“But, Miss Renee,” Emma said, “you and Mr. Rhys are already grown up.”
“Don’t worry. I have that covered. My name is Miss Renee, and when I was in fifth grade, I collected fossils and wanted to be a paleontologist.”
“What are you now?” one of the boys asked as she placed the pile of books in front of Dylan.
It was the same question she’d been asking herself lately. The tableful of children eyed her, waiting.
“I was a missionary in Haiti. Now I’m a group leader for the Building Bridges program.”
“And a Sunday school teacher,” Emma said.
“Yes, Emma.” She might have to rein in Emma’s enthusiasm to give the other kids the opportunity to participate. “Dylan, you’re up.”
He lifted the top book from the pile and held it upright in front of him. “My name is Dylan Maddox, and I’m going into first grade. When I grow up, I want to drive a tow truck like Mr. Hill.” He pushed the pile of books at the boy next to him.
Renee bit her lip. Was Rhys’s son purposely goading him? As a family, they might have a larger gap to close than she—and she suspected Rhys, also—had thought they had.
The two boys seated between Dylan and Owen shared their information, then Owen took the remaining books. “I’m Owen Maddox, Dylan’s brother. I’m going into fourth grade and I’m going to be a racecar driver and then a racecar designer when I grow up. Your turn, Dad.”
“I’m Rhys Maddox. You can call me Mr. Rhys.”
“Not Daddy?” Dylan blurted.
“No, stu—”
Rhys stopped Owen with a dark look. “Dylan, you can call me Daddy.”
Melody pulled her thumb out of her mouth. “Can I call you Daddy? My daddy went away.”
Rhys looked at Renee with the desperation of a drowning man.
She smoothed Melody’s curls back from her face, her heart cracking. From the background the Action Coalition had provided about the little girl, she knew her mother’s National Guard unit had been deployed overseas and that Melody was staying with a grandmother she barely knew. A situation that wasn’t a lot different from Dylan and Rhys’s. “I think you should call him Mr. Rhys like I do.”
The thumb went back into her mouth and the crack in Renee’s heart widened.
“I can call him Mr. Rhys, too,” Dylan offered.
Renee answered Rhys’s pained stare with a forced smile. She patted Dylan’s hand. “That’s very nice of you, Dylan. It’s okay for you and Owen to call your father ‘Dad.’ The rest of us will call him Mr. Rhys.”
“Okay.”
Renee crossed her hands in front of her and looked down the table to Rhys. “Please, finish your introduction,” she said in her best Sunday-school-teacher voice.
He gave her his first true smile. “As Miss Renee said, I’m Mr. Rhys, and I install solar panels on roofs and do electric wiring. When I was in school, I wanted to be a gold medalist in swimming.”
Renee replayed the afternoon they’d met at the lake, including him making short work of cutting out to the middle of the lake. She’d wondered whether he’d swum competitively.
The next two boys introduced themselves and the second one passed the last journal to Melody. The little girl looked up at Renee, the uncertainty in her big blue eyes tugging at Renee’s heartstrings and causing her stomach to sink. It was only halfway through her first Bridges meeting and she was already too invested in the kids.
“Go ahead, sweetie.”
“I’m Melody,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I just started pre-K. And I don’t want to be a soldier when I grow up.”
Renee cleared her throat. “Thank you, Melody, everyone. Now if you’ll open the journals we passed around, you’ll find a letter to give to your parent.” She glanced sideways at Melody. “Or grandparent. It explains how we’re going to use the journals and asks for some ideas for things we can do as families. We’ll talk about that at our meeting next week.”
Dylan tugged at her shirtsleeve. “Doesn’t Daddy already know what we’re doing with the books?”
Rhys’s nod told her Pastor Connor must have filled him in. “Yes, he knows.”
“So do we give it to the Hills?”
She stopped herself from glancing at Rhys again. This was her meeting. She didn’t need to check with Rhys. Until CPS okayed unsupervised visitation, the Hills would be involved in any family outings. “Yes, give the note to Mrs. Hill. Now, everyone write his or her name in your journal while Mr. Rhys and I get the snacks. There are pencils in the holder in the middle of the table.”
As if she’d lowered a flag to signal the start of a race, the older boys lunged for the holder. But Rhys was faster. He held it up. “We’ll pass the pencils around.”
Renee smiled her thanks. She could see advantages to having him at the meetings. As she got up, Melody sniffed. She sat, journal open, pencil gripped in her little hand.
“I don’t know how to write my name.”
Serge, one of the older boys, snickered.
“Serge and I can get the snack.” Rhys’s voice made it clear he wasn’t making a suggestion. He directed the boy to the other table.
Renee wet her lips. Building Bridges’ policy on when and how to discipline had been part of the meeting Rhys had missed. She’d listen carefully to what Rhys said to Serge.
She took Melody’s hand in hers and wrote her name. “Thanks, Miss Renee.” Melody gave her a shy smile. “You’re pretty and smell nice, like my mommy when she’s not being a soldier.”
“Thank you.” Renee sensed Rhys behind her and turned. Before he handed her the plate of brownies, something flashed in his eyes that for a second melted the coldness they usually held.
Had he heard Melody? She began to melt, too.
“Serge will pass out the napkins, and I’ll pour the drinks,” he said, the look gone, as if it had never been there.
She took a brownie and placed one on a napkin for Melody before giving the plate to Dylan. What had she been thinking? The only softness she’d seen in Rhys was for his sons. Had Melody captivated him as much as the little girl had captivated her? If so, the firmness he’d showed with Serge—directing him to do something constructive without making a big deal about his rude behavior—along with how much he cared for the kids, could make Rhys the asset to the program Pastor Connor thought he’d be.
She took in the group, Rhys included, who were all wolfing down the snack. She’d have to institute the blessing at the next meeting.
Yes. She could handle working with Rhys. All she needed to do was to maintain some professional distance between them.
* * *
“Tough crowd,” Rhys said fifteen minutes later after the last of the kids had been picked up. The hour had been different from anything he’d experienced before.
“Can’t argue with that.” Renee scooped up the two journals left on the table. “I half expected Emma to ask her mother if she could bring you home with her.”
“She’s a pistol.” Rhys repositioned one of the chairs at the table. “If only Dylan were half as attached to me.”
“It’ll come with time,” Renee said in a tone Rhys had dubbed her social-worker voice, the voice she’d used at CPS when he’d asked her a question she couldn’t answer directly.
A dull weight settled in his chest. Their camaraderie from the meeting was over and Renee was retreating behind the barrier of her professional persona.
“Do you have a minute, or do you need to get home?” Renee asked, straightening the edges of the two books on the table.
“I have time. There’s nothing really to get home to.” He nudged the chair an inch farther under the table. That sounded pitiful.
Renee stepped toward him and he pulled out the chair for her.
“Thanks.”
She slid into it.
He folded himself into the one next to it and breathed in and out to prepare for what he expected to be constructive criticism. A light floral scent stopped him mid-exhale. Little Melody had been right. Miss Renee did smell nice. He tilted his chair back, away from her, to give himself some much-needed space.
“I want to talk about Serge,” she said.
Rhys froze. Here it comes.
“It wasn’t in the background material we got, but he didn’t want to be in the group. His mother told me. She’s a friend of my older sister’s.”
“Claire?”
Renee’s eyes darkened to almost black. “No. My oldest sister, Andie.” She waved her hand. “Anyway. You handled him well. You were firm and caring.”
“I’ll take that as a real compliment coming from a pro like you.”
Renee tipped her head to the side. If he’d sounded sarcastic or mocking, he hadn’t meant it that way. You can do this, Maddox. Don’t be intimidated. We’re all equal in God’s eyes. He looked her full in the face.
“We’re going to make you a pro, too.” Renee’s words sounded forced.
The only thing he was considering making at the moment was a quick getaway.
“You missed the Bridges’ behavior management training and strategies on discipline given at the volunteer orientation meeting.”
Rhys crossed his arms at his chest. He hadn’t intentionally skipped it; his job had been priority one.
“You should have that training. It will help you when you have Owen and Dylan.” Renee bit her lip as if she’d said too much.
Did she know something he didn’t? She was close friends with Suzi and still had her contacts at CPS.
Rhys lassoed in the buoyancy bubbling up inside him. More likely, the training would be during the workday again, and she was expecting resistance. Might as well clear the air. “I can’t take off work. Neal’s been more than accommodating with my leaving early on Thursdays for this.”
“I understand. We can do it in the evenings.”
Rhys uncrossed his arms. “You and me?”
Renee’s hand fluttered above the table before she pushed a nonexistent lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes. I mean, another facilitator and I are offering the training during evenings at the Action Coalition office in Elizabethtown.”
“Okay. Do you have the information about it?”
“I’ll email you the details. You can follow up online or by phone.”
“I’ll be on the lookout for it.” The training certainly couldn’t hurt. His role models for caring discipline had been few and far between.
“Good, that’s it.” Renee stood and gave him a smile that glued him to his seat.
He pushed away from the table. Two minutes ago, he’d been ready to bolt. No other woman had ever taken him on these choppy seas Renee continually had him navigating. Gwen certainly hadn’t. She’d been the calm center in his life. He twisted his mouth in confusion. Why was he thinking of Renee in comparison with Gwen?
“Did you have another question?” Renee asked.
He mentally grasped for something to cover his disorientation. “Are you going to the Twenty-/Thirtysomethings meeting tonight?”
“Didn’t you get the email?”
“I didn’t see it.” Rhys stood, gripping the chair back as if he needed the support. Because he hadn’t checked. He really needed to make an effort to do that more regularly when he had Wi-Fi access.
“Tonight is the championship race for the kids who participated in the summer session of Jared Donnelly’s motocross school. Half of the group’s members are either volunteering or have kids participating, and most of the others wanted to go. Jared and a couple of his former racing circuit buddies are going to do an exhibition. So Pastor Connor decided to cancel. His and Jared’s little sister is racing.”
“The one who’s Owen age?” Motocross seemed more like something for teenagers.
“Yep, Hope. Jared runs a racing program for kids, particularly at-risk kids. It’s based on tenets similar to those of the Big Brothers Big Sisters organization.” Her face lit up. “I can send you information on that, too, if you think Owen or Dylan would be interested.”
He jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. His sons weren’t “at risk.” He was making sure of that. They certainly didn’t need another big brother/father figure to confuse them. They’d had Jack Hill for the past few months, and now they had him. And he didn’t need Renee making him and his boys her pet project.
“Jared has a foundation that funds the program, and the Christian Action Committee helps, so it costs parents next to nothing.”
He curled his fingers. Had she just assumed he couldn’t afford the motocross school or had he become that easy to read? In his former life, his poker face had been his trademark asset. He pulled his hands from his pockets and flexed them. He had a good job now. Give him a month and he’d be able to upgrade his cell service and pay for motocross school if either of his boys was interested—and anything else they wanted or needed. He didn’t need charity.
Renee glanced at the clock on the wall. “Walk out with me. We finished later than I’d expected and I need to meet Claire at home.” Renee added, “Maybe get something to eat before we go to the race.” She flicked off the lights and headed out the door, seemingly sure he’d follow.
Her uncharacteristic friendliness halted Rhys’s step.
“You should come.”
He caught up with her, suppressing a lifelong desire to belong.
“I mean, meet us at the track, not for dinner.” Renee turned toward the door he’d closed behind them and locked it.
He knew what she’d meant, but that didn’t stop his disappointment. He had to stop picking up the mixed signals he knew Renee couldn’t be sending—they were only driving him crazy.
Renee checked the door. “It’s church policy to lock rooms that aren’t in use.”
He nodded. She’d felt the need to reassure him she wasn’t locking it against him? Apparently he’d lost his alligator hide, along with his poker face, at least when it came to her. “I’ll think about that, meeting the group.”
“Do that. It’ll be fun.”
He had been thinking he could use some spiritual support earlier. But he’d been envisioning something more Bible-based.
Renee’s phone rang. “It’s my grandmother. I should take it.”
“Sure.” Rhys left her to her call. What he should be thinking about was why he was considering going to the race. Why he’d want to walk voluntarily into the storm that any contact with Renee brought down on his emotions.
Chapter Five
A half hour later Renee strode up the sidewalk to her apartment, Rhys intruding on her thoughts. They’d worked well together with the kids. Things hadn’t gone as well once the kids had left, though. He didn’t intimidate her as he had when they’d first met at CPS, but he had a restlessness about him that put her on edge.
The heavy wooden door to the triplex stuck as it often did in hot, humid weather. Before school started, someone needed to clue Rhys in that the district used emails and texts to notify parents about school events and alert them to winter school delays and closings. She lifted her damp hair from her neck, yanked the door open and closed it with a bang. That someone wasn’t her. Her obligations to Rhys started and ended with the Bridges meetings and family events. Between the time her boss had told her Rhys would be working with the group and the meeting today, she’d mentally resolved any personal problems she might have had with him being her group volunteer. Renee blew a puff of air that ruffled her bangs. Next time she saw Suzi, she’d suggest Suzi talk with Rhys about email and the school.
“Who won, you or the door? I heard the bang and then you stomping up the stairs,” Claire greeted her.
“I did not. Stomp, that is.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Okay, I did.”
“Want to tell me about it? The kids give you trouble?”
Renee threw herself into the closest chair. “No, the kids were as good as I expected them to be. There’s the sweetest little four-year-old, Melody, who’s new to The Kids Place. She’s staying with her grandmother while her mother is deployed with her National Guard unit. I couldn’t place who her grandmother is. I need to ask Karen or Pastor Connor. And you wouldn’t—or maybe you would—believe how Emma Koch attached herself to Rhys. I thought she’d ask her mother if she could take Rhys home with her.”
“So that’s your problem—your helper.” Claire smirked.
Renee rubbed her temples. It was beyond her comprehension why she’d pressed him to come to the race tonight. Her long day must have taken more out of her than she’d thought.
“Hey, you’re not going to claim a headache and bail on me, are you? Leave me all alone with Andie?” Claire gave an exaggerated shudder.
“I thought your friend Nick was going to meet us there.”
“Right, I don’t want to be alone with Nick and our big sister. Andie is worse than Mom when it comes to male friends. You’d think I was one of her kids, by how she treats me.”
“Speaking of which, are the kids coming with Andie?”
“No, Robbie wanted to stay home. The twins are going to watch him while their father does the evening milking. Apparently the twins aren’t on Andie’s A-list this week, and she needs a girls’ night out.”
“Good, I’m not up for the cloud of fifteen-year-old drama that hangs over Aimee and Amelia,” Renee said.
“Have you eaten?” Claire asked.
“No, I thought we were going to get something on the way.”
Claire shrugged. “I had a sandwich. Remember, we need to swing by and pick up Andie.”
“And we’ll never hear the end of it if we’re late. I’ll get something at the racetrack. But I want to change before we go.” Renee eyed Claire’s waist-hugging cotton dress with its flared skirt. “A dress?”
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