by JoAnn Durgin
“I-I’d l-l-like that.” Those three words, combined with Sheila’s sweet smile, gave him renewed hope.
“Dean,” Sheila said once they were settled at the table with their meals and drinks. “I-I’m s-s-sorry. I-I’m s-s-sorry t-t-to k-keep r-r-run-ning a-a-w-w-ay f-f-from y-y-ou. Y-y-ou’re o-o-only b-b-being n-nice.”
Dean’s pulse skipped a couple of beats. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“I-I-I kn-know. I-I-I’ve p-p-put u-up b-b-bar-riers f-f-for t-t-too l-long.”
“Does that mean I can ask you to spend some time with me and you won’t run away?” Dean held his breath, wondering if he should have phrased that thought in a different way. He’d drive himself crazy if he second guessed everything that came out of his mouth.
“Y-y-yes.”
He slowly released a breath. So far, so good. Might as well keep going. Here goes nothing.
“Did you hear what Sam said about being on our own on Sunday?” Dean kept his voice purposely low, not sure he wanted the teenagers to overhear. If he got shot down again, he didn’t particularly want witnesses to his humiliation.
Sheila nodded but glanced across the table at Angelina and Felipe. The kids were behaving themselves and she visibly relaxed. That was a good sign. She always seemed tied up in knots when those two teenagers spent time together, which seemed to be most of the time. Other than physically separating them, or sticking close by them—or sitting on them—what more could he do? Trying to keep Felipe away from Angelina would do a lot of damage to his already precarious relationship with his charge. From all accounts, and from what he’d personally witnessed, they were getting along well and Felipe treated Angelina with respect. Sam told him he thought they were good for each other.
A sudden case of nerves overtook him, but Dean pushed forward. “If you really want to go to the hot air balloon race or on the tram, I’ll understand. Both of those things sound like a lot of fun.” He was sabotaging this before he’d even stated his case.
Focus on the positive.
“W-w-what d-do y-you h-h-have in m-m-mind?” Sheila smiled and her dark eyes sparkled. Selecting a slice of bread, she offered the basket to him. Dean shook his head and handed it across the table to Felipe. That kid loved his bread.
Sheila’s enthusiastic response spurred him on. “I want to cook you dinner and invite you to be my guest here in the dining hall on Sunday evening. Hopefully everyone else will want to scatter to the winds so it’ll only be the two of us.” He couldn’t believe he’d confessed such a thing to her. “Only if you want. We could tell Sam…” Seeing her coy grin, he hesitated. “Did I say something wrong? What are you thinking?”
“G-go o-on.”
Looking into her eyes, Dean’s breath caught. Sitting this close to her, Sheila’s eyes were the loveliest shade of brown he’d ever seen. Rich, expressive, passionate. Okay, maybe that last one was more his wishful thinking.
“I’ll put candles on the table if it doesn’t violate the fire code, I’ll find a tablecloth, and I insist on doing all the cooking. We can even dress up in our Sunday best, if you’d like.” He stopped, hoping he hadn’t already pushed her too far. When he heard her soft laughter, he paused. “I’m doing a lousy job of convincing you, aren’t I?”
“W-w-who s-s-said I-I n-n-need c-c-con-vincing?” Sheila’s eyes held a smile when she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. “I-I th-think w-w-we sh-sh-should vol-volunt-teer t-to s-s-stay h-here on S-Sun-d-day.”
~~♥~~
“Sam?”
“Come in, Winnie. I’m back in the office.” Although it was nice to be needed, his time to catch up on paperwork was often interrupted. His crew always seemed to know his schedule and when he was in the office. At the moment, it was between dinner and the devotional time at the prayer circle. If one of his volunteers needed him, for any reason, they were his top priority.
Appearing in the doorway, Winnie gave him a coy smile. He recognized that smile. He was in for trouble. Lexa’s best friend, the Mother Hen of the TeamWork crew, had hatched a new plan of some kind, most likely.
“What’s on your mind? Have a seat if you’d like.”
“I won’t be long. I need to get back over to the dining hall before your wife thinks I’ve deserted her. Have you thought about what you’ll be doing for the talent show?”
“Nope. Not a thing, especially considering Josh’s announcement at dinner was the first I’ve heard of it.”
“You don’t mind, do you? I guess we should have cleared it with you first. I’m sorry.”
“Not a problem,” he said. “It’ll be fun. I figured I’d just sing with one of the kids or dance a jig.”
“I have an idea I think is pretty great. Bear with me and hear me out before you say no.”
Sam laughed and sat back in his chair. “Do I have a choice?”
“Not really. Hold on.” Winnie darted around the corner and, when she reappeared, she held something white in her hands. Looked like a one-piece jumpsuit. Satin. With sparkly things all over it.
He almost choked as she unfolded it and held it up for him to see. “Tell me you aren’t serious.”
“I said to hear me out.” One hand slid to her waist. “As long as I’ve known you, Sam, you’ve always been a fair man. If you sing one of Elvis’s love songs to Lexa, she’ll swoon and everyone else will love it! A man who humbles himself—”
“Sometimes proves himself the fool. You want me to be an Elvis impersonator.” It wasn’t a question. “What’s Josh doing?”
Winnie batted her baby blues at him. “He’s the emcee, master of ceremonies—whatever he’s calling it—why?” Something lit in her eyes that gave him hope.
“Make you a deal. I’ll wear the getup and croon like The King if Josh wears something equally ridiculous. It’s only fair, right? And make sure Marc’s outfitted in something interesting, too. Tights would be especially good.”
Tilting her head, Winnie appeared to be considering the option. “In order to get you to agree, I was thinking more along the lines of talking Lexa into wearing a cheerleading outfit. Don’t men always like that?”
Sam grunted. “Give me some ideas for Josh.”
Winnie broke out into a wide grin. “Trust me, I’ve got something for him, too. He just doesn’t know it yet. You know my husband. Josh will play it up to the hilt. And so will you. And Marc? Goes without saying. Don’t you worry. I’ll take special care of him, too.”
“Did you bring that costume with you from Houston? Have you been planning this all along?”
“Of course not, but I think it’s inspired. We found a thrift shop near the fabric store in town. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Being early October, they’d just put out a rack of costumes, and we had our pick of the best. Cheap prices, too.”
“Glad to know you were frugal in your misguidedness.” Sam chuckled. “I’m fine with it, Winnie. Lexa wasn’t a party to”—Sam waved his hand at the costume—“this? It’ll be a surprise?”
She laughed. “Lexa went to the hair salon with Cassie, Angie, and Felipe. Trust me, she has no idea. I smuggled everything back to the car without her seeing anything, and I swore everyone else to secrecy. Part of the fun will be seeing the look on Lexa’s face once she gets a glimpse of you in this jumpsuit. Like I said, she’ll be swooning once you start singing. Not to mention how surprised everyone else will be.”
“Don’t remind me. I’m sure they’ll never look at me in quite the same way again.”
“No, they won’t.” When Sam gave her his most piercing look, Winnie smiled. “They’ll have even more respect for you than they already do.”
“If you say so. I wonder why Lexa didn’t get her hair cut for charity.” He was glad she hadn’t, but he would have supported her if she had. Not that he would have had a choice. He’d never seen his wife with hair shorter than the middle of her back.
“Um, maybe you should ask Lexa that question. Far be it from me to answer.” Winnie bright
ened again. “Hold on a second. I can’t believe I almost forgot to show you the best parts of the costume. I left them on the bed.”
“Parts, plural? There’s more?” Sam almost groaned. If nothing else, Winnie was always creative.
After darting around the corner, she came back into the office and stepped close to his desk with a yellow plastic bag in her hands. Reaching inside it, she pulled out…fake hair. Sideburns. Followed by dark sunglasses.
“There’d better not be fake chest hair in there,” he warned.
“Don’t be silly.” She stuffed something back down inside the bag. “Guess we don’t need that.”
“I’m not shaking my hips or anything else, either. Only Lexa’s privy to that. Just so we’re clear.”
One of Winnie’s trademark giggles slipped out. “Whatever you say. You don’t even have to try and imitate Elvis. You can sing in your own wonderful voice. But you might want to say one of his signature lines in a deep voice. Think about it.”
This time Sam did groan, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good to protest. He’d already agreed to play along with Winnie’s plan. Scheme was more like it. “I suppose if I’m really doing this, I need to complete the whole persona that was Elvis, huh?”
“And that’s why I love you. Thank you, Sam. Much obliged. Really. Truly.”
Before he could respond, Winnie departed. She knew him well, all right. In spite of the teasing he knew he’d endure, he’d make it a memorable performance. Lexa would enjoy it, and so would the kids, even though they’d probably never heard of Elvis Presley.
The thought of the smiles on their faces was all the reason he needed to make a fool of himself. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.
Chapter 25
~~♥~~
Sam was glad to turn over the reins to one of his volunteers at the prayer circle every other night. Especially tonight. After the time of singing, Mitch started the devotional. Stifling a yawn, Sam curved his arm around Lexa and she leaned against him. She had to be as tired, if not more, than he was.
The City Council hearing downtown was tomorrow afternoon, and he wanted to be well-rested for whatever that might bring. He had no idea what to expect. It could either turn out to be a bureaucratic nightmare for the church or prove to be a classic case of much ado about nothing. In any case, his prayer was that—whatever happened—it wouldn’t impede the great progress they’d already made at the church. He’d hate to have come this far only to be stalled in their efforts. That seemed a far-fetched scenario. Most importantly, he didn’t want anything to prevent the One Nation Church from worshipping in their beautiful new sanctuary.
Mitch rose to his feet with his Bible. “Galatians 6, verses 7 through 10 are familiar to us. ‘Do not be deceived, God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, this he will also reap. For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life. So then, while we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, and especially to those who are of the household of faith.’”
When Mitch motioned to his wife, Cassie joined him as he addressed the group. “Sam and Lexa have encouraged us to share our news with the group. And no, like I said before, it’s not that.” He paused as laughter moved around the circle.
“The Lord expects our best in all we do,” Cassie said. “As most of you know, Lexa and Winnie graciously gifted me with a week-long course at The Institute of Culinary Arts in New York when Mitch and I were navigating our cross-country relationship. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that they wanted us to get together.” She paused while several laughed. “I’d originally planned on studying elementary education, but now my plans have changed.”
Mitch set his Bible on the bench and took Cassie’s hand. “We’re pleased to announce that Cassie will be continuing her education at The Institute of Culinary Arts.”
“And the best news? After my graduation, I’ll be heading up the New York branch of Doyle-Clarke Catering!” Cassie beamed and Sam’s heart swelled with pride for Lexa. She and Winnie had worked hard to establish and grow their business, and now the fruits of their labor were being reaped.
As the volunteers offered their congratulations, Dean walked around the circle and crouched behind Sam. “I’m sorry to bother you, especially during the prayer circle, but we might have a problem.”
Sam nodded. “We’re done. I’ll be right there.”
Lexa gestured for him to transfer Leah, currently asleep on his lap, to her and mouthed I’ll be praying.
“Eliot and Felipe are back at the men’s dorm,” Dean told him as they started in the direction of the camp. “Felipe opened his backpack after dinner and something fell out of it and onto the floor. Sam, it was a can of red spray paint.”
A chill ran through Sam, but he chased it away.
“Felipe swears he’s innocent and knows nothing about it.” The worry in Dean’s voice was painfully apparent. The poor guy felt responsible. While Sam understood, he couldn’t blame Dean for feeling that way.
“Eliot supports Felipe,” Dean said, “but I didn’t handle it so well and said some things I wish I hadn’t. Of course, that doesn’t help my relationship with Felipe. Since I’m the one who brought him here to the camp, I feel responsible. If you want us to leave, I can’t blame you, Sam. I sure don’t want any of the women thinking that Felipe will cause trouble for them.”
Sam shook his head. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m siding with Eliot on this one.”
Dean’s brows lifted. “You don’t think he did it?”
“No. Call it my gut instinct. I have no idea who did, but there’s got to be an explanation.”
“But he stole a car—”
“He’s starting to bond with some of our guys. He and Angelina are friends. In case you haven’t noticed, the kids all love him.” Sam’s voice was gruff but he couldn’t help it. That’s what exhaustion always did to him. “The thing that worries me is that someone got into our camp a second time, and now maybe even into the men’s dorm. How did that happen? When?”
“I have no idea.” Dean sounded equally frustrated.
“Let’s go talk with Felipe, but I need you to go easy on him.”
Dean grunted. “I thought that’s what I’d be saying to you, Sam.”
~~♥~~
“Gayle, I think Eliot’s from Great Britain or Europe. Or at least somewhere overseas.”
“This I have to hear.” Gayle’s knees bumped hers as she turned to face Marta on the bench. Everyone else was chatting as the prayer circle ended, and the kids were running around the circle, extinguishing the lit candles inside the luminarias. “Give me details.”
“It was only something little, but to me it might have been telltale,” Marta said. “He’s been asked to be a crew chaser at the Balloon Fiesta and invited me to go with him on Sunday. Which means we’ll miss the church service since we have to be out at the field before the crack of dawn.”
“Get there faster,” Gayle urged with a gentle smile. “I’m not talking about Sunday morning, although I’m sorry you’ll miss it. The part about Eliot.” She laughed under her breath.
“The friend who invited Eliot to be a chaser is a friend ‘from university,’ as he put it.” When Gayle’s passive expression clued her in that she found nothing odd in that statement, Marta pushed on. “You know how people from Great Britain and Europe use the word university without the word ‘the’ before it?”
“Yes, but are you sure he didn’t stick the word in there somewhere? Or maybe it was implied?”
“Let me think.” Marta rubbed her fingers in circles against her temples, rocking back and forth on the bench. She wondered why Eliot hadn’t made it to the prayer circle. Hopefully his absence meant nothing significant in terms of camp security. Dean had come only long enough to get Sam, and then the two men left together.
“I’m pretty sure he said, ‘My friend from university.’” She looked at G
ayle in triumph. When no response was forthcoming, she raised her hands. “If I said to you, ‘Oh, by the way, I got a call from Lydia, my friend from university,’ wouldn’t that sound a little odd?”
“Well,” Gayle said slowly, “I sort of see what you’re saying, but I’m not sure that I’d automatically assume he’s from Europe just because he forgot the word ‘the.’ The man has no clear accent. If he’s from outside the U.S., he does a great job disguising it. I’ve known plenty of people from foreign countries who’ve been in the States for years, but there’s always a trace of their original accent.”
Marta stared at her. “Who are you, Gayle Ferrari?” She shook her head. “What does it say about me that I know very little about my boyfriend—if that’s even what I should call him—and I don’t know much about one of my very best friends? That’s you, girlfriend, in case you’re wondering.” With a sigh, Marta rose from the bench. “I guess I’m grasping for something that’s not there.”
Gayle stood up beside her. “Honey, you know I’m as curious as you are, but don’t drive yourself crazy trying to figure out the man. Just try to enjoy his company.”
“He said a French word when he first arrived at the camp. That might be something.”
“What was the word?”
“Oui.”
Gayle covered her mouth. Now she was laughing at her?
“Okay, so that’s not exactly evidence,” Marta grumbled. “But the biggest clue? I overheard him on the phone at the church, and I could have sworn he was speaking in French. Fluent French this time.”
Gayle laughed. “You sound like you’re trying to piece together clues.”
“Because that is what I’m doing!” Marta could tell the others were waiting for them, so she started walking.
“I think you need to resolve yourself to the fact that if you’re in a relationship with Eliot, you need to be patient and accept whatever he’s willing to give. I guess the big question here is whether or not you can do that.”
