18

Lillian rubbed the small of her back. “Joe was my last.”

“I’m done, too,” replied Margaret. “A lot of men with coughs tonight. It’ll only get worse as the weather gets colder.”

Someone cleared his throat from the doorway.

Lillian turned, expecting to see one of the homeless men. “Paul!” She hated the excited thrum of her heart.

He seemed to fill the opening, and now, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, he looked more handsome than she remembered. The reason she had avoided him for the past several weeks played in her mind. He was a cop. But it had been weeks since she had discovered the gas cans.

Apparently, whoever had planted them had moved on to other games.

“I got off duty an hour ago and stopped at the house. Trina said I could find you here.” His southern drawl flowed over her like thick molasses. He thrust a hand into the pocket of his jeans. “I wondered if you would like to stop for a cup of coffee before you go home.”

Her heart leaped. She wanted to say yes, but could she trust her emotions? Her attraction to him remained strong in spite of Roger’s words. He’s a policeman first and foremost.

“Paul, I really need to call it a night.” The words tasted bitter and clung to the back of her mouth. “Tomorrow is a work day, and—”

Margaret cleared her throat. “Ah…why not go for coffee? We finished early. It’s only a little after eight.”

She sent Margaret a scowling look. How could she refuse now without looking like a real jerk? Alright, she would go for coffee, but she would weigh every word that came out of her mouth. A thought wiggled into her mind. What if his real interest was not in her, but in seeking information? Two could play that game. At the end of the night, she would know as much as the police about the fires.

“All right, a quick cup of coffee.” She grabbed her purse and followed the smiling Paul to his truck, trying to convince herself her motivation was business, not pleasure. In spite of good intentions, contentment settled over her as she positioned herself in the seat of his vehicle. Being in his truck, being close beside him, felt like a comfortable pair of worn pajamas. Her dad always accused her of attracting the wrong crowd. She imagined his displeasure if he knew her companions included homeless men and a cop. A smile crept across her lips.

Paul drove around the square to C-Bones, one of the few local establishments that remained open after supper. She felt like a princess as he held the door open and led her to a table in the side room. Stucco walls and arched openings between the three dining areas lent the feel of the southwest, except it smelled slightly of fish.

“I’ve never been here before,” she said, sliding her chair beneath the oilcloth-draped table.

He put an arm across the back of the adjacent chair. “It’s just a small place, but the food is good.” He sought her eyes. “You should try it for supper sometime.”

The waitress, a young girl with long hair with too much body approached. “Hey, Paul. What can I get you tonight?” The pretty blonde eyed Lillian. “Do you want something besides coffee? Desert or anything?” She flicked her mane.

“Coffee’s fine.”

“Two coffees.” As she sauntered away, pad of paper in hand, she threw another look at Lillian over her shoulder.

The silence made Lillian squirm. Or maybe her discomfort related more to the man across the table. She caught a whiff of his cologne and inhaled deeply, pulling in his fragrance.

“You all right?” Paul’s brows were drawn together.

Heat flushed her face as she exhaled. “Sorry, just relaxing after the night’s work.” She smiled, hoping her explanation covered her embarrassment. Trying to appear casual, she placed her hands on the table.

His hand started to creep across the space.

She slipped the temptation to her lap, all the while wondering how it would feel to have her hand cradled in his.

“So how are you liking Darlington?”

“It’s a nice place. It feels like an old sweater.”

Paul laughed. “I’ve heard Darlington described a lot of ways, but ‘old sweater’ is a first.”

“You know what I mean.” Avoiding his gaze, she looked toward the window but the reflection of his face bounced back at her. She might as well be staring at the man himself. His good looks tugged at her heart as she settled into the warm comfort of simply being with him. It felt so right. Excited shivers ran up and down her spine. She tried to push the emotion out of her mind, after all, she couldn’t trust her feelings, but the giddiness remained. What was she doing here? He had the potential to destroy her life. Still, she basked under his soft gaze.

Two cups clanked on the table, the coffee sloshing into the heavy white saucers.

Paul took a long swallow. “I feel like I hardly get to see you anymore.”

“You see me on Friday nights at Ted and Trina’s.”

“Not lately.” His brows puckered. “Sometimes you and Roger don’t show up.”

Those eyes again. So blue. So caring…unless he was probing.

She had forgotten the real reason she had come for coffee with him in the first place. Her eyes narrowed. She had told Trina not only about the fire that destroyed her family, but also about her history with matches. What if Trina had shared this with Paul? What if he already knew about her past and this pleasant drop-by visit had a deeper hidden agenda than even she first imagined? The coffee soured in her stomach. Could Paul be this deceitful? The thrilling tingle turned to daggers of ice, and she gripped the coffee cup for its warmth.

“When are you headed back to Cleveland for the holidays?” His question interrupted her thoughts before she could develop an escape plan. One thing seemed certain. Paul Studler was trying to hook the fish.

“I’m not going home.” The words scraped against her dry throat. “I was just there for Thanksgiving.” No need to add frustration with her family on top of her other sins or paint her any darker than she believed he already had. “My parents are headed to the Bahamas, and my sister has to work over the holidays.”

No one would be in Cleveland for her, and she had no desire to accompany her parents on vacation or sit alone in Beth’s Chicago apartment. Looking across the table at Officer Studler, she wondered if Christmas in Darlington would be any better.

His face brightened. “So you’ll be at Ted and Trina’s?”

“If they’ll let me stay.” His eyes reminded her of those belonging to the neighbor’s beagle puppy, all warm and mushy. “I really need to be looking for a different place to live.”

He laughed. “They love you. There won’t be any problem letting you stay. I think your bigger problem will be getting them to let you go.”

The waitress returned with refills.

Conversation lagged.

“So how is the police investigation coming for the fires?” She lowered her eyes, watching the soft swirl of steam lift from her cup and float toward the door, which was where she should be headed if she had any sense.

Paul sighed. “We have a few clues.”

In spite of the easy way he said the words, her jaw tightened. Would those clues involve her and her history of fire setting? Acid pushed its way up her throat. “So can we expect an arrest soon?”

“The law’s complicated, Lillian. You know that from your work as an attorney. But the pieces of the puzzle are coming together.”

She forced a smile.

“Lillian.” His eyes remained soft, but his mouth hardened. “I know you’ve been spending time with Roger, but I want you to be careful when you’re with him.”

Her breath stuck in her throat. This was the last thing she had expected to hear. Was his motivation jealousy? “Careful around Roger? Why?”

He rubbed his shoulder. “Just be alert, OK. And if you ever need me, all you have to do is call.”

Torn between anger over implying Roger was dangerous, and loving Paul for his concern, she sat with her mouth half open. Paul, the caretaker of women. Then the laugh erupted, nervous and harsh. “You’re acting as if you’re my dad when I was about to go on my first date. Do you know something about Roger that I don’t?” Her heart thudded in her throat as he glanced at his half-empty cup. Had she gotten Roger in trouble for hiding the gas cans? He had never told her what he had done with them. What if someone saw him and reported it to the police?

Paul stared at her long before answering. “He just feels wrong to me.”

She spit out a brittle laugh. “I promise, Dad, I’ll be a good girl and never get myself into situations you wouldn’t approve of.”

Paul grimaced. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. How about supper tomorrow night to make it up to you?”

“I’m sorry Paul. I can’t.”

“A rain check then?”

She focused on the table, wishing Margaret were here to force her to say yes. “I’ll think about it.”

~*~

Bill leaned against the stainless steel sinks, dishcloth in his hand.

Sandra turned off the large overhead exhaust fans that helped to keep the heat and humidity tolerable in the confined space.

The swish of mops in the dining room soon stopped, replaced by the clang of metal handles on mop buckets. Half a dozen workers, mostly the older crew, lingered in the kitchen as the last of the men to be sheltered wandered toward the sleeping quarters.

Lillian had asked him once about the men. There were the faithful few, but new faces appeared every week. Some even came a second time before they disappeared. She had asked him where they went, and he had no answer for her. Recently, he felt as much adrift as the men he served. He grabbed a paper towel and wiped the sweat off his face. “Any more dishes lying around?”

“I think that’s it,” Sandra said. “Time to head home.” She looked around at the volunteers. “A big thanks to y’all for helping out.”

“Our pleasure.” A man removed his white burlap apron. “It makes me appreciate what I have.”

“I never knew there were so many homeless men in Darlington,” replied a woman about mid-thirties. “I never see them on the streets.”

“They’re called the invisible population for a reason,” Bill stated. “We don’t notice them so we don’t have to do anything about them, or more often because they blend in to the environment.”

“Do you always have a sermon after the meal?” the woman asked.

“Almost always. The local pastors volunteer, and some of the local men take turns too. It isn’t hard to find someone to share their faith.” Bill grunted. “What’s hard is coming up with something that’s relevant. Words don’t mean much to these men.”

“That’s why our presence is so important,” Sandra added. “We’re as much the gospel to them as the words from the pastor.”

“More, I would say,” Bill added.

“Well, I’ll come back again, next time our church volunteers,” the woman said.

Sandra gave her a hug. “We appreciate it.”

As the volunteers headed out the back door to the parking lot, Bill switched off the kitchen lights. “Everyone done in the clinic?”

“I’ll go check, and get the lights back there. Meet you in the parking lot.” Sandra walked down the hall, her hips swaying slightly with each step.

Bill stared after her. He had delayed going back to Ohio at the end of the summer so he would be around to help when Trina delivered his soon-to-be grandchild. But there had been more to his decision.

Sandra tugged at his heart. Nancy had been dead over fifteen years now, but still the feeling of being unfaithful remained. He wanted a wife, had prayed for a mother for Trina, but he wondered if he could really love another woman as he had loved Nancy. And if he couldn’t, cultivating a relationship when he doubted the strength of his love was wrong. And yet, he looked forward to being with Sandra. She had become entwined in his life, as had little Jimmy.

And now he couldn’t leave if he wanted to.

So far Lillian seemed to be exactly what she said—a Midwestern woman with a tragic past.

But fear put him on alert when around her. Sometimes strong, other times not so much. He had tried to analyze the feelings of danger to determine a pattern, but there didn’t seem to be any. Sometimes when she was gone, the sensation of imminent danger almost bent him over. Other times the feeling hit when she was present, like at the Friday night meals. Never when just the two of them were together. And the Ohio house created another complication. When had his simple life become so complex? He scratched his head as he walked toward the car.

Light escaped from the windows in the back of the building and created puddles in the dark parking lot.

Sandra exited the side door and checked to make sure it locked behind her.

A smile creased Bill’s face. Sandra, always the cautious one. Who would want to break into a building of homeless men? He held the car door for her.

Companionable silence accompanied them as they drove the short distance to her house. That was one of the things he loved about her—no need to constantly chat about nothing.

“Want to come in for awhile?” she asked as he turned the car into her drive. “Jimmy’s spending the night with Trina again. I hope he isn’t too much for her right now. She doesn’t have to keep him, you know.”

“Trina loves it. The two of them have a special connection.”

Sandra placed her hand in his as they walked toward the house. He wrapped his fingers around hers. Soft, but not too soft. Warm. And comforting. Too soon, they were in the kitchen, where she pulled her hand from his to flip on the light. Heading to the sink, she began filling the coffee pot.

“I just don’t want caring for Jimmy to become too much for her. He can be a handful.”

“She’ll be fine.” Bill settled in a chair at the kitchen table and thrummed his fingers on the wood. “The realtor called me again today.”

She shut off the water and turned toward him. “Does he still want to cut the price on your house?”

He rubbed his jaw. “Yeah. Betsy says I have it priced too high, too. But it seems the place ought to be worth more.” He watched as Sandra opened the plastic storage container and measured out the grounds. He always liked the smell of fresh coffee. Made any place feel home-like. Not like that sweet tea southerners liked.

“You should trust your sister’s judgment, Bill.”

“I know. I have to give it some thought.” It was proving hard to sell the place. The house represented his last connection to Nancy, and it was where he had raised Trina. What if he decided to go back to Ohio? Had he really made up his mind to stay in the south forever?

The coffee finished and Sandra poured two mugs and sat across from him. He sipped and watched as Sandra poured just the right dab of milk into her cup, and added one level teaspoon of sugar. Very precise, very sure of what she wanted. A woman who knew her mind. He liked that about her.

“The exterminator came today. He killed most of the ants, but the tree is rotted and needs to come down. I’ll call and check on the cost of having it taken out.”

“Ted and I might be able to do it. There are ladders and ropes out in the garage. I might be able to scrounge up some extra help at work.”

“Some of the guys at church might be willing to help.”

“Let me check into it before you go and hire someone. All we need is a bigger chain saw.”

The wind swirled outside. Dry leaves, oak and magnolia, brushed against the house. This would be his first winter in the south. Trees didn’t shed leaves in South Carolina like Ohio: maples, all done and over within a week or two. These southern leaves dribbled off a few at a time. It kept him busy raking here and Trina’s. And the flowers he and Sandra had planted were still blooming. Who would have thought? Flowers in December?

Lillian had commented about that back in October.

“I saw Paul come in right before we closed.” Sandra’s voice was laced with question marks.

“Yeah, he wanted to take Lillian out for coffee. Asked me where she was.” He sipped his coffee, enjoying the hot burn. “So what do you think she’s up to?”

“Bill, you need to give this up.”

He ran a hand across the top of his head. “I just can’t. God keeps sending me these signals. I ignored them when Jimmy was missing. I won’t ignore them again. Something is wrong.”

“But remember, Bill, you misinterpreted God’s message with Jimmy. Isn’t it possible you’re getting this wrong too?”

He drew his brows together. “I just don’t know. Danger surrounds her. That much I’m sure of.” Lillian meant danger, but right now, at this very second, he was where he wanted to be, and the comfort lulled him.

“Do you ever regret moving?” Sandra asked. Her expression looked dreamy. A soft smile, Madonna-like, shaped her lips.

“No, I don’t regret being here. Trina needs me, and I was fortunate enough to get the teaching job. I hate leaving Betsy alone in Ohio, but she has her friends and really doesn’t need me.” He stared at Sandra. She was so beautiful, just what he had always prayed for: a Christian wife who loved Trina as her own. But there was no way he could ever love another woman like he loved Nancy, not even Sandra, and the thought settled heavy in his heart. “I’d better get home. It’s off to work tomorrow.” He leaned over and kissed Sandra on the cheek before letting himself out the kitchen door.

The temperature had dropped, and he shivered in his cotton shirt. Clouds covered the stars that surely were shining overhead, just as they always did. His heart should have been filled with joy. He had a baby coming soon, his first grandchild. But he knew the reason for his despondency: Sandra deserved to know that there would never be more between them than friendship. She should be free to accept other relationships if she wanted. He needed to tell her, but the time never seemed right. The longer he put it off, the harder it became. But he needed to do it before Trina’s baby came. Not only did he have to worry about breaking Sandra’s heart, but he also had to figure out what was going on with Lillian. The feeling of danger was getting stronger as time went on. One challenge felt weighty enough, but his back bent with responsibilities.

Could he battle whatever loomed ahead?