The little pipsqueak! She’d done it again. She’d wheedled him into a situation without even lifting a finger. But Tucker was adamant. He would not take on the care and leadership of these boys. They were juvenile delinquents, for heaven’s sake!
He’d have to be firm, say no and stick to it. Of course, it was a good idea, one the boys would probably benefit from. But Tucker Townsend wasn’t her man. Uh-uh.
The door opened two seconds after they set foot on Brown property.
“Oh. Hello, Tucker. I see you made it, after all. Come in, boys. I’m nearly finished packing the basket.”
She had the nerve to wink at him!
Tucker searched for his resolve.
“Now, Tuck, if you’d just put these blueberry pies in the back of Dad’s van, we can load up.” She handed him two pans with tea towels covering them, her smile sickeningly sweet. “Careful. They’re still warm from the oven.”
Tucker didn’t need to look underneath the towels. He could visualize perfectly—dark blue juice from fat berries, sweet and sticky, oozing out between flaky golden crusts. His nose twitched. Cinnamon—just a hint. His favorite spice.
“I baked some rolls this morning.”
Tucker squeezed his eyes closed and wished he could staple his ears closed, too. She was doing this deliberately. That made him think. On second thought, he’d better keep his eyes and ears open for her next trick.
“Paul, you take the rolls. Nick, potato salad. Ira and John, the fishing rods are by the garage, if you could get them for me. Great. Kent, these are the dishes we’ll need.” She smiled. “There. I think that’s it.”
“Not quite.” Tucker stood where he was, balancing the pies.
“Not—” She opened her eyes very wide, staring at him.
“Chicken.”
“Oh, Tom’s already got that,” she said, laughing at him. “I’ll just grab a blanket.”
It was only when she skipped up the stairs that Tucker noticed Ginny had changed into jeans and a denim shirt. On anyone else, they would have looked shabby, worn. But the almost white denim clung to her long legs, accentuating their shape as if they’d been tailor-made. The shirt hid her curves, but not too much. She was gorgeous, as usual.
As she walked down the stairs, Tucker breathed a sigh of relief that the sandals were gone. Otherwise she’d break her neck. In their place she wore tattered sneakers with no heels at all.
“What about your father?”
“Mrs. Franks is treating Dad and the Armstrongs to roast beef. You know him and red meat.” She flipped her glossy curls and tied a red scarf around them to hold the bulk of her hair off her face. “I’m ready.”
“Go ahead, guys. We’ll be there in a minute.” Better to speak the truth now, get things clear. Tucker waited until the boys were out the front door. Then he faced her head-on.
“I’m not forming a boy’s group, Ginny. I agree these kids are troubled. Yes, they do need help. But I am in no position to do them any good.”
There. Let her deal with that.
She stood silent, watching him for a long time. Then she turned and walked to the front door.
“Okay.” She shoved her keys into her pocket, her eyes steady. “Shall we go?”
Tucker went. She wouldn’t give up that easily. Not Ginny. She never had. In fact, he’d been surprised she hadn’t pushed harder when he’d tried to wiggle out of that promise he’d made to marry her.
It could be her pride, he supposed. All those years hanging around, waiting for a guy who never called. Maybe she really had given up on him. That hurt. Ginny Brown personified trust. If someone said they’d do something, she never doubted it. Others might scoff. Not her. She believed in people. Had she lost faith in him?
The idea bothered him no end. Tucker fastened his seat belt and slammed the door shut, his mind busy with that question.
As he sat in the passenger seat of her father’s van, watching the countryside whisk past, Tucker asked himself why. What changed her mind about him? Was it the time, the reports she’d seen? Or did she not want a relationship with a man who’d killed his best friend?
“Tucker? Are you coming?”
He blinked and discovered he was the only one sitting in the van. Tucker opened his door and climbed out, trying to quash the thought that wouldn’t be silenced.
Had he disappointed Ginny? He watched her organize the boys with her usual efficiency. Had he lost her trust? Pain shafted him. He hated that thought. Ginny’s trust was the one thing he’d counted on.
“Come on, Tuck. Dinner’s ready.” She grasped his hand and tugged.
He followed like a robot, present yet somehow distanced from the laughter and the fun. He’d done it a thousand times at work—been there without really being there. Acting a part. He accepted a plate, chewed, swallowed, but tasted nothing.
No, he finally decided. Ginny was the same rock she’d always been. Nothing had changed. Her eyes still crinkled at the corners. Her mouth still flicked that quick little smile of reassurance. Ginny was still Ginny.
But the closer he looked, the more Tucker saw. Shadows clung to the green irises, never disappearing completely, even when she doubled over in laughter. Now, when no one was watching, her smile slipped away. A whisper of sadness flickered across her face. It was like the sun slipping behind a cloud. The joy was gone.
When she looked directly at him, Tucker saw the sun again. But he also caught a glimpse of something else and almost gagged at the truth. Ginny Brown struggled to retain that brash self-assurance when she was around him. Wary, careful, she suddenly seemed unsure of how he’d react.
“So do you want to, or not?”
Tucker time-warped back to their grassy knoll and focused on the question. “Want to what?”
Tom glanced at Paul, who glanced at Nick. Around the group, eyebrows were raised in tandem. Sighs of disgust were huffed out.
“Fish,” they chorused in unison.
“Yeah. Maybe. After I have some pie.”
Tom made a face.
“What?”
“Some pie? You’ve had two pieces already. Me and the guys were counting on sharing the last one.”
“Okay.” Tucker nodded. Greedy thugs! As if he’d eat two pieces of Ginny’s pie and not remember. “I might fish after I’ve had a few minutes to digest my meal. You guys go ahead. Show us what you can do.”
“He’s gonna need more than a few minutes to digest all that.”
Tucker couldn’t tell exactly where the comment came from, but he figured it didn’t much matter. The six of them apparently felt he’d consumed more than his fair share of Ginny’s meal. After one community look, they raced to the van, grabbed rods and minnows like vultures descending on breakfast, arguing all the while. Soon they were lined up on the shore, reels whirring as they cast their lines.
“I brought a thermos of coffee, if you’d like some.” Ginny held up a silver flask from among the objects she was repacking into the wicker basket.
Tucker stared. How did you go about asking the woman you’d promised to marry if she was upset because you’d broken your promise?
“Is something wrong?” She frowned at him, that little flick of hesitancy evident in the way she twiddled one lock of hair. “Tucker?”
“Wrong? No. I was just thinking.” Good fake. Now what? “I think a cup of coffee would be great. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She poured, then handed it over. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“Have I? Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s just that I wondered if you were angry at me. I don’t mean to push you about the boys, but really, Tucker, I think you and they would benefit from the time together. You’ve already formed a bond with Tom.”
“I have?” Not. “What kind of bond could we have formed? I don’t even know his last name. Does he have a last name?”
“Of course he has a last name.” She didn’t smile. “It’s Standish. Tom Standish.”
“Oh.�
��
“He’s talked to you more in the past week than anyone else in the entire time he’s been in town.”
“That’s good. I guess.” He sipped the coffee. “This coffee’s delicious.”
“Oh, stop it!” She surged to her feet, hair flying madly across her face as her scarf fluttered to the ground.
Tucker swallowed, unable to tear his eyes away from her. Red spots of color dotted her cheeks. She was beautiful. She was also furious.
“Stop what, Ginny?” Like you don’t know. It isn’t going to work, hotshot. She can see right through you.
“Stop pretending. If you don’t want to have anything to do with these kids, if you truly can’t see how much they need you, then just say so.”
Tucker sat where he was. He felt—embarrassed.
“What goes around comes around, Tucker. You want me to help you, but you don’t want to help anyone else. Are you really so self-centered?” She flopped down and swatted the hair from her burning cheeks. “Have you changed that much?”
“Yes,” he muttered, hating to say it as much as she obviously hated hearing it.
“Fine. Then I’ll get someone else to help me. Marty is concerned. He’ll find time for them.” She twisted so her back was to him.
“Marty’s almost a senior. What’s he going to say to Tom that he doesn’t already say at home?” Shut up, Townsend. It’s nothing to you. Butt out.
“I don’t know, Tucker. Marty’s very busy, and it will only get worse when his staff starts summer vacation, but at least he is willing.”
The arrow-straight line of her back told Tucker exactly what she thought of him in that department.
He groaned. Tucker didn’t want to have this conversation, didn’t want to get mixed up in anyone else’s life. But most of all he didn’t want Ginny to hate him.
He reached out and touched her hand. When she didn’t jerk away, he threaded his fingers in hers and spoke.
“Look, Gin, I’d help them if I could. But I haven’t got anything to give them. I’m empty, a shell. I don’t know which end is up myself.”
“Then maybe they could help you.” She tossed him an arch look.
“Probably so.” Might as well admit the truth, he decided.
She watched the boys for a long time, her soft hand still where it lay cradled in his. Finally she turned to face him.
Tucker blinked, surprised by tears on her cheeks.
“What’s wrong with you, Tuck? What happened to make you so cavalier about another human being?”
“You know—”
“No, I don’t know. I don’t understand you at all. Those kids are on a spiral downhill.” Her breath hiccuped as she gathered momentum. “They’ve done some stupid things, probably to get attention. But they’re getting the wrong kind of attention. They need to know somebody cares about them, that somebody expects something from them. They need to feel part of something other than the bad boys of Jubilee Junction.”
“I can’t be what they need, Gin.”
She stared at him. “You already are.”
She got up, walked to the water and inspected the rods, her soft voice offering a comment here, a compliment there. Tucker watched, his mind tossing around her words. It was as if a battle raged in his mind.
Sooner or later I’ll have to leave.
You’re here now.
I have no clue how to relate to them.
Remember? Remember your own past?
Adrian Brown. That was his past. His own father had been too tied up in making a buck to spend any time teaching his son about life. Anything Tucker had learned, he’d been taught by Adrian Brown—at first because he’d peeked through the hedge and spied on him, but later because he’d been invited over for a man’s time.
How Ginny had scoffed at that. But how warm, loved and valued Tucker had felt when her father had chosen to take him camping in the mountains. Just the two of them, out in the wilds.
When his father had laughed at his dreams and wouldn’t help with the forms for college, Adrian Brown had spent hours helping Tucker fill in every detail.
What goes around comes around, Tucker.
“You’re telling me it’s payback time?” He was addressing God out loud. “What if I mess up?”
“What if you do nothing?” Ginny stood behind him, her hands on her hips. “You’ll never know what you can do until you try, Tucker.”
She’d been through the wringer. He heard it in the words, saw it in the way she ducked her head away from his eyes. And that was his fault.
That’s when Tucker admitted that Ginny had won. Again. It had only been a matter of time, anyway. He glared at her.
“You should come with a warning label. Small but explosive. Always succeeds.”
“Tucker!” She grinned, her joy contagious. “You’ll do it? Really?”
“On one condition—that you help.” He glared at her. “I have no idea what we’ll do with them. I’m only here for a little while. I can’t see that it will matter much.”
“It will matter.”
He got up and stretched, accepting that from here on in, his life was going to bedlam.
“Thank you, Tucker. Thank you so much.”
She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him so hard, he lost his breath. Or maybe that was because it had been so long since he’d held her, shared her confidence and joy in a future that no longer loomed dark with worry. It was as if one slim ray of brilliant white light pierced the stone around his heart and touched his soul.
For a while Tucker could keep himself busy with these boys. After that—heaven knew.
“You’re welcome. I hope.”
His arms crept around her waist, up her back, tangled in that mane of almost-black hair as he relished the warmth she brought into his life. He’d been in the desert for so long, starving, parched. Ginny was his oasis. Maybe it was wrong to lean on her, ask her to give when he’d let her down so badly. But Tucker wasn’t sorry.
Not one bit.
“You won’t regret it, Tuck. I know you won’t.”
After a few moments, too soon for his liking, she wiggled free, eyes dancing with jade shards of joy.
“Can I tell them?”
“No!” He glared at her, fear surging at the thought of actually doing this. “I haven’t any clue how this club is going to work. I should read up on it or something before we do anything. Establish some rules.”
“Why don’t you let them decide how it’s going to work? Get them to set the rules for belonging. Then they’ll be wary about breaking them. Oh, this is great!” She whirled in pure pleasure, but her sneaker didn’t follow the correct path, and she ended up tumbling onto the grass.
“This is why ballet was a wash.” He plunked down beside her, affectionately patting her shoulder. “Though the tutus were kind of cute.”
“Go ahead, Tucker. Call me a klutz.” She rapped him on the shoulder.
“You’re a klutz.” For the first time that day Tucker saw the shadows leave her eyes. He lifted one hand to touch her cheek. “A very pretty klutz, though.”
“Huh! That doesn’t make your words any nicer.” She brushed his hand away, then hugged her knees to her chest. “I just know this is the start of something really good. God has a plan for those boys. And you’re part of it.”
That scared him. “I wish you wouldn’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a washup, Gin. I’ve messed up. What if I do it again?” He couldn’t lie, pretend it wouldn’t happen. It would. He knew it.
“What if you succeed beyond your wildest dreams? What if Tucker Townsend’s boy’s group grows to become a worldwide phenomenon?”
He groaned, rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “You’re not helping.”
“All right. How about this? The first thing you need is a place to meet. I suggest a clubhouse.”
“Good. A clubhouse.” He fastened on that. “Where are we going to get one?”
“In our backya
rd.” She grinned, obviously pleased with herself. “We’ve got that empty lot beside the river. There are tons of trees. Why don’t you build a tree house?”
The words were too innocent. Suddenly Tucker figured it out. Ginny had never really accepted his no. She was so certain of him she’d planned well ahead. She probably had a detailed list somewhere.
“Ginny?” He had to stop her, make her think. You can’t talk her out of it, you know that. She’s determined. She’s got everything planned. She’s probably even talked it over with her father. “What will your dad say?”
“He’ll tell us to go ahead. It’s time it was used,” she parroted, then smirked, tongue firmly in cheek.
“Aha.” What was the point of arguing with a juggernaut? Go with the flow, Townsend. She’s got the faith. You can ride on her coattails. “And the lumber for this clubhouse? I suppose you know where to find that?”
She tapped one finger on her chin, eyes brooding as they met his.
“I admit, that did give me a little pause.”
“Really?” He wanted to crow with laughter. Maybe a minute’s pause—certainly no longer. Not when Ginny trusted God.
“Yes. But when I was praying last night, I suddenly remembered that the church had been given some wood for the renovations on the Sunday school rooms. Apparently not all of it has been used.” She fidgeted, thrust her legs out then pulled them back. “Well?”
“Well, I suppose we should go take a look at it. If all else fails, we could cut down some of those trees and use that.”
“Tucker!”
Tucker laughed, deep, stomach-clenching laughs that rolled out of him when he saw the chagrin on her face.
“You wouldn’t dare cut down my maples!”
“Well, we will need wood for a tree house for this club that you want.” Truth to tell, he was enjoying the idea now that he’d gotten used to it. Maybe for a while he could let the world go and be a boy again.
“But I planted those when I was ten. It was my science project. Don’t you remember?”
She looked so forlorn, Tucker relented, but not completely.
“As if I could forget. You nearly cut my leg off wielding that spade around. As it was I took twelve stitches for those trees.” He winced at the memory.
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