Love's Late Arrival (Sweet Grove Romance Book 1; First Street Church #8)

by Sharon Hughson

  Please, God. I know I don’t deserve any special favors. She drew a shuddering breath. I’m not sure anyone here truly needs me, but I don’t want to die that way.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the scorch of tears. They won, and she sopped her face with a tissue. The antiseptic smell of the room choked her, and her feet twitched to flee. And do what? Outrun cancer. Her hand shook as she reached to check the time on her phone.

  I can’t drive like this.

  Maybe a cup of coffee would calm her worries. Her mouth salivated at the incongruous thought that caffeine held soothing properties.

  What else would a girl raised near Seattle think?

  8

  Late afternoon sunlight brought beads of moisture to Roth’s scalp. He resisted the urge to smooth his fingers through his thinning hair on the way back into the hospital after his walk.

  Automatic doors swished open. A couple exited as he swept into the lobby. Cold air soothed his flush of exertion. The volunteer at the desk greeted him, so Roth raised his hand and responded in kind.

  He glanced at his watch. It was time to head home, but he needed to finish altering next week’s schedule. Thanks to an emergency for one of the interns, covering the ER would require extra hours for several doctors and nurses.

  As he neared the food court, conveniently located across from the elevators, his nose twitched at the scent of coffee. He was trying to cut back on caffeine, so he resisted its magnetic pull. The elevator dinged as Roth reached for the button. Several lab coats flowed out, behind them a familiar woman.

  Straight, blonde hair covered half her face as she fiddled with her smart phone. When she looked up, her denim blue eyes devastated him. His heart and stomach wrestled in his chest, and his breath quickened, as if he’d run through the hallway.

  Kyanna Patchett. Better to think of her as Ariel’s principal.

  Kyanna swiped at her hair, and he thought he saw her hand tremble. She tucked silky strands behind her ear, and her sweet peach lips curled into a smile, making him forget whatever he’d been thinking.

  “Mr. Stryker.” Her voice caressed his name, the northwestern accent giving it a definition he liked.

  “Mizz Patchett.” He ducked his head. “Here on business?”

  “An appointment with the imaging lab.” Her eyes flicked away for a moment.

  She stopped beside him in the hallway. Several people filed into the open elevator. A technician put her hand in front of the doors.

  “Going up?” she asked.

  Roth shook his head. “I’ll catch the next one. Thanks.”

  Fresh-picked apples scented the air. His stomach rumbled, and he covered it with one hand.

  “X-ray, ultrasound, CAT, or MRI?” Roth ticked off the list on his fingers.

  “Ultrasound. But that’s over now.” She swiped her hand as if clearing the air in front of her. “That delicious smelling coffee promises to fortify me for the drive home.” Her eyes held an unspoken invitation.

  Dared he? His brain rebelled at the idea, but a part of him that had been in a five-year ice age urged him to ignore good sense. Hadn’t he just been thinking how wonderful the coffee smelled?

  “Care if I join you?”

  “Nothing’s worse than drinking alone.” A light laugh spilled out behind the words, sending tingles up Roth’s spine.

  His hand brushed her arm as they strode through the wide doorway into the atrium lined on two sides with food vendors. The furthest end opened into the garden courtyard that many patient rooms overlooked. Echoes reverberated instead of music, proof of the offices flanking the upper hallway, open to the vaulted, glassed-in room.

  “Let me buy your coffee,” he said when she slipped her wallet out of her handbag.

  “Maybe I should buy yours.” She tilted her head, handing a bill to the cashier. The woman behind the register looked at him, as if waiting for his order.

  He shook his head, and the cashier finished ringing the sale. “How un-Southern of me to let a lady buy.”

  “Is my West Coast showing again?” She glanced down as if searching for stray fabric dangling from her backside.

  Roth’s eyes followed hers, noting full curves outlined by navy slacks. He shook himself and snapped his gaze back to the cashier who was asking for his order. Heat flamed over his face, and his lips felt leaden as he said, “Black coffee, house blend.”

  To Kyanna he said, “At least let me carry the drinks.”

  When she nodded, he motioned toward the tables. “Sit wherever.”

  Although the thought of watching her walk away made his chest tighten, he forced his gaze to the barista.

  A few deep breaths later, their coffee orders arrived on the pick-up counter. He glanced around, seeing her tapping away on her smart phone at a table near the garden entrance.

  Roth set the cup beside her hand and pulled out the nearest chair. Experience taught him that normal conversation could be difficult to hear in the atrium.

  “Thanks.” She placed the phone face down on the table and cuddled the cup as if her hands were chilled, and it wasn’t ninety degrees outside.

  Roth blew the steam off the top of his coffee. His mind spun in search of a topic. Kyanna stared around the room before finally settling her gaze on him.

  “Thanks for suggesting the youth group.” The words fell from his mouth.

  Her smile made a crank turn in his chest.

  “Did Ariel make some friends?”

  Roth squeezed his lips together. “She thought the song leader was cute.”

  Kyanna tossed her head back and laughed. The sound of it sent a shiver of pleasure through him.

  “If you could see your face.” She shook her head, grinning. “That’s a standard teenage girl observation.”

  Roth’s lips tilted into an answering smile, and tension drained from his shoulders.

  “But did it help her school behavior?” He sipped his coffee.

  Kyanna held the cup closer to her face and breathed in its fragrant steam. When she returned her gaze to his, a tendril of worry sidled along his spine.

  “I wish I could say all the church kids flocked around her in friendly hordes.” Her lips touched the cup’s edge. Roth licked his lips.

  Good Lord! What was he doing? He turned his gaze to the ebony liquid before him.

  “I mentioned Arthur Marones, right? I wish she would avoid him.”

  Roth stiffened. He wanted his little girl avoiding all boys, but if the principal was warning him about someone, that guy especially…

  “All the bad apples cling to him like ticks on a dog.”

  Roth’s lips twitched at the Southern idiom spoken in her sweet West Coast accent.

  “There have been incidents of graffiti vandalism around town, and the art teacher and I are certain Marones’ group is behind them. No proof other than the flamboyant art painting their school binders and the bragging in the halls.”

  At the word graffiti, Roth ground his teeth. It was the same thing Ariel had gotten in trouble for the week prior. He didn’t want to discourage her artistic pursuits, but he’d always claimed he wouldn’t bail his kid out of jail. Was that where this association was headed?

  Kyanna patted his hand. Tingles and a wave of heat paddled up his arm, but he didn’t pull away.

  “She even left school with him today.”

  Roth jerked back, slapped by the words.

  “What? When?”

  Kyanna’s eyebrows shot up and she sat back in her own chair, leaving several feet of empty space between them.

  “After school.”

  “She’s supposed to ride the bus. She doesn’t have my permission to ride with some boy I haven’t met.” He doubted he would be okay with her in a car with a boy he had met.

  Kyanna shook her head and leaned forward to pat his hand again. The touch soothed his prickly nerves.

  What if something happened to Ariel?

  He pulled out his phone and tapped his middle fingertip on her n
umber. It rang four times before she answered.

  “Take out, Dad? How about pizza?”

  Air whooshed from his lungs, and his shoulders slumped.

  “Where are you?”

  “Home. Where else would I be?”

  He opened his mouth to lambaste her about accepting a ride with a boy. Closed it. She would wonder where he’d learned the information, and he didn’t want her to think the principal was spying for him.

  “I’ll be a little late. So I’ll grab pizza.”

  “Jake’s? It’s better than anything in Sweet Grove.”

  Meaning Fred’s Pizza on Pine Street. That was the only pizza place in the peaceful hamlet where his daughter was supposed to be able to fit in with nice kids. Not find a gang.

  He sighed. “Sure. Get your homework done.”

  “On it.”

  The call ended. He stared at the phone, trying to slow his racing heart and calm his churning stomach.

  “I didn’t mean to tattle.” Kyanna’s voice was sultry and soft, its volume nearly overwhelmed by the clink of dishes and hum of voices around them.

  “No. I’m glad you told me. I don’t know what I’ll do about it.” He stroked his chin and raised his gaze to meet hers. “I’d rather not be in the dark about something like this.”

  Kyanna pursed her lips and swallowed more coffee. She stared at the table and drummed her manicured fingernails for an instant before curling them into her palm.

  “And she was wearing a thin camisole on her way out of school.”

  Roth clenched the cup. The paper gave way, spilling a flood of hot liquid onto his hand. He flinched.

  Kyanna leapt to her feet and snagged a few abandoned napkins from a nearby table.

  He sopped up the liquid.

  “Is your hand okay? Did you burn yourself?”

  Roth stared at his red knuckles. He didn’t feel any heat, but the boiling stew in his stomach drew most of his focus.

  “It’s fine.” He pushed away from the table and stuffed the soggy napkins into his cup. “I’d better get back to work.”

  Kyanna’s eyes apologized as she collected her phone and stuffed it into a handbag.

  “I hope you’ll let her attend the youth group campfire this weekend. Maybe a less formal setting will encourage friendships.”

  Roth blinked, trying to wrap his mind around permitting Ariel out of his sight ever again. But he had to. He worked, and she went to school. Somehow, he’d have to find a way to trust her.

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t ground her from church activities.”

  “Thanks for having coffee with me.” She picked up her half empty cup.

  Side by side, they strode back into the main hospital. He stopped by the elevator. She waved as she headed down the hallway toward the parking garage.

  So much for getting to know Kyanna Patchett. All they’d done was talk about Ariel. How could he protect his daughter when she seemed bent on defying him?

  9

  Kyanna squinted at the sign, easing her foot off the accelerator. The entrance to the recreation area was a quarter-mile past the turnoff for the Cider Mill. She’d heard the mill’s owner made the best apple turnovers in America, but she still hadn’t visited. Who wanted to tour something alone?

  Shaking off the pitying thought, she leaned closer to the windshield and turned onto the gravel drive. Even in the gathering darkness, the enormous church bus made it simple to find the youth group. She swung her SUV into a space across from the bus. Tabitha assured her that other adults, mostly parents, would be at the campfire, but a lump hardened in her gut anyway.

  Kyanna didn’t wear jeans often, but the ones she had on were soft with age and hugged her curves. She shrugged into the University of Washington Mom sweatshirt and locked her car, pocketing the key.

  Laughter wafted through the air. A gray plume of smoke beckoned. Tables in a covered area had marshmallow and hot dog roasting supplies. Several lanterns illumined them, and a single wall separated the food from the bonfire.

  Benches carved from logs circled the fire pit. They rose in amphitheater-like seating on three sides. Several dozen kids milled about, devouring hot dogs or sitting near the fire. The scent of burned meat and grease tickled her nostrils.

  A tall thin twenty-something woman approached her and extended her hand.

  “Elise Nelson, youth pastor.”

  Kyanna shook the proffered hand, noting the calloused palms and firm grip.

  “Kyanna Patchett, principal at Sweet Grove High.”

  Elise’s smile changed her face from plain to pretty.

  “Checking out the hooligans in their natural setting, huh?” Her grin took the sting out of the name-calling.

  “I like to socialize with students in neutral locales.”

  “That’s great. The former principal took his business and worship out of town, wanted to keep it separate from school.”

  Kyanna nodded. She’d worked with two administrators like that in Olympia. Both drove from Tacoma rather than run into students or parents while shopping.

  “Grab a hot dog if you want. We’ll start singing once everyone has them in hand.” Another young woman sidled up to Elise, touching her elbow. “S’mores around 8:30.”

  The two women circled to the far side of the fire, heads together. Kyanna glanced around, recognizing several students. A figure to the right moved and firelight flickered on the bearded face. Roth Stryker.

  Her heart dropped into her stomach. She scanned the crowd, but didn’t see Ariel until the girl stood up from squatting beside the fire, a roasting stick held awkwardly away from her. Bella Gardner, a freshman, stood beside Ariel, and the two of them wove through the sea of bodies toward the condiment tables.

  Kyanna shifted into a back row, but the girls passed beside her.

  “Hi, Miss Patchett,” Bella said, her voice bubbly.

  “Bella. Ariel.” She nodded to them.

  Ariel blinked once, then turned her back. “I’m starving.”

  Bella led her away.

  Kyanna sighed. She hadn’t expected the troubled girl to smile and act like they were pals. Ariel could blame Kyanna for any tension with her father. Teens often meted responsibility to others rather than owning mistakes.

  Soon, a boy with a guitar took position beside the fire and started strumming. Kyanna recognized him but had trouble coming up with a name. He hadn’t visited her office, for sure.

  Traditional campfire songs dissolved into silliness, and finally, more religious tunes. Kyanna swayed to the music, transported back to her many summers of church camp. Her busy surgeon mother and often-absent pilot father sent her to numerous camps each summer. It was her grandparents who made sure she attended camp with the youth group from their church.

  Kyanna loved summer camp, but she’d found a special peace and acceptance at church camp. The summer she was eleven, she’d prayed with her twenty-something cabin counselor and accepted Jesus as savior. Since then, she’d enjoyed attending church at times, but found herself more comfortable sitting in a quiet place reading the Bible and talking to the Son of God.

  She’d tried to convince her husband and son of the importance of having a real relationship with Jesus. Adam viewed church as a place to network for his business, and Derek treated it as somewhere to go if he wasn’t busy. Her son claimed he had accepted Jesus at church camp when he was ten, but Kyanna didn’t see much of a change in his attitude toward attending church or seeking spiritual things.

  That’s between him and God. The thought echoed through her mind in her grandmother’s voice. Sweet Nana. She still missed her, even though she’d been gone nearly two decades.

  Laughing teens swarmed toward the food behind her, stirring Kyanna from her recollections. It must be time for s’mores. She stood, brushing off the seat of her jeans and stomping her feet to get the blood moving.

  “Well, Miss Patchett.” The smooth male voice made her name sound pretty.

  Kyanna faced Roth Stryker
, who stood a couple steps away, hands buried in the front pocket of an Oklahoma Sooner sweatshirt. Shadows played across his features, leaving his smile unconcealed.

  Her stomach tightened. Had it always felt so strange addressing a father outside of school strictures? “I saw Ariel,” she said. “She seems to be fitting in.”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “There was a bit of a tantrum when I insisted on driving her and staying.”

  Kyanna nodded. “The bus is more fun. At least you didn’t make her sit by you at the fire.”

  Roth cocked his head. Heat flooded from her chest upward. Did he think she’d been checking him out and that’s how she knew Ariel didn’t sit with him?

  He cleared his throat. “That would have been a deal breaker.” His tone rasped, but with his eyes in shadows, Kyanna couldn’t decide what it meant. “Ready to roast marshmallows?”

  Kyanna despised marshmallows—unless they were melted against chocolate and pressed between graham crackers.

  “Actually, I was getting ready to head home.”

  His smile faltered. “Well, I’ll walk you as far as the food tables.”

  Kyanna led the way out. Most kids had filed back and circled the fire like flies on a carcass. Their laughter crackled along with the flames.

  In the covered picnic area, Ariel stood talking to the boy who’d been playing the guitar. Bella Gardner waffled from foot to foot beside them.

  The name clicked into place: Brock Gardner. He was a senior, big in the choir and band scene. Ariel batted her eyes and edged closer. Obviously, she had her sights on the older boy.

  Beside her, Roth grunted. He glowered at the couple, less enthused about their interaction than Kyanna.

  “He’s a vast improvement over Arthur Marones.”

  Roth glanced down at her, his brown eyes troubled.

  Kyanna squeezed his wrist. “Go easy, Papa Bear.”