Love Inspired May 2015 #2

by Missy Tippens

  “I don’t want to go, either,” Ari said. “Crystal doesn’t like us and Daddy smells funny like he has bad breath.”

  “I said I’d talk to your dad.” Old memories and fears made her voice sharper than she mean it to be. “We’ll work something out.”

  None of them said anything for the rest of the drive. She’d always honored their visitation agreement, which gave Matt the right to have the kids every other weekend. She’d generously given that right to the Nortons on many of the weekends in the past when Matt hadn’t wanted them. She could honor the letter of the agreement, but she couldn’t force the kids to want to spend time with their father. With the Sheriff pressuring her about her vote on Jared’s racing school and his keeping tabs on her, now wasn’t the time to tell Brendon and Ari they didn’t have to go to their father’s if they didn’t want to. That would give Matt and the Nortons a legitimate reason to take her to Family Court, not that she didn’t have one.

  Talking to her ex-in-laws about Matt’s drinking and her concern for the kids wasn’t a real option, despite Debbie’s possible realization that Matt had a problem. She’d tried before, and the Sheriff had dismissed her concerns, saying it was part of Matt’s job to socialize. Becca wasn’t at all sure Debbie would go against her husband, even for the kids. The one person she would talk with was her attorney to see if she had any recourse other than the one Becca wanted to spare the kids—Family Court.

  She turned in to the church parking lot. It would help her if she could talk with someone who knew where she was coming from. Becca ran through her options. Her pastor was out. Although Connor had a firsthand understanding, he’d been one of her history students. It would be weird. The only other person she knew who would understand her fears and what the kids might be feeling was Jared. And she was trying her best not to let their relationship cross the line from casual friends to close personal friends.

  * * *

  Once the other day-care teachers began arriving, Becca left the parent greeting to them and went back to the office to try to catch Matt on the phone before he left for work.

  “Hello,” Crystal answered in a jovial tone.

  “Hi. It’s Becca. Is Matt there?”

  “No.” Crystal dropped the cheerfulness. “He’s at the office.”

  For a moment, Becca considered bypassing Matt altogether and telling Crystal that the kids couldn’t come this weekend, like he and the Sheriff tried to sidestep her by calling Brendon. No, that would be sinking to their level.

  “Thanks, I’ll call him there.” She hung up and punched in the other phone number.

  “Good morning, Matt Norton.”

  “Matt, we need to talk about the kids’ visit next weekend. They won’t be able to come. Brendon’s best friend is having a birthday party campout on Saturday.”

  “Mom and Dad are bringing the kids again?”

  He didn’t even remember calling Brendon. Becca grit her teeth. “You left a drunken message on Brendon’s phone that seemed to say that.”

  “Don’t start,” he warned.

  “Or what? You’ll take me to Family Court for full custody?” Becca let her anger get the best of her.

  Matt backed off. “This weekend is bad for us, too. And Crystal’s complaining that it seems like Mom and Dad are bringing them down here every weekend.”

  Every other weekend, as our custody agreement stipulates. “Good,” she said. “I’ll tell Brendon that he can go to the party. I’ve already talked with him about your drinking and not riding with you when you’re drunk.”

  “You what?”

  “I talked with him about your drinking, and I’m going to talk with Ari. I won’t have you putting them in danger.

  “Come on.”

  Becca cut him short. “We’re done. Goodbye.” She hung up before he could go into one of his tirades and closed her eyes until she’d stopped shaking.

  “Hey.” Jared’s voice startled her. “I’m here to register Hope for day care. Karen said to come back and that she’d keep Hope with her class until I finished.”

  “Come in. I’m glad you and your brothers decided to sign her up.”

  He placed a manila folder on her desk and pulled a chair over. “We figure we can use all of the help we can get. Gram has been great. Hope’s used to having a grandmother mother figure. But I’m out of my element.” He dropped his gaze. “You know my dad wasn’t much of a father. Much of a man, really. I want to do what’s right for Hope.”

  Becca got up and closed the door for privacy. Any teachers or kids passing by in the hall didn’t need to hear their conversation. She’d do the same for any parent enrolling his or her child.

  “Thanks,” he said as she sat back down.

  She reassured him. “You probably know more about parenting than you think. You used to take care of your brothers for your mother.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, Mom needed the help.”

  “And you gave it to her. They’ve both grown into decent Christian men.”

  “I’m not sure what part I had in that. I left home when Josh was fourteen and Connor was eleven, and Dad was getting worse. I wasn’t there for them or Mom when they needed me.”

  “You were eighteen, no older than the kids in my senior classes. You wanted to get on with your life.”

  His voice dropped. “That’s why I came back. For them, and to help other kids here like us, like Hope, and parents like Mom who need support with their kids. The only way I know to help is motocross racing. It’s what I know. It’s what helped me.”

  Becca’s heart filled with warmth that he was letting her see inside him. She suspected it wasn’t something he did often or lightly.

  He stopped. “Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry for sharing with me.”

  “No, about bringing up my project after Tom’s talk with us the other night. I don’t want to put you in a touchy position.”

  “Telling me what’s behind your wanting to build your track here won’t cause a conflict of interest. In fact, it may help me clarify things and, when the time comes, make the best decision for everyone.”

  “But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to register Hope.” His crooked smile spoke his embarrassment at making Becca privy to his private feelings.

  “Move your chair around next to me, and I’ll go over your application and our basic rules and objectives here at the center.”

  Although her invitation had been no different than she would have given any parent registering a child, the office walls seemed to close in once Jared had moved his chair. Becca blocked out the faint scent of his woodsy aftershave and concentrated on reviewing the papers he’d brought and answering his questions.

  “That should do it.” She placed his application and the other documentation the center needed in a pile on her desk and closed his folder. “Any other questions?”

  She looked up to see him staring at her intently.

  “No, I’m good. Thanks. For everything. Your and the VBS volunteers’ acceptance of Hope means so much to me—and Connor and Josh.” He leaned toward her.

  Her thoughts flitted to how he’d comforted her after dinner at her house, how she felt in his arms. She let his gaze draw her in and stilled as he lowered his head. So much for keeping her distance. He was going to kiss her. And against her better judgment, she was going to let him. She met his lips and he brushed them across hers. Calm rained over her, silencing the kernel of doubt that had started to say good girls don’t.

  A sharp rap on the office door jerked them apart.

  “Becca.” Leanne opened the door and glanced from her to Jared. “I didn’t know you had someone with you.”

  “Jared’s registering Hope for day care.” And pulling the foundation of my carefully controlled life out from under me. “We just finis
hed.”

  Leanne continued to look at Jared. Did she suspect something? No, that was silly. What could she suspect? Becca always closed the door for parent interviews.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “We’re short on juice for snack. I wanted to get the debit card to run up to the store for some.”

  Becca unlocked the top drawer of the desk, retrieved the card and handed it to Leanne.

  “Thanks,” Leanne said and left.

  Jared lifted the folder from the desk. “One more thing.”

  Becca’s heart constricted. He wasn’t going to apologize for the kiss, say it was a mistake. She wouldn’t let him. She could have stopped him. If she’d wanted to.

  “I don’t think I have Hope’s booster seat fastened in my truck correctly. I was reading that seventy-five percent of kids’ car seats are installed wrong or are the wrong size for the kid. I figured car seats would be something you’d know about.”

  A laugh of relief bubbled out. Leave it to a man to look up and quote statistics. “Car seats are something I know about. The beginning of the summer, we had one of the sheriff deputies come and do an on-site inspection for any of our parents who wanted one.”

  “Great. Can you check Hope’s? I’ll go get her.”

  They walked to Karen Hill’s classroom and Hope ran to the doorway to meet them.

  “Are you done already? Mrs. Hill was going to read a story. Then we’re going to draw pictures about the story and have juice and granola bars.”

  “I am done, pumpkin,” Jared said. “You can come back tomorrow and stay all afternoon.”

  Hope’s face crumpled, then brightened. “If you let me stay, I’ll do whatever Mrs. Hill says.”

  Becca’s throat ached. Exactly like Ari—and me—always wanting to do things right. No wonder Hope and Ari had become fast friends. Hope had had so much upheaval in her young life. Becca could understand her uncertainty and wanting to please others. But Ari had had a lot of constants in her life—her, the Nortons, Becca’s parents and her brother and his family, even though they didn’t live close by. A lot of constants until this summer, when all of a sudden Matt had decided he wanted his visitation time.

  Becca stood on her toes to speak into Jared’s ear so only he could hear, his clean masculine scent making her nearness to him feel more intimate than it was. “Since we have all of Hope’s paperwork it would be all right for her to stay the rest of the day. I know Karen won’t mind.”

  His warm smile of appreciation washed away most of her earlier insecurity about Ari and herself.

  “Okay,” he said. “You can stay. I’ll pick you up at four o’clock. If you want to come home before then, ask Mrs. Hill to call me.”

  Hope flung herself at Jared and wrapped her arms around his legs. “I love you, Jared.”

  He went perfectly still and the love on his face for the little girl melted Becca to the core. Jared Donnelly had so many facets. He wasn’t an easy man to know.

  He lifted Hope and hugged her back. “I love you, too. Remember, Mrs. Hill will call if you need me.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Karen said. “Won’t we, Hope?”

  “Yep,” the little girl answered.

  Becca touched his arm. “This is a good time for us to slip out before Hope has a chance to change her mind.”

  “Maybe I should stay with her.”

  “No.” She grabbed his arm and guided him out of the room toward the outside door. “Trust me.”

  His faced tensed in a tight smile.

  “I know what I’m doing.” Or at least she did concerning Hope.

  As they walked to his truck, they passed a car Becca didn’t recognize that had a bumper sticker with the awful X-ed out picture of Jared on his bike that she’d seen on the signs the protesters outside the town hall had carried. From the way Jared accelerated his pace, she knew he had, too.

  He jerked open the back door of his truck and Becca recoiled, her stomach churning from the smell of stale beer that hit her.

  “Awful, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” she squeaked out, not sure she wanted to hear what he might say next as an excuse. She’d heard them all.

  “Connor borrowed my truck to pick up a furniture donation for the fall fair. While he was at the donor’s house, he talked him into donating a stash of returnable bottles the man had out in his garage along with the furniture. Connor had to put them in the backseat because the back of the truck was full of furniture. Some of the bottles weren’t empty. I’ve tried everything Gram has suggested to get the smell out of the rug.”

  Now that was one excuse she hadn’t heard. She wanted to trust him, believe he wasn’t like Matt, wasn’t like his father. But after the strain of this morning, all she could think was I have to give Jared extra credit for creativity.

  * * *

  “It’s kind of like washing Dad away,” Josh said Saturday evening when he and Jared went out to check on the success of the industrial-strength cleaner Josh had brought over to get the beer smell out of Jared’s truck.

  Jared hated to feed his brother’s bitterness, but he could relate. Every time he’d opened the truck door, the smell had reminded him of their father. It was good to have it finally gone.

  “Jared, Josh.” Connor came of the house, letting the door slam behind him. “I need one of you to help me.”

  “Do what?” Josh asked first.

  “Sandy Schuyler called and asked me if I’d help her track down her son, Toby. He came home last night half-drunk, and she took the keys to his pickup away, along with the fake ID she found in his jeans pocket when she threw them in the washer before work. He found them while she was at work today and took off. She called one of his friends from school, and he said he might be playing pool with some older guys Sandy doesn’t like. The friend gave her the name of a couple bars they might be at. Not places she’d want to go by herself.”

  “I’ll come,” Jared said. He had a hard time picturing the demure widowed town librarian trolling bars to find her teenage son.

  “And I’ll stay with Hope.” Josh’s voice had a tone of relief Jared couldn’t quite figure.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Jared said.

  When their brother was in the house, Connor said, “After you left, once Josh could drive, Mom used to ask him to find Dad, bring him home,” Connor said. “He hated it.”

  As if I didn’t. Jared felt a twinge of guilt that that job had fallen to Josh when he’d left. Josh seemed to have taken their father’s actions and abandonment the hardest of the three of them.

  “Where are we headed?” he asked as he opened the door to his truck.

  “Sandy said The Road House is the most likely place.”

  Bile filled Jared’s throat. “One of dear old Dad’s favorite haunts.”

  He ignored Connor’s sidewise glance.

  “That’s Toby’s father’s truck,” Connor said as they neared The Road House.

  Jared had a fleeting thought that they should have taken Connor’s car. He didn’t need someone seeing his truck here and reporting it to the Sheriff and Becca.

  He made a sharp turn into the parking lot, parked and they went in.

  “Toby,” Connor said when they spotted him at the pool table.

  The teen raised his cue. “Pas...” He glanced at the guys with him. “Connor, Jared.”

  They crossed the bar in a few strides.

  Toby leaned the cue against the wall. “Ya know, Jared Donnelly, the motocross racer,” he slurred to his friends, waving his arms expansively.

  They nodded in Jared’s direction.

  “Come on, Toby,” Connor said. “Time to go.”

  “No,” he said with the petulance of a two-year-old. “I’m playing a game.”

  Connor touched Toby’s ar
m and repeated, “Time to go.”

  Jared saw the teen start his swing at Connor before Connor did and nudged his brother out of the way, raising his forearm to deflect Toby. Too late. The wild roundhouse hit Jared square in the left eye. The guys with Toby snickered, and Jared had to draw on the strength of his faith to stop himself from turning on them.

  Toby lost his balance, crashed into some chairs and wiped out a table full of bottles and glasses. Jared blinked his already-swelling eye and caught Connor grabbing Toby from behind as the sound of a police siren filled the bar.

  Great! Someone must have called the sheriff’s department. He winced, not entirely from pain. Forget someone seeing his truck in The Road House parking lot. It probably would be all around town that he’d been in a bar fight, and he’d have one beauty of a black eye to back up the gossip.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What happened to you?” Brendon intercepted Jared when he brought Hope to The Kids’ Place the following Monday afternoon.

  Jared gripped Hope’s hand.

  “He got a black eye helping Connor get a bad boy for his mommy,” she answered for him.

  Brendon bounced on his toes. “Then, what Grandpa said is true. You and Pastor Connor got in a bar fight. Cool!”

  Leave it to the Paradox Lake grapevine. He should have gone to church services yesterday rather than thinking he could avoid causing gossip by keeping himself and his black eye at home.

  “Brendon Michael,” Becca said. “That is not cool. Go help Ms. Leanne take down the lunch tables.”

  No, a bar fight wasn’t cool, but Becca’s voice was. Beyond cool. Downright icy.

  “Jared, can we talk in my office after you sign Hope in with Karen?”

  “Sure.” He walked Hope to her classroom and back to the Fellowship Hall feeling all the dread of a man facing death row. She couldn’t hold his action against him or his racing-school project once she heard what really happened. Could she? He walked into the office, and Becca closed the door behind him.

  She stood behind the desk. “Tell me it isn’t true.”

  “It isn’t true.”