A Family for Faith

They were talking hormones here. Male and female in close proximity. Male and his daughter in close proximity. “Time to go, Chels. Tell your friends bye.”

“Chief Reynolds,” Valerie said. “Please let her stay. My mom just ran to pick up a prescription. She’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“I better go,” blurted the young Pruitt boy.

About time he took the hint. The boy couldn’t get out the door fast enough.

Good. Maybe he wouldn’t come back.

Chelsea snatched up her purse and stormed out of the café not far behind Pruitt.

Faith shook her head, then walked over behind the counter. As if he’d failed some test.

He followed her there and he couldn’t help but notice how good she smelled. Like last night only with the added sweetness of the pastries. And the coffee. All his favorite smells. “Why are you looking at me as if I’m the villain here?”

She got right in his face and whispered, “You knew she’d be safe here with me. Why’d you have to embarrass her and ruin her fun?”

“Because she’s too young to be sneaking off with boys.”

Faith’s mouth fell open as a huff whooshed out. “She didn’t sneak off. The others decided to come—as a group, I might add—once they found out Chelsea was here.”

“And how did they know she was here?” He drummed his fingers on the counter. “That Pruitt boy—”

“Parker.”

“Those Pruitts are bad news. Parker had his arm around her. He was practically drooling on her.”

Faith glanced at Valerie and Theresa. “I was watching every move, ready to step in. Nothing inappropriate happened.” She snapped a paper towel off the roll and wiped something off the counter. “You asked me to watch her and now you don’t trust my judgment.”

Great. Faith was trying to help him, and he’d made her—and his daughter—mad at him in one fell swoop.

“Look, I’m sorry. This is new territory.”

With a white-knuckled grip, she attacked a coffee ring on the counter. “I understand. You better go check on her.”

He’d really blown it. He tried to smile as he threw his hand up in a wave and walked out. When he got to the squad car and saw Chelsea inside in a heap of misery, a wave of regret plowed into him.

He climbed in quietly. “Chels, what’s wrong?”

She laughed even as she sobbed. “You’re kidding, right?”

He had no clue how to kiss it and make it better these days. They were well beyond that stage.

Pitiful black-tinged tears spilled over her reddened cheeks.

“You broke the rules and wore mascara again.”

Without acknowledging him, she turned her back and huddled against the passenger door. “Get me out of here before someone sees me.”

He drove home slowly, missing his normally cheerful child. As they walked inside the empty house, he tried to put his arm around her shoulders and give her a quick squeeze. She jerked away from him and ran to her room, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows.

The ensuing silence roared in his ears. He couldn’t stand it, so he turned on the television. Which didn’t help much. One of the things he missed most about Tina was the way she’d filled the house with music. She either sang or played the radio all the time.

He looked around the living room. Same paint. Same furniture. Same books and photos. Everything arranged the way it had been the day she died.

But nothing was the same. Never would be again.

And now Chelsea was trying to grow up. He was in over his head and couldn’t see how he would manage.

He snapped off the TV and reached in the game cabinet. Maybe a friendly game of Chelsea’s favorite, Monopoly, would help smooth things over. He could call Fred to cover for him and take an hour off work.

He carried the game box to Chelsea’s room and knocked.

“Go away.”

“Come on, Chels. Open up for a sec.”

She unlocked the door but didn’t open it.

He went inside and found her sprawled sideways, face down, on the pink-draped canopy bed—her little-girl bed. The covers were all bunched up near her head as if she’d dived across the surface, scrunching them up as she slid.

He would not apologize for protecting her. She might not understand now, but she would someday when she had kids of her own. “Come on. Let’s play a round of Monopoly.”

“No.”

“I promise not to win.”

She sniffed. “You can’t promise that.”

“I promise not to put houses on my property.” She paused and he thought he had her.

“No, I need to work on my summer reading project.”

The paper she’d written two weeks earlier? “I thought you finished it.”

“I’ll check it over again.”

She wanted to check over a project that wasn’t due for three more weeks? Boy, he’d sure moved down on her list of fun people. “Okay. I’ll let you study.”

“You’ve got to work anyway.”

Why did she always say that as if he were committing a crime by holding down a job that provided for her? “I do have a split shift today. Gotta go back from seven to ten. But I can get Fred to cover for a little while.”

“So I’ve got Kristy coming over to stay with me?” Her sneer was no reflection on the babysitter.

“I know you want to stay alone. But not at night. Not yet.”

She swiped the back of her hand across her eyes, then sat up. “Well, if you won’t let me do that yet, the least you can do is let me go back to the café.”