Читать книгу Home to Safe Harbor - Kate Welsh - Страница 12

After delivering the Harkins children to their respective classrooms, Justine walked back to the table in the church hall where she signed up the new arrivals to After-School Days. She couldn’t believe the positive response to the program. In just three weeks it had made a positive change in the community. She’d known there were several members of the Women’s League and First Peninsula Church who were worried about the rising cost of after-school care, or about leaving their older children home alone or watching their younger siblings during those last hours of the workday. She’d known, but still she hadn’t expected to have this many of Safe Harbor’s children signed up.

A former latchkey kid herself, she knew firsthand about the loneliness of those late-afternoon hours and the pressure from peers. A house without parents was often the “party house,” whether the adolescent in residence wanted it to be or not.

“This is just plain dumb, Daddy,” Leslie Trent complained as the Trent clan tramped down the steps to the church hall. “You said I’m taking good care of Cindy and Gina. I’m really insulted by this.”

“So you’ve said. I told you, sweetheart, I think you take excellent care of them. I’m just worried that you shouldn’t have to. I’ve put too much on your shoulders lately.”

“But I like taking care of them.”

“Look, humor your old dad. This is the time of your life you should be enjoying yourself. Give it a couple weeks. Okay, princess?”

“Are these new participants?” Justine said, forcing herself to sound thrilled. But inside, her stomach did a quick flip, then a slow roll. She was going to have a living, breathing reminder of Matthew Trent every day—three of them, in fact. He already invaded her dreams. Broke her concentration. And worse, battered at the walls surrounding her heart with his obvious devotion to his little girls. Now she was doomed to witness the love he showed them, every day except Saturday.

Why are You doing this to me, Lord?

“I’m sure you remember Gina. She’s in all-day kindergarten,” Matt said as he put a hand lovingly on Gina’s head, then moved the caress to his nexteldest child. “This is Cindy. She’s in fourth grade. And last but first in the family is Leslie, who doesn’t think she needs to be here.”

Justine filled in the girls’ sign-up sheets. “Well,” she said, and took a deep calming breath, which unfortunately drew in the scent of Matt’s aftershave, “I guess we’ll have to do our best to change your mind, Leslie. Welcome to After-School Days, all three of you. Several of our senior citizens have volunteered to help the older kids with homework. We also got a donation of several computers, and I had high-speed Internet hooked up today so you can do research for school projects. We also have a cooperative agreement with the library. Miss Neal will be taking a group over there almost every day, so that’s a possibility, too. You just have to sign up for either when you need it. Everyone will take turns.”

She turned to look at the still-mutinous Leslie. “If you really like working with younger children, Leslie, several of the older high school girls have volunteered to help the younger children with homework and to assist in those rooms with general mayhem-control. I’m sure your help would be greatly appreciated.”

That, at least, got a small smile from the girl. Feeling like a comedian trying to win over a tough crowd, Justine went on. “And we got a wonderful surprise today. Monica Tobridge came by and asked if I’d like her to run a cheerleading class even though she isn’t a church member. The sign-up sheet is over on the bulletin board.”

“Her brother’s a creep,” Leslie muttered.

“Yeah. He sometimes yells mean stuff at us,” Cindy put in. Leslie poked her.

“I guess it’s good to know it isn’t just an adult sentiment,” Justine said quickly.

Matt’s gaze was blazing. Young Mr. Tobridge had singled out the wrong man’s children to pick on. It looked as if Alan would have another lesson taught him in the next few weeks.

“Hopefully he’ll improve soon, but don’t judge Monica by Alan,” she told the children. “Now, your rooms will be the same as your regular Sunday school rooms. Why don’t we get you settled.”

“Les, will you take the girls on up. I’d like a word with Reverend Clemens,” Matt said.

Justine handed each girl one of the stick-on name tags she’d written up as they talked. “Here you go, girls, you’ll need to wear these just till your aide gets to know you.”

“Fine, but I still say this is a dumb idea,” Leslie groused as she shepherded the girls up the side steps toward the classroom wing.

“What can I do for you, Chief Trent?” she asked, trying once again for a businesslike tone.

Matt sighed as she almost knew he would. “You can stop retreating to square one each time we meet. Look, this is a new town for me and I don’t know many people on a personal level. Do you have a reason not to want me for a friend?”

Ashamed instantly, she forced a little smile. “What can I do for you, Matt?” she corrected herself. “I’m sorry. I’m still—” Justine broke off when the radio Matt carried on his hip squawked to life. There was a huge accident out on Route 7, the state highway nearest Safe Harbor. Some of the victims were pinned in their cars.

“I’ve got to go. I know it’s an imposition, but if I can’t get back in time, could you make sure the girls get home okay? Les knows to make our neighbors, the Hunters, aware that they’re alone. I went to college with both of them, and I trust them with the kids. Ray and Julie were the ones who put me on to the opening for Chief of Police here in Safe Harbor. This has never happened before, but I set it up with them in case of emergencies like this. Knowing the house next door to theirs was up for sale made the move here all the more attractive.”

Justine nodded, relieved that she didn’t have to answer his question, yet embarrassed by the cause. “I’ll see the children get home. Don’t worry. Just go. The accident sounds dreadful.”

After he left, Justine floated from age group to age group, checking on how the senior citizens who’d volunteered were getting along with the children. Everything seemed to be going fine so she returned to her makeshift desk to find Leslie just leaving the kitchen area.

“Oh, hi, Reverend Clemens,” the girl said, her hands fluttering nervously. “I was just…uh…getting a drink. Helping the little kids is kind of fun. Well, see ya.”

Justine frowned as she watched Leslie skip up the steps on her way back to the classroom wing. There were water fountains in the halls. Why hadn’t Leslie used one of them? She walked into the kitchen and looked around. There was a paper lunch bag in a trash can—a can Justine had emptied after the women’s altar guild left earlier in the day.

She dismissed the whole incident until the next day. As she checked the building before locking up, Justine got an impulse to check the trash: once again, there was a lunch bag in the can. It contained a sandwich, an apple and some carrot sticks. She wished she’d checked the one the day before because this time she found the initials LT on the bottom. Leslie Trent? Why would the girl throw out her lunch?

The same thing happened for the next two days, and Justine’s curiosity turned to concern. Matt’s daughter was secretly disposing of her lunches.

Deeply troubled, Justine thought back to the first time she’d seen the girl during the summer. There was no denying that Matt’s eldest child was increasingly fragile looking. Justine had thought the girl was just getting taller and losing baby fat, but now she was afraid it was more. Something was wrong, and these lunch bags were a clue.

It took another day to put her finger on what. When Justine pulled yet another bag from the trash on Friday, she remembered an article she’d read in a ministry periodical on eating disorders.

How was she going to tell Matt there was a chance his daughter was suffering from anorexia?

It was Friday, and Matt was looking forward to a whole weekend off. He’d managed to plow through a mountain of backed-up paperwork and was out of work an hour earlier than usual. It was a beautiful afternoon. All day he thought about taking the girls for a short hike up at Safe Harbor Park, and there was still enough light left to do so. Russ Mitchard said the park had the best wilderness trails on the peninsula.

Matt had just cleared the front door of the church building when he ran into Justine. Literally. He managed to catch her before she fell. Her scent surrounded him and she felt wonderful in his arms as she stared up at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher.

“I’m…uh…I’m so sorry,” she said, stepping back, giving him no choice but to let her go.

“Not your fault I came barreling in here and knocked you for a loop. I was in a hurry to pick up the girls. I thought we’d go for a hike before the light fails.”

“Oh. But I really need to talk to you.”

The disappointment in Justine’s face gave him a shot of pleasure. “So come with us.” The words had just popped out of his mouth. Too late, he noticed her outfit. She wasn’t really dressed for a hike. She had on a long top and slacks made of a velvety soft material that was pretty but casual.

“I…no, you don’t understand. I need to talk about Leslie.”

Confusion assailed him along with a sense of disappointment that she only wanted to talk to him about his daughter. “Leslie? Is she not settling in? She said this was working out okay.”

“As far as I know it is. She’s been getting on just fine. It isn’t that she’s any trouble.” Justine paused. “It’s something else. Have you noticed her losing weight lately? A lot of weight?”

Matt frowned. What was she getting at? “Les is getting taller, that’s all. Her clothes still fit, so she couldn’t have lost weight. You wouldn’t know this because you don’t have kids, but every once in a while they shoot up and look thinner. I guess they don’t grow everything at once. At her age, I grew six inches in one summer and didn’t gain an ounce. I could hardly keep my pants up.”

Justine didn’t crack a smile. He watched as she took a deep breath. “Matt, I’ve found her lunch in the trash four days in a row. Earlier today when I asked her why, she said she doesn’t like what you pack but doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Leslie normally packed all of the lunches, but he wasn’t about to tell Justine that. She seemed to be implying he wasn’t taking good care of his kids. Or that they were afraid to speak their minds.

Brother. He was batting a thousand lately. First Mary and Seth, two people he’d thought of as parents since marrying their daughter, had begun doubting his ability to raise the girls without their mother and criticizing his every decision. And now the first person he’d been attracted to since Diane’s death was calling him an incompetent parent.

“Leslie can say anything to me she wants,” he growled. “And she knows it. If she’d said she wanted something else for lunch, I’d have seen she had it.”

“I have no doubt of that. I don’t think she wants something else for lunch. In fact, Gina told me it’s Leslie who makes the lunches.”

“I don’t appreciate your questioning my children, Reverend.”

Justine stiffened. It was as if he saw a barrier form around her.

“I didn’t question Gina, Chief Trent. She offered the information in one of her sweet, running advertisements for a mother. I came to you with a concern for your child. Not to inspire an attack on my motives. I’m terribly afraid Leslie may have an eating disorder.”

Matt shook his head. There was nothing wrong with his Leslie. She was losing her baby fat. And she’d gotten taller. Hadn’t he said that already?

Justine stepped forward and put her hand on his forearm. He could see her concern for Leslie in her eyes and hear it in her voice.

“I’m not criticizing. A blind man could see how much you love those girls. But you can’t afford to be blind to their faults and problems. Matt, please don’t discount what I’m saying. Watch her. Carefully. If I’m right, and I pray I’m not, this can be very dangerous. Anorexia is insidious and it’s a silent killer.”

“Leslie’s fine,” he insisted.

Before Justine could once again rebut his assertion, the clamor of little feet sounded down the hall from the classroom wing.

Minutes later he had both the little ones with him and watched Leslie strolling along the hall and down the steps. All at once she looked so alone to him. Maybe watching her closely wouldn’t be such a bad idea. After all, the girls were in this program because he’d been worried about Les.

As they started to put dinner together, Matt made it a point to notice if Leslie really did pick at what they were making for dinner. He felt guilty and almost sneaky. As if he were spying on her.

“Don’t you like dinner, Les?” he felt compelled to ask when he noticed how little of her meal she was actually eating. They all sat around the big maple table Diane had so lovingly restored. As far as Diane had been concerned, family meals were the center of the universe.

“Dinner’s fine, Daddy. But ham is a little fattening. I just don’t want to be fat. That’s all.”

That was the first he’d heard that she was worried about her weight. Maybe there was something here he needed to address. And maybe she had lost a little weight along with the inches she’d gained. On the walk, he had noticed Les just sort of floated along with a growing grace that made his heart ache and made him aware that his little girl was headed inexorably toward womanhood.

“Are you on a diet, princess?” he asked casually.

She shrugged. “Not really. I just like my clothes to fit loose. You know. Grandma’s no lightweight, either. When I get older, if I already eat right, I won’t have to worry that I’ll look like her. And I can look like the models in Pizzazz and Mystique.”

Matt sighed. America—a plastic surgeon’s paradise! Where men were supposed to be over-muscled and women were starting to look the same except for their out-of-proportion breasts.

“You know all those women don’t really look like that naturally, don’t you? Some have surgery and most of their photos are retouched.”

That got Leslie’s attention. Her head snapped up. “You think so?”

“Oh. Yeah. I saw it on a TV show about special effects. A graphic artist trims thighs, arms, hips, whatever the photographer wants slimmed down with the computer. It’s all smoke and mirrors. Your mother never dieted. She just ate healthy and let the good Lord take care of how she looked. And she looked wonderful. You will, too.”

Leslie tilted her head and frowned, clearly thinking about what he’d said. “You thought Mom was pretty?”

He could think of Diane now and remember her before the cancer. He smiled and knew it had a wistful quality. But that was okay. He’d never hidden his grief from the kids. They knew he missed their mom as much as they did. “She was perfect. Didn’t you think so?”

Her eyes shone and she nodded. “She was. Wasn’t she? Thanks, Daddy,” she told him with a sweet broad smile.

Matt gave a sigh of relief. Leslie was going to be fine. Justine had just panicked. Now all he had to do was apologize to the pretty minister for putting her in the crosshairs of his insecurities over single parenthood. He couldn’t believe how he’d spoken to her. And all because she cared about his daughter.