"So, have you and Joe set a wedding date yet?"
Kate Cassidy barely managed not to choke on her carrot-
stick appetizer.
Trapped in the corner by an interior designer, she
swallowed hard and relaxed her facial muscles in hopes of
avoiding that really unattractive expression she wore when
she just wanted to scream.
It was truly an unattractive look.
Kate knew because she'd looked in the mirror one day while
she made it, hoping it wouldn't be that bad. But it was.
She'd vowed to eradicate the expression from her face, but
it was hard. Especially lately, when someone asked that
question. Third time this evening at the Board of Realtors
dinner, in fact.
"Not yet," she said quietly, with what she hoped was a bit
of a smile.
"Oh." The woman, Gloria someone, waited expectantly for
Kate to elaborate, which Kate wasn't going to do. She'd
learned that if she was silent long enough, most people
quit asking and went away. But Gloria wasn't budging.
Okay. If things got really bad, she could always sink so
low as to play the sympathy card. Sorry, Mom. She let her
expression fall, allowed a shimmer of tears to come into
her eyes.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Kate. I guess it's just too soon, huh?"
Kate nodded with what she hoped was appropriate sadness
and grief, hoping her mother would understand. Kate had
finally found something she didn't know how to handle. All
her plans that had always gone so well seemed to have
fallen apart, and she didn't know what was right anymore
or what to do. It had started with her mother's death and
spilled over into every aspect of her life.
"It just takes time," Gloria said kindly, making Kate feel
worse. "And Joe's such a sweetie. I'm sure he understands."
Kate wasn't so sure he did. And she didn't want to think
about it. She wanted to ignore the whole mess and hope it
went away or solved itself, or that the answer just
dropped out of the sky or something.
Vaguely aware of new voices around her, Kate looked up to
see Charlie Sims, president of the Magnolia Falls,
Georgia, Board of Realtors.
"Kate, how are you?" he asked, extending a hand.
"Great, Charlie. How are you?"
"Couldn't be better, my dear. Have you met my wife,
Charlotte?"
"No, I haven't." Kate smiled down at the pint-size blonde
on Charlie's arm.
Charlie introduced them, and then Charlotte launched into
a tale about their recent wedding. Kate didn't listen. She
was too busy planning her escape. Was there anyone in this
room who didn't know that she and Joe were supposed to
have married this summer but hadn't because Kate's
mother's cancer had come back and she'd died in the spring?
There. Kate spotted two absolute strangers in the corner.
She was ready to make her excuses when Gloria said, "Oh,
that sounds like fun. I'd love to do that."
"Fabulous," Charlie said, sounding genuinely appreciative.
That got Kate's attention. She wanted Charlie to be happy
with her, because there wasn't a real estate agent in town
Charlie didn't know. He was a veritable gold mine of
referrals for Kate's fledgling mortgage company.
"What about you, Kate?" Charlie's wife asked.
"Care to come join us?"
Kate stood there with her mouth open. She had no idea what
she'd just been asked to do, but if Gloria could do it,
surely Kate could, too. Anything for Charlie and his
referrals.
"Of course," Kate said. "Sounds like fun."
"Oh, it is. The kids are great," Charlie's wife said.
Kids? They were doing something with kids?
"If you two will give me your fax numbers, I'll send you
an application. Fax it back, and we'll match you up."
Kate wasn't sure if she'd just applied for a job or joined
a dating service. Match us up? No, that couldn't be right.
Everyone here wanted news of her upcoming wedding to Joe.
Plus this was something to do with kids. It couldn't be
dating.
Kate obediently gave Charlie's wife her fax number.
It wasn't until the next day, when the fax arrived, that
she vaguely remembered something about Char-lie's new wife
taking over as director of the Big Brothers/Big Sisters
Program, and that Kate had just volunteered to be a Big
Sister.
Okay. How hard could that be?
Maybe she'd get lucky, and her little sister would be one
of the few people in town who wouldn't question her about
why she and Joe hadn't gotten married yet.
Ben Taylor hovered at the end of the hallway leading to
the front door, assessing his chances of sneaking out of
his office without getting caught, and thereby avoiding a
lecture from his nearly eighty-year-old secretary.
Her long-distance vision wasn't good, and she hated her
bifocals. Ben figured the odds were at least three-to-one
against her noticing him leaving. Which meant he could put
off for now her lecture about his unfortunate tendencies
to wander about, loose in the community, doing his
freelance, do-gooder thing and getting into trouble, all
while just trying to help people.
Ben really tried to help. He wasn't sure if he was just
bad at it or if people's problems were getting worse. It
seemed no one walked in with a simple issue he could solve
anymore, and really, wasn't he here to solve problems?
"Should have just kidnapped the girl," he muttered to
himself. "Or maybe held her hostage until I could talk
some sense into her."
"You say something, Pastor?" It was Rose, the nice lady
who lived three blocks down and came to clean every other
day.
"No, ma'am." Ben sighed. "But I'm going out for a few
minutes. Will you tell Mrs. Ryan if she asks about me?"
"Sneakin' off again, Pastor?"
"Maybe," he admitted.
He and Mrs. Ryan would have to come to an understanding
about his straying from the office one of these days, but
this wasn't the day, and he wasn't up to a scolding by a
scrunched-over, outspoken taskmaster who reminded him of
his great-grandmother.
"Will you tell her I've gone out?" he asked Rose.
"I guess I'll have to," Rose said. "I'm the only one who's
not scared of her."
"I'm not scared," he claimed. It was just that... Well,
she did look a lot like his great-grandmother, and he'd
been raised to believe a boy never, ever argued with his
great-grandmother. His father would have seen it as an
appalling lack of respect. Of course, his father would
have thought sneaking out like this was cowardly, which
made this a classic no-win situation. He'd take the
cowardly way again. Rose wished him luck and said he owed
her one. He decided he'd bring her a latte from that
little shop down the block. She loved them but considered
them a luxury. It was the least he could do for her for
saving him from Mrs. Ryan.
He was nearly to the door when Rose said, "Now, just to be
clear on this, you're not really going to kidnap anyone,
are you?"
"No. Promise." The church probably frowned upon kidnapping
and hostage taking. He'd just have to find another way. He
was supposed to be able to keep people here long enough to
help them without resorting to those tactics, even if a
kidnapping could have made things so much simpler.
He must be doing something really wrong. "Okay," Rose
said. "I just wouldn't want to be around if Mrs. Ryan got
wind of you kidnapping someone."
"Neither would I." He would really be scared of the woman
then.
"So," Rose said. "What should I tell her when she comes
looking for you?"
"Nothing..."
"Pastor —"
"Okay, if she threatens to pull out your fingernails one
by one, you can tell her I've gone to see Charlotte Sims
at the Big Brothers/Big Sisters office. But only under
threat of torture. Understand?"
"Of course."
"Thanks, Rose."
He slipped out the door of the massive stone church, built
seventy-five years before, and tried not to think of his
shortcomings as an Episcopalian priest, as Mrs. Ryan saw
them. He was too young, wasn't married and had no
children, so he obviously didn't know enough about life to
help people with real problems. He tended to be more
informal in how he related to his parishioners and how
they related to him, than Mrs. Ryan thought was proper.
She thought it scandalous that he asked people to call him
Ben — Pastor Ben if they really felt it was necessary to
add some title to his name. And he was always behind on
his paperwork.
Those were his main failings, all of which he tried not to
think about as he headed for Magnolia Falls' Main Street.
He'd cross that and then go four blocks over, to Vine, to
see Charlotte Sims, a woman he hoped would be more
successful than he'd been at helping the teenager who'd
shown up at his church yesterday morning but run away
before Ben could do anything for her.
Honestly, she'd hardly given him ten minutes. Was he
really supposed to turn her life around in ten minutes?
Not that he'd left it at that.
He'd followed her, was probably lucky he hadn't been
arrested for stalking. Mrs. Ryan would have loved that.
The day that woman had to bail him out of jail was the day
he was out of here for good. Defrocked. Wasn't that what
they called it? He thought it sounded like an odd, modern-
dance number or maybe some obscure cooking term.
Defrock the basted chicken pieces, and heat oven to 375....
Okay, so he'd like to avoid defrocking, kidnapping,
hostage taking and stalking charges. He'd like to actually
do some good. He'd like to feel useful. He'd like to not
be afraid of Mrs. Ryan. He was her boss, after all. Not
that she showed any understanding of that.
He grinned remembering how horrified his secretary had
been by the girl's appearance yesterday. Truth be told,
Ben had been a bit taken aback, as well.
She had badly dyed, jet-black hair that looked like she'd
taken a razorblade to it, then gelled it to get it to
stand up in every direction; she was wearing at least
seven earrings. He didn't even want to imagine what else
she might have pierced. Shannon wore a black leather
jacket and tall boots, that odd white makeup on her face
and nearly black lipstick.
And it wasn't even Halloween.
She looked as if she was twelve going on forty, but he'd
found out she was actually fifteen, had lost her mother
and the grandmother who'd raised her, and was now living
with a father who couldn't have cared less about her, at
least not as she told the story. She said straight-out
that she didn't believe in God but was desperate enough
that day to give God — well, actually Ben — a chance. Ten
minutes to either help her or convince her to stay,
neither of which he'd done.
And she was pregnant, which made the whole situation even
more dire.
Ben had followed her, successfully avoided stalking
charges, resisted kidnapping her, and found her in the
parking lot of the local high school talking to one of his
parishioners, Betty Williams, who happened to teach there.
A nicer, more successful do-gooder, he'd never met. And
Betty had told him to get Shannon into the local Big
Brothers/Big Sisters program, if he could. They were full,
with a waiting list a mile long. Betty had checked.
It had taken a little unauthorized deal making to get
Shannon a spot at the front of the line, and he hated to
make other kids wait longer for help, but there was the
baby to consider. So Ben had turned wheeler-dealer,
offering an as-yet-undefined favor to the director of Big
Brothers/Big Sisters, which was why he was sneaking out of
church this morning, to see what the deal would cost him.
He arrived at the pretty brick building and was just about
to grab the door, when it opened on its own.
Hmm.
He liked open doors.
He thought they were a sign that someone was doing
something right.