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“Liberty spikes?”
She grinned, suddenly relishing the opportunity to burst his stereotype bubble, though she usually cringed at talk of her turbulent youth. “First you take white glue, then you grab sections of hair…” She pulled a piece of hair straight out to the side to illustrate. Grinning, she tilted her head, leaving a long silence.
He broke it with a groan. “How could you say something like that to a man raising three daughters all by himself? I mean, you’re a minister. If you pulled stunts like that, I’m doomed.”
She’d observed him with his daughters. It was easy to see the love and affection within his family. “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist. What I’m getting at is, I think Alan and I have a few things in common. My mother forgot I was alive most of the time.” Justine let her gaze survey the party before making eye contact with Matthew Trent. “Arlene and Jeffrey Tobridge aren’t bad people, but they’ve bought heavily into relative morality. They let Alan do whatever he wants. If it feels good, it’s okay. When he makes bad choices, they go to bat for him to get him out of trouble. My kid, right or wrong.”
Matthew nodded. “I don’t think he’s a bad kid. I think he’s trying to get their attention and their love. When they came to the station last night to pick him up, you could almost see the kid begging them to say they couldn’t condone his behavior. But they have every intention of having the flower beds he destroyed up at the Lighthouse B & B replaced professionally. They’ve also offered to pay for the bracelet he walked off with from The Quest last week. Plus they’ve already arranged to have the library cleaned after he let that skunk loose in there.”
Matt sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. “I know Judge Howard is going to go along with more parental restitution. And it isn’t going to stop the way Alan’s acting out. Charles Creasy held the parents responsible when he had my job and the judge always agreed with him. In a way they are, but— I don’t even know why I’m bothering you about this.” He frowned looking troubled. “Yes, I do. Do you have any idea how I stop this kid? Somebody’s going to get hurt and he’s going to ruin his life trying to prove his parents really do love him. What got you out of liberty spikes?”
Justine’s eyes were on the senior pastor as he chatted with an engaged couple, and she smiled. “Reverend Burns talked me out of my spikes and into the church. He convinced me I was only hurting myself—and I was. Nobody suffered but me if I skipped school, or dyed my hair some outrageous color, or smoked or stayed out all night. As I said, my mother barely knew I was around. But Alan is hurting others in trying to get his parents to put the brakes on his antics. I tried stopping him on the street after the library incident, but it was no go.” She leaned forward. “So I have another idea. Unfortunately, you’d have to supervise him, and I’d need to get Russ and Annie Mitchard to agree. After all, he hurt them when he stole the bracelet from Russ’s shop and destroyed Annie’s beautiful flower beds. I think Alan needs to see how his actions affect his victims by working off his debts to them.” She relaxed against the back of her chair. “The Mitchards’ feelings need to be taken into account, though. They may not want to deal with him.”
Matthew Trent’s eyes widened and he nodded. “What an insightful idea. I have no problem supervising the kid, but who’s going to talk Judge Howard into this?”
Justine pointed toward Reverend Burns and said conspiratorially. “The judge’s godfather, our pastor.”
Matthew’s mouth kicked up on one side in an endearing grin, just as all the children thundered into the hall with their teachers. “Daddy,” a cherub-cheeked five-year-old girl shouted and ran to Matthew. Her cap of curly chestnut-brown hair and dark eyes mirrored those of her adoring father.
“Hi, kitten,” he said, standing and swinging the little girl up high into his arms.
Justine found it hard to look at them together. There were times she wished she had the courage to take a chance on love and a family, but those things were not for her. She couldn’t be a pastor and a mother. Leading a church was too demanding. It wouldn’t be fair to the children. And besides that, she couldn’t be a mother without first being a wife, and she’d never trust any man with her heart. She’d watched firsthand what could happen to a woman who loved and lost. Especially when the man appeared to be all that was brave, heroic and trustworthy. It only hurt more to be betrayed by the likes of a George Clemens. Or a Matthew Trent.
Chapter Two
Matt had never been so relieved to see his kids. What had begun as a sort of strategy session with the new youth pastor had become uncomfortably…well…comfortable.
Originally he’d considered waiting till Reverend Burns was alone, but he’d foolishly disdained the cowardly impulse.
So what if he’d noticed Justine Clemens’s golden hair flying in a brisk wind off the lake the very day he’d first set foot in this little town to interview with the mayor and town council. So what if, for the first time in well over two years, he’d felt the sharp sting of desire for a woman. And so what if he’d been thoroughly embarrassed to learn the woman who’d reawakened that part of his life was the new minister at First Peninsula Church.
Like an idiot he’d tempted fate and approached both ministers to seek advice. And seconds later, instead of talking with two ministers or the older man, Matt had found himself talking with a bright and friendly woman named Justine. A woman he’d already known he was very attracted to. She’d turned out to be not just beautiful, but kind and funny and wise, as well.
“Girls, say hello to Reverend Clemens,” he told the three children, as he held his youngest daughter in his arms.
“Hello, Reverend,” the older two girls said in unison.
Gina, his five year old imp, really did have all the curiosity of a kitten. She tilted her head, scrunched her face and obediently said, “Hi.” Then, in his ear and in a kind of wet stage whisper, she continued, “She’s a lady and she don’t look at all like Reverend Burns.”
Justine blinked, then laughed, clearly having heard. “All ministers aren’t men and we don’t all look like Reverend Burns.”
Gina stared at Justine for a moment. “Do you got a husband?” she asked, her curiosity obviously caught by the idea of a female minister.
“No,” Justine answered, matching Gina’s serious tone perfectly.
Gina’s frown deepened. “Maybe you could come be our new mommy. Daddy’d share us. He’s pretty used to it ’cause he had to share us with our sick dead mommy.”
Matt cringed and wanted to crawl under the table. “Quiet, kitten, you can’t ask a stranger to be your mother. Remember, we talked about this already. I’m sorry,” he said to Justine. “I didn’t see that one coming at all.”
Wagging her stubby little finger to emphasize each word, Gina explained patiently, “But, Daddy, you got to listen. You said I can’t ask an already married lady to be our mommy. I asked this time. See I ’membered what you told me after I asked Ms. Dalton back at my old school to come live with us.”
Matt’s heartbeat sped up at the sound of Justine’s chuckle. Flustered, he all but begged his oldest daughter, “Leslie, would you take the girls over and get them a little snack? We’ll talk about this later, kitten.”
At thirteen, Les was such a big help. She had become a regular little mother to her nine-and five-year-old sisters. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. With a little nod of her head and a little roll of her eyes, Les ushered Cindy and Gina toward the kitchen.
“Relax, I’m fairly positive you didn’t recruit her as a matchmaker,” Justine assured him.
“Count on it! Last spring she noticed all the kids in her preschool had mommies. She started a campaign to get one for herself. My late wife, Diane, once told me that as soon as your children can talk, you no longer have the luxury of pride. She’s forever being proven right by Gina.”
Justine chuckled again—and again his heart rolled in his chest.
“She’s adorable. Don’t give it another thought.” Then a teasing little light entered Justine’s brown eyes. “So how come you and this Ms. Dalton aren’t an item.”
“That was back in Green Bay.” He sighed. “I honestly thought the campaign was over. And Mrs. Dalton wasn’t exactly my type. She was an assistant teacher at Gina’s preschool. I’m afraid Mr. Dalton, who had been married to Mrs. Dalton for nearly fifty years, would have been just a little upset to lose her to a younger man.”
“I imagine he would. Has Gina recruited any other good possibilities?”
“I think maybe she just did,” he quipped, then nearly swallowed his tongue. Where had that come from? He’d just flirted with the new minister!
Justine blushed and turned away, gesturing across the room. “I see Russ and Annie Mitchard over by the mural. I think we should ask them how our little plan to straighten out Alan sits with them. You’ll have to let me know how it all works out in the end, if they agree.”
As they approached Russ and Annie, Matt was sorry Justine had cut the conversation off, but at the same time, he was grateful. He just couldn’t seem to go back to thinking of her as Reverend Clemens. Then again, he never really had. Since the moment he had first set his eyes on her, she’d been a beautiful woman he really wanted to meet and get to know. Deciding how to do that with a minister, however, would take a little thought.
Three days later Judge Howard sentenced Alan Tobridge to two hundred hours of community service. For the next several months he’d be Matt’s responsibility three afternoons a week and every other Saturday. Judge Howard also levied a fine of five hundred dollars to help defray the cost of Alan’s vandalism up at Annie Mitchard’s B & B. The teen wouldn’t have much time to get in trouble because he had to work off the fine with a part-time job at The Quest. Matt had stopped to tell Russ at the silversmith’s shop first, and then he’d gone to tell Russ’s wife Annie, up at the B & B.
Now, on his way back down Lake Drive, he noticed Justine walking across the street toward Market Square. He imagined she was on her way to the church to get ready for Wednesday evening services. It seemed only neighborly to stop and tell her how court had gone and to offer her a ride.
Matt gave a short bleep on his siren to get her attention as he coasted to a stop behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, then walked back to his squad car as he lowered the window. He could tell her smile was automatic because she seemed to catch herself, straighten and put on an expression he guessed she thought made her look ministerial. He grinned. To him she just looked kind of cute trying not to look like a knockout.
“Was I about to jaywalk or something, Chief Trent?”
“I thought we’d established that I’m Matt. And no, you’re still on the right side of the law. I wanted to let you know how Alan’s hearing went this afternoon.”
“Oh?”
“Reverend Burns must have done a good sales job.”
“Then, the judge went along?”
“Howard went with the whole plan. Want a lift? I could probably be going your way, and I can let you know the specifics.”
She looked as if she might accept but then shook her head. “The exercise is good for me, and this weather won’t last long now that summer’s almost over.”
Matt couldn’t argue with that, even though he wanted to, so he nodded, bid her a good day and drove on. He wished he could get her out of his head, because, after two gentle rebuffs, he’d begun to think she didn’t want to be there.
Maybe she wasn’t ready to explore a relationship. When Justine had first gotten his attention, he’d felt disloyal to Diane. Then he’d remembered how Diane, a few days before her death, had made him promise not to cry, not to grieve too long and not to stay alone too long. She’d been right. Even with the girls, he was lonely. They were the center of his world—his link to the woman he’d chosen as his life partner. But they weren’t enough.
Little by little his life had filled in. He’d had a good career with the FBI. It was interesting and challenging. But when Cindy was nearly kidnapped, he’d made his first big decision for the girls’ welfare on his own. Before that, missing Diane’s sensitive and insightful opinions, he’d turned to his in-laws for advice.
That had backfired, of course.
Mary and Seth Gainer had been like parents to him, but slowly he’d noticed their becoming intrusive. He had lost count of the times he’d come home from work to find they had arrived uninvited and sent the girls’ sitter home for the day. Or the times he’d planned an outing and found them suddenly included.
He had decided things had to change, but before he’d figured out what to do, little Cindy was snatched right off the school playground. If one of the teachers hadn’t blocked the small city street with her car, the kidnapper would have gotten away and done who knows what to his precious daughter. A week later, thanks to his best friend, Ray Hunter, who lived in Safe Harbor, Matt had formulated and nailed down the perfect fix to all his problems.
He’d gone to his in-laws and told them of his plan to move the girls to Safe Harbor, an hour the other side of Green Bay, up the Door Peninsula, where he’d take over for Charles Creasy as Safe Harbor’s police chief.
And they’d turned on him.
They’d said he would never make it without their help. That he couldn’t raise the girls alone. Then they’d gone behind his back and asked the girls if they wouldn’t rather live with them and visit him on weekends. It had confused Leslie and upset the younger girls, making them all think they had to choose sides. And all because he’d wanted to raise his children in a safer environment.
And he’d been right. Here in Safe Harbor he didn’t have to worry as much. Everyone knew everyone else. Tourists were welcome but noticed, as well. His girls were safer in their new town. Much safer. They’d be happy here. He’d make sure of it.
Leslie Trent stopped at the trash can between the high school and the elementary school to ditch her lunch. She’d lost fifteen pounds in two weeks. She smiled. That had to be some kind of record! She might even post it on the chat room she’d found last night. She looked around but there were too many people watching. She’d been warned on the Web site to watch for witnesses and not to trust anyone. She’d toss the bag away in the bathroom at the station house. That would be better.
“Fatty fatty the big bad pig’s her Daddy,” Alan Tobridge shouted as he drove past with his friends. She hated him, and she hated this town.
But at least Alan Tobridge would have to eat his words soon. This morning after her shower she’d noticed her ribs showing in really great definition, just like the Web site promised. She was getting good definition around her hip bones, too. It was so easy. She just didn’t eat. Like the Web site said, she was in control of what went into her mouth even if she had to lie and sneak around to keep that control. It was so great to be able to do something about a part of her life she didn’t like.
Everything else might be out of her control, but this wasn’t. Now all the pants she’d grown out of last year fit again, and pretty soon, when they were too big, she’d get her dad to take her shopping. He’d never notice what size she was buying. Her dad was such a man when it came to clothes.
She rolled her eyes. Lately she’d begun to think he wasn’t too bright about anything. Like moving them to the sticks for a better life. Better life? The kids here looked at her like a bug under a microscope or part of an alien invasion. She hadn’t made one single friend at school, but how could she tell that to her dad? Everyone loved her dad the moment they met him.
She hadn’t seen Nanna and Grandpa for nearly three months, either. Not since they’d argued with her father about the move to Safe Harbor. He was dumb about that night, too. He didn’t think she’d heard the things they’d said because she was in bed, but it was he who hadn’t been listening. They’d said smart things like, sure, it was scary what happened to Cindy but the guy hadn’t gotten away. And that her dad was leaving a great career with a great future to be a plain old cop in the sticks. All he kept saying was that she and Cindy and Gina were his kids and he’d do what he thought was best for them. And that Nanna and Grandpa had betrayed his trust. Just because they didn’t agree with him and had asked the kids to live with them? When had her dad gotten so over-sensitive?
Cindy and Gina came out of the school a few minutes later. After she’d made sure they both had all the books they needed to do their homework, they walked along the footpath from the school to the police station so Daddy could drive them home.
There was a path through the woods that led to Haven Hills where their new house was, but he wouldn’t let them use it. Apparently walking in the woods was too dangerous. So why did he move them to the sticks and away from Green Bay, where there were sidewalks to everywhere?
When they got to the station house, Leslie stopped at the front window to inspect her reflection. She still looked fat. Maybe another five or ten pounds would do the trick. She’d get dinner all ready again and tell Dad she’d eaten while she cooked, so she could get to her homework while he and the girls ate. He’d always believed her so far. Maybe she’d skip dinner every night. It would be worth the extra work of cooking dinner alone if she got away with skipping eating. That would have her down to one meal a day.
Good thing her dad was so out of it lately.
Chapter Three
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.