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“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.”
