Love Inspired May 2015 #2 (8 page)

Once the coffee and water were in the chamber, he jammed the pot in place and hit the button. “I'm not going to drop the search. I'm going to keep the connection open through the shelter director.” He turned and stared into her pretty eyes.

Greenish-brown eyes that looked so innocent and caring didn't necessarily mean she knew best in Abigail's situation.

Regret filled those same eyes. “Fine, continue the search. But I think it may be time for you to contact your lawyer. If nothing else, maybe he or she could help locate Remy.”

Violet closed the laptop. She sat perched on the edge of her chair as if expecting him to send her away.

Why, when she looked so vulnerable, did it eat at him? Make him feel like a big, jerky clod?

With an irritated huff, he went to get two cups of coffee out of the machine before it was done brewing. Dripping coffee sizzled on the warmer as he quickly poured them.

“Well, you've stated your opinion. But I'm willing to wait a little longer to give Remy a chance. If she's off the drugs, I know she'll come back.”

He sure hoped he was making the right decision and wasn't just acting out of fear of having a baby thrust into his life.

“I'm sorry, Jake. I know this is a complicated family matter for you and your cousin. I'm just trying to focus on Abigail's welfare.”

“So am I. So, ultimately, we're on the same side.”

“You're doing a good job,” she said.

“Only because you've shown me everything I know about caring for a baby.” He gave her a grateful smile, glad they'd both shared their opinions without anyone storming out. Simone, the last woman he'd dated, had loved drama. And of course, he'd grown up with Remy's rebellious behavior, which kept the household in an uproar most of the time.

He placed a mug in front of her. “I'm sorry I don't have cream. How about sugar?”

“Black will be fine.” She held the mug with two hands as if warming them. Then she took a sip. Her eyes darted to his over the rim and his gaze locked with hers. Once again, he felt an odd sense of intimacy. This time over having morning coffee together.

He must be sleep deprived.

After a few more drinks of the brew, she stood. “I'm sorry to rush off. I have a patient to check on at the hospital this morning. Will you work today?”

“Working from home again. Zeb's keeping me updated. I plan to make an announcement at church tomorrow asking for help with child care.”

She went to the sink, rinsed her mug and placed it in the dishwasher. “I hope someone comes forward. In the meantime, I could come this afternoon if you want a few hours to go to the job site.”

“You'd do that again?”

“Sure. I close at noon on Saturday.”

“Then yes, I'd appreciate that. As payment, I'll bring carryout home with me and feed you dinner.”

With arms crossed in front of her, she clutched her elbows, looking tense, nervous. “How about I make dinner? I love to cook and rarely take the time for just myself.”

Surprised, he eyed her. “After babysitting all afternoon, why would you do that for me?”

“Because...I love to cook?” She laughed, and some of the earlier tension left the room.

He sure loved to hear her laugh. He leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest and decided to tease her a little. “Doc, why spend a Saturday evening with me and a baby when you could invite some nice man over and cook for him, like a real date?”

“Well, now, that would be rude of me since I already invited you. Of course, if you decline...”

He barked a laugh. “No, I'm not declining. A good home-cooked meal sounds amazing. I admit, I'm seriously wondering your angle.”

“Quit trying to figure me out.” Her smooth cheeks turned pink. “If I offer, and you want to accept, then accept. Don't get caught up in motivations.”

The problem was, they both seemed to have complicated motivations. And it was going to drive him up the wall trying to figure out hers. He needed to stick with the facts.

The fact was, she was willing to help him with Abigail...for now.

“I've been thinking,” he said. “I might send Remy some photos of Abigail, hoping it'll make her want to come home.”

Pain sliced across Violet's expression. Was she sympathizing with Remy?

“I guess it couldn't hurt to try,” Violet said. “But Remy told you a break in contact would be easier on her.”

“I'm not trying to make it easy on Remy. I'm trying to reunite Abigail with her mother.”

And he wouldn't quit trying to do that, even if he was finding he enjoyed Abigail more each day.

Even if giving up the baby would end time together with Violet.

Chapter Six

T
ired of jogging clothes and work clothes, and determined to look a bit more feminine, Violet loaded Abigail into the car as soon as Jake left for work that afternoon. She headed to Chloe's Closet.

“Come on, Abigail,” she said as they entered the store with a jingle of bells. “Come see the fun clothes and accessories that lie in your future.”

“I'll be with you in a minute,” Chloe O'Malley called from somewhere in the back of the shop.

Fall clothes filled the display at the front, the first items for the change of season, which was still a couple of months away.

One wall was lined with candles and cute, creative items for the home. Scattered about were racks of costume jewelry and handbags.

Back in her teens, Violet had shopped at boutiques like this, where they stocked only one or two items in each size. Her mother had bought her fine clothes...anything Violet wanted.

Now, with her business building so slowly in addition to student loans, she had a limited budget. Time to search the sale rack.

“Oh, hi, Violet. What can I help you with today?”

She lifted the carrier so Chloe could see the baby. “I'm sitting again but thought I'd drop by and see if Abigail will cooperate while I try on a few things.”

“Oh, I'll be delighted to help. What are you looking for?”

“Something casual, comfortable. But nicer than my work clothes.” Violet looked down at her black slacks and utilitarian white blouse. “A little color might be nice.”

“Do you have a date?” Chloe's silvery-blue eyes twinkled. “Maybe an outing with the baby and then a date with the hunky guardian?”

Violet's face blasted like a raging fever. “I'm simply cooking dinner for him. Not a date at all. Just neighbors getting together.”

Except if she were totally honest, she'd have to admit she hoped for more.

“I see.” Chloe stifled a laugh as she sorted through the rack and pulled out a slinky red dress.

“No way. That screams that I'm trying too hard.”

“It's cotton knit, so it's very comfortable and casual.”

Not casual in Violet's book. “My type of comfortable is running shorts and a T-shirt. That dress shouts, ‘Look at me!'”

“What's wrong with making a man notice?”

She gave Chloe a look that said
move on
.

“Okay.” Chloe flipped through several more hangers. Then she pulled out another dress. It was long and had spaghetti straps.

“Nope. How about pants and a knit top?”

With a sigh, Chloe went around to the other side of the rack. “Chicken.”

Yeah. She was. But she wasn't trying to attract Jake. She just wanted to look nice.

Nice enough to make him take notice?

“You know, never mind. I don't know what I was thinking.” She lugged the carrier toward the exit. “I'm sorry for wasting your time.”

“No, don't leave,” Chloe called, rushing to block her path. “I'm sorry. I'm a little too into playing matchmaker since my sister, Darcy, had me do a makeover for her.”

“I heard she got engaged. So I guess the makeover did the trick.”

Chloe let out a peal of laughter. “Actually, the date that night was with another man. But Mr. Right won out.”

While Violet tried to figure out that comment, Chloe took the baby seat from her. “Come on. I'll watch Abigail while you pick something
you
like.”

Trying to relax and enjoy the search, Violet took her time selecting several items and then tried them on. After Chloe weighed in with her opinion, Violet settled on a long, straight blue knit skirt and a casual top with a green, blue and white geometric pattern. As she was checking out, she spotted a cute pair of sandals on the clearance rack.

“Perfect,” Chloe said. “You'll look great and feel great in that outfit.”

“I hope so.” A nervous tangle of butterflies sent her stomach on a nosedive as she thought of spending the evening with Jake over a nice, quiet dinner. But what if he didn't even notice her new outfit?

What if he did?

Snapping her attention back to Chloe, Violet punched in the PIN for her debit card. “I appreciate your help. Now...on to the grocery store.”

Chloe handed a shopping bag across the counter, the new clothes nicely wrapped in tissue paper. “I have a feeling you and Jake will have a wonderful evening. I'll be praying that you do.”

This woman she barely knew would be praying for her? Touched, Violet felt grateful for her new friendships here in Appleton. Maybe she was making a place for herself in town after all.

Barely able to thank Chloe because of the lump in her throat, Violet said goodbye and left the shop.

Had God brought her here and blessed her with this community? Would He do that despite the fact she'd shut Him out for more than a decade?

She couldn't imagine that God cared that much. Yet some part of her deep inside, the little-girl part that had loved Sunday school and vacation Bible school and singing “Jesus Loves Me” at the top of her lungs, hoped so. That teenaged mother who felt crushed and empty when she had to leave her son behind in Alabama wanted to believe God could still love her.

Grief nearly overwhelmed Violet as she purchased the ingredients for dinner. The only thing that helped her pull herself together was Abigail's need for attention.

She had a job to do. She could focus on that.

But when she pulled up in front of Jake's beautiful bungalow and realized she felt instantly at home, her eyes stung with tears. The knot re-formed in her throat. Ever since the hairstylist had complimented them on their family of three, she'd had to battle picturing them that way. Battle the thrill the comment gave her.

Abigail whimpered.

Time to forget her silly emotions and take care of the baby. Pushing away thoughts of families and excitement over having dinner with Jake, she carried the groceries and Abigail inside.

She quickly put away the food and then prepared a bottle. The tiny girl happily drank her formula. Heavy-lidded eyes looked at Violet as the eating slowed.

“Shopping can wear a girl out,” she whispered. Pressing her cheek to the baby's soft head, she inhaled. She hadn't been allowed to hold her baby boy. When she'd held other babies through the years, she'd often tried to imagine his scent. Longing tugged at her insides, and she had to tamp it down. Tamp it back into the safe prison it had been in for years.

Once Abigail finished eating, Violet strapped on the soft baby carrier and slipped her inside, against her chest. She walked over to her own house, grabbed a few food staples and cooking utensils, loaded them in a large tote, then carried them back to Jake's.

Violet needed to start dinner. She lifted Abigail, now wide-awake, out of the carrier and put her in the bouncy seat.

“Time to cook for your dad—I mean cousin.” She shook her head, irritated at the direction her traitorous thoughts kept going.

Stepping out of her fantasy world, she focused on cooking the best rosemary chicken she'd ever made. The most buttery roasted vegetables. The creamiest mashed potatoes.

As she prepared the food, she talked to Abigail and bounced the seat to keep her entertained. While the chicken baked, Violet bathed the baby. Then she fed her again and put her down in the baby bed.

Jake texted to say he was on the way home, so she hurriedly cleaned up and changed into her new clothes. She was setting the table when she heard the front door creak open.

“I'm home,” Jake called, his deep voice making her heart skip a beat. Anticipation sent her stomach flying as if she'd reached the highest point of a Ferris wheel.

Lord, help me.

The automatic plea startled her. Though it had been years, the cry for divine help had come naturally. Maybe the fact Chloe was praying had affected her.

Or maybe her growing feelings for Jake and Abigail left her desperate for God to protect her heart.

Lord, I know it's been ages. But I need Your help, and quickly. I have so much baggage. I have no business feeling like this about Jake. He doesn't know my past, and for some reason, I'm scared to tell him.

And while You're listening—assuming You are—Jake and Remy need Your help, too. Please help them find the best solution for Abigail.

“Man, something sure smells good.” Jake stepped into the kitchen. Once again, he brought in the smell of sawdust and sunshine, a smell she would forever associate with him.

He whistled.

Her heart stilled. “I'm glad you appreciate a good home-cooked meal.”

His eyes took her in from head to toe and back. “That's not all I appreciate. I was talking about you, Violet. You look beautiful.”

The way he said her name with his deep, masculine voice left her breathless as she looked into his eyes. “Thank you.”

“New outfit?”

“Yes, Abigail and I went shopping.”

He chuckled. “Well, the kid's got good taste. She helped you pick a winner.” His eyes shone with admiration.

Exactly the look she'd secretly hoped to see on his face.

She turned toward the stove. “Abigail's asleep, and dinner's ready.”

“Great. I'll run back to check on her and wash up.”

While he was gone, she busied herself putting food on the table. When she heard his footsteps returning, she pressed her hands against her stomach, trying to calm her nerves.

“She's sleeping soundly,” he said when he returned. “How'd my girl do for you?”

My girl.
The tender endearment shot straight to her heart because she could so see him as a father...as a husband.

Lord, please help...
“Abigail's been great. She hung out in the bouncy seat as I cooked.”

“Food looks amazing.”

“Have a seat.”

He held out a chair for her, which was very gentlemanly—and maybe date-like?—and made her feel special.

He went around to the other side of the table. This time she knew to wait for the blessing.

After he prayed, he put his napkin in his lap. “Thanks for all this.”

He smiled, looking into her eyes, and the connection soothed some of her nervousness and fear. He was a good man who could be her friend. As long as she didn't get caught up in old hopes and dreams.

“Everything is delicious,” he said. “My aunt used to make a similar chicken dish, but I haven't had it in ages.”

“I'm glad you like it. I've wondered...were you and Remy close as children?”

“We've had a love–hate relationship.”

“How's that?”

He stirred the sauce spilling off the chicken with his fork, as if deep in thought. After a moment, he looked up. “She resented me intruding into her world. An only child suddenly sharing her parents.”

“I imagine you were in a bad place, too.”

“Yeah. Shocked and grieving the loss of my parents. Uprooted from my home and friends. Paul and Edith were kind to take me in. They tried to treat me like one of their own.”

“But Remy didn't like that.”

He shook his head. “I was six, and she wasn't quite eight.”

“Oh, wow. I'd assumed she's younger than you.”

“Paul and Edith were older when she was born, so they'd spoiled her. I came in and ruined that. When she started complaining and acting out, I was afraid they'd send me away.”

“You poor thing. Did you two ever get along?”

“By the time we were in middle and high school, my aunt and uncle worked long hours. Remy rebelled as a way to lash out at them. And me.”

She passed him the bowl of potatoes for a second helping. “So the two of you were on your own a lot?”

He grimaced. “Yeah. Now, enough about me. What about you? Any siblings?”

“Nope. I'm an only child.”

“Were you close to your parents before the falling out?”

She did not want to get into her past. She already knew how one question could lead to another. “Not really. Did you and Remy ever grow close?”

“Nice job dodging talking about yourself.”

“I want you to finish the story of you and Remy.”

He heaved a sigh. “I tried to keep her out of trouble. We even had moments of closeness as we bonded over being alone for dinner.” With an ironic laugh, he shook his head. “I'd make her favorite foods, hoping she'd stay home instead of going out to parties.”

“Sounds like you cared about her.”

“Yeah. Feeding her was a peace offering.”

Violet's chest tightened, feeling pain for this boy who'd already lost so much. She couldn't resist touching him, putting her hand over his. “You didn't owe her a peace offering, you know. You were just a hurting kid, too.”

He glanced up from his plate, his expression pure agony. “Still, that's how she felt. She blamed me for being ‘the good child' trying to take her parents' affection, when I was actually being good so they didn't ship me back into foster care.”

Swallowing against tears for a young Jake, she waited for him to finish.

“Remy ended up addicted to drugs and ran away. I failed her.”

“No, you didn't. Any decision to use drugs was hers.”

He leaned forward, determination sparking in his eyes. “I need to keep my promise to Remy. I won't let Abigail down.”

Ever since high school, when Hank had deserted her and her parents had let
her
down, Violet had had trust issues. But at the moment, she wanted to believe Jake was someone she could trust. Someone she could maybe let herself care about.

So far, he'd proven himself dependable with Abigail. He needed to be assured of that.

Feeling bad for dredging up hurtful memories, she also wanted to lighten the moment. “Jake, you're doing a fantastic job with Abigail. For a rookie.”

When he jerked his gaze to hers, she smiled to let him know she was teasing.