And the Greatest of These Is Love: A Contemporary Christian Romance Novel (10 page)

Concern slithered over her soft face as she headed out into the streets. “Just hang in there. We’ll be there as quick as we can.”

“I’m trying.”

Waiting was the worst, Gabi decided. They had been there three hours, and Andrew had been back there without her a full 45 minutes already. She wished she’d asked to go back there with him, but it was too late for that now. Not that they would have let her or that he would have wanted her to go.

She tried to concentrate on the poster about choking on the wall, but nothing held her interest. Nothing but the clock and the memory of him white as a sheet sitting there by her sink. Why had she made that stupid deal with him earlier? She was so dumb. If it wasn’t for her brilliant idea, none of this would be happening. She leaned her head back against the wall and let the memories of the last few days flood over her — seeing him for the first time, him playing basketball with the guys, interviewing her, holding the babies, listening to her play the piano.

“Gabi,” he said quietly, and her eyes flew open. He smiled down at her, and her heart danced with relief.

Coming out of her daydream, she stumbled to her feet. “You okay?”

“Four stitches,” he said, holding up his bandaged hand, “but yeah, I’ll live.”

With a frustrated breath, Gabi closed her eyes and willed this whole situation away. She felt so responsible.

“I’m fine. Really,” he assured her. “Let’s get out of here.”

It was well after eleven when they pulled back into the center’s parking lot.

“Are you going to be okay to drive?” she asked, every new thought bringing a new worry with it.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding much stronger than before. “Are you going on home?”

She shut off the car and sighed. “Actually, I thought I’d better go clean up the rest of the glass. It’s either now or in the morning.”

Popping his door open, he dragged himself out of her car. “I’ll help.”

Quickly she got out and slammed her door. “No, it’s all right, Andrew. Really. I can handle it.”             

“I didn’t say you couldn’t handle it,” he said, meeting her at the front of her car. “I said I’ll help.”

She looked at him for a long minute before giving up and heading back to the building.

“Besides I can’t leave you here by yourself,” he continued as he followed her, and with his now white bandaged hand up against the middle of his chest, it wasn’t hard to remember why they were still there. “It’s not safe.”

“It’s as safe here as anywhere,” she said, bristling on account of her own stupidity in the situation rather than at his gallantry.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he said as she unlocked the door, and they made their way down the hallway.

Gabi stalked forward in silence, wishing her heart would agree with her head and make him leave right now. She didn’t want to be here in this big, empty building alone with him. In fact, having him here made her feel less safe than if he went home, but she didn’t dare tell him that because then she would have to answer the question of why, which scared her more than the danger of having him here did.

She went into her room and stopped at the sight. What a mess. Overwhelm hit her like a brick. How were they ever going to get this cleaned up? Glass. Blood. Towels. They were everywhere. Then the realization that she should have found him a broom earlier hit her, and guilt flooded her mind again.

“I’ll go get a broom,” she said, turning, but he was standing right behind her, and in a heartbeat her body collided with his. That sent her careening backward away from him. “Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry. I just... I…” Her gaze was buried in the floor at their feet as heat and embarrassment cascaded through her.

Standing there, he looked both helpless and worried. “Gabi…”

“The broom.” She pointed past him without taking her eyes off the floor. “It’s…It’s out there.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” Still looking at her with concern, he stepped aside to let her pass.

She glanced up at him, but she could feel her cheeks burning, and she quickly ducked her head and went out in search of the broom.

Andrew felt like a complete idiot. The mess on the floor was enough. The look in her eyes was worse. What she must think of him, and he didn’t blame her. He couldn’t even fix a stupid window. What a klutz. Going over and sitting on his heel, he carefully picked up some of the glass and dumped it into the trash. Some maintenance man he was turning out to be, he thought as he reached for another piece.

“Don’t touch that!” she gasped from the doorway, and he froze halfway to the next piece.

He turned to look at her. “I was just...”

“Are you kidding me? Don’t touch that.” She came over with the broom and dustpan as he stood.

“Gabi…”

“No. Andrew. You already cut yourself once. That’s gonna send Jerry into cardiac arrest in the morning, do you want to do it again?” Brushing past him, she stepped between him and the mess and dropped the dustpan to the floor with a clatter. She was angry with him. Again. How did that keep happening?

“Jerry?” he asked in genuine confusion.

“Yeah. Workman’s Comp.” Bending, she swept the glass into a pile. “One more expense to add to our growing list.” She picked that stack up and dumped it into the trash.

“What? I’m not going to file a claim,” he said, puzzled. “I’m going to pay for this.”             

“Oh, sure,” Gabi said, half-wishing her voice would register the emotion she was really feeling, but knowing at the same time that would be a disaster, too. Guilt, concern, anger — pick one. None were good options as far as she could tell. “Why don’t you just go back where you came from, Andrew? Why don’t you just go back to your little newsroom and write your little stories, and leave us alone to deal with our own broken out windows?”

“I just wanted to help,” he said, this time sounding truly wounded.

“Well, you’re not,” she said as her conflicting feelings for him clutched at her heart and twisted in her gut. He was making her crazy, and for some reason she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t get a hold of it.

He put his head down, the hurt from her harsh words digging deeply into his heart. He had thought he was finally doing something good. He had thought he’d found something real, but the realization that she really didn’t care that he was trying hit him hard. Part of him tried to think rationally, but the only thought penetrating the hurt was the one that said what a gullible idiot he was. She didn’t care about him. She hated him, and nothing was ever going to change that.

Gabi closed her eyes as her own words sounded in her ears, and all motion in the room ceased. What a terrible thing to say. Why would she say something like that? Why? She had no logical answer for it.

“Andrew,” she said softly, looking up at him from the floor and then standing to face him. He wouldn’t even look at her. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Look, I know I was a jerk to begin with,” he said, nodding as he leaned against the wall, “but I really thought I was making some progress, that I wasn’t the jerk who walked in here last week.”

“You weren’t. You aren’t. You are,” she said, desperately wanting to salvage this situation, but not knowing how to do that. “I was way out of line. I’m sorry.”

The nodding continued and he didn’t look at her for a long time. When his gaze came up to hers, there was more hurt in it than one gaze should be able to hold. “So you really think I’m doing all of this just to get a story?”

“I don’t know what to think.” Gabi sighed in frustration. “First, you come in here and insult my kids, then I turn around, and you’re washing windows and carrying babies around. What am I supposed to think? Huh? What?”

Andrew stood in silence, head down, trying to come up with a way to explain what had happened to him in last week. He wasn’t sure he even understood it.

“When I got assigned this story, I didn’t want it,” he began, each word took effort because of the honesty they contained. “In fact I did everything I could to get out of it. You’re right I was arrogant and self-centered. I thought everyone who lived in Collins was either a criminal or on welfare, and I thought I was too good to do some dinky story about a volunteer center that would be closed down by the end of the year.

“But then I came in here on Monday, and the truth is I hadn’t changed my take on the place until I saw you playing piano for the kids. I can’t explain it. I just had to know more about the place after that.”

“You came back because of me?” she asked, trying to wrap her mind around what he was saying.

“Yeah, mostly. But then, I don’t know. I got to talk to you and some of the others, and I guess I got hooked. I know I can’t do what you do for the center, but I wanted to do something — even if it’s only replacing a broken window. It’s something.”

All the air left from Gabi’s chest. She didn’t know what to say. After the way she’d treated him, laying his heart opened like that was either very brave or very stupid on his part, but one thing was for sure she would never be able to look at Andrew Clark, reporter, the same way after tonight.

“So, I guess you think I’m crazy,” he sighed, and she said nothing. He nodded and let out a long breath. “I should be going now.”

Pushing away from the wall, he looked at her for one brief second. She didn’t move just stared at him with that look of not quite knowing if she believed him or not. He took the hint. He’d taken his shot, and he’d missed miserably. There was nothing left to say — nothing he could face up to anyway. He’d blown his chance, and now the only real option was to go back where he belonged. He ducked his head, and somehow his feet moved toward the door.

“Wait,” she said just as he reached it. His feet stopped at the first sound of her voice. “Please, don’t go.”

Andrew’s heart soared, but his face barely registered the words’ impact on him as he turned back to where she stood. Her eyes stayed, however, on the glass at her feet, and for one brief second, he thought he’d imagined the whole thing. Maybe he had. Maybe…

“I was impressed with your work today, and I wasn’t the only one,” she said, the words directed at the floor instead of him. A second and she lifted her gaze, sweeping her fingers across the long strands of hair that were falling into her face. “Everyone who came in here this morning noticed you washing the windows out front, and they were all asking who you were.”

“Really?” he asked, not daring to let his heart get hopeful again. Hope was just a one-way street to heartache as far as he could tell.

“Really. And I know Jerry’s excited about having you here, too,” she continued as her gaze fell back to the glass. “Any extra help is welcome as far as he’s concerned. And the truth is, it was really kind of fun having you hear me play today with the kids.” She looked at him as sheepishness and pink touched her cheeks. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Caught in the vortex of her, he swayed. “You’re really very good.”

“The truth is, I think you’re an asset to this place,” she said, ignoring his compliment. “And I think you should stick around — as long as you need to — for your story and everything.”

The story was the least of why he was staying, but he didn’t tell her that.

“So, would you like some help with that window?” he asked, testing the waters.

She smiled, and one dimple peeked out. “That would be nice.”

It took every ounce of determination and duty she had to get out of bed the next morning. After only five hours of sleep, her body almost revolted when Gabi pulled it from under the covers. It was a good thing they’d replaced the window last night, or her classroom would be freezing right now, and then she smiled at the thought. Even bandaged, he refused to leave until they had the new window in place. Now if only she could summon that much determination to face today.

“Just keep moving,” she said, hopping from foot to foot, wishing she had laid out suitable clothing the night before when it was warm. Going through her closet, she thought she might freeze to death before she found something appropriate or at least not absolutely horrible. “Too cold. Too old. Too... yuck,” she said, reciting the litany over the sparse contents of her closet. She really needed new clothes, and then she berated herself for that thought.

“These clothes were good enough yesterday, and they’re good enough for today,” she said, but her heart didn’t believe a word of it. Somehow she wanted to look especially nice today, and though her brain warned her to be rational, her heart went on a little daydream featuring Andrew and herself in living color. She let out a frustrated breath. “What am I doing? I’m going crazy. That’s what I’m doing.”

A feeling of dread crossed over him as Andrew rode the elevator up to the fourth floor newsroom. A whole day had passed since he’d been here. A whole day, and there wasn’t an ounce of him that really cared. The doors slid open, and he stepped out into the din of the morning news rush, his hand still bandaged from the night before.

“Drew! That was some story Tuesday,” Kyle, a runner Andrew by first name only, said, greeting him at the copy machine.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling but there wasn’t much happiness about it.

His desk was still there, just as it had been for ten years now. But as he sat down at it today, it somehow looked foreign — like it was part of another lifetime. The computer screen winked at him from the desktop.

He needed to get to work, but his mind simply wasn’t in it. It was back at the center with the kids and Gabi. Surely she was there by now, and the kids were starting to arrive. He was going to join them as soon as he got something written on this for Bill. The hand would be a problem, but only a mild one he hoped.

“Well, it’s nice to see you haven’t completely forgotten about us,” Bill said, leaning on the side of the computer.

“Hey, Bill. How’s it going?” Andrew asked barely looking up from his typing.

“What happened to the hand?”

“Maintenance accident.”

“Maintenance?”

“I was helping fix a window, and I wasn’t paying enough attention to what I was doing. It’s no big deal.” Andrew waved the question away with his good hand and continued staring at his computer, hoping Bill would just leave, but he couldn’t be that lucky.

“Well, I’m glad to see you back. I thought we’d lost you.”

“No, I’m here,” Andrew said, but reluctance traced around the edges of the statement.

“That’s good,” Bill said suddenly serious as he pointed to his office, “because we need to talk.”

“Talk?” Andrew looked up, puzzled as he got to his feet and followed Bill who had already started back for his office. “Okay.”

In the office which overlooked the newsroom, Bill let Andrew go in first and then closed the door behind them. He went around to the squeaky, old office chair and settled himself in it before he began. Andrew took a seat opposite the desk and held his injured hand without noticing it.

“Now, Son, I have no question that your story was one-hundred percent legit, and I had no qualms at all about running it, but I got a call from some FBI suits last night, and it seems the clerks at the courthouse aren’t cooperating as well as they’d expected them to, and... well, they want the information that we have — make that the information
you
have.”

Andrew absorbed that news. “The tapes.”

“Specifically, yes. And anything else you uncovered while you were working on it.”

Nodding his understanding of the situation, Andrew breathed to keep himself calm. This was trouble, and he knew it.

“They also want to know how you obtained the information and who your sources were,” Bill said as Andrew fidgeted in his seat.

“My sources are confidential and so are the tapes,” Andrew said, trying to sound tough. “You know that.”

“Yes. I realize that, and believe me, I’ll back you to the hilt on this thing, but I’m afraid the feds may not agree.” The stone-cold seriousness in Bill’s voice made Andrew’s blood run cold.

He reached for his old bravado and wound up with mostly air. “I don’t have to talk.”

“No, you don’t, but you have to know that they could make things very difficult for you if you decide not to.”

Every time she got a glimpse of the shiny new window in her classroom, Gabi’s heart danced. True, she had been disappointed when his car hadn’t been in the parking lot this morning, but then again, he probably didn’t get much sleep last night either. So, he was entitled to a little bit of a rest.

As the children colored, she wondered where he was, and when she would bump into him again. Her daydreams were in overdrive by now, and there were no brakes anywhere to be found.

“Alex Morgan, FBI,” Andrew’s worst nightmare who suddenly appeared next to his computer said. “This is Agent Reese. Are you Andrew Clark?”

Looking up for a second, Andrew punched buttons on the computer to save his work. “I am.”

The man with dark, closely clipped hair resembled a gargoyle with his scowling features. “May we speak privately, Mr. Clark?”

“Of course.” Andrew stood, buttoned his suit coat and followed the men into Bill’s office, feeling the gazes fall on him from every direction of the newsroom. This was bad, very, very bad, and he knew it.

When the knock she’d been expecting all morning came on her door, Gabi dropped everything and hurried to answer it. However, her heart sank as she saw who was there.

“Oh, hi, Jerry,” she said not hiding the disappointment very well.

“Hi, Gabi,” Jerry said as if the place was on fire. “Umm, listen, I have someone here I’d like you to meet.” He put his hands on little shoulders and guided a small, black boy to his side. “Gabi, this is Antonio. Antonio, this is Miss Treyvillion.”

“Well, hello, Antonio.” Gabi squatted to his level and offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Antonio just stood there, a look of sheer terror and mistrust scrawled across his tiny face.

“Antonio will be joining your class — at least for a while,” Jerry said, and Gabi caught without really understanding it at least some of his meaning. Transits. They came in, and they left before most teachers ever even learned the child’s name.

“Well, Antonio, tell Mr. Richardson thank you, but I think we can take it from here,” Gabi said, smiling at both of them in reassurance. She would get the full story later, but for now, it was important to make Antonio feel welcome and at home. “How about you come with me?” She took his tiny hand in hers and led him into the classroom as Jerry closed the door behind them. “We have some really cool blocks over here.”

“No. I will not tell you my sources’ names nor will I give you the tapes or my documents,” Andrew said for the thousandth time. “That stuff is off-limits, and you know it.”

“Mr. Clark,” Agent Reese said as if speaking to a two-year-old and trying to be patient. “I don’t think you understand the implications of keeping this information to yourself.”

“I understand the implications perfectly,” Andrew said, just as condescendingly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m giving it to you.”

“We have ways to make you reconsider that, Mr. Clark.”

“I’m aware of that,” he said as the bile and fear rose in his throat, “but my mind’s made up. I have a confidential source, and that source will stay confidential.”

“We can get a subpoena,” Reese said.

“Yes, you can, but unless you’ve tried to get the information elsewhere, I wouldn’t suggest it,” Andrew said without taking the bait.

That seemed to anger his adversary. “And why not?”

“Because the judge will throw all of it out if you don’t at least go through the motions of trying to get it from someone else,” Andrew said, his voice sounding as though he was talking to a kindergartner, but he was in fact shaking in his shoes the whole time.

“I see you’ve done your homework,” Agent Reese said, glaring at him with contempt.

Andrew narrowed his eyes at the man standing before him. “Yes, and I suggest you do likewise before you show up here throwing around empty threats.”

“Oh, believe me,” Reese said, “they’re not empty.”

Agent Morgan sighed. “I think we’re done here. Come on, Reese.”

Not happily, the other agent followed him to the door where Morgan stopped and turned, his hand on the knob. “You’re not planning any vacations in the near future are you, Clark?”

The implication slammed into Andrew, but he didn’t so much as flinch. “No.”

“Good.”

“Hey, I was playing with that!” Bobby yelled, reaching for the toy, just as Antonio yanked it from him.

“Antonio!” Gabi said, her anger getting away from her and spilling into her tone. “You give that back right now. Around here we share.”

The small boy glared at her with a look of pure hate and put the toy defiantly behind his back.

“Antonio, give me that,” she said, trying harder to measure her words. He backed further away from her as she followed him, putting herself between him and the others who she knew were watching. “Antonio, I said give me the toy.”

He just stared at her and kept backing — right into the wall. Gabi put her hand out, stopping a couple feet away. She didn’t want to threaten him, and she didn’t want to scare him, but there were rules in this classroom, and everyone followed them.

“Antonio,” she said, “give me the toy.”

He wound his little body protectively around the hand that remained behind his back and said nothing. His eyes were balls of fire and ice.

“Antonio.” She inched her way closer to him closing the space between them. Just then he let out a shriek that would’ve frozen the blood of a banshee, and in an instant he was at her knees kicking, clawing, and biting at every piece of her he could get to.

Her first instinct was to run, and she almost did. But then maternal instinct for the others kicked in over survival instinct for herself. It was a battle of wills as she attempted to subdue him without getting even more wounded in the fracas.

“Antonio, stop it!” She fought to contain the rage that was in her arms, but it wasn’t working at all. “Antonio! Ow! I’m not going to hurt you. Just stop. Antonio, stop!” Grabbing him around the waist, she worked to quell the tantrum, but he kicked over her, and his foot met one of the little tables, sending it and the students around it scattering as it crashed the opposite direction.

“Antonio,” she gasped, fighting desperately for control. Then it came to her, stop fighting. It was the only way to win this battle. She let him go, and he rolled away from her onto the floor, scrambling to his feet and eyeing her with a ferociousness that dredged up her own fear.

“Antonio, look at me,” she said softly, getting to her knees and holding up her hands. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

The tiny boy looked at her, and for a single second she saw the fear through the rage.

“I don’t want to fight.” Keeping her hands in the air though she knew full well how out of sorts she must look, she held her ground but advanced no further. “I want to be your friend.”

He looked at her warily, calmer now, but she stayed where she was — not wanting to provoke another scene.

“Gabi, are you okay?” Jerry asked suddenly appearing at the door with Shaniquille.

“I’m fine, Jerry,” Gabi said never taking her eyes off Antonio. “We’re fine, right, Antonio?”

But he didn’t move. He just stared at her with the look of the pure hatred of a tiny demon from hell.

“Like I said we’ll back you on this thing, but I really think you should go talk to Anton Kesler in legal — just to give you some idea of what might be coming,” Bill said, looking a decade older as he sat there across his desk.

Andrew sat in silence studying the desk leg at his feet. He didn’t want to think about where this could go.

“You gonna be okay?” Bill asked with concern.

“Yeah,” Andrew said, wishing with everything he had that he could be half as sure as he sounded. “I’ll be fine.”

Antonio was waiting quietly in the chair in Jerry’s office. The tantrum had disappeared, but the eyes hadn’t.

“Oww!” Gabi gasped as Jerry poured peroxide over the inch long gash in her arm.

“Oh. That might sting a little,” he said.

“Gee, thanks for the warning.” She lifted her arm and looked at the red marks, streaked with blood, that snaked down her arm.