“I’ve been looking for you.” Relief surged through Jake and he silently thanked God for giving him the opportunity to let the pastor know that he’d decided against being a mentor.
“That’s funny, because I was sent to find
you.
” Matt grinned. “Rounding up strays comes with the job.”
“Duty calls.” Jake jerked his head at the tool bag. “These were stolen from one of the cabins last month.”
“Hey, this is your day off,” Matt reminded him, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You weren’t supposed to be investigating anything more serious than the dessert table.”
“Says the man who also chose a career that keeps him on call 24/7.”
“Touché.” Matt rolled his eyes. “So now what?”
“Steve Patterson is working the day shift. I’ll give him a call and have him meet me at the department with the stolen property.”
“You’re going to miss the meeting.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’m afraid so.” Jake hesitated, torn between not wanting to disappoint the pastor and knowing that the sooner he got this over with, the sooner Matt could look for someone to take his place.
Matt slanted a knowing look at him. “You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you?”
“You remind me of my brother.” Jake raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “Andy can read minds, too. Do they teach you how to do that in the seminary?”
“I like your brother already.”
“Everyone does.” Jake could say it without a twinge of envy. “It’s too bad you got stuck with me instead of him.” He was only half joking.
Matt chuckled. “I’m pretty sure God didn’t look down from Heaven and say, ‘Pops, I sent the wrong brother to Mirror Lake.’”
Sometimes, Jake wasn’t so sure.
“Before we get started, would everyone please join me in a word of prayer?”
Conversation around the table subsided as Pastor Wilde stepped to the front of the group. His easy smile swept over the people gathered together under the shade of the willow trees.
Emma bowed her head but didn’t close her eyes, choosing to focus on a maple leaf near her foot. Scarlet trimmed the delicate edges, a sure sign that autumn was on its way.
She blocked out the pastor’s words until she heard Abby, who was sitting across from her, echo his heartfelt
amen. Emma lifted her head, ready to count the minutes until the meeting ended.
Harold Davis stepped forward and briefly shared the vision of the ministry and then Pastor Wilde introduced each of the mentors. Emma recognized some of the men from church and a few others from town. Each one took a few minutes to explain why he was involved in the ministry and then went on to share some of his hobbies and interests. After that, the pastor encouraged the mothers to ask questions and express any concerns they had about the program.
Most of them were excited about their sons having a male role model, but Emma couldn’t lay aside the doubts that swept through her mind. Jeremy wasn’t rowdy or rebellious. Not a “handful” the word she’d heard some of the mothers use to describe their sons. When he showed an interest in something, she encouraged him to check out a book or do an Internet search on the topic.
Jeremy wasn’t lacking anything. Was he? As her mother, it was her job to protect him. He had already experienced the loss of his father. Was it wrong of her to want to shield him from situations—or people—that could hurt him?
A sudden commotion interrupted the meeting as the boys spilled out of the woods. Abby’s fiancé, Quinn O’Halloran, had taken them on a nature walk to keep them occupied during the question-and-answer session.
“I think that’s our signal to adjourn.” Pastor Matt smiled. “But please, feel free to stay as long as you like. We’ve organized a fishing tournament for the boys and thanks to Abby, there is still plenty of food left.”
“Oops, that’s my cue.” Abby leaned over and gave
Emma a quick hug, surrounding her with the faint but distinctive scent of cinnamon. “I’ll call you about that business card.”
“I better help her get ready for the second wave.” Kate stood up and pointed her plastic fork at Emma. “Stop by the café sometime.” She lowered her voice. “People say that my pie is as good as Abby’s.”
“I heard that!” Abby called over her shoulder.
“You were supposed to.” Kate rolled her eyes and aimed a smile at Emma, who couldn’t muster one in return.
She’d been watching for Jeremy and her heart wrenched when she spotted him trailing behind the rest of the group, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
This was what she’d been afraid would happen.
Chapter Six
T
amping down her concern, Emma waved to get Jeremy’s attention. He saw her and ran over to the table.
“Is everything all right?”
“Look what I found!” Jeremy slid onto the bench next to her, his expression animated rather than upset. “Mr. O’Halloran said it’s a real arrowhead. I found it when we were looking for deer antlers in the woods.”
Emma looked down at the flat oval stone cradled in her son’s grimy palm. The tiny notches on either side had definitely been put there by design, not accident.
“You don’t stumble on one of these very often.” An elderly man, whose dusky skin and coffee-brown eyes reflected his Native American ancestry, had walked over to examine the arrowhead. “Your son is quite the adventurer.”
Jeremy’s eyes glowed at the praise. “Just like we learned at camp. Right Mr. Redstone?”
“I’m glad you remembered.” The man winked at him. “How are you doing with the rest of your explorations these days?”
“Good.”
Daniel Redstone must have sensed Emma’s confusion,
because he turned back to Emma with a smile. “I volunteered with The Great Adventure Camp last month and Jeremy joined my group. All the boys committed to memorizing one scripture verse a week.”
Emma felt the same way she had after admitting to Abby that Jeremy didn’t know how to swim. He had tried to tell her about the things he’d learned at the church-sponsored day camp but Emma knew she’d been less than receptive. As sensitive as Jeremy was, he must have picked up on her feelings. As the week progressed, he’d talked less and less about the things they’d done on that particular day. At the time, she’d been relieved. Now she was simply embarrassed.
“I don’t understand some of them,” Jeremy admitted. “The words are kind of hard to read in Mom’s Bible.”
Mom’s Bible?
Emma swallowed hard. She didn’t own a Bible…
Yes, she did.
A palm-size edition, with print so small a person practically needed a magnifying glass to read it, bound in white leather. The clerk at the bridal store had given it to Emma when she’d purchased her gown. She vaguely remembered the woman smiling and telling her that it was the most important “accessory” a bride could have. After the wedding ceremony, Emma had carefully written Brian’s name and her own in the front cover and recorded the date.
The beginning of their life together.
Emma hadn’t seen the Bible for a long time. But somehow, Jeremy must have found it.
She pushed to her feet, overwhelmed by a sudden urge to escape. “We have to go.”
“But Mom!” Jeremy’s voice rose in dismay. “There’s
going to be a fishing tournament. Can’t we stay a little longer?”
“We agreed to attend the picnic,” Emma said, careful not to look at Jeremy and see the disappointment in his eyes. “And the picnic is over.”
She’d kept her part of the deal. Now Jeremy would have to accept her decision.
“Chief Sutton! Why do I get the impression that you aren’t taking me seriously?”
Jake held the phone a few inches away from his ear but it didn’t muffle Delia Peake’s piercing soprano. Her voice sounded pleasant enough when it blended with the rest of the church choir but not when she was using it to drill a hole in his eardrum.
“I suppose I could take an impression of the foot—
paw
—print, Mrs. Peake, but it would be difficult to match it to a specific suspect…” Jake closed his eyes. “No, I must have missed that episode, but no matter what you saw on television, I don’t think it’s possible to trace the damage done to your garden to a
particular
raccoon.”
A rap on the door brought Jake’s head up. His prayer for deliverance had been answered.
Thank you, Lord.
“Mrs. Peake? I’m sorry, but my nine-o’clock appointment is here.” Jake didn’t know who that nine o’clock appointment was, but it didn’t matter. He was grateful for their arrival as he hung up the phone.
The door opened and Matt Wilde sauntered in.
Or not.
“To what do I owe this unexpected visit?” As relieved as Jake was at the interruption, an internal alarm
went off at the sight of the serious expression on the pastor’s face.
“I have a problem.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed as he leaned back in the chair. “Why do I get the feeling that your problem is about to become my problem?”
“I think you should rethink your decision to become a mentor.”
“Matt—”
“Just hear me out. Please.”
“Fine,” Jake said irritably. “But only because you used the magic word.”
Matt, like Andy, seemed to have a Teflon coating when it came to sarcasm. He dropped into the chair opposite Jake’s desk instead of running for cover.
“We had a lot more boys show up yesterday than we anticipated, praise God.”
Jake couldn’t argue with that. It
was
a praise. New as he was to a life of faith, answered prayer still blew him away. But that didn’t mean he trusted the look in Matt’s eyes.
“I did volunteer for the prayer team, remember?”
“You can be on the prayer team.”
“Good—”
“
And
serve as a mentor.”
“What makes you so sure I can do this?” Jake’s hands fisted on the desk.
“What makes you sure you can’t?” Matt countered mildly.
Because I’m not sure I have anything valuable to offer, Jake wanted to say. How could he be a good influence on a person when he hadn’t noticed his best friend drifting closer to the line between right and wrong? But he wasn’t ready to share that story. Not even with Matt.
The physical wounds he’d suffered had healed faster than the emotional ones.
“I have no idea how to relate to kids.” Frustration leeched into his voice. “If God wants me to be involved in something, shouldn’t it at least be something I’m
good
at?”
Something that didn’t make him feel totally in-adequate?
“You must be better than you think.” Matt leaned back and crossed his hands behind his head. “One of the boys specifically requested you.”
“Requested me?” Jake couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t mingled with the boys at the picnic the day before. He hadn’t joined in the games with the pastor and Quinn O’Halloran. In fact, the only boy he’d had any interaction with at all had been…
Jake’s head jerked up and he met Matt’s amused gaze.
“That’s right. Jeremy Barlow.”
The name brought Jake to his feet. “Are you saying that Emma agreed to let Jeremy participate?”
“Not yet.”
“You’ll never be able to convince her.”
“You’re probably right.” Matt’s smiled turned smug. “That’s why I’m hoping you can.”
I’ll trust that You know what You’re doing, God.
Jake muttered the prayer five minutes later as he crossed Main Street. Veering toward the one-story brick building on the corner, he followed the cobblestone walkway to the door and paused to read the bronze plaque before going inside.
The building had once housed the first one-room schoolhouse in the county. Vacant for years, it had been
saved from being turned into a parking lot by a group of citizens who later formed the local historical society.
The details were printed in letters so small that Jake had to squint to read them. But he did—because knowing local history was important.
Not because he was stalling.
And not because he was sure that he was the last person Emma expected—or wanted—to walk into the library.
Jake slipped inside the building, careful not to let the door slam shut behind him. It was the first time he’d been inside the library. Sunlight poured through the lace curtains, creating stencils on the gleaming hardwood floor. Bookshelves fanned out like the spokes of a wheel from the massive circular oak desk in the center of the room. The air smelled like lemon polish.
The order and tidiness reminded him of a certain librarian.
Jake looked around. There was no sign of Emma.
He was about to ring the bell when he heard a voice coming from the back of the room. Jake followed the sound through the maze of tables and suddenly felt as if he’d fallen through a rabbit hole. Everything around him suddenly shrank in size. The tables and chairs. The bookshelves.
Behind a portable room divider, painted in bright colors and cut out to resemble a storybook forest scene, he heard a soft giggle.
“‘Watch what I do! I’ll bake cookies and bread. Yummy pies, tarts and cakes,’ Chef Charlotte said…”
The lilting voice sounded vaguely familiar.
Jake moved closer and peeked through a narrow gap in the divider.
A dozen children sat in a semicircle on a colorful rag
rug. All eyes were riveted on the woman who sat cross-legged in front of them, holding a picture book on her lap. A snow-white apron shrouded her slim frame and a tall chef’s hat was propped on the tawny head, but there was no mistaking the face that had been invading his thoughts. Even with the tip of her nose and porcelain cheeks dusted with something that looked like…flour.
The children, who had obviously heard the story before, all shouted together on cue. “What will you do with your cakes and bread?”
“‘I’ll give them away,’ Chef Charlotte said.” With a flourish, Emma waved a wooden spoon in the air as if it were a scepter.
Jake could feel his chin scraping against the floor.
What had happened to the Emma Barlow he knew? The buttoned-up woman who had worn a skirt and blouse to a Saturday picnic? The one who didn’t seem to
like
people?