by Hope White
“From what I’ve heard, you can do things with computers that would amaze engineers at Microsoft. So stop pretending you don’t have the brains. It’s insulting to those of us who struggled in school due to learning disabilities.”
“You mean…you—”
“Yep.” Morgan forked a piece of chicken. “I had two choices—feel sorry for myself, or plow on through. I chose the latter.”
“Yeah, well, your dad was probably behind you all the way. My mom is too busy with Mackie to care about my life, and all the stepmonster wants is for me to fail so he can ship me away somewhere.”
“Sketch, that’s not true,” Mom said.
“What about your grandma?” Morgan shot back. “From what I’ve seen, she cares more than two sets of parents. You’re lucky you’ve got her. I had a workaholic father and no mother. At some point I decided it didn’t matter. I set my own goals, and met them.”
As the discussion continued, Julie remarked on how much Morgan had changed. When they’d first started dating, he’d been insecure and angry, but over the years, he’d matured into a quality man with a personal strength that awed her. Sure, she’d brought him out of his shell in high school, but she couldn’t take credit for the man seated next to her.
A man, she realized, who was not the same boy she’d left behind.
“What?” he said, eyeing her. He’d caught her smiling.
“Nothing.” She buttered her biscuit and thought of the inappropriate kiss they’d just shared.
Inappropriate? Why? They were both adults, and he hadn’t exactly pushed her away.
It was inappropriate because she didn’t want to hurt him again, give him the wrong signals and set up an expectation she couldn’t possibly meet.
No, although her impulse was a stupid one, it was just that: an impulse. She’d apologize later and explain that it was a kiss of gratitude. Morgan had a way of making her feel safe, even when she knew someone was close, stalking her. Heck, he could be down the street.
Just then, Morgan reached out and touched her arm. “Sound good?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“We’ll go to church services tomorrow at nine. Or is that too early for you?”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” She didn’t see the value in sitting in a church where her stalker could easily figure out she might go on a Sunday morning.
“Well, we’re not leaving you home alone,” Mom said. “Everyone’s going, right?”
“Of course,” Lana said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ashley answered.
Everyone looked at Sketch. “Okay, okay. I’ll be there.”
“Got anything nicer than a T-shirt and jeans?” Morgan teased.
“Hey, I’ve been to church with Gram before.”
“And we know she’ll be there, because she’s making the pastries for the reception after the service.”
A reception. Great. Sitting in church for an hour would be hard enough, but socializing for another hour with the locals? Julie didn’t have the energy for small talk, especially in her current edgy state.
The group broke into another round of discussion about Horizon Farms and the potential spike in crime in Port Whisper.
“We shouldn’t assume that because these kids have had a rough journey that they’re going to act out and cause trouble in town,” Mom said. “What do you think, Chief?”
“I think—” he paused and glanced at Julie “—everyone deserves a second chance.”
The next day Julie found herself in church for the first time in six years. She remembered the week she’d stopped going, right after she’d lost her first client, Phillip Bratton, to a violent, gruesome death. And somehow after that, she’d had a hard time both coping with the pain and believing in God. Where was God when Phillip lay bleeding in the street?
The choir sang beautiful hymns, infused with love and celebration. She could almost feel the glory of God float across the congregation, who seemed enthralled by the music, the prayers and the sermon.
About forgiveness.
Julie fidgeted, dug in her purse and popped a cough drop. Anything to distract herself from Pastor Peterson’s words. She just couldn’t deal with them right now.
It wasn’t just his words that made her anxious. It all felt so…foreign.
After the service, Morgan stayed close as Julie, Mom, Lana, Ashley and Sketch made their way to the community room where Caroline put out freshly baked scones, breads and Christmas cookies.
“Julie? Julie Burns?” A thirtysomething woman with a bright smile gave her a hug.
“Hey, yep, it’s me.”
The woman stepped back. “You don’t remember me, do you? Wendy Metter, from biology?”
“Oh, right, Wendy. You look—wow, you look great.”
Wendy had been height- and weight-challenged, and always had had a bubbly personality.
“Thanks. Married life agrees with me.” Wendy motioned a tall man in a navy suit over. “Brian, this is a high-school friend, Julie Burns.”
“Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand.
“I can’t believe you’re here. And with Morgan.” Wendy winked.
No matter how many times people did that, it still irked Julie.
“They were high-school sweethearts,” Wendy explained to her husband. “Brian and I have been married just over a year. He came to town to help build the new resort, and never left.”
“Tell me more about the resort,” Julie asked, hoping to divert them from the topic of Julie and Morgan’s non-romance.
Brian, a pleasant man, described the hundred-room resort, complete with indoor water park, live entertainment and spa. He seemed passionate about the project, and obviously adored Wendy. He would touch her sleeve and interlink his fingers with hers as he spoke. It made Julie happy to know such a sweet girl had found true love. She deserved it.
And you don’t? a voice taunted.
“If you could excuse us,” Morgan said to Wendy and Brian. “There’s a peach-walnut scone over there with my name on it.”
“Sure, sure.” Wendy gave Julie another hug. “I’d love to catch lunch sometime.”
“That sounds great.”
“Are you at your mom’s?” Wendy asked.
“No, actually we’re staying at Morgan’s dad’s house.”
The minute the words left her lips, she saw the wheels turning in Wendy’s green eyes.
“Mom’s having her floors redone and Morgan offered to let us stay there,” Julie clarified.
“Oh, oh, right.” But from Wendy’s quirked eyebrow, she wasn’t buying it.
“Nice meeting you,” Julie said to Brian.
As Morgan led her away, Julie glanced over her shoulder and spotted Wendy whispering into her husband’s ear.
“Jules,” Morgan said, warning in his voice.
“What?”
“They don’t mean any harm.” He stepped up to the coffee urn and poured her a cup, complete with sugar and cream. “What did you think of the service?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Just okay, huh?”
“I’m sorry, Morgan. I’m not much into religion these days. I told you that.”
“You don’t have to be into religion to appreciate the sermon. Here, have a scone.” With metal tongs, he put one on a plate and handed it to her.
Just then, the deputy chief, in full uniform, cut through the crowd, heading straight for Morgan. Julie’s heart sped up. Had he discovered the identity of the stranger?
“Chief,” Scott said. “Sorry to bother you at church.”
“No problem, Scott.”
Lana came up beside Julie. “Margaret Sloan’s been asking about you. Come on.”
Julie glanced at Morgan.
“Go ahead. I won’t be far.” Julie watched Morgan and Scott wander off into a quiet corner.
“Hey, don’t worry. He’s not going to leave you,” Lana said.
Her sister’s words hit Julie square in the chest. She realized how much she depended
on Morgan, and not just for protection.
“Julie!” Margaret Sloan said, throwing her arms around Julie.
There’d been too much hugging today, too much socializing for Julie’s taste.
“I hear you’re in Seattle. As a social worker?”
“I counsel street kids and try to help them find their way back to a healthy and stable life.” She sounded like an automaton. But it was safer to click into professional mode than to expose the intense emotions that tangled her stomach into knots on most days when she worried about the kids.
“Wow, I’m so not worthy,” Margaret joked. “I market party supplies. Hardly a worthwhile endeavor compared to what you do.”
“That’s not true,” Lana interjected. “If you love your work, that’s what counts. Look at me, I run a tour business and sandwich shop. Hardly glamorous, but I figure if I bring joy to one person’s life on any given day, I’ve done God’s work.”
“How’s the business going?” Margaret asked.
“It’s seasonal,” Lana said. “Although this year I’ve increased December business by offering Christmas packages and decorated the boat in colorful lights for night cruises of the bay.”
“If you ever need free marketing help, I’d be happy to brainstorm.”
“Awesome, thanks.”
Julie half listened to the conversation while spying across the reception hall to catch a glimpse of Morgan. There was no sign of him. She spotted his half-eaten scone and coffee cup on the edge of a table.
Panic flooded her chest. Had the deputy chief found the stranger? What if Morgan went with Scott to check out the stranger’s motel room and the man had a gun?
“Excuse me for a second,” she said to Lana and Margaret.
She made a beeline for the front door of the church, hoping that Morgan and Scott were just outside. She flung open the door, but they were nowhere in sight.
Walking toward the parking lot, someone called out her name.
“Julie Burns?”
She turned and spotted a man in his fifties with red hair and pale skin.
“Yes?” Her gaze drifted down…to his black work boots.
She took a step back, chiding herself for leaving a church full of people to come outside where she stood alone with the stranger.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
NINE
Instincts on red alert, Julie took off toward the front of the church, hoping to find safety inside.
“Miss Burns!” he called after her.
She whipped open the front door to the church, and Morgan gripped her upper arms.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“That guy…who was looking for me with the boots—”
“It’s okay. He’s not an enemy.” Morgan pulled her to his chest and stroked her back. “A misunderstanding. We checked him out. He’s one of the good guys.”
She tipped her head back. “What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry for scaring her, Chief.” The man came up behind them.
“Julie, this is Joe Wilson of Horizon Farms,” Morgan said by way of an introduction.
She turned around and eyed the man, hesitated. “I don’t understand.”
“I can explain over lunch, if you’ll let me. The chief’s invited, as well.” Joe extended his hand, and she shook it.
“I don’t think I can wait until lunch,” Julie said. She wanted answers sooner rather than later.
“I don’t want to keep you from your friends inside.”
“I really need an explanation.” Julie wasn’t anxious to go back in anyway.
“Well, I’d like to take my time explaining it to you, but I understand your curiosity. I’m managing director of Horizon Farms. Have you heard of it?”
“The facility for teenagers trying to get their lives back on track?”
“‘Facility’ sounds a bit clinical. It’s a farm where kids will build their own housing, care for the animals and grow vegetables. The visionary, Elizabeth Quinn, lost a son to drug abuse, and came up with the concept to give kids like her son an alternative path to heal. She had a theory that hardworking teenagers are productive and healthy teenagers.”
“Had?”
“She passed away six months ago. Named me her executor and manager of Horizon. It took us this long to locate property we thought suitable for the project.”
“I’m confused. What does this have to do with me?”
“I’ve done research on the area and the people of Port Whisper. Many times causes like this can create fear and anxiety in a community, yet we need support from the locals to make it work. Anyway, your name came up repeatedly as a success story, a woman who’s dedicated her life to working with teenagers. You both know the community and understand the need to help kids get on track. I could use your advice on how to ingratiate myself into the community.”
“I haven’t lived here in a very long time,” Julie said.
“Yes, but home is home. These folks respect and trust you.”
“What are you asking me to do, exactly?”
“Listen to my proposal, give me feedback on our plan. It’s a good one, modeled after a very successful program in Utah. Most of all, if you see its value, and only if you see the value, I’d appreciate your support in our venture. However, if you don’t, I would understand.”
Julie couldn’t quite wrap her head around it: the stranger-stalker was not a threat. He was a man trying to help teenagers.
Just like her.
“It’s a lot to process, I know. That’s why I was hoping to take you to lunch. Not today, of course. I know you have family obligations.” Joe motioned toward the church.
“Would you like to join us?” Morgan asked.
“I know how people talk about strangers. I want to ease into things before they find out I’m with Horizon.”
“You’re right, people do talk. Which is why you should come in and let me introduce you around,” Morgan said. “People are most frightened of what they don’t understand. I think once they meet you, they’ll warm up quick enough.”
“I agree,” Julie added. “If they’re comfortable around you, they’ll open up, and will feel like they can share their concerns. Truthful and open communications should be your primary goal.”
“Of course.”
Morgan motioned Joe inside. “Grab some coffee. Jules and I will join you in a minute.”
The church door closed behind him, and Morgan tipped her chin up to look into his eyes. “You okay?”
“Better now, yeah.” And she was, whenever she looked into Morgan’s eyes.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you before you saw Joe. Scott did a background check and Joe is who he says he is, a former businessman looking to transition into more fulfilling, altruistic work. He’s married with two grown children, and he’s looking for a place to stay. I think I’ve talked him into renting a room at the Port Whisper Inn.”
“Where’s his wife?”
“She’ll stay in the city until Horizon is up and running. Probably won’t be until next spring or summer. There’s a lot of work to be done, including getting permits from the city.”
“It sounds like a wonderful program. How do you think it will be received?”
“That kind of depends on us, and other leaders in Port Whisper. He’s right, Julie. People trust you, and they trust me. I’d like to hear a little more about the program so we can form an educated opinion.”
Morgan opened the door for her. “I gotta say, it’s nice to have the distraction.”
Julie met with Joe Wilson the next day and they discussed Horizon Farms and the organization’s goal of helping kids. It was a worthy cause, for sure, but would the residents of Port Whisper embrace the idea?
Morgan was right. People tended to be afraid of things they didn’t understand, things that seemed threatening. But she also knew that with the proper support, lost teenagers could get a second chance.
“It’s an admirable endeavor,” Julie said,
sitting across from Joe at the Turnstyle restaurant. Morgan sat next to her.
“I’m glad you think so,” Joe said. “The real challenge is making the community feel a sense of ownership in the program.”
“Tell me about your prospective residents.” She sipped her coffee.
“We’re trying to get to kids before they self-destruct and take to the streets. We’ll promote this program to parents of kids who are failing in school. I believe failing is an indicator that a kid has given up.”
“Will they live on the property?”
“Yes. They will build the dorms with their own hands. They’ll take shifts planning out meals for the week and maintaining the grounds. We’ll encourage them to get jobs in Port Whisper or Port Angeles, grades and time permitting. Since it’s an hour to Port Angeles and half an hour to Port Whisper, we’ll provide transportation.”
“Where will they attend school?”
“We’ll run our own program with certified teachers.”
“Have any kids signed up yet?”
“A dozen boys. Ten more have applied. We have a comprehensive interview process. They’re good kids. Just lost.”
“You should have a town meeting to introduce them. Show people that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“Good idea.” He jotted in his notebook. “My wife and I will move into the main house next month, then if all goes well, construction will begin in May, providing the weather cooperates. We hope to launch the program this summer.”
Morgan shifted in the booth. “Sorry to interrupt, but we need to get going.”
She sat up straight. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’ve got some things to check on at work and need to drop you at home.”
“Thanks for meeting with me,” Joe said, shaking her hand.
“My pleasure. Here’s my cell number if you want to chat some more.”
Morgan escorted her to his truck and they headed for his dad’s house.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” she asked.
“Fine, just work stuff.”
“Related to my case?”
“Sort of, but nothing serious,” he said.