Missionary Daddy

“We’ll need a full workday before the picnic,” he said. “To set up booths, put up signs, decorate.”

“What about the day before?”

“Can’t,” he said. “My calendar is full. I have to work.”

“I don’t,” Sam said. “The kids and I can handle it.”

With school still weeks away, most of the kids were at loose ends. So was Sam. Eric’s lip curled. She was on hiatus, a word the rest of the world barely understood.

“All right. Sounds good to me. I’ll leave the particulars up to you.”

Gina, usually quiet as a mouse, piped up. “Maybe the two of you should get together that night and go over everything. I mean, Eric can’t be there Friday. Sam needs to fill him in on the plans.”

“Great idea,” Nikki added. “Don’t you think, guys?” She gave the other teens a look that said they’d better agree and do it fast.

“Yeah. Sure. Eric, you don’t want to be in the dark. No telling what we might do without your input. You can’t trust a bunch of teenagers, you know. You and Sam should definitely get together that last Friday night before the picnic.”

Why were the kids behaving so strangely? He glanced at Sam, saw a flush on the crest of her cheekbones. He looked at Caleb and then at Anne. They both grinned like African hyenas.

What was up with this?

“All right. Sure. Whatever.” He looked at Sam. “Is that okay with you?”

She nodded mutely, an unusual turn of events, and Eric adjourned the meeting to the dining room.

As he pushed back from the table, Caleb came toward him, that annoying grin still on his face. “Might as well give up.”

“What are you talking about?” All these undercurrents were making him grumpy.

“The kids. They did it to Anne and me.”

Eric got a bad feeling. “Did what?”

“Played matchmaker.”

“And?”

“And now they have their sights set on you and Sam.”

“Me? Sam?” His blood pressure shot up. “You’re losing it, brother.”

At Caleb’s soft chuckle, Eric’s belly went south. He was having enough trouble with his own head on the subject of Samantha Harcourt. If this bunch of teenagers started in, he’d have no peace at all. Samantha was not the kind of woman he wanted to be interested in. Women like her aimed for the kneecaps and left you alone and bleeding.

At the sound of giggling, Eric glanced toward the dining-room doorway. Three pairs of teenaged eyes gleamed at him with speculation.

He was in trouble here. Serious trouble.

Chapter Four

Sam gazed around at the group of kids once again gathered in the Youth Center. They worked in small groups, sipping Cokes and munching on the tray of melon she had provided. A few lettered signs and glittered banners while others organized lists of volunteers and donations for the various booths. They were a good team with minimal arguments. Although a few heated discussions had cropped up in their days of working together, the problems were easily resolved.

Thank goodness this was one of the last committee meetings before the picnic. Not that she didn’t like the kids or enjoy the work. It wasn’t that at all. In fact, she’d taken on the task of helping Andrew Noble with some of the advance publicity for the event and found a certain satisfaction in both tasks. If her agent would stop calling every hour she’d almost be content.

The problem with the youth group was Eric. Or rather, the teens’ matchmaking attempts between Eric and her. Just when he’d begun to warm up a little, the kids had come up with this ridiculously obvious scheme and made them both uncomfortable.

From her spot next to Gina, she slid a look in Eric’s direction. He, Caleb, Jeremy and a couple of the other boys hammered together the wooden frame for the concession booth.

The muscles in his athletic shoulders flexed with each hammer strike, reminding her of that day in Africa. Even in ordinary jeans and a yellow T-shirt that darkened his skin to bronze, Eric was by far the best-looking guy in Chestnut Grove. At least from her viewpoint.

He was nothing like most men of her acquaintance, but that was a good thing. Deep inside, Sam remained a small-town girl who admired a man with the common sense to change his own tires and wield a hammer. A man’s man. Masculine, strong, steady.

Gina’s voice interrupted her ruminations. “He’s cute for an older guy.”

Great, she’d been caught staring. “When are all of you going to give this up? Neither Eric nor I are interested.”

“Really?” Nikki asked, popping a square of juicy watermelon past her black-lined lips. She clearly didn’t believe Sam’s protest.

“Really. Now can we talk about something else?”

“Well, we do have another idea,” Gina said.

“Oh, good.” Sam rolled her eyes heavenward. “Now I’m really worried.”

“We want to know how you keep in shape.”

That question she could handle. She sprinkled glitter around a block letter and said, “I have a daily exercise regime, which I never skip.” Style would fire her in a New York minute unless she looked perfect in their clothes. “Why?”

She worked like crazy to stay in shape and worried constantly. Between the need to properly handle her eating disorder and the need to stay in perfect condition, she often felt as though she would never be enough. Not good enough. Not pretty enough. Not thin enough.

That feeling was part of the vicious cycle that had caused the disorder in the first place.

“We want you to start a workout program here at the center for us.” Gina pushed her paper plate of melon to one side. After cutting a single slice of cantaloupe into a dozen tiny bites, she’d left it mostly uneaten. A warning bell, one that had rung every time she’d been with Gina, went off in Sam’s head.

“You don’t need an exercise program,” Sam said earnestly.

“Gina doesn’t. She has great willpower, but the rest of us can’t stay away from the French fries. Won’t exercise offset the calories?” Tiffany asked hopefully.

“That all depends, but exercise helps. You need exercise anyway,” Sam said. “The most important thing is maintaining good health.”

“You sound like my mom,” Tiffany said.

“Sorry. But your mom is right. Your health is everything.” Sam had learned that the hard way. Some things lost could never be regained.

“So will you do it?” Nikki pressed. “Will you start a class?”

She worked out anyway. Why not encourage the girls to stay fit in the process? Exercising with them would be a lot more fun than doing it alone. “I could ask Scott if the church would mind. It’s easy to set up a combination Jazzercise/aerobics regime. It might even be fun.”

And in the process she could discuss healthy eating with the girls and get better acquainted with Gina. The girl worried her.