name it, we play it.” She smiled down at him, grateful for the small spark of interest. She’d take any opening she could get. “Let’s go see if we can find Misty and her babies.”
* * *
Nathan tried to relax in one of the deck chairs on the big stone porch, but his mind was consumed with Zach and how he might be behaving—or misbehaving—with Paige McFarlane. Judging from his son’s initial reaction, Nathan doubted it was going well.
He stood and paced the deck, hands clasped behind his back. Never had he felt so frustrated, so helpless. Since Cynthia’s tragic death, Zach’s behavior had escalated in severity, and nothing Nathan said or did seemed to make a difference. It was a double blow to him since helping people was an integral part of who he was, both personally and professionally. As a pastor, he used to pride himself on his ability to shepherd his congregation through the worst times of their lives. But that all changed the moment his life fell apart, crumbling his faith.
Now he seemed incapable of helping anyone—least of all himself.
His thoughts turned to Paige McFarlane, and an uneasy emotion churned in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected—maybe someone with bifocals and a double chin. Certainly nothing had prepared him for her.
What kind of experience could she possibly have? Was he making a huge mistake entrusting his son’s emotional well-being to someone still in school?
Nathan sighed and looked at his watch. They’d been gone for almost an hour. Was that a good sign or bad? He started to say a prayer for his son, but anger rose up instead, and he pushed the thoughts away.
Praying was the last thing he could depend on. His wreck of a life proved that.
Paige smiled as she watched Zach cuddle the tiny ball of orange fluff close to his chest. After a few seconds, the pitiful mews stopped and the kitten curled up to sleep, soothed by Zach’s steady heartbeat. Seated beside him in the straw, Paige stroked Misty’s gray head, while three other wriggling bodies struggled to find a comfortable spot against their mother.
Paige glanced over at Zach, relieved to see the tense lines of his face had relaxed. “You like the orange one best?”
“Yeah. I’d name him Willy if he were mine.”
“Good name.” The slight upturn of his mouth in response sent a thrill of satisfaction through her. “Do you have any pets at home?”
The hard, angry look returned. “My dad won’t let me.”
Paige’s heart clutched, remembering how her old hound dog, Chester, had