by Irene Hannon
“Yes. I see her.”
“Can we talk to her after church?”
“We’ll try.”
But she might slip away fast . . . perhaps during the final hymn.
Not much he could do about that—unless he could somehow communicate to her that Molly wanted to say hello.
He caught her eye as she settled into a pew near the back. Smiled.
She returned it—though hers seemed tentative.
Molly waved.
Her smile broadened.
Logan pointed at his niece, then at Jeannette, and made the familiar talking gesture with his thumb and four fingers.
A few beats passed, but at last she dipped her head, then redirected her attention to the front as the organ struck up the notes of the opening hymn.
Logan tried to concentrate on the Scripture readings and Reverend Baker’s sermon. He really did. But he was as antsy as his niece for the service to end so they could talk to Jeannette.
The instant the last note of the final hymn died away, he took Molly’s hand and guided her through the crowd surging toward the exit. If they dallied, his neighbor could have second thoughts about hanging around.
But true to her word, she was waiting for them in the vestibule, standing by herself off to the side.
“Hi, ’Nette!” Molly pulled free of his hand and trotted over to the dark-haired woman.
“Hi, Molly.” She got down on the girl’s level and whispered in her ear. Molly’s countenance brightened as she listened.
She rose as he joined them. “Good morning.”
“Morning. I’ve been sharing your photos and texts with Molly. Sounds like the abandoned kitty is doing well.”
“So far, so good.”
“But at the expense of restful slumber.” The faint shadows under her lower lashes were new.
“I can make up the sleep if I need to.”
No ifs about it. But rather than risk insulting her appearance, he let it pass.
“Have you named our friend yet?”
“No.” Her features flattened. “What’s the point? I’m not keeping him.”
“Can I name him?” Molly’s face lit up.
“It might be better to let the people who adopt him pick his name, honey.” Jeannette rested her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “What if they didn’t like the one we chose?”
A logical response—but why did he think there was more to her reluctance to name the kitten than the future owner’s preference? The anonymity of a nameless creature allowed her to keep more of a distance—and arm’s length appeared to be her modus operandi.
Molly cocked her head. “Well, I’m going to call him Button. They can change it later. Or you could keep him.” His niece gave Jeannette a hopeful look.
“No.” His neighbor’s response was immediate—and vehement. “I don’t have time to take care of a pet. So . . .” She gave them both a smile that was a tad too bright. “What are your plans for today?”
“Chores—and we’re going for a walk on the beach later with Toby.” Logan left it at that. Molly might have more luck getting a positive response to an invitation than he would.
As he’d expected, she picked up his cue. “Do you want to come?”
He could see the conflict, followed by regret, in Jeannette’s eyes—and knew what her answer was going to be.
“Sundays are very busy for me, honey. People come to tea in the afternoon, and I have to get ready.”
“What about later?”
His niece got a gold star for persistence.
“I’ll probably be tired—and I have to take care of the kitty.”
“Welcome, folks.” Reverend Baker joined them, putting an end to that discussion as he shook hands and gave Molly a pat on the head. “I’m not lingering to chat today. Father Murphy and I are running some supplies over to the Shabos’ in between services, but I wanted to say hello. You knew about the fire, didn’t you?”
Logan frowned. “What fire?”
He listened as the cleric gave him a shorthand version of what had happened yesterday.
“Man. That’s the pits, after everything else they’ve been through.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Reverend Baker lifted his hand in greeting as Father Murphy entered and hustled over. “Morning, Kevin.”
“Morning. Hello, folks.” The priest nodded to him and Jeannette.
“You’re ten minutes early.” Reverend Baker tapped his watch.
“I wanted to grab a doughnut in the fellowship hall.”
“I thought this was doughnut Sunday at St. Francis?”
“It is . . . but yours are free.” The padre smirked at his fellow cleric. “Besides, as the good book says, it’s blessed to feed the hungry. You’ll find that in Matthew 25. And Isaiah 58:7 clearly says to share your food with the hungry. There are a host of other references to that subject too.”
“I’m aware of that—but you may be stretching the message of Scripture a bit with doughnuts.”
Father Murphy grinned. “Close enough.”
The minister folded his arms, lips twitching. “You know . . . you may have a point—especially about the Matthew reference. It does mention doing good deeds for the least of our brothers . . . and here you are.”
“Ouch.” The priest grimaced, his eyes twinkling. “I should have seen that coming.”
Reining in a chuckle, Logan looked at Jeannette. He didn’t have much experience watching clerics interact, but these two were a hoot.
She appeared to be struggling to contain her own mirth as the two men bantered.
“Maybe we should have another joint Bible study with our churches this summer to help you bone up on your Scripture,” Reverend Baker said.
“Hah. May I remind you which church won the Bible edition of Trivial Pursuit at the end of last summer’s session?”
Reverend Baker gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “You got easy questions.”
“For the record . . . that’s not true.” The priest directed his comment to the audience of three, then turned back to the minister. “But enough of this debate. We should move on to more important matters—like doughnuts and deliveries. Give me ten minutes and I’ll meet you in the parking lot. You can wedge yourself into the back seat, next to the toilet paper.”
“Gee thanks.” Reverend Baker straightened his clerical collar. “You’re lucky I’m such a great sport.”
“Not on the golf course.” He nudged the pastor with his elbow, and Logan hid a grin behind a cough as the padre winked at him and Jeannette. “I’m glad I ran into you both today. I wanted to say thanks again for the tutoring, Jeannette, and for the job you gave Mariam, Logan. I understand Thomma is also training your pup.”
“Yes—and doing an exceptional job. I think the man is a dog whisperer.”
“Is that right?” Reverend Baker chimed back in. “I have another member of the congregation with a recalcitrant puppy. I wonder if she might want to enlist Thomma’s aid once he finishes your job.”
“Let’s mention it to him during our visit. And now I’m off for a doughnut.” Father Murphy lifted his hand in farewell and wove through the clusters of churchgoers in the vestibule toward the fellowship hall.
“I best be off too.” Reverend Baker waved at another departing congregant. “I have to turn off a few lights in the church and stop in at the house. But first let me add my thanks to Kevin’s. You two have gone above and beyond helping our deserving family.”
“Mariam and Thomma have done far more for me than I’ve done for them, Reverend. Jeannette’s the one who’s gone above and beyond.” Logan gestured toward the woman across from him.
“Indeed she has.” The man took her hand. “May the Lord bless you both—and you too, young lady.” He squeezed Molly’s fingers.
As he returned to the sanctuary, Jeannette pulled out her keys. “I have to get home.”
“If you change your mind about joining us for a walk—or you’re in the mood for some visitors la
ter—we’ll be heading down to the beach about six thirty.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. You two enjoy your day.”
Molly watched her walk away, emitting a wistful sigh. “She’s nice.”
“Yes, she is.”
“I wish she wasn’t sad.”
So Molly had picked up on that too. “What makes you think she’s sad?”
His niece shrugged. “Sometimes her smile doesn’t get up to her eyes.”
Never again would he underestimate the perceptive powers of a five-year-old.
He surveyed the thinning crowd in the foyer. This wasn’t the place he’d planned to broach heavier subjects with Molly, but if she was in a talking mood it might be wise to take advantage of the opportunity.
“I wonder why she’s sad.” He kept his tone conversational.
His niece studied the tips of her Sunday shoes. “She said she misses the people she loved. Like I do.”
Throat tightening, Logan brushed back a strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. “Where did the people she loved go?”
“I don’t know. Away.”
That must be all she knew—but as long as they were talking about loss, he ought to follow his neighbor’s advice about sharing what was in his own heart.
He dropped down to one knee beside her and tipped her chin up with one finger. “It’s hard when people you love go away. I miss Nana and your daddy every single day. And I miss my own daddy too, even though he’s been gone a long time. But they always stay in my heart.” He touched the left side of his chest.
“Sometimes . . .” She sniffed and wiped her hand under her nose. “Sometimes my tummy hurts when I think about Nana. Like it’s empty.”
“Mine too.”
She shuffled one of her feet and dropped her chin again. “I don’t remember my daddy very good.” Her soft voice quavered. “But Nana showed me pictures of him and told me stories.”
“I know stories about your daddy too.”
She met his gaze, the blue of her irises an exact match for her dad’s—and his. “Could you tell me some?”
“Sure.” Why hadn’t he thought about doing that weeks ago? “I can start tonight while we take our walk on the beach.” Where the seclusion and quiet would be much more conducive to building rapport than the busy vestibule of the church. “How does that sound?”
“’Kay.” She watched the people strolling toward the doorway that led to the fellowship hall. “Can we get a doughnut?”
“I think that would be a fine Sunday treat.” He stood.
But before he could follow his usual pattern and take her hand, she tucked her small fingers into his.
He froze.
That was a first.
And it had to be a positive sign—didn’t it?
Or would everything go back to the status quo once they got home?
Impossible to know—and he was done predicting the course of his relationship with Molly. Nothing had gone as he’d expected, and the breakthrough he’d been certain he’d made the night she’d let him stay with her after he found her crying had ended up being a bust.
This could be the same.
But as they strolled toward the hall, a surge of warmth and optimism percolated through him, lifting his spirits.
Even if they weren’t making any real progress, why not enjoy these small victories?
And who knew?
If he could string together enough brief positive moments, in the long term they would add up . . . and perhaps become a way of life.
At least he could hope—and pray—for that outcome.
Resist, Jeannette. You have plenty to do to clean up after today’s tea. Quit standing here watching your neighbors trek down to the beach.
But she couldn’t help herself.
Especially after they both glanced her direction as they walked along the perimeter of the lavender beds, Toby straining at the leash.
And the last vestige of her resistance melted after Molly stopped and pointed to the house.
She was probably asking about the kitten.
Why not let the child take a quick look at Button? What harm could there be in that? She—and her uncle—had been involved in the rescue, after all.
Before she could change her mind, she crossed to the door and pulled it open.
“Hi!” She waved at the pair as they approached the end of her property.
Logan and Molly pivoted in unison. Delight suffused the child’s face, but beyond his obvious surprise, Logan’s expression was harder to decipher.
“Would you like to peek in on Button?”
She couldn’t hear what Molly said to her uncle in response to her question, but a few seconds later she was towing him toward the house.
Logan didn’t appear to be resisting—and she’d be willing to bet it wasn’t because he was all that interested in the cat’s condition.
A delicious tingle ran up her spine . . . which she immediately squelched.
That reaction was not appropriate.
“Hi.” Logan lifted a hand in greeting as he approached. “You made a little girl’s day—and in the interest of full disclosure, a big boy’s day too.”
O-kay. That bit of candor had come out of the blue.
Since she hadn’t a clue how to respond, she ignored his comment and motioned them in. “I’m keeping Button in the kitchen. It’s the warmest room in the house, and the closest to his food.”
Logan tied Toby’s leash to the patio table umbrella—and the pup expressed his displeasure with a loud howl.
“Sorry, boy—you can complain all you want, but you’re staying out here.”
He responded with another plaintive yowl.
“He doesn’t like to be by himself.” Molly bent down and petted the dog.
“No kidding.” Logan angled toward her. “If you want to retract your invitation in view of the noise machine here, I’ll understand.”
“No. You won’t be here long.” Jeannette stepped aside to usher them in, shutting the door behind them while Toby continued to protest at full volume.
Molly made a beeline for the box on the floor in the corner and squatted down beside it. “Ooh! He got bigger!” She reached inside to pet the kitten.
“He is growing fast. I think he’ll be ready for solid food soon.” Jeannette joined her.
She could feel Logan behind her, his presence almost palpable as the subtle aroma of his musky aftershave swirled around her. And the warmth of his breath on her cheek as he leaned close to examine Button sent her pulse soaring.
“He seems to be thriving. You’re obviously taking excellent care of him.”
“Th-thanks.”
Oh, for pity’s sake.
She sounded like a besotted teenager, not a thirty-two-year-old woman who’d vowed to avoid romance.
“You’re paying a price for providing such diligent care, though.” Logan swept a finger under her lower lash, his touch as gentle as the wing of a butterfly. “There are some smudges here.”
Her lungs stuttered.
At this proximity, the silvery flecks in his blue irises shimmered like the sun dancing on the cobalt water of Hope Harbor. The faint web of lines at the corners of his eyes spoke of caring and compassion and laughter. Here and there in his sandy hair, a copper strand glinted in the early evening light beaming through the window. As for those generous lips—
Don’t go there, Jeannette.
She edged back. “Uh . . . I should be able to get more sleep soon. He won’t need as many feedings once he’s on solid food.”
“Can I pick him up, ’Nette?”
The perfect distraction.
She redirected her attention to Molly. “I’ll pick him up for you—but you can hold him. Why don’t you sit at the table?”
Keeping her back to Logan, she lifted the kitten and its blanket, cradling the bundle gently in her arms as she walked over to Molly and set Button in her lap.
As the girl began to stroke him, the kitte
n emitted a soft purr.
“He’s talking to me!”
“Yes, he is.” Jeannette sat beside her, and Logan claimed an adjacent chair. “I wonder what he’s saying?”
“Charley would know.” Molly continued to pet the cat. “He talks to animals—like Floyd and Gladys. Can we get tacos again, Uncle Logan?”
“I think that could be arranged.”
“Maybe we could have another picnic on the beach.”
“I like that idea.”
“You could come too, ’Nette.”
She snuffed out the surge of longing that swept over her at that notion.
No, she couldn’t.
Even this brief interlude was a mistake.
“I could think about that.” She stood. “I better get Button back in his box. He still likes to sleep away most of the day.”
Logan rose at once, carefully plucking the kitten and blanket out of Molly’s lap. “And we better get back to Toby or he’s going to get laryngitis.” He hesitated and arched his eyebrows, a spark of amusement putting a wicked gleam in his eyes. “On second thought . . .”
Despite herself, she chuckled. The man’s infectious good humor was hard to resist.
“No . . . we’ll suck it up and take him off your hands.” He deposited Button back in the box. “You’re welcome to join us for our walk.”
“Thanks—but I have to clean up from the tea and set up for another feeding.”
“Then we’ll get out of your hair. Come on, Molly.”
He hadn’t pushed.
A surge of disappointment welled up inside her, but she tamped it down. She should be glad he’d let it go. With her resistance at low ebb, she could have compounded her mistake by capitulating.
She walked them to the door. “Enjoy the beach.”
“It would be better if you came.” Molly linked her hands behind her and lifted her chin. “If you were there, I could pretend I had a mommy. You’d be a good mommy, ’Nette.”
Somehow she managed to dredge up a smile. “Thank you for saying that, honey.”
But the job came with too many risks.
She motioned to Toby, who’d stopped barking when she opened the door but had started up again. “Our beagle friend is getting impatient.”
“And Thomma isn’t here with his magic touch to quiet the beast.” Logan took Molly’s hand and slipped past her. “Thanks for letting us see Button. Keep up the great work.”