Kathryn Springer - Love Finds a Home

Single-parent families.

There it was. No matter how hard she tried to be both mom and dad to Jeremy—to meet all his needs—their home fell into that category. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t had a choice. That Brian’s death had pushed them there.

“I doubt that Jeremy would be interested. He’s very shy and wouldn’t be comfortable meeting with someone he doesn’t know.” And neither would I, Emma added silently.

Pastor Wilde cleared his throat. “Ah, Jeremy is interested, Mrs. Barlow. In fact, he turned in a registration form already.”

The phone almost slipped through Emma’s fingers. “Are you sure it was Jeremy? Maybe it was his Sunday school teacher. Or another adult.”

Emma heard the sound of papers rustling.

“I’m, ah, looking at his signature right now.”

She released a quiet breath, unwilling to believe that Jeremy had signed up on his own. One of the older boys must have decided to play a practical joke on her introverted son. It wouldn’t be the first time. “I’ll talk to Jeremy. Thank you for calling.”

“Mrs. Barlow?” Pastor Wilde must have sensed she was about to hang up. “Attending the picnic on Saturday doesn’t mean Jeremy is obligated to join the program. Abby Porter offered to host the picnic at Mirror Lake Lodge and there will be an informal question-and-answer time after lunch.

“I should add that I’ve personally met with all the prospective mentors and they’ve had extensive background checks done. It’s a blessing we’ve got men who are willing to donate their time and energy to be positive role models.”

Positive role models to boys without fathers.

“It sounds like a good idea,” Emma murmured.

For someone else’s child.

She couldn’t imagine letting Jeremy spend time with someone she didn’t know, background check or not.

“Then we’ll see you and Jeremy on Saturday?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Emma hung up the phone. At least she hadn’t lied. She did think about it.

And the answer was no.

Why had she said yes?

Emma took one look at the people milling around the immaculate, beautifully landscaped lawn and almost turned the car around.

She glanced at Jeremy, who was already wrestling his seat belt off. Her son’s eager expression answered the question.

After that disturbing phone call from Pastor Wilde, Emma had waited until dinnertime to bring up the subject of the mentoring ministry, still convinced there had been a mistake—that someone else had turned in the registration form with her son’s name on it.

Jeremy’s whoop of excitement, however, had immediately proved Emma’s theory wrong. She hadn’t been prepared for his enthusiasm when he learned about the pastor’s invitation to the picnic…or his reaction when she told him they wouldn’t be able to go.

Emma winced at the memory.

He’d been crushed.

So Emma had explained—quite patiently she’d thought—the reasons why she didn’t think that being involved in the mentoring program was a good idea.

Jeremy had listened. And then her quiet, sensitive little boy had leaned forward, looked her straight in the eye and suggested a compromise.

A compromise!

“Mom, you’re always telling me that it isn’t a good idea to jump to conclusions, right? That a person should do some research before making a decision. I think we should go to the picnic and find out the facts. If you decide you don’t want me to do it, then I’ll be okay with that.”

How could she argue? Especially since it was obvious which member of the Barlow family was guilty of “jumping to conclusions” this time!

The request was fair. Reasonable. But now, watching a group of preadolescent boys zigzag across the lawn in hot pursuit of the one carrying a football, Emma was convinced she’d made a mistake.

“Jeremy—” The car door snapped the sentence in half.

Tension curled in Emma’s stomach.

There was no turning back now. Not only had Jeremy escaped, but Abby Porter had spotted their car and was making her way across the yard.

Somehow, the innkeeper managed to look stunning in faded jeans and a pale green T-shirt that matched her eyes. With her blond hair pulled back in a casual knot and a colorful apron tied around her waist, Abby looked far different from the sophisticated woman in velvet and pearls who had appeared in the ad campaigns for her family’s elite hotel chain in years past.

Emma, who’d chosen to wear a navy twill skirt and white blouse, felt positively dowdy by comparison.

“Emma!” Abby appeared at the window. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Emma wished she could say the same. She slid out of the driver’s seat, resisting the urge to dive back inside the vehicle. Abby immediately linked arms with her, almost as if the other woman had read her mind.

“The turnout this afternoon is higher than we expected.” Abby smiled. “I’m glad Pastor Wilde and Harold Davis realized there was a need for something like this in our community.”

The need for boys to have male role models in their lives.

The reminder scraped against Emma’s soul. She was doing her best to raise Jeremy. He was all she had left in the world. After Brian’s death, her son’s presence had warmed her heart like a tiny flame, keeping her emotions from growing cold. Over the years, Emma had tried to make sure Jeremy didn’t feel as if he were missing out on something, and yet now he wanted to spend time with a mentor. A stranger.

“I’m not sure it’s the right thing for Jeremy,” Emma said stiffly. She didn’t want to offend Abby but she needed to make it clear that she hadn’t made a decision whether or not he could join the program.

“Then I’m glad you came to check it out.” Abby didn’t look the least bit ruffled by her honesty. “And I’ve been hoping for a chance to talk to you. One of my guests asked for your business card last weekend.”

“I don’t have a business card,” Emma murmured, trying to keep track of Jeremy as he bounded ahead of them.

Abby gave her a playful nudge. “I know you don’t, silly. That was a hint.”

“The number for the library is in the phone book.”

Abby’s laughter caused several heads to swivel in their direction. “You’re so funny, Emma. And humble, too. I’m not talking about the library. Gloria Rogers saw the mosaic table in my perennial garden and she couldn’t stop raving about it. Of course—” Abby’s smile turned impish “—I might have mentioned that even though Mirror Lake Lodge has an exclusive contract with the extremely gifted artist who crafted the piece, you might be persuaded to take on more commissions.”

“Abby!” Emma didn’t bother to hide her shock. “It’s a hobby, something to pass the time. It’s not a business. I already have a job.”

Abby looked smug rather than repentant. “That’s exactly what I thought when I was sneaking into the hotel kitchen at midnight to make raspberry lemon tarts.” She made a sweeping gesture with one arm that encompassed the refurbished lodge and cabins. “Look where that ‘little hobby’ took me.”

But, Emma wanted to argue, that was different. Raspberry lemon tarts were meant to be shared. The mosaics she created had sprung from a need to fill long hours and hold painful memories at bay. And like her grief, she’d tried to keep that part of her life private. But in a town as small as Mirror Lake, word had gotten out.

“You can’t compare what we do,” Emma murmured. “You have a business degree. Experience. I don’t have any formal training.”

“You have a gift.” Abby’s tone left no room for argument. “And when God gives you a gift, it’s part of His plan.”

Doubt flared from the embers of Emma’s grief, snuffing out the unexpected flicker of longing that Abby’s words stirred in her heart. There had been a time in her life when she had believed it—before she began to wonder why, when it came to her, did God seem to take away more than He gave?