Apparently, baking wasn’t the only gift Maggie had. She also had a knack for making people feel as if they were something special—even when they really weren’t.
He’d best remember that.
Audrey was studying him with an odd expression. “You connected with a child Ruby Sawyer couldn’t reach? That’s impressive.”
From the tone of the principal’s voice, impressive was polite code for unbelievable.
“Maggie’s reading too much into it. All I did was put a Band-Aid on the kid’s knee. I don’t know why he liked me.”
“But he did. That’s an encouraging sign, Neil. For both of you, maybe.” She paused, then added, “You know, after my husband died, my pastor suggested that I do some volunteering at the church. It was hard at first, getting out, interacting with people, but it did me a lot of good. Maggie,” Audrey called as Maggie swooped by the table, “are you still looking for help with the summer lunch program on Wednesday mornings?”
“Are you kidding? Between the school lunches and all the other events we’re catering, my summer schedule’s jam-packed. I’ll take all the help I can get. Are you offering?”
“Actually, I was thinking about Neil here. He’s at loose ends this summer and looking for something meaningful to do.”
“Oh!” Maggie’s and Neil’s eyes locked. For a second, she looked just as blindsided as he felt, but then she smiled. “If he’s got the time, that would be wonderful!”
Neil wasn’t sure wonderful was the right word. He had no idea what they were talking about. “What’s the summer lunch program?”
Before Audrey could answer, Maggie jumped in. “It’s a wonderful outreach. A huge percentage of our students here in Cedar Ridge qualify for free lunches, and for a lot of kids, that’s the only decent meal they get for the whole day. Audrey was concerned that they’d go hungry during the summer, so she started this program. The restaurants in town take turns donating bagged lunches every weekday, and we pass them out in the parking lot of the high school.” She smiled warmly at Audrey. “It’s a brilliant idea.”
“It’s an expensive idea,” Angelo grouched from the kitchen doorway. “I shoulda never let you talk me into it.”
“Oh, hush,” Maggie called back affectionately. “Angelo’s not nearly as hard-hearted as he’d like people to think. He’s buying fresh fruit for the kids out of his own pocket.”
“Stop telling people my business,” the old man bellowed.
Maggie blew a sassy raspberry in his direction, and Angelo made a face at her before disappearing into the kitchen.
Maggie turned her attention back to Neil. “I’ve got three hundred sandwiches to make next Wednesday morning, so I’d love some help. I start early, though. Six a.m. That’s a deal breaker for most folks.”
“Maggie, could we get our check?” one of the elderly ladies called. “We need to get to our book club meeting.”
“Coming,” Maggie responded, pulling her order pad out of her apron pocket.
Neil watched her go. Did the woman ever sit down? She seemed to have an inexhaustible energy.
“Neil?” His principal was looking at him earnestly. “Volunteering with Maggie could do you a world of good. If that girl can’t show you how to connect with people, nobody can. Plus, you’ll be interacting with a lot of your own students outside of the classroom. That might help you develop some rapport with them.” Audrey tilted her head. “What do you say?”
There was only one answer to that question, and it wasn’t just because he wanted back in Audrey’s good graces. Maybe he wasn’t the teacher he’d once been, but if his students were going hungry right under his nose, he wouldn’t sit on his hands and do nothing.
He wasn’t that far gone. Not quite.
“Sure, I’ll help.”
“Great!” Audrey smiled. “We’ll thaw the Iceman yet.” She scraped up the last bite of cake and rose. “I’ll be praying for you, Neil. I want you on my staff, but make no mistake. If I don’t see some difference in you over the course of the next school year, more enthusiasm, more connection with the kids...well.” She shook her head. “Let’s just say I’ll be facing a really tough decision.”
She was out the door before he could respond.
So that was that. Neil eyed the untasted cake sample on his plate. His conversation with Audrey had killed his appetite.
At some level, he’d known he was just going through the motions at school. When a swimmer was trying not to drown, he focused on getting air into his lungs one breath at a time. He didn’t worry much about whether his form was winning points with the judges.
But he hadn’t fully realized how low he’d sunk professionally until today. In the old days, he’d have been the one spearheading the summer lunch program, and now he hadn’t even noticed the problem until somebody else pointed it out.
He felt sick.
After Laura’s death, he’d clung doggedly to his profession, hoping eventually his passion for teaching would come back. In the meantime, at least the work filled up his dark, empty days. He’d known he wasn’t the teacher he’d once been, but he’d at least figured himself to be competent.
Obviously not.
Audrey was right. It was time to make a decision. Staying in the classroom wasn’t an option, not if this was the best he could do. If he’d lost his gift for teaching, he’d have to find another job. One that didn’t involve working with students.
A wave of sad weariness washed over him at the thought.
He’d always wanted to teach. Always. Now he was losing that on top of everything else.
“You’re going to hurt my feelings.”
Maggie stood beside him, holding a bakery box in her hands. She nodded toward his untouched cake.
“Oh.” He scooped up a mouthful.
He’d only meant to be polite, but there was something comforting about the rich sweetness. When he finished that bite, he forked up another one. Maggie cocked her head to one side, watching him. A smile tickled around her mouth, making her dimples play hide-and-seek in her cheeks.
“Good?” she asked him.
“Really good,” he answered honestly. “Best cake I’ve ever tasted.”
“Thanks.” The tickle of a smile turned into a broad one. “Just for that, your coffee’s on the house today.”
“Nobody gets free coffee.” Glowering, Angelo poked his head through the kitchen doorway.
“Take it out of my tips,” Maggie called without turning around.
“I’ll pay for it.” Neil set down his fork, intending to reach for his wallet, but Maggie shook her head.
“No, please. The coffee’s on me. And so are these.” She set the box on the table. “Snickerdoodles.”
His favorite cookies. He’d forgotten he’d told her that. “You didn’t have to—”
She nudged the box in his direction. “I know I didn’t have to, silly. I wanted to.”
“Well. Thanks.” He hesitated, but curiosity won out. “How are things going with Oliver? Have you seen any improvement?”
The sparkle in Maggie’s eyes dimmed. “Not really. After the way he acted with you the other day, I’d hoped to see some changes, but so far, nothing.”
That was pretty much what he’d expected to hear, but he found himself wishing things had turned out differently for her. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, I’m not giving up. Sooner or later, I’ll figure out how to reach him.”
She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself, and Neil searched his mind for something encouraging to say. Before he came up with anything, the bell suspended above the bakery door jingled.
Ruby walked in, ushering Oliver ahead of her. The little boy had a stony expression on his face, and he was doing his best to stay out of reach. Ruby looked tired, but she smiled and waved when she caught Neil’s eye.
�
��Look who’s here!” Maggie’s face lit up. “Hi, Ruby. Hello, sweetie. What perfect timing. I just took a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, and—”
Oliver glanced up sullenly, his expression shuttered. Then his eyes widened and a huge smile spread across his face.
Pulling away from Ruby, the toddler darted across the bakery, weaving through the scattered tables. Maggie dropped to her knees on the tiled floor, holding her arms out wide as Oliver made a beeline in her direction.
At the last minute, he veered to the left, skirting Maggie’s expectant arms and heading straight for Neil. Oliver halted in front of Neil’s chair, lifted his chubby hands and flexed his fingers urgently, his eyes pleading.
Neil heard Maggie’s sharp intake of breath and Ruby’s worried murmur from the doorway. “Oh, my.”
Neil looked uncertainly from Maggie to the little face peering hopefully up into his own. She gave him a quick nod as she rose slowly to her feet. Go ahead.
“Hi, Oliver. How are you doing, buddy?” Neil picked the toddler up under his armpits and settled the child on his lap. To him, the whole thing felt painfully awkward, but Oliver didn’t seem to agree. Sighing deeply, the tiny boy stuck his thumb in his mouth and laid his head contentedly against Neil’s chest.
Maggie looked down at them with a yearning expression, her face pale and her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry,” Neil said. “I don’t know why—”
“Please don’t apologize.” Scrubbing briskly at her eyes with the back of her hand, Maggie managed a wobbly smile. “It’s good,” she assured him in a whisper. “I wish it was me. But it’s good that it’s somebody, right? Thanks for being so nice to him. I really appreciate... Excuse me just a minute, okay?”
She turned away and hurried toward the kitchen. Angelo, his florid face somber and worried, stepped silently away from the doorway to let her pass and then closed the door gently behind her.
As Neil watched her go, his heart twisted hard inside his chest, and a longing rose up with so much power that he felt stunned.
For the first time in over three years, he desperately wanted to help another human being.
The problem was, he had no idea how.
Chapter Four
Early the following Wednesday morning, Maggie stood Oliver on a sturdy chair pulled up to the bakery’s stainless-steel work counter. The little boy stiffened and moved to the far edge of the chair’s seat. She took a step back, staying within arms’ reach but allowing him as much space as she could.
“Okay, sweetie!” she said brightly. “Ready to help me make some lunches?”
Oliver’s only response was to kneel and clamber off the chair. Maggie stifled a sigh. Well, it had been worth a try.
Oliver had woken up this morning as she’d been getting ready to come to the bakery, and she hadn’t liked the idea of leaving him behind. Ruby needed her sleep, and Maggie didn’t trust him not to slip off again.
Besides, working together was a good way to encourage bonding. Over the years, Maggie had seen Ruby use this tactic many times to get her kids to open up. In fact, she still pulled that particular stunt on occasion—and it usually worked. That was one reason Maggie was thrilled that Angelo had no problem with her bringing Oliver along to the bakery.
Unfortunately, so far she was still batting zero. She kept one eye on the toddler as she went to the cooler to get the large tub of chicken salad she’d made the day before. What she saw wasn’t encouraging. He’d backed as far away from Maggie as he could get. He was sucking his thumb, eyes downcast, his expression blank.
Her heart clenched. She knew that closed-off look. She’d felt it on her own face many times growing up, and she hated to think what would’ve happened if Ruby hadn’t broken through the self-protective walls Maggie had built.
Please, Lord, help Oliver to trust me. Help me find a way to—
A firm knock interrupted her silent prayer. “Maggie?” a male voice called from outside the latched back door. “Are you in there?”
Neil had arrived, and according to the big clock ticking on the wall, he was right on time. Six o’clock on the dot.
She smiled. He must have been able to find his keys today.
“Coming!” As she spoke, Oliver launched out of his corner, running toward the door. In a red-hot second, he was pulling frantically on the doorknob.
Maggie’s heart cracked a little more. The other day, when Oliver had bypassed her hug and thrown himself at Neil, she’d tried to focus on the blessing in it. She really had.
But it hadn’t been easy.
For one beautiful split second, she’d thought Oliver was running to her, that all her dreams and hopes were coming true. That instant of pure joy had only made the disappointment sharper.
“Just a minute, sweetie. I have to unlock it.” She disengaged the lock, gently shepherding Oliver backward so she could open the door. He shied away from her touch like always, but the minute the crack was wide enough, he wedged through.
The little boy threw himself at the man standing on the top step, wrapping his arms tightly around Neil’s knees. Thrown off balance, he grabbed for the doorjamb to steady himself and looked at Maggie, his expression bewildered.
She forced a smile. “Somebody’s glad to see you.”
Neil looked down at the child pressed against his khakis. “Hold this.” He passed Maggie a stainless-steel travel mug that smelled of coffee. Gently, Neil disentangled Oliver’s hands and knelt on the steps, looking into the toddler’s face.
“Hiya, kiddo. Are you going to be helping us today?”
The little boy nodded rapidly, and Neil smiled.
“Good! Sounds like we’ve got a lot of lunches to make, so I guess we’d better get to work, huh?” Neil scooped Oliver up, and the little boy relaxed against the man’s chest.
In spite of her best intentions, jealousy pricked her heart. She’d give anything for Oliver to nestle in her arms like that.
Maggie knew life rarely played fair. She’d cut her teeth on that unpleasant nugget of truth. Still, it seemed wrong for a virtual stranger to get this reaction, when she’d tried so hard and gotten nowhere.
She’d talked out her frustration with Ruby the other night over mugs of cocoa in the farmhouse kitchen.
What’s he doing that I’m not? Maggie had asked despairingly. Oliver barely knows him, and you have to admit Neil Hamilton isn’t a warm and fuzzy kind of guy.
Oh, honey, who knows? Ruby had shaken her head. Maybe Neil don’t come across as the friendliest fellow, but something about him sure speaks to our Oliver. We just got to figure out what it is.
“Maggie?”
“Hmm?” She glanced up to find Neil studying her.
“Hadn’t we better get started?”
“Oh.” Maggie blinked. “Yes, we should. Come on in, and I’ll show you the ropes.” She waved toward the bakery’s spotless food-prep area.
Neil paused to close the door, juggling Oliver clumsily in his arms. “Do I need to lock this again?”
“No, that’s all right. Angelo grew up in a rough neighborhood, and he worries, the softhearted goof. He makes me lock it when I’m here by myself. But now that you’re here, it’s fine.” Neil gave off a brainy vibe, but he also had a set of don’t-mess-with-me shoulders going on. Even Angelo wouldn’t worry about her safety with Neil around.
She went to the counter, motioning for Neil to follow. He did, and when he noticed the chair she’d pulled up, he set Oliver on it. Maggie’s stomach twinged when the boy scooted to the edge again, this time to press closer to Neil’s side.
Neil was frowning. “What’s he like to work for?”
“Angelo? He’s a great boss. Here.” She set his coffee mug in front of him, then slid over the tub of chicken salad. “You fill the sandwiches. They’re the heaviest thing in the lunch,
so they’ll go in the bottom of the bag.”
“He seems to yell at you a lot.”
Maggie went to retrieve the first of three large plastic containers full of croissants. “Oh, he doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s like how he fusses about donating food to all these summer outreaches. He’s really the most generous man alive. He gave me my first job back when I was fifteen, and he’s always paid me over scale. And he’s been a gem about letting me bring Oliver along to work, too. Angelo blusters, but deep down, he’s a big old ball of mush.” She snapped off the lid, and the comforting odor of buttery bread wafted upward, making her heart do a tiny leap of happiness.
She did appreciate good food.
“You’re using croissants?” Neil sounded incredulous.
“Today we are. Last time we had pita bread stuffed with shaved ham and mozzarella.” She handed him a box of plastic gloves. “I’ll slice the croissants, and you can fill them and stick them in the baggies. Then we put them in the lunch sack. We’ll add pretzels, then a cookie and a napkin, and we’ll store the bags in the coolers.” She nodded toward the insulated containers lined against the wall as she picked up a serrated knife. “There’s no separate fruit today because Angelo insisted on adding plenty of grapes and pecans to the salad. ‘Those kids’ll eat more fruit if you mix it with the good stuff.’” She mimicked Angelo’s gruff growl. “He’s right, too,” she admitted. “Of course, adding those ingredients made the chicken salad three times as expensive. Like I told you, big ball of mush.”
She passed him a sliced croissant and watched as he glopped the chunky salad over the bread. “We won’t add mayo because it’s already in the salad, and we don’t want them getting soggy. No, put a little more. That’s it. There’s a sweet spot between not enough and so much that the sandwich explodes.” She nodded as he awkwardly stuffed the filled croissant into a flimsy baggie. “There you go. Now, just do that two hundred and ninety-nine more times.”
She was rewarded with a wry smile as he tackled the next croissant. “Messy job,” he observed. “Wouldn’t something like ham and cheese be easier?”
Lost and Found Faith Page 5