Книга - Home to Safe Harbor

Home to Safe Harbor
Kate Welsh


Reverend Justine Clemens returns to the town where she spent her rebellious youth, determined to prove herself. And to make her flock the family she never had. But God clearly has other ideas for her. First He limits the scope of her ministry. Then He brings her head-to-head with Chief Matthew Trent and his three daughters.Being with Matthew reawakens Justine' s long-buried desire to have her own family. But she' s forced to make some hard choices when the Safe Harbor gossips start talking behind her back. Will God give Justine the courage to stop listening to all the voices around her… and listen to her heart?









“Maybe you could come and be our new mommy,” Gina said, tilting her head.


Matt cringed. “Quiet, kitten. You can’t ask a stranger to be your mommy. I’m sorry,” he said to Justine as his five-year-old daughter ran off to play. “I didn’t see that one coming at all.”

“Relax. I’m fairly positive you didn’t recruit her as a matchmaker,” Justine assured him. Then a teasing light entered her eyes. “So has Gina recruited any other good possibilities?”

“I think maybe she just did,” he quipped, then nearly swallowed his tongue. Where had that come from? He’d just flirted with the new minister.

He just couldn’t seem to think of her as Reverend Clemens. Since the moment he’d set his eyes on her, she’d been a beautiful woman he’d really wanted to meet and get to know. How to do that with a minister, however, would take a little thought.




KATE WELSH


is a two-time winner of Romance Writers of America’s coveted Golden Heart Award and a finalist for RWA’s RITA


Award in 1999. Kate lives in Havertown, PA, with her husband of over thirty years. Kate has a married daughter. And with the marriage came a wonderful new son. Her happy home includes one remaining daughter, a Chespeake Bay retriever and a cat he wishes would be his friend.

There are few crafts Kate hasn’t tried. Those ideas she can’t resist grace her home and those of her friends and family. But she refuses to discuss her addiction to do-it-yourself TV and all those lovely projects waiting on the back burner!

As a child she often lost herself in creating make-believe worlds and happily-ever-after tales. Kate turned back to creating happy endings when her husband challenged her to write down the stories in her head. With Jesus so much a part of her life, Kate found it natural to incorporate Him into her writing. Her goal is to entertain her readers with wholesome stories of the love between two people the Lord has brought together and to teach His truth while she entertains.




Home to Safe Harbor

Kate Welsh







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


I am the light of the world. He who follows Me

shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life.

—John 8:12


For Miranda and Erica—

Nothing is so precious as good health or the beauty

that shines from within you, because God is within

you. He will always see your beauty as long as you

love Him. Keep up the good work. We all love you

and are proud of you for how far you’ve come.


Dear Reader,

I hope you’ve enjoyed Home to Safe Harbor and all the other Safe Harbor books. When my editor asked if I was interested in joining the other wonderful authors slated to create Safe Harbor and the townsfolk, I jumped at the chance and the challenge.

The added challenge of writing about a female in ministry certainly got my creative juices flowing, and I picked my theme of giving control of our lives over to God. Within hours I knew Justine would struggle with her role in the church and the difficulty many women in ministry still face. Then I mixed in an inner struggle with her most worldly desires and how they could fit with God’s plan for her just to make things interesting!

Matthew came next. I decided he’d lost much in his lifetime but had many blessings, as well. I gave him a protector’s personality and a challenge in the form of a problem with one of his precious daughters. Parenthood is our most important and difficult responsibility in life. Our most rewarding, too. And Matt, being a hero, had to be a good father who was loathe to share his responsibility or the control of their lives or his to anyone—even God.

It didn’t take long to know what silent specter could be shadowing one of his children undetected. Twice, anorexia has touched a child close to my family and twice, full of fear for their children, parents ventured forth seeking an answer and help. And as Matt and Justine learned, this is an insidious disease that manifests itself with symptoms that lead to one conclusion—dieting as the cause—while the problem is something more complex and difficult to solve.

I would like to thank the Renfrew Center and its staff, whose invaluable help aided not only me in the writing of this book but a very special girl in her time of need. I urge anyone who sees the signs described in Home to Safe Harbor in any young person to visit www.renfrew.org or e-mail questions to inquiries@renfew.org. Then find help.

Philadelphia is blessed with the Renfrew Center on whose facility, principles and treatment plan I based the Mittler Center. Only, the personal story of the Mittler family was fiction. And above all, don’t forget to pray for your loved one to the Great Healer for whom no disease is too much.

Love,









Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen




Chapter One


Reverend Justine Clemens stood frozen before the entire congregation of First Peninsula Church, managing to hold a smile in place through sheer determination. In her hands, she held the plaque she’d just accepted amid thunderous applause. Clearly, everyone thought she should be thrilled.

They were certainly thrilled.

But she was devastated.

The sign on her new office door would not read “Reverend Justine Clemens—Assistant Pastor.” That’s what she’d thought Reverend Burns and the board meant when they’d asked her to stay on permanently to assist him. Instead the plaque she now held tightly clutched in her hands read “Reverend Justine Clemens—Women and Youth Pastor.”

Once again she’d been relegated to a traditional role for women in the church. Once again she was on the road to having no one and nothing to call her own.

When Reverend Burns retired—and at seventy, how far off could that be?—she’d thought these people would be her flock. That they would look to her for guidance. Be her family. How could she have so completely misunderstood this position? Had it been wishful thinking? Self delusion?

The corners of the brass plaque bit into her hands and she managed to relax her trembling grip just a little. But, as she did, she also had to blink back the tears that threatened to give her away. Reverend Burns had just handed her what he clearly thought of as first prize, but she knew it to be the honorable mention it was.

He stood next to her at the front of the church, smiling and looking more like a man of sixty these days. When she’d visited him following his first knee surgery last March he’d looked all of his seventy years plus a few.

“There’s been a lot of speculation that I’m ready for long days fishing or even quieter days reading my worn and ragged Bible,” Reverend Thomas Burns told his congregation, that precious book held lovingly in his hand. “Well, I’m here to tell you I’ve never felt younger.” He smiled fondly down from the top step of the altar and used his other hand to pat his rapidly thinning girth. “It’s a miracle what new knees and exercise will do for a body.” He chuckled. “Mine, anyway.”

At a sudden clearing of Dr. Robert Maguire’s throat, scattered chuckles echoed through the sanctuary. Reverend Burns blushed a bit. “I know. I know,” he said pointing at the doctor. “You’ve been telling me this for years. And you were right. To be honest with all of you, I had considered retiring. During my enforced downtime, though, I found out rather quickly that I’d go loopy if I did. And I don’t think the Lord would be happy with a man in his prime hanging up his robes.” Reverend Burns moved closer to Justine, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Well, now, enough about me. Back to the reason I asked the board to hire Reverend Clemens in this new capacity. For a long time I’ve been feeling out of touch with some of you. So when I noticed how well Justine was able to relate to the younger women and teens, it seemed best for everyone to bring her on board permanently as pastor to the women and youth of First Peninsula Church.

“I also want to thank you all for making my young friend feel welcome and for proving Thomas Wolfe wrong. You really can go home again, and we’re all glad she’s come back to us. The ladies of the Safe Harbor Women’s League have put together a little luncheon to officially welcome Reverend Clemens. Won’t you join us in the church hall?”

Justine blindly followed Reverend Burns out of the sanctuary and down the steps that led to the first-floor basement and the church hall. The morning light streamed through the high arched windows and fell on the mural the church’s administrative assistant, Kit Peters, had recently done on the side wall. Justine felt a little peace descend on her troubled soul as she gazed at the pastoral scene of trees and rolling hills and the distant flock of sheep tended by a gentle-eyed Jesus.

There was a lot of activity and laughter in the kitchen at the far end of the room, where an array of beverages was already set out on the stainless-steel counter between the hall and kitchen. Folding tables and chairs were scattered around the highly polished hardwood floor. A giant banner stretched above the kitchen pass-through read Welcome Home to Safe Harbor.

Of course, she’d been back in Safe Harbor for six months. She’d returned to her hometown for the first time in ten years to answer a call for help from Reverend Burns—a call that couldn’t have come at a better time. The day before he’d contacted her asking her to fill in for him, she’d gotten upsetting news. The inner-city Chicago church where she’d served since divinity school had decided to hire a much younger and less experienced minister—a man—to replace the retiring pastor. What had distressed her the most was that the recommendation had come from the pastor to whom she’d been an assistant for ten years.

She had been hurt and seeking God’s guidance when Reverend Burns called asking for her help. She’d talked to him earlier in the week and he’d mentioned the possibility of needing surgery, but then he’d fallen while trying to help in the search for one of Holly Douglas’s five-year-old twin boys. Little Aidan had gotten lost on the nature trails in a sudden early-March snowstorm. Aidan was found, and the accident had seemed an answer to prayers, for Justine as well as for Reverend Burns. It had given her the chance to gain perspective and to rediscover the peace and love of her hometown.

She loved Reverend Burns like a father. Certainly more than she did her own faithless father. The reverend had led her to the Lord in her rebellious youth, and his kindly guidance had influenced her to pursue a vocation in ministry. But now, standing at what was supposed to be a celebration of her new position, Justine felt only hurt and disappointed by her mentor and friend. Following his lead, she took off her robe and hung it in the closet, still hiding her inner turmoil.

What are you telling me, Lord?

The hall filled quickly and everyone was in the mood to celebrate. Everyone but Justine. She somehow managed to keep a bright face on, as one after another, members of the congregation stopped to congratulate her on her new position.

“You’re upset,” Reverend Burns said when he returned to her side about half an hour later with coffee for them. His brows were drawn together in a worried frown.

Justine started and felt a blush heat her face. If he knew, did everyone know?

“Relax. I doubt anyone else noticed, but I know you too well to be fooled by that pasted-on smile. What is it, dear?”

Justine had never been able to hide the truth from Reverend Burns, not from that first day he’d caught her cutting school and enjoying a cigarette behind the gazebo in Safe Harbor Park with her new friends.

“I thought you asked me to stay on to be your assistant.”

Reverend Burns’s eyebrows climbed, further laddering his lined forehead. “That’s exactly what you will be.”

Justine turned the plaque she still held toward him. “But it’s a ministry limited to women and children.”

The older man sighed, shaking his head slightly. “You’re still seeing the glass half-empty, Justine. You are an absolute wonder with the teens and younger women, not to mention the little ones. You relate to them in a way I find I no longer can. They make up a good portion of the congregation. I want them going to you for help. You can do a lot of good.”

She was embarrassed by what sounded like selfish motives. “I feel as if it’s happening again.” The words tumbled out. “I thought I was being put in position to take your place one day. And I know you and the board wouldn’t have limited the scope of my ministry if you had confidence in me that I could replace you. It feels like Chicago all over again.”

“But it isn’t the same, and we do have confidence in you,” Reverend Burns said gently. “Don’t let the human failings of some of God’s servants take your eyes and trust off Him. And seek His plan for your life, dear, not your own. I very much fear that is what you’ve been doing all along.” He held up his hand to stop her automatic defense. “I’m not saying your call to the ministry wasn’t real. I’m saying that maybe He has something for you that you’re blind to. I don’t know what His plan is, but for now, why not do the job He’s sent you and see what comes of it?”

Justine nodded jerkily, trying to hold back the emotions that surged in her. She could see the wisdom in his words, but following his advice would be a challenge.

“Excuse me, Reverend Clemens. Reverend Burns.” A deep voice interrupted her struggle for composure. “I wonder if I might have a word with you before the kids descend on us.”

Past hurts and new ones flew out of Justine’s mind when she followed the sound of that husky voice to a point just over her head.

It was him.

At five foot ten, she wasn’t used to looking up at many people. At least, not as far as she had to look up right now. She found herself snared by eyes an even deeper brown than her own. They were nearly obsidian.

For weeks she’d seen Matthew Trent around town and in church, and now she had a voice to put with that hauntingly handsome face. A dangerous combination of tall, dark and gorgeous, he was the new chief of police, and he distracted Justine every time she noticed him. Once, even in the middle of a sermon!

No man had ever affected her the way he did. No man had ever taken her eyes off her ministry, or made her heart pump harder with the simple sound of his voice. She watched as Reverend Burns turned to him with a friendly smile.

“Chief Trent, what can we do for you?”

“Actually, I wondered if one or both of you might be able to give me a little advice regarding a sixteen-year-old and trouble.”

Reverend Burns held up his hand. “No time like the present to bow to the younger generation. I’ll leave you to Justine’s wisdom. There’s a reason we hired her and this is it.”

“But you know I still rely on your guidance,” she protested, slightly alarmed at the thought of being alone with Matthew Trent. Justine took a fortifying breath, trying to still her pounding heart. What was wrong with her? They were in a room with more than a hundred people. Instead of protesting further, she forced a smile and nodded toward some empty tables in the far corner of the reception room.

“Would you mind sitting, Chief Trent?” she asked, hoping that with a table between her and the former FBI agent she would feel less distracted and intimidated by him. Calm and cool, he clearly didn’t experience any of the terrifying feelings in her presence that she felt in his.

“Please. Make it Matt,” he said, and moved toward the nearest empty table.

She was tempted not to respond in kind, wanting the distance her ministerial title gave her, but she knew that wouldn’t be right. Trying to ignore Matthew Trent’s blatant masculinity, Justine followed him to the table he’d chosen.

“Is this okay, Reverend Clemens?” He pulled out a chair for her at a table away from the others. “I don’t want anyone to overhear and guess who we’re talking about.”

She smiled at that. Did he really think she didn’t already know who the misdirected teen was? “Call me Justine and tell me what Alan Tobridge has done now.”

He grimaced. “Am I that obvious?”

“No. But Alan is.” Justine grinned. “Unfortunately, I can relate to exactly what he’s going through. You haven’t been here very long, but you’ll eventually hear about my own rebellious years.”

Matt chuckled. “What did you do? Cover your bible in bright purple? Wear red to church?”

Justine tried to ignore the tingle the low timber of his quiet laughter chased along her spine. “No,” she said, distracted and strangely drawn to this man who was so concerned for someone else’s child. “But I do remember having red and purple liberty spikes once upon a time.”

“Liberty spikes?”

She grinned, suddenly relishing the opportunity to burst his stereotype bubble, though she usually cringed at talk of her turbulent youth. “First you take white glue, then you grab sections of hair…” She pulled a piece of hair straight out to the side to illustrate. Grinning, she tilted her head, leaving a long silence.

He broke it with a groan. “How could you say something like that to a man raising three daughters all by himself? I mean, you’re a minister. If you pulled stunts like that, I’m doomed.”

She’d observed him with his daughters. It was easy to see the love and affection within his family. “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist. What I’m getting at is, I think Alan and I have a few things in common. My mother forgot I was alive most of the time.” Justine let her gaze survey the party before making eye contact with Matthew Trent. “Arlene and Jeffrey Tobridge aren’t bad people, but they’ve bought heavily into relative morality. They let Alan do whatever he wants. If it feels good, it’s okay. When he makes bad choices, they go to bat for him to get him out of trouble. My kid, right or wrong.”

Matthew nodded. “I don’t think he’s a bad kid. I think he’s trying to get their attention and their love. When they came to the station last night to pick him up, you could almost see the kid begging them to say they couldn’t condone his behavior. But they have every intention of having the flower beds he destroyed up at the Lighthouse B & B replaced professionally. They’ve also offered to pay for the bracelet he walked off with from The Quest last week. Plus they’ve already arranged to have the library cleaned after he let that skunk loose in there.”

Matt sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. “I know Judge Howard is going to go along with more parental restitution. And it isn’t going to stop the way Alan’s acting out. Charles Creasy held the parents responsible when he had my job and the judge always agreed with him. In a way they are, but— I don’t even know why I’m bothering you about this.” He frowned looking troubled. “Yes, I do. Do you have any idea how I stop this kid? Somebody’s going to get hurt and he’s going to ruin his life trying to prove his parents really do love him. What got you out of liberty spikes?”

Justine’s eyes were on the senior pastor as he chatted with an engaged couple, and she smiled. “Reverend Burns talked me out of my spikes and into the church. He convinced me I was only hurting myself—and I was. Nobody suffered but me if I skipped school, or dyed my hair some outrageous color, or smoked or stayed out all night. As I said, my mother barely knew I was around. But Alan is hurting others in trying to get his parents to put the brakes on his antics. I tried stopping him on the street after the library incident, but it was no go.” She leaned forward. “So I have another idea. Unfortunately, you’d have to supervise him, and I’d need to get Russ and Annie Mitchard to agree. After all, he hurt them when he stole the bracelet from Russ’s shop and destroyed Annie’s beautiful flower beds. I think Alan needs to see how his actions affect his victims by working off his debts to them.” She relaxed against the back of her chair. “The Mitchards’ feelings need to be taken into account, though. They may not want to deal with him.”

Matthew Trent’s eyes widened and he nodded. “What an insightful idea. I have no problem supervising the kid, but who’s going to talk Judge Howard into this?”

Justine pointed toward Reverend Burns and said conspiratorially. “The judge’s godfather, our pastor.”

Matthew’s mouth kicked up on one side in an endearing grin, just as all the children thundered into the hall with their teachers. “Daddy,” a cherub-cheeked five-year-old girl shouted and ran to Matthew. Her cap of curly chestnut-brown hair and dark eyes mirrored those of her adoring father.

“Hi, kitten,” he said, standing and swinging the little girl up high into his arms.

Justine found it hard to look at them together. There were times she wished she had the courage to take a chance on love and a family, but those things were not for her. She couldn’t be a pastor and a mother. Leading a church was too demanding. It wouldn’t be fair to the children. And besides that, she couldn’t be a mother without first being a wife, and she’d never trust any man with her heart. She’d watched firsthand what could happen to a woman who loved and lost. Especially when the man appeared to be all that was brave, heroic and trustworthy. It only hurt more to be betrayed by the likes of a George Clemens. Or a Matthew Trent.




Chapter Two


Matt had never been so relieved to see his kids. What had begun as a sort of strategy session with the new youth pastor had become uncomfortably…well…comfortable.

Originally he’d considered waiting till Reverend Burns was alone, but he’d foolishly disdained the cowardly impulse.

So what if he’d noticed Justine Clemens’s golden hair flying in a brisk wind off the lake the very day he’d first set foot in this little town to interview with the mayor and town council. So what if, for the first time in well over two years, he’d felt the sharp sting of desire for a woman. And so what if he’d been thoroughly embarrassed to learn the woman who’d reawakened that part of his life was the new minister at First Peninsula Church.

Like an idiot he’d tempted fate and approached both ministers to seek advice. And seconds later, instead of talking with two ministers or the older man, Matt had found himself talking with a bright and friendly woman named Justine. A woman he’d already known he was very attracted to. She’d turned out to be not just beautiful, but kind and funny and wise, as well.

“Girls, say hello to Reverend Clemens,” he told the three children, as he held his youngest daughter in his arms.

“Hello, Reverend,” the older two girls said in unison.

Gina, his five year old imp, really did have all the curiosity of a kitten. She tilted her head, scrunched her face and obediently said, “Hi.” Then, in his ear and in a kind of wet stage whisper, she continued, “She’s a lady and she don’t look at all like Reverend Burns.”

Justine blinked, then laughed, clearly having heard. “All ministers aren’t men and we don’t all look like Reverend Burns.”

Gina stared at Justine for a moment. “Do you got a husband?” she asked, her curiosity obviously caught by the idea of a female minister.

“No,” Justine answered, matching Gina’s serious tone perfectly.

Gina’s frown deepened. “Maybe you could come be our new mommy. Daddy’d share us. He’s pretty used to it ’cause he had to share us with our sick dead mommy.”

Matt cringed and wanted to crawl under the table. “Quiet, kitten, you can’t ask a stranger to be your mother. Remember, we talked about this already. I’m sorry,” he said to Justine. “I didn’t see that one coming at all.”

Wagging her stubby little finger to emphasize each word, Gina explained patiently, “But, Daddy, you got to listen. You said I can’t ask an already married lady to be our mommy. I asked this time. See I ’membered what you told me after I asked Ms. Dalton back at my old school to come live with us.”

Matt’s heartbeat sped up at the sound of Justine’s chuckle. Flustered, he all but begged his oldest daughter, “Leslie, would you take the girls over and get them a little snack? We’ll talk about this later, kitten.”

At thirteen, Les was such a big help. She had become a regular little mother to her nine-and five-year-old sisters. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. With a little nod of her head and a little roll of her eyes, Les ushered Cindy and Gina toward the kitchen.

“Relax, I’m fairly positive you didn’t recruit her as a matchmaker,” Justine assured him.

“Count on it! Last spring she noticed all the kids in her preschool had mommies. She started a campaign to get one for herself. My late wife, Diane, once told me that as soon as your children can talk, you no longer have the luxury of pride. She’s forever being proven right by Gina.”

Justine chuckled again—and again his heart rolled in his chest.

“She’s adorable. Don’t give it another thought.” Then a teasing little light entered Justine’s brown eyes. “So how come you and this Ms. Dalton aren’t an item.”

“That was back in Green Bay.” He sighed. “I honestly thought the campaign was over. And Mrs. Dalton wasn’t exactly my type. She was an assistant teacher at Gina’s preschool. I’m afraid Mr. Dalton, who had been married to Mrs. Dalton for nearly fifty years, would have been just a little upset to lose her to a younger man.”

“I imagine he would. Has Gina recruited any other good possibilities?”

“I think maybe she just did,” he quipped, then nearly swallowed his tongue. Where had that come from? He’d just flirted with the new minister!

Justine blushed and turned away, gesturing across the room. “I see Russ and Annie Mitchard over by the mural. I think we should ask them how our little plan to straighten out Alan sits with them. You’ll have to let me know how it all works out in the end, if they agree.”

As they approached Russ and Annie, Matt was sorry Justine had cut the conversation off, but at the same time, he was grateful. He just couldn’t seem to go back to thinking of her as Reverend Clemens. Then again, he never really had. Since the moment he had first set his eyes on her, she’d been a beautiful woman he really wanted to meet and get to know. Deciding how to do that with a minister, however, would take a little thought.



Three days later Judge Howard sentenced Alan Tobridge to two hundred hours of community service. For the next several months he’d be Matt’s responsibility three afternoons a week and every other Saturday. Judge Howard also levied a fine of five hundred dollars to help defray the cost of Alan’s vandalism up at Annie Mitchard’s B & B. The teen wouldn’t have much time to get in trouble because he had to work off the fine with a part-time job at The Quest. Matt had stopped to tell Russ at the silversmith’s shop first, and then he’d gone to tell Russ’s wife Annie, up at the B & B.

Now, on his way back down Lake Drive, he noticed Justine walking across the street toward Market Square. He imagined she was on her way to the church to get ready for Wednesday evening services. It seemed only neighborly to stop and tell her how court had gone and to offer her a ride.

Matt gave a short bleep on his siren to get her attention as he coasted to a stop behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, then walked back to his squad car as he lowered the window. He could tell her smile was automatic because she seemed to catch herself, straighten and put on an expression he guessed she thought made her look ministerial. He grinned. To him she just looked kind of cute trying not to look like a knockout.

“Was I about to jaywalk or something, Chief Trent?”

“I thought we’d established that I’m Matt. And no, you’re still on the right side of the law. I wanted to let you know how Alan’s hearing went this afternoon.”

“Oh?”

“Reverend Burns must have done a good sales job.”

“Then, the judge went along?”

“Howard went with the whole plan. Want a lift? I could probably be going your way, and I can let you know the specifics.”

She looked as if she might accept but then shook her head. “The exercise is good for me, and this weather won’t last long now that summer’s almost over.”

Matt couldn’t argue with that, even though he wanted to, so he nodded, bid her a good day and drove on. He wished he could get her out of his head, because, after two gentle rebuffs, he’d begun to think she didn’t want to be there.

Maybe she wasn’t ready to explore a relationship. When Justine had first gotten his attention, he’d felt disloyal to Diane. Then he’d remembered how Diane, a few days before her death, had made him promise not to cry, not to grieve too long and not to stay alone too long. She’d been right. Even with the girls, he was lonely. They were the center of his world—his link to the woman he’d chosen as his life partner. But they weren’t enough.

Little by little his life had filled in. He’d had a good career with the FBI. It was interesting and challenging. But when Cindy was nearly kidnapped, he’d made his first big decision for the girls’ welfare on his own. Before that, missing Diane’s sensitive and insightful opinions, he’d turned to his in-laws for advice.

That had backfired, of course.

Mary and Seth Gainer had been like parents to him, but slowly he’d noticed their becoming intrusive. He had lost count of the times he’d come home from work to find they had arrived uninvited and sent the girls’ sitter home for the day. Or the times he’d planned an outing and found them suddenly included.

He had decided things had to change, but before he’d figured out what to do, little Cindy was snatched right off the school playground. If one of the teachers hadn’t blocked the small city street with her car, the kidnapper would have gotten away and done who knows what to his precious daughter. A week later, thanks to his best friend, Ray Hunter, who lived in Safe Harbor, Matt had formulated and nailed down the perfect fix to all his problems.

He’d gone to his in-laws and told them of his plan to move the girls to Safe Harbor, an hour the other side of Green Bay, up the Door Peninsula, where he’d take over for Charles Creasy as Safe Harbor’s police chief.

And they’d turned on him.

They’d said he would never make it without their help. That he couldn’t raise the girls alone. Then they’d gone behind his back and asked the girls if they wouldn’t rather live with them and visit him on weekends. It had confused Leslie and upset the younger girls, making them all think they had to choose sides. And all because he’d wanted to raise his children in a safer environment.

And he’d been right. Here in Safe Harbor he didn’t have to worry as much. Everyone knew everyone else. Tourists were welcome but noticed, as well. His girls were safer in their new town. Much safer. They’d be happy here. He’d make sure of it.



Leslie Trent stopped at the trash can between the high school and the elementary school to ditch her lunch. She’d lost fifteen pounds in two weeks. She smiled. That had to be some kind of record! She might even post it on the chat room she’d found last night. She looked around but there were too many people watching. She’d been warned on the Web site to watch for witnesses and not to trust anyone. She’d toss the bag away in the bathroom at the station house. That would be better.

“Fatty fatty the big bad pig’s her Daddy,” Alan Tobridge shouted as he drove past with his friends. She hated him, and she hated this town.

But at least Alan Tobridge would have to eat his words soon. This morning after her shower she’d noticed her ribs showing in really great definition, just like the Web site promised. She was getting good definition around her hip bones, too. It was so easy. She just didn’t eat. Like the Web site said, she was in control of what went into her mouth even if she had to lie and sneak around to keep that control. It was so great to be able to do something about a part of her life she didn’t like.

Everything else might be out of her control, but this wasn’t. Now all the pants she’d grown out of last year fit again, and pretty soon, when they were too big, she’d get her dad to take her shopping. He’d never notice what size she was buying. Her dad was such a man when it came to clothes.

She rolled her eyes. Lately she’d begun to think he wasn’t too bright about anything. Like moving them to the sticks for a better life. Better life? The kids here looked at her like a bug under a microscope or part of an alien invasion. She hadn’t made one single friend at school, but how could she tell that to her dad? Everyone loved her dad the moment they met him.

She hadn’t seen Nanna and Grandpa for nearly three months, either. Not since they’d argued with her father about the move to Safe Harbor. He was dumb about that night, too. He didn’t think she’d heard the things they’d said because she was in bed, but it was he who hadn’t been listening. They’d said smart things like, sure, it was scary what happened to Cindy but the guy hadn’t gotten away. And that her dad was leaving a great career with a great future to be a plain old cop in the sticks. All he kept saying was that she and Cindy and Gina were his kids and he’d do what he thought was best for them. And that Nanna and Grandpa had betrayed his trust. Just because they didn’t agree with him and had asked the kids to live with them? When had her dad gotten so over-sensitive?

Cindy and Gina came out of the school a few minutes later. After she’d made sure they both had all the books they needed to do their homework, they walked along the footpath from the school to the police station so Daddy could drive them home.

There was a path through the woods that led to Haven Hills where their new house was, but he wouldn’t let them use it. Apparently walking in the woods was too dangerous. So why did he move them to the sticks and away from Green Bay, where there were sidewalks to everywhere?

When they got to the station house, Leslie stopped at the front window to inspect her reflection. She still looked fat. Maybe another five or ten pounds would do the trick. She’d get dinner all ready again and tell Dad she’d eaten while she cooked, so she could get to her homework while he and the girls ate. He’d always believed her so far. Maybe she’d skip dinner every night. It would be worth the extra work of cooking dinner alone if she got away with skipping eating. That would have her down to one meal a day.

Good thing her dad was so out of it lately.




Chapter Three


After delivering the Harkins children to their respective classrooms, Justine walked back to the table in the church hall where she signed up the new arrivals to After-School Days. She couldn’t believe the positive response to the program. In just three weeks it had made a positive change in the community. She’d known there were several members of the Women’s League and First Peninsula Church who were worried about the rising cost of after-school care, or about leaving their older children home alone or watching their younger siblings during those last hours of the workday. She’d known, but still she hadn’t expected to have this many of Safe Harbor’s children signed up.

A former latchkey kid herself, she knew firsthand about the loneliness of those late-afternoon hours and the pressure from peers. A house without parents was often the “party house,” whether the adolescent in residence wanted it to be or not.

“This is just plain dumb, Daddy,” Leslie Trent complained as the Trent clan tramped down the steps to the church hall. “You said I’m taking good care of Cindy and Gina. I’m really insulted by this.”

“So you’ve said. I told you, sweetheart, I think you take excellent care of them. I’m just worried that you shouldn’t have to. I’ve put too much on your shoulders lately.”

“But I like taking care of them.”

“Look, humor your old dad. This is the time of your life you should be enjoying yourself. Give it a couple weeks. Okay, princess?”

“Are these new participants?” Justine said, forcing herself to sound thrilled. But inside, her stomach did a quick flip, then a slow roll. She was going to have a living, breathing reminder of Matthew Trent every day—three of them, in fact. He already invaded her dreams. Broke her concentration. And worse, battered at the walls surrounding her heart with his obvious devotion to his little girls. Now she was doomed to witness the love he showed them, every day except Saturday.

Why are You doing this to me, Lord?

“I’m sure you remember Gina. She’s in all-day kindergarten,” Matt said as he put a hand lovingly on Gina’s head, then moved the caress to his nexteldest child. “This is Cindy. She’s in fourth grade. And last but first in the family is Leslie, who doesn’t think she needs to be here.”

Justine filled in the girls’ sign-up sheets. “Well,” she said, and took a deep calming breath, which unfortunately drew in the scent of Matt’s aftershave, “I guess we’ll have to do our best to change your mind, Leslie. Welcome to After-School Days, all three of you. Several of our senior citizens have volunteered to help the older kids with homework. We also got a donation of several computers, and I had high-speed Internet hooked up today so you can do research for school projects. We also have a cooperative agreement with the library. Miss Neal will be taking a group over there almost every day, so that’s a possibility, too. You just have to sign up for either when you need it. Everyone will take turns.”

She turned to look at the still-mutinous Leslie. “If you really like working with younger children, Leslie, several of the older high school girls have volunteered to help the younger children with homework and to assist in those rooms with general mayhem-control. I’m sure your help would be greatly appreciated.”

That, at least, got a small smile from the girl. Feeling like a comedian trying to win over a tough crowd, Justine went on. “And we got a wonderful surprise today. Monica Tobridge came by and asked if I’d like her to run a cheerleading class even though she isn’t a church member. The sign-up sheet is over on the bulletin board.”

“Her brother’s a creep,” Leslie muttered.

“Yeah. He sometimes yells mean stuff at us,” Cindy put in. Leslie poked her.

“I guess it’s good to know it isn’t just an adult sentiment,” Justine said quickly.

Matt’s gaze was blazing. Young Mr. Tobridge had singled out the wrong man’s children to pick on. It looked as if Alan would have another lesson taught him in the next few weeks.

“Hopefully he’ll improve soon, but don’t judge Monica by Alan,” she told the children. “Now, your rooms will be the same as your regular Sunday school rooms. Why don’t we get you settled.”

“Les, will you take the girls on up. I’d like a word with Reverend Clemens,” Matt said.

Justine handed each girl one of the stick-on name tags she’d written up as they talked. “Here you go, girls, you’ll need to wear these just till your aide gets to know you.”

“Fine, but I still say this is a dumb idea,” Leslie groused as she shepherded the girls up the side steps toward the classroom wing.

“What can I do for you, Chief Trent?” she asked, trying once again for a businesslike tone.

Matt sighed as she almost knew he would. “You can stop retreating to square one each time we meet. Look, this is a new town for me and I don’t know many people on a personal level. Do you have a reason not to want me for a friend?”

Ashamed instantly, she forced a little smile. “What can I do for you, Matt?” she corrected herself. “I’m sorry. I’m still—” Justine broke off when the radio Matt carried on his hip squawked to life. There was a huge accident out on Route 7, the state highway nearest Safe Harbor. Some of the victims were pinned in their cars.

“I’ve got to go. I know it’s an imposition, but if I can’t get back in time, could you make sure the girls get home okay? Les knows to make our neighbors, the Hunters, aware that they’re alone. I went to college with both of them, and I trust them with the kids. Ray and Julie were the ones who put me on to the opening for Chief of Police here in Safe Harbor. This has never happened before, but I set it up with them in case of emergencies like this. Knowing the house next door to theirs was up for sale made the move here all the more attractive.”

Justine nodded, relieved that she didn’t have to answer his question, yet embarrassed by the cause. “I’ll see the children get home. Don’t worry. Just go. The accident sounds dreadful.”

After he left, Justine floated from age group to age group, checking on how the senior citizens who’d volunteered were getting along with the children. Everything seemed to be going fine so she returned to her makeshift desk to find Leslie just leaving the kitchen area.

“Oh, hi, Reverend Clemens,” the girl said, her hands fluttering nervously. “I was just…uh…getting a drink. Helping the little kids is kind of fun. Well, see ya.”

Justine frowned as she watched Leslie skip up the steps on her way back to the classroom wing. There were water fountains in the halls. Why hadn’t Leslie used one of them? She walked into the kitchen and looked around. There was a paper lunch bag in a trash can—a can Justine had emptied after the women’s altar guild left earlier in the day.

She dismissed the whole incident until the next day. As she checked the building before locking up, Justine got an impulse to check the trash: once again, there was a lunch bag in the can. It contained a sandwich, an apple and some carrot sticks. She wished she’d checked the one the day before because this time she found the initials LT on the bottom. Leslie Trent? Why would the girl throw out her lunch?

The same thing happened for the next two days, and Justine’s curiosity turned to concern. Matt’s daughter was secretly disposing of her lunches.

Deeply troubled, Justine thought back to the first time she’d seen the girl during the summer. There was no denying that Matt’s eldest child was increasingly fragile looking. Justine had thought the girl was just getting taller and losing baby fat, but now she was afraid it was more. Something was wrong, and these lunch bags were a clue.

It took another day to put her finger on what. When Justine pulled yet another bag from the trash on Friday, she remembered an article she’d read in a ministry periodical on eating disorders.

How was she going to tell Matt there was a chance his daughter was suffering from anorexia?



It was Friday, and Matt was looking forward to a whole weekend off. He’d managed to plow through a mountain of backed-up paperwork and was out of work an hour earlier than usual. It was a beautiful afternoon. All day he thought about taking the girls for a short hike up at Safe Harbor Park, and there was still enough light left to do so. Russ Mitchard said the park had the best wilderness trails on the peninsula.

Matt had just cleared the front door of the church building when he ran into Justine. Literally. He managed to catch her before she fell. Her scent surrounded him and she felt wonderful in his arms as she stared up at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher.

“I’m…uh…I’m so sorry,” she said, stepping back, giving him no choice but to let her go.

“Not your fault I came barreling in here and knocked you for a loop. I was in a hurry to pick up the girls. I thought we’d go for a hike before the light fails.”

“Oh. But I really need to talk to you.”

The disappointment in Justine’s face gave him a shot of pleasure. “So come with us.” The words had just popped out of his mouth. Too late, he noticed her outfit. She wasn’t really dressed for a hike. She had on a long top and slacks made of a velvety soft material that was pretty but casual.

“I…no, you don’t understand. I need to talk about Leslie.”

Confusion assailed him along with a sense of disappointment that she only wanted to talk to him about his daughter. “Leslie? Is she not settling in? She said this was working out okay.”

“As far as I know it is. She’s been getting on just fine. It isn’t that she’s any trouble.” Justine paused. “It’s something else. Have you noticed her losing weight lately? A lot of weight?”

Matt frowned. What was she getting at? “Les is getting taller, that’s all. Her clothes still fit, so she couldn’t have lost weight. You wouldn’t know this because you don’t have kids, but every once in a while they shoot up and look thinner. I guess they don’t grow everything at once. At her age, I grew six inches in one summer and didn’t gain an ounce. I could hardly keep my pants up.”

Justine didn’t crack a smile. He watched as she took a deep breath. “Matt, I’ve found her lunch in the trash four days in a row. Earlier today when I asked her why, she said she doesn’t like what you pack but doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Leslie normally packed all of the lunches, but he wasn’t about to tell Justine that. She seemed to be implying he wasn’t taking good care of his kids. Or that they were afraid to speak their minds.

Brother. He was batting a thousand lately. First Mary and Seth, two people he’d thought of as parents since marrying their daughter, had begun doubting his ability to raise the girls without their mother and criticizing his every decision. And now the first person he’d been attracted to since Diane’s death was calling him an incompetent parent.

“Leslie can say anything to me she wants,” he growled. “And she knows it. If she’d said she wanted something else for lunch, I’d have seen she had it.”

“I have no doubt of that. I don’t think she wants something else for lunch. In fact, Gina told me it’s Leslie who makes the lunches.”

“I don’t appreciate your questioning my children, Reverend.”

Justine stiffened. It was as if he saw a barrier form around her.

“I didn’t question Gina, Chief Trent. She offered the information in one of her sweet, running advertisements for a mother. I came to you with a concern for your child. Not to inspire an attack on my motives. I’m terribly afraid Leslie may have an eating disorder.”

Matt shook his head. There was nothing wrong with his Leslie. She was losing her baby fat. And she’d gotten taller. Hadn’t he said that already?

Justine stepped forward and put her hand on his forearm. He could see her concern for Leslie in her eyes and hear it in her voice.

“I’m not criticizing. A blind man could see how much you love those girls. But you can’t afford to be blind to their faults and problems. Matt, please don’t discount what I’m saying. Watch her. Carefully. If I’m right, and I pray I’m not, this can be very dangerous. Anorexia is insidious and it’s a silent killer.”

“Leslie’s fine,” he insisted.

Before Justine could once again rebut his assertion, the clamor of little feet sounded down the hall from the classroom wing.

Minutes later he had both the little ones with him and watched Leslie strolling along the hall and down the steps. All at once she looked so alone to him. Maybe watching her closely wouldn’t be such a bad idea. After all, the girls were in this program because he’d been worried about Les.



As they started to put dinner together, Matt made it a point to notice if Leslie really did pick at what they were making for dinner. He felt guilty and almost sneaky. As if he were spying on her.

“Don’t you like dinner, Les?” he felt compelled to ask when he noticed how little of her meal she was actually eating. They all sat around the big maple table Diane had so lovingly restored. As far as Diane had been concerned, family meals were the center of the universe.

“Dinner’s fine, Daddy. But ham is a little fattening. I just don’t want to be fat. That’s all.”

That was the first he’d heard that she was worried about her weight. Maybe there was something here he needed to address. And maybe she had lost a little weight along with the inches she’d gained. On the walk, he had noticed Les just sort of floated along with a growing grace that made his heart ache and made him aware that his little girl was headed inexorably toward womanhood.

“Are you on a diet, princess?” he asked casually.

She shrugged. “Not really. I just like my clothes to fit loose. You know. Grandma’s no lightweight, either. When I get older, if I already eat right, I won’t have to worry that I’ll look like her. And I can look like the models in Pizzazz and Mystique.”

Matt sighed. America—a plastic surgeon’s paradise! Where men were supposed to be over-muscled and women were starting to look the same except for their out-of-proportion breasts.

“You know all those women don’t really look like that naturally, don’t you? Some have surgery and most of their photos are retouched.”

That got Leslie’s attention. Her head snapped up. “You think so?”

“Oh. Yeah. I saw it on a TV show about special effects. A graphic artist trims thighs, arms, hips, whatever the photographer wants slimmed down with the computer. It’s all smoke and mirrors. Your mother never dieted. She just ate healthy and let the good Lord take care of how she looked. And she looked wonderful. You will, too.”

Leslie tilted her head and frowned, clearly thinking about what he’d said. “You thought Mom was pretty?”

He could think of Diane now and remember her before the cancer. He smiled and knew it had a wistful quality. But that was okay. He’d never hidden his grief from the kids. They knew he missed their mom as much as they did. “She was perfect. Didn’t you think so?”

Her eyes shone and she nodded. “She was. Wasn’t she? Thanks, Daddy,” she told him with a sweet broad smile.

Matt gave a sigh of relief. Leslie was going to be fine. Justine had just panicked. Now all he had to do was apologize to the pretty minister for putting her in the crosshairs of his insecurities over single parenthood. He couldn’t believe how he’d spoken to her. And all because she cared about his daughter.




Chapter Four


Justine heard footsteps in the hall coming toward her office. She looked up from the lesson she’d prepared for her newly instituted Wednesday night youth service. While she was ready for a visitor, she wasn’t ready to find Chief Matthew Trent and his wide shoulders filling her doorway.

The quickened beat of her heart told her a forewarning probably wouldn’t have helped, anyway. To see Matt was to—and oh, how she hated admitting this even to herself—desire him. That he was in uniform didn’t help. What was it about men in uniform? And why didn’t being a minister exempt her from those kind of thoughts? They were entirely inappropriate, and besides that, embarrassing and inconvenient!

“Got a minute?” Matt asked, and Justine felt immediate contrition. The man was clearly troubled.

“Come in. What can I do for you?”

“A couple things, actually,” he said, sinking into the chair across from her desk. “I’ve been meaning to get over here to see you ever since Friday but, with one thing and another going on, my time’s been a little tight.”

“I noticed the girls weren’t at Sunday school. Frankly, I worried that I’d chased you all away.”

“Of course you didn’t chase us away. Gina was up sick all night Saturday, so we slept in. The reason I wanted to see you is to say I was wrong to snap at you on Friday. I’d like to apologize. You were just concerned for Les, and I overreacted instead of being appreciative that you’d worry about her.”

He raked a hand through his shock of dark hair. “I’m afraid I’m a little sensitive about the girls. I made the mistake of leaning heavily on my in-laws after Diane died. Then, when Cindy was taken—”

“Taken?”

Matt sat back and crossed his ankle over his knee. “I assumed you knew what prompted our move here. Cindy was snatched from the playground at school last spring.”

Justine’s hand flew to cover her heart. “Oh dear Lord. That’s horrible.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds as if to banish the horror, then opened them and nodded. “We got lucky. A teacher who’d had Cindy in a previous grade happened to be leaving for a doctor’s appointment. She saw Cindy in the car crying. She knew me, and since I wasn’t the driver, she decided to make sure everything was all right. She drove her car across the street and blocked his car in. Better safe than sorry, she thought, and, of course, she was right. One of the male teachers saw what was happening, saw the vehicle turn around, and chased it on foot, hoping to get the plate number, at least. When the car had to stop, he managed to get the door open with Cindy’s help and pulled her out. The perp fled on foot, but the police had him in custody within the hour.”

“You must have been terrified for her.”

Matt nodded. “And that’s why I decided to move somewhere safer. My in-laws weren’t so understanding. They live about an hour the other side of Green Bay. Seth’s seventy now. He was never much of a driver, but now he hates driving through the city or on high-speed highways. And, of course, they’d gotten used to stopping in every day. I know this is a long drive, but they acted as if Safe Harbor were the dark side of the moon. I’d asked their opinion on so much for so long, they must have begun to think they had a right to dictate how and where I should raise the girls. They wanted me to keep my job with the FBI and have the girls live with them, visiting on weekends. I couldn’t even consider that.”

“After losing their mother, that would have been disastrous for them.”

Matt moved in his chair, visibly restless and tense. “That’s how I felt. Anyway, Ray called about the job in Safe Harbor, and I decided the move here would be better for all concerned. My in-laws objected and even told the girls their alternative solution without consulting me.”

“I can’t think that was right, and I, for one, think you made the right decision. As I said, the girls didn’t need to lose you as well as their mother.”

“Not to hear their grandparents tell it. They don’t think I’m capable of raising three girls alone.”

Justine could hear the hurt in his voice.

“Well, anyway,” he continued, “I’m proud of my relationship with my kids. We’re close. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them. Nothing’s more important to me than they are. I’m a good father.” A note of uncertainty entered his voice.

“Of course, you are. I never doubted that for a moment,” she assured him.

“Right now, I am. Doubting me, I mean. Sort of, anyway.” He shook his head and sat straighter, dropping the relaxed cross-legged posture. “I don’t know. I thought I’d solved any problem with Leslie’s eating on Friday night. She admitted to watching her diet so she wouldn’t gain weight in her adult years. Diane’s mother is a little on the plump side, and I think it may have had Les worried. But then we had a long talk about dieting and the reality of retouched fashion magazine photos. She seemed to understand. Then last night, I caught her tossing her dinner in the trash.

“I confronted her about it, and before I knew it we were in a raging, door-slamming battle. She hates it here. Hates me for bringing her here. She should have stayed with Seth and Mary. She called me ‘stupid’ and ‘selfish’ among other things, the kindest of which was ‘dictator.’ She apologized later but…” He grimaced.

The man was heartbroken. “But you thought you were her hero and it hurts that she’s coming to see things about you she characterizes as faults.”

Matt blinked and stared at her. “How did you know that?”

“I’m smarter than the average minister because I’m a woman,” she teased, shooting him a grin.

The teasing did no good. Matt was just too upset to unwind that easily. “One of the things she really unloaded about is that practically every minute we’re together has something to do with chores. She’s right. Between trying to get completely moved in—my garage is still wall-to-wall boxes—and all the everyday things Diane would have handled while I was at work…” He sighed. “She told me later that she was just angry but… Justine, I’m not sure she meant it. I thought I knew my daughter.”

“I’m sure you do. More than the average male parent of a thirteen-year-old girl. It’s a very difficult period. So much changes in that year. I often feel sorry for those ninth graders. They don’t really belong in the junior high building nor the high school building. She’s growing up, Matt, and unfortunately that means growing away, as well. It’s a natural, albeit painful, process.”

Matt scrubbed his hand over his face. “I wish I were sure that’s all there is to it. Listen, I know it’s an imposition, but would you mind coming over for dinner one night soon and just sort of observing her? Maybe you’ll see something I’m missing. And maybe if she hears another woman in an informal setting talking about this dieting idea, she’ll see she’s going at it all wrong.”

Justine really didn’t think she’d be able to help, but didn’t want to close the door with a refusal. “It isn’t an imposition at all. I’m always here for the kids and their parents. Besides, it’ll save me cooking for myself at least one night.”

“Would tonight be too soon?”

“No. Tonight would be fine.”

He smiled broadly, his relief palpable. “Thanks.”



At six-thirty sharp, Justine pulled up in the Trents’ driveway and took a moment to send a quick prayer heavenward that she wouldn’t misstep.

She was only halfway up the walk when the front door flew open and Cindy and Gina spilled out with Matt trailing behind.

“Don’t knock the poor woman over, girls,” he called after them, as they both barreled into her, shooting greetings and queries a mile a minute. She put her arms around both girls and tried to answer.

“Now, let me see. Yes, I’d love to see your room, Cindy. And, yes, I’d love to meet your friend Binky,” she said, carefully taking a baby blanket that had seen better days. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to smooth it over her hand and turn it quickly into a puppet.

“Hello, Reverend Clemens,” she said, giving Binky a squeaky voice. “Hello to you, too, Binky,” she answered, quickly changing back to her own voice. “Gina’s my person. We’re very good friends,” Binky replied.

Gina giggled and took Binky back, clumsily fashioning the puppet around her own hand. “Will you be my friend, too, and maybe stay overnight? We have bunk beds. We’ll share. Won’t we, Gina?”

“Sure,” Gina continued in the high-pitched voice she’d assigned to Binky, then quickly corrected the tone, and giggled, saying “Sure” again in her own register.

Matt cleared his throat. “I don’t think, Reverend Clemens could—”

“I really can’t,” Justine said at the same moment. They both laughed in shared camaraderie and chagrin.

“Girls, let’s get inside before dinner burns…or our guest runs for her life,” Matt put in, after scooping Gina and Binky up in his arms.

He’d promised to fix ravioli in a red meat sauce that he called gravy, a term he said he’d learned from his Italian grandmother. His Mediterranean background wasn’t a surprise to Justine. His deep brown eyes, dark complexion and nearly black hair told an unmistakable tale of Latin roots.

Justine followed the crowd inside the farmhouse-design home. She found it a pleasant surprise after the way Matt had described the state of his garage. The living room was beautifully arranged. If the rest of his home looked as put together, she would know he’d been exaggerating.

“Matt, this is lovely. You have a real talent for decorating.”

A snort came from behind and to the left. Justine turned and found Leslie leaning in the doorway of a softly lit room next to the staircase. “Like Dad knows more than how to stuff a room full of furniture.”

“Les told me where to put what, what color to paint the walls and what to hang where,” Matt confessed. “Otherwise, nothing would have been hung up and the furniture would be arranged like a doctor’s waiting room. My back still aches thinking about moving everything around till my slave-driver daughter was satisfied.”

Mindful that a lack of self-esteem was reported to be a prime cause of eating disorders, Justine jumped on the chance to bolster Leslie’s sense of self. “You have quite a talent, Leslie. Maybe someday you’ll be an interior designer.”

The teen shrugged shyly. “Mom bought it all. I just said where to put it. And the paint color was common sense. It was no big deal.”

“Oh, you’re wrong. Really. It takes the right eye to know how to arrange things this nicely. And color is so easily off a shade. I know grown women who can’t do this well. Unfortunately, I head the list. Maybe you could lend me that eye of yours someday, if it’s all right with your dad. I hate the way my place is coming together. As your dad said, it looks like a doctor’s waiting room with the furniture lined up along the walls.”

Again Leslie shrugged, but she did stand a little straighter and taller. “Yeah. Sure. I could help.”

“I guess that means I’ll be moving furniture again,” Matt said, giving a deep theatrical sigh.

Leslie rolled her eyes. “Oh, Daddy,” she said with the kind of exaggerated disgust only a thirteen-year-old can do justice to.

Justine laughed. “So, where’s this authentic Italian dinner I was promised?”



Matt tucked the younger girls in bed and settled Les down at the computer in her room to finish the rest of her homework. Then, somewhat reluctantly, he headed back to the family room where Justine waited. He watched her lovely face in silent repose reflected in the window as she stared out at the darkened sky and took a sip of the tea he’d given her before going off to see to the girls.

For a moment Matt found himself unable to move—held in check by Justine’s beauty. But, he reminded himself, he needed something of more substance from this woman—this minister—than her captivating loveliness. With his daughter’s happiness at stake, attraction took a back seat to answers. Answers he needed but feared.

Matt took a deep fortifying breath before plunging ahead into troubled waters. If she said something negative, he didn’t know how he’d handle it. There was nothing more important to him than being the best of fathers. What would he do if he’d failed?

“Everyone’s all settled,” he told her before losing his nerve.

Justine turned and smiled, but there was a hint of nervousness in her expression. “Matt,” she said, almost as if she were surprised to see him there.

“Oh-oh. You spotted a problem, didn’t you? I don’t relish hearing you tell me I’m a failure as a father, but—”

Justine’s eyes widened. “Goodness, Matt, you’re nothing of the sort. I was just going over something troubling in my mind. And it had little to do with your situation. Those girls adore you—even Leslie, as angry as you say she was with you. Her eyes simply shine when she looks at you. I’ve just been wondering if you’d ever considered hiring a part-time housekeeper to do light housework around here and to, perhaps, cook dinner?”

“Actually, I did. Just after Diane passed away. But her mother was afraid a stranger coming in and doing the things Diane used to do would upset the girls. It made sense at the time,” he added, not wanting Justine to think he was rejecting her idea out of hand.

“It may have been a mistake then but I think the two of you have carried this burden long enough. Watching Leslie tonight, I couldn’t help but think she might feel as overwhelmed as you do. Leslie’s still just a child. She tries so very hard to be helpful. Almost too hard.”

“She’s been like that ever since Diane got sick. Mary was around a lot more then, but even so, Les pitched right in to fill in the gaps. Are you saying you think that’s a bad thing?”

“I don’t honestly know. I can’t see that learning to handle responsibility is a bad thing, but maybe too much could be overwhelming. You did say she complained about all your activities together centering around chores. As I said, I have no way of knowing what she’s thinking, so I could be wrong. But I did a lot of filling in for my mother at Leslie’s age and I never stopped eating as Les seems to have.” Justine shrugged as if to admit that kids were baffling.

Les was his problem. He didn’t want to burden the pretty preacher overly much, and she seemed so concerned. “That’s the trouble with parenthood,” he said, walking away to drop into his favorite chair. “Kids don’t come with instructions written on their bottoms.”

Justine chuckled as he’d meant her to and joined him, sitting on the love seat next to his chair. “And all the books written on the subject contradict each other.”

“Exactly. So you think a housekeeper might help?”

“I don’t see how it could hurt.”

Neither did he, but he didn’t know that many people in Safe Harbor yet and he hated relying on Ray any more than he already had. Both Ray and Julie had done so much for him and the girls already. He couldn’t have them looking for a housekeeper, too.

“I actually have someone in mind,” Justine was saying, coming to his rescue. “You might know her. Elizabeth Neal. She was Safe Harbor’s post-mistress until she retired. Elizabeth is alone in the world, so she fills her life with activities like singing in the choir, organizing the town’s Harvest Fest and cooking for the needy. She actually complained last week that the Harvest Festival wasn’t the trouble it used to be. She’s done it so often and has it so well organized that it practically puts itself on. She told me that for the first time in her life she’s sorry she never married. I think she’s lonely and missing having the children and grandchildren her friends enjoy so much.”

“I think I know her. Yeah. The Harvest Fest Lady. Short? White hair? Real grandmotherly looking and always smiling?”

“That’s Elizabeth. I’ll bet she’d even be glad to fill in with the girls on days when you have to work and it doesn’t coincide with school or the After-School Days program. She’s seventy, but I’m sure she’d be able to do this with one hand tied behind her back. The woman wears me out at the church. Just don’t ask her to sew anything. You might not like the results.”

Matt shrugged, not about to let a possible gem slip through his fingers over a few stitches. “That’s what the tailor shop is for. Lead me to this wonder,” he all but begged. This was for the girls, and Elizabeth Neal sounded like the missing piece of a puzzle—a perfect fit.




Chapter Five


By lunchtime the next day, Matt was so psyched he couldn’t wait to tell the girls. He glanced at his watch when he heard Justine’s voice as she made her way down the hall.

“So, how did it go?” she asked as she entered the room.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your office. It’s a lot friendlier than asking her to stop by the station house for a talk after she finished choir practice.”

Justine let out a bark of laughter, then quickly covered her mouth, her soft brown eyes widening in surprise. “Oh. I’m sorry. That just sounded so funny.”

Matt smiled. “Another one of my questionable jokes. You’re the only one who gets them.” He wondered what her reaction would be if he told her he thought she was sweet and kind and almost irresistibly adorable when she deviated from her ministerial persona.

“How did it go with Elizabeth?” she asked again.

“She’s thrilled with the offer and will be glad to do a little light work around the house and take care of the girls, as long as she can fit it in around her normal activities. We’re going to give it a shot and see how it works out. She’s willing to give me between twelve and twenty hours a week. She also knows someone who’d be willing to do the heavy cleaning, like floors and bathrooms. If she charges what Elizabeth says, I can easily budget for both.”

“That’s wonderful. I hope it helps Leslie,” Justine said, and shot him a wide smile that he felt to his toes.

“Even if it doesn’t settle her down at all, it’ll sure help me. Sometimes I just get so tired of having to be on 24/7.” He glanced at his watch. “Say. It’s just about time for lunch. How about I thank you for your help with a quick meal at Harry’s Kitchen?”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking unsure and glancing at her desk.

“You have to eat, anyway, and Harry’s Kitchen is always a nice change of pace. Of course, there’s no telling what he’ll have on the menu.”

She chuckled. “Menu? You mean what he bought this morning at the grocery store to serve today. Eating there is always an experience. Okay. Let’s go.” She plucked her purse off the coat tree in the corner and tossed it over her shoulder.

Matt followed her out the door. “I notice you didn’t say what kind of experience.”

Justine’s laughter floated after her.



Harry’s was crowded when Justine and Matt got there, but Harry waved them to the last booth. It was the “Reserved” booth Harry kept for the use of select customers. Since she wasn’t one of that august group, Justine assumed Matt was.

“You want coffee?” Matt asked when she sat. At her nod, Matt went behind the counter, scooted by Harry who was at the register and filled two mismatched mugs. Customers were usually expected to pour their own coffee and juice, get their own silverware and clear their own tables—all because that’s the way Harry ran the place. There were clever signs tacked all over, telling everyone that’s the only way they were going to get fed quickly. There weren’t menus, either. You asked for it, and if Harry had it, he made it.

The place was a Safe Harbor landmark, as was Harry Connell, a retired merchant marine who didn’t stand on ceremony. The little diner’s walls were paneled halfway up with gray weathered barn wood and painted a cheerful yellow the rest of the way to the ceiling. At some point he must have acquired endless bolts of green vinyl to upholster the booths and counter stools, because if one was damaged, the next day it was repaired with more of the same material. The tables and the counter behind which Harry held court as he cooked were fifties-era gray marble-patterned Formica. Everything behind the counter was stainless steel and gleaming.

“You certainly get royal treatment. Harry’s reserved booth, no less,” she teased, as Matt put down her coffee and dumped a handful of creamers on the table.

He chuckled. “One of the perks of the job. They didn’t bother to list it, but it might have made my decision easier.”

“In that case, I’ll have to eat with you more often.” Justine could have bitten her tongue right off. Her face heated and she began studying the contents of her purse.

“Now, there’s a possibility to make a man look forward to Harry’s every day. It’s a deal.” Matt checked his watch. “I’ll see you here at twelve-thirty tomorrow, then.”

“I was only kidding,” she said, more flustered than ever.

He looked crestfallen. “Oh. And here I thought I’d discovered the cure to afternoon indigestion.”

“First off, Harry only serves sandwiches at lunch, and, appearances to the contrary, he’s a wonderful cook.”

Matt gave a dramatic sigh and leaned back. “Found out. Truth is, it’s a little lonely eating by myself every day. I could eat in my office, but I come in here to stay visible and accessible. People will often stop to lodge a minor complaint that I doubt they’d ever call or stop at the station to talk over. I’ve always thought irritations were more easily solved than altercations.”

“That’s a very wise policy.”

“But it’s still lonely. Lately my conversations either revolve around schoolwork with the girls or who bought the Harbor Quay apartment buildings. Everyone has an opinion on what’s going on with all the renovations at the complex, and they all want me to investigate. One person swears it’s the mafia come to destroy our town.” He grinned appealingly and took a sip of his coffee. “So, are you going to take pity on me?”

What could she say? More importantly, what did she want to say? Matt wanted a friend, he’d said. He’d made no romantic gestures, so she doubted he shared her attraction for him. That made friendship with him safe because she had no intention of ever becoming romantically involved with a man, no matter how trustworthy he seemed. Her father had been a war hero and had still destroyed her mother’s life with his desertion. So what harm could a few lunches and a little companionship cause?





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