He’d used the right word. Climb. A step stool would have helped, but he knew she’d take his head off if he mentioned it. Teasing her about her height brought interesting reactions.
He started to close the door when she threw him a meaningful look. It hit home. The other times she’d climbed into his truck, she’d done it without his help.
“I’m not always a bully.”
Her mouth stretched. “Glad to hear it.”
The faint scent of her perfume stroked him once more, and the light in her eyes almost stripped his control. He hesitated, feeling again the desire to wrap her in his arms. No. Later. He closed the door.
The deli contained fewer people than usual, and the noise level followed the numbers. Conversation would be easier, and that seemed important. Saturday’s ups and downs needed to be erased, and her trust in him re-established. Although the welcome in her eyes when she opened the door had told him a lot.
The waitress sat them in a back section at a small table. John ordered a Greek salad, Matzo Ball soup, and roast beef with Swiss on rye then listened with attention to Sharee’s order of comfort food—a Blue-Plate special of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, salad, and rolls. They both decided on the pumpkin cheesecake for dessert.
After the waitress left, he pointed to the basket on the table, offering her a second brown knot. Two had disappeared soon after the basket appeared.
“Your turn.” He indicated the soft roll.
As she reached for it, however, he caught her hand and turned it over, drawing his thumb across her palm. She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip. The color started on her neck, spreading upward; and he shook his head, giving her hand a squeeze and letting go.
“You blush easily.” He reached into the basket, took the brown knot, and handed it to her. “I’ll be good.” He forced his mind from the things he wanted to say and asked himself what would be important to her. “How’s work coming?”
She took a moment before she answered. “It’s coming. We’re busy.”
“Why?” When she said nothing, he added with a grin, “Not an idle question. I might want a second date.”
She looked down again but then back at him. “Some people don’t think the work I do—with the homeless—is important work.”
He’d been right about the defiance. “Why is that?”
“Because there’re so many differing opinions on the homeless. Why they’re homeless, and what to do about it. Everybody has an opinion, but not many people want to help.”
He nodded, taking the half roll she’d broken off and handed him.
“I just feel it’s what God has called me to right now. I don’t know all the why’s, and I don’t have all the answers for the people I see, but I have to do something.”
“So you said before. That’s your gift. Mercy.”
She looked startled. “Mercy?”
“Does that surprise you? Mercy is a wonderful gift—to receive or to give.”
“So many people think we should be tough. You know, tough love and all that.”
“They think that the homeless should help themselves, and you shouldn’t interfere?”
“Yeah, something like that. As I said, there are many differing opinions. You hear some of them louder and more often than others.”
“It shouldn’t matter, you know, what other people think. It only matters that you’re doing what you feel God told you to do.” He caught her look and sat back, giving a mocking smile. “That from me? Well, it’s true.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes then he leaned over. “Sharee, I think what you do with the homeless is wonderful. The fact that I did not want you picking up hitchhikers has nothing to do with helping people. There just must be some other way.”
She said nothing.
“You think that I don’t care about others?”
She bit her lip. “You were so impatient that day. About Pedro. It surprised me when I heard you’d asked him to stay at your place. And you do have a work ethic.”
“A work ethic?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. Never thought about it.”
“I believe in work, too. It’s not that at all. It’s that I also believe in helping others. A lot of people don’t think the two are compatible.”
The waitress came and set down their plates, bringing more sweet tea and water, asking if they needed anything else.
“No. Thank you.” John surveyed Sharee’s plate with a smile. “So, the last two days have been hard?”
“Yes, they have.”
He hesitated a minute. “You say a blessing when you’re out?”
“It’s okay. I say my own silently.”
He watched her bow her head. Had she prayed last time? If so, he hadn’t noticed.
In a few seconds, she raised her head. “I included you. By the way, how’s Pedro doing?” Without waiting for a reply, she lifted her fork. “I don’t do this all the time, you know. Usually, I’m a pretty healthy eater, but today….”
He stopped in the middle of picking up his sandwich and sat back. His glance went over her food again. “Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, fried chicken, apple pie, and what else?”
“For comfort food? Oh, I would include spaghetti and meatballs, too. Strawberry shortcake, homemade biscuits.” She tilted her head, and he felt her scrutiny. “How’s Pedro?”
“You want to finish eating first?”
She put down her fork and shook her head. He’d seen the questioning look. He wasn’t going to be able to get around it.
“I had hoped by this weekend to have something better to say.”
“So tell me.”
“He never came home last Saturday. He went to George’s to eat, and then he asked George to take him to see some friends. He wanted to tell them…how he saved you, how he caught you. George thought that was okay, but we haven’t seen him since. It’s why I didn’t call yesterday. We went looking for him, went to the friend’s home.” He stopped, watching her, wondering how she would take it.
“John.” Her face and tone changed. She straightened. “I do this for a living, remember? Have been doing it for years. I know Pedro—even if you think I don’t. I know the problems he deals with—mostly. Is he drinking again?”
Revelation hit him. Her tone and demeanor showed a professionalism that echoed even in the way she held herself. And she didn’t seem as surprised or devastated as he’d expected.
“Yes. According to his friends, he was so proud of himself that he had to have a drink. And that led to others. They haven’t seen him since.”
“He’s on the street somewhere.”
He saw her concern; and she bowed her head, offering a short, soft prayer for him.
Her eyes came back to his. “You gave him a place to stay and helped him look for a permanent job. That’s much more than most people do.”
“I don’t think I could have done anything else after you blasted me.” His smile took the sting out of the words. “I guess I’m not used to thinking of myself as uncaring or having others think it or say it so bluntly. A lot has changed in three years…since Janice died.”
“John, I’m sorry about the things I said. I lost my temper.”
“I guess I needed it.” A regretful smile. “About Pedro. I really began to like him. I must say, I don’t understand. Things were going well for him. He’d cleaned himself up, had gone out a number of times to look for a job. He had food when he came home.”
“It’s not your fault, you know. You did the best thing for him—food, a place to stay and a chance to get clean. It’s up to him to do the rest. I believe in mercy. I just said that. I also know a time comes when it’s up to them or, in this case, him. We can’t make Pedro’s decisions for him or for any of the others. We can point the way, encourage them, give them all the tools they need to make the right choices; but they have to do it themselves—and continue to do it. Just as we do. Pedro did it for a
week or so. Maybe next time, he’ll do it longer.”
He shifted back in the chair. She did know what she was doing. The girl’s life radiated contradictions—professionalism in her work, strength in her faith, and both those intertwined with a personal vulnerability that left him wanting to protect her.
He let the smile move to his eyes. “Eat your comfort food before I get up and come over there and kiss you. In front of everyone.”
“Don’t you dare.” Sharee dropped her eyes from his and snatched up her fork.
Later, he took her hand as they left the building. The temperature outside had dropped. Thanksgiving and Christmas advertisements winked at them.
His reaction to her differed in many ways to those he’d had with Janice. Janice’s physical height and strength along with her outgoing, Type A personality had allowed him to watch—with love and amusement—from the sidelines as she made her way through life. When she stumbled in her relationships (and that often happened with her take charge character), she’d bring her confusion and hurt to him; and he’d give her any wisdom he had then point her back to Christ. They’d had a good marriage. He’d never needed or wanted a subservient wife.
But something had changed when Janice died. Her death, along with the feeling of helplessness that engulfed him, had destroyed his attitude of invulnerability. Life had a different feel to it now. He admired Sharee’s faith, had admired it, he realized, for some time. He respected the strength it gave her. But the protectiveness that rose in him, that need to shield and guard, those were new attitudes to him. And her crazy lifestyle and seeming carelessness about her own safety didn’t help.
He offered his hand as she stepped up into the truck. “Next week’s Thanksgiving. You’re going home?”
“Yes. For the week.”
“The week?” Surprise. He backed the truck out and slid a glance her way.
“Yes. What about you?”
“I’ll go Thanksgiving Day. Maybe stay overnight.” A moment later, he added, “For the first time in three years. I just couldn’t do Thanksgiving when Janice died. I made Christmas, but juggling between two families and trying to cope with the loss… Well, some things were easier being away.”
“They’ll be glad, then, that you’re making it this year?”
“Neither of my parents is real big on the holidays, but yes, I think they will.”
“John?”
“Yes?”
“If some tragedy happened in my life, my parents would be the first people I would run to. I certainly would be with them through the holidays.”
“I understand. You’re close.” The sounds of the highway filled the truck. “We were, too, growing up. After Alexis and I went to college, things seemed to fall apart. Dad had an affair. The divorce came soon after. And the remarriage a couple years after that.” He leaned forward to turn on the heater. “Not something I ever want to go through again or put my children through—no matter what their age.”
Sharee inclined her head, and they rode in silence for a while.
“You do the whole Thanksgiving thing?” he asked.
“Turkey and dressing and lots of family? Yes. And a game of tag football afterward. What about you?”
“Different. We’ll go out to eat unless one of my mother’s sisters decides to do the traditional thing. We’ll go over to her house if so.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m the black sheep in the family. I like tradition. My parents always liked doing something different—some kind of wilderness trip that we’d all take. Alexis is the same these days.”
“Oh.”
“Do you need a whole week to celebrate Thanksgiving?”
“I guess not, but I always go home. Why?”
“‘Why,’ the girl asks.”
“Yes.”
He looked at the light ahead. It had just turned red. “You want to know why?” He brought the truck to a sliding stop, pulled her to him and found her mouth.
He meant it to be a quick kiss, but her response brought another one from him. When a horn sounded, Sharee jumped and pulled free. He feather-touched her cheek, put the truck in drive, and went through the now-green light. A car sped past them with another honk.
John glanced her way. She looked flushed in the passing streetlights. His whole body had moved into overdrive. Go easy.
He touched her hand. “As crazy as this relationship has been, I still thought you might miss me.”
“I might. Unless you embarrass me to death first.”
He chuckled. “I’ll behave.”
As they pulled into her complex, the truck’s lights swept past the apartment doors, and John stopped a few spaces down from her apartment. He reached over the back of the seat, plucked something from behind it, and dropped it into her lap.
She looked down. “Peppermints?”
“I needed something at the store and saw them. The soft kind. You seem to like them.”
“I do. Thank you.” She unwrapped one and offered it to him. He shook his head, and she put it into her mouth.
“I thought of a different way of tasting them.” He couldn’t help the grin.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“That’s a hundred dollar word.”
“I’m sure you think you’re worth it.” Her voice held laughter.
“Does that mean you’re not asking me in?”
“Yes. No, I mean. No, I’m not asking you in.”
Long breath. “Well, no surprise there. Just my luck I picked a committed Christian. However…” His eyes dropped to her mouth, and he bent his head toward hers.
“John.” She flattened her hands against his chest and pushed him away. Her face had changed.
He stared. “What? What did I say?”
“I’m serious. I…you need to know before this goes any further. If you’re asking what I think, well, I’m not inviting you…or anyone else in…until I’m married.”
He heard the difference in her voice and sat back. Had he really asked that? He’d just promised to behave. Five years of marriage and three of self-imposed exile, no wonder he’d forgotten how to act. Dating was different.
“Sharee, I’m teasing you.”
He felt her examination. The look in her eyes was uncertain. “Were you?”
“Yes. I understand what you’re saying, and I expected that answer. It doesn’t change anything. I’m not running off.”
“Really?” She swallowed the rest of the peppermint, her eyes intent on his.
“Really.”
For a lot of men, he knew, it would change everything. If they came back at all, it would be to test her resolve; and from the look on her face, she’d met some those.
“Really,” he repeated, thinking about the seventeen-year-old boy whose sister was raped. Before that, he’d decided that he would not graduate high school a virgin. He’d started a quest to find the right girl. But all his determination disintegrated with Alexis’ rape. His salvation soon after, and his youth pastor’s teaching on purity left an enduring impression. He understood Sharee’s stance. He had married as a virgin himself, enduring teasing and harassment from his friends for a number of years before that. However, it had made the wedding night and honeymoon a thrilling extravaganza. He had brought no remorse, no guilt, no other faces or bodies into their lovemaking.
At length, she relaxed and settled back. “Okay.” Her eyes narrowed at something over his shoulder. “What’s on my door?”
“Your door?” He switched on the truck’s lights.
Sharee sucked in her breath, and John shot his head around. A second later, he shoved the truck door open and leaped to the pavement. Sharee scrambled after him. He grabbed the object from her door and yanked it free. Something metallic hit the pavement.
The doll’s head fell away from a red, gaping throat, and its black, gouged eyes stared up at them.
Chapter 24
“I don’t know, but I’d sure like to find out.” He felt heat rising inside him. “And why you? Are you sure the other one—in the nursery—wasn’t meant for you?”
“No, how could that be? No one but Marci knew I would be there.”
“Marci and the children and Stephen. Anyone else?”
“No one. Marci’s family all had the flu, but none of them would do this.”
“They could have mentioned it to someone.” To anyone. Friends at school. Other church members. Why was she a target now?
“Should we call Deputy Richards?”
“Probably.”
“John, why were you keeping them?”
“The dolls?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure. I thought if something were to happen…”
“Please, no.”
“I know. We’ll hope it doesn’t. I’ll call Deputy Richards on the way home. There’s nothing else we can do.” He glanced at the sidewalk then leaned to pick a shiny object from the concrete. He turned it over. “A magnetic hook. Look, open up, and let me check out your apartment.”
“Why?”
“Just being careful.”
“You think someone’s inside? How would they get in?”
“I’m being overcautious, but it would make me feel better.”
“It’s just a prank. No one’s done anything but leave the dolls.”
“And the notes. Humor me.”
She put the key in the door. He slipped inside while she watched from the doorway. Her apartment was modest. The inspection took only a few minutes.
“It’s fine.” He wished he’d thought of a way to check her apartment without alarming her. “Okay. Lock the door, and don’t let anyone in that you don’t kno—” he cut off the last word.
A mosquito buzzed past, and she eased the door closed. “It’s someone we do know, isn’t it?”
“Well, use that common sense you brag about and be careful.” The doll being left on her door didn’t sit well with him. It didn’t follow the pattern of the others. Had she annoyed whoever was doing this? Was it a warning?
Amber Alert: Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 1) Page 19
