A Family for Faith
Missy Tippens
When Faith Hagin sees widower cop Gabe Reynolds every day in her coffee shop, she can't help but feel for the struggling single dad. She's raised a teenager of her own–and sadly, knows what not to do.But thanks to his matchmaking preteen daughter, Chelsea, the whole town's praying for Gabe to find a wife! Even though Faith thinks she's content being just friends, spending time with him and Chelsea starts to feel like a fresh start at having a family. And their love may be the answer to everyone's prayers.
“I want y’all to find a bunch of people to be praying for my dad…to find a girlfriend.”
“Not on the church-wide prayer chain, Chelsea,” Faith protested.
“His whole life is this town and me—specifically keeping me his overly safe little girl. I want him to have some fun.”
Faith wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Surely it was a good plan. But a girlfriend? On the prayer chain?
“What do you think, Faith?” Chelsea asked.
“When would he have time to go out?”
“That’s the point. He needs to make time. To be forced to make time.”
Faith wasn’t so enthused. All she could think about as she waved goodbye to Chelsea was that Gabe would be angry. And she would be miserable.
But why would watching Gabe go out and have fun make her miserable? Did she feel more than a neighborly connection with Gabe? More than friendship?
MISSY TIPPENS
Born and raised in Kentucky, Missy met her very own hero when she headed off to grad school in Atlanta, Georgia. She promptly fell in love and hasn’t left Georgia since. She and her pastor husband have been married twenty-plus years now, and have been blessed with three wonderful children and an assortment of pets. Nowadays, in addition to her writing, she teaches as an adjunct instructor at a local technical college.
Missy is thankful to God that she’s been called to write stories of love and faith. After ten years of pursuing her dream of being published, she made her first sale of a full-length novel to the Steeple Hill Love Inspired line. She still pinches herself to see if it really happened!
Missy would love to hear from readers through her website, www.missytippens.com, or by email at missytippens@aol.com. For those with no internet access, you can reach her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.
A Family for Faith
Missy Tippens
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
—1 Corinthians 13:13
There is no fear in love, but full-grown love turns fear out of doors and expels every trace of terror! For fear brings with it the thought of punishment, and he who is afraid has not reached the full maturity of love.
—1 John 4:18
To my two wonderful sons—both amazing young men. And to my wonderful daughter—a joy at age thirteen. Thank you for making life so fun!
To my husband for unwavering love and support.
To God for allowing me a career I love so much.
To the father and daughter on the flight from D.C. to Atlanta who inspired this story.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Lindi Peterson, Ruthy Logan Herne and my sister-in-law for research assistance.
As always, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Emily Rodmell and the team at Love Inspired.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
Chapter One
Gabe Reynolds paced the photo-lined hallway, back and forth past baby and childhood pictures of his daughter, past the door where that same daughter did whatever preteen girls did behind closed doors. Considering the amount of time he spent coaxing her out of there these days, he figured he’d wear a path in the finish of the hardwood floor by the time his only child was grown and gone—something he intended to delay as long as possible.
He finally stopped and banged on the bathroom door. “Hurry up, Chels. You’ll be late.”
His dear, sweet daughter growled at him. Growled.
With a badge on his chest and weapon at his hip, he should be prepared to deal with anything. But give him a drunk or a thief any day over this soon-to-be-teenage-girl business.
He pounded the door again. “I’ve gotta get back to the station. What are you doing in there?”
“For the thousandth time, I’m coming.”
He knew without a doubt that she was in there rolling her eyes at him. “What’s taking so long?”
“A work of art takes time,” she said in her best theatrical voice. Then she giggled, more like her normal, little girl self.
This switching from girl to young woman then back to girl in the blink of an eye was making his head spin. “You better not be putting on makeup.”
“I’m a teenager. All my friends wear makeup.”
“You’re not thirteen yet. And if all your friends jumped off—”
She yanked the door open so fast it banged into the wall. She glared at him. “No. If all my friends jumped off a bridge, I would not jump, too. This is totally different and you know it.”
Her cheeks glowed with a too-bright pink that matched her tinted lips. Her mascaraed eyelashes, clumped into several uneven spikes, seemed a mile longer than usual. She looked grown-up. Too grown-up—the kind that would attract the attention of guys. “All I know is I forbade you to wear makeup and…and…” He jabbed his finger at the pile of containers on the bathroom counter. “That looks an awful lot like makeup. Where’d you get it?”
She huffed and tossed her dark curls over her shoulder. “I bought it with my allowance. And I’m learning to put it on so it accentuates my best features.”
She was accentuated, all right. And sounded like she was spouting something she’d seen on an infomercial. He squinted as he checked out her face, so much like her mother’s it made it hard to look sometimes. And even though he had the urge to drop the subject and run the other direction, it was his job to deal with this kind of situation now. “You’ve got on lipstick. Wipe it off.”
“I want to look nice for our youth group meeting at the church tonight.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “No reason.” She fingered a small picture frame on the counter, then quickly placed it facedown before he could see whose photo it held. “Now, please let me finish. I’ll be out in five minutes.”
A boy. It had to be because of a boy. “Who is he?”
“Who’s who?”
“The boy. The one you’re putting makeup on for.”
She rubbed a finger with brown sparkly goop over her eyelid. “No one. I’m doing it for myself.”
“Hand it over.”
She sighed and slapped a little compact into his hand. “There, are you happy? No more eye shadow.”
“No. Hand over the photo. Of the boy.” He reached toward the picture frame.
“No!” She stopped him by grabbing hold of his hand. She looked terrified.
Which terrified him. If the guy was some high school punk, Gabe would be out the door and into the squad car in five seconds flat.
He shook Chelsea’s hand off and grabbed the gold frame. But he didn’t find some guy. All the frustration and fear whooshed out of him along with his breath when he found his wife. His sweet, beautiful wife.
Once he recovered his equilibrium, he said, “Chels, why do you have your mom’s picture in here?”
She gave a little shrug, this time not so rebellious. “I told you. I’m learning to put on makeup.”
Pain steamrolled him flat to the floor as he remembered Chelsea watching her mom put on lipstick on Sunday mornings before church and often asking if she could have some. Tina would smile, kiss a pink lip print on Chelsea’s cheek and promise to show her when she got older.
Now here their daughter was, studying Tina’s face, learning to apply lipstick by herself. Gabe ached for Chels. Ached period.
It had been five years since the accident, and just when he was making headway and felt like he might finally be able to breathe again, this had to happen.
“Please, Dad?” She took the frame from his hand and held the photo up beside her face. “See? I tried to do just what she did.”
He wanted to hug her. To protect her from any more pain in her young life. She needed her mom, especially for moments like this. But no, all she had was a cop dad who didn’t have a guess at how to handle his daughter growing up. He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. But you’re just not old enough. You’ll have to wash that stuff off your face.”
She heaved a sigh that seemed to start at her toenails. “Okay.” She stared at the photo for a second. “Do I look pretty?” She’d said it so softly he wasn’t sure he heard her right. But then she turned to him and waited, looking everywhere but directly at him.
Oh, boy. “Well, now, I guess you better let me get a good look at you.”
She smiled shyly as she looked up, but then the smile went crooked as she gnawed on her lip. He had a feeling she wasn’t quite as comfortable being in makeup as she thought she would be.
“You look beautiful. Always.”
“I do look a little like Mom, don’t I?”
He breathed in through his nose, then forced a smile. “Even prettier.”
“Thanks.” She threw her arms around his waist, and for a split second, all was as it should be. Or at least it was back to the norm of the last few years. It would never again be as it should be.
He gave her a quick pat on the back before stepping away.
A horn honked outside. Chelsea’s ride to church.
“Hurry. You know Gary and Audra have other kids to pick up.”
“Go tell ’em I’ve got to wash my face and to wait up.”
“Okay. Hey, I’m making your favorite dinner this evening. Tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.”
She splashed water on her face. “Daaad. You know we eat at church. And I guess I forgot to tell you a bunch of us are hanging out tonight after the meeting.”
All he could do was groan as he walked away. Why couldn’t everything just stay simple? Go to work. Come home. Eat dinner. Watch a little TV. Go to bed. But Chelsea had insisted on staying involved in the church.
The youth counselors had been kind to offer to drive her every week. Of course, they volunteered for everything at the church while he, on the other hand, didn’t even make it to Sunday-morning worship on the rare Sundays he was off.
The services didn’t feel right with that empty seat beside him.
When he stepped outside, the hot, humid air slapped him in the face. Another stifling July evening in Corinthia, Georgia, that made him long for winter. A blue Ford sat in his driveway with the engine running. It looked like the one that belonged to his next-door neighbor, Faith Hagin.
She rolled down her window and waved. “I’m filling in for Audra and Gary tonight.”
“She’ll just be a minute,” he hollered.
Faith had bought the local coffee shop and moved to town about a year ago. Though she tended to keep to herself, he’d gotten to know her a little as they worked in their yards and through his daily visits to her café for coffee and homemade pastries. They mainly talked about work, but he’d found out bits and pieces about her family.
He’d learned she was divorced and had a teenage son. For some reason—and Gabe hadn’t pried—the boy lived with his dad. Gabe hadn’t pushed Faith on the topic as they’d gradually formed a sort-of friendship. He figured it wasn’t his business. But if she was going to be helping with the church youth…
Chelsea barreled outside. As she spotted the car, she came to a stop. “Is that Faith?”
“Yes. Looks like she’s driving tonight.”
“Cool.” Chelsea went around to the passenger side of the car as Gabe ambled to Faith’s open window. Air-conditioning blasted him in the face.
“I’ll bring her home by nine,” she said.
“Why so late?”
Chelsea rolled her eyes and shook her head, exasperated. “I told you. We’re hanging out.”
He wasn’t positive, but it looked as if Chelsea had reapplied the pink lipstick. He squinted, trying to see better, while worrying about her “hanging out” with a group that included high school–age youth. Ignoring the possible makeup infraction for the moment, he asked Faith, “Where are they hanging out?”
Faith gave him a sympathetic smile and he once again wondered about her relationship with her son. It seemed she understood his worry. “At the café tonight for some decaf and live music.”
He’d heard her coffee shop was turning into a regular teen hangout. But Chelsea, too? “As long as you’re there with them…”
“Of course.” She pointed at the seat belt to remind Chelsea to buckle. “She’ll be fine.”
“Thanks.” He leaned inside the window and couldn’t help but notice how good it smelled inside. He filled his lungs and wondered if his daughter was wearing perfume. But he hadn’t smelled it in the house.
He glanced at Faith and, for the first time, wondered if she wore makeup. He couldn’t really tell for sure. She was a natural beauty, with light brown hair she pulled into a ponytail and gorgeous greenish-blue eyes. He’d never noticed her wearing that particular flowery fragrance.
She shifted the car into Reverse. “You know, if you’re worried about her, I hear they’re always looking for more volunteers to help with the youth.”
Why did someone bring that up every single week? It was all he could manage to drop off Chelsea on Sunday mornings.
Time for a subject change. “New perfume?”
She seemed surprised, but then she raised her eyebrows as if impressed. “Ah, so you’re a master of avoidance.”
His sweet daughter snorted a laugh. “Yep. Avoiding me growing up.”
He snapped his mouth closed on his automatic rebuttal and decided he wasn’t going to get drawn into that trap. Though, surely Faith would see his view on the subject. “See you at nine.” As he patted the car door to let them leave, Chels smiled at Faith, and a sheen of forbidden gloss on her pink lips flickered in the evening sun.
They honked and waved. As they drove away, toward the church, he realized just how empty his world was whenever Chelsea left. Eventually, he’d have to “get a life” as Chels always told him. But for now, he had to focus on her—and on figuring out how in the world she had managed to pull one over on him yet again.
Faith wasn’t sure how the youth counselors, Gary and Audra, had roped her into driving the group of kids. She planned to help this once, then get back to service more in line with her gifts—cooking, cleaning, volunteering in the church office…
After picking up the last child who needed a ride to the Sunday-evening youth group meeting, Faith observed the four middle schoolers in her vehicle, the two girls giggling and the two boys jostling each other around. Her son, Ben, had moved in with his dad five years ago, during seventh grade. Watching the seventh and eighth graders interact made her ache for what she’d missed. Of course, Ben hadn’t been in a good place in seventh grade. He’d hooked up with a bad crowd and hadn’t taken part in the joyful laughter and harmless teasing this bunch of kids enjoyed.
Like the oppressive humid air, guilt settled over her, pressing her into the contours of the car seat, making it difficult to breathe…reminding her what a failure she’d been.
She forced air into her lungs and tried not to think of the past. Ben was doing great now and that’s what mattered.
“We’re here.” Faith dropped the noisy middle school youth at the back of the church where they found the others outside throwing a fluorescent-green Frisbee. “I’ll see you for coffee later.”
“Thanks!” they called as they piled out of her SUV.
Her pastor, Phil, flagged her down as he pulled a cloth hanky out of his pocket and swiped it across his brow and into his graying temples. “As you may have heard, Audra and Gary are moving, so I could really use your help with the youth.”
Teens dealing with peer pressure, sex, drugs. Dealing with crises of faith. Asking my advice…
It pained her to tell anyone no when they needed her. Especially Phil, who had been kind and tried to make her feel welcome from the day she moved to town. But as much as she loved kids and would like to help, there was no way she was prepared for a youth leadership position. If Phil knew her track record with Ben, he probably wouldn’t even ask.
Besides, her work schedule wouldn’t permit it. “Phil, you know I’d do anything—clean the church, produce the bulletin, cook the meals. But with my café to run I can’t make such a big weekly commitment.”
“Think about it. They’d really like you.”
“I’m sure I’d love them. But this summer is crazy enough with getting ready for Ben’s visit.”
“Maybe in the fall.” He waved goodbye as he headed toward the air-conditioned building. “Hey, I look forward to meeting Ben.”
Yes, Ben. Her number one priority continued to be her relationship with her son. Soon to be a senior, he would graduate and move off to college before she knew it. Since he lived forty-five minutes away with his dad—and lived and breathed baseball year-round—time with him was scarce. He’d be coming soon to stay for two weeks. She couldn’t wait, especially since he’d canceled his visit the previous summer. After having to settle for quick trips to ball games or his dad’s house for the past year, she looked forward to uninterrupted time together and wanted it to be perfect.
First on her to-do list was to train Natalie to run the café while Faith was on vacation with her son so she could give him undivided attention.
It was her last chance to heal their relationship.
“I need a life,” Chelsea said later that night as Faith drove toward home, the last orange and pink rays of the sunset fading on the horizon.
Join the club, she almost said without thinking. Thirty-four years old, divorced half a lifetime ago from a man who chose the partying college life over his wife and new baby, with a nearly grown son who acted like she didn’t exist. Yes, she also needed a life. “Give your dad a break. He’s used to the little girl who depended on him for everything.”
She sighed and looked at Faith with twinkling brown eyes—more like milk chocolate than the dark chocolate of her father’s. “I had so much fun tonight. Why can’t he let me hang out with my friends more often?”
“You’re twelve, not sixteen. Be patient.”
With arms crossed and head shaking, Chelsea tsked, sounding and looking like an adult. “Twelve is old enough to spend the night at my best friend’s house. He won’t even let me do that. And he caught me putting on makeup today and made me wash it off.”
“You’re beautiful without it.” Just like her mother had been. Faith had seen the photos in Gabe’s living room.
It had to be tough for a girl Chelsea’s age to go through so many life changes without a mom around. Though Faith’s dad deserted them when she was about the same age, at least she’d had her mom during that transitional time.
“Well, I like wearing makeup. And it’s going to be a constant battle. Unless…”
She cut a glance in Chelsea’s direction. “Unless what?”
“Unless you help me.”
Oh, boy. Even though she and Gabe had formed a bit of a friendship over coffee, he’d always been private where family matters were concerned. He would not want her butting in. “I’m sure he’s doing what’s best for you.”
“I don’t think he’d be so stubborn if my mom were here. So maybe if you could sweet-talk him about the makeup…and about letting me hang out at the café…” She turned and pretty much begged with her big brown eyes.
Faith shouldn’t get involved. She had her own family mess to deal with and might cause a bigger one with Gabe’s family.
But poor Chelsea. It did sound like Gabe was being overly protective. And she knew personally how that could backfire. He could certainly stand to give Chelsea a little bit of freedom. “If I get the chance, I’ll see what I can do.”
Chelsea squeezed Faith’s arm and squealed. “Thank you!”
Of course, Faith had heard the stories of how Chelsea nearly died in the auto accident that killed her mother. She’d spent months in the hospital and rehab. Faith would probably be protective, too, in that situation.
Just thinking about it brought back memories of worrying about her son when he moved two hours away from her former home in Augusta to live with his dad and stepmom in Atlanta. Will they love him as much as I do? Will they discipline him like he needs? Will they protect him?
What utter helplessness…and rejection. Pain she never wanted to feel again.
When she and Chelsea arrived at the house, Gabe stood on his front porch with his arms crossed in front of him. “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry.” Faith’s watch showed a mere ten minutes after nine. “Had to get the café ready for the morning.”
“Understandable. But Chels, you should have called.”
“I would’ve if I weren’t the only person on earth without a cell phone.” She smirked at him and, judging by his scowl, it was not a good thing to do at the moment.
“The café has a landline. Now go on in and get ready for bed.”
“Man, I was just teasing.” With all the earlier joy wiped off her face, she stomped inside and slung the door shut with a bang.
Let it go, Faith. Don’t butt in.
But she’d promised Chelsea. “Gabe, may I offer a suggestion?”
She couldn’t read his expression as he recrossed his arms. For a second, she thought he would refuse.
“I guess,” he said instead.
He didn’t exactly look receptive, but she plowed ahead anyway. “Lots of kids Chelsea’s age are allowed to do things with their friends. Could you maybe consider giving her a little wiggle room?”
“If you give an inch…”
“She’s a good girl.”
“And she’s also strong willed.”
Faith knew a whole lot about strong-willed children. She’d tried to raise one and had struggled the whole time. “You can’t be too hard on Chelsea or she might rebel.”
Memories of Ben storming out of the house—and stumbling back in—brought a wave of nausea. Who was she, a total failure at motherhood, to give advice?
He stared into her eyes as if he was thinking it over. But then the staring went on just a moment too long and she felt like she was being examined. Could he see through to the real Faith Hagin?
She tightened her ponytail as the chirping of the cicadas crescendoed in the otherwise silent night. She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans to keep from fidgeting. “What?”
“I’m just trying to figure out if you wear makeup.”
Makeup? “I, uh, don’t usually wear makeup. It’s too much trouble when I have to go to work so early. But I did put on a little for church this morning.”
He stepped closer, gently took hold of her chin and tilted her face up so he could see better in the porch light. But his touch didn’t linger and he acted surprised to have done it.
She backed up a step. “I could teach Chelsea how to apply basic cosmetics—enough to appease her.” Faith’s face blazed with heat, especially where he’d touched her.
His dark brown eyes bore into hers, as if he still held her under a microscope. A searing blush crept to her chest and seemed to squeeze her heart.
He finally blinked and stepped back toward the door. “You’re a natural beauty. I don’t see much difference between most days and Sunday.”
His matter-of-fact declaration made her heart skip a beat or two.
Before she could put two coherent words together, he shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but no. I’m not going to give on the makeup issue.” Scattered thoughts—he thinks I’m a natural beauty?—ricocheted around in her head. But she managed to refocus on Chelsea. “She’s almost a teenager, Gabe. You’ll have to start letting go eventually.”
He straightened up into his big, bad Chief of Police stance. “She’s my daughter. I know what’s best for her.”
And she’d thought she’d known what was best for her son. She’d been very protective of him, too. Trying to make sure he didn’t go down the drinking-and-partying path his dad had gone down many years before. But her controlling had pushed Ben in the opposite direction.
For some reason, she needed to make Gabe understand. “Yes, you do know what’s best. But sometimes, knowing best doesn’t matter. If we smother them and don’t give them room to become independent, we set them up to make bad decisions.”
He studied her through squinted eyes, this time with suspicion. “You sound like you speak from experience.”
“Yeah. I’d been left by my dad and my husband and thought if I worked hard enough I could hang on to my son. But it pushed him right into a group of friends who were an awful influence.”
She snapped her mouth shut before she revealed more. The townspeople knew Ben lived with his dad and that he was too busy with sports to come visit. But she’d never shared with anyone the details of her son’s problems in middle school, about his begging to live with his dad in Atlanta—about how he thrived once he moved there. When she moved to Corinthia a year ago to be closer to Ben, it was also to get away from the years of strange looks from former friends, to get away from the sideways glances. What’s wrong with Faith that her son did so poorly in her care, then had a complete turnaround when he got away from her?
“I’m sorry, Faith. I didn’t realize all you’ve been through,” he said. “I’ll keep your advice in mind.”
She’d promised Chelsea she’d try to talk to him and she had. Duty fulfilled. “Okay, then. Good night.” She hurried down the porch stairs and along the front walk. By the time she reached the grass between their houses, she heard footsteps behind her.
“Hold up a second, Faith.” When Gabe reached her, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look, I’m sorry. I appreciate your offer to help. I do. But…” He looked at his feet. At the sky. At her house. “I know you’re right about Chelsea. In my head, I know it. But in here—” he thumped a fist on his chest “—I can’t go there yet.”
Her heart ached at the look of pain on his face. “Children can do that to the best of us.”
“Yeah.” He rocked back on his heels. “I guess I actually could use your help. Some female guidance for Chelsea since she’s been pushing for independence. I’ve got to do something. I can’t let her…” His voice hitched.
Why, Lord? Why get me involved in this? She wished she could simply tell him good luck and turn away. But as if God Himself were forcing the words out of her mouth, she said, “What can I do?”
The breath huffed out of him and his tense expression eased. He laughed. “I have no idea.”
His smile ravaged her already tender nerves. She’d always thought he was handsome. Especially when in uniform. But seeing him in angst over his young daughter sent his attractiveness to a whole new level.
“Well, I can tell you she was glowing with happiness after hanging out at the café tonight. Anything you can do to let her spend more time with friends will go a long way.”
He crossed his arms as he digested that bit of information. “Have the kids her age been coming to the café this summer?”
“Yes, some.”
“Can Chels hang out with you one day this week?”
Oh, I don’t think so was pushing at the edge of her lips. But the earnest look on his face snapped her lips tightly closed. Instead, she uttered, “Of course. How about tomorrow?”
The strong, rugged man smiled, his nearly-black eyes beaming in the moonlight. He took hold of both her hands and gave a quick squeeze. “I appreciate your help.”
What on earth was she doing? She should run in the other direction. She didn’t have any business taking a middle school girl under her wing. Chelsea was right about the age Ben had been when he started rebelling. Her kid with all A’s had done an about-face and had started on the slippery slope toward becoming a juvenile delinquent. And by the time Faith realized what was happening, she’d been too late to stop it.
What if Faith failed with Chelsea, too? What if her advice to Gabe backfired?
“I’ll bring her by during my lunch break tomorrow,” he said. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Sure. Anytime.”
“Good night, Faith.”
His warm, deep voice brushed along her nerves, almost like a brush of his hand, soothing her.
He was a kind man. A good father. A strong leader in the community.
But he was hurting. Probably still grieving. Struggling with a strong-willed daughter.
Okay, so it looked as if God may have put Faith in a position to help father and daughter. She would do what she could. But she better not fail this time.
Chapter Two
Gabe couldn’t resist. The next afternoon, a couple of hours after he dropped off Chelsea and traded cell phone numbers with Faith, he cruised by the coffee shop in his squad car and tried to get a glimpse of Chelsea, to see how it was going. Maybe buying her a cell phone with the stipulation she check in regularly wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Ever since Chelsea hit middle school, she’d been begging for the chance to stay home alone. And the previous Friday, he’d actually set the rarely used alarm system and left her alone. But it had been the longest two hours of his life. What if she falls…or burns herself or a stranger comes knocking?
Letting her hang out at the coffee shop was only marginally better.
He yanked out his cell phone and dialed Faith’s cell number.
“She’s fine,” she said instead of answering with hello.
Apparently, he was predictable. “Thanks. Don’t tell her I checked up on her.”
Laughter sounded in the background. And not all of it was female. “Your secret is safe,” she said over the din.
He wanted to know exactly who was there doing all that laughing—in that bass voice. “Is Chelsea with a boy?”
“Um. Some of her friends stopped by.” He sensed a bit of hesitation. As if she hadn’t really wanted to give out that info.
“Thanks.” He ended the call and parked, even though he knew Faith would take good care of Chelsea. Even though he knew his daughter would think he was interfering with her brief stint of independence.
Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on work if he didn’t investigate.
He nodded and waved to passersby, calling each by name, as he strode down the blistering-hot sidewalk. Gabe’s smile held as he opened the door to Faith’s Coffee Time Café.
Faith really had a knack for decorating. Since she’d bought the shop a year ago, she’d made the place feel homey and inviting with a couple of groupings of comfy chairs, tables with Mason jars full of fresh flowers, a display case holding mouthwatering pastries, the perpetual smell of coffee and, normally, soft Christian music in the background.
But today, giggling drowned out the music.
When Faith spotted him, her face screwed up into a wince. She made shooing motions with her hand, as if he were some irritating fly buzzing around the place.
He ignored her warning and meandered toward the table, trying to catch snippets of the conversation—all the while eyeballing the boy sitting glued to Chelsea’s side.
The kid with flyaway blond hair and freckles seemed way more than friendly. He and Chelsea had separated a bit from the group, were in their own little conversation. He had his arm around the back of her chair and practically had his tongue hanging out of his mouth like some lovesick puppy dog.
“Chels?” Her name cracked across the café, louder than he’d intended.
More-than-friendly boy popped straight up to standing. He looked familiar, like maybe he was one of those troublemaking Pruitt boys. “Hello, sir,” he said. But his voice, in the middle of changing, squeaked halfway through the greeting.
Chelsea’s two friends—Valerie and Theresa—laughed.
Chelsea didn’t. “Dad? What are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to make sure you and Faith were doing okay.”
“We’re fine.” She stared him down, anger narrowing her eyes and making her face splotchy red.
Too bad. “Well, I’m not sure this was such a good idea.” He gave a nod of his head toward the boy. Then, to Chelsea, said, “It might be time to go.”
“I’m just hanging out with some friends from church. I don’t want to leave.”
Her ramrod straight back probably matched his at the moment. She might look like her mother with her light brown eyes and long, curly hair, but he could only blame himself for her stubborn streak.
They stared at each other in a face-off.
“Good grief,” Faith mumbled as she approached the table. “You two are certainly cut from the same cloth.”
Gabe glanced at Faith. “I think it’s time to break up this little party.”
“I’ll leave, sir,” the boy beside Chelsea said, the sir coming out an octave higher.
“Which Pruitt are you?” Gabe barked.
“Parker, sir.” The kid was terrified. Acted like he thought he would be arrested for talking to the chief’s daughter.
If only it were that easy.
“Gabe…” Faith’s sweet, conciliatory tone was wasted on him.
They were talking hormones here. Male and female in close proximity. Male and his daughter in close proximity. “Time to go, Chels. Tell your friends bye.”
“Chief Reynolds,” Valerie said. “Please let her stay. My mom just ran to pick up a prescription. She’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“I better go,” blurted the young Pruitt boy.
About time he took the hint. The boy couldn’t get out the door fast enough.
Good. Maybe he wouldn’t come back.
Chelsea snatched up her purse and stormed out of the café not far behind Pruitt.
Faith shook her head, then walked over behind the counter. As if he’d failed some test.
He followed her there and he couldn’t help but notice how good she smelled. Like last night only with the added sweetness of the pastries. And the coffee. All his favorite smells. “Why are you looking at me as if I’m the villain here?”
She got right in his face and whispered, “You knew she’d be safe here with me. Why’d you have to embarrass her and ruin her fun?”
“Because she’s too young to be sneaking off with boys.”
Faith’s mouth fell open as a huff whooshed out. “She didn’t sneak off. The others decided to come—as a group, I might add—once they found out Chelsea was here.”
“And how did they know she was here?” He drummed his fingers on the counter. “That Pruitt boy—”
“Parker.”
“Those Pruitts are bad news. Parker had his arm around her. He was practically drooling on her.”
Faith glanced at Valerie and Theresa. “I was watching every move, ready to step in. Nothing inappropriate happened.” She snapped a paper towel off the roll and wiped something off the counter. “You asked me to watch her and now you don’t trust my judgment.”
Great. Faith was trying to help him, and he’d made her—and his daughter—mad at him in one fell swoop.
“Look, I’m sorry. This is new territory.”
With a white-knuckled grip, she attacked a coffee ring on the counter. “I understand. You better go check on her.”
He’d really blown it. He tried to smile as he threw his hand up in a wave and walked out. When he got to the squad car and saw Chelsea inside in a heap of misery, a wave of regret plowed into him.
He climbed in quietly. “Chels, what’s wrong?”
She laughed even as she sobbed. “You’re kidding, right?”
He had no clue how to kiss it and make it better these days. They were well beyond that stage.
Pitiful black-tinged tears spilled over her reddened cheeks.
“You broke the rules and wore mascara again.”
Without acknowledging him, she turned her back and huddled against the passenger door. “Get me out of here before someone sees me.”
He drove home slowly, missing his normally cheerful child. As they walked inside the empty house, he tried to put his arm around her shoulders and give her a quick squeeze. She jerked away from him and ran to her room, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows.
The ensuing silence roared in his ears. He couldn’t stand it, so he turned on the television. Which didn’t help much. One of the things he missed most about Tina was the way she’d filled the house with music. She either sang or played the radio all the time.
He looked around the living room. Same paint. Same furniture. Same books and photos. Everything arranged the way it had been the day she died.
But nothing was the same. Never would be again.
And now Chelsea was trying to grow up. He was in over his head and couldn’t see how he would manage.
He snapped off the TV and reached in the game cabinet. Maybe a friendly game of Chelsea’s favorite, Monopoly, would help smooth things over. He could call Fred to cover for him and take an hour off work.
He carried the game box to Chelsea’s room and knocked.
“Go away.”
“Come on, Chels. Open up for a sec.”
She unlocked the door but didn’t open it.
He went inside and found her sprawled sideways, face down, on the pink-draped canopy bed—her little-girl bed. The covers were all bunched up near her head as if she’d dived across the surface, scrunching them up as she slid.
He would not apologize for protecting her. She might not understand now, but she would someday when she had kids of her own. “Come on. Let’s play a round of Monopoly.”
“No.”
“I promise not to win.”
She sniffed. “You can’t promise that.”
“I promise not to put houses on my property.” She paused and he thought he had her.
“No, I need to work on my summer reading project.”
The paper she’d written two weeks earlier? “I thought you finished it.”
“I’ll check it over again.”
She wanted to check over a project that wasn’t due for three more weeks? Boy, he’d sure moved down on her list of fun people. “Okay. I’ll let you study.”
“You’ve got to work anyway.”
Why did she always say that as if he were committing a crime by holding down a job that provided for her? “I do have a split shift today. Gotta go back from seven to ten. But I can get Fred to cover for a little while.”
“So I’ve got Kristy coming over to stay with me?” Her sneer was no reflection on the babysitter.
“I know you want to stay alone. But not at night. Not yet.”
She swiped the back of her hand across her eyes, then sat up. “Well, if you won’t let me do that yet, the least you can do is let me go back to the café.”
More than anything, he wanted to be a good dad. To keep her safe—physically and emotionally. Maybe this was one little thing he could bend on, though. “Can you promise me no boys?”
“I didn’t invite him today.” Her gaze darted away. “Well, not directly.”
“Is Parker your boyfriend?” He waited for her answer, holding his breath, wishing this day hadn’t come.
She shrugged. “No. We’re just talking.”
This boy-girl stuff was something Tina would have handled so much better. He sat down beside Chelsea on the bed and rubbed her back. “When a boy has his arm around you like that, then it looks like he considers you his girlfriend. Do you want to be his girlfriend?”
“Sort of. Maybe.” The sparkle in her eye, though, told him it was a definite yes.
“You need to make up your own mind and not be pushed into anything. Boys, well, they…sometimes they’re…pushy.” His face must’ve been as red as hers. He knew they needed a birds-and-bees talk at some point, but—
“I’ve had health class, Dad, if that’s what you’re trying to get around to.”
He vaguely remembered signing a permission form. “Okay. Good.” But he still might need Faith to talk to her.
“Everything is fine with Parker. I like him.”
Tina had always prayed for Chelsea. That God would be working in the life of the man she would marry someday. That God would protect Chelsea and prepare her to meet her future husband. But Gabe had failed to take over the duty, and now something—guilt—nudged him to at least consider praying for his child. But would God even listen to him anymore? It had been so long…” Chels, I don’t like this boyfriend-girlfriend stuff at your age. I want you to wait until you’re older.”
“How old?” Fire lit in her eyes as she challenged him.
Twenty-five? “We’ll figure it out later.”
He’d been spoiled. He realized that now. He had been Chelsea’s whole world the last few years. But now she wanted to broaden her horizons, to include others.
He wasn’t ready yet to let her grow up. And though he couldn’t stop her, he was determined not to let her rush it.
That evening, when they had a rare moment without a customer at the cafe, Faith sat at a table with Natalie—hard-working, honest, dependable and fun. The best employee she’d ever hired. She thanked God for her every day.
“Since I’ll be on vacation for two weeks, you’ll need to order supplies.” Faith handed Natalie a file folder. “Here’s the checklist I use. On Sunday evening after you close, you’ll need to do inventory. Then Monday morning, place the orders.”
Once they looked over the list together, Natalie seemed confident. “I’ve got it. No problem.” She closed the folder, handed it back to Faith, then slapped her hand flat on the table.
She was acting so strangely. “What—” Faith caught a glimpse of…a ring? Natalie had a sparkling diamond ring on her left ring finger. “What on earth?”
The young woman’s grin widened. Her eyes radiated joy as she trilled out a happy laugh. “I didn’t think you’d ever notice!”
“You and Vince got engaged?”
“Yep. Last night.” She wiggled her fingers out in front of her, the diamond flashing in the light.
Faith examined the ring closely. “It’s beautiful. Have you set a date?”
“Not yet. Now, back to earth. I’ve gotta go make the last batch of cookie dough.”
Faith resisted the twinge of envy. She’d never experienced the thrill of an engagement or a traditional wedding. Her marriage to Walt had been a quick, hushed trip to the courthouse accompanied by grim-faced parents. And she’d long ago given up on ever finding Mr. Right. Besides, Natalie had snatched up the best man around, even if he was ten years too young for Faith.
There’s also Gabe. The thought popped into Faith’s mind as she headed to her office to catch up on some paperwork. Yeah, he was a good man, too.
But everyone knew he would never be able to care for another woman like he had Tina. Though Faith had never met Gabe’s deceased wife, she’d heard over and over from friends at church what a paragon of womanhood she’d been. The perfect wife, perfect mother.
And perfect was not something Faith could ever do.
As she plunked into her chair, the phone rang. Gabe.
“I feel like I’m imposing on our friendship,” he said, “but I’m in a jam. Babysitter canceled last minute and Chelsea suggested I call you.”
She closed her eyes. She’d done her neighborly duty—had kept her promise to Chelsea. Had even agreed to help Gabe by having Chelsea come to the cafe that day. But babysit? “I’m here until closing tonight, Gabe. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. I’ll keep trying to find someone. Thanks, Faith.” He hung up.
She tried not to fret about letting him down, but she did feel a pinch of guilt. Monday nights weren’t very busy. And Natalie could probably handle it by herself. Faith could even come back after watching Chelsea and close up.
She smoothed her fingers over the desktop. Everything was in its place—as usual. But she straightened the pencils in the pencil holder anyway, trying to force them to stay evenly spaced around the container.
No. She would not get involved. Gabe could find someone trustworthy to take care of his child. Scads of women from church would love to watch Chelsea.
Gabe fought disappointment after he hung up the phone with Faith. He sensed there was more to her refusal than simple busyness. “Come on, Chels. How about you ride with me for a while? If I get any calls or don’t find someone to watch you before your bedtime, I’ll call Fred.”
“Faith couldn’t do it?”
“No. And everyone I tried is tied up at the moment.”
Her eyes lit up. “Cool. I’ll be ready in a sec.”
“You’re not going on any calls with me. So don’t get your hopes up.”
She hurried to her room, then reappeared about ten seconds later wearing pink flip-flops. “Ready!”
The child was entirely too excited about going to work with him. Other than the occasional speeder or fender bender, he didn’t have many calls on weeknights. Corinthia was a peaceful little town and he intended to keep it that way.
They climbed in the car and patrolled downtown. The recent renovation of Main Street had given it a much-needed face-lift. New paint, new awnings, pots overflowing with flowers, all made it fresh and inviting.
Most businesses had shut down around five. But a few remained open—the pizza place and Faith’s coffee shop among them. Even at seven o’clock, the summer sun and the muggy heat zapped everyone out on the streets. Life seemed to move like molasses in July and August.
Gabe waved to everyone he drove by. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Chelsea did the same.
It reminded him of when she was a toddler and used to sit perched in her car seat in the back of his cruiser and wave every time they passed someone—flapping her little fingers toward herself.
Those were the days. Back when he thought he and Tina would have a lifetime together. When he thought nothing bad could touch him again.
Chelsea pointed across the street. “Look, Coffee Time’s still open. I’d love some hot chocolate.”
“You’re kidding. It’s ninety-two degrees out.”
“Let’s stop and see Faith. Please?”
Why did his daughter have a sudden interest in their next-door neighbor and her coffee shop? “I guess. Nothing much going on around town right now.”
When they walked into the café, Faith hopped up from a table where she sat with Natalie. When she saw it was them, her smile wilted. She was obviously still mad at him.
He nodded their direction. “Ladies.”
Faith met them behind the counter. “Didn’t you find anyone to watch Chelsea?” She appeared distressed at the notion.
“No. But we’re having a nice time patrolling.”
Chelsea grinned up at him. “I’m a good deputy.”
Faith brushed some coffee grounds off the counter, then grabbed a towel to wipe up a spot he couldn’t see. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help. Natalie and I—”
Gabe’s radio squawked. “Excuse me a minute,” he said, then he headed outside to take the call.
“Whatya got, Wanda?”
“Possible prowler at the Emersons’,” the dispatcher said before rattling off the address. “Empty house. They’re on vacation.”
“Thanks. I’ll head there now.” He hustled back inside.
Before he could say anything, Faith held up her hand to silence him. “Go. I’ll take her home and watch her and will come back to close up after your shift.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” She gave him a crooked smile, then waved him away. “Now, go. Go protect your town.”
The warmth on her sweet face and in her aqua-colored eyes—and the fact that she was saving his hide at the moment—pierced through his protective gear and right to his heart. A part of his heart that had been cold and dead for a long time.
He locked away the feeling. No time to analyze it, anyway. He had a prowler to catch.
Chapter Three
At nine o’clock that night, Faith sent Chelsea to get ready for bed. But by nine-thirty, she decided to go check on her. She just couldn’t imagine the girl having to put herself to bed, even at age twelve.
Chelsea sat on her bed with wet hair, wearing her pj’s, with a book in her lap. The stuffed animals and dolls that had most likely graced her bed sometime in the past sat abandoned on a rocking chair in the corner. Somehow, the pink-dotted swiss bedspread and curtains didn’t seem to fit, not with the posters of the latest teen heartthrob on the walls.
“Wow, look at you. You’re all ready.”
“Just call me Miss Responsible. And be sure to tell Dad.” She gave Faith a silly wink, then laughed at herself.
“Believe me, I will.” She folded the bedspread back to the foot of the bed. “Do you need anything before I tuck you in?”
Chelsea shrugged and looked down at her book as she twirled hair around her finger. “I don’t think so.” Her hesitation was just long enough that Faith knew she actually did want something.
“What is it, Chelsea?”
“Well, it’s been a long time since anyone dried my hair. Dad’s too spastic—gets it all tangled. And I never ask my regular babysitter, because she’s usually studying or cleaning the house. And, well…” She continued to twirl strands of wet hair in a circle.
Faith gestured toward the hallway. “Come on. I’ve never gotten to do the girl-hair thing.”
Chelsea’s face lit up and she clapped her hands like a young child. She hopped off the bed and raced to the bathroom.
As Faith scrunched Chelsea’s curls and blew hot air over them, Chelsea chattered over the loud whir of the motor. “I called Valerie tonight. She invited me to a party at her house—a boy-girl party.”
Faith snapped off the hair dryer. “So is this a first, having boys at a party?”
She grinned and nodded. “I hope I can go. Gotta ask Dad.”
Faith could only imagine how Gabe would react to this. “Just be sure to find out all the details first. Like, making sure her parents will be home.”
“I don’t know everything for sure yet. Except that Parker will be there.” The last was said in a joyful, singsong voice.
Chelsea could count on the fact her dad wouldn’t be happy about that. Faith bit back a smile as she turned the dryer on. Once the hair was dry, she pulled a brush through the silky waves. “There. All done.”
Chelsea fluffed her curls. “Nice job. Thanks, Faith.” But her interest in her hair was short-lived. She turned away from the mirror and looked up at Faith. “Will you tell my dad about the party for me? It seems like anytime I try to talk to him about anything but studying or church, he goes into cop mode.”
Dodging further involvement as mediator, she said, “Like any dad, he loves you and wants you to be safe. To be happy.”
“Well, I won’t be happy unless he lightens up a little.” She walked back to her room and climbed into bed. “I really, really want to do this. And maybe I could even spend the night at Valerie’s afterward.”
Faith had loved slumber parties. And regular parties—especially the boy-girl variety. In high school, she’d loved to dress up and go to dances, to hang out with friends, to go out on dates.
But then she got pregnant. So she knew all about wanting to socialize yet being unable.
Still, Gabe would understandably be concerned. She sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll mention it to him. But be prepared for a no.”
“I’m used to hearing no. We’ll just have to change his mind.” She hugged Faith. “Thank you. I’m so glad you came tonight.”
Before Faith realized what she was doing, she kissed the top of Chelsea’s head. A motherly gesture she hadn’t had the opportunity to do for so long. The sweetness of it pierced her, making her ache in regret for mistakes she’d made. For all she’d lost.
Because of her teen pregnancy and the divorce, she’d tried to protect Ben from making mistakes, which had ultimately driven him away from her. And now it seemed their relationship hung by a thread.
She stood and pulled the covers over Chelsea. “Sleep tight. Don’t forget your prayers.”
Once Chelsea was tucked in, Faith went to clean the kitchen. But Chelsea and Gabe had done an excellent job already. She couldn’t even find a trace of what they’d eaten for dinner. So she busied herself cleaning the toaster.
About the time she finished brushing crumbs out of the little trapdoor and buffing the chrome exterior to a perfect shine, the back door opened, and Gabe walked in. “Hi. She in bed?”
Her heart stuttered. Having him nearby made the room feel two sizes smaller. “Yes. Just a little while ago.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate you stepping in.”
His grateful smile made her want to turn away, to find something to keep her busy rather than have to look into his penetrating dark eyes. But with the spotless kitchen, she didn’t have any option other than facing him head-on—and dealing with this sudden nervousness around him. “So…did you catch your crook?”
“No. I imagine my car ran him off.”
Unable to maintain eye contact, she refolded a dish towel and laid it beside the sink. “I have to brag on your daughter. She had showered and was in bed reading when I went back to check on her at bedtime.”
He leaned against the kitchen counter. Though he should be proud, he appeared troubled. “She’s growing up too fast.”
“I know it may feel too fast to you, but I think she’s pretty much on target. Other kids her age seem to be facing the same issues.”
“Seems all kids grow up too quickly these days.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I think going to the café this afternoon was good for her.”
“Until you showed up,” she teased. Then she grinned at him to ease the jab.
“Yeah, well, she and I had a little talk. If you’ll let her drop by again tomorrow, I’ll try to keep my nose out of it.”
Surely Faith could handle that. It wasn’t as if she were committing to raising the girl. And it would be a nice step of independence for Chelsea. “Sure. She’s welcome to come back.” She stood straighter and forced her attention away from his handsome face. “And while you’re feeling generous, we need to talk.”
He pulled out the chair and indicated for her to have a seat. “What’s up?”
As they sat across from each other at the table, she chose to use an oh, this is so cute approach and forced out a laugh. “Well, get ready, Chief Dad. There’s more to come.”
He leaned on his forearms, all seriousness, not falling for her lighthearted approach. “Suppose you fill me in.” His nearly black eyes bore into hers, and she found it difficult to meet his gaze.
“Chelsea has been invited to a party. Her first girl-boy party.” She held her breath. Waiting.
He paused for a heartbeat. “No way is she doing that.” He frowned for another few seconds, then he relaxed back in his chair. “She’s been like a roller coaster all summer. Emotions all over the place. Maybe this liking-boys phase will pass.”
“Well, I think she may be hitting the time when she’ll start liking them more often than not. Especially when it involves Parker Pruitt.”
The frown reformed. “I suppose she does like him. And he’ll be at this party?”
Faith wasn’t so sure this conversation was going to help Chelsea at all. “She thinks so.”
“Chels is not going to any parties.”
Faith recognized that determined look on his face. She was fairly certain she’d worn it herself at some point with Ben. “I totally understand. I tried the same with Ben, but it backfired.”
“How can doing what needs to be done—the right thing—backfire?”
She didn’t know how she could explain without revealing how she’d failed with her son. “I told you, I think being overprotective can be a mistake. So please don’t nix the idea without talking to Valerie’s parents first. The girl’s mother seems very responsible.”
He shook his head as he got up from the table, pretty much dismissing her and her ideas.
She followed suit, grabbed her purse off the counter, then opened the door. “I guess I need to get back to the café to finish up.”
“Thanks for helping out tonight.”
She hadn’t come willingly, had done so out of a sense of guilt. But if she were honest, she would acknowledge she’d actually enjoyed herself. “No problem.”
He nodded his goodbye. “She’ll change her mind about the party, you know. She’s not entirely ready to be a teenager. I see glimpses of my little girl all the time.”
“Yeah. Maybe so.” Faith hated to rain on his parade. But she suspected this time he was in for a surprise.
Late the next morning, Faith left the café and made a quick run to the bank. When she returned through the back door, the dark, rich aroma of coffee greeted her. She didn’t think she would ever get tired of the smell, and in some ways, the café felt more like home than her house did. Maybe because the little bit of a social life she enjoyed revolved around work.
And also around church. Although, she often still felt like an outsider. Unless you were born and raised in Corinthia, you weren’t truly part of that inner circle that got invited over for birthday parties or Sunday dinner or spur-of-the-moment get-togethers.
She called into the dining room to let Natalie know she had returned. While she washed her hands and put on her apron, she heard Miss Ann’s distinctive voice—rather high-pitched and raspy. And very, very Southern.
Miss Ann was a church icon. Whenever townspeople had a problem, they went straight to her for prayer and guidance. And though the woman had lost a lot in her lifetime, she always radiated joy. Always had a kind word. Always wore a smile.
Faith hurried out from the kitchen with an important request in mind. “Hey, Miss Ann.”
“I was just praying for you, Faith. Always do whenever I’m near the café.”
She patted Ann’s shoulder. “And I’m honored that’s just about daily.”
Ann smiled with rheumy blue eyes the color of an October sky as she held up her mug of hot chocolate—with skim milk and marshmallows—in a mock toast. “Couldn’t make it without my daily dose of chocolate.”
“Thank you for the prayers. And I have a request for you.” Faith pulled out a chair and joined Ann at the small, square table she came to each morning to read her Bible. The carnations in the vase looked a bit ragged, so Faith picked off a browning leaf, straightened them and made a mental note to replace them a day early.
“What is it, dear?”
It wasn’t easy to open up and share her worries. But she needed the prayer support, so she took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I’ve sort of been thrown into Gabe Reynolds’s life the last day or so. I’m trying to help him out a bit with Chelsea.”
A grin spread across Ann’s face. “You don’t say.”
“I feel torn. I’d like to help, but I’m so busy here, getting ready for Ben’s visit, training Natalie to take over during my vacation. And dealing with a middle schooler…” She hadn’t told Ann any more than she’d told anyone else in town, but she hoped the woman would understand her fear. “Please be praying that it goes well all around.”
“So is he having trouble with Chelsea?”
“Sort of.” She wasn’t sure how much to share about his situation. But Ann seemed to be discreet and trustworthy. “Chelsea’s growing up. And he’s resisting it.”
Ann shut her eyes as she grabbed Faith’s hand and held tight with a surprisingly strong grip. She said a short but powerful prayer for Chelsea and Gabe, then she squeezed and let go.
“Thanks, Ann. I guess I better go restock for the afternoon crowd and let you get back to the Scriptures.”
As Faith added cookies and muffins to the display case, brought out fresh bags of coffee and refilled the napkin holders, the breakfast crowd dwindled. All except for Ann, who continued to read.
All morning long, every time the door opened, Faith jumped to attention, wondering if it might be Gabe, bringing Chelsea.
At around eleven, they finally walked in. To Faith’s dismay, at the sight of Gabe her heart raced and her face burned, scalding her from the inside out. She turned her back to try to gather her wits as she called out, “Welcome. You want your regular, Chief Reynolds?”
“Sure. And a hot chocolate for Chelsea, please.” His deep, resonant voice filled the café and seemed to close the distance between them.
“Whipped cream, Chelsea?”
“Yes, please. Oh, hi, Miss Ann!” Chelsea dashed across the dining room and joined Ann at her table.
“Mornin’, Miss Ann,” Gabe called. He walked toward Faith. As she poured him a cup of coffee and added one packet of sugar, he leaned his thick muscular forearms on the counter and watched her, his intense coffee-colored eyes following her every move.
Why did he always do that? And why did it seem to matter to her more today than it had before?
Another blush wormed its way along her neck and up to her cheeks. Steaming hot coffee didn’t help matters any. “Here you go.” Once she handed over the cup, she reached under the glass cake stand with a pair of tongs and grabbed several doughnut holes.
He always accepted a bag full even though he complained it would ruin his appetite.
He pulled out his wallet.
“You are not going to pay me. Don’t try again.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it. You mowed my grass last week before I could get to it. This is the least I can do.”
“Just being neighborly. And I still say you’re trying to get me addicted to your homemade doughnuts so my car out front will be like an endorsement.”
She bit back a smile. “Guilty.”
His laugh rang out across the café. “Gotta run. I’ll be back for Chelsea in a couple of hours, if that’ll work.”
“Let her stay as long as she likes. If her friends show up this afternoon she’ll want to hang out. We’ll either call you when she’s ready to go, or I’ll run her home.”
“Thanks, Faith.” He told his daughter and Miss Ann goodbye, then saluted Faith with the bag of doughnut holes as he left.
Once her heart rate returned to normal and her cheeks quit flaming, she carried Chelsea’s hot chocolate over and joined Chelsea and Ann.
Ann had closed her Bible and was listening intently.
The girl jumped up and down in her seat when she saw Faith. “Oh, I’ve been dying to ask. Did you talk to Dad last night?”
“Yes. And I’m afraid he’s not going to let you go to the party.”
Chelsea sank back in her chair, her face forlorn. “Oh, man. If you can’t talk him into it, I know I can’t. He’s so stubborn. And miserable. I just wish he had something to do besides worry about me.”
Ann flipped her notebook open. “I’ll add your dad to my prayer list, too.”
“Thanks. Pray that he’ll finally be happy. It’s hard to see him when he gets down, especially at home.”
The three of them sat at the table digesting her statement. Faith found herself praying for happiness for Gabe and his daughter. For healing from the grief of loss of such a wonderful wife and mother.
Chelsea sucked in a breath. “You know, I have something else for you to pray about.” She had a little gleam in her eye. “Ever since Sunday night, I’ve been thinking Dad needs something to occupy his time. So—” she signaled for the two of them to lean in closer “—I want y’all to find a bunch of people to be praying for him…to find a girlfriend.”
Gabe would be mortified. “Not on the church-wide prayer chain, Chelsea,” Faith said.
Ann chuckled. “You sure are a sneaky one, child.”
“His whole life is this town and me—specifically keeping me his overly safe little girl. I want him to have some fun.”
Faith wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Surely it was a good plan. He did need some outside interests. But a girlfriend? On the prayer chain?
She should be all for this. So why did the idea grate against her nerves?
“What do you think, Faith?” Chelsea asked.
“You know your dad won’t go along with this. When would he have time to go out?”
“That’s the point. He needs to make time. To be forced to make time.” She grinned at the perfection of her plan.
“How about I add it to my personal prayer list and ask a couple of friends to join in praying?” Ann said as she picked up her cane and slowly got up. “This’ll be fun.”
Faith wasn’t so enthused. All she could think about as she waved goodbye to Ann was that Gabe would be angry. And she would be miserable.
But why would watching Gabe go out and have fun make her miserable? Did she feel more than a neighborly connection? More than friendship?
No. That was impossible.
“I need your help,” Chelsea said, drawing her away from her thoughts.
Faith frowned. “What?”
“We’re going to find him a nice woman. Fix him up.”
“We are?”
“Yep. And I have an idea for the first one. You!”
“Me?” she asked, entirely too loudly.
“You two have a lot in common—your yards…coffee…church.”
“But he doesn’t even go to church.” Okay, so that was a low blow. The poor man found it difficult to attend without the love of his life. “Besides, we’re just friends.”
Chelsea shrugged. “Oh. Okay. Well, what about Hannah, from church? We just need to figure out how to get her to ask him out.”
Faith’s head nearly spun. She hadn’t thought of Hannah. But she was perfect for Gabe—and perfect for Chelsea. Hannah was a widowed single mom, a really good mom, always active in her children’s lives. A model Christian woman. Gorgeous. “She would be a good choice.”
“You know her, don’t you?”
“She works at the bank, and I’ve catered some events for them.”
“Perfect! Call her. Tell her to ask Dad out.” Chelsea’s grin nearly lit the room.
Surely Gabe was going to kill her for this. Then again, he might end up blissfully in love and would thank her. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Oh, thank you, Faith! Dad will be so much happier. And I’ll be able to live my own life without him worrying about every breath I take.”
Faith’s stomach seized into a knot. And she could now worry over why she was so resistant to playing matchmaker for her neighbor.
That evening as Gabe took a stroll down Main Street, checking to make sure business owners had closed up tight, he passed two ladies he knew from church walking down the street toward the high school—probably headed for the walking track.
“Evenin’, ladies.”
“Evenin’, Chief,” Kendra said, then giggled as if she’d said the funniest thing on earth.
“Got a hot date tonight?” Jeannie asked.
Jeannie wasn’t usually someone who teased like that. “Uh…no, ma’am.”
“That’s okay. Give it some time.”
The two laughed as they walked on past.
Strange.
He finished his rounds and headed home. When he walked in the kitchen, Chelsea was setting the table for dinner. Faith was washing pots and pans. Seeing her with her hands in the dish bubbles at his sink brought him up short as a jolt of longing shot through him. A good, I-like-this-scenario jolt.
For a split second, his life felt normal. A brief respite in a rocky five years.
He shook it off and focused on his daughter. The huge grin Chelsea gave him made him want to look over his shoulder to see if the comical Kendra and Jeannie were outside making faces.
“What’s up?” he asked them.
“We started dinner,” Faith said with her back to him, wiping a dish towel over the outside of a frying pan.
“You have a phone message. I left it on your desk,” Chelsea said, and the grin somehow managed to broaden.
He narrowed his eyes. “You sure are cheerful.”
“Oh, I’m just excited about the party this Friday.”
“Party?”
“Daaaad. You know this info. Faith said she told you.”
“Oh, that party. Well, you aren’t going to any parties with boys.”
“I think you’ll change your mind.” She gave him the happiest, most hopeful grin and batted huge, puppy-dog eyes. Must be some new manipulative tool she’d picked up.
“Chels—”
“Pleeeease…You have to let me. I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise. I just have to go or I’ll be a total outcast.”
Talk about exaggeration. “You’re impossible.” He glanced at Faith, who seemed awfully busy drying the already-dry skillet. “Faith, you sure are giving that pan a work over.”
“What? Oh.” She looked a million miles away. She pulled her gaze away and placed the skillet in the cabinet. “Time to go home.”
He’d thought maybe she felt guilty about encouraging Chelsea over the party. But now he realized she hadn’t even been listening to them. She seemed distracted.
After Faith told Chelsea good-night, she headed out the back door to make the short walk next door.
He followed her to the porch and leaned against the railing. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She finally looked directly at him. The glow from the setting sun made her eyes look bluer than usual. Such a pretty color.
She puffed out air that blew her bangs off her face. Then she messed with her ponytail. “I’m just out of sorts. Don’t know why.”
“I guess Chelsea and I have put an extra burden on you the last few days. I’m sorry.”
Her brows drew downward. “No, it’s not that at all.”
“Then tell me.” He motioned for her to sit on the steps beside him.
She started to join him, but then she popped back up. “No, really. It’s nothing. I’ve got to go. And you need to go return Hannah’s call.” She gave him a crooked smile, then walked away. “Good night.”
Hannah? Now why would she be calling?
Must be something to do with security at the bank.
He walked inside to his desk, picked up the sticky note with Chelsea’s loopy handwriting, then dialed the phone number she’d carefully written with a huge smiley face beside it.
“Hi, Hannah. Chelsea said you called.”
“Oh, hi, Gabe. Thanks for calling back. I, uh…well, this is awkward…but I was…uh…wondering, well…”
“Is something wrong?”
“Would you like to go to dinner this Saturday night?”
Dinner? “Is there something going on at the bank?” He hadn’t heard of anything. But he couldn’t keep up with every business in town.
A high, bubbly laugh burst out of her. “Oh, I’ve messed up this whole thing.” She laughed again. “I’m trying to ask you out.”
Ask him out? “For a bank business dinner?”
“For a date!” she practically hollered, as if trying to get it through his thick skull. He felt thick-skulled at the moment. “A date. You’re asking me to dinner as a date? Not something bank-sponsored?”
She chuckled. “I never once mentioned work or the bank. You just assumed.”
Surely he’d been tossed into some parallel universe. He didn’t go out on dates. And women never asked him out. What was going on?
Chelsea’s big grin, her smiley-faced sticky note, Faith’s awkwardness…
“Hannah, did someone put you up to this?”
“No. It may have been suggested, but I—”
“My daughter.” He would ground her for a month. For a year. And she could forget ever having a cell phone. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I hate that she put you in this position.”
“Oh, don’t apologize. It seems like a good idea. I just never thought you would consider it.”
“You’re right. I’m nowhere near ready to date. I’m sorry Chelsea put us in this awkward position.”
“Maybe it is time, Gabe,” she said softly. “For both of us.”
Faith’s face flashed into his mind, almost as if she’d spoken the words. He shook his head to clear the thought. “I appreciate the offer, Hannah. Maybe another time.”
As soon as they hung up, he stomped to Chelsea’s room and banged on the door, making the hand-painted name plate bounce and rattle.
“Come in,” she said as sweet as sugar.
He marched inside and found her sitting on her bed reading a teen celebrity magazine. “Don’t try to get me dates.”
“Who, me?” Her face radiated pure innocence from the frilly pink pillow shams.
It was enough to defuse his anger. But embarrassment still made the skin on his face feel a size too small. “Don’t be playing matchmaker.”
Chelsea scuttled over to the edge of the bed and looked up at him with an innocent expression. Her hair was shiny and her cheeks rosy. “Hannah sure is pretty. And not dating anyone.”
“Doesn’t matter. Now, behave. Dinner’s in ten minutes.”
She reached out with her small, soft hand and touched his arm. “Just think about it. You never know what God may have planned for you.”
Chelsea’s faith—and her ability to talk about it openly—always threw him off balance. But God? What did God have to do with this lark?
He left Chelsea to her magazine and strode to the phone in the kitchen. He hesitated for a second, hand on the receiver, but knew he had to act now. When Faith answered, he said, “You were in on this, too, weren’t you?”
“On what?” she asked, almost as innocently as his daughter. “Oh. Hannah’s call. Sorry about that.”
“I’m not ready for this. And I can’t replace Tina, anyway.”
Silence. But then Faith sighed. “I know.”
For some reason, white-hot anger smoldered beneath the frustration. How could anyone dare to try to fix him up with a woman? “Tina was everything to me. The best wife, best mother. Anyone else would pale in comparison.”
Faith was silent. But he could hear her breathing, so he knew she was still there.
“Oh, I’m sure,” she finally said with an edge of irritation, almost as if he’d hurt her feelings.
“So please discourage Chels from fixing me up, okay?”
“I’ll certainly try. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hung up without saying goodbye.
Could he have really hurt her feelings? Had she been as excited to fix him up as Chelsea had been?
Well, it didn’t matter. She’d get over it. Besides, there were more important things to deal with than his love life. He had a possible prowler roaming the streets. And it looked as if Chelsea was going to keep badgering him about the party, forcing him to play the mean dad.
He couldn’t think about women when he had a town and a daughter to protect.
Chapter Four
Gabe was more than ready to go to work the next morning after listening to Chelsea whine from the moment she woke about having to spend the day with Kristy, her babysitter. Apparently, since beginning summer school, Kristy spent more time studying than entertaining Chelsea.
Now Chelsea had decided Faith was more fun. Well, maybe so, but he couldn’t keep imposing on his neighbor.
So he’d settled on giving Kristy money to take Chelsea to Faith’s café that day. He felt sure Kristy would do what he asked, but he began to wonder if he’d done the right thing by hiring her that summer, knowing she was enrolled in college courses.
Poor Chels. No wonder she was going stir-crazy.
Gabe tried not to stress about it as he headed to the station. But finding the pastor waiting in his office didn’t help. “What can I do for you, Phil?” He gestured for the man to be seated and went around to sit behind his desk.
Phil, who always seemed to be in motion with more on his to-do list than he could possibly fit in a day, sank into the chair and looked at Gabe with tired eyes. “Gabe, I need your help. The kids of the church need your help.”
Somehow Gabe didn’t like the sound of that. “You know I’m grateful to you and the church for your support. But I don’t see how I can help.”
“Audra and Gary are moving, and I need new youth counselors. It would give you extra time with Chelsea, too.”
He sensed there was more to it than a need for counselors. “So what’s the bottom line?”
“I plan to find several workers to share the load. If you could just help me with Sunday-night programs, I’d be grateful.”
“And that’s it?”
Phil’s expression grew serious. “Actually, no. You used to work your schedule so you had Sunday mornings off. I’ve noticed you work almost every Sunday nowadays. I hope for Chelsea’s sake you’ll try to go back to the way it was before Tina died.”
Of all the topics Gabe had hoped to avoid. His collar suddenly felt too tight. He stretched his burning neck but didn’t get any relief. “Well, going to church was difficult after she died.”
“I know. It always is in the aftermath. But I think it’s time now. I know Tina would want you to bring her daughter to church.”
It was a punch in the gut. And he wanted to defend himself, saying he’d been making sure Chelsea attended. But he knew that wasn’t the same. Hadn’t he felt guilty every time he dropped her off? Lord, are You working here—hitting me with this conviction?
Saying the prayer felt like pushing open a rusty, unused door. But it was good. And a bit of a relief.
A huge sigh escaped.
Phil laughed. “Hard to refuse, huh?”
“You know it is.”
“Then do it. Take Sundays off. Attend worship. Work with the youth. I promise the kids will bless you so it won’t feel like a chore.” He leaned forward and held Gabe’s gaze. “You’ll be a fantastic role model. Those two Pruitt boys who ride with Chelsea are from a bad home situation. They need a good man to look up to.”
Parker, who’d had his arm around Chelsea yet acted polite.
“Nice, Phil. Pull the role-model card, why don’t you?”
He shrugged. “Hey, it’s just the truth.”
And the truth will get you every time. “Okay. I’ll try to schedule time off. At least on Sunday evenings for the kids.”
Phil stood and slapped Gabe on the back. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you. And hey, if you can work it out, try to come to the youth fundraising dinner next week.”
After writing down the details, Gabe said he’d try, then he walked Phil outside.
“I’m sorry if I’m pushing or butting in where I’m not wanted,” Phil said. “But I’ve felt God leading me to talk with you about this.”
“I appreciate your honesty. I’ll consider what you’ve said.”
He smiled. “Thanks, Gabe. I know you’re taking one day at a time. You and Chelsea have come a long way.”
“Yeah, we’re doing great.” If you didn’t count how unhappy Chels was with him over the babysitter and the boy-girl party and his forbidding her to wear makeup. And if you didn’t count the fact that she was apparently trying to fix him up with a date, as if he couldn’t find one for himself. As if he would even want to date.
Tina, are you disappointed in how I’m handling everything? You were such a great mom to Chelsea that I don’t even know where to start.
“Finally! A moment of peace.” Faith waved Natalie over to a large table by the café’s front window. The hustle and bustle out on the street always drew her to this spot. “I’ve pulled everything you’ll need for dealing with the banking. Deposit slips. The money bag. And I’ve made you a cheat sheet so you’ll remember what cash you’ll leave in the drawer each night.”
“Thanks, Faith. Will you show me—”
The front door chimed, indicating a customer had entered. Faith hadn’t even seen a car out front. “I guess we’ll finish this later.”
“Hi,” Chelsea called. “This is Kristy. My sitter.”
Faith greeted Kristy, a serious blonde who looked as if she didn’t have much fun in life. The young woman waved as she headed to a table in the back and plunked an overstuffed backpack on a chair. From the sound of the bag landing, it must’ve weighed a ton.
Faith raised her brows at Chelsea.
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