Love Inspired May 2015 #2 (6 page)

“I was saying the little gal just woke from a nap. I changed her diaper and put her in the bouncy seat.”

On the floor beside the couch, Abigail kicked her feet, making the seat jiggle.

“You've bought her more paraphernalia?” Violet asked.

His neck reddened at her question. “Yeah. I figured she was getting sick of looking at my chest.”

Violet's eyes darted to his broad chest and doubted anyone would tire of that scenery.

She dragged her gaze away and nodded toward the baby seat with brightly colored toys suspended above it. “Yes, visual stimulation is nice.”

“Thanks again for coming. In case you need me...” He offered his cell phone. “Can we switch numbers?”

“Oh, sure.” She handed over hers and added her phone number to his contacts. Then they switched back.

It felt like such a date-type thing to do, so personal, that it made her heart flutter in her chest.

“Listen,” he said. “I have another favor to ask already.”

“Sure.”

“Don't say that so quickly. This is a biggie.” He ran a hand through his unruly brown hair. “I checked out Remy's address from the hospital records. It's a place called Peace House in Atlanta. From their website, it appears to be a domestic violence shelter.”

Violet gasped. “Jake, no.”

“Yeah, that was my reaction.” He winced, his eyes sad. “The phone is disconnected. I emailed them through the website but got no answer. I'd like to go to the address, in Atlanta, to investigate.”

“I think that's a good idea.”

“I wanted to impose again and ask if you can either babysit Abigail or...” He looked into her eyes. “Or go with me to help with the baby.”

“What if the father's still alive and Remy has been trying to protect Abigail?”

“That occurred to me, too,” he said.

The thought of Abigail being in danger from an abusive father made Violet's stomach drop.

If Jake somehow found Remy, would he turn the baby over to her mother? Violet wanted to be there to assess the situation. “Most domestic violence shelters are in undisclosed locations. But I think you do need to check the address she left you. I'd like to go with you...in case...well, in case Abigail needs me.” Her face burned because she wasn't just worried about the baby.

“What day's good for you?”

She lifted her chin and put on her business face. “How about I try to clear my schedule for Friday?”

He let out a deep breath as if he'd been holding it. Yet the crease between his brows didn't ease. “All right. I'll arrange it.”

Staring into each other's eyes, neither seemed to know what to say.

Days ago, she would have thought of him as her worst enemy. And he probably felt the same.

Strange how concern for a tiny baby could bring two people together.

Jake suddenly jerked his gaze away and clapped his hands together. “Well, I've got to go. Diapers are by the changing table in the first bedroom on the left. And there are more in the diaper bag.”

“That's fine. Would you mind if I take Abigail to the grocery store? I figured I could take care of some of my errands.”

“Don't mind at all if it'll help you. I just hope she'll cooperate.”

The baby gave a little peep of irritation as if ready to fuss.

“I guess that's my cue to leave,” Jake said with a laugh. “There's an extra house key in the diaper bag. I'll put her car seat base in your car on the way out.”

As soon as Jake left, the infant let out an irritated cry. Violet picked her up, and she settled immediately with the contact.

She packed up the diaper bag and then put Abigail in the carrier. Once she had the safety seat clicked in place, they drove to the store.

It felt like such a normal motherly thing to do—parking and carrying the baby carrier inside.

Violet attached the seat to the grocery cart. Pulling out her short shopping list, she headed to the produce aisle.

She stopped to look at bell peppers. “Hmm, what do you think, sweet girl? Should I buy red or yellow?”

Abigail gazed at her with big blue eyes and blew little spit bubbles. As Violet kissed a tiny hand, her heart swelled.

Another customer reached for a green pepper. “What a precious baby. And she's being so good!”

“Yes, she's a sweet one.”

Abigail's tiny hand tightened around Violet's finger, and invisible fingers seemed to wrap around her heart as well, plucking at the damaged heartstrings, heartstrings ripped apart when her child had been taken away.

With a brush of Abigail's soft hair, Violet tried to rebuild the fortress that shielded her from longing for things of the past. But, for just a moment, Violet had glimpsed what it would have been like to raise a child she'd brought into the world, if circumstances had been different, if her parents had worried less about what the community thought and more about what was best for their daughter and grandchild.

“Hi, Violet.”

She glanced behind her and found Chloe O'Malley, who must've taken a break from her clothing boutique to do some shopping.

“Oh, hi, Chloe.”

“Whose baby?”

“Jake West's...well, his cousin's baby.”

“So Remy had a baby?”

“Yes, this is Abigail. And she's staying with Jake for a while.”

Chloe's eyes widened. “Wow. I bet that's entertaining.”

Violet couldn't stop the laugh that burst out. “He was pretty clueless at first. But with a little tutoring, he's doing a good job.”

“Tutoring...by you?” Chloe's silvery-blue eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Yes. He brought her to me at the office to examine.”

“I seeee.” Her tone—filled with innuendo—made Violet's face heat.

Maybe the woman did see a little too much. “Don't look at me like that. It's not what you think.”

“Isn't it? I think I see potential in this situation. Dating potential.”

The laughter in Chloe's eyes wrung an unwilling smile from Violet. She shook her head and bit her lip.

The fact that she was at the grocery store with Jake's charge during the middle of a workday probably did suggest more than just a favor. “Don't look so thrilled about it. Jake's just stuck without a babysitter, and I offered to fill in for a couple of hours this afternoon.”

“Uh-huh.” She grinned. “Nice job catching the most eligible bachelor in town. You need to use the lake house trip you won at the Food4Kids auction and invite him along. Pick a date and we'll arrange it.”

Before Violet could further correct the misperception, Chloe darted off.

Violet wanted to growl, to chase Chloe down and tell her to drop the silly notion that there was anything more going on than babysitting.

But she had no recourse. And still had groceries to buy. So she pushed aside the teasing and marched ahead, checking each item off the list.

Abigail cooperated beautifully until Violet was in the last aisle picking up milk. The good little shopper started to kick her feet and fuss.

“I know. You've been such a good girl. Just give me one more minute.” She zipped the cart toward the checkout line.

She groaned when she found customers backed up two or three deep at every register. Who knew Wednesday afternoon could be so crowded? Was it double coupon day?

Violet lifted Abigail out of the seat and held her as they waited. When she finally reached the cash register, she managed to pay with her one free hand and then asked for help out with her purchases.

A teenaged boy pushed the cart to her car. As he grabbed two of the plastic bags, she reached in the cart to help.

“Here, let me do that,” said Jake from behind her, sending her heart racing and chill-bumps rising along the little hairs at the back of her neck.

“Oh. Thanks.”

How could the deep voice of the man cause such a strong reaction? Could be the close proximity. Or the heat of his arm as he took the bag out of her hand and placed it in the trunk.

Jake thanked the boy and sent him back inside. Then he reached around her to finish transferring the groceries to the car.

She stepped aside to give him room, trying to gather her wits. She was not some giggly, naive girl with a crush on a guy. She was a grown woman running a business. She'd been on her own and supported herself for years.

Sure, it was nice to have a man show up and offer to do something helpful. But that was no reason for her stupid, irritating reaction.

He loaded the last bag with the eggs and then slammed the trunk closed. When he straightened, he looked into her eyes, a gentle smile on his face.

She slowly drew in a deep breath.

He reached toward her and...brushed a finger across Abigail's cheek. “Hey there, sweet thing.”

“I didn't expect to see you here,” Violet said, trying not to sound as rattled as she felt by his nearness.

“Yeah.” He looked adoringly at his baby cousin. “I did what I most needed to do at work. But then I wanted to get back to my girl and remembered you saying you needed to go to the grocery store.”

Violet felt as if the walls of her chest were crushing her lungs. Tears stung her nose as she watched how tenderly he treated Abigail. At how devoted he was to her already.

“She was a real trouper,” she said through a tight throat. “Didn't make a peep until time to go through checkout.”

He reached for the baby. “I'm glad.”

He smelled the same as earlier but enhanced with the faint aroma of sawdust and sunshine. She wanted to lean in, plaster herself against him to take in more of the appealing scent. To lean into strong arms that could be both gentle and devoted.

No. She couldn't allow that type of fantasy to take hold. She quickly put space between them.

“We can go ahead and transfer Abigail's stuff,” he said. “That way you can go straight home to put your food away.”

Her shoulders drooped, but she ratcheted them up. “Oh, okay. I'll do that since your hands are full.”

Once she put the car seat and diaper bag in his truck, she brushed a hand across Abigail's soft head. “Be good for Jake, sweetie.”

Time for the pretend motherhood to end. Unfortunately, she'd toyed with the idea too much that day. Had enjoyed the shopping trip with Abigail too much. Had enjoyed meeting up with Jake too much, as well.

Across the parking lot, a waving hand drew Violet's attention. It was Chloe O'Malley again. When Violet returned the wave, Chloe gave a thumbs-up.

Too bad reality would disappoint her new friend.

Fearing Jake would read the disappointment on her face, she drew back her shoulders and looked directly into his gorgeous blue eyes. “Expect me around ten o'clock on Friday. I may need to see a few sick patients early that morning, but I should be free by ten.”

“That's perfect. Thanks for today.”

The man wore grateful well. And he wore the hunky dad look well, too.

Why had no one snatched him up yet?

She quickly escaped inside her car—she who'd always faced life head-on. And now, in the space of a week, she'd run from this man—or rather, her attraction to him—two or three times.

Could she help him without getting sucked in? Because there suddenly seemed to be a very fine line between assistance and attachment.

Chapter Five

W
ith the help of the map app on his cell phone and Violet's knowledge of the area, Jake steered his truck through downtown Atlanta traffic.

Abigail slept peacefully in the backseat as Violet sat quietly beside him. She wore perfectly pressed khaki slacks and a summery silk blouse in a soft yellow color that made her look feminine. It reminded him of one of Aunt Edith's expressions—a breath of fresh air.

“Let's get off at the next exit,” Violet said. “We'll miss some traffic on The Connector.”

Following her directions, he drove down the exit ramp. High-rise office buildings swallowed them as they wove their way along smaller roads, deeper into the city.

“I appreciate you showing me the back way,” he said. “We seem to have avoided some of the worst bottlenecks and one-way streets.”

“When I was a resident, I moonlighted at a couple of Atlanta hospitals.” Brushing back the flippy edges of her hair, she smiled. “I learned all the shortcuts.”

“Must've been tough working all those hours.” He glanced over at her. “I imagine you were a serious student.”

Chuckling, she shook her head. “Yeah, you can say that. Definitely determined.”

“I'm sure your parents are proud.”

When she didn't immediately answer, he looked over.

“Oh, slow down,” she said, pointing at the next street sign. “We need to turn there.”

She still didn't acknowledge his comment. Could she be avoiding the topic of her parents?

Interesting.

Jake took a right and then went left one block later. At their destination, he parked in a small pay lot. The area had a few boarded-up buildings but otherwise looked like a small community. Across the street he spotted a pawnshop and dry cleaners. On their side of the street were a tiny grocery store, a barbershop and a deli. Power poles were papered with layer upon layer of faded concert and event posters.

“I don't think we're going to find a shelter for women and children around here,” Violet said as she climbed out of the truck.

Jake opened the back door and removed Abigail's carrier seat. “Doesn't look residential at all, does it?”

They walked along the sidewalk.

“Oh, look. Here's a building number.” Violet indicated a peeling painted address over the doorway of the deli. “Nine sixty-two.”

“Then we need to look on the other side of the street.” He touched her elbow as they waited for two cars to pass before crossing. Full of energy, she searched for their address a step ahead of him, her flowery scent drifting his way.

“There it is.”

Sure enough, the place had a worn sign on the door stating they'd found Peace House. The interior looked dark. He pulled the door handle, but it was locked.

Frustrated, he groaned. “What a waste.”

“No, it was worth the trip.” She held her hands to the glass to look inside. “There's still furniture here. Maybe it's not closed permanently.”

“With the phone disconnected?” Shaking his head, he let out a sigh. “I can't believe Remy was in danger, escaped somewhere like this and didn't tell anyone in our family.”

The idea of her being mistreated by a man who was supposed to love her made him want to punch a fist through the glass.

With her eyes still between cupped hands, Violet moved from window to window, surveying the interior. “I don't think she ever stayed here. It's only a small office.”

“Regardless, it's a dead end.”

“Don't give up so quickly.” She stepped off the curb and glanced up and down the street. “Come on. Let's go do some investigative work.”

A vise lifted from his chest, and he found himself breathing deeper. It was nice to have someone on his side. He hefted Abigail's carrier a little higher. “Lead on.”

Like a hound with its nose in the air, Violet eyed each of the surrounding shops, checking out the signs, peeking inside. The thought of her possibly stopping someone walking down the street to ask questions made him smile.

He was seeing a new side of Violet Crenshaw. Probably the determined side she mentioned earlier.

“Come on,” she said. “I think this is a good place to start.”

They waited for an elderly couple to pass, then opened the door and entered the mini-market. The inside was dimly lit and somewhat grungy. A lone employee was leaned over, restocking a shelf with potato chips.

“Excuse me,” Violet said, her sweet voice like sunshine in the dim recesses of the crowded aisles.

The man continued to slap small bags of chips into a display rack. “What?” he grumbled.

“Do you know if Peace House is still in business?” she asked.

“Ain't got no clue.”

“Have women been living there?”

He smashed a fist through the packing tape of an empty box and flattened it, then zipped open another package with a box cutter. “No clue.”

“So you haven't seen staff or guests coming or going lately?”

Bent over the box, not bothering to look Violet in the eye, he sighed as if extremely put out. “Does it look like we've got a Hilton around here?”

Jake clenched his fist, fighting the urge to knock the man six blocks over to that particular hotel. “Hey, man. You don't have to be rude.”

“And if you're not a paying customer, I'd say it's time to move along.”

Jake pulled Abigail protectively closer as he nodded Violet toward the door. “Come on.”

They stepped out into the sunlight, and Abigail cringed at the brightness. He pulled open the built-in fabric canopy on her carrier to shade her face.

“Well, so much for my keen eye,” Violet said.

He couldn't help but grin. “Who could've guessed Mr. Personality would work there?”

A laugh burst out of her. “I wish you could have seen your jaw twitching where you must've been grinding your teeth.”

“Believe me, I was sorely tempted to say something that's not very nice. He didn't have to be so sarcastic with you.”

“Well, I appreciate you standing up for me.”

Her smile was so lovely, he wanted to reach out and trace it with his fingers.

She pulled her gaze away, glanced at the ground, then looked back up to the storefronts. “Let's go in the pawnshop.”

The folks there ended up being nice but had no idea what was going on at Peace House. Next they tried the dry cleaners.

When they exited, Violet wore a perky expression. “Well, that helped some.”

“You're such an optimist,” Jake said with a chuckle. “The pawnshop clerk said she'd seen a worker at Peace House last week. I don't know how you find that helpful.”

She shrugged. “It's better than a poke in the eye.”

“Or a man grunting ‘No clue'?”

“Yeah. See? We should be thankful for every scrap of info.”

He shook his head, yet he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face and wouldn't go away as he followed her across the street.

“Hey, look. There's a beauty shop,” she said. “That could be a gold mine.”

As they approached, Abigail started to cry.

“She's got to be hungry,” he said.

“Here, I'll feed her while you talk to the ladies inside.”

Holding Abigail in the crook of her left arm, Violet popped a bottle in the baby's mouth. Abigail greedily slurped it down.

Jake held the door for Violet, and they stepped inside. The smell of chemicals nearly bowled him over and made his nose crinkle.

Violet stifled a laugh. “Not your usual hangout, huh?”

“Hardly.”

Two stylists stood at stations with customers. One snipped at the ends of a young woman's long dark hair. The stylist looked like something out of the fifties, wearing a poufy hairstyle and an old-fashioned waitress outfit.

The other stylist squirted something liquid on the white hair of an older woman, hair that was wrapped around colorful curler things. He suspected the solution was the source of the chemical smell.

“Hi, folks. How can I help you?” asked the one in the pink waitress uniform.

Jake nodded at them. “Good morning, ladies. Do y'all know if Peace House is still in business?”

The hands of the hairdresser stilled. Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking?”

“I believe my cousin lives there. I'm trying to locate her.”

The young woman in the seat, whose back was to him, glared at him in the mirror.

He could understand their concerns.

Violet stepped closer with a pleasant, friendly expression. “We read online that it's a shelter for victims of domestic violence. I assure you, Jake here is not a husband or boyfriend of a resident. He just wants to help his cousin.”

Fifties Woman seemed to relax a bit. “The shelter itself is in a secret location. The office is only open a couple of days a week. But they won't give you any information. You'll have to email the address on the website. If your cousin is a resident, they'll pass along your message to her.”

“And if she's no longer there?” he asked.

“I doubt they'll give any forwarding information.”

Secret location. Limited access. But they were dealing with an organization designed to protect. He'd have to be patient and let the system work. A system that might be protecting his own family.

Anxiety clenched at his gut. Was Remy safe? “Thanks for your help. I've already emailed them. I guess I'll have to wait and pray I find Remy.”

Something flared in the stylist's eyes. Did she know Remy? He pulled out a business card and handed it to her. “I'd appreciate it if you'd call me if you run into my cousin. I want to help her.”

The woman glanced at Abigail as she reached out with long, hot-pink fingernails and took the card. “Will do.” She read Jake's information, then tucked it in a pocket of her little white apron.

“Thanks for your help,” Violet said.

“Yeah, we appreciate it.” Jake hoisted the diaper bag and then picked up the carrier.

Lifting a section of hair, the stylist gave two brisk snips. “The three of you make a beautiful family.”

His heart gave a jolt. He wasn't going to go into details of his situation with strangers. It could put Abigail at risk. “Uh, thanks.” His gaze snapped to Violet, who glanced away, her cheeks flushed.

Fifties Woman and the other stylist shared a look.

They knew something.

“Well, I'll give you a call if I find out anything about your cousin. Remy...?”

“Remy West.” He nodded as he held the door for Violet. “Thanks again.” Following her out, he grabbed the salon's business card off the checkout counter.

Dotty's Dippity-Do

Dotty Simmons, Owner

As soon as the door closed behind them, Violet spun around to face him. “They know something.”

“I agree. We have to hope they'll decide I'm safe and will contact me. Or they'll at least contact Remy if they know where she is.”

“Yeah. I'm afraid that's as close as we're going to get for now.”

Abigail pushed out the bottle. Violet burped her and then placed her in the carrier.

“Hey,” he said. “Sorry about the lie of omission in there. About us being a family...”

“Oh, no big deal.” As she leaned over the baby and adjusted the seat straps the back of her neck flushed.

For some odd reason, he wanted to smooth a hand over the blush, cooling the heat. Instead, he pushed the diaper bag farther up his shoulder, then ushered Violet toward the car.

Today might feel like a dead end. But as Violet said, it was better than a poke in the eye.

When they got to the truck, he snapped the car seat in place. He started the engine, cranked up the air conditioner, but then turned toward Violet.

“So, trying to be optimistic like you,” he said with a smile, “I'd say we had a bit of success today.”

His joking made her chuckle. “I'm glad to know I can be of service.”

“We now know the office is open a couple of days a week, and, like you suspected, the shelter is in a hidden location.”

“And that eventually someone should answer your email,” she added.

“Good point.”

Her pretty greenish eyes sparkled with humor. “Of course, you may have to work on being patient waiting on that email. Which could prove difficult.”

The fact she was lightening up, teasing him, sent a shot of awareness through him. Awareness at how beautiful she was. How sweet. And helpful.

And beautiful. Definitely beautiful.

“I beg to differ.” He forced a serious expression. “I'm a very patient man.”

She raised her brows. “Really? Who slapped a baby car seat in his truck all willy-nilly before trying to look online to find out how to do it?”

“Hey, now. Abigail was screeching. And I hate to inform you, but it wasn't impatience that led me to
slap
it in the truck. It was sheer panic.”

A short laugh slipped out before she bit her lip, holding it in, and then looked away.

Why couldn't she just let loose? It seemed every time they enjoyed each other's company for a moment, she backed away.

He'd love to get to know her better. “How about lunch?”

“I'm starving. And I did take the whole day off, so there's no hurry to get back.”

“Good.” A cozy warmth seeped inside him. The same feeling he used to get on the rare occasions he, Remy and his aunt and uncle spent an evening at home together, everyone getting along nicely. Times that made him feel secure...at least until Remy acted out again, and Paul and Edith held him up as an example of a good kid. Making Remy resent him more. Making him fear he couldn't always live up to his aunt's and uncle's expectations.

As always, that fleeting glow of security reminded him how pathetic he was to long for those close relationships. Having a perfect family was an unattainable ideal anyway.