“Yes, it is—and I have some news for you.” She settled onto the bench, and Steve took her crutches. “There’s going to be a festival here in town next month I think you’d enjoy.”

As she proceeded to tell him about the event, Steve tuned in too.

Noah became so engrossed that he stopped eating. “That sounds epic!”

“Best of all, there will be sessions for younger folks too—including one on art and another on sandcastle building.”

“Wow. I hope I can come.”

“If your foster dad approves, maybe Steve and I could bring you.”

Steve’s breath hitched.

Beth wanted to commit to an event for the three of them four weeks down the road?

Hallelujah!

“I’ll ask him. I don’t think he’ll mind, as long as I give him advance notice.” He pulled one of the wrapped bundles out of the bag and set it in front of her. “You should eat, or your tacos will get cold.”

“I’ve been waiting all morning for these.” She sniffed the savory aroma as she unwrapped the package. “And I brought dessert too. Chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.”

“My favorite?” Another encouraging development.

“Yes.” Her color deepened again, and she made a project out of tucking a piece of red onion back into her taco.

“Noah, you’re in for a treat. Beth bakes the best cookies in the whole world.”

“I love cookies!” The boy beamed at both of them, dived back into his taco, and chattered away for the rest of the meal as he responded to Beth’s interest and attention.

A rush of tenderness washed over Steve at the transformation in his young friend. The boy sitting in the park today was one-eighty from the subdued, beleaguered child in the school cafeteria.

Amazing how warmth and kindness could transform a life.

And this boy needed a heaping dose of both, based on the information in his file. A father who’d disappeared, a mother who’d died from a drug overdose, three foster homes in the space of as many years—and a possible history of abuse. Despite the attempts of the social worker to ferret out the truth, Noah had never admitted to being ill-treated by his mother—but his malnourished condition and suspicious bruises when he’d been taken under the wing of the child welfare folks were telling.

Those had healed—but who knew what other, less-visible wounds remained?

Beth would help heal those, though. For however long their lives continued to intersect, the boy would blossom under his wife’s caring touch. She had a way of bringing out the best in people—even if her husband had been a slow learner.

That, however, would change going forward. He was a different man now. And he’d prove it to her every day for the rest of his life, if she gave him that chance.