Love Finds a Home

Positive role models to boys without fathers.

“It sounds like a good idea,” Emma murmured.

For someone else’s child.

She couldn’t imagine letting Jeremy spend time with someone she didn’t know, background check or not.

“Then we’ll see you and Jeremy on Saturday?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Emma hung up the phone. At least she hadn’t lied. She did think about it.

And the answer was no.

Why had she said yes?

Emma took one look at the people milling around the immaculate, beautifully landscaped lawn and almost turned the car around.

She glanced at Jeremy, who was already wrestling his seat belt off. Her son’s eager expression answered the question.

After that disturbing phone call from Pastor Wilde, Emma had waited until dinnertime to bring up the subject of the mentoring ministry, still convinced there had been a mistake—that someone else had turned in the registration form with her son’s name on it.

Jeremy’s whoop of excitement, however, had immediately proved Emma’s theory wrong. She hadn’t been prepared for his enthusiasm when he learned about the pastor’s invitation to the picnic…or his reaction when she told him they wouldn’t be able to go.

Emma winced at the memory.

He’d been crushed.

So Emma had explained—quite patiently she’d thought—the reasons why she didn’t think that being involved in the mentoring program was a good idea.

Jeremy had listened. And then her quiet, sensitive little boy had leaned forward, looked her straight in the eye and suggested a compromise.

A compromise!

“Mom, you’re always telling me that it isn’t a good idea to jump to conclusions, right? That a person should do some research before making a decision. I think we should go to the picnic and find out the facts. If you decide you don’t want me to do it, then I’ll be okay with that.”

How could she argue? Especially since it was obvious which member of the Barlow family was guilty of “jumping to conclusions” this time!

The request was fair. Reasonable. But now, watching a group of preadolescent boys zigzag across the lawn in hot pursuit of the one carrying a football, Emma was convinced she’d made a mistake.

“Jeremy—” The car door snapped the sentence in half.

Tension curled in Emma’s stomach.

There was no turning back now. Not only had Jeremy escaped, but Abby Porter had spotted their car and was making her way across the yard.

Somehow, the innkeeper managed to look stunning in faded jeans and a pale green T-shirt that matched her eyes. With her blond hair pulled back in a casual knot and a colorful apron tied around her waist, Abby looked far different from the sophisticated woman in velvet and pearls who had appeared in the ad campaigns for her family’s elite hotel chain in years past.

Emma, who’d chosen to wear a navy twill skirt and white blouse, felt positively dowdy by comparison.

“Emma!” Abby appeared at the window. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Emma wished she could say the same. She slid out of the driver’s seat, resisting the urge to dive back inside the vehicle. Abby immediately linked arms with her, almost as if the other woman had read her mind.

“The turnout this afternoon is higher than we expected.” Abby smiled. “I’m glad Pastor Wilde and Harold Davis realized there was a need for something like this in our community.”

The need for boys to have male role models in their lives.

The reminder scraped against Emma’s soul. She was doing her best to raise Jeremy. He was all she had left in the world. After Brian’s death, her son’s presence had warmed her heart like a tiny flame, keeping her emotions from growing cold. Over the years, Emma had tried to make sure Jeremy didn’t feel as if he were missing out on something, and yet now he wanted to spend time with a mentor. A stranger.

“I’m not sure it’s the right thing for Jeremy,” Emma said stiffly. She didn’t want to offend Abby but she needed to make it clear that she hadn’t made a decision whether or not he could join the program.

“Then I’m glad you came to check it out.” Abby didn’t look the least bit ruffled by her honesty. “And I’ve been hoping for a chance to talk to you. One of my guests asked for your business card last weekend.”

“I don’t have a business card,” Emma murmured, trying to keep track of Jeremy as he bounded ahead of them.

Abby gave her a playful nudge. “I know you don’t, silly. That was a hint.”

“The number for the library is in the phone book.”

Abby’s laughter caused several heads to swivel in their direction. “You’re so funny, Emma. And humble, too. I’m not talking about the library. Gloria Rogers saw the mosaic table in my perennial garden and she couldn’t stop raving about it. Of course—” Abby’s smile turned impish “—I might have mentioned that even though Mirror Lake Lodge has an exclusive contract with the extremely gifted artist who crafted the piece, you might be persuaded to take on more commissions.”

“Abby!” Emma didn’t bother to hide her shock. “It’s a hobby, something to pass the time. It’s not a business. I already have a job.”

Abby looked smug rather than repentant. “That’s exactly what I thought when I was sneaking into the hotel kitchen at midnight to make raspberry lemon tarts.” She made a sweeping gesture with one arm that encompassed the refurbished lodge and cabins. “Look where that ‘little hobby’ took me.”

But, Emma wanted to argue, that was different. Raspberry lemon tarts were meant to be shared. The mosaics she created had sprung from a need to fill long hours and hold painful memories at bay. And like her grief, she’d tried to keep that part of her life private. But in a town as small as Mirror Lake, word had gotten out.

“You can’t compare what we do,” Emma murmured. “You have a business degree. Experience. I don’t have any formal training.”

“You have a gift.” Abby’s tone left no room for argument. “And when God gives you a gift, it’s part of His plan.”

Doubt flared from the embers of Emma’s grief, snuffing out the unexpected flicker of longing that Abby’s words stirred in her heart. There had been a time in her life when she had believed it—before she began to wonder why, when it came to her, did God seem to take away more than He gave?

When she’d met Brian, he had swept her off her feet. She had become a wife at nineteen. A mother at twenty. But Emma’s dreams had encompassed a lifetime. They would make a home. Raise a family. Grow old together.

And then she’d lost him.

If all that had been part of God’s plan, it seemed safer to keep her distance from Him, too.

“Why don’t you and Jeremy find a table and I’ll get you both a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade?” Abby offered.

“All right.” Emma looked around but there was no sign of Jeremy. Anywhere. “I don’t see him.”

“He must have found someone to play with,” Abby said.

“Jeremy doesn’t care for sports.” And was often teased because of it. Tension cinched the muscles between Emma’s shoulder blades as she scanned the faces around her.

“Maybe he went down by the lake. Some of the boys were fishing from the dock earlier.”

Abby’s words, meant to calm her fears, had just the opposite effect. “Jeremy doesn’t know how to swim.”

Emma felt a pang of guilt at the quickly veiled surprise she saw reflected in Abby’s green eyes. She knew what the other woman was thinking. What parent, who lived in a town built on the shore of a lake, wouldn’t insist that their child learn to swim?

Emma tried to swallow the knot of panic forming in her throat as Abby gave her arm a comforting squeeze. “I have an idea,” she said. “There isn’t a boy—or man, for that matter—who will ignore the sound of a dinner bell. I’ll give it a ring and I guarantee that you won’t have to find Jeremy—he’ll find you.”

“Thank you.” Emma gave Abby a grateful look but didn’t wait to see if her idea would work.

She headed down to the lake.

Jake heard the clang of a bell, rallying the troops for lunch, and knew he was running out of time.

The team of mentors would be introduced right after Abby served the meal. If he wanted to let Matt know that he would be more comfortable volunteering in another area of the ministry, he had to do it soon.

Jake had come to the conclusion that he wasn’t mentor material only minutes after he’d shown up for the picnic. He had rusty social skills and rough edges his newfound faith hadn’t had time to hone. And to top it off, he didn’t know a thing about kids. Call him crazy, but wasn’t being able to relate to kids an important qualification when it came to being a mentor?

He had taken a walk down the shoreline to think. And to pray.

You know I’m willing, Lord, but I don’t think I’m cut out for this. Guys like Matt are better at it. Kids love him—I’d probably scare them away. You must have something else in mind for me, so let me know what it is and I’ll do it.

Maybe the prayer team could use another volunteer. He had as much experience in that area as he did interacting with kids, but at least the chance of doing any significant damage remained smaller.

As Jake turned to go back to the lodge, a movement farther down the shoreline caught his attention. He paused, wondering if the flash of color had been a red-winged blackbird searching the cattails for something to eat.

Until he heard a splash.

Knowing how mischievous boys could be, Jake doubted that Matt had given them free rein of the premises for the picnic. The pastor and Quinn O’Halloran, a local businessman and member of the congregation, had planned a variety of games, part of an ingenious strategy for deterring them from creating their own entertainment. If it were boys from the picnic who’d wandered out of sight.

Off duty or not, Jake had no choice but to check it out. He’d received several complaints earlier in the week from some of the local fishermen, who claimed their vehicles had been broken into while parked at the boat landing. Jake couldn’t prove it—yet—but he had a sneaking suspicion that whoever was responsible for breaking into the summer cabins had decided to broaden the playing field.

Jake bypassed the trail and created his own route, one running parallel to the marked hiking path that curved around the lake. As he reached the shore, he saw a boy standing knee-deep in the water, tugging on a rope attached to a makeshift raft bobbing in the waves. He was in no immediate danger that Jake could see, but because the kid’s frame looked as thin as one of the reeds growing along the shoreline, Jake decided to lend a hand. “Hold on!”

At the sound of Jake’s voice, the boy turned to look at him.

Jake, who’d always prided himself on keeping his emotions in check, felt his jaw drop in disbelief.

There was no mistaking that pair of serious blue eyes and unruly hank of sandy blond hair.

Jeremy Barlow looked just as astonished to see him. “Chief S-Sutton.”

Chapter Five

Without a second thought, Jake kicked off his shoes and waded into the water. Together, they began to pull the raft into the shallows.

“Thanks,” Jeremy gasped.

“Does this belong to you?”

Jeremy shook his head, spraying Jake with droplets of lake water. “I saw it floating out there. I was afraid a boat might hit it.”

That answered one of his questions. But Jake had another, more important, one. “What are you doing down here by yourself?”

“I’m not by myself,” Jeremy said quickly. “I’m with my mom.”

“Really?” Jake refused to give in to the sudden urge to look around and see if there was another familiar face close by. A familiar face dominated by smoke-blue eyes and hair the pale golden-brown of winter wheat. “Where is she?”

“She’s, um, talking to Miss Porter. At the lodge.”

So Emma and Jeremy hadn’t come to Mirror Lake Lodge for the picnic. That shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Emma was as protective as a mama bear with a cub. Jake couldn’t imagine she would trust her son’s care to someone else, even for a few hours.

Especially someone like you, an inner voice mocked.

Jake couldn’t argue with that. Emma had managed to express her opinion of him the day they’d met without saying a single word. And it wasn’t, he reminded himself, as if being Jeremy’s mentor was even an option.

Prayer team, remember?

But that didn’t mean he was going to leave Jeremy alone by the water. “Does she know you’re down here?”

The guilty look on Jeremy’s face said it all. “I didn’t mean to go this far.”

“I’ll tell you what—I’ll walk back there with you.”

His officers might question his sanity, but the thought of seeing Emma again actually lightened Jake’s mood. Although given her response when he’d brought Jeremy back in the squad car, he doubted she would be anxious to see him again.

“Thanks.” Jeremy bit his lip as he looked down at his shorts. “I don’t think I was supposed to get wet, either.”

“The sun is shining. You’ll air-dry in no time,” Jake said lightly. “And though I appreciate the fact that you fished this thing out of the lake, the next time—”

“Look!” Jeremy let go of the rope, his startled cry interrupting Jake’s lecture on water and the “buddy system.” He pointed to a black canvas bag riding along the bottom. As the raft had bumped along the rocks, the bag had ripped open, leaving a trail of tools in the water.

Jeremy began to collect them while Jake hauled the bag onto shore to examine it more closely. He frowned when he saw the name FIELDING stamped on the side of the fabric. Rich Fielding had been one of the people whose cabins had been broken into.

Jeremy knelt beside him, clutching a hammer and wrench against his damp T-shirt. His eyes widened when he read the name on the bag. “I know Mr. Fielding. He teaches science at my school.”

“Well, I guarantee he’s going to be happy to have his property returned.”

“You mean this stuff was stolen?”

“That’s right.” Jake lifted one side of the raft and looked underneath it to see if they’d missed anything. “You have pretty good detective skills.”

“Really?” Jeremy’s eyes shone with the same pride Jake had seen when he’d let him dig the hole for the apple tree.

Jake didn’t have an opportunity to answer because Emma burst into view.

“Jeremy Brian Barlow!”

Emma’s gaze locked on the boy standing at the edge of the water. At the moment, she wasn’t sure whether to scold him or hug him. Or both.

“What are you doing down here?” The panic that had fueled her frantic search drained away, leaving her weak with relief. As Emma took a step forward, the wet sand gave way beneath her feet. She would have stumbled if a hand hadn’t shot out to steady her. “Careful.”

Emma’s head jerked up. Her relief at finding Jeremy safe and sound was so great, she had barely spared a glance at the man standing a few feet away from him.

Not that Jake Sutton was easy to overlook. Both times Emma had seen the police chief, he’d been in uniform. Today he wore plainclothes suitable for a Saturday afternoon picnic, but the faded jeans and black T-shirt only accentuated the man’s rugged, almost untamed, good looks.

For some inexplicable reason, the touch of his hand sowed goose bumps up her arm.

What was he doing here, of all places?

Emma pulled away and turned toward her son. “You know the rules, honey.” She wasn’t sure if the crackle in her voice was the aftershock of relief from finding Jeremy, or because the warm imprint of Jake’s fingers lingered on her skin. “You’re supposed to ask for permission if you want to go somewhere.”

“I found Mr. Fielding’s tools, Mom,” Jeremy said. “Someone hid them under the raft. Chief Sutton said I have good detective skills.”

“You went out on a raft?” Emma directed the question at Jeremy but cut an accusing look at Jake.

“Not in it, Mom,” Jeremy said. “I pulled it out.”

“It was in the shallow water. Jeremy wasn’t in any danger,” Jake interjected quietly.

Emma turned back to Jeremy, hoping Jake Sutton would take the hint that this matter was between her and her son. “You have to be careful by the water,” she reminded him, all too aware that Jake could hear every word.

“I know.” Jeremy released a gusty sigh as he pulled on his socks and tennis shoes, a reminder that he’d heard this particular lecture before. “But if I knew how to swim, you wouldn’t have to worry so much.”

Emma felt the weight of Jake’s gaze and her cheeks flamed. She wasn’t about to explain that it was impossible to teach her son something that she didn’t know how to do.

That responsibility should have fallen to Brian. After all, her husband had loved to brag about how much time he and his friends spent in the lake every summer.

One of the high-school athletic coaches offered lessons at the beach every summer, but Emma’s job prevented her from leaving to transport Jeremy there and back—and she was hesitant to trust someone she didn’t know with his safety.

Discouragement settled over her, the weight of it all too familiar. “We should get back to the lodge.” And away from the censure Emma was afraid she would see in those amber eyes. “I’m sure everyone has started eating lunch already.”

Emma hoped the thought of food would divert Jeremy’s attention. Over the summer, his appetite had increased to the point where she’d started to wonder where he was putting it all. But instead of charging toward the lodge, Jeremy turned a hopeful look toward the very man Emma wanted to get away from.

“Aren’t you coming, Chief Sutton?”

She stifled a groan. From what Jake had said, Emma assumed he and Jeremy had met by accident. She hadn’t considered he might be a guest at the picnic.

Relief poured through her when Jake shook his head.

“I’m on my way back to the station.” He must have seen the disappointment on Jeremy’s face because he knelt down until they were eye to eye. “But I’ll tell you what. How about we go with ‘Chief Sutton’ when we’re out in public, but if it’s just the three of us, you can call me Jake. Is that a deal?”

Jeremy grinned. “It’s a deal.”

“But only if that’s okay with your mom.” Jake looked at her. “Emma?”

Why, she wondered in frustration, did Jake Sutton have to have such an attractive voice? The rich timbre washed over her, stirring her senses like the jazz she played on the radio while working on a mosaic.

“I suppose.” Emma saw no point making a fuss about it. She couldn’t think of any occasion where it would be just the three of them.

The thought should have been accompanied by relief, but the emotion that skittered through Emma felt, strangely enough, like…disappointment.

Jake watched Emma stumble in the sand again, only this time in her haste to get away from him.

You charmer, you.

Not that he’d tried to charm her. Jake was as out of practice at that particular skill as he was at making polite conversation over a glass of lemonade. Fortunately, what he did know how to do was diffuse a tense situation. And Emma had been strung as tight as a new bow when she’d discovered Jeremy by the lake.

Her panic may have faded, but she obviously hadn’t changed her opinion of him. She’d barely been able to make eye contact. And when Jake had taken hold of her arm, she had reacted as if he’d burned her.

What did Emma see when she looked at him? Did she see a man or a badge? Was he a person or the symbol of a career that had robbed her of a husband?

The thought chafed.

When he’d asked Phil about Emma after delivering the apple tree, the older officer had still been reluctant to talk about what happened. Jake had pressed a little, asking if Emma had changed after Brian died.

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