Glynna Kaye - Dreaming of Home

“Don’t worry, Sharon.” She turned away to straighten a sunglasses display. “Men in general—and married men in particular—hold little interest for me.”

“Joe’s not married. Widower.”

Meg cringed and gave the display rack a slow spin. No wonder Davy looked confused when she referred to his mother. Or why his father immediately toted him far, far away from the blundering Sunday school assistant.

Usually, she took precautions with parental references at school. No one came from an intact mom-pop-and-two-point-five-kids home anymore. She could blame her change in meds or the distraction of Joe Diaz’s dazzling smile all she wanted, but it was her own insensitive mess-up. She’d apologize at the first opportunity.

She stooped to pick up an empty T-shirt box.

“I’m surprised he’s still on the market,” the older woman continued as she made her way slowly across the room, sneakers peeping from beneath turquoise velour sweatpants. “Good lookin’ guy like that, you know? Too bad my Kara’s not in town anymore. She had a crush on him when she was in junior high. Probably still does. She tell you about that?”

Kara was Meg’s best friend from college and one of the reasons she’d arrived in the somewhat remote Canyon Springs in the first place. Ironically, Kara sounded the bugle to charge into the world at the very moment Meg called retreat.

“She never mentioned him.” No doubt she’d remember her friend talking about a man whose smile could take your breath away and send your heart kicking into overdrive.

“Then she still has a crush on him,” her mother concluded with a nod, “even though he hasn’t been around these parts since high school. Took off for college, then the Navy. But just as well she’s not here. He won’t be for long either.”

“I don’t know about that.” Meg stripped the seam tape from the cardboard box in her hands, wadded it and tossed it in a nearby trash can. “It sounded like he plans to stay awhile. He’s applying for a teaching job.”

“Around here? In his dreams. Look at how long you’ve waited.”

Meg dropped the box to the floor and flattened it with her foot. “A science teaching job.”

Sharon’s eyes widened and she clasped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” Meg gave the box another stomp. “Ben Cameron, his old principal, has apparently told him he’s just the man for the job.”

“Can he do that? Doesn’t the board or somebody have to approve it?”

Meg shrugged. “Davy’s dad—Joe—thinks God’s opening a window.”

Sharon scoffed. “Pooh. I have it from a good source—Joe’s dad—that Joe hasn’t graced a church door since his wife died. What’s he know about God opening any windows?”

“You don’t always have to be sitting in the front row pew for God to hear you,” Meg said. “Or for you to hear from God. And for some people, church is the hardest place to go when they’ve suffered the loss of a loved one.”

Sharon scoffed again and eyed Meg. “I hope you told Joe you have a prior claim to the job. Need it more than he does.”

Her heart lurched. “Of course I didn’t.”

Sharon eased the walker closer. “Doll, you can’t let him come in and roll right over you. As I recall, that boy’s used to calling the shots and getting his own way. This will be no different if you don’t take a stand.”

“I’m not going to make a play for the sympathy vote.” Meg’s lips tightened. She’d decided that right from the beginning and she wasn’t backing down now. The job was either God’s will or it wasn’t. Manipulation on her part wasn’t going to play a role in the outcome.

Sharon’s expression softened as she laid a hand on Meg’s arm. “So what are you going to do?”

“Not much I can do, Sharon.” She swallowed as she placed the flattened box on the checkout counter. “Or that I intend to do.”

“As the saying goes, you can’t expect God to steer a parked car. March yourself down to the school and talk some sense into that principal.” Sharon’s brows slanted into a dangerous-looking V. “Or I will. He’s a blustery old bag of wind, but he doesn’t intimidate me.”

Meg’s cold fingers clenched at her sides. She’d thought Sharon could be trusted not to say anything about her situation. “Please don’t.”

“Ben knows better than to think Sailor Boy will anchor himself to dry land long enough to fill a teaching slot for more than a semester.” She held up a couple of fingers. “Two at the most.”

Meg’s lips trembled. “Maybe Ben doesn’t think I’m long-term either.”

Her subdued tone echoed with an ominous ring as her mind flew to her friend Penny, now lying in a Phoenix hospital bed. No, life didn’t always turn out the way you’d dreamed it would.

“Oh, honey.” Sharon’s round, determined face crumpled as she leaned in for a gentle bear hug over the top of her walker. “He knows nothing about that, and I’m not going to say a word. I don’t agree with your thinking, but I promised, didn’t I? So I don’t want to hear you talking like that.”

Meg mustered a shaky half smile as the woman released her. “Nevertheless, you have to admit the RV does scream temporary resident.”

“Don’t you worry. You’re going to get that job and buy yourself that nice little house you have your eye on.” Sharon reached out to clasp Meg’s hand, her voice more gruff than usual. “You’re going to have a bright future. Right here if you want it. And don’t you dare start thinking otherwise.”

Gripping his son’s hand, Joe led Davy across the black-topped road a few blocks down the street from the stone-fronted Dix’s Woodland Warehouse. They located the dirt trail shortcut through towering ponderosa pines and headed on the three-quarter-mile hike homeward, home temporarily being Joe’s father’s place at the Lazy D Campground and RV Park.

The boy tugged on his dad’s hand and, as always, the tiny one engulfed in his own swelled Joe’s heart with an overwhelming love and sense of responsibility. How could he have stayed away from his son so long?

“Dad?”

Joe felt little fingers dancing in his palm as he glanced down at the hope-filled face staring up at him. Davy looked like his mother when his eyes got big and solemn like that.

“Can we have Miss Meg over for pirate food tonight?”

He hadn’t seen that one coming. “I…don’t think so, bud.”

“How come?”

“Because…” Because he didn’t need any distractions right now. Especially not a pretty, petite distraction. One with gentle, laughing eyes and a smattering of freckles over her pert nose. A winsome smile that made you want to hang out and talk a while longer. No. No distractions of that variety. Never again. Or at least not for a good long while.

Shaking away a mental image of the perky brunette shopkeeper, Joe banished a lingering smile. His boy came first now.

Davy slowed, scuffing his feet through the dry, brown pine needles. “Because why?”

“Because I don’t think we have enough pirate food for all of us.”

There, that was easy enough.

Davy perked up. “I’ll eat only one fish stick.”

“You like her that much?” Joe playfully jiggled his son’s hand, remembering the delight reflected in the pretty woman’s eyes when Davy stepped from behind the postcard rack. And the teasing smile she’d leveled in his own direction when she discovered a pirate crouched on the floor of the shop. “I think she likes you, too.”

The boy ducked his head.

“Is that a blush?” Joe tugged Davy close and ruffled his hair. He needed a haircut, but Davy’s grandma said all the boys were wearing it that long now. That was one battle he’d put on hold.