Still Waters

“No. Though I doubt they’d acknowledge their likeness at this time in their lives.”

“Probably not. Too bad Tom’s not living up to his father’s example. James is a good man. A hard worker.”

“Tom will be, too. He just needs some focus.”

Jake raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “A lot of folks wouldn’t see it that way.”

“I’m not a lot of folks.”

“No. You definitely aren’t.”

Tiffany wasn’t sure if the statement was a compliment or criticism. She decided to ignore it. “Well, regardless of what other people think, I’m convinced Tom is a decent young man. As for being a hard worker, I’ll find out soon enough. I offered him a job.”

Something flared in Jake’s eyes and was quickly extinguished. “Hopefully it will keep him out of trouble.”

“That’s the plan.”

Jake nodded, his face set in an expression Tiffany couldn’t read. “Good luck. Now, I’d better get the Bishops back home.”

“All right. Goodbye.”

“Bye.” As quickly as he had come, Jake was gone and the yard fell into silence once again.

Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Tiffany turned back to the fence. Jake seemed concerned about Tom working for her, though she had to give him credit for not saying as much. She couldn’t help wondering if Brian would be as willing to hold his tongue.

Shrugging away the worry, she went back to work on the fence, smiling as Bandit slipped out of his hiding place and plopped down on her feet. There were white splotches of paint on his midnight coat, and Tiffany wondered how difficult it would be to wrestle him into a bath. Probably very difficult.

Oh, well, he looked rather cute with white polka dots.

She reached into the pocket of her shorts and pulled out an animal cracker, then dropped it down onto the ground in front of Bandit. He inhaled it and looked up for more, the expression in his eyes so soulful, Tiffany had to laugh. “Getting a bit spoiled already, are you? That’s okay, I’m enjoying your company so you deserve a treat.”

She dropped a few more animal crackers down. “Hey, maybe Brian will stop by later. Add a little life to our paint party. What do you think?”

The dog woofed a response before dropping his head across Tiffany’s feet. She stepped to the side and lifted her paintbrush, smoothing another coat over the picket. “You know, I think I’m going to like having a dog. Talking to you is so much better than talking to myself.”

A soft snore was Bandit’s only response.

“So Tiffany offered Tom Bishop a job and you don’t approve.” Ben Avery’s words were muffled, his face half-hidden by the lid of the tackle box he was searching through.

Jake waited until his friend was upright in the bow of the boat before responding. “It’s not that I don’t approve. I’m just surprised. Tom’s been in and out of trouble for years. I’d think Ms. Anderson would want to keep her distance. That would be the wise thing to do.”

Ben chuckled as he pulled his fishing line out of the water and rebaited the hook. “Tiffany isn’t known for making choices based on the world’s wisdom. She makes them based on her heart.”

“Yeah. I’m getting that impression. Maybe someone should talk to her.”

“About what? About caring? About giving a chance to a kid who isn’t going to get one from anyone else?”

“Chances are for people who earn them. Not for smart-alecky kids with chips on their shoulders.”

“Everyone deserves a chance, Jake. You know that.”

Jake sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I know. Unfortunately, experience has taught me that most kids like Tom don’t respond well to second, third and fourth chances.”

“But some do.”

“The minority.”

“That minority would be lost if not for people like Tiffany.”

“And Will. Look what happened to him.” Jake knew he sounded bitter. He was bitter. William Banks had been his partner for ten years. His best friend for just as long.

“He was a police officer. His situation was completely different than Tiffany’s.”

“Not so different.” Jake cast his own fishing line, forcing his emotions down before he continued speaking. “Will was murdered by a kid he’d been mentoring for a year.”

“I didn’t realize that.”

Jake shrugged and gazed out over the still water of the lake. “He devoted his life to kids like Tom. Volunteered at the community center when he had time. Tried to set an example of what a man should be. The thanks he got was a bullet to the chest.”

“And you think the same thing is going to happen to Tiffany?”

“Who knows? I just hope she understands what she’s getting herself into. All the affection, help and chances in the world can’t change a kid who doesn’t want to be changed.”

“She’s doing what she thinks is right. Living by the second greatest commandment—love your neighbor as yourself.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“You can’t argue with anything I say. I’m your pastor.”

Jake shook his head and scooped up a handful of water, sending it flying toward his fishing companion. “Yeah, well, I’m your sheriff. So watch yourself.”

Ben just smirked and leaned back against the vinyl seat. “Don’t make me sic the ladies’ auxiliary on you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“No? Don’t bet on it, friend.”

And Jake wouldn’t. He knew Ben Avery to be as tenacious as a bull terrier, and twice as wily. Seven months ago Ben had spotted Jake amidst his congregation. From that moment on, his mission had been to befriend the town’s new sheriff. Evening visits, phone calls—Ben had slowly but surely infiltrated his way into Jake’s solitary existence.

Something Jake would be eternally grateful for.

He sighed and rebaited the hook on his line. The gentle swell and sway of water rocked the boat’s hull, the lulling movements helping to ease away some of Jake’s tension. Gold-and-pink clouds dotted the horizon, the sunset slowly fading their color to silver and gray. Around the boat tiny insects buzzed in clouds of annoying energy, and every few minutes a fish or frog splashed its presence.

Jake enjoyed it all—the hum of life, the slow drifting pace of the day. Though his week’s vacation had started off rocky, it had improved as the day wore on.

Had Tiffany’s day gotten better? Was she still painting the white picket fence? Or was she off somewhere, offering friendship to another lonely soul? Maybe rescuing more hapless creatures? If so, who would rescue her? Certainly not her boyfriend. Dr. Brian. The man sounded like a loser.

“So, who’s Dr. Brian?” The question was out before Jake knew he was going to ask it.

The speculative gleam in Ben’s eyes made him wish he hadn’t. “Interesting.”

“Dr. Brian?”

“No. You. We’ve been out here for an hour and in that time we’ve discussed Tiffany Anderson saving a dog, Tiffany Anderson offering a job to a kid, and now you want to discuss Tiffany Anderson’s boyfriend.”

“I don’t want to discuss him. Doris mentioned the name this morning and I wondered who he was.”

“Dr. Brian McMath is a family practitioner. Good doctor.”

“That’s it?”

“And he’s Tiffany Anderson’s boyfriend.”

“Not a very good one.” Jake wanted to pull the words back but it was too late. Ben’s gaze settled on him once again.

“According to who?”

“According to me. He was supposed to meet Tiffany at Becky’s. By the time we got there he’d gone to prayer meeting and left her to find her own way home.”

“I guess Brian has his priorities.”

“Shouldn’t Tiffany be one?”

“That’s for Tiffany to decide.”

Jake bit back a comment that wasn’t fit to be spoken and forced himself to let the topic go. “True. And it’s not my business, anyway.”

“No?”

Jake was saved from responding by the beep of his pager. He checked the number and shook his head. “Looks like there’s more trouble. I’m going to have to call it a day.”

“I thought this was your vacation.” Ben reeled in his line, and started the boat’s motor.

“It is, but I told dispatch to keep me informed. There’s been too much petty crime this summer, and I’ve got a feeling things are going to escalate.”

“So what’s happened this time?”

“Some windows smashed at the middle school. I want to go interview the neighbors. See if anyone saw anything.”

“Any hope of that?” Ben spoke as he maneuvered the boat into the dock.

“Not much. Whoever’s causing the trouble is being careful not to get caught. That won’t last for long, though. Sooner or later he’ll get cocky and make a mistake. Then I’ll slap him with every punishment available under the law.”

“Sounds harsh, Jake. This is Small Town, U.S.A. Not the big city. People here will expect you to be lenient. Especially if it’s kids involved.”

“Not kids. A gang. I’ve dealt with enough to know the signs.”

“Still—”

Jake held up his hand, forestalling the words. “Like I said before, giving kids second chances just gives them the opportunity to commit more crimes. I won’t do that. No matter what people here expect.”

“Understood, friend. So let’s get moving. We don’t want to miss all the excitement.”

“We?”

“Sure, what better way to get people to tell the truth than to have a pastor along? Besides, we rode here together, remember?”

Jake hesitated. In D.C., he wouldn’t have considered taking a civilian along on a police matter, but here in Lakeview things were different. That was one of the reasons he’d taken the job as sheriff. One of them. “All right. Let’s go.”

Chapter Four

Tiffany rubbed at the tension in her neck and tried to ignore the loud conversation going on in the living room. Brian and his parents were discussing Lakeview’s summer crime wave. Though she was as interested in the welfare of the community as anybody, Tiffany figured five play-by-play descriptions of the broken windows at the middle school, the sheriff’s quick response to the crime scene, the dusting for fingerprints and the interviewing of witnesses was overkill. She shook her head at her own irritation and vowed to try to be a more pleasant hostess.

Or maybe she’d just keep hiding in the kitchen until the McMaths left.

The fact was, Tiffany needed a break from her Sunday afternoon routine. If the aches in her arms and legs hadn’t told her that, the image reflected in the gleaming surface of the toaster she was cleaning would have. Deep lavender smudges shadowed the area under her eyes. Dull, reddish curls escaped the confines of the chignon she’d scraped her hair into that morning. And her skin, pale on the best of days, looked like the underside of a toad—greenish-white with a shiny glow. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning and it showed.

Turning away from her reflection, Tiffany used a damp cloth to wipe the counter. Then, with quick, efficient movements, she unplugged the coffeepot, placed the last mug in the cupboard, and turned to inspect the kitchen. Every surface gleamed, including the floor which Tiffany had scrubbed within an inch of its old-linoleum life. A haphazard housekeeper, Tiffany accepted her cleaning frenzy for what it had been—avoidance.

Cleaning the kitchen had been a good excuse for escaping the living room and Brian’s parents. Though the McMaths had always been kind to Tiffany and she enjoyed their company, somehow their presence at lunch every Sunday afternoon had become a habit. A habit only Tiffany seemed to be getting tired of.

Worse, she couldn’t remember the last time she and Brian had spent any time alone together and that, along with a whole list of niggling worries, had kept Tiffany from sleeping. Now she was tired, frustrated and annoyed. She needed some time to herself. Time to think about Brian and their relationship. Or lack of one. What she did not need was a three-hour discussion on Sheriff Reed and his dedication to his job.

The loud conversation quieted, and floorboards creaked. A moment later, the McMaths called their goodbyes and Tiffany responded in kind, glancing out from the kitchen and waving, before retreating to her spot beside the kitchen sink.

Brian stepped into the room, a smile on his face and questions in his eyes. “Lunch was great. As usual. Thanks.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Did you put the leftovers out on the porch for Bandit?”

“Yes, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea for a dog to eat table food. You’ll spoil him.”

“I don’t think a dog can be spoiled.”

Brian shrugged in response, the silence in the room stretching out as he surveyed the clean floor and gleaming counters. “You were being a Martha today.”

“What do you mean?”

“A Martha…you know, busy cleaning instead of talking to your guests.”

Tiffany felt her cheeks redden at the veiled criticism and bit back an angry retort. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steer their conversation back to safer ground. “Your parents didn’t seem to mind. And your mom came in to chat with me for a while. She’s really enjoying that quilting class she’s taking.”

“Yeah, and I guess she’s pretty good at it. She said one of the quilts is going to be on display at a regional folk art show. Maybe I can get some time off and we can go see it.”

Tiffany didn’t respond. Instead she reached for a teacup, filled it with water, and placed it in the microwave.

“Is that decaf?”

Startled by the question, Tiffany glanced down at the tea bag she’d taken from the cupboard. “I don’t know. I think so.”

“If you’re not sure, you probably shouldn’t drink it. Caffeine can increase appetite. You’re doing so well on your diet. I’d hate for you to blow it.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” Jerking open the microwave, Tiffany dropped the tea bag into the heated water, turning her back to Brian in the process. The last thing she wanted was a lecture about healthy eating.

“Tiff, something’s bothering you. Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

Tiffany shrugged and turned to face the man she had pinned so many dreams on. “I’m upset about what happened yesterday, Brian. I’m afraid of what it says about us.”

Brian’s brow furrowed, a puzzled expression replacing his concern. “I apologized for leaving you at the diner.”

Tiffany met Brian’s gaze, then looked down into her teacup, watching the water turn brown as she tried to think of words that would express her concern as well as her disappointment. “Yes, you did but that doesn’t change what happened.”

“Okay, I thought we’d settled this last night but I guess we didn’t.” Brian ran a hand through his hair. Tiffany was sure he glanced at his watch while he was at it. “Why don’t we go in the living room and figure out what’s going on here?”

“Fine.” Tiffany led the way down the hall and into the large room she used for company. Two overstuffed chairs and a love seat created a cozy U around the room’s fireplace. Tiffany dropped onto the love seat and took a sip of her tea as Brian made himself comfortable in one of the chairs.

When he spoke he did so with an air of weariness that made Tiffany wish she had waited another day or two before starting this conversation. “Look, I’m not happy about what happened, either. I sat at the diner, alone, waiting for you. I was almost late for my meeting because you took a detour by the lake.”

“I almost drowned, Brian.”

“I know that. And now you’re taking responsibility for a huge mutt and a juvenile delinquent. I don’t understand how you could even consider letting Tom work for you.”

Anger rose swift and vicious, sending blood pumping hard through Tiffany’s veins. She swallowed it down. “Tom is not a delinquent. He’s a boy who’s getting into trouble because he has too much time on his hands. His mother abandoned him years ago, his father drives trucks because their farm is going under. The kid is alone more than he’s with someone. No wonder he’s having problems.”

“Everyone in town knows the boy’s situation. It is sad but it’s not an excuse for poor behavior.”

“You’re right, it isn’t an excuse. It is a reason. Tom needs something constructive to do while his father is away. The job I’m offering him will fill up his time and keep him out of trouble.”

“Or bring the trouble to you. Come on, Tiffany, even you can’t be so naive as to think giving the kid a job is going to change him.”

Anger surged again and this time Tiffany let it have its way. Rising from the couch, she stretched to her full five foot eight inches, and glared at Brian who rose to face her. “I’m a thirty-three-year-old woman who built a computer support business from the ground up. My company is pulling in a profit every year. If I were as stupid and naive as you seem to think I am, I would never have accomplished what I have.”

“I never said you were stupid.”

“Stupid. Naive. It’s all the same when I’m being treated like a child.”

Brian’s eyes widened in surprise, his lithe form tense and stiff with anger. Silence stretched between them, thick as morning fog. Then, as suddenly as the argument had begun, it was over. Tension eased out of Brian’s shoulders and he ran a hand through his short blond hair. “I’m sorry for calling you naive. I’m just concerned.”

Tiffany sighed and shook her head. “But not concerned enough to wait for me at the diner.”

“Tiff…”

“Nothing you say can change the fact that your prayer meeting was more important to you than I was. And if that’s the case, I don’t think we have a future.” Tiffany paused for a moment, gathering the courage to say what she had to. “And, if we don’t have a future, then I don’t see any reason to keep seeing each other.”

“I think yesterday was more stressful for you than either of us realized. You’re exhausted. Why don’t I go home and let you rest? We can talk about this again when you’re more yourself.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

“Want me to pick you up for evening service?”

“No. I’ll drive my own car.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Thanks, anyway.”

“All right,” Brian hesitated, unsure in a way Tiffany had never seen before. “We’ll talk about this again. Soon.”

“Right.” Tiffany walked Brian to the front door and allowed herself to be pulled into a quick hug.

“We’re signed up to help with the youth volleyball game before church tonight.” Brian opened the door and stepped out into midday heat. “See you then?”

“Yes, but, Brian, I meant what I said.”

Brian, already halfway down the porch steps, turned and nodded. “I know.”

Tiffany watched as he drove away. Then stared out at her overgrown front lawn, wondering why it had taken her a year to realize that her relationship with Brian was no more than a convenience for either of them.

Only when Bandit nudged her hand and whined for attention did Tiffany shake herself from her thoughts. “Feeling lonely, big guy? Me, too. Don’t worry, we can keep each other company while I work.”

Tiffany stepped back into the house, shutting the door on the heat, and on her worries. She and Brian would have their talk eventually, but as far as Tiffany was concerned they had already said everything of importance. Now she had to get to work renovating the Victorian monstrosity she’d purchased with thoughts of children and grandchildren in mind.

Maybe Tiffany would never have the husband and family she desired, but at least she’d have a nice home to live in. Swallowing back the lump that formed in her throat, she grabbed the electric sander and set to work.

Five hours later Tiffany sat in her beat-up Cadillac, listening to the engine sputter and cough. A hand-me-down from her parents, the car had served her well for the past three years, and would continue to do so as long as she remembered to fill the gas tank. A task Tiffany would have performed had she not been running late.

Caught up in the job of stripping paint from the carved oak mantel on the living room fireplace, Tiffany had lost track of time. When the phone rang she had been too engrossed in her work to answer it. Luckily the answering machine had been turned up high, and even with the radio blasting into the room, she’d been able to hear Brian’s message—another offer to give her a ride to church. If not for the timely phone call, she might still be removing layers of paint from wood. As it was, she was probably still wearing flakes of the stuff.

Worse, she was coasting on empty, the car giving one last sputtering sigh as the engine gave out. Using the car’s forward momentum, Tiffany maneuvered to the side of the road and pulled to a stop. She resisted the urge to bang her head against the steering wheel, and focused instead on coming up with a plan of action. Most days she loved rural life, but at times like this, she would have been happy to be driving through the middle of the city, a gas station on every corner.

Unfortunately, Tiffany wasn’t in the city and the church was six miles ahead; the nearest gas station ten miles back. That, and the fact that she’d left her cell phone sitting on the kitchen counter, made her options few.

Though summer added length to daylight hours, it also added heat. Tiffany was thankful for the first and worried about the latter. She’d make it to the church before dark if she didn’t collapse from the heat first.

Of course, there was a chance someone would drive by and offer her a ride. Not much of a chance though, since Tiffany had bypassed Main Street and headed for church on one of the least traveled roads in Lakeview. Sighing in exasperation she opened the car door and stepped out into the heat. Waves of scorching air floated up from the pavement, curling around Tiffany’s ankles and up her legs, hugging her body like a thick winter coat.

She was covered with sweat before she took a step.

Even sweating and stumbling along in high heels, Tiffany didn’t mind the first mile. The second mile took more effort, and by the third, she would have given her life’s savings for a drink of water. “Why did I take this road? Of all the roads I could have chosen, why the one that no one travels?”

But of course Tiffany knew the answer. She’d been running late and had hoped to make up for lost time by avoiding traffic and stop signs. She’d succeeded. There hadn’t been a car or a sign for miles.

By the time Tiffany reached the crossroad two miles from church, a pulsing pain beat behind her eyes and her stomach knotted with a familiar and dreaded nausea. With each step the pain grew sharper and soon Tiffany’s desire for water was replaced by an overwhelming need to find a quiet, dark place to hide. Sinking down onto the thick roadside grass, she rested her head on her knees and prayed the migraine would pass quickly.

Jake’s day had been pleasant until he spotted the abandoned car. He’d gone to church, had lunch at the diner and spent the afternoon exploring the back roads of Franklin County. Though he’d been living in rural Virginia for a year, the novelty of traffic-free travel hadn’t worn off and Jake often took the back roads for the sheer pleasure of not seeing another car.

Today was no different. Prompted by Ben Avery, Jake had decided to attend evening service and had picked a long, winding route to the church. He’d been enjoying the play of greens and browns in the fields that lined Old Farm Road when he saw the car.

Long, lean and old, the Cadillac was as easy to spot as a whale on the beach. Though abandoned cars weren’t unusual, finding one on a little-used road was. Jake pulled over to examine the vehicle. The doors and windows were locked, the trunk closed tight, and the car empty.

Relieved, Jake got back in his truck and called in the tag number. His relief was short-lived.

Tiffany Anderson owned the car.

Jake figured a woman willing to risk her life for a dog, one ready to give a chance to a troubled teenager, might just offer a ride to a hitchhiker. He could picture Tiffany, red-gold hair swirling in a tangle of curls, smiling as she motioned for some not-so-helpless man to get into her car.

Jake examined the vehicle again, looking closely for signs of a struggle. He saw nothing that would lead him to believe Tiffany was in danger, but that did little to allay his concern. Images rose in his mind, images of other women. Women as compassionate and softhearted as Tiffany, who had been repaid evil for their kindness.