скачать книгу бесплатно
“Nothing. We’re just goofing around.” As if to prove his point, he gave Jeremy a friendly cuff on the shoulder.
Jeremy winced but remained silent. Jake stepped between them, forcing the others to fall back. “Doesn’t Charlie have a rule that the youngest kids get to go to the front of the line?”
“Yeah, but it’s stupid,” one of the boys muttered. “It should be whoever gets here first.”
“If that’s the case, then from what I saw Jeremy would still be ahead of you.” Jake folded his arms. “Right?”
The oldest boy looked as if he were going to argue the point when Charlie’s voice, as crackly as the speakers, broke through the hum of chatter around them.
“Okay, that’s it! There are kids waiting for me at the next stop.” The elderly man closed up the back of the truck and jumped inside, deaf to the chorus of protests that rose from the boys who had been harassing Jeremy.
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “You can go. But at the next stop, I’m going to assume you’ll go to the end of the line and there won’t be any more ‘goofing around.’”
Mumbling their agreement, the boys made a beeline for the pile of bicycles on the sidewalk in front of the café.
The rest of the children began to disperse. Jeremy’s pensive gaze followed the truck as it chugged away.
“Are you going to catch up with him at the park?” Jake asked, knowing it was the second stop on Charlie’s route.
He shook his head. “Mom doesn’t want me to go farther than the café.”
Jake frowned. When he was Jeremy’s age, he and his best friend had practically worn the rubber off their bicycle tires on summer afternoons like this. His mother had seemed to accept the nomadic lifestyle of adolescent boys. Her only rule was that Jake eat breakfast before he left the house in the morning and be back in time for supper. And what happened during the hours in between he didn’t need to account for.
Given the way Emma had hovered close to Jeremy the first time they’d met, Jake had a hunch she wasn’t as lenient.
“Mom is still at the library. I should go back.” Jeremy squared his thin shoulders.
Jake couldn’t help but be moved by the boy’s valiant attempt to hide his disappointment. “Do you want a ride?” he heard himself say.
The blue eyes widened. “In the police car?”
“That’s what I’m driving.” Jake couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “Hop in.”
Jeremy didn’t have to be told twice. He was sitting in the passenger seat with his seat belt buckled before Jake opened the driver’s side door.
“My dad drove a car like this, didn’t he?”
The innocent question took Jake off guard. Did Jeremy remember his father? “I’m sure it was similar,” he said carefully. “But it probably didn’t have a laptop like this one.”
“It’s important to keep up with changes in technology,” Jeremy said seriously as he leaned forward to study the radar gun mounted to the dash.
“That’s right.” Jake’s lips twitched as he turned the car around. “How is the apple tree doing?”
“I think it’s going to live. And it’s better than flowers, even if we didn’t have anything to take to the cemetery.”
Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He hadn’t considered that the bouquet the police department gave Emma would end up on Brian’s grave.
Further proof that he’d made a mistake.
“There’s Mom.” Jeremy pointed out the window.
Emma stood on the sidewalk in front of the library, her willowy figure accentuated by the white blouse and knee-length denim skirt she wore. Her gaze was riveted on the squad car.
The expression on her face warned Jake that he’d just made another mistake.
The sight of a squad car cruising down the street caused Emma’s hands to clench at her sides. It was silly, she knew, to have such a strong reaction to a vehicle.
She steeled herself, waiting for it to go past. Instead, the car glided to a stop in front of the library.
The sight of a familiar face in the window squeezed the air from her lungs.
What happened?
The words stuck in Emma’s throat as she watched Jake Sutton’s lean frame unfold from the vehicle. He prowled around to the passenger side and opened the door.
“Chief Sutton gave me a ride in the squad car, Mom.” Jeremy was smiling as he jumped out. “It’s pretty sweet.”
“But…” Emma struggled to find her voice. “What about the ice cream? Didn’t you catch up to Charlie in time?”
The smile faded. “Yeah.”
Emma sensed there was more to the story and her heart sank. “Was someone bothering you again?”
“You know Brad and his friends. They just like to show off,” Jeremy mumbled.
She glanced at Jake and found him regarding her with that measuring look. The one that made her want to run for cover.
“Everything is fine,” he said. “Jeremy mentioned you were at the library, so I offered to give him a ride back.”
“And he let me turn on the lights.” Jeremy’s smile returned.
Emma caught her breath as a memory surfaced, momentarily breaking through the grief that had formed like a crust of ice over her heart.
On Brian’s official first day with the Mirror Lake police department, he had stopped home and handed her a camera, shamelessly turning his lunch break into a twenty-minute photo session. His attempt to strike a serious pose had made Emma laugh—which had sparked Brian’s laughter in return.
Every one of those moments had been captured in heartbreaking detail except for one difference.
That carefree young woman was someone Emma no longer recognized. Someone who no longer existed.
Watching Emma’s eyes darken, Jake realized he’d done more than cross a line. He’d inadvertently stirred up something in her past. It was possible that in order to cope, Emma had found it easier to tend her grief instead of her memories.
“Mom?” Jeremy tugged on her arm. “It’s got a really great computer, too. They can look up all kind of things. I’m not in it, though, so we looked up you instead.”
Jake winced as Emma snapped back to the present and turned on him.
“Me?”
Jake smiled, hoping she would realize that running her name through the system had been a harmless illustration to satisfy Jeremy’s curiosity, not an invasion of her privacy. “Date of birth March fifteenth. And you have a very clean driving record.”
Emma took a step back. “Jeremy, it’s time to go. I have to lock up now.”
The message in her blue eyes was clear.
If Emma had her way, that was all he would know about her.
Chapter Four
Emma was up to her wrists in wet cement when her cell phone rang. She managed to dry off her hands and wrestle the phone from the pocket of her jeans on the fourth ring, seconds before the call went to voice mail.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Barlow? This is Pastor Wilde from Church of the Pines.”
Emma’s fingers tightened on the phone.
She should have expected this. Jeremy had been drawn into the church’s fold by a colorful flyer he’d seen stapled to the bulletin board at the library, advertising a special weeklong children’s program. Emma had agreed to let him participate, assuming her son’s interest would end once the seven days were over. She hadn’t considered that Jeremy would want to start attending the worship services, but at his insistence they’d gone to Church of the Pines the past few Sundays.
For his sake, she’d endured the sermons that reminded her God loved her, and smiled politely at people while keeping a careful distance. But while Emma had ignored the little white cards the ushers handed out, asking for the name, address and phone number of visitors, she remembered that Jeremy had diligently filled one out each time.
Emma looked at the pieces of colored glass scattered on her work table, silently calculating how much time she had before the mixture began to set up.
“I’m right in the middle of something…” She paused, hoping the pastor would take the hint.
“When would be a good time to call back?”
The pleasant voice remained cheerful but firm, letting Emma know that her hesitance was only prolonging the inevitable. “I suppose I have a few minutes right now. What is it you wanted to talk about?”
“I’m calling people to let them know about the mentoring ministry picnic on Saturday afternoon. It starts at noon—”
“Mentoring ministry?” Emma knew it wasn’t polite to interrupt but she couldn’t prevent the words from spilling out. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Pastor Wilde.” And the last thing she wanted to do was get involved with Church of the Pines. Sitting through the Sunday morning services was proving difficult enough.
A moment of silence followed. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Barlow.” Pastor Wilde sounded a little confused. “There was a short write-up in the bulletin this past Sunday. Local boys from single-parent families are matched with men from the congregation who commit to spending several hours a week with them. It can be helping with homework, grabbing a burger or shooting hoops together. Whatever the pair decides to do. My job as the coordinator is to pray for any specific needs they might have and oversee the group activities once a month.”
Single-parent families.
There it was. No matter how hard she tried to be both mom and dad to Jeremy—to meet all his needs—their home fell into that category. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t had a choice. That Brian’s death had pushed them there.
“I doubt that Jeremy would be interested. He’s very shy and wouldn’t be comfortable meeting with someone he doesn’t know.” And neither would I, Emma added silently.
Pastor Wilde cleared his throat. “Ah, Jeremy is interested, Mrs. Barlow. In fact, he turned in a registration form already.”
The phone almost slipped through Emma’s fingers. “Are you sure it was Jeremy? Maybe it was his Sunday school teacher. Or another adult.”
Emma heard the sound of papers rustling.
“I’m, ah, looking at his signature right now.”
She released a quiet breath, unwilling to believe that Jeremy had signed up on his own. One of the older boys must have decided to play a practical joke on her introverted son. It wouldn’t be the first time. “I’ll talk to Jeremy. Thank you for calling.”
“Mrs. Barlow?” Pastor Wilde must have sensed she was about to hang up. “Attending the picnic on Saturday doesn’t mean Jeremy is obligated to join the program. Abby Porter offered to host the picnic at Mirror Lake Lodge and there will be an informal question-and-answer time after lunch.
“I should add that I’ve personally met with all the prospective mentors and they’ve had extensive background checks done. It’s a blessing we’ve got men who are willing to donate their time and energy to be positive role models.”
Positive role models to boys without fathers.
“It sounds like a good idea,” Emma murmured.
For someone else’s child.
She couldn’t imagine letting Jeremy spend time with someone she didn’t know, background check or not.
“Then we’ll see you and Jeremy on Saturday?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Emma hung up the phone. At least she hadn’t lied. She did think about it.
And the answer was no.
Why had she said yes?
Emma took one look at the people milling around the immaculate, beautifully landscaped lawn and almost turned the car around.
She glanced at Jeremy, who was already wrestling his seat belt off. Her son’s eager expression answered the question.
After that disturbing phone call from Pastor Wilde, Emma had waited until dinnertime to bring up the subject of the mentoring ministry, still convinced there had been a mistake—that someone else had turned in the registration form with her son’s name on it.
Jeremy’s whoop of excitement, however, had immediately proved Emma’s theory wrong. She hadn’t been prepared for his enthusiasm when he learned about the pastor’s invitation to the picnic…or his reaction when she told him they wouldn’t be able to go.
Emma winced at the memory.
He’d been crushed.
So Emma had explained—quite patiently she’d thought—the reasons why she didn’t think that being involved in the mentoring program was a good idea.
Jeremy had listened. And then her quiet, sensitive little boy had leaned forward, looked her straight in the eye and suggested a compromise.
A compromise!
“Mom, you’re always telling me that it isn’t a good idea to jump to conclusions, right? That a person should do some research before making a decision. I think we should go to the picnic and find out the facts. If you decide you don’t want me to do it, then I’ll be okay with that.”
How could she argue? Especially since it was obvious which member of the Barlow family was guilty of “jumping to conclusions” this time!
The request was fair. Reasonable. But now, watching a group of preadolescent boys zigzag across the lawn in hot pursuit of the one carrying a football, Emma was convinced she’d made a mistake.
“Jeremy—” The car door snapped the sentence in half.
Tension curled in Emma’s stomach.
