“I don’t need you to,” Nana said firmly. “Are you going to start supporting my charities, too? No, dear, that’s silly. I’m supporting that Victims Fund because I believe in it. And selling the dollhouse will take care of my bills. So you see, God always provides.”
Except this provision was taking away a staple from Sadie’s youth, and this hurt on a deeper level than she imagined possible.
“Nana, that dollhouse is a part of my childhood,” she pressed.
“Aren’t you going to ask me why the Victims Fund matters to me so much?” Nana asked, slowing her steps.
“I’d assumed it was because they did some presentation in church,” Sadie said feebly. Wasn’t that what usually happened? Someone put together an appeal that tugged at the heartstrings of the church members, and everyone opened their wallets. That was all fine and good for people who could afford to give, but it was an unneeded guilt trip for old women on fixed incomes.
“You should have seen the video they showed about the victims of crime,” Nana agreed. “It’s heartbreaking. We aren’t the only ones who suffer in this world, and we’ve got to do what we can. But it’s not just that, dear.” Nana sighed and was silent a few beats, and then she went on, “I felt helpless.”
“Helpless?” Sadie looked over at her grandmother, but Nana’s gaze was focused on the sidewalk ahead of her. Sadie felt rather helpless at the moment, too. “Did someone pressure you?”
“No, nothing like that,” her grandmother replied. “I’ve felt helpless for years. My little girl is addicted to drugs and there is nothing I can do about it.” Nana’s chin trembled. “That is the most powerless feeling there is.”
“It isn’t your fault,” Sadie said.
“Perhaps not. As a mother, I’ve questioned that over the years—if I went wrong, pushed her too hard, didn’t push hard enough. I did everything I knew how in raising Lori, but I went wrong, I suppose. And now that we know where she is, I still feel helpless.”
“I know, Nana,” Sadie said quietly. “I couldn’t help Mom, either. It isn’t for lack of trying.”
“But the thing is,” Nana said, “I worship the Good Shepherd, and dear, He is a very, very good shepherd. He knows what he’s doing, and He doesn’t lose His lambs. Once upon a time, your mother was a little girl with a bright smile and she gave her heart to Jesus. And I believe that counts for an awful lot, Sadie.”
A lot of good that did, Sadie thought bitterly. Her mother’s life hadn’t been an example of one well lived, as far as Sadie could see. She was an addict, she’d abandoned her only child and she now lived in squalor, waiting on her next fix.
“So I told the Lord that I’d leave my little girl in His capable hands,” Nana continued, and her voice caught. “I’ll trust the Shepherd to do what He does best, and go after her. While I wait on Him, I’ll help the people that I can help. Like the Victims Fund.”
“But the dollhouse,” Sadie sighed.
Nana reached over and took Sadie’s gloved hand in hers. “I know you love that dollhouse, but it’s all I have that’s worth anything right now, and it might be hard for you to understand, but I need to take care of my own debts, dear. I’m not your problem.”
“You aren’t a problem, Nana, but you aren’t on your own anymore, either,” Sadie said quietly. “But maybe you could give more of your time and less of your finances for a little while.”
“The check is written, dear,” her grandmother said firmly. “It’s already done.”
Nana’s check had been slipped through the opening of a locked box, which meant it was safe for the time being. But first thing in the morning, Sadie was going down to the police station and asking for that check to be returned, and she wouldn’t back down until Chance handed it over. Her grandmother didn’t need to part with everything she held dear to appease her own guilt.
* * *
Chance rubbed his hands over his face. He’d come into the office early Monday morning to get some work done, but his mind wasn’t on the piles of paperwork. He had been praying about Randy Ellison all weekend, but entangled with the present issue was the memory of Sadie’s adamant defense of a boy she used to know. Her opinion mattered more than she thought. But Sadie’s opinion wasn’t the only formative one in this town, and he couldn’t put the burden of a troubled teen onto Sadie’s shoulders, either. No matter what he seemed to put his mind to this morning, he kept coming full circle again to Sadie.
Chance’s office door stood ajar, and he heard the now familiar voice of his trainee saying hello to some officers as he ambled past. Good—he’d arrived. Chance had been waiting for him.
“Officer Gillespie!” he called.
The young officer returned and stood at attention in the doorway. His broad shoulders filled the space, and his expression looked like granite.
“Good morning, sir,” Toby said.
“Come on in,” Chance said, beckoning to the visitor’s chair. “At ease. Have a seat.”
Toby nodded and relaxed his stance, then slid into the chair Chance had indicated. “What can I do for you, sir?”
He still looked as impersonal as a tank, and Chance regarded the young officer for a moment while he considered.
“I have an idea,” Chance said at last. “And I think you’re the man for the job.”
“Alright, sir.”
“I want you to do a ride-along with Randy Ellison.”
Toby squinted slightly. “The kid I arrested?”
“That’s the one. He needs a goal, and I want to broaden his view a little bit.” Chance paused. “Besides, he seems to like to skip school. We might as well make that time productive, don’t you think?”
“I shouldn’t bring him back to school?” he clarified. “Truancy is against the law—”
“I’m well aware,” Chance said wryly. “But I want you to do this my way.”
“With all due respect, sir, I don’t think he likes me at this point.”
Chance shrugged. “Most people don’t like him at this point, either. I think we can work with that. Besides, I don’t think he needs a gentle touch, this kid. He doesn’t need long talks and sympathy, he needs a clear goal. I think this will work out well.”
“And you want me to...” Toby looked questioningly at Chance.
“Show him what being a cop would mean,” Chance said. “Show him what life would be like if he wore a uniform that demanded respect, and if he had a chance to make a real difference in people’s lives.”
“Doesn’t he have a brother-in-law on the force?” Toby asked.
“Officer Camden. Yes. But that’s family, and I’m not interested in fostering stronger family relationships—as positive as that may be. I want him to have an unbiased view that he can trust.”
“And you want me to do this...now?” Toby asked.
“Well, first of all, I need you to swing by his house and get his mother to sign the permission papers, and then...yes. You’ll see him around, I’m sure. Give him the option of a ride-along with you—in the front seat, of course—or being dropped off at the station to deal with me. I’m pretty sure he’ll choose you.”
Toby shrugged. “Yes, sir.”
Chance slid the permission form across his desk, and the young officer picked it up.
“And for the record,” Toby said, folding the page and tucking it in his front pocket, “you aren’t looking for sensitivity and all that?”
“I’m looking for honesty and respect,” Chance said. “We’ll give sensitivity a break. Besides, I heard from Shelby West, and she was impressed with your demeanor when you visited them. She says if you ever want a piece of pie and a coffee, just drop by.”
“Really?” Toby froze. “That’s a high honor.”
“It is.” A smile toyed at Chance’s lips. “So you have your orders for the day. I expect a full report.”
�
�Will do, sir.” Toby left the office, and Chance nodded to himself in satisfaction.
As long as Officer Gillespie wasn’t arresting Randy, Chance had a feeling the two of them would actually get along. Toby wasn’t the kind of man who could be manipulated by the kid, and Randy might actually respect a human tank, given the right circumstances. Randy and Toby could both get a win here.
His phone rang. It was Cheryl at the reception desk.
“Hi, Cheryl,” Chance said, picking up the receiver.
“Sadie Jenkins is here to see you, sir,” Cheryl said.
Sadie... He hadn’t been expecting her, but his heart did speed up a little at the mention of her name.
“Send her in,” he said.
Half a minute later, Sadie tapped at his door.
“Come on in,” Chance said, rising from his chair. She came inside, undoing the front buttons of her woolen coat, and he noted the red spots on her cheeks from the wind outside. Her fingers looked red from the cold, too, and he had to hold himself back from reaching out to warm them in his palm. His instincts were all wrong here. Instead he leaned back against his desk and gestured for her to have a seat.
“You look cold,” Chance said.
“I am.” She rubbed her hands together. “But, no offense, the coffee out there looks like sludge.”
Chance chuckled. “I have the good stuff here.” He tapped his thermos. “Care for a cup?”
“You’d share?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Grudgingly.” He grinned, then reached for a clean mug on top of his filing cabinet. He always kept two or three mugs there so that he wouldn’t run out. He poured them each a cup of coffee and watched as she took her first sip.
“Chance, this is amazing,” she said. “Thank you.”
He sipped his coffee as well, and they were silent for a couple of beats before she added, “You weren’t at church.”
“Yesterday, I had to come in to the office. There was a domestic abuse situation outside of town, and lawyers were called in, so I was here all morning sorting that out.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “That sounds important.”
“I take it you went,” he said. He’d been thinking about her all morning, wondering if she’d been in church. He’d wanted to sit next to her...even though that was probably a bad idea. He was supposed to be keeping his emotional distance, wasn’t he?
“I was there,” she replied. “They had a collection for the Crime Victims Fund.”
“It was successful this year,” Chance said with a nod. “That money will help a lot of people.”
“Yeah, well, my grandmother put in a check,” Sadie said, lifting her eyes to meet his. “And I need that check back.”
Chance frowned. He had a feeling Abigail wasn’t going to like that. “What’s going on?”
“She’s giving money she doesn’t have,” Sadie said, and he caught a tremor in her voice. She was upset.
“She’s never been the type to be forgetful,” Chance said. “How old is she now?”
“She’s seventy-nine,” Sadie said, “But it’s not about senility. I discovered a whole pile of unpaid bills. She’s been falling behind. I guess her pension isn’t cutting it. So she decided to sell the dollhouse, and she was going to use the money to pay off her debt and cover that check.”
“She can’t afford that, then,” Chance concluded.
“No.” Sadie dropped her gaze. “She can’t.”
“Look, don’t worry about it,” Chance said. “I’ll go find her check myself and remove it from the batch.”
“Thank you.” Sadie took another sip, and she looked like she was trying to pull her emotions back under control.
“Is Abigail going to be okay from now on?” Chance asked. “I mean, if her pension isn’t enough to pay her bills—”
“I’m going to take care of that,” Sadie said, batting a curl away from her eyes. “I’m back now, and I’ll be able to sort things out for her. It’s just...”
“You didn’t notice when she got old,” he finished for her.
“Yes.” Sadie lifted the mug to take another sip, but then lowered it before she did. “When did that happen?”
“I don’t know,” Chance said. “When did my mom get wrinkles? When did my dad turn into an old man?”
“I feel like I should have noticed,” Sadie said quietly. “I’d have... I don’t know. I’d have started helping her out sooner.”
“Would she have let you?” Chance asked, feeling mildly amused at the thought of anybody trying to mollycoddle Abigail. She wouldn’t take that.
“She’s trying to stop me from helping her now,” Sadie retorted. “But I’ve inherited the family stubborn streak, so she’s met her match.” Sadie put the coffee cup onto his desk. “I got a call this morning from Trina Scott.”
“About her wedding?” Chance asked.
Sadie nodded. “She said her dad was very pleased with my work so far, and she wanted to know my rates.”
“Nice. Sounds like you’ll get it, then.”
“It’s a good start, and not a moment too soon,” Sadie replied with a wry smile, but there was something in the way she held herself, just a fraction too straight.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Me?” She deflated a little, then shrugged. “I will be. Don’t worry about me, Chance.”
“I can’t help it.” There was more he longed to say, but he clamped his mouth shut.
“I’m exhausted,” she admitted. “But this job is almost done. The ceremony is Wednesday morning, and I’ve been burning the candle at both ends. I can’t afford to hire someone to help out just yet, so—”
“I’m here for you,” he said. “You know that.”
The look of relief that flooded her face shot him straight back to when she and Noah were planning their wedding. Chance had been the go-to guy for last-minute details, and when Sadie asked, he’d never been able to say no, even when it brought her closer to marrying another man.
“Would you help me to put up streamers and get the square decorated for the ceremony?” she asked. “I was going to get it all done tomorrow night so that it’s ready to go for morning. I have some volunteers coming the morning, but I need to get this out of the way tonight...”
“Sure, of course.” He nodded. “We’re working on this together. What time?”
“Say, seven?”
“I’ll be there.”
The truth was, he hadn’t been wanting to help with streamers. Whether it was smart or not, he’d been offering to be an emotional support. He should be grateful that she hadn’t caught on to the undertone there, and all she’d asked was a hand with putting up decorations. That was his obligation anyway.
This ceremony would be over soon, and they could slip back into their ordinary routines again. They’d see each other in passing—maybe at church—and he’d finally sort out these misplaced feelings for Sadie and put them away for good. He owed his brother that much.
Chapter Twelve
Comfort Creek’s town square wasn’t a square so much as a broad section at the end of Sycamore Street where they’d put up barricades to stop traffic, and then set up a portable stage and lines of benches. It was used for Christmas, Easter and the summer quilting prizes that were so coveted by the ladies in this town. Tonight, the stage was already set up in preparation for the ceremony the next day, a blue curtained backdrop ruffling in the frigid wind. The benches were still stacked to one side, and the church youth group had promised to help set them up first thing in the morning.
Sadie stood in the crisp snow, looking up at her handiwork so far. She’d attached the flag-style streamers along the front of the stage and at the top of the curtained backdrop, but she still needed to run them out to the lampposts on either side. With the golden glow of lamplight and the pristine white of newly fallen
snow, she could see the solemn dignity of tomorrow’s ceremony in her mind’s eye. She’d done it—found that balance that could make everyone happy. It was the bull’s-eye target for every event planner. Hopefully, the mayor would agree.
It’s going to be a beautiful ceremony, isn’t it, Lord? Please let it go smoothly. Protect my plans.
This ceremony was a job, but it was also a commemoration for the men who had given their lives. On a deeper level, it was a goodbye to Noah, too. She hadn’t been able to attend his funeral, and this was the laying to rest that she needed. She hadn’t done well by a good man, and she’d never had the chance to properly apologize for what she’d done. If he’d lived, she could have gone through the discomfort of watching him move on with a worthier woman than she was. But she didn’t get to see Noah move on, get married, have kids with someone else. She’d never have to make nice with the local woman who took her place. Instead, she had to face that emptiness that she’d caused, because there was no getting around facts—if she’d handled that differently, Noah might still be alive.
A car’s engine rumbled up behind and stopped at the barricade. Sadie turned to see Chance’s cruiser. He’d arrived as promised, and she waved as he got out of the car. His boots crunched in the snow as he headed over, and she tugged her scarf up a little farther to cover the chilled tip of her chin.
“Looks like it’s coming together,” Chance said as he reached her.
“Getting there,” she agreed. “Thanks for coming, Chance.”
Chance held up a thermos. “I come bearing coffee.”
“You’re a doll.” She grinned up at him. “We’re going to need that.”
“Let’s get to work.” Chance put the coffee on the edge of the stage, then rubbed his gloved hands together. “What’s first?”
They worked together for about an hour, stretching streamers and stapling them to poles, and she had to admit that it was more than help with the work that warmed her through. It was having Chance here with her like old times, the friend and ally who shared her jokes with that small, dry smile of his, and who had always had her back.
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