Gabe chuckled. “Here, I’ll show you.” He led the way to the aisle where the packages were arrayed in all their flavors.
Mark picked up a tube and turned it over. “Weird. Like puffed rice cereal stuck together with… what?”
“Different things. This one has cheese. That one has a kind of caramel sauce.” But it was a good question. What did hold together the plain ones?
The boy’s eyes brightened. “I like sweet stuff. Do they taste good?”
“Not really.”
“Uh…” Mark handed the package to Gabe. “Then why do you sell them?”
“Because some other people think so, and they come here to buy them.” Gabe could only hope he hadn’t just placed an order for plain when Mrs. Bowerchuk died. No one else bought the things.
“Weird.” Mark’s gaze took in nearby products. “I haven’t seen this kind of macaroni before. Who’s Cora?”
“It’s an organic brand. It doesn’t have colored dyes in it, or a bunch of chemicals. The packet of cheese included really is cheese.”
Mark continued to question him about a bunch of other products in that aisle, like he was interested. But what twelve-year-old boy actually cared about this kind of stuff? Gabe sure hadn’t, and there had been no reason in Sunday school to think Mark was anything but a mouthier-than-average tween who sought the other kids’ attention. He’d kept glancing around the group after every comment to judge reactions.
Wait a minute. Where was Austin?
Gabe knew he shouldn’t have started playing CDs in the store. Even on low volume, they muffled other sounds.
He set the box back on the shelf and strode to the end of the aisle then looked both ways.
Austin stood in front of the candy, hands in his slightly bulging pockets. The boy seemed startled to see him.
“Whatcha got in your pockets, Austin?”
The kid’s eyes narrowed. “My hands.”
“Take them out.”
The hands slowly withdrew. A bulge was still visible. “Turn your pockets inside out, please.”
“I don’t have to.” The boy started for the exit.
Gabe stepped in front of the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “If there isn’t anything in them I’d have a problem with, then why the reluctance?”
“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
Gabe grinned. “I haven’t accused you of anything. I simply would like to see the insides of your pockets.” It was hard to maintain his casual pose. In five years running the store, he’d never once suspected a shoplifter. Except for the time he’d found some empty packaging, but whoever had done that had been long gone before Gabe noticed anything amiss.
Mark came into view at the end of the aisle where they’d been talking.
Accomplices? Almost certainly. “How about you, Mark? Are you willing to show me what’s inside your pockets?”
The two boys exchanged a glance. Mark patted the front of his jeans. They were smooth.
So Mark’s job had been simply to keep Gabe occupied. Figured. Now what was he supposed to do? He hadn’t caught the kid secreting anything, but evidence was stacked against him. Still, did Gabe know for certain the boy’s pockets had been flat when he came in? If he didn’t have anything to hide, though, Austin would probably be willing to show him the contents.
God? I could use an idea here.
Gabe pushed off the door and strolled toward the healthy junk food aisle. “You know what? I’d like to give you guys a gift. Why don’t you come over here and pick out a few snacks you’d like to try? Say, maybe five or even ten dollars’ worth for each of you?”
Mark’s mouth dropped open.
Gabe gestured to Austin. “Come here. It’s on me.”
The kid glanced at the door. He might make a run for it yet.
“Oh, don’t leave before you get your gift, Austin. Unless you’re happy with what’s in your pockets now. I wasn’t sure if you’d prefer to try some of the chips, or another bulkier item.” Gabe winked at Mark. “Or maybe rice cakes.”
“R-rice cakes?” Austin glanced from Gabe to Mark.
Mark’s eyebrows pulled together. “I don’t get why you’re doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“You obviously suspect him of stealing.”
“Is it that easy to tell?” Suddenly Gabe was enjoying himself. “But hey, I suspect you of collusion.”
“Of what?”
“Keeping me occupied so I wouldn’t notice. I bet you guys agreed to share whatever he nabbed.”
Austin’s chin came up. “Who says I took anything?”
Gabe grinned. “Nobody. I’m offering you a gift. You can keep what’s in your pockets, or you can trade it in for something different if you like. Totally up to you.”
“So you’re not gonna stop me leaving this store?”
Gabe swept a bow toward the exit. “Go for it.”
Austin took a couple of steps then bolted. A moment later the door jangled behind him. Hopefully he didn’t have much more than the ten bucks’ worth Gabe had offered him.
“I don’t get you.” Mark looked at him, head angled to one side.
“Why not?”
“You coulda had him there.”
“Maybe.”
The boy shook his head.
“Look, will Austin think twice about coming in here and pinching things again?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Will he think twice about doing it elsewhere?” Because it was unlikely Gabe had been selected as the one and only target.
“Maybe.”
“How about you?”
Mark straightened. “What about me?”
“Were you in on the scheme, or really interested in rice cakes?”
“Uh…”
“You can take a few packages home if you want. Or pick something else. What’s your fancy?”
“My what?”
“Your fancy. What do you want for a snack?”
“Are you really going to give me something?”
Gabe shrugged. “Just said I would, didn’t I?”
“But why?”
“Look, there are lots of things more important in life than a few dollars’ worth of food. One of them is relationships. I’m gonna be you guys’ Sunday school teacher for a while, and I want you to know you can trust me. I care about what happens to you. Coming down hard might bring some justice, but I don’t think it would help you or Austin trust me, would it?”
“Weird.”
“Maybe. Now, want some rice cakes?”
Chapter 22
A soft rap sounded against Sierra’s door. For a second she waited for Jo or Claire to simply stroll in, but no one did. Who could it be, then? Doreen? But they’d done the bee venom therapy the day before. Doreen hadn’t reacted badly to any of them since the first.
Sierra set her mug of mocha on the side table next to her open Bible and walked to the door. Thankfully she’d bothered to get showered and dressed today. Unlike yesterday.
She pulled the door open.
Gabe stood outside, his hand poised to knock again.
Man, he looked good. Relaxed. Jeans and a fleece jacket to counteract the crisp November air, which smelled of snow.
“Sierra? You okay?” Gabe stepped nearer, and Old Spice pushed the snow scent away.
“Gabe!”
He enfolded her in his arms.
For a second, she relaxed against him, breathing him in, feeling safe. Wanted. Loved.
She pushed away gently. “Come on in.” What else could she say? She’d fill her eyes and heart with him now, while she could. Before she had to walk away and hurt him. She’d hurt him either way. There was no easy path through this one.
Gabe followed her into her little home and glanced around.
Hadn’t he been in here before? Probably not. She smiled up at him. Later was soon enough for the pain. “Welcome to my humble abode.” She swept her hand to indicate the space.
What did he see?
Concrete floors, etched in a deep golden brown, peeked between several turquoise throw rugs, and the pine cupboard in her kitchenette had been stained a lighter version. The walls were honey except for the purple feature wall across from the door.
Her cheeks warmed. Would he notice the common palette with his own apartment?
He slid his arm around her and winked. “Hmm, I wonder why this place seems so homey to me. Maybe it’s the colors?”
“Maybe. But Jo picked yours, and they’re a few shades different.” She stepped out of his embrace. “Would you like some coffee? Or I could fix you a cup of mocha. I was just sitting down with mine.” She indicated her steaming mug.
“Mocha? Sounds good. I didn’t even know you could make that at home.”
Sierra reached in the cupboard for a mug. When she turned around, he was right there, like he belonged. Too close. “Excuse me,” she whispered as she stepped around him to the coffee pot.
He peered over her shoulder, his presence warming her back while chilling her heart. How could she let this man go? But it wouldn’t be her choice. It would be his, as soon as he knew. Was today the day to talk about it? No. She needed the rest of her facts. In a few days. Soon.
“It’s not exactly like a coffee shop, but I like to control the quality of my ingredients. Plus, I can’t afford five bucks every day.” Or double, if she wished to indulge in a second cup. “To say nothing of driving to town for it.”
“Right.” He watched her spoon in honey and add a pinch of salt and a dash of cinnamon. Then she put in a rounded teaspoon of cocoa.
“I recognize that can!”
“Yep, I buy my organic fair trade cocoa at Nature’s Pantry.” She stirred then opened her under-counter fridge to add a good slosh of cream. She handed the mug to Gabe. “Give that a try. I can add more honey if you like.”
Gabe inhaled the fragrance. “Smells great.” He took a sip. “That’s really good. I’d probably go with a bit less sweetener if I were making it myself, but I’m surprised how full the flavor is this way.”
And she’d given him only half as much as in her cup. Her cheeks flushed. Claire always teased her about how much she used. “It’s the salt that rounds out the taste. Everything we buy ready-made is loaded with sodium, even something like hot chocolate mix, which I might use for this in a pinch. So adding a controlled amount helps it taste normal.”
He settled himself in the loveseat, but Sierra tucked into her favorite chair around the corner from him. Hey, it’s where her drink was.
Gabe looked about to say something several times but stopped himself.
She couldn’t come up with a good starter, either. All that came to mind were things she wasn’t ready to mention.
Finally he took a sip of his mocha and set it on the side table between them. “Did you and Doreen ever have much trouble with shoplifters in the store?”
Sierra blinked. So not what she expected to talk about, but a welcome diversion. She pulled her features into a studied frown. “No, I can’t say we did. Occasionally our count on a product would be low or we’d find an empty package, but it was never anything pricey. And it happened rarely.”
“I had a couple of boys from my Sunday school class come into the store today.” He gave a wry grin. “Did you know that Tyrell Burke handed it off to me as though he couldn’t wait to be rid of it?”
She hadn’t followed that. “Handed what off?”
“The junior youth class.”
“Oh.” In the months Tyrell had been in charge, he’d often needed a substitute. She’d managed to avoid being tagged for that hormone-driven bunch. “That used to be your class, didn’t it?”
“Well, yes. But he didn’t really ask if I wanted it back. He just dropped off the material.”
That sounded like Tyrell. Always assuming and moving forward. It wasn’t an altogether bad trait, though. Some people could never make up their minds. Her conscience bit. Some people like her.
When she focused back on Gabe’s face, he averted his eyes and sighed deeply.
“Some of the kids came into Nature’s Pantry?” Seemed like a better conversation than talking about Tyrell to Gabe.
“Right. Mark Kestrel and Austin Sharp. They’d planned this thing whereby Mark would keep me busy in one aisle while Austin stuffed candy in his pockets.”
“Oh, no. But you caught them?”
Gabe grimaced. “Kind of. Short of frisking Austin or calling the police, I don’t have solid proof.”
“Probably wouldn’t have gone over so well.”
“No, that’s what I figured. Even with Sharp standing there with bulging pockets and a guilty face, and Kestrel not looking any too innocent himself.”
What would she have done if that had happened when she was at the store? She shuddered. Thankfully, it hadn’t.
“So, I prayed.” Gabe grinned. “And then I had this great idea.” He told her what he’d done.
“Genius!” Sierra nodded in approval. “Great thinking.”
“Yeah, I believe God really came through for me on that one.” He smoothed Sierra’s open Bible. “Where are you reading these days?”
“Psalms.” Where David talked about the anguish of having so many enemies. Also not a topic to discuss with Gabe. “Austin Sharp comes from a good home, from what I know. I wonder what makes a kid do that kind of thing?”
Gabe shrugged. “It’s not uncommon. Which definitely doesn’t mean it’s okay to experiment. The Kestrel boys haven’t had it so easy, though. Dustin was a handful when he was that age, too.”
“Dustin Kestrel? That name sounds familiar. I think he was involved in a drug bust a year or so ago.”
“Oh, man. Those poor kids.”
Sierra blinked. “Poor kids? They’ve made their choices, don’t you think?”
“They haven’t had the greatest example at home, though. Seems like their dad just lets them run wild. He’s got a bit of a record himself. I’m impressed those kids come to church at all.”
Oh. Obviously Gabe knew a whole lot more about the family than she did, even if he’d been away for three years. “Sounds rough.”
Gabe’s grin slid to one side and he shook his head. “Lots of kids struggle. From orphans in Romania to street urchins in Manila to kids shuffled from parent to parent here. Solid homes are rare. Moms and dads both present. Love. Education. Boundaries.” He smoothed her Bible’s pages again. “God’s word. Prayer.”
Sierra’s gut clenched. How had they gotten back to this topic? “There are kids in slavery, too. I’ve always bought fair-trade cocoa since I heard how kids in the Ivory Coast are sold to work on the cocoa plantations there. That way I can be sure my dollars support good living conditions and education.”
“I’ve heard that about Africa, too. And that the big chocolate companies know it and don’t care, because they don’t want the price of their ingredients to go up.”
“Yeah. It makes me really mad. Not that they notice the few people who boycott their stuff.”
“It’s hard to know what to do about a situation like that.” Gabe took another swallow of his mocha. “Kids here in Galena Landing, though. We can help with that.”
Her mouth dried and her heart sped up. “Oh? Like what?”
“Starting with my Sunday school class. Not sure how, yet, but I’ll think of something.”
* * *
Gabe pulled Sierra close as he stood in the doorway of her duplex, ready to leave. She came willingly enough, but didn’t relax against him. He rubbed her back and nuzzled into her neck.
Was she trembling?
“Hey, Sierra, what’s wrong?”
Something had to be. Today had been a guarded chat between almost-friends, like they’d been weeks ago. They’d progressed since then. Hadn’t they? Surely he hadn’t made up memories of their kisses and harmony the night of their date.
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
Alarm bells rang in Gabe’s head. He hadn’t done everything right in his marriage to Bethany. He knew that. But when a woman said it was nothing, it was a cry for help every single time.
“Is it something I said?” His mind roved over conversations before things had gone sour. A week ago. He couldn’t put a finger on anything.
“No, really. Everything’s fine.”
He tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her face. Her eyes caught on his for an instant before she looked away. He swept both hands through her hair — oh, the glory of it! Long and full and silky — and cradled her face. “Sierra.”
She smiled, but it seemed tremulous.
He bent and kissed her lips, gently, then with hunger. At first they lay passive beneath his, but it didn’t take long for her to return the passion he felt soaring through him. “Sierra,” he murmured again. It was like a man thirsting in the desert and coming at long last upon an oasis. It was like a man living in a slow motion, black-and-white world and suddenly finding himself in a colorful action flick. It was like a man falling in love. Again.
Her arms tightened around him as her lips and body responded to his.
How long did it take to know he’d fallen in love? That he’d met the woman who would be at his side for the rest of their lives? They might not make it to a hundred. Experience had taught him that. But what time he had, he needed to spend it with Sierra. She’d been created for him.
He held her face in his hands and looked deep into her blue eyes from a mere inch or two away.
She bit her lip.
He kissed it gently. If only he could kiss everything better, all the time. Maybe he could. “Sierra, I love you.”
She pulled away, right out of his hands, which dropped slowly to his sides. She took a step back, then another, her head shaking from side to side. Her arm came up to wipe tears from her face. Tears?
“What is it, sweetheart? Am I pushing you? I don’t mean to.” But hadn’t it been mutual? If anything, she’d been ready for him when he came home from Romania. It had taken longer for him to see who she really was.
He was thirty. He’d known the joys of marriage. How long was he supposed to wait to declare himself? He hadn’t misread the signs. He hadn’t. And yet, this past week, she’d been avoiding him. Why? And why wouldn’t she say?
A Farm Fresh Romance Series 1-3 (A Farm Fresh Romance Box Set) Page 68