The Preacher's Daughter

by Lyn Cote

  The doctor finished writing on the patient chart. “Bond, you should get a medical permission form for each child. That way, we don’t have to wait for a parent to get here. Mrs. Kremer was easy to get hold of and I’m their family doctor. I understand, though, that a lot of the kids are pretty much strangers around here.”

  As usual, news traveled fast, so the doctor knew about the informal ball games and realized a lot of Mexican-American kids were involved.

  “We, of course,” the doctor continued, “provide emergency medical treatment to anyone. And the kids whose parents are employed at the packing plant have medical benefits.” The doctor gave him a look filled with meaning. “But since they are children, we still must get parental permission to treat them.”

  Tanner nodded. The doctor was emphasizing that getting permission to treat was the real issue here, not money.

  “Ask the receptionist,” the doctor continued. “I keep a form on file for organizations and baby-sitters to use as a guide.”

  “I’ll do that.” Feeling no longer needed, Tanner patted Sarah’s arm. “See you tomorrow, Sarah?”

  “If she feels good enough,” Sarah’s mom replied.

  “She should be there,” the doctor said in a hearty tone.

  Waving farewell, Tanner went in search of Lucie. She’d want to know about Sarah. And he wanted to be near her again. The thought shook him, but it didn’t slow him.

  Lucie looked up to see Tanner enter Nate’s room where Sophie and her children had gathered around Nate. His concerned expression brought her own emotions bubbling to the surface. But she kept her voice calm. “How’s Sarah?”

  “No concussion. Just a bump.” He grinned.

  She felt herself smiling, too. “Her mother came?”

  “She’s driving her home now.” He turned to Nate, reaching out to shake his hand. “Did we catch you between therapy sessions?”

  The big man, now gaunt from weeks of lying in a hospital bed, let Tanner hold his large but limp-looking hand. Nate tried to smile. “I walked better between the bars today. My therapist tells me it won’t be long before I walk out of here on crutches.”

  Lucie wasn’t fooled. Sophie’s expressive face told a different tale. Lucie had come in just in time to see Nate being wheeled back into his room. He wasn’t even on crutches yet? How many weeks before he was able to come home? The occupational and physical therapy bills were mounting.

  Tanner looked to Lucie. “Why don’t you take Sophie and the boys to the cafeteria for lunch while I chat with Nate?”

  Catching the look in his eyes, she nodded. He was telling her he’d give Sophie a break while he was there with Nate. Thanks, Tanner. She motioned for Sophie to precede her out the door.

  With a backward glance, she said, “We need to talk, okay?” Seeing Sarah hurt this morning had reminded her of her years with Head Start. She and Tanner had omitted an important requirement for working with kids. And it was probably her fault for rushing him. Tanner, we needed permission forms. She hoped this accident wouldn’t keep kids away tomorrow.

  “After lunch,” he agreed, but his attention shifted to Nate. “We had a good morning. Mikey is on my…”

  Mikey and Danny took one of each of her hands and tugged her out into the hall. “We want hot dogs!”

  Lucie sent one last glance over her shoulder to Tanner, grateful for his understanding that Nate needed a man to talk to. Tanner might be irritating sometimes, but he had moments when his intelligence showed itself. And the look he gave her sent a shiver through her.

  She’d made the mistake of underestimating this man’s effect on her. She didn’t have her life planned out in minute detail in triplicate. But she had realized one truth about herself—she couldn’t become involved with a clergyman. She didn’t have what it took to be the perfect preacher’s wife, like her mother. To her, that made Tanner Bond one dangerous man.

  That afternoon, Lucie sat at Sophie’s kitchen table, with Tanner across from her. Sancho and Fella lounged on the floor where the breeze came through the screen door. From outside came the distant sound of a neighbor’s tractor.

  Lucie tried to resist looking directly at Tanner. Just catching glimpses of him seemed to keep her on edge. Now the way his earlobe curved fascinated her.

  Come on, Lucie. Get a grip. He’s not a man who should interest you. He’s nice enough, but you have different visions for your life, way different. And they don’t include being attracted to a small-town clergyman.

  The boys were outside playing with their new litter of barn kittens. Lucie sipped from her chilled glass of sweetened ice tea. It was a hot day, but to keep bills down, Sophie was trying not to turn on the air conditioner until July. This morning, Lucie had watched Sophie frowning over the checkbook as she’d paid the monthly bills.

  That was one area where Lucie couldn’t help her cousin. Even if she didn’t spend a dime for anything but gas for the Bomb, she’d still be flat broke before July Fourth. And her muffler could fall off at any moment. But she couldn’t ask Sophie for money. Lord, help me out here. You’ve always provided for my every need.

  “Here’s the medical permission form that I got at the clinic.” Tanner slid the paper toward her. “Just to be sure it gets the message across, I’d like you to translate it into Spanish below the English and we’ll pass the same form out to all the parents, today if possible.”

  She nodded, keeping her eyes lowered, afraid she’d forget herself and stare at him. “Sounds like a good idea. That way everyone gets the information.” She cleared her throat. “And we need to add a line where the parent or guardian gives their permission for their child to participate.” She grimaced. “You were right. We should have had a meeting and done all this stuff before we got started.” She watched for his reaction to her confession.

  He shrugged. “Live and learn.”

  He was being gracious and she knew it. “You’re being kind.” She paused. “Sometimes I get carried away.”

  He grinned at her. “Really? Not you!”

  She punched his pleasantly solid biceps.

  He rubbed his arm with a good-humored grimace. “I think we should add a liability release, too.”

  She propped her chin on one hand and stared at him, forgetting her desire to avoid the melting effect his warm brown eyes had on her. “Do you think that’s necessary? Did Sarah’s mother threaten to sue?”

  “No, but I think it would be prudent. If we mention the liability issue, it gives parents a chance to remember that we are doing this as private volunteers, not part of an organization that has liability insurance. So they know what to expect if anything serious should happen to any of the kids.”

  She looked at him, her gaze lingering on the cleft in his chin. She shook herself. “You’re right.” She hadn’t given a thought to liability issues.

  “I’ve only been here a year, but I don’t think we’d have any real concerns unless we did something obviously negligent that endangered a child. Around here, people don’t appreciate anyone who files lawsuits just to see what they can get. In fact, I would think that public opinion would be pretty negative toward anyone who did. Especially since we are doing this for the community—gratis.”

  She couldn’t help but be drawn to a man who cared so much about kids, about his community. “Maybe we should buy a junior-size batting helmet.” Then she cringed at her suggestion. She didn’t have a dime to contribute to anything.

  “I was thinking someone might have one an older sibling had outgrown that we could borrow.”

  She nodded with approval. Feeling his gaze on her, she picked up a pencil from the table. She concentrated on reading the form and writing Spanish phrases at the bottom. “Do you have a computer and printer at the church office?”

  “Yes. Are you computer literate?”

  She nodded, letting English phrases and their Spanish translations flow through her mind—like hombre atractivo, handsome man—ojos marrón, brown eyes.

  “Word processing?
” he inquired.

  “Sí.” She jotted a few more Spanish words on the sheet, trying to switch her mind back to the legal phrases in front of her.

  “Desktop publishing?”

  Where was he headed with this Twenty Questions? She looked up at him. “What’s up?”

  “I was wondering if you’d be interested in doing a little part-time clerical work at the church office.” He looked down as if uncomfortable.

  The innocent question staggered her. Her mother had been a church secretary, paid and unpaid, many times over the years of her father’s pastorate. But Lucie had never contemplated doing such work herself.

  Being asked to be a church secretary packed an emotional punch she hadn’t expected. In her mind, it was all tied up with her resentment toward her mother for letting others take her for granted. The church members had just expected her mother to pick up the slack and that had always irked Lucie.

  “You look surprised.”

  An understatement. Her heart pounded as though she’d just rounded home plate. Why did it upset her so?

  Lucie acknowledged that this was just the type of extra work that she had felt her mother shouldn’t have been asked to do when she was already so involved in her husband’s ministry. But of course, Mom, being the perfect pastor’s wife, hadn’t seen it that way at all and she had done the typing, copying and collating without complaint. Her mother’s complacence had always chagrined Lucie and now she was being asked to fill the same role.

  But then another thought elbowed its way into Lucie’s welter of emotions. Dear Lord, is this Your provision? She sighed. The answer was self-evident. She needed a flexible, very part-time job and she was being offered the perfect one. And evidently, God had had this all lined up before she’d even asked about anyone about a job.

  “I didn’t know,” she hedged, “that St. Andrew’s could afford to hire a secretary.”

  “Not full-time, not even part-time, just a few hours here and there. I’d like help giving the church bulletin and newsletter a new look. Your degree is in art, right?”

  “Art education,” she corrected him. “But I have done some graphic art and desktop publishing.” She began talking to herself. You can do this. You won’t become your mother just helping out the church. And your bank balance is $83.15. Beggars can’t be choosers. “Well, if you think I could be of help….”

  Her spirits did another unexpected free fall. Her agreeing to this only emphasized how her summer plans had gone awry. When will I be able to start looking for a real job? I can’t even send out résumés because I can’t get away for interviews! The school year will be started before I’m free again!

  “When would it be good for you to come over to work?” Tanner’s voice called her back.

  She inhaled some of the heavy, humid air and dealt with reality. She should definitely refuse. This man drew her attention even though she knew it would never work out. With this job, she’d be with him mornings and now evenings! “How about in the evenings when Sophie’s home from the hospital?” The words flowed from her lips, shocking her.

  He nodded. “Great.”

  What have I done? Self-conscious, she looked down at the paper again and began jotting the translation. Focus on the paperwork or you’ll be lost, Lucie! “I’ll add the liability and permission notations. Can you type this or do you want me to? You’d have to watch the boys—”

  “No. After you finish, I’ll go over it with you so I get the spelling right. Then I’ll type this, run off copies and then take them over to Ignacio. He lives with his daughter and gave me her phone number. He wanted me to call him about Sarah. I figure he’ll know which kids at Shangri-La need these.”

  Impressed by his efficient plan, she grinned and drew a happy breath. “Hey, there’s no grass growing under your feet.”

  He colored. “I just don’t want one little accident to put the brakes on this. The kids were having a great time.”

  To lighten the mood and short-circuit his claim on her reactions and thoughts, she imitated Miguel’s voice, the way he called to his teammates that morning. “Hey, amigo! I’ll get this done ASAP.”

  Tanner grinned back at her. “Hey, amigo back at you!”

  “Make that amiga! I’m a feminine-type friend,” she teased.

  He chuckled. “Amiga.”

  The way he looked at her sent that sizzle through her again. Morning and now evenings with Tanner. Oh, dear. She’d have to get over this. Fast.

  Forcing her mind back to translating, she realized that at least, now she’d be able to afford the new muffler…sort of. Maybe Mitch would let her pay it off so much a week. She then recalled she had to go to Dailey this afternoon and pick Zoë up from the public pool there. Thinking of Zoë sent her mood downward.

  Something of her frustration and worry must have shown on her face because Tanner touched her arm in a sign of sympathy.

  A current zipped up her arm. Before she could stop herself, she leaned toward him, then froze. The air between them became charged. He leaned closer.

  “Hi!” A cheery woman’s voice jolted them. “It’s me, Nella, from down the road. I brought a pie for Sophie and the kids.” The woman walked in and her eyes widened as she took in Tanner’s hand on Lucie’s arm.

  Oh, no. Lucie groaned silently. We’re in for gossip now.

  A week later, a door slammed in the night at Sophie’s. At the foot of Lucie’s bed upstairs, Fella woke and gave a soft bark. Lucie sat up. Midnight blackness surrounded her. Shocked out of sleep, she blinked, trying to orient herself. She heard the sound of a motor.

  She threw back the covers and stumbled to the window. In the glow from the high yard light, she glimpsed a truck turning around in the yard. It looked like the truck that kid had driven when she’d been at the DQ with Tanner over a week ago! Zoë’s white-blond hair glowed in the shadows as she sat in the passenger seat next to the unseen driver.

  Lucie’s mind lurched to an unpleasant conclusion. Sneaking out at night? I don’t think so, Zoë.

  The truck was moving slowly, quietly, out of the yard. Not wanting to wake the household, Lucie told Fella to stay. Grabbing her jeans from the back of a chair, Lucie pulled them on over her short summer pj’s and headed out, snatching her purse as she went. As quietly as she could, she raced downstairs to the back door and out to her car.

  Chapter Six

  Lucie managed to reach the yard in time to see the pickup’s red tail lights turn left onto the county highway. Her heart thudding in a sickening way, Lucie jumped into her car. She thanked God for her new muffler. Instead of roaring out to the road, the Bomb purred softly, not alerting the driver of the truck. And would anyone bet against the driver being that Riel Wilkins the sheriff had warned her about?

  Driving cautiously, Lucie kept the battered pickup in sight. Finally, it turned onto a dirt road that dead-ended in a cornfield. Lucie’s mouth tightened into a grim line and dread settled in her midsection like a cold brick. She’d been right to follow.

  The dirt road was a narrow one, probably formed over years by a farmer moving equipment in and out of his field. Lucie parked just off the road and tried to think of how to handle this. A tremor of fear trickled through her. This was a lonely spot and darkness folded around her.

  But if she read the situation right—which no doubt she had—she must take action quickly for Zoë’s sake. Riel hadn’t spirited the young girl away from home in the middle of the night to this deserted place to play “Go Fish” or discuss world affairs.

  Pressing a hand to her throbbing temple, Lucie exhaled. Dear Lord, protect me and Zoë. And help me out here! I’m not up to this challenge! She chewed her lower lip, wishing she had a cell phone. But who could she call? I’m too young to be a chaperone. But she was the only one available.

  Then she inched forward, the car rocking on the rutted track. She parked at an angle, effectively blocking Riel’s exit, unless he chose to drive through the ankle-high corn in the muddy fields, which was close to ea
ch side of her car. Out of her glove compartment, she extracted a flashlight and shoved open her door. At the last minute, she pulled the hefty tire iron from under her seat. Making no effort to go unnoticed—besides, Riel must have seen her lights pull up behind him—she slammed her car door.

  She snapped on the light. Aiming it at the uneven ground, she picked her way through the muddy furrows and hillocks of wild grass. Cicadas dinned in her ears. The humid night wrapped around her like a damp washcloth. When she reached the driver’s side door, she illuminated the inside of the cab.

  Riel let fly a string of profanity.

  “Nice to see you, too.” Lucie let the grim irony flow.

  “What are you doing here?” Zoë snapped, her face blazing red even in the shadows.

  “We both know why I’m here and why you’re here. And remember, I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

  “You should have stayed out of this,” Riel threatened with menace in his voice.

  With a nonchalance she was far from feeling, Lucie raised the tire iron so it could be seen and hefted it in her hand. She wouldn’t be bullied. Though the sensation of what felt like giant-size butterflies, flapping around inside, unnerved her. “Zoë,” she said evenly, “go get into my car.”

  “You can’t make me!” Zoë fired up. “I’m not a baby anymore.”

  “She doesn’t have to go with you,” Riel sneered.

  Lucie aimed her flashlight directly into Riel’s face. The planes of his face looked harsh in the unforgiving light and shadows. His hair was artfully unkempt and his eyes burned with anger. Cursing her again, he blinked and shaded his eyes.

  She tapped the door of the truck with her tire iron. “How old are you?” she asked, menace now in her voice.

  Riel didn’t reply.

  “Zoë isn’t sixteen yet,” Lucie observed in a cool voice. “But you’re driving so you are at least that—”

  “Riel’s eighteen!” Zoë piped up.

  “Glad to hear that. Riel, there are laws.” Lucie paused to let her point sink in. “If Zoë doesn’t get in my car now, I’ll go home and call the sheriff—”