The next five minutes seemed like an hour. Finally Jake stepped forward. “Looks great, Jeremy. Why don’t you take the tree out of the bucket while I clear some of this loose dirt out of the hole?”
“Okay,” Jeremy panted the word, relinquishing the shovel with a grin.
Emma felt something shift inside her. She had a feeling that by the time Jake cleared some of the “loose
dirt” out of the hole, it would be deep enough to plant the root ball.
Jeremy wrestled the apple tree out of the bucket, and together he and Jake dropped it carefully into the hole.
If possible, the sapling looked even more forlorn than it had in the bucket.
Jeremy must have thought so, too. “I’m going to get some water.”
He scampered away, leaving Emma alone with Jake Sutton.
“I hope you don’t mind.” The rough velvet of his voice scraped across Emma’s frayed emotions. “I thought you might like a change this year. Something that will last longer than a vase of flowers.”
Change?
Emma almost laughed.
She’d been through enough changes to last a lifetime.
Chapter Three
“S
o, how are you adjusting to small-town life?” Matthew Wilde slid into the booth opposite Jake.
“Did we have an appointment?” Jake feigned confusion. “Because I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t choose to answer that question during the morning rush at the Grapevine Café.”
“I don’t wait for my congregation to make appointments.” The pastor shrugged. “I’ve discovered it’s more effective to go where they are. Like Jesus did.”
“Mmm. That explains why you spend so much time out on the lake.”
“Jesus did say something about becoming fishers of men.” Matt grinned. “What better place to find them?”
“What can I get you, Pastor?” Kate Nichols, the owner of the café, appeared beside their table, her smile as vibrant as the auburn curls that poked out like rusty bedsprings under the yellow bandana she wore. “Just coffee.”
Kate propped one hand on her hip. “You know as well as I do that as soon as I leave you’re going to change your mind and want the special with a side of hash
browns and bacon. Why don’t you save me the trouble and put the order in now?”
“I’m surprised you stay in business, Kate. The way you treat your customers. And your pastor,” Matt added piously.
Kate arched a brow. “Eggs?”
“Over medium.”
She turned to Jake. “Chief?”
“Just coffee, thanks.”
Kate tucked the pen in her apron pocket and flitted away. She reminded Jake of a hummingbird. Always in motion. From what he’d heard, Kate Nichols was Mirror Lake’s own five-foot-two generator, keeping the town running.
“Why did she believe you and not me?” Matt complained.
“I never change my mind.”
The vinyl booth crackled as Matt leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. “Your name came up yesterday.”
“Let me guess. Delia Peake.” From the way the woman had glared at him from the back row of the choir on Sunday morning, Jake guessed she was still steamed that the animal who’d trampled her garden and sampled the produce as if it were a buffet had eluded capture. As far as Delia was concerned, if Jake was worth his salt as a police chief, he would have apprehended the furry little vandal himself. Never mind that he’d been out at the Barlow house at the time of the “attack.”
Jake jerked his thoughts back into line as they strayed to Emma Barlow. Again. Almost a week had gone by since he’d tossed protocol out of the window and presented her with an apple tree instead of a bouquet of roses. The memory of that morning should have started
to fade. Instead, the opposite had occurred. Jake found himself thinking about it—about
her
—even more. Emma Barlow had a way of sneaking into his thoughts before he realized what was happening…
Like right now.
“No, it wasn’t Delia. This time.” From the amusement lurking in Matt’s eyes, Jake knew the pastor had heard about the garden fiasco. “A few months ago, Harold Davis, one of the church elders, met with me about starting a mentoring program. Matching men from the congregation with boys from single-parent families in town. The initial feedback from everyone was positive, so we researched the success of similar programs in other churches and wrote up a mission statement. I’ve been compiling a list of men willing to serve as positive role models for boys who don’t have one in their lives.”
Jake could see where this was going. “And you want to add mine to the list.”
“I already did.”
“This is where I remind you that I’m new to the area. You don’t know anything about me.” Only what Jake had told the pastor the first time they’d met, and he’d deliberately left out a few details of his former life.
“I know the important things.” Matt’s gaze remained level. “You’re a believer. You’re growing in your relationship with Christ. And you mentioned that you wanted to get involved in one of the ministries at Church of the Pines.”
Jake could have argued every point. He was a
new
believer. He had a long way to go when it came to relationships, not only with the Lord but with everyone in general. And he’d had no idea that a casual comment about serving in the church would bring about such
quick results. Jake had meant it, but thought he would have more time to prepare for the task. Like a few months. Or years.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re awfully pushy for a preacher?”
“Can’t honestly say I’ve heard that one,” Matt denied cheerfully.
“Only because people won’t say it to his face,” Kate interrupted. She slid a steaming plate in front of the pastor and checked the level on Jake’s coffee cup before moving to the next table.
“We have a picnic planned for this coming Saturday,” Matt went on. “Not only to give potential parents information but as a meet and greet so the mentors can get to know the boys and vice versa. We’ll match up the pairs after that.”
“I don’t know,” Jake hedged. “I would have to know more about what’s involved.”
“It’s easy. You just take a kid who needs a little time and attention under your wing.”
Under his wing.
That, Jake thought, wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Not for someone like him, anyway. Not too long ago, the only thing he could claim to have “under his wing” was his duty weapon.
Maybe he should have thought it through a little more when he’d told God he would say “yes” to whatever He asked.
Especially considering that he
had
been about to die when he’d made the promise.
“Listen, Mom! Do you hear that?” Jeremy’s head popped out from behind the colorful screen that separated the children’s area from the rest of the library.
He had volunteered to reorganize the picture-book section, literally turned upside down by a rambunctious pair of four-year-old twin boys who had visited the library with their teenage babysitter earlier that morning.
Emma didn’t bother to tap her finger against her lips, a gentle reminder for her son to keep his voice down. For the past two hours, they had been the only ones in the building.
“Hear what?” She tipped her head, pretending to be unaware of the faint but unmistakable sound of music drifting through the open windows.
“The ice-cream truck.” Jeremy abandoned his post and rushed toward her. “Can I get something? Please?”
Emma was already reaching for her purse, stashed on the bottom shelf of the circulation desk. Apparently Charlie “The Ice-Cream Man” Pendleton had decided to take advantage of another hot August afternoon. His ancient truck, with its equally ancient sound system, drew children into the streets with an enthusiasm that transformed the local Christmas tree farmer into a Pied Piper in denim bib overalls.
The music grew louder, a sure sign that the ice-cream truck had just turned the corner as it cruised toward its destination—a shady spot in front of the Grapevine Café.
“Here you go.” Emma handed him some change. “Be careful when you cross the street.”
Jeremy stuffed the money into the front pocket of his khaki shorts. “I will.”
“And remember not to go any farther than the café.”
“I won’t.”
He’ll be fine, Emma told herself as the heavy door swung shut behind him.
Charlie Pendleton didn’t have a lot to say but below the dusty brim of the man’s faded cap were eyes as sharp and watchful as a school crossing guard. Not to mention that his first stop was located kitty-corner to the police station…
Emma’s heart dipped as an image of Jake Sutton flashed in her mind. And she didn’t appreciate him intruding on her thoughts like this, any more than she had his unexpected appearance on her doorstep.
Although he had left a few minutes after Jeremy had returned with the bucket of water for the apple tree, his departure hadn’t given Emma much relief. Because for some reason, Jake Sutton had become Jeremy’s favorite topic of conversation over the past few days.
He hadn’t even been disappointed that there were no flowers to take to the cemetery. Jake’s unexpected but creative gesture had impacted Jeremy in a way that Emma hadn’t anticipated.
It had impacted her, too, but not in the same way.
From what she had seen, Jake didn’t seem to care about things like rules or expectations or even simple protocol, for that matter. He reminded her of the timber wolves that had been introduced into the heavily wooded northern counties, but gradually migrated into more populated areas, unmindful of any boundaries, natural or man-made. Not necessarily dangerous, but unpredictable.
Only Emma didn’t
want
unpredictable. Not anymore.
On his way back to the department, Jake spotted Charlie Pendleton’s truck parked in front of the
Grapevine Café. Unlike his route, the man’s appearance in town never followed a set pattern or schedule.
The ice-cream truck had rattled through town on several occasions, each time pulling Jake into a surreal Mayberry moment. A year ago, Jake wouldn’t have believed that a town like Mirror Lake actually existed.
Or that he would be living there.
He slowed down as he got closer and noticed a group of larger, middle-school-age boys push their way through the children patiently waiting to place their order. Jake recognized them immediately. Too young to get jobs and yet too old for babysitters, the boys’ favorite pastime seemed to be hanging out at the park or getting into mischief.
By the time Jake pulled over and hopped out of the squad car, they had formed a tight circle around someone at the back of the line.
One of them spotted Jake and sank his elbow into his friend’s side.
“Hey…” The boy’s voice snapped off when he saw Jake walking purposefully toward them.
The circle parted immediately, giving Jake a clear view of the unlucky kid who had been trapped inside. Jeremy Barlow.
The boy looked more worried than hurt, but Jake’s protective instincts—instincts he hadn’t known that he possessed until now—kicked into high gear.
“What’s going on?” He turned his attention to the largest boy in the group.
“Nothing. We’re just goofing around.” As if to prove his point, he gave Jeremy a friendly cuff on the shoulder.
Jeremy winced but remained silent. Jake stepped
between them, forcing the others to fall back. “Doesn’t Charlie have a rule that the youngest kids get to go to the front of the line?”
“Yeah, but it’s stupid,” one of the boys muttered. “It should be whoever gets here first.”
“If that’s the case, then from what I saw Jeremy would still be ahead of you.” Jake folded his arms. “Right?”
The oldest boy looked as if he were going to argue the point when Charlie’s voice, as crackly as the speakers, broke through the hum of chatter around them.
“Okay, that’s it! There are kids waiting for me at the next stop.” The elderly man closed up the back of the truck and jumped inside, deaf to the chorus of protests that rose from the boys who had been harassing Jeremy.
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “You can go. But at the next stop, I’m going to assume you’ll go to the end of the line and there won’t be any more ‘goofing around.’”
Mumbling their agreement, the boys made a beeline for the pile of bicycles on the sidewalk in front of the café.
The rest of the children began to disperse. Jeremy’s pensive gaze followed the truck as it chugged away.
“Are you going to catch up with him at the park?” Jake asked, knowing it was the second stop on Charlie’s route.
He shook his head. “Mom doesn’t want me to go farther than the café.”
Jake frowned. When he was Jeremy’s age, he and his best friend had practically worn the rubber off their bicycle tires on summer afternoons like this. His mother had seemed to accept the nomadic lifestyle of adolescent boys. Her only rule was that Jake eat breakfast before he left the house in the morning and be back in time for
supper. And what happened during the hours in between he didn’t need to account for.
Given the way Emma had hovered close to Jeremy the first time they’d met, Jake had a hunch she wasn’t as lenient.
“Mom is still at the library. I should go back.” Jeremy squared his thin shoulders.
Jake couldn’t help but be moved by the boy’s valiant attempt to hide his disappointment. “Do you want a ride?” he heard himself say.
The blue eyes widened. “In the police car?”
“That’s what I’m driving.” Jake couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “Hop in.”
Jeremy didn’t have to be told twice. He was sitting in the passenger seat with his seat belt buckled before Jake opened the driver’s side door.
“My dad drove a car like this, didn’t he?”
The innocent question took Jake off guard. Did Jeremy remember his father? “I’m sure it was similar,” he said carefully. “But it probably didn’t have a laptop like this one.”
“It’s important to keep up with changes in technology,” Jeremy said seriously as he leaned forward to study the radar gun mounted to the dash.
“That’s right.” Jake’s lips twitched as he turned the car around. “How is the apple tree doing?”
“I think it’s going to live. And it’s better than flowers, even if we didn’t have anything to take to the cemetery.”