“Why did she believe you and not me?” Matt complained.
“I never change my mind.”
The vinyl booth crackled as Matt leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. “Your name came up yesterday.”
“Let me guess. Delia Peake.” From the way the woman had glared at him from the back row of the choir on Sunday morning, Jake guessed she was still steamed that the animal who’d trampled her garden and sampled the produce as if it were a buffet had eluded capture. As far as Delia was concerned, if Jake was worth his salt as a police chief, he would have apprehended the furry little vandal himself. Never mind that he’d been out at the Barlow house at the time of the “attack.”
Jake jerked his thoughts back into line as they strayed to Emma Barlow. Again. Almost a week had gone by since he’d tossed protocol out of the window and presented her with an apple tree instead of a bouquet of roses. The memory of that morning should have started to fade. Instead, the opposite had occurred. Jake found himself thinking about it—about her—even more. Emma Barlow had a way of sneaking into his thoughts before he realized what was happening…
Like right now.
“No, it wasn’t Delia. This time.” From the amusement lurking in Matt’s eyes, Jake knew the pastor had heard about the garden fiasco. “A few months ago, Harold Davis, one of the church elders, met with me about starting a mentoring program. Matching men from the congregation with boys from single-parent families in town. The initial feedback from everyone was positive, so we researched the success of similar programs in other churches and wrote up a mission statement. I’ve been compiling a list of men willing to serve as positive role models for boys who don’t have one in their lives.”
Jake could see where this was going. “And you want to add mine to the list.”
“I already did.”
“This is where I remind you that I’m new to the area. You don’t know anything about me.” Only what Jake had told the pastor the first time they’d met, and he’d deliberately left out a few details of his former life.
“I know the important things.” Matt’s gaze remained level. “You’re a believer. You’re growing in your relationship with Christ. And you mentioned that you wanted to get involved in one of the ministries at Church of the Pines.”
Jake could have argued every point. He was a new believer. He had a long way to go when it came to relationships, not only with the Lord but with everyone in general. And he’d had no idea that a casual comment about serving in the church would bring about such quick results. Jake had meant it, but thought he would have more time to prepare for the task. Like a few months. Or years.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re awfully pushy for a preacher?”
“Can’t honestly say I’ve heard that one,” Matt denied cheerfully.
“Only because people won’t say it to his face,” Kate interrupted. She slid a steaming plate in front of the pastor and checked the level on Jake’s coffee cup before moving to the next table.
“We have a picnic planned for this coming Saturday,” Matt went on. “Not only to give potential parents information but as a meet and greet so the mentors can get to know the boys and vice versa. We’ll match up the pairs after that.”
“I don’t know,” Jake hedged. “I would have to know more about what’s involved.”
“It’s easy. You just take a kid who needs a little time and attention under your wing.”
Under his wing.
That, Jake thought, wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Not for someone like him, anyway. Not too long ago, the only thing he could claim to have “under his wing” was his duty weapon.
Maybe he should have thought it through a little more when he’d told God he would say “yes” to whatever He asked.
Especially considering that he had been about to die when he’d made the promise.
“Listen, Mom! Do you hear that?” Jeremy’s head popped out from behind the colorful screen that separated the children’s area from the rest of the library.
He had volunteered to reorganize the picture-book section, literally turned upside down by a rambunctious pair of four-year-old twin boys who had visited the library with their teenage babysitter earlier that morning.
Emma didn’t bother to tap her finger against her lips, a gentle reminder for her son to keep his voice down. For the past two hours, they had been the only ones in the building.
“Hear what?” She tipped her head, pretending to be unaware of the faint but unmistakable sound of music drifting through the open windows.
“The ice-cream truck.” Jeremy abandoned his post and rushed toward her. “Can I get something? Please?”
Emma was already reaching for her purse, stashed on the bottom shelf of the circulation desk. Apparently Charlie “The Ice-Cream Man” Pendleton had decided to take advantage of another hot August afternoon. His ancient truck, with its equally ancient sound system, drew children into the streets with an enthusiasm that transformed the local Christmas tree farmer into a Pied Piper in denim bib overalls.
The music grew louder, a sure sign that the ice-cream truck had just turned the corner as it cruised toward its destination—a shady spot in front of the Grapevine Café.
“Here you go.” Emma handed him some change. “Be careful when you cross the street.”
Jeremy stuffed the money into the front pocket of his khaki shorts. “I will.”
“And remember not to go any farther than the café.”
“I won’t.”
He’ll be fine, Emma told herself as the heavy door swung shut behind him.
Charlie Pendleton didn’t have a lot to say but below the dusty brim of the man’s faded cap were eyes as sharp and watchful as a school crossing guard. Not to mention that his first stop was located kitty-corner to the police station…
Emma’s heart dipped as an image of Jake Sutton flashed in her mind. And she didn’t appreciate him intruding on her thoughts like this, any more than she had his unexpected appearance on her doorstep.
Although he had left a few minutes after Jeremy had returned with the bucket of water for the apple tree, his departure hadn’t given Emma much relief. Because for some reason, Jake Sutton had become Jeremy’s favorite topic of conversation over the past few days.
He hadn’t even been disappointed that there were no flowers to take to the cemetery. Jake’s unexpected but creative gesture had impacted Jeremy in a way that Emma hadn’t anticipated.
It had impacted her, too, but not in the same way.
From what she had seen, Jake didn’t seem to care about things like rules or expectations or even simple protocol, for that matter. He reminded her of the timber wolves that had been introduced into the heavily wooded northern counties, but gradually migrated into more populated areas, unmindful of any boundaries, natural or man-made. Not necessarily dangerous, but unpredictable.
Only Emma didn’t want unpredictable. Not anymore.
On his way back to the department, Jake spotted Charlie Pendleton’s truck parked in front of the Grapevine Café. Unlike his route, the man’s appearance in town never followed a set pattern or schedule.
The ice-cream truck had rattled through town on several occasions, each time pulling Jake into a surreal Mayberry moment. A year ago, Jake wouldn’t have believed that a town like Mirror Lake actually existed.
Or that he would be living there.
He slowed down as he got closer and noticed a group of larger, middle-school-age boys push their way through the children patiently waiting to place their