Forever in my heart, p.1
Forever in My Heart, page 1
part #2 of Montana Skies Series
Forever in My Heart
Linda Ford
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Everlasting Love sneak peek
Also by Linda Ford
1
“There’s good news, and there’s bad news.”
Laureen Baker knew it was unrealistic to think all the news would be good. During her three-week holiday, something was bound to have gone wrong, if not with the kids or the relatives, then certainly with the hot-water tank. Laureen hated to borrow trouble, but she might as well have all the facts. She glanced around the bedroom-turned-office, her eyes narrowing as if she’d discover in the numerous photos and children’s drawings hung on the wall hidden messages to reveal the happenings of the past three weeks.
“Give me the good news first,” she said.
Marj Carnes, her capable assistant who had been giving the report, looked up. “We have a new neighbor.”
What did that crooked grin of Marj’s mean? “A friendly grandma figure, I hope.”
Marj grimaced. “He’s male and not the least bit friendly. The bad news is we’ve been warned to keep the kids out of his territory. And his yard is full of enticements—tools, lumber, all sorts of things to make little boys want to take a look.”
“Great.” Laureen glanced toward the door. “Speaking of which—where are the boys?” Her anxiety mounting, she hurried down the hall and out to the lawn.
The warm sun and sparkling sky did nothing to ease her tension. The worn lawn, one corner piled high with toys, was empty and quiet. Her first day back and already—
“Michael! Davey!” she called. “Kyler? Where are you?”
The silence echoed around her; then a scuffling sound drew her gaze to the fence separating them from their neighbor. One board leaned crookedly. She hurried to the scraggly tree huddled against the edge of the yard and saw behind it the gap in the fence. Just big enough to allow the boys to escape.
“Great,” she muttered. “Just great.” The previous neighbors had been an older couple who both worked during the day. They’d been tolerant of the noise and occasional intrusion of the boys who lived at the Barnabas Christian Home, affectionately known as the Barney House. But now they had a grumpy old man next door who, according to Marj, had made it understood he wouldn’t be quite so accommodating.
She stood on tiptoe to peer across the fence, but all she saw was the cement-pad patio, an umbrella-sheltered table, two green lawn chairs and an uncluttered yard.
No little boys.
She looked toward the back gate in their yard then gave another long considering look at the hole in the fence. Why not? It would be quicker than going around, and it wasn’t as if she’d be setting a bad example.
Yeah, she thought, already knowing what route she would choose.
Pushing aside the leafy branches of the stunted maple tree and leaning the board farther out of place to make room for her wider body, she dropped to her knees and wormed her way through the narrow opening.
Her legs still in her own yard, her head and shoulders trespassing in the next, she glanced around and caught the flash of a yellow T-shirt and blue denim shorts ducking around the corner of the garage.
“Boys,” she hissed. “Get back here.”
She heard shuffling and Michael telling someone to be quiet.
“You’re going to get us all into a pile of trouble,” she whispered harshly, hoping they would hear and choose to help her out.
Nothing. Even the whispering and shuffling stopped. Ominous quiet. What were they up to? No good, she could guarantee. If she hoped to maintain peace with the new neighbor she better get them back ASAP. That left her with no choice but to go get them and march them home.
She eased her arms forward and pulled. And came to a sharp halt as her hip bones ground into the boards. She wriggled and grunted, but she was stuck in a boy-width opening that was inches too narrow for a grownup-sized body. She flipped to her side to make herself narrower. Keeping her head down and closing her eyes, she groaned and wormed forward, her attention focused on working her lower half through the fence.
Safely through, she lay there for a moment, catching her breath. At least her undignified passage had not been witnessed.
She opened her eyes.
And saw a pair of boots, inches from her nose. A gasp steamed across her teeth. She closed her eyes. Please, God, let this be my imagination. But when she peeked through her eyelashes, they were still there. Dark brown work boots. Scuffed and stained with black. Steel-toed and hard enough looking to be real.
Now would be a good time for the ground to open up and swallow her.
Certain she looked like a beached whale wallowing on the lawn, she swallowed hard and edged backward, praying she could slide back through the opening with more ease and grace than she had coming forward.
“You might as well get up,” a deep, annoyed voice said.
Laureen took a long breath and lifted her head. Slowly she dragged her gaze upward. From her awkward viewpoint the legs seemed very long. The crossed forearms proclaimed annoyance. She registered the muscled shoulders. Their set didn’t look welcoming, either.
By the time she could see his face, her neck muscles were stretched like a curious owl and her cheeks burned. She hadn’t felt so conspicuously awkward since grade seven when she’d fallen flat on her face crossing the stage before an auditorium full of people.
What happened to the old man who lives here? she wondered wildly.
This man was young and strong and. . . . She tried to swallow, but her clumsy position made it impossible so she settled for a grimace.
He had dark brown eyes that stared boldly—challengingly. A hint of gold caught along the edges of his brown hair backlit by warm sunshine. Deep creases lined his cheeks. She felt certain they would deepen into beguiling grooves when he smiled.
Which he wasn’t likely to do given the invasion of his yard by three little boys and a scuttled whale.
Laureen scooted to her knees then scrambled to her feet. She dusted her jeans and smoothed her hair and concentrated on wiping a few blades of grass from her elbow. Anything for an excuse to avoid looking at the man.
Even though he stood motionless and quiet, his stance and unmoving body shouted annoyance.
She tried not to cringe as she faced him. No point in letting him know how ungraceful and embarrassed she felt. She met his dark, steady look and felt exposed. The feeling deepened as his expression remained impassive, his lips set in a so-let’s-hear-your-excuse line.
Laureen scrubbed her palms against her sides and bit the corner of her mouth. “I–I—” She clamped her teeth together then tried again. “You—”
The man’s expression was anything but welcoming. If only he would say something. Like maybe “How nice to meet you.” Or “That was quite a feat, crawling through that tiny opening in the fence.” But, no, he regarded her as if he’d found a snake in his grass.
“It was quicker—” She waved toward the hole in the fence. “I wanted—”
What had she wanted? She couldn’t remember. Oh, yes, Michael, Davey, and Kyler.
“The boys—” She glanced past him. Where were they? Sanity returned. “I’m sorry. When I saw the boys had gone through the hole, I thought—” What did it matter that she’d hoped to avoid annoying the new neighbor? It was quite apparent she’d failed.
Forcing aside her discomfort, she introduced herself. “Laureen Baker, supervisor of the Barnabas Home. How do you do?” She held out her hand, half expecting him to ignore it, but he slowly uncurled his arms and grasped her hand. She was alarmed to note her fingers trembled. His hand was warm and firm—the hand of a working man. As if she needed to shake hands with him to know that. From his boots to the width of his shoulders—trademarks of a man familiar with physical labor—he reeked of strength and power.
“Pete Long,” he said. Again that slow, lazy, deep voice. She could almost feel it vibrating in her chest. She’d always been a sucker for a deep, melodious voice. “I think that’s what you’re looking for.”
She jerked around to follow the direction of his nod.
Three boys stood side by side, looking deceptively innocent.
“Boys, you know you aren’t allowed over here.”
Michael, the oldest at seven, held out a red-and-blue-striped ball. “We had to get our ball.”
She nodded. Whether it had landed in the yard accidentally or not was beside the point. “Next time come and tell me first. That way we can get Mr. Long’s permission. Now let’s go home and leave the man alone.” Hurrying toward the boys, she touched them on the shoulders and gently turned them about.
A voice rumbled behind her. “Try using the gate this time.”
“Of course,” she muttered, embarrassment burning the tips of her ears. As if she made a habit of crawling through fences. At the gate she paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Sorry for the intrusion. It won’t happen again.” She chose to look at the fence rather than meet his gaze again.
“I hope not. This place is off limits.”
She gritted her teeth. He might as well have uttered a dare to the boys. Knowing something was forbidden only made it more enticing. It would keep her on her toes to make sure they stayed safely in their own yard.
She let her breath out slowly and pulled her emotions under control. It didn’t pay to let things get under her skin. That only served to make her less effective in dealing with the kids. After all, it wasn’t their fault she’d been caught in such an awkward position.
She marched the boys down the alley, into their own backyard, and up the steps into the house.
She lined them up and leaned over to face them on their own level. “Boys,” she began, “Mr. Long does not want you in his yard. It’s dangerous over there. Understand?”
Michael nodded, his expression rebellious.
His brother, six-year-old Davey, gave her an innocent look she knew all too well could be very deceiving.
And Kyler, almost six, his curly light brown hair and blue eyes such a contrast to the darkness of the other two, met her gaze with wide-eyed silence.
She sighed and ruffled his hair. What went on in that little head? Kyler hadn’t said a word in two years. Not since the authorities had found him crouched beside the body of his mother. Another fatal overdose from a batch of crack packing an unusually large wallop.
She straightened. “Go on out and play.”
As they raced outside, she watched them thoughtfully. She had her task set out before her with these three.
Michael and Davey had been in the home three months. Their lives had been a series of moves as their mother went from relationship to relationship, sometimes taking the boys, sometimes leaving them with friends or relatives. They’d been in and out of foster care, often separated from each other as well as from their mother. Small wonder they acted out. Since their arrival at the Barney House, there had been significant improvement in their behavior, although Michael still had an anger problem while Davey chose to retreat behind a blank stare.
The administrators of the home had tried in vain to locate their mother. Until they did it was a matter of wait-and-see until the future could be decided for the pair.
It was a situation Laureen found herself impatient with. Her goal was always to see these kids helped with their problems and placed permanently as soon as possible. Her fervent prayer was God would aid them in locating the boys’ mother so permanency plans could be made.
Kyler, on the other hand, had been with them almost since he’d been found. In that time he’d had extensive counseling and was the recipient of much prayer. A young couple, cousins of his mother, had agreed to adopt him when he was ready. They wanted to see him talking before they took him home. The staff, for the most part, agreed.
Laureen sighed. Part of her agreed; she longed for the day he would open up to them. But part of her wondered if it wasn’t Kyler’s defense against further pain. He was smart enough to know the home wasn’t permanent. Maybe not talking was his way of letting them know he didn’t want to get attached to someone only to have them taken from his life.
For a few minutes she watched the boys play. Kyler had retreated to the sandbox in the corner with a heap of little cars and trucks. Patiently he pushed them back and forth in the sand. The other two were chasing the red and blue ball back and forth across the yard.
They paused close to Pete Long’s fence and studied it. Don’t do it, she warned silently. They glanced toward the house, saw her watching, and resumed playing.
Forbidden territory, she thought, seems all the more appealing. If only Pete Long hadn’t unknowingly uttered a challenge.
She tapped her chin. Too bad he hadn’t been a little more welcoming. It would have taken away the allure.
She thought again of those strong hands, the dark eyes. What would he look like if he smiled? She pictured deep creases in his cheeks.
Suddenly she realized she was as bad as the boys, wondering about forbidden territory. She had no intention of letting anything deflect her from her purpose of seeing these boys, and the ones who would follow, given a chance at life.
“No more of this,” she muttered, pushing away from the window. She didn’t need any complications in her life or any distractions from her work.
“All done?” Marj asked as Laureen left the office a couple of hours later.
Laureen straightened from locking the door behind her and brushed her brow with an exaggerated sweep of her arm. “Is the paperwork ever done? Hey, those cookies smell good.”
Marj scooped several hot cookies off the baking sheet to a plate. “Marj’s famous chocolate chip cookies. Sit down. I’ll get us some coffee.”
“Just what I need—the coffee, not the cookies.” She eyed the steaming cookies. “ ’Course I could use some chocolate, too. Good for what ails me.”
“And that would be?”
Laureen shrugged. “Just a figure of speech. Actually, I’m glad to be back. I missed the boys.”
“I wondered if you’d come in before you were due back. But not even a phone call.” Marj laughed. “I’m impressed.”
“Hey. I was on holiday.” She wasn't about to give Marj a chance to gloat by admitting how often she’d reached for the phone to check on things at the home. She studied her co-worker. Plump and homey looking—it was Marj who provided the mother figure in the place.
“So you really got a chance to relax?”
Laureen stretched like a cat waking from a long nap. “After a week of helping my parents clean their garage and attic, I spent the rest of my holiday at the lake. My brothers and their families were there for most of a week, and then I had the rest of the time to do nothing but veg.”
Marj studied her with narrowed eyes. “I’m trying to picture it.”
Laureen avoided her gaze. “I did some reading. Swam and lay about.”
“Um hum. Read the latest bestsellers, did you?”
“Umm.” Bestsellers had no appeal. She’d spent the time reading psychology texts and studying a couple of childcare models. Something she wasn’t about to admit to her co-worker just yet.
“You might fool some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time, but you don’t fool me.” The older woman slid another tray of cookies into the oven and poured herself a mug of coffee before sitting across from Laureen. “So what do you have there?” She nodded at the thick file Laureen had dropped on the table.
“Let’s call the boys for milk and cookies; then I’ll show you.” If she admitted she’d spent hours evaluating case plans for each of the boys, Marj would crow with triumph. Laureen was anxious to present her ideas, but she welcomed a delay, hoping it would give Marj a chance to forget this conversation.
At Laureen’s call the boys raced in, all arms and legs, Michael and Davey chattering like a pair of magpies, Kyler smiling and nodding.
Laureen hugged each boy as he passed, breathing in the scent of hot, dusty bodies. She held each of them a bit longer than usual until they wriggled away. This was where she belonged—loving these kids, helping them conquer their pasts, preparing them to meet their futures. She blinked back a tear and sniffed as she straightened.
Marj smiled. “It’s good to have you back.”
Laureen nodded. “It’s good to be back.” There was no place like home—especially this home. And there wasn’t a better place to plant such a home than right here in Freetown, Montana. Small town feel, supportive community, pleasant surroundings. A place where kids could feel safe and learn to trust again.
Not quite as supportive as it had been, she amended, remembering the man next door. She wondered if having Pete as a neighbor was going to make small-town Montana just a little less trouble-free than it had been. Determinedly she pushed the idea away and went to the fridge. She was worrying over nothing. After all, how hard would it be to keep the boys away from him?
Plenty hard, she knew, if they got it in their cute little heads to see what was so all-fired important over there that Pete warned them away. On the other hand there was no point in borrowing trouble. As if she needed to. There was always lots of it around this place.
She poured each boy a glass of milk and passed the cookies. She gave Michael and Davey a big hug when they said “please” and “thank you” without being prompted. And when Kyler made a noise indicating his pleasure and gratitude, she cheered. It might be a long way from a normal six-year-old response, but, compared to the stoically silent boy who had first entered the home, these fledgling attempts at verbal communication were a tremendous improvement.
