He sent a grin to Pedro. “Finished the first part.”
Pedro’s smile showed white against his dark skin. “Si, but tomorrow we roll out the fencing.”
“Tomorrow, yes, but we’re finished for today, thanks to your help. The maintenance around the church is becoming tougher each year.”
Pedro’s smile held as he picked up the bags from the dry concrete and then the large bucket. John began to gather up tools, also. With two working, the job had progressed faster than he’d anticipated.
John heard someone call and shifted to see two men come from the wooded lot next to the house. Pedro grunted. John lifted a brow. The same two men who’d sat on the stools watching Sharee and the other women the day after the hurricane.
His jaw tightened. “They’re still here?”
Pedro nodded. “They didn’t come back to the camp. We thought they’d moved on.”
He studied them, the body builder in sharp contrast to the other man. Pedro nodded at them in greeting.
“You got any work around here?” The thin one asked, giving a quick smile.
“You want work?” Pedro asked. “Good time to come when we begin to put everything away.”
John’s eyes slid to Pedro and then back to the two men. “If you’re serious about work, come to the church tomorrow, to the office, and talk with the Pastor.”
“Okay. Nothing else today?”
“Pedro put it well.”
“Your wife? She’s not home? She fixed a good meal the other day.”
“My wife is not hiring. The Pastor does that.” He fought with his impatience. God’s love extended to all, not just those with whom he felt comfortable. “There’s food and new tents, I heard, at the homeless camp where you were. I can take you there in about half an hour if you want. Just hang around. I need to finish putting everything away.” He started to turn but added, “My house is off limits today.”
The taller of the two men smirked but said nothing. The other gave his quick smile. “Off limits, huh? Guess she surprised you with all the people before. Gotta admit, she was generous.”
“In half an hour.” John hefted the tools and walked away. He heard Pedro following. John unlocked the work building, flipped on the lights, and began putting away the tools. “What’s the scoop on them?” he asked over his shoulder.
“I got no scoop.” The sound of Pedro hanging the shovels in their clips added to his mutter. “Warren’s been around for years. That’s the thin one. He likes the streets. Not looking to get off. He has money sometimes.”
John turned. “Does he? Odd jobs?”
Pedro shook his head, shrugged his shoulders. “The other—his name is Afton—showed up last week, moved in with Warren. They’ve got some history together. I think I see him before. We thought they’d gone, hermano. Moved on. But they’re still here.”
“Yeah. Right here. Right next to my house.” He shoved a drawer closed.
A smile stretched Pedro’s face. “And next to Sharee? Your wife does have a generous heart, mi amigo. She’s given me a ride many times and food. Bus cards, too. She does much for the homeless.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not happy about that?”
“It’s not her heart or the fact that she helps. It’s because she puts herself in danger.” He picked his words with care. “I don’t like her picking up hitchhikers.”
“I will remember that.”
John shook his head. “Pedro, I don’t mind her giving you a ride. I trust you.” He glanced past him to the window above the workbench, “But those two out there, no.”
Pedro followed his gaze. “You might have to tell her that, my friend.”
He watched the body builder turn toward their house and stand staring at it. “Again, you mean. I might have to tell her again.”
***
Lynn sat back, closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the deli—the clattering of plates, the white noise of continuous conversation. She inhaled the smell of risen bread and garlic salami and matzo ball soup, using the scents like a drug. Her head rested against the cool plastic of the one-sided booth. The Lucky Dill contained all she needed for a restful, rejuvenating lunch. So far, the workday had proved more stressful than usual, and she was starved.
“There must be better places to sleep.”
Lynn’s eyes flew open. She straightened and glanced across the table. Detective Richards stood, eyeing her, his hand resting on the back of a chair.
“Oh, Detective…”
“May I sit down?”
She straightened. No. Go away. I want to be alone. He hesitated, but then pulled the chair back and sat.
Lynn frowned. “I wasn’t asleep, but I was enjoying…the solitude.”
A slight movement of his head was the only indication that he’d heard what she said. He smiled. “Are you the type of person who can sleep anywhere?”
“I’m really not in the mood for an interrogation, Detective.”
“I was thinking of lunch, Ms. Stapleton, not an interrogation.” He picked up a roll from the basket in front of her and broke it in half. “They have great food here.”
She stared as he began to munch on the roll. What was he doing? Was he going to stay? “Uh, Detective Richards, I’m…I’m meeting someone.”
“Will I run him off?”
“Probably. So, if you don’t mind… “
“I guess I didn’t interrupt your nap then. Is this person you’re meeting someone special, a date or just a friend?”
She glared at him. “That, Detective, is…”
“Rich.”
“What?”
“It’s Rich. Rich Richards.”
“You’re kidding.”
He shook his head. “No understanding parents.” He munched on the second half of the roll.
She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Are you always this pushy?”
A wry smile. “That’s better than the other adjectives I’ve heard.”
“What do you want?”
“I enjoyed looking at you.”
She clenched her jaw. “Look, I really don’t…”
“You looked so relaxed with your head back, hands folded in your lap. I need to learn to relax like that.”
“Oh.”
“Are you ready to order?” A server asked, stepping forward.
“Yes.” Rich sent her an amused glance. “I think we are. I’ll take a plate of corned beef, potatoes, and carrots. Oh, and cornbread with it.” His gaze went to Lynn. “What will you have?”
“I told you I was meeting someone.”
“I assumed from the way you said it that it was a lie.”
Lynn felt her teeth grate. “I don’t think I’m hungry.”
Rich stared at her a minute then looked up at the waitress. “You have that Mediterranean Salad on special today? Bring that. I’m sure she’ll love it.” He looked at Lynn. “What would you like to drink?” When she said nothing, he ordered iced tea, unsweetened.
As the waitress walked away, Lynn rose from her seat and picked up the Coach purse beside her. Pushy was not the word for the man. Aggressive. Overbearing. Arrogant.
He touched her hand, but she snatched it away. “If you’re meeting someone, I’ll find another table.”
“You were right. That was a lie. I’m not meeting anyone, but I’m not eating with you either.”
“Why? Afraid you’ll say something you shouldn’t?”
“What?” Her voice rose. “Where do you get off…”
“You know, that whole line you gave us yesterday was unbelievable.”
Lynn sat back down, leaned forward, and hissed at him. “That was the truth. You obviously can’t tell the truth from a lie.”
“And you lie with such ease.”
“I do not!” His grin sent flames jumping inside her.
“No? Then tell me the truth about the other day—why you went out to a homeless camp in a hurricane.”
“I told you already, and it was the day
before Bella hit.”
“You had one conversation with this woman, and you were so concerned about her that you were willing to drive through a hurricane, risk your life, wade through mud and muck to find her and take her to a shelter or a hotel. If she was even there.”
“I knew her better than that.”
“You want to explain?”
“There’s nothing to explain. We just clicked. The day she came to the ministry’s office, I happened to be there. She unloaded on Sharee, on both of us actually and she…” Lynn stopped for a minute, a picture of Victoria rising before her. Pain circled her heart. Her voice softened. “I saw her several times after that. In spite of her circumstances, she could laugh and joke. She had courage. She was intelligent. It hit me wrong that a woman like that had to give up everything because some man threatened to kill her, and the only thing law enforcement could do was pick him up after the fact.” She sat back and glared. “What good is that?”
“Did she have a restraining order against him?”
“Of course. Not that it did any good. He stalked her and showed up at work, threatening her, and she realized she needed to do something desperate.”
“So she decided to become homeless? That is desperate. Why didn’t she go to the local women’s shelter?”
“Her husband had a friend in the police department that fed him information. So, you can see why I think…” She stopped but started again in a different voice. “Victoria was a friend.” She dropped her head and studied her hands, drawing in the clattering of dishes and the smell of fresh baked bread, anything to keep back the emotion.
Neither spoke for a while. Snippets of other conversations came their way—everyday concerns that had nothing to do with violent or sudden death.
The detective took another roll. “Okay. You run defense for Representative McCloud, don’t you?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Isn’t that girl he’s carting to civic meetings lately homeless?”
Lynn frowned. “She was.”
“Ah. But not anymore? Thanks to Representative McCloud.”
“Look. Just because something’s in the news, doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“So, he’s not having an affair with her?”
“No, he’s not. In fact, I’ve had more contact with her than he has. And when they accused him of driving her home at midnight, I was in the car, too. Funny how they forgot that fact.” Lynn knew sarcasm edged her voice. When he said nothing, she added, “And no, I am not in love with him, so just drop your antenna.”
His grin caught her off guard. He ran a hand through his black hair. “It’s not easy being in law enforcement.”
“No?”
“No.”
They both pulled away as the server set the plates before them. “Anything else I can do for you?” the woman asked.
Lynn glowered across the table at him but shook her head.
“This is excellent. Thank you.” Richards held Lynn’s gaze. When the woman walked away, he leaned forward. “For instance, right now I’d just like to have lunch with a pretty woman and talk about other things.”
“Flattery and that appeal to my compassion will get you nowhere,” she said.
“I’m buying lunch,” he said, “and you’ll love the salad.”
Lynn scowled but looked down at the salad. A thick pita, spread with what looked like hummus, topped with finely chopped veggies and chicken made an appetizing presentation. Her stomach reminded her how hungry she was. She lifted her gaze to his.
His face was hopeful. She shook her head. “You’re more con artist than cop.”
He nodded at the food. “Try it.”
“Since you’re buying…”
“Ah. A woman with an economic component.” He glanced down at his plate of corn beef and cabbage and picked up a knife and fork. “Now this, this will be great, too.”
Lynn lifted her fork, raised a silent prayer to God, and began to eat.
Chapter 7
Sharee sat in the chair with John as he searched the Internet. His arms moved on either side of her as he typed. She should be working on the upcoming banquet today, but the fundraiser could wait. Downtown Ministries could not claim all her time. She unwrapped a soft peppermint and put it in her mouth. Google Earth appeared on the screen.
“What are you looking for?” She asked around the peppermint.
“Just wanted to fly over Indonesia.”
“Where will we be going?”
“To Medan, in Sumatra, and then the islands off there. At least, that’s what I know now.”
She nibbled on his ear, and his head moved her way, brows rising. His hands slid from the keyboard.
“No. No.” She laughed and pointed. “Zoom down to Padang.” He clicked on a small figure, and the ground and the sea zipped up at them. “What are those little islands off the coast?”
“The Mentawai Islands. They’re remote, no commercial flights there—lots of coastal villages, jungles.”
She pointed to another area. “And the large island is Sumatra?”
“Yes.”
“But no idea when we’ll go?”
“The Lord will let us know.”
She turned her head. “I can’t wait.”
“I know. You’ll love the people, the villages, the ministry.”
“You were so excited when you came back last time.”
He squeezed her. “Because I wanted you to return with me.”
She leaned her head back against his chest. “I know. I’m going. We’re going. Together.”
“Yes.”
“You’re ready?”
“To fly, you mean? The training was extensive. More than I thought. You know that. Safety is a big issue, and they hit that hard. I’m as ready as they can make me.”
She slid off his lap. “I know you’ve flown since you were fifteen, I just, well…I know this is different.”
“Short, bumpy runways, rough take-offs and landings, but God’s given me peace about it.”
“Good.” She looked at him, holding her breath.
“What?”
“I…I need a shower.”
He lifted a brow, nodded and waited. When she said nothing, he asked, “Shall we run to the beach after lunch?”
Sharee bit her lip. No, it’s the wrong time. Wait. “Okay. I’d like that.”
She felt his eyes on her as she made her way across the living room and glanced back.
“Need someone to scrub your back?” he asked.
Sharee shook her head, amused. “Not this time. You did mention you were hungry.”
“I did.” His mouth twitched. “Should I start something?”
“No, thank you. Throwing out the chopped vegetables was enough help today.”
When she finished her shower, she combed through her wet hair, ruffled it with her fingers, and threw on the silk robe he’d bought her on their honeymoon. When she stepped into the kitchen, she stared at the counter. Empty, again.
What had he done now? Her eyes narrowed. It better not be the dog. She pulled the refrigerator door open and saw the chicken on the shelf.
“You put the chicken back?” As she took it out, she could feel its icy hardness. “I was defrosting it.”
“Oh.” He stepped into the doorway.
“Oh? Is that all you can say? You know I’m trying to fix lunch, and you threw out the chopped onions and tomatoes earlier.”
“I explained. I thought you’d left them to throw out.”
She cut across him, “Why would I throw out perfectly good veggies? And now you’ve put the chicken back?”
“You were in the shower. I thought…”
“Don’t you know when chicken is defrosting?” She swung the kitchen towel at him. “Get out of my kitchen! Git!”
He backed toward the door. “You sound like my mother.”
“What?” Her voice rose. Had he really said that? “Like your mother?”
Fuming
, she advanced on him. He backed all the way through the doorway. “But you don’t look like her. Not at all.” The words came in a rush. “You’re gorgeous, and I love you.”
“Like your mother! I can’t believe you actually said that!”
The dog circled them. He backed into the living room. “Gorgeous,” he repeated. “And I promise not to throw anything out again. Ever.”
She glared up at his six-foot-two from her five-foot-two, and the absurdity of their positions hit her. She bit her lip before she laughed, but she wasn’t going to let him get away with this. She poked his chest with her finger. “You better not.”
His eyes suddenly backlit with amusement as if he’d read her thought, and he pulled her into his arms.
“Let go!” She struggled against his hold.
“Uh-uh. Not yet.” He kissed her forehead.
“Don’t think you can weasel out of this.”
“Say you forgive me.”
She quit fighting and gave him a belligerent stare.
He kissed her forehead again, then the corner of her eye, the corner of her mouth. “Say you forgive me.”
“No.”
He kissed her mouth. “Sharee?”
She stared up at him then caught both his shoulders and tugged him down. “It’s going to take more than one kiss.”
His mouth curled, and he bent his head towards hers again. If the dog had not pushed between them, she might have told him then. Instead, she pulled away. What did he see in this big, sloppy dog?
She went back to the kitchen. Perhaps she’d tell him tonight. Spinning in a circle, she held her arms across her abdomen. Then she stopped. Once she sat down and started working on the fundraiser, she’d be too concentrated on it to segue into something personal like this.
Perhaps when the banquet was over…or even the night of the banquet? That might work. She’d plan something special. Yes. Special.
After all, a baby was special.
***
“Somebody,” Representative Tom McCloud said, “somebody high up is in this. Gotta be. I’m getting too much flack, too much media flack, everywhere I go.”
Splashdown: A Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 3) Page 4