The Promise of Home (Love Inspired) (3 page)

Including, it seemed, her closest neighbor.

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

The compassion Jenna heard in Dev’s husky voice was a confusing contrast to the man’s rough exterior.

But she didn’t
need
confusing. Not right now.

“Mom’s been sick a long time,” Logan said, a shadow passing through his eyes.

Tori bobbed her head in agreement. “She sleeps a lot.”

Jenna released a careful breath. It was the first time the children had said anything that hinted at Shelly’s addiction.

A part of her hadn’t wanted to believe it was true. The police hadn’t found any drugs on the premises, so Shelly hadn’t been taken into custody the night of the fire. But according to Grace Eversea, it had been the wake-up call Shelly needed to admit she had a problem and seek treatment.

“We’re asking God to make her better,” Logan said, his expression earnest. “He can do that, can’t he, Aunt Jenna?”

“Yes. He can.”

It was Dev McGuire who broke the sudden silence. Because even if Jenna had been certain of the answer, she was sure the word would have gotten stuck inside the lump forming in her throat.

For the children’s sake, she hoped he was right.

“Is there anything I can do?” Dev was looking at her now, not the children. The genuine concern reflected in his eyes threatening to sever the fragile hold on her self-control.

“I’m fine.” Jenna heard herself repeat the words that had served as an effective shield over the years.

And even though Dev nodded, she had the unsettling feeling that he could see right through it.

Watching him stride away, the dog loping along at his side, Jenna was struck with a sudden, inexplicable urge to ask him to come back. But she’d learned long ago not to ask anyone for help. Not her neighbors. Not her teachers or classmates.

Not even God.

Chapter Three

“I
’m afraid, Aunt Jenna.”

Jenna felt a small hand slip into hers.

I am too,
Jenna wanted to say. She was afraid of the role she’d taken on. Afraid she would somehow do the children more harm than good. But more than that, she was afraid of what would happen to Logan and Tori if Shelly didn’t return within the next few days.

“It’ll be all right.” Jenna said, a reminder to herself as well as her niece. She gave Tori’s hand a reassuring squeeze and worked the key into the rusty lock.

Stepping into the cabin was like stepping into the sauna at the fitness center. The air pressed in from all sides, making it difficult to breathe.

The first thing Jenna saw was the dark blister that marred the hardwood floor. According to the fire chief, Shelly had admitted that she’d fallen asleep on the couch with a cigarette in her hand. One of the embers had dropped between the cushions and started the cushions on fire.

Bile rose in Jenna’s throat as the truth sank in.

She could have lost all three of them.

“I smell smoke.” Logan stopped in the doorway, a worried look on his face.

“That’s because the windows are shut, sweetheart.” Crossing the room, Jenna stripped off the sheet tacked over the window and pushed it open. Immediately, a breeze from the lake began to filter into the room, caressing her face like a cool hand on a feverish brow.

“Better?”

Logan nodded and took a cautious step into the room.

Jenna had a feeling that erasing the acrid scent of smoke from the air would be easier than erasing the memories of the night the children had been removed from their home.

“I’m going to find Princess,” Tori said in a small voice. “She’s my favorite stuffed animal but I was afraid to ask the p’liceman if we could go back and get her. She might be hiding ’cause she got scared.”

“Come on, Tori. I’ll help you look.” Logan stepped in and took his little sister by the hand. They disappeared through a doorway off the living room, giving Jenna a few moments to explore the rest of the cabin alone.

Her heart sank as she surveyed the bleak interior.

From what Jenna could see, Shelly had made no attempt to turn the place into a home. There were no pictures on the walls. No personal touches that told her anything about her sister’s life.

Growing up, Shelly had been the outgoing one, unafraid of taking risks when it came to life—and love.

And look where it got her,
Jenna thought.

The children’s last name was still Gardner, which led her to believe that Vance and her sister had never married. Where was he? Had he eventually grown tired of the responsibility of a family and walked out, the same way Jenna’s father had when she and Shelly were children?

She and Shelly had both felt the sting of his rejection. But while her younger sister had dreamed of finding someone to take care of her, Jenna had learned to take care of herself.

She’d never imagined those lessons would launch a popular magazine column, but that’s exactly what had happened. Jenna didn’t love the attention as much as she loved encouraging other women to become successful and independent.

Something she hadn’t been able to do for her own sister.

Jenna picked a towel off the floor and walked into the tiny kitchen. Unopened letters littered the table and the sink was filled with dirty dishes.

She turned on the faucet and the pipes rattled before spitting out a stream of rusty water.

Jenna closed her eyes.

What had she been thinking?

They were leaving. Now. Familiar surroundings or not. There had to be something to rent in Mirror Lake while they waited for Shelly to return.

This place…the aura of neglect and poverty. It reminded her of things she had spent years trying to forget.

Jenna followed the sound of voices to a bedroom only slightly larger than the walk-in closet in her apartment. The knotty pine walls appeared to be in fairly good condition, but a network of tiny cracks branched out from a central fault line in the plaster ceiling. Swags of cobwebs hung from the light fixture above her head.

Tori sat cross-legged on the frayed carpet, rummaging through a cache of toys stashed in a plastic bin at the foot of one of the bunk beds, while Logan was already unpacking the contents of his backpack.

Both the children looked up and smiled as Jenna entered the room.

Tori cuddled a stuffed dog in her lap. “This is Princess, but I think she looks like Violet, don’t you?”

Jenna didn’t want to think about Violet. Thinking about Violet made her think of Violet’s
owner.

Her cheeks grew warm as she remembered the glint of amusement in Devlin McGuire’s eyes when he’d suggested that she take refuge inside of her car if she ever crossed paths with a real wolf.

Once they found another place to live, the chances of seeing her neighbor again would be slim. As humiliating as their first meeting had been, Jenna was no hurry for there to be another.

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed and her ankle connected with a solid object underneath the frame.

“Ouch.” Wincing, Jenna reached down and pulled out an unopened can of paint.

“That’s ours.” Tori flashed a shy smile. “Mom promised she would paint our room.”

“When she felt better,” Logan added.

Jenna glanced at the receipt from the hardware store taped to the lid. The paint had been purchased over a month ago. Shelly hadn’t been able to find the time—or the energy—to tackle a project that, given the size of the bedroom, wouldn’t have taken more than a few hours to complete.

How many other promises had her sister broken along the way? And at what age would Logan and Tori stop believing them?

“We can paint it and surprise Mommy, can’t we, Aunt Jenna?” Tori’s voice tugged her back to the present. “It’s pink. Me an’ Logan’s favorite color.”

“It’s
your
favorite color,” her brother muttered.

“You said you liked it!” Tori thrust out her chin, daring him to disagree.

“No, I didn’t.” The tips of Logan’s ears turned red. “I said it was okay if
you
liked it.”

Jenna recognized the small sacrifice her nephew had made to keep Tori happy, and something stirred in her heart.

It looked like she was going to have to make one, too.

Because like it or not, for now, the children had told Dev McGuire the truth.

This was home.

* * *

With a flick of his wrist, Dev released the line on his fishing pole. Sunlight sparked off the lure right before it sliced through the gleaming surface of the water and disappeared. He turned the handle on the reel and immediately felt a tug of resistance.

“I think we’ve got one,” he told Violet.

The dog barked her encouragement, tail waving like a victory banner as Dev set the hook and brought in a bluegill the size of his hand. Not bad for the first cast of the day.

As he removed the hook from the fish’s mouth, a furtive movement in the reeds caught his eye. Violet noticed it, too, and immediately set off to investigate.

“If it’s black with a white stripe, leave it alone,” Dev called after her. “Remember what happened last summer. You lost in the first round.”

And Dev hadn’t been able to so much as
look
at a glass of tomato juice since.

Violet ignored him and plunged headfirst into the cattails.

“Hey!”

Her quarry—a barefoot, towheaded boy—scrambled out the other side.

Logan J. Gardner.

So. Just Jenna had actually stuck it out for a night. If Dev were a gambling man, he would have bet she’d packed her Gucci bag and headed to a five-star hotel before a person could say
complimentary facial.

Violet barked at the pint-sized trespasser, who stood rooted in place, shoulders hunched, his cheeks red with embarrassment at having been caught spying on the neighbors.

“Don’t pay any attention to Violet.” Dev cast out his line again, acting as if there were nothing at all unusual about discovering a boy lurking in the reeds at seven o’clock in the morning. “Hide-and-seek happens to be number two on her list of favorite games.”

The tension in Logan’s shoulders eased a little. He reached out and gave the dog’s nose a tentative pat. It was all the encouragement Violet needed. She retrieved a piece of birch wood floating in the shallow water and dropped it at the boy’s feet.

Dev shook his head. “Fetching sticks is number one.”

With a sideways look at Dev, Logan dutifully picked up the stick and threw it. Violet sprang forward, massive paws churning ruts in the sand as she chased it down the shoreline.

Logan shuffled closer, pushing his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. “Did you catch anything yet?”

“Just getting started.” Dev tried another spot further from the lily pads. “Do you like to fish?”

The thin shoulders rolled in a shrug. “My friend Jeremy does. He said he’d teach me this summer, but I don’t know if I’d be any good at it.”

But he wanted to try. Dev could see it in Logan’s eyes.

“There’s one way to find out.” He held out the fishing pole.

Logan eased a look over his shoulder.

A look Dev instantly recognized. He’d been that age once upon a time.

“Does your aunt know you’re over here?”

Logan suddenly became absorbed in watching an emerald green dragonfly fanning its wings near his feet. “She said I could go outside.”

Dev took that as a no. He should have known Jenna wouldn’t approve of her nephew venturing down to the lake alone. Or crossing the property line.

But apparently Jenna didn’t know that one had to be specific when it came to small boys.

A memory somehow managed to slip through a tiny crack in the wall surrounding Dev’s grief.

When he wasn’t much older than Logan, Dev’s father had given him and Jason some leftover wood from one of the construction sites. He hadn’t told them
not
to use it to build a ramp. And he hadn’t told them
not
to ride their bicycles off the end of said ramp.

Dev had tried to point that out on the way to the emergency room while Jason sat in the backseat, cradling a broken arm. Unfortunately, his father hadn’t appreciated his logic.

You’re the oldest, Devlin. I expect more from you.

Those words had become a familiar refrain while Dev was growing up, playing in the background while he was being groomed to take over the family construction business. Dev didn’t mind. He’d embraced the challenges—and the advantages—that came with being the oldest son of Brent McGuire.

In college, Jason had chosen a different path. One that had had Dev shaking his head in confusion at the time. If only he’d had the opportunity to tell his brother that he finally understood.

“You’ve got another one!” Logan’s excited cry jerked Dev from the past with the same urgency as the fish tugging on the end of his line.

Dev set the hook and turned to Logan. “Do you want to bring it in?”

“Sure,” the boy said eagerly, his previous hesitation forgotten as he reached for the pole.

“Reel it in nice and slow…” Dev instructed as he bent down to retrieve the net.

Logan shot him a panicked look. “You should take it now. It’s going to get away.”

“No, it won’t. You’re doing great.”

“Look how big it is!” Logan’s eyes grew wide as Dev knelt down on the dock and scooped up the fish.

“Here you go.” Dev carefully removed the hook from the bluegill’s mouth and dropped it into a bucket of water. “It’s definitely a keeper. I’ll put it on the stringer so you can take it home.”

“Really?”

“You catch it, you keep it.”

Eyes shining, Logan squatted down to admire the fish. “Maybe we can have it for lunch.”

“Maybe.” A smile lifted the corners of Dev’s lips. If only he could see Jenna’s face when she saw the catch of the day.

“Logan?”

Dev glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a familiar voice behind them.

It looked as though his wish was about to come true.

* * *

Jenna’s heart skipped a scheduled beat when Dev McGuire turned around. At some point in the last twelve hours, a startling transformation had occurred.

The heavy growth of stubble that had shadowed the angular jaw was gone, enhancing the clean lines of Dev’s chiseled features. The bright morning sunlight coaxed out hints of bronze in the sable hair that Jenna hadn’t noticed before.

In faded jeans and a dark green T-shirt that accentuated broad shoulders and muscular arms, Dev looked like a man totally at ease in his surroundings.

And way too attractive for her peace of mind.

Jenna stopped, suddenly reluctant to venture any closer.

“Look at the fish I caught, Aunt Jenna!” Logan shouted, jumping up and down on the dock like a pogo stick and pointing to a metal bucket near his feet.