She enjoyed working with Shelly. They were putting the finishing touches on the trim in the master bedroom right then.

“Everything going well in here?” Steve asked, stepping into the room to check their progress.

“Moving like a runaway freight train,” Cassie assured him.

“Then slow down. There’s no need to rush.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” she teased.

He smiled and returned to the kitchen, where he was laying down linoleum with George.

“Steve says that at the pace we’re progressing, George and I might be able to move in two or three weeks.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Cassie had a piece of good news herself. Habitat had purchased a vacant lot in the same school district where Amiee attended classes, which might mean she could stay in the same school even when they got their new house. This was especially gratifying after all the moves her daughter had made in her young life. What Cassie longed for most was to give Amiee love and a deep sense of security—uprooting her every few months had been traumatic for her daughter. It had gotten better after Cassie left Duke, but only slightly. The thought of a permanent home for her and Amiee was more than she ever dreamed possible.

“Cassie, would you …” Shelly asked.

Cassie turned around, but as she did, her foot slipped on a splotch of wet paint. Before she realized what was happening, she took a tumble. She heard the sleeve of her jacket tear and then felt a pain sharp enough to make her gasp.

Shelly raced across the room. “You okay?”

“I think so.” Cassie was more stunned than hurt, although she could see blood gushing down her arm.

“It doesn’t look like it. Stay here,” Shelly shouted in a panic. “Don’t move.”

“I’m fine, Shelly,” Cassie insisted, although her arm really did sting. She couldn’t get a good look at it but could feel it was bleeding badly. Worst of all, her jacket was ruined. It wasn’t like she had a closet bursting with a huge wardrobe. She should never have worn it.

“Cassie’s hurt.” Shelly shouted for Steve, and Cassie heard the panic in her friend’s voice.

It didn’t take a minute for Steve to find her.

Shelly stood protectively over Cassie. “I told her not to move.”

“Good.” Steve got down on one knee next to Cassie. “You did the right thing.”

His face was grim and she half expected a lecture. “Better let me see what you did to yourself,” he said. Looking over his shoulder, he asked Shelly to get the first-aid kit.

“I’m okay,” Cassie insisted, embarrassed by all the fuss.

“I’m better qualified to judge that.” The jacket sleeve was torn already, and he ripped it wide open to get a better view of the injury.

Shelly returned and handed Steve the first-aid kit.

“Thanks,” he said, as he opened it and removed a thick wad of gauze, which he pressed against the cut.

“There’s a lot of blood,” Shelly commented, her eyes brooding and serious. Because it was on the back of her arm, Cassie couldn’t get a good look at the cut.

“It looks deep,” George murmured, standing next to his wife. He, too, wore a look of concern.

Shelly’s face was grim.

Steve sighed and announced, “I’m afraid you’re going to need stitches.”

Even without the ability to look, Cassie was sure the cut couldn’t possibly be that bad. “It’ll be fine. Just wrap it up so it quits bleeding and I’ll be good as new. It hardly hurts—if you put a bandage on it I’ll go back to work.”

“You’re going, all right,” Steve insisted. “You’ll go directly to the ER.”

“Steve,” she protested.

His hard gaze met hers. “I would think by now you’d know better than to argue with me.”

She could put up a fuss, but Cassie recognized all the complaining in the world wouldn’t do her any good. “All right, if you insist.”

“I do.” With a gentleness she didn’t expect from him, he helped her to her feet. He gave her a few moments to steady herself and kept his arm tucked securely around her waist.

By the time he got Cassie settled inside his truck, her arm was throbbing with such intensity that she was forced to grit her teeth to keep from moaning. The drive to the hospital seemed to take an excruciatingly long time. Neither spoke. By the time they arrived, Cassie was beginning to feel light-headed. Steve parked close to the entrance.

“Stay put. I’ll come around and get you.”

She waited until he collected her and slid out of the vehicle, but her knees nearly buckled when her feet hit the pavement. Right away Steve’s arm was around her, holding her upright.

The waiting room seemed to be packed. To her surprise, she was called in almost right away. Steve might have had some influence, but that didn’t seem possible. Or perhaps she was worse off than she realized.

“The paperwork?” she asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

The physician was a woman who, after examining the cut, gave Cassie a shot for the pain.

The last time Cassie had been in a hospital had been a life-altering moment. The physician had been a woman then, too. Cassie had had yet another “accident” because she was so “clumsy.” That was what Duke had told the attending physician. Her arm was broken and both eyes were black and blue. The female doctor had questioned her extensively. She knew, and Cassie knew she knew. The look in the other woman’s eyes told Cassie she’d figured out that this was no accident.

Then Duke picked up on it, too. As soon as the cast was on, her husband had jerked Cassie off the examination table and dragged her away. As they fled the hospital, Cassie saw security chasing after them. She suspected the physician had already contacted law enforcement. What Duke didn’t know was that the doctor had managed to slip Cassie the phone number of a women’s shelter. It was to that very shelter that Cassie had escaped a few weeks later.

Steve remained in the waiting room while she was being attended to by the medical staff. The cut was deeper and larger than she realized and required twelve stitches.

When she was finished, the nurse escorted her to the waiting area, where Steve was pacing. He stopped when he saw her. Their eyes connected and Cassie thought she might have seen a look of relief in him.

“I’m good as new,” she told him, her reassuring smile wobbly at best.

“Glad to hear it.” He led her out of the hospital and across the parking lot to his vehicle, and carefully helped her inside. She grimaced at the pain the effort caused her just climbing into his pickup.

“Did you get a prescription for pain?” he asked, and held out his hand expectantly. “Give it to me.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I’ll get it filled for you.”

Cassie’s head was swimming. “Oh, I don’t have much cash and—”

“I’ll worry about that later.” His tone told her this wasn’t a subject he was willing to discuss.

Too weak to argue, Cassie closed her eyes and braced her head against the side window. He stopped off at the drugstore.

Cassie remained in the truck as Steve went inside to collect her meds. She leaned her head against the window and remembered when her sister had been badly cut. Cassie had been about fourteen when Nichole ran through the sliding glass door. Their mother was at the grocery store and Karen was with friends, so Cassie was the only one home and had nearly panicked. The sight of all that blood had horrified her, but she’d kept her cool and called 911. Wrapping her sister’s arm in towels, she did what she could to comfort Nichole and assure her she wasn’t going to die, although at the time Cassie had serious doubts. Karen walked in a couple minutes later and took one look at Nichole and burst into tears, which terrified Nichole all the more. The ambulance arrived and took Nichole away. Karen, who had her driver’s license, followed along with Cassie. Unfortunately, their mother returned from the grocery store to find the kitchen a bloody mess. It was a day Cassie would long remember.

After Nichole was stitched up and returned home, Cassie and Karen stayed with her the rest of the afternoon, reading to her and telling her how brave she was. They promised to let her use their makeup. That afternoon, Nichole lay with her head on Cassie’s lap, and just before she fell asleep she thanked Cassie for saving her life.