Love's Emerging Faith (Love's Texas Homecoming Book 3; First Street Church #20)

by Sharon Hughson

  Her face must have showed her misgivings because he ran a finger gently along her jaw. “We can do the long-distance thing for a while longer.”

  But what if she didn’t want to?

  His mouth quirked into the grin she adored. “Now, why are you at the sheriff’s office?”

  She explained about finding the boy. As she talked, something twisted in her chest. She’d promised to help Kenton find his sister, but all she’d done was get him back in the system that separated them.

  “He wants to be placed with his little sister.” She tossed her hands in the air. “As soon as I saw him, he reminded me of you.”

  Something dark flashed in Bailey’s blue eyes before he ducked his chin so the brim of his hat shaded them from view.

  “He wants to protect her, like Drew protected me and you protect Tess.”

  “It’s what brothers do.” Bailey’s drawling words were quiet.

  Jaz furrowed her brow and reached to push his hat up. In the pocket of her bedraggled sweatshirt, her phone vibrated against her abdomen and when she looked down, her kinking hair fell from her loosening ponytail.

  “It’s my boss.” She glanced away from the phone. “I called to ask for advice about Kenton.”

  “Better take the call.” He pecked her cheek, but the action made her shiver instead of filling her with warmth. “I should check on Tess.”

  “Dinner at six?”

  Bailey rounded to the driver’s door and nodded once. “We’ll be there.”

  Jaz slid her finger to answer the phone and strode back toward the police station. “Mr. Boldt, thanks for returning my call.”

  “Sounded important.” He cleared his throat. “Call me Evan.”

  She shook her head. “I need some legal advice. About foster care group homes.”

  Because as she’d listened to Kenton’s story of a mother who abandoned him to her sister and the aunt who foisted them on friends at every turn, she couldn’t stand the thought of the boy being separated from his sister for another day. They needed a home, and apparently, since Kenton had fled from every placement, no one wanted him.

  Bailey’s truck rattled past and Jaz waved at him. He raised his hand in return, but he wasn’t smiling. Already thinking about confronting Lonie again? Or did she say something that hurt his feelings? Evan’s voice drew her attention back to the phone.

  “It’s not my specialty, but I possess some general knowledge.”

  The standard legal disclaimer. It made her lips quirk into something like a smile. How very lawyerly of him.

  “There’s a nine-year-old boy who wants to be placed with his younger sister. She’s five. They’ve been in and out of the foster system for six months, but now their legal guardian has been deemed unfit.” Jaz clenched her fist, gripping her yoga pants in a way that wasn’t healthy for the spandex.

  “Their parents are out of the picture, then?”

  “Dad isn’t named on the birth certificates. Mom left two years ago and hasn’t been back.”

  “FPS will search for her.”

  Jaz nodded. She had no delusions that the mother who’d abandoned her three-year-old daughter to a woman who sold herself for drugs would be considered any more fit than the aunt. Yes, there’d be a process, but there wasn’t any reason to expect the kids wouldn’t be in the system.

  “Grandparents deceased. No other known relatives. But the sister has been accepted into a family that doesn’t have room for the boy. Kenton.” Naming him made it more real.

  “Sad but not unusual.”

  Spoken like a man whose family was intact. A man who had never had to protect his sister from anything worse than unwanted attention from the guys at school.

  Jaz gritted her teeth. Lord, help me handle this the right way.

  Which wasn’t spewing disdain for the man she prayed would assist her. Even if her home life hadn’t been ideal, she didn’t fully understand Kenton’s situation either. But she knew the results. She witnessed them daily in the life of the man she loved. Parents who left didn’t do it without causing internal wounds.

  “According to the sheriff, this isn’t an isolated event. And now that Kenton has run away, he’s considered a higher risk and no local fosters will take him in.”

  Evan made a noncommittal sound, so Jaz pressed on. “We need a residential facility for older kids and siblings. A safe place where they can be together.”

  “That’ll require two monitors, one of each gender.”

  Of course. Nothing she wanted could be easy.

  I don’t need easy. Determination revved her heart rate.

  “Seems like at least a half-dozen kids have been bounced around, some clear out into the sticks. There are ten families in Rosewood, but half are for emergency placements and the other half have been filled up all year.”

  “What did you need?”

  “A place for them to stay right here in the community.” She took a deep breath. Once she said it aloud, there’d be no going back. “I’m going to start a group home.”

  She straightened. The fire in her middle that had burned brightly when she’d first joined the Army flared to life. Passion for a mission. It had been the missing ingredient these past weeks while she’d been chained to a computer doing research and taking care of her mother.

  On her boss’s end of the phone, she heard a door open and close. He sighed. “I know an attorney who specializes in family law and deals frequently with FPS. I’ll have him call you.”

  “These kids need someone to advocate for them.”

  “You’d make a fine attorney, Jaz. With a heart for the underdog, you’d be a favorite with families.” After a pause, “You are a favorite with our clients. The kids have missed you.”

  “I’ve missed them.” She pictured the diversity of faces among the clientele.

  “It might be next week before he contacts you.” Evan sounded resigned.

  “That’s fine. After help from Google, I have a starting place. I’m hoping the FPS social worker will discuss it with me once she finishes with Kenton and the legal team.”

  His sigh was louder this time. “You’ll be in the office Monday?”

  Her galloping heart sank into her stomach. She needed to return to Austin and get back to her job. Even the returning hope of finding a new mission didn’t negate the drudgery of details.

  “I’ll be there.”

  By the time she returned to the station, the door to the conference room opened. Sheriff Grant strode out and caught her eye. She followed him back.

  The door barely closed before Kenton jumped up and stepped toward her. She let him hold her hand. Both the social worker and Jedediah Gowan, the county attorney, took note of the physical contact. Funny how the standoffish boy had warmed up to her during the hours they played checkers at this very table.

  “Jaz Rolle is the one who found our boy out by Mill Pond.” The sheriff gestured toward the attorney. “You know Mr. Gowan. Donna is a court reporter asked to transcribe the conversation today. And this—” His hand extended toward a mousy looking woman whose brown eyes squinted at them over large, round glasses, “is the representative from FPS, KaroLynn Vance.”

  Jaz shook hands all around before squeezing into a chair beside Kenton. The boy fidgeted, kicking her in the ankle on accident. Jaz gripped his hand tighter until he stilled.

  “Could you relate the story for us, on the record?” Jed Gowan folded his hands and gazed at her.

  She could see how those light brown eyes could be both comforting and menacing, depending on if he was for or against you in court. Jaz relayed the morning events.

  She ended the tale with her own question. “So, is it possible for Kenton to see his sister?”

  Jed turned to the social worker. KaroLynn’s mouth worked like a fish in search of food. She cleared her throat and pulled off her glasses. “We feel for the boy’s situation but reuniting the children could disturb a happy placement.”

  “What do you think will happen?�
�� Jaz raised her eyebrows. “Is Kenton going to scoop his sister up and run?”

  The social worker glared. Jaz didn’t want to make an enemy of the woman. She needed help to move forward with her plan, but there was red tape and then there was ridiculousness. A boy wanted to make sure his little sister was safe, and anything that kept him from doing that was ridiculous.

  Jaz turned to Kenton. “You just want to see her, right?”

  He nodded. His Adam’s apple bulged as he swallowed. “I wish I could stay with her, but I know no one wants me.”

  Jaz’s heart plunged into her feet. She wanted to pull the boy into her arms and reassure him that he was wanted. But since she couldn’t take him home with her because of the state fostering hullabaloo, she wouldn’t offer false hope or additional promises.

  She ground her teeth. “What can we do to make this meeting happen?”

  KaroLynn huffed. Jed and the sheriff exchanged glances.

  “Look, ma’am, I plan to hunt up enough support from investors to open a residential home for foster kids who are difficult to place and especially for siblings. I think it’s in the best interest of the children if families can stay together.”

  “And a group home is better than living with a family?”

  Jaz shook her head. “No, but it’s better than being separated from the only family you have.” She sighed. “Ms. Vance, we might have gotten off on the wrong foot here. I don’t care so much about regulations as I do about this little boy.”

  The women’s gazes clashed and held. Understanding dawned in the social worker’s eyes. However long she’d been working for FPS, it had been long enough to drain the soul from her, but Jaz saw the woman’s buried ideals awakening.

  KaroLynn shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. “I can certainly call the foster home and see if a visit with Flossie May can be arranged.”

  “Thank you.” She squeezed Kenton’s hand. The boy wilted against her arm. “And any information you could give me that would expedite my own project would be greatly appreciated.”

  The woman nodded. “Let me make that call before we take the boy to his emergency placement.” She shuffled out of the room clutching a folder in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

  “Thanks for your help, sheriff.” Jaz smiled at the man.

  “Thanks for staying with Kenton here.” The sheriff squatted to the boy’s level. “Although, I bet he’s hungry. I’ve got a sandwich and chips in the break room.”

  After a nod from Jaz, Kenton followed the sheriff out. Once the door shut, the court reporter began collecting her gear.

  “Jed, you got any insight on opening a halfway house for these kids?” Jaz asked the county attorney.

  “It’s a big undertaking. Judging by how things have been going this year, I think it’d take some pressure off the foster parents in the area.”

  As nice as his approval of the idea was, that wasn’t the sort of information she needed. “I have the procedure from the Internet, but I have a feeling the state isn’t going to see an unmarried woman my age as a suitable sponsor for such an undertaking.”

  He raised a dark eyebrow. “If you had a social work degree, they’d look on you more favorably. Still, residential foster care homes for youth are in demand. Most sponsors specialize the tenants, like children of drug or sexual abuse.”

  “Something for siblings and runaways isn’t specific enough?”

  The corners of his lips lifted. “Oh, it’s specific. And pretty high risk. They’ll want lock-ins and a certified counselor, most likely. As well as—”

  “A live-in chaperone of each gender.”

  His smile appeared, transforming him into a good-old-boy. “You have done some homework.”

  “Evan Boldt told me that.”

  “Evan Boldt? That’s right. You work for the Boldt brothers in Austin.”

  “I hope they understand.” She stood up. “This project is about to become my full-time focus.”

  Jed hurried to open the door for the reporter. He thanked her for her help and waited for Jaz to follow her out.

  Jaz locked her gaze on his. “This halfway house is happening.”

  “I’ll support you anyway I can.”

  She nodded. “You can start by steering me toward potential investors.”

  Jed coughed. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”

  For these kids, she’d ask for the sun and moon and wouldn’t stop asking until she got them.

  5

  The old farmhouse felt empty as Bailey worked on preliminary drawings for the new office space. Dick had signed the lease earlier in the day after all four investors for the conversion project had signed on the dotted line. Next week he’d meet with contractors and shuffle through bids to get his first solo project underway.

  The sun lingered low on the horizon, and he checked his cell for the umpteenth time. It had barely been thirty minutes since Tess said she was heading home. He wondered if he should shower before taking his sister to the Rolle house.

  As soon as I saw him, he reminded me of you. Jaz’s words cut into him. Did she really see a scrawny foster kid when she looked at him?

  She felt sorry for him. And here he was planning to ask her to marry him.

  He shook away the thoughts. That hadn’t been what she meant. Hadn’t his past attempts to break up with her taught him anything? Jaz loved him. As much as any woman ever would.

  More than you deserve.

  Bailey surged to his feet and closed the laptop. He didn’t need to listen to Lonie’s lies inside his head. Soon enough, the man would be back and tossing out threats in person.

  He might as well use this time to sneak into the barn and give Shamgar a treat.

  After he stowed his laptop in its bag, he pulled some baby carrots out of the small refrigerator in the manager’s room. A quick glance in the mirror told him he should at least comb his hair. After all, he’d have his hat off.

  The smell of hay, dust, and animals embraced him as he strode down the path toward the paddock gate. At his whistle, four heads came up and four horsey faces turned.

  “Hey buddy. I’ve got carrots.”

  Shamgar tossed his silvery mane and wheeled toward the barn. When another horse made a move in the same direction, his gelding cut in front and trotted a few steps. The bay snorted and stomped, staring toward the barn, tail flicking side to side.

  Soon enough, Shamgar followed Bailey into his stall, nose nuzzling along the hip pocket of Bailey’s jeans. Bailey offered him one carrot on a flat palm to entice the horse into the wooden enclosure.

  Shamgar nudged his chest.

  “Demanding, aren’t you?” Bailey scratched the black star on the horse’s forehead. He could still see ghostly creases, scars remaining from the rope marks that had crisscrossed the speckled coat when he’d first rescued the animal.

  After Shamgar snuffed up the final carrot, Bailey ducked across the aisle to grab a brush and curry comb.

  “Never pictured you with animals.”

  Bailey flinched at the jarring words in the solace of the barn. Lonie Dyer didn’t belong in this world.

  One of his hands closed on the curry comb as he swiveled toward the doorway. The man slouched against the door frame, with work-booted feet crossed at the ankle and jeans a size too large sagging to his hips beneath an oversized sweatshirt. He looked like he’d been dressed from a dumpster, and that was probably close to the truth. Wasn’t he getting some clothes today? Bailey didn’t care enough to ask. He sidled toward the shelf of brushes.

  “Your sister is sweeter than candy.” Lonie shook his head. “Got too much religion along the way.” His lips puckered in disgust.

  “The Traverses were great parents.”

  Lonie raised an eyebrow. “Anyone who needs the crutch of religion is weak.”

  Bailey blinked. Fritz and MaryAnn were far from weak. He recalled the strength of the peace and assurance he’d felt after his short conversation with Pastor Bernie. Lonie was the
weak one.

  “Time to talk business, boy.” Lonie straightened as he growled the words.

  “I don’t care to do business with you.” Bailey scorched the man with a glare.

  “You should.” A scratchy chuckle that sounded like metal grinding into glass set Bailey back a step. “I know you care about your sister.”

  “You only care about yourself.” The metal edge of the comb cut into his palm.

  “I’ve been reformed.” The man’s thin hand clutched at his chest like Bailey’s words wounded him, but the crooked tilt of his lips told the true tale. “Colorado and Texas penitentiaries have been contributing to my education, healthy eating, and fitness for two decades. I am a poster boy of the system.”

  “Hardly a positive endorsement,” Bailey muttered and edged back until his shoulders nudged a peg holding a bridle.

  “My parole officer would argue that.”

  “Got him snowed already, huh?”

  “Son, it don’t snow in Texas. I’m a charming man.” He smirked. “That’s how I convinced your mama to marry me.”

  An urge to pummel the sneering face welled in Bailey’s gut. It burned through him, but he gripped the comb and an empty peg to anchor himself away from the despicable man.

  Lord, don’t let me sink to his level. The prayer came suddenly, unbidden. Tension eased from his shoulders.

  “Pay me off, and I’m gone.”

  “For how long?”

  A thick eyebrow rose toward the receded hairline. “Pay me enough and you’ll never see me again.”

  I couldn’t be so lucky.

  “The guest ranch took all our capital.” All of Wynn’s capital. They’d never had any money in the bank. “There’s no money.”

  “I’ve seen some antiques around the place.”

  He’d been casing the farmhouse and barn. Bailey shouldn’t have expected any less. He fisted his hands again. Pain as the curry comb gouged him shook away the cyclone of fury.

  “There’s nothing for you here. You should move along.”

  “You gonna make me?” Lonie straightened into a semblance of a fighting stance.

  Bailey gritted his teeth and snarled, “I can take you.”