Читать книгу Home to Safe Harbor - Kate Welsh - Страница 13

Justine heard footsteps in the hall coming toward her office. She looked up from the lesson she’d prepared for her newly instituted Wednesday night youth service. While she was ready for a visitor, she wasn’t ready to find Chief Matthew Trent and his wide shoulders filling her doorway.

The quickened beat of her heart told her a forewarning probably wouldn’t have helped, anyway. To see Matt was to—and oh, how she hated admitting this even to herself—desire him. That he was in uniform didn’t help. What was it about men in uniform? And why didn’t being a minister exempt her from those kind of thoughts? They were entirely inappropriate, and besides that, embarrassing and inconvenient!

“Got a minute?” Matt asked, and Justine felt immediate contrition. The man was clearly troubled.

“Come in. What can I do for you?”

“A couple things, actually,” he said, sinking into the chair across from her desk. “I’ve been meaning to get over here to see you ever since Friday but, with one thing and another going on, my time’s been a little tight.”

“I noticed the girls weren’t at Sunday school. Frankly, I worried that I’d chased you all away.”

“Of course you didn’t chase us away. Gina was up sick all night Saturday, so we slept in. The reason I wanted to see you is to say I was wrong to snap at you on Friday. I’d like to apologize. You were just concerned for Les, and I overreacted instead of being appreciative that you’d worry about her.”

He raked a hand through his shock of dark hair. “I’m afraid I’m a little sensitive about the girls. I made the mistake of leaning heavily on my in-laws after Diane died. Then, when Cindy was taken—”

“Taken?”

Matt sat back and crossed his ankle over his knee. “I assumed you knew what prompted our move here. Cindy was snatched from the playground at school last spring.”

Justine’s hand flew to cover her heart. “Oh dear Lord. That’s horrible.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds as if to banish the horror, then opened them and nodded. “We got lucky. A teacher who’d had Cindy in a previous grade happened to be leaving for a doctor’s appointment. She saw Cindy in the car crying. She knew me, and since I wasn’t the driver, she decided to make sure everything was all right. She drove her car across the street and blocked his car in. Better safe than sorry, she thought, and, of course, she was right. One of the male teachers saw what was happening, saw the vehicle turn around, and chased it on foot, hoping to get the plate number, at least. When the car had to stop, he managed to get the door open with Cindy’s help and pulled her out. The perp fled on foot, but the police had him in custody within the hour.”

“You must have been terrified for her.”

Matt nodded. “And that’s why I decided to move somewhere safer. My in-laws weren’t so understanding. They live about an hour the other side of Green Bay. Seth’s seventy now. He was never much of a driver, but now he hates driving through the city or on high-speed highways. And, of course, they’d gotten used to stopping in every day. I know this is a long drive, but they acted as if Safe Harbor were the dark side of the moon. I’d asked their opinion on so much for so long, they must have begun to think they had a right to dictate how and where I should raise the girls. They wanted me to keep my job with the FBI and have the girls live with them, visiting on weekends. I couldn’t even consider that.”

“After losing their mother, that would have been disastrous for them.”

Matt moved in his chair, visibly restless and tense. “That’s how I felt. Anyway, Ray called about the job in Safe Harbor, and I decided the move here would be better for all concerned. My in-laws objected and even told the girls their alternative solution without consulting me.”

“I can’t think that was right, and I, for one, think you made the right decision. As I said, the girls didn’t need to lose you as well as their mother.”

“Not to hear their grandparents tell it. They don’t think I’m capable of raising three girls alone.”

Justine could hear the hurt in his voice.

“Well, anyway,” he continued, “I’m proud of my relationship with my kids. We’re close. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them. Nothing’s more important to me than they are. I’m a good father.” A note of uncertainty entered his voice.

“Of course, you are. I never doubted that for a moment,” she assured him.

“Right now, I am. Doubting me, I mean. Sort of, anyway.” He shook his head and sat straighter, dropping the relaxed cross-legged posture. “I don’t know. I thought I’d solved any problem with Leslie’s eating on Friday night. She admitted to watching her diet so she wouldn’t gain weight in her adult years. Diane’s mother is a little on the plump side, and I think it may have had Les worried. But then we had a long talk about dieting and the reality of retouched fashion magazine photos. She seemed to understand. Then last night, I caught her tossing her dinner in the trash.

“I confronted her about it, and before I knew it we were in a raging, door-slamming battle. She hates it here. Hates me for bringing her here. She should have stayed with Seth and Mary. She called me ‘stupid’ and ‘selfish’ among other things, the kindest of which was ‘dictator.’ She apologized later but…” He grimaced.

The man was heartbroken. “But you thought you were her hero and it hurts that she’s coming to see things about you she characterizes as faults.”

Matt blinked and stared at her. “How did you know that?”

“I’m smarter than the average minister because I’m a woman,” she teased, shooting him a grin.

The teasing did no good. Matt was just too upset to unwind that easily. “One of the things she really unloaded about is that practically every minute we’re together has something to do with chores. She’s right. Between trying to get completely moved in—my garage is still wall-to-wall boxes—and all the everyday things Diane would have handled while I was at work…” He sighed. “She told me later that she was just angry but… Justine, I’m not sure she meant it. I thought I knew my daughter.”

“I’m sure you do. More than the average male parent of a thirteen-year-old girl. It’s a very difficult period. So much changes in that year. I often feel sorry for those ninth graders. They don’t really belong in the junior high building nor the high school building. She’s growing up, Matt, and unfortunately that means growing away, as well. It’s a natural, albeit painful, process.”

Matt scrubbed his hand over his face. “I wish I were sure that’s all there is to it. Listen, I know it’s an imposition, but would you mind coming over for dinner one night soon and just sort of observing her? Maybe you’ll see something I’m missing. And maybe if she hears another woman in an informal setting talking about this dieting idea, she’ll see she’s going at it all wrong.”

Justine really didn’t think she’d be able to help, but didn’t want to close the door with a refusal. “It isn’t an imposition at all. I’m always here for the kids and their parents. Besides, it’ll save me cooking for myself at least one night.”

“Would tonight be too soon?”

“No. Tonight would be fine.”

He smiled broadly, his relief palpable. “Thanks.”

At six-thirty sharp, Justine pulled up in the Trents’ driveway and took a moment to send a quick prayer heavenward that she wouldn’t misstep.

She was only halfway up the walk when the front door flew open and Cindy and Gina spilled out with Matt trailing behind.

“Don’t knock the poor woman over, girls,” he called after them, as they both barreled into her, shooting greetings and queries a mile a minute. She put her arms around both girls and tried to answer.

“Now, let me see. Yes, I’d love to see your room, Cindy. And, yes, I’d love to meet your friend Binky,” she said, carefully taking a baby blanket that had seen better days. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to smooth it over her hand and turn it quickly into a puppet.

“Hello, Reverend Clemens,” she said, giving Binky a squeaky voice. “Hello to you, too, Binky,” she answered, quickly changing back to her own voice. “Gina’s my person. We’re very good friends,” Binky replied.

Gina giggled and took Binky back, clumsily fashioning the puppet around her own hand. “Will you be my friend, too, and maybe stay overnight? We have bunk beds. We’ll share. Won’t we, Gina?”

“Sure,” Gina continued in the high-pitched voice she’d assigned to Binky, then quickly corrected the tone, and giggled, saying “Sure” again in her own register.

Matt cleared his throat. “I don’t think, Reverend Clemens could—”

“I really can’t,” Justine said at the same moment. They both laughed in shared camaraderie and chagrin.

“Girls, let’s get inside before dinner burns…or our guest runs for her life,” Matt put in, after scooping Gina and Binky up in his arms.

He’d promised to fix ravioli in a red meat sauce that he called gravy, a term he said he’d learned from his Italian grandmother. His Mediterranean background wasn’t a surprise to Justine. His deep brown eyes, dark complexion and nearly black hair told an unmistakable tale of Latin roots.

Justine followed the crowd inside the farmhouse-design home. She found it a pleasant surprise after the way Matt had described the state of his garage. The living room was beautifully arranged. If the rest of his home looked as put together, she would know he’d been exaggerating.

“Matt, this is lovely. You have a real talent for decorating.”

A snort came from behind and to the left. Justine turned and found Leslie leaning in the doorway of a softly lit room next to the staircase. “Like Dad knows more than how to stuff a room full of furniture.”

“Les told me where to put what, what color to paint the walls and what to hang where,” Matt confessed. “Otherwise, nothing would have been hung up and the furniture would be arranged like a doctor’s waiting room. My back still aches thinking about moving everything around till my slave-driver daughter was satisfied.”

Mindful that a lack of self-esteem was reported to be a prime cause of eating disorders, Justine jumped on the chance to bolster Leslie’s sense of self. “You have quite a talent, Leslie. Maybe someday you’ll be an interior designer.”

The teen shrugged shyly. “Mom bought it all. I just said where to put it. And the paint color was common sense. It was no big deal.”

“Oh, you’re wrong. Really. It takes the right eye to know how to arrange things this nicely. And color is so easily off a shade. I know grown women who can’t do this well. Unfortunately, I head the list. Maybe you could lend me that eye of yours someday, if it’s all right with your dad. I hate the way my place is coming together. As your dad said, it looks like a doctor’s waiting room with the furniture lined up along the walls.”

Again Leslie shrugged, but she did stand a little straighter and taller. “Yeah. Sure. I could help.”

“I guess that means I’ll be moving furniture again,” Matt said, giving a deep theatrical sigh.

Leslie rolled her eyes. “Oh, Daddy,” she said with the kind of exaggerated disgust only a thirteen-year-old can do justice to.

Justine laughed. “So, where’s this authentic Italian dinner I was promised?”

Matt tucked the younger girls in bed and settled Les down at the computer in her room to finish the rest of her homework. Then, somewhat reluctantly, he headed back to the family room where Justine waited. He watched her lovely face in silent repose reflected in the window as she stared out at the darkened sky and took a sip of the tea he’d given her before going off to see to the girls.

For a moment Matt found himself unable to move—held in check by Justine’s beauty. But, he reminded himself, he needed something of more substance from this woman—this minister—than her captivating loveliness. With his daughter’s happiness at stake, attraction took a back seat to answers. Answers he needed but feared.

Matt took a deep fortifying breath before plunging ahead into troubled waters. If she said something negative, he didn’t know how he’d handle it. There was nothing more important to him than being the best of fathers. What would he do if he’d failed?

“Everyone’s all settled,” he told her before losing his nerve.

Justine turned and smiled, but there was a hint of nervousness in her expression. “Matt,” she said, almost as if she were surprised to see him there.

“Oh-oh. You spotted a problem, didn’t you? I don’t relish hearing you tell me I’m a failure as a father, but—”

Justine’s eyes widened. “Goodness, Matt, you’re nothing of the sort. I was just going over something troubling in my mind. And it had little to do with your situation. Those girls adore you—even Leslie, as angry as you say she was with you. Her eyes simply shine when she looks at you. I’ve just been wondering if you’d ever considered hiring a part-time housekeeper to do light housework around here and to, perhaps, cook dinner?”

“Actually, I did. Just after Diane passed away. But her mother was afraid a stranger coming in and doing the things Diane used to do would upset the girls. It made sense at the time,” he added, not wanting Justine to think he was rejecting her idea out of hand.

“It may have been a mistake then but I think the two of you have carried this burden long enough. Watching Leslie tonight, I couldn’t help but think she might feel as overwhelmed as you do. Leslie’s still just a child. She tries so very hard to be helpful. Almost too hard.”

“She’s been like that ever since Diane got sick. Mary was around a lot more then, but even so, Les pitched right in to fill in the gaps. Are you saying you think that’s a bad thing?”

“I don’t honestly know. I can’t see that learning to handle responsibility is a bad thing, but maybe too much could be overwhelming. You did say she complained about all your activities together centering around chores. As I said, I have no way of knowing what she’s thinking, so I could be wrong. But I did a lot of filling in for my mother at Leslie’s age and I never stopped eating as Les seems to have.” Justine shrugged as if to admit that kids were baffling.

Les was his problem. He didn’t want to burden the pretty preacher overly much, and she seemed so concerned. “That’s the trouble with parenthood,” he said, walking away to drop into his favorite chair. “Kids don’t come with instructions written on their bottoms.”

Justine chuckled as he’d meant her to and joined him, sitting on the love seat next to his chair. “And all the books written on the subject contradict each other.”

“Exactly. So you think a housekeeper might help?”

“I don’t see how it could hurt.”

Neither did he, but he didn’t know that many people in Safe Harbor yet and he hated relying on Ray any more than he already had. Both Ray and Julie had done so much for him and the girls already. He couldn’t have them looking for a housekeeper, too.

“I actually have someone in mind,” Justine was saying, coming to his rescue. “You might know her. Elizabeth Neal. She was Safe Harbor’s post-mistress until she retired. Elizabeth is alone in the world, so she fills her life with activities like singing in the choir, organizing the town’s Harvest Fest and cooking for the needy. She actually complained last week that the Harvest Festival wasn’t the trouble it used to be. She’s done it so often and has it so well organized that it practically puts itself on. She told me that for the first time in her life she’s sorry she never married. I think she’s lonely and missing having the children and grandchildren her friends enjoy so much.”

“I think I know her. Yeah. The Harvest Fest Lady. Short? White hair? Real grandmotherly looking and always smiling?”

“That’s Elizabeth. I’ll bet she’d even be glad to fill in with the girls on days when you have to work and it doesn’t coincide with school or the After-School Days program. She’s seventy, but I’m sure she’d be able to do this with one hand tied behind her back. The woman wears me out at the church. Just don’t ask her to sew anything. You might not like the results.”

Matt shrugged, not about to let a possible gem slip through his fingers over a few stitches. “That’s what the tailor shop is for. Lead me to this wonder,” he all but begged. This was for the girls, and Elizabeth Neal sounded like the missing piece of a puzzle—a perfect fit.