He curled his fingers around the price tag and yanked it off, then thrust his legs into the shorts. Just this one time, it would be all right to wear these.
Just this one time he could look like every other kid in town, even if everybody knew he wasn’t.
When he went into the living room, the others were all waiting. Grayson looked at him as if he wanted to say something about the clothes, but he didn’t. He just jangled his keys and said, “Let’s go.”
Caleb had seen Harry’s Diner plenty of times, but he’d never been inside. There’d never been enough money, not even when his dad was around. Not even when his mother was there. The shrink had lots of money. He didn’t work nearly as hard as Caleb’s dad did, but he got paid a whole lot more. It wasn’t fair.
But Caleb quit thinking life was fair a long time ago.
Everybody in the café said hello to the shrink. There was even a booth with a cup of coffee waiting for him. It wasn’t big enough for all five of them though, so he moved the coffee to a bigger one, a round one in the corner.
“Mornin’, J.D.” The waitress set down a stack of menus, pulled a pencil from her hair and a pad from her pocket, then smiled. “My, my, what a good-looking bunch you are. I’m Maeve, and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Reluctantly, Caleb shook hands with her and mumbled his name. The other kids did the same.
“Three handsome young men and the prettiest girl I’ve seen in a long time,” she said, still wearing that big smile. “J.D., you are a lucky man.”
Yeah, right, Caleb thought with a scowl.
“What can I get for you? Let’s start with you, Gracie.”
“Do you have pancakes?”
“Yes, ma’am, we do. The best pancakes in town.”
“I want free, please.” Gracie held up four fingers, and Caleb folded one down.
“It’s three, not free,” he corrected her in a hushed voice.
She gave him her stubborn look. “I like free. Free pancakes, please.”
Maeve turned her smile on him. “What about you, Caleb? What would you like?”
He’d told Grayson he wasn’t hungry, and he’d meant not to eat to prove it. But the smells coming from the kitchen were too good, and he wasn’t sure he could sit there and watch them eat without his mouth watering. But he also wasn’t sure he could back down in front of the shrink. If he ate now, Grayson would know he’d lied and he would get that look again.
“Well, honey?” the waitress asked.
Across the table, Grayson spoke. “Caleb isn’t sure he has an appetite this morning. Why don’t you see if Harry’s got anything back there to tempt him, Maeve?”
“I’ll bring you the special, Caleb,” she said with a grin and a wink. “It’ll put some meat on your bones for sure.”
Noah ordered pancakes and bacon, and Gracie asked for bacon too. Jacob ordered eggs and toast, and Gracie asked for toast too. When Grayson ordered the special with ham, she opened her mouth to call after the waitress, but he stopped her with a raised hand. “No, you cannot have ham too. If you eat everything you ordered, it’ll take all four of us to carry you out.”
“Gracie’s a little piggy,” Jacob teased, until Caleb poked him.
“I’m not a pig,” she argued. “What I don’t eat, I can take home for later. You know, for if we need it.”
Now it was her turn to get poked. The food in the closet was a secret, for emergencies. If Grayson knew, he’d take it all away and they wouldn’t have anythin’ when they needed it.
“You’re not going to need it, Gracie,” the shrink said. “No matter what happens, you’re always going to have enough food.”
She shook her head sadly. “We been hungry before.”
“But you won’t be again. I promise.”
Shaking her head again, she snuggled closer to Caleb. “Our daddy promised to come back and get us, but he didn’t. Caleb promised to take care of us and not let nobody find us, and we got finded. And our mama promised she would love us forever, but Noah and me, we don’t even remember what she looked like.”
Everyone who’d made her a promise had let her down, including Caleb. It made him feel empty inside. He’d done his best, but it wasn’t good enough. Like his dad’s best hadn’t been enough either.
Grayson signaled the waitress, who came over with her arms full of plates. “Maeve, would Harry let me run a tab here?”
“Well, we don’t normally do that, but …” She grinned. “Anything for you, Doc. You want this morning’s check put on a tab?”
“No, this one’s not for me. If any of the kids ever comes in here wanting a meal, give them whatever they want and put it on my tab.” He looked across the table. “Do you understand what that means, Gracie?”
She shook her head.
“It means that anytime you’re hungry, you can come here and Maeve will feed you.”
Her eyes opened wide. “For free?”
“For free.”
“For how long?”
“Forever. I promise.”
She fell for it. So did Noah, and maybe even Jacob. Caleb didn’t. He knew Grayson was a liar, knew it was just a trick. If any one of them came here asking for food after they’d moved out of his house, they might get it, ’cause Maeve seemed like a real nice woman, but the shrink wouldn’t be paying for it. Once they’d moved out of his house, he would forget that they’d ever existed, and he would forget about his promise.
And they would forget him too. Caleb swore they would.
Sunday morning’s church service was well under way when Kelsey slipped into the last pew. Attending church was no longer a routine part of her life, though it had been when she was growing up. Every Sunday she and Steph had shared a pew directly behind their parents. They’d gone to the same Sunday school class, had both sung alto in the choir, and had passed notes and played silent games during long, uninspired sermons.
Then Steph had died. Kelsey attended her funeral, but she hadn’t set foot inside a church for a regular service since. Yet here she was today, in panty hose and heels on a warm Sunday morning, and she wasn’t even sure why. She should be home cleaning the apartment or maybe taking a lovely drive through the countryside. She could be reading the book on her night table or window shopping at all those quaint little shops downtown. She belonged anywhere but here, doing anything but this.
Partway through the sermon she slipped out again. She hoped no one had seen her, but if someone had, she could always say she’d been paged. In her job that could—and did—happen at all hours of the day, and no one, with the possible exception of J.D., was likely to call her on it.
Lying about church. Kathleen Malone would be ashamed that the thought had even occurred to her daughter, and mortified that she might actually follow through. She’d raised Kelsey better than that, but while her faith had remained strong, Kelsey’s had waned. Of course, her mother hadn’t seen the things Kelsey had seen, hadn’t lived with the guilt that haunted her every day.
Please, God, make sure she never would.
She had cleared the heavy carved doors and was on her way down the steps, when a young woman greeted her. Her face was vaguely familiar, although no name came to mind. Then Kelsey remembered where they’d met—at the hospital her first day on the job. The woman was the younger of the two volunteers she’d spoken with, the one with the straight hair that made her own curls look more disorderly than ever. Instead of her volunteer’s lavender lab coat, today she wore a sleeveless dress in vibrant red, and her hair was done up in a soft style that exposed her neck.
“Sometimes the Reverend Howard does go on,” the woman said, “but he usually doesn’t send the parishioners flying from the church. You must be in a hurry to get where you’re going. And where would that be on a beautiful day like today?”
Kelsey opened her mouth, but the lie wouldn’t come. Maybe Kathleen had raised her even better than she’d realized. Sighing, she shook her head. “Nowhere.”
“Ah. So m
aybe you weren’t in a hurry to get somewhere—rather, in a hurry to leave somewhere.” She smiled warmly. “You’re the new social worker. Kelsey, isn’t it?”
Kelsey nodded.
“How do you like Bethlehem? It’s a wonderful place, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. I’m going to be very happy here.”
“Going to be? So you’re not now?”
“I’m perfectly happy.” Most of the time.
“You’re meeting people? Making friends?”
“Yes. Everyone’s been very nice.”
“I’m sure they have. Bethlehem’s a community in the true sense of the word. They believe in sharing the Christmas spirit year-round.”
The woman sat down on a concrete bench and patted it in invitation. Kelsey wanted to say No, thanks, I’m in a hurry, remember? But somehow that seemed rude. Though was it any ruder than a stranger demanding her time? her devil asked. Still, she didn’t want to be rude on the church steps on a Sunday morning. With a glance at her watch she sank onto the sun-warmed bench. She could spare a few minutes and still be on the other side of town when the church service ended.
“Are you a regular here?” she asked, wondering why the woman wasn’t inside with the faithful.
“Oh, I can be found here virtually anytime,” the woman said with a laugh. “Whether the doors are open or not. I understand you come from New York City. Why such a big change?”
“I wanted to work someplace where I could really make a difference.”
“Don’t you think you were making a difference in the city? Surely there were people you helped, children you protected, lives you saved.”
Kelsey gazed up, her attention drawn to a stained glass window of Jesus with children drawn around. She had done some good in the city, but she’d had failures too. She’d been to too many trials, too many funerals. In a small town, she figured, she stood a better chance, with less bureaucracy, more caring neighbors, a community looking out for its own.
Without waiting for a response, the woman went on. “How are the Brown children?”
“As well as can be expected, under the circumstances. They’re in a good home.”
“Oh, the best. J.D. is exactly what they need. You couldn’t ask for a better father for those children.”
She’d done just that, Kelsey remembered. How odd that of the whole long list of preapproved foster parents, there’d been no one else to take the kids. Even in the city, with its much bigger problems, she’d never failed to find a temporary placement. “Everyone certainly sings his praises,” she remarked dryly.
The look the woman gave her was steady and one hundred percent assured, as if she knew these things for a carved-in-stone fact. “He’s a good man. Those children couldn’t find anyone better.” Then she smiled. “You won’t find anyone better.”
Ah, so she was another of Bethlehem’s unofficial matchmakers. Was there a single soul in town who didn’t see them as a perfect couple? Was there no one else who understood the concepts of impropriety or unprofessional behavior? Not that it really mattered. As long as she and J.D. understood and kept their distance.
Something easier said than done, she feared.
From the cupola above, the church bell tolled and the woman popped to her feet. “Ah, the service is over and the doors will be opening.” She smiled brightly as both heavy doors were pushed back and propped open. “It’s been a pleasure talking to you, Kelsey. If there’s ever anything you need from me, I’m always around. Just give me a call.”
Calculating her chances at getting away unnoticed now that the parishioners were spilling out, Kelsey needed a moment to process the last comment. “Give you a call? I don’t even know your—” Turning, she saw that she was talking to herself.
Ducking her head, she started for her car, parked in the shade of an old oak down the street. She wasn’t even halfway there, when just the voice she hadn’t wanted to hear spoke from a few feet behind.
“Well, well, I thought I felt the church walls tremble. I assumed it was just the aftershock from getting Caleb and Gracie through the doors earlier.”
Kelsey drew a deep breath, pasted on a smile, then turned and looked up. “I’m not such a sinner that God would be shocked to see me.”
“Just seriously surprised, huh?” J.D. stopped too, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.
She let her gaze slide over him, from head to toe and back again, making note of his fine creamy-hued suit, the blindingly white shirt, the richly patterned silk tie. “You told me you had one summer suit and one for winter. This is not the same summer suit you were wearing last Sunday. You lied.”
“I didn’t lie. I do have one summer and one winter suit. I also have other summer and winter suits.” He grinned. “I wasn’t aware you were so interested in my wardrobe. Let me ditch the kids for a while, and I’ll give you a tour of my closet.”
She resisted the smile that tugged at her lips. “I believe I’ll pass. Where are the kids?”
He gestured toward the crowd gathered in front of the church. “Jacob and Noah are talking to Josie Dalton. Caleb is ignoring Alanna Dalton, and Gracie is probably behind a bush somewhere stripping down to her skivvies.”
“And be naked?” She mimicked Gracie’s scandalized tone of Thursday night. “Surely not.”
“You haven’t seen her church dress. Picture the frilliest, fanciest dress ever seen outside a kiddie beauty pageant, complete with stockings and dress shoes. She wailed while Caleb was dressing her.”
Kelsey smiled. “Why didn’t you just let her wear one of her sundresses?”
“They’re dirty. Everything’s dirty except her old clothes.” The amusement faded from his voice. “Having new clothes all her own has been quite a novelty for her. She changes as much as three times a day.”
Just a few days earlier Kelsey had been envying Holly McBride’s clothes. While she couldn’t afford designer garments like that, at least she’d always had her own clothes. She found it difficult to imagine that Gracie could reach the age of five without ever having a single new garment bought specifically for her, though she knew that it happened all too often.
“You know, we normally give vouchers to cover the cost of new clothes,” she remarked.
He shrugged as if the money were of no consequence. For a hot-shot psychiatrist with no obligations besides himself, maybe it wasn’t. “Why did you come late and skip out early on the service? Did the reverend’s sermon hit too close to home?”
Frankly she couldn’t remember what the sermon was about. She’d been too lost in the past to listen. “I’m not much of a churchgoer,” she admitted.
“But you believe in God.”
“Most of the time.” As his look shifted from teasing to serious interest, she gestured impatiently. “I believe there’s a God who created the universe and everything in it and is watching over us all. I just don’t believe he pays very close attention sometimes.”
“Why? Because prayers go unanswered? Bad things happen?”
She gave a stubborn shake of her head, refusing to reply. As a rule, she didn’t discuss her faith with anyone, and she certainly wasn’t going to discuss it with J.D. in his hotshot-psychiatrist persona. “You’d better gather the children and go.”
“Come and have lunch with us.”
“No, thanks.”
“It’ll be the best lunch you’ve had since coming to Bethlehem.”
“Oh, so you’re going to the Winchesters’.”
“Yes, ma’am. They outdo themselves for Sunday dinner.” He caught her hand and tugged, but she didn’t move. “Come on, Kelsey. Don’t make me beg. It’s not a pretty sight.”
But it would definitely be an interesting one, she thought as she freed her hand. “Learn some manners, Dr. Grayson. When a woman says no, she means no. And when someone is kind enough to invite you and your four wards to dinner, you don’t drag along other guests.”
He turned away from her, but she didn’t think for an instant that he
was giving up. Instead, he scanned the crowd, then called in a voice guaranteed to draw everyone’s attention their way, “Miss Agatha! Do you care if Kelsey comes to dinner?”
“Why, of course not, J.D. You know better than that. Kelsey dear, we’d love to have you. I would have invited you myself if I’d known you were here.”
With a blush warming her face Kelsey closed her eyes for a moment and sarcastically muttered, “Thank you, J.D.” When she opened her eyes again, she found him staring at her. “What?” she asked grumpily.
“That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name.”
She opened her mouth to disagree, to point out that she’d been calling him that for days now, but it wasn’t exactly true. While in her thoughts he was J.D., in person she’d called him Dr. Grayson or nothing at all.
“You’re warming up to me, aren’t you? You must be, ’cause your little cheeks are turning pink.”
Kelsey rolled her eyes. “You are the most arrogant, smuggest, most frustrating person I’ve ever met.”
“Thanks,” he said solemnly. “I like you too.” He hooked his arm through hers and forced her to start walking with him. “Leave your car here and come to the Winchesters’ for dinner, and then we’ll stop by your apartment so you can change clothes and you can spend the afternoon out at the house with us.”
She gave in because it was easier than arguing. Because she had nothing planned for the rest of the day but a phone call to her mother after a solitary lunch. Because it was too lovely a day to spend alone.
Not because she really, truly wanted to go.
“I thought your truck seated only five.”
“Gracie’s already informed me that she’s riding with the Winchesters. They bought the hated dress, but I get the blame for making her wear it.”
“But my car … I shouldn’t just leave it on the street.”
He gave her an exaggeratedly patient look. “This is Bethlehem, Kelsey. On these streets you’re more likely to come back and find it washed and waxed than vandalized.”
Father to Be Page 14
