Bertie walked up behind her and put her hand on Claire’s back. “Your food’s ready, honey. I’ll be there tonight, but not for Roy. I thought about tearing that sign down, but I think we need to handle this now.”
“You think people don’t want me here?” Her voice was small and she hated it.
“No,” Bertie frowned. “But people are talking. Roy has them all stirred up. Come on now, eat your breakfast. You gotta have fuel if you’re gonna take down a bully like Roy Willis.”
“I’m not going to let him win, Bertie.”
“I know, sweetie.”
As Claire got back to the table, Joe took one look at her face and put his fork down. “What’s going on?”
People in the other booths were starting to stare and she didn’t want to make a scene. She lowered her voice and said, “Roy’s apparently gotten the town council to hold an emergency meeting tonight. He’s telling people we’re a threat to the town’s safety.”
Joe’s jaw set in a hard line. Amelia’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. “What does that mean? What’s going on?”
“Just a bully throwing his weight around.” Claire heard the words she said to Amelia, words that echoed Bertie’s. Roy was a bully. And he was trying to intimidate her to make himself look better.
Joe picked up his fork to take a bite and ended up pushing his pancakes to the side. “I take full responsibility for this. I’ll deal with Roy.”
“This is not your fault, Joe.”
“Hard not to take it that way when someone is using you to get to me.” He leaned back in the booth and picked up his coffee cup.
“He’s so consumed by himself that he doesn’t realize he’s not hurting you or me.” Slowly, the fear she felt was becoming anger. She shook her head and took a vicious bite out of a piece of bacon. “He’s hurting children because of his own agenda. And that’s the worst part. It’s important to fight for what’s right, even when it’s hard.”
“I know sometimes the right thing isn’t the most popular thing to do,” Amelia said around a mouthful of blueberry pancake. She used the back of her sleeve to wipe syrup off her chin.
“Exactly.” Joe handed her a napkin. “You can’t give in to someone who wants to do the wrong thing just because you want to get along. Remember that when someone wants you to drink or smoke pot.”
His daughter rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, Joe. I’d like to actually have a life one day.”
A bell rang in the distance. Amelia sighed and shoved one last bite of pancake into her mouth. “Gotta go.”
Claire let her out of the bench seat and then slid back in across from Joe. “She’s smart. With some time and consistency, I really think she’s going to be fine.”
“I hope so.”
Lanna refilled Joe’s cup. “She’s a good kid, Chief. She just needs a dad, and she has a good one.”
Joe laughed. “I’m glad y’all are confident in my parenting skills.”
Claire took one more sip of coffee and dug some money out of her pocket, placing it on the table. “I’ve got to go, too. The painters are supposed to be back at my place by nine.”
“I’ll be out there to work on the cabin and Mom will bring Amelia by to feed Freckles and Tinkerbell after school.”
“Joe, you need to think seriously about whether you want to align yourself with me on this. Your family is here.”
He dumped some sugar in his cup and stirred. “No, I don’t. I knew there would be some eyebrows raised about turning Red Hill Farm into a foster home. That doesn’t mean it isn’t the right thing to do.”
She smiled, but inside she worried about how this would affect the reputation that he was trying so hard to rebuild. Maybe it was that old insecurity telling her she didn’t deserve an ally and friend. “I’ll see you later, then.”
As she walked away, her smile faded. It was one thing to be willing to fight for what was right.
It was another to actually survive the battle.
* * *
Joe rolled the soft blue paint that Amelia had picked out for the living room onto the wall. The sting in his shoulder reminded him that he’d been shot a few months ago. That he missed his job. Missed his team.
It hadn’t escaped his notice that he was building a home and a life here while he was longing to be back in his old life.
A splash and a scream echoed off the main house. He ran toward the spring-fed pond as Claire surfaced, spluttering and laughing. He had to grin as she did a backstroke across the pond. “So it’s a little chilly?”
She lifted her head and smiled at him. “Yeah, slightly!”
“You decided to swim in your clothes?”
“No.” She laughed. “I was on my way down here to bring you a Gatorade and I thought, it may be October, but it’s really hot, I should take a swim.”
“Sounds like good reasoning to me.”
“Come on in.”
There were about a million reasons he shouldn’t. But her eyes were shining. And that was the one reason he should. Maybe jumping into the water without a care for how cold or how weird or even whether it might look foolish was the way to joy. And he’d already established that he needed more joy.
He stood there another minute, watching the water slide off her dark hair into the clear blue pond.
“It’s amazing,” she said, treading water. “Come on.”
He kicked off his running shoes and started for the edge.
“Don’t go slow. If you think about it too much, you’ll chicken out.”
He put one foot in the water and gave her his best you’ve got to be kidding me look.
Laughing, she splashed him. “Man up. It’s just a little cold water.”
Joe took a deep breath and dived in, surfacing beside her, gasping when shock took his breath away. For a split second, he was in an alley on the waterfront, staring at the sky, trying to suck in oxygen and failing. Deliberately, with slow deep breaths, he focused on the present. The bright blue October sky. The warmth from the Indian summer sun. He wasn’t dying. He was very much alive.
“You okay?” Her perceptive gaze seemed to see right through any walls he put up.
“Yeah, fine.” He lay back and let the cool water soothe his ragged edges, the ones where he wondered if this in-between time would ever end.
“Sometimes when there’s so much going on, I have to stop and take a minute to remember why I’m doing...what I’m doing.” Her voice broke through his thoughts and the quiet lapping of the pond.
“I got shot.” The words strangled out.
“I know.” Claire straightened and he knew she was looking at him, but he couldn’t look her in the eyes.
“I’ve been injured before. I know how to come back from it. I’m just tired.”
She didn’t say anything and he closed his eyes. He shouldn’t have said anything. She had so much on her mind and didn’t deserve—
“I’m not sure this will make you feel better, but it’s absolutely normal, what you are feeling. It’s normal to feel anxiety, about being shot and about the future, to wonder if you’ll ever get your mojo back, so to speak.”
Her quiet words washed over him like the lapping waters of the pond.
“It’s normal to feel isolated. It’s normal to feel depressed. Normal to feel vulnerable. And it’s very normal for those feelings to freak you out if you’re not used to feeling them.”
His eyes searched her face. There was no hint of judgment. “Thanks.”
“You’ve had a lot to deal with. Any of the things that have happened to you would leave you reeling. Give yourself some time.”
“I keep hearing that.” Maybe at some point it would sink in. And he desperately wanted to change the subject. “Are you worried about the meeting?”
>
“Yes. I think I came down here hoping you would distract me. I have so much to do and what I keep doing is stewing.”
“Don’t give up. I don’t know if you’re that good with all kids or if it was just a special connection with Amelia, but if it wasn’t for you, we’d still be deadlocked in the silent treatment with a plate of blueberry pancakes between us.”
She smiled, but her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “I’m not giving up. But thank you. I needed the reminder of why it’s so important.”
“I have the feeling that you’re too stubborn to give up anyway.” The tense moment was gone, thank goodness. He knew the trauma of being shot would surface again, but for now he’d gotten through it.
She laughed again and splashed the cold water in his face. “Oh, you do know how to sweet-talk me, Joe Sheehan. Let’s do this again. Same time tomorrow?”
“If you promise to resuscitate me when my heart stops from the cold.” He started swishing through the water toward the bank.
“That’s what friends are for.” She clambered out of the pond behind him.
As he watched her walk back to the house dripping a trail of water behind, the thought crossed his mind that he really liked her and he hadn’t felt that way in a long time. The doors to his heart, so to speak, had been firmly closed. His past—his job—kept him at arm’s length from other people. Seemed now there was just a crack in the door, enough to think...maybe.
But no matter how wide the crack was, there was too much—way too much—uncertainty in both their lives to add to it right now.
Claire turned and waved from the back stairs before disappearing into the house. He chuckled to himself.
She just had a way.
He sighed and got to his feet. Amelia would be here soon to feed the animals and then they were all going to the town meeting. Roy Willis wasn’t one to back down from a stance he believed in, no matter how wrong it might be. Joe had a feeling Claire was in for the fight of her life.
Chapter Six
Claire’s hands were clasped together tight enough to crush a pecan. Anxiety had been building all day until she was about to jump out of her skin. Or throw up. Or worse.
The only relief she’d gotten was the icy cold swim, which was just shocking enough to break her train of thoughts. At least for a little while.
She’d prayed all day, willing that the words she would say tonight would be God’s words, not hers. If this project was just a figment of her own dreams, she didn’t want it. It wasn’t worth the price. But if opening a home for foster children was God’s will, she knew Red Hill Farm and the children who would live there could make a difference in the life of this whole town.
She could feel the eyes boring into the back of her head. People coming in had left a wide berth around her. Two seats on all sides. No one in this crowded little room wanted to sit next to the person who was going to ruin their town, but they all wanted to get a good look at her. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and waited for Mayor Campbell, who was also the local banker, to stop working the room.
Finally, he walked to the podium in the library’s community room and cleared his throat. The monitor squealed and he had to move the mic and podium a couple of times until it stopped.
Mayor Campbell cleared his throat again. “Welcome, everyone. As you know, we called this emergency town meeting to discuss some things that are very troubling. I know we all have families to get home to, or dinner warming in the oven, so I’m going to get right to the point and invite Roy Willis up to the podium to share some concerns he has. Roy?”
As Roy stood up and hiked his pants, Bertie slid into the seat beside Claire. “What’d I miss? Where’s Joe?”
“Nothing yet.” Claire took another deep breath and willed herself to relax a little. “He said he would be here.”
Roy buttoned his coat and smoothed it. “Good evening, everyone. I want to take this opportunity to thank you so much for coming out. I know how busy everyone is.”
He had this gentlemanly air about him, which was the furthest thing from what she had seen at her house yesterday. He continued, “You all know I’ve protected and served this town for forty years. I have the town’s best interest at heart. And when I heard about this woman’s plan to bring delinquents and criminals into our town, I knew I needed to act.”
Claire shifted in her chair. He was uninformed and acting like he was an expert. Bertie reached over and gripped her hand, tight.
Roy hadn’t looked at her yet. In fact, he was avoiding her eyes. “Our community is a safe, friendly, God-fearing town. We’re not afraid to let our children ride their bikes. We talk to our neighbors over the fence. Sometimes we might even forget to lock our doors. Do we really want to change our way of life because an outsider is planning to open some kind of halfway house for juvenile delinquents?”
Claire had known that juvenile delinquent statement would come back to bite her. She just hoped that people wouldn’t fall for the false narrative that Roy was weaving for them.
Roy’s gaze slid from face after face. “We have to applaud Ms. Conley for her desire to help people who are less fortunate, of course, but there’s a reason we don’t live in the big city. And, in my opinion, the big cities can keep their drugs and gangs, thank you very much.”
There was some scattered applause at that. Claire’s stomach churned.
“If you’re as concerned as I am about our community, please join me in banning this kind of halfway house from our town.”
There was more clapping, but not as much as there would’ve been if Bertie hadn’t sent a quelling look around the room. The mayor stood and walked back to the podium. “Would someone like to make a motion that we vote?”
Bertie jammed her elbow into Claire’s ribs, catapulting her to her feet.
The mayor waited for her to make the motion, clearly not realizing that she was the person at the center of this discussion. “Mr. Mayor, I’m Claire Conley. I’d like to say a few words, if I may.”
He looked hesitant, but she took advantage of the pause and walked to the podium, where he gave her the floor. She cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her ears, suddenly feeling very conspicuous in her cotton skirt and flats.
“My sister and I inherited Red Hill Farm from our biological father. When I met him shortly before he died, he told me what a lovely town he lived in and about many of you and what you meant to him. At the time, I was working with foster children in Charlotte, North Carolina.”
Claire looked toward the back of the room and realized Joe stood there, his sunglasses in place, his arm around Amelia’s shoulders. When she paused, he smiled and nodded encouragement to her. She relaxed her shoulders and returned the smile, meeting the eyes of people around the room. These folks were not her enemy, they were worried about their families, and she could understand that.
She focused on giving them something personal to think about, rather than some threat out there that no one could put their finger on. “After I found out my biological father left the house to us, I realized my sister, Jordan, and I could do what we’d always dreamed of doing—give kids a place to live where they would be safe and loved and could learn about a better life. I couldn’t think of a more perfect place than Red Hill Springs for kids to learn about community and family and responsibility.”
Roy stood, tucking his shirt in again. “’Scuse me, Mr. Mayor, but regardless of Ms. Conley’s dreams, it’s pretty much black-and-white. Do we want delinquents in our town or do we not?”
“I’d like to try to address Acting Police Chief Willis’s concerns.” Claire had to work at maintaining a level, calm tone. She smiled at Roy. “I appreciate your point of view, sir, but in this case, the facts don’t support it. It’s true that I’m renovating Red Hill Farm to house foster children, but most of them are very far
from being delinquents.”
Roy opened his mouth to retort, but someone spoke up from the back and he sank back into his chair. A young woman with a messy bun and a food stain on her shoulder was on her feet. “You said ‘most’ won’t be delinquents. Does that mean you’ll have some?”
Claire nodded. “That’s a good question. Children who are in the foster care system come from difficult circumstances or they wouldn’t be in foster care. It’s not hard to imagine that some of them, not all of them, have stolen, or gotten in fights, or been kicked out of school. We’ll address the root cause of those behaviors and give them positive things to focus on instead.”
The mayor looked thoughtful. “What kind of things?”
“The plan is to have an organic garden, a fish pond, and domestic animals like chickens and goats that the kids will help take care of. It’s possible, in time, that some of that produce will be available to the community.” She paused. “Also, we’ll start with five horses. The kids will take care of those, too, but they will also be used for equine-assisted therapy.”
A guy in a ball cap stood up in the back. “I’m all for rehabilitation, but those kids will be in our schools, mixing with our kids. I don’t think our children should bear the brunt of someone else’s personal problems.”
As the crowd murmured, Joe stepped out of the shadows in the back corner of the room. “All due respect, George, your kids will be bearing the brunt of someone else’s personal problems, regardless. Either our community helps kids recover from trauma, or we pay for it later on when they’re adults.”
He walked closer to the front of the room. “Many of you know that my mother struggled when I was a kid. If Bertie and Frank Sheehan hadn’t taken me in, I don’t know where I’d be right now. I sure wouldn’t be a cop.”
Roy muttered something under his breath to the guy sitting next to him and received a glare from Bertie.
The Dad Next Door Page 6