Second Time's the Charm

“Admit it—” Lillie grinned back “—you just want to spend the entire trip with your arms wrapped around that husband of yours.”

“I also happen to love the wind in my hair, the feeling of flying and the rush of speed....”

Ellen looked happier than Lillie had ever seen her. And for a brief second, she was envious.

Nancy, a mother of six who’d been working at the diner since she was in high school, approached them from behind the counter. Ellen ordered a cherry pie to go. “Jay and Josh are in the car,” she told Lillie. “Mom’s having the ladies over this afternoon and I told her I’d pick up the pie on my way there.”

Ellen’s mom, Martha—who was married to one of the preachers in town—and her friends, some of them from as far back as high school, got together every week. They were well-known throughout town because anytime anyone needed anything, the ladies inevitably found out about it and went out of their way to help. It didn’t hurt that Becca Parsons, mayor of Shelter Valley, was among their ranks.

Nancy turned to Lillie and she ordered a sandwich—easy to eat in the park—and waved as Mrs. Wright and Bailey walked in, hand in hand. Bailey’s lab work hadn’t come back yet.

“Did you hear about the break-in?” Ellen asked as Nancy went to the back to collect the pie and put in Lillie’s order.

“At the Conklins’? Yeah, Dr. Mueller mentioned it this morning. They just took cash, right?”

“Mom said they think it’s one guy working alone. Something about a size-ten footprint. They aren’t sure if he was only after cash, or if the Conklins got home while he was still there and scared him off. He left the sliding glass door leaning against a wall.”

“I was here four years for college and I’ve been back for five and the only break-ins I ever heard of were on campus.”

“I know what you mean. I read the police report in the weekly paper Mom sends to me in Phoenix and there have been a few accounts of people walking out of stores with things,” Ellen said. “But mostly the calls are due to domestic violence or traffic accidents or someone having a heart attack.”

But they both knew that, even given Shelter Valley’s low crime rates, bad things did happen there. Ellen was living proof of that.

“I’m sure Sheriff Richards will catch whoever did it,” Lillie told her friend, and hoped she was right. Knowing that there was a thief living among them was creepy. Shelter Valley was a unique little place on earth. It had been founded by a man who’d sought shelter from a world that condemned him for a mixed-race marriage at a time when such things weren’t accepted. The town’s growth had been guided by the belief that all good people deserved shelter from life’s storms.

And everyone who came to town seeking shelter and stayed was ready to offer shelter to others who needed it.

After saying goodbye to her friend, Lillie paid for her sandwich and focused on her upcoming appointment.

The child. Not the father.

She could get through anything life had to hand her by focusing on work.

* * *

“THROW THE BALL, son.” Kneeling next to Abe, Jon showed the toddler how to give the plastic orb an underhanded toss. And with a sprint, he made it in front of the ball to grab it as it fell and toss it back toward the little boy. Abraham followed the ball and, tripping over Jon’s feet, fell against him. Standing immediately, Abe reached for the ball with both hands and placed them just as Jon had demonstrated, tossed the ball and went running after it again.

“Wait, son,” Jon said. “Stay right there and Daddy will throw it back to you.” For two Saturdays now he’d been trying to teach the boy the concept of playing catch. Trying to get Abe to wait for the ball to come back to him. And just as Jon was determined to teach him, Abe was determined to play the game his own way.

Still, Jon continued to try. He waited while Abe tossed the ball and then went after it, trying to get the ball heading back to the toddler before Abe’s small legs got to it.

“Watch,” he said. “Daddy will throw the ball and then you catch it,” he said. Backing up, he tossed the cheap dollar-store toy gently in Abe’s direction. The boy ran toward it, waited while it dropped and then grabbed it with a laugh.

“Now throw it to me,” Jon said. Abraham tossed. And ran. Jon reached the ball first and, scooping it up with one hand, tossed the ball back in his son’s direction. Again. And again.

“I’m going to back up farther now,” he said as Abe once more picked up the ball. Turning, he hurried a few steps away before Abe had time to straighten. “Nooo!” His heart in his throat, Jon swung back around at the sound of his son’s terrified scream.

If...

Abraham stood there, right where he’d been, screaming his head off. No one was around. The ball was still in the boy’s hands.

“Abe?” He ran forward. Grabbed the boy’s hands, letting the ball drop to the ground as he checked for bee stings. Abe’s legs were next, and Jon scrutinized them fully while the toddler gained the attention of everyone else in the park with his full-bodied screams.

Jon glanced quickly around, fearing that Lillie Henderson would observe this latest display, but only saw unfamiliar faces staring back at them. Some were tinged with curiosity. An older woman on a bench several yards away was frowning.

But there was no sign of Ms. Henderson.

Jon picked the boy up and Abe quieted almost immediately.