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  Lord, please be with Paul and Tyson and please help me to help them in the best way I can.

  Charlotte picked up the dishcloth and wiped the counter and around the burners of the stove. The motion helped soothe her racing thoughts.

  She knew her home would never be as pristinely immaculate as the one she grew up in, but that suited her just fine. She loved the earthy tones, the fact that not everything matched perfectly, her collection of knickknacks that ranged from lovely to humorous and the fact that her bookshelves bulged from floor to ceiling and still couldn’t contain everything she wanted to read.

  Her home was her haven, and she was content there. Or at least she had been. Why was it that lately she felt like she wanted to go somewhere where no one knew her? She looked at the computer that sat on her kitchen table and promised herself that she would make time for more missionary-work research later.

  She was scrubbing especially hard at a remnant of spaghetti sauce on the stove top when the phone rang, causing her to jump.

  “Charlotte, dear, it’s Mom.” Her mother sounded weary. “How are you? I just wanted to touch base with you.”

  “I’m fine, Mom,” she said. “How was your day? How’s your head feeling today? Did you and Dad get to the farmer’s market?” Her mother launched into a description of carrots, cucumbers, beets and bartering.

  Try as she might to focus, Charlotte’s thoughts kept drifting to missionary work. She felt like she was keeping a secret from her parents by not telling them that she was even thinking about it, but she couldn’t bring herself to mention it, because it seemed like ever since Anna had died, her parents got through their days by keeping things as much the same as they could. To them, change often signaled something negative.

  * * *

  On Wednesday night, Paul watched Tyson eat his last bite of spaghetti, then immediately leaned in with a washcloth to tackle the orange beard. Tyson yowled and wriggled.

  “Quite the performance,” Paul observed dryly. The first time Tyson had reacted that way to getting his face cleaned, he had thought he was hurting him and had felt guilty. Now, he realized it was par for the course for a six-year-old and that Ty would be fine in thirty seconds.

  Sure enough, his face clean, Tyson asked nonchalantly, “Where are we going again, Uncle Paul?”

  “We’re going to the church. There are some activities there on Wednesday nights that might be fun.”

  “What’s activities?”

  “Games, I think. Maybe some stories and snacks. There’s a basketball hoop outside.” Paul tried to think of how else to sell the idea to Tyson...or maybe he was trying to sell it to himself. “Your teacher will be there, too, I think.”

  “Ms. Connelly?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “I like stories,” Tyson mused, “and games, and maybe basketball.”

  “See, it will be great!” The enthusiastic tone in Paul’s voice sounded slightly false to his own ears. “Put your plate in the sink, please,” he told Tyson. “And go brush your teeth. We’ll be leaving in five minutes.”

  Tyson obliged, but then stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “My mom and my dad used to read stories to me. Will you read me stories, Uncle Paul?”

  Oh, please, not now...

  “What!” Paul feigned exaggerated offense. “What about the continuing saga of ‘Ty the Adventure Boy’? You can’t tell me that there’s a story out there more exciting than that!”

  Every night at bedtime, he’d been spinning out tales of a little boy just like Tyson who went on a variety of adventures. So far, Tyson had seemed to love it, but Paul worried that his reprieve was over.

  But Tyson didn’t say anything else for the moment. He just turned and ran up the rest of the stairs.

  He took the few minutes that Tyson would be gone to rinse off their supper dishes. He still wasn’t quite used to Tyson’s toys and articles of clothing strewn here and there. He preferred his living accommodations to be clean, stark and impersonal. That way nothing felt like home and it was easy to leave when the urge took him.

  But you can’t do that anymore, he thought. It was different when he had only himself to worry about, but now he had Tyson to consider, and he would for many years to come. It wasn’t just that Erica had granted him guardianship of Ty. He knew all too well what it felt like to think no one was on your side, and he was determined that Tyson would never have to feel that way. Thankfully, Ty’s teacher felt the same way. He had the primary role in Tyson’s life, but the more people the little boy could count on, the better.

  Tyson came back down the stairs with his face pink from what looked to be another scrubbing and his hair slicked back and smelling suspiciously like Paul’s aftershave.

  “Got yourself a little spiffed up there, did you, bud?”

  Tyson nodded and beamed, while Paul fervently hoped the walk over would help ease some of the overpowering scent.

  The church was about a ten-minute walk from his house, and he knew that there was really no good reason why attending on Sundays couldn’t become a regular habit for them. Well, other than the fact that he had lost his desire to attend years ago.

  “Will there be kids there that I know?” Tyson asked, and Paul tried to gauge whether there was any apprehension in the question.

  “I expect so,” he said. “Ms. Connelly said there usually are. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Tyson considered and nodded.

  “Tyson?”

  “Yeah, Uncle Paul?”

  “The other kids in your class...they’re nice to you, aren’t they?”

  “Yup. Except...they all have moms and dads.” Paul watched his nephew struggle to articulate something that no six-year-old should have to. It was difficult enough for an adult to cope with the impact of such a loss.

  “It’s okay, Ty,” he said softly, giving the boy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I totally get it.

  “And Ms. Connelly is a good teacher?” he asked, after they continued walking. He thought that she was, but he needed to hear Tyson say it.

  “Yeah, she’s nice and she’s pretty. Do you think she’s pretty, Uncle Paul?”

  He pictured her caring smile and violet eyes. “Yes, she’s pretty.” It caught him off guard how much he meant it.

  “She’s not even married,” Tyson added, conversationally. “Hey! Neither are you, Uncle Paul.”

  Okay, he had to put a rapid stop to wherever Tyson was going with this.

  “As long as she’s a good teacher and you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

  At the front door of the church, Tyson hesitated. “If I don’t have fun, we don’t have to stay, right?”

  “No, we don’t,” Paul said. “But I hope that you do have fun.” He suddenly felt pressured, like he desperately needed this to work out—for both of them. He had to find his place here in town and get along with people as well as he could, even though he always kept his guard up.

  He was growing used to the way Tyson’s bravado ebbed and flowed. But he wished he knew if that was typical of the age or something specific to Tyson’s personality.

  There were so many things that he didn’t know.

  The first person Paul spotted when they stepped inside was Charlotte. Her appearance surprised him. She looked much less rigid dressed in blue jeans and a navy-blue-and-turquoise plaid shirt, with her hair pulled up in a ponytail. She was smiling at someone, and he suddenly wished that he was the recipient of the smile that brought life and beauty to her face. She didn’t have the kind of beauty that he had noticed right away. But now he wanted to keep looking.

  He found himself drawn in her direction, not even sure what he planned to say to her, only knowing he wanted to be within her reassuring orbit. “There’s your teacher,” he murmured to Tyson. “Let’s go say hello.”

  They drew closer but j
ust as he was about to get her attention, she called out, “Literacy volunteers for tonight, raise your hands, please!”

  Paul stopped and gripped Tyson’s hand.

  Charlotte summoned the volunteers forward and began to give them instructions.

  “Char, I’m so happy to hear you’re going to apply for overseas missionary work,” Paul heard one of the volunteers say. “I think you’ll be absolutely perfect for it.”

  He couldn’t hear Charlotte’s response, and he was only vaguely aware of Tyson tugging at his hand and saying, “C’mon, Uncle Paul, I wanna say hi to Ms. Connelly.”

  “She’s busy,” he answered automatically. “Let’s go find something to do.”

  While his thoughts whirled around in his head, he stopped Tyson’s protests by steering him toward a table that held juice and cookies.

  Why had Charlotte promised that they would work as a team to help Tyson when her plan was to leave town?

  He hoped he hadn’t made a huge mistake in coming here...or in trusting her.

  Chapter Three

  Charlotte tried to focus on setting up tables and chairs in the room where the literacy class was being held, but she was puzzled. She was sure that she had seen Paul and Tyson come in and start heading in her direction, but by the time she was finished instructing the volunteers, they were nowhere to be seen.

  Well, she would try to catch up with them later. They had a full house tonight. She noticed that the tired, rather bedraggled-looking woman and her young son, whom Bridget had asked about at Seth’s, were there again. They stayed close to the snack table, and she pondered approaching them to see if they wanted to join in any of the activities. But the last time she had done so, the woman had responded in a prickly manner that had set Charlotte back on her heels. Still, she believed that the church was open to all and guessed that they just wanted a place to be without being bombarded with questions.

  The little boy—if she remembered correctly, his name was Michael Cannon—had joined the other children for stories and games last week, but he hadn’t interacted much, and his mother had been anxious to leave as soon as the evening was over.

  Charlotte reminded herself to ask around to see if anyone knew more about them, and to pray for them.

  “Charlotte, can you give me a hand setting out the materials?”

  She snapped herself out of her musings to see Stephanie Winslow, a pretty young pharmacy assistant who worked at Dudley’s, holding an armful of books, sheets of paper and a box of pencils.

  “Sorry, Steph, be right there.” She hurried over to relieve Stephanie of some of her load.

  As the two women got things organized, other volunteers came through the door—Seth and Rena were there, Dudley and his wife, and a couple of teenage boys from youth group.

  “Good of you to come out.” Charlotte smiled at them.

  The literacy volunteer group worked mainly with immigrants who were learning English. Usually Charlotte loved interacting with the students. She loved their eagerness and willingness to learn and seeing the way their eyes would light up with pride and understanding when they grasped something. But, for some reason, on this particular night she couldn’t concentrate.

  Her thoughts kept returning to Paul and Tyson. She wondered where they had gone—if they had even stayed—and what activities they had chosen. She tried telling herself that she was only concerned for Tyson, but she had to admit that she was also worried about his handsome uncle. She wondered what had prompted him to come tonight when she had been so sure that he wouldn’t.

  But perhaps the biggest question was why did it matter to her so much? Was she already getting too involved, not only in her concern for Tyson but also by accepting Paul’s offer of help around her house? She was Tyson’s teacher and committed to helping him, but she didn’t want to risk too strong a connection knowing full well that she could be gone by the end of June.

  But asking herself those questions didn’t stop her from wanting to track them down.

  “Would you mind getting things started?” she asked Stephanie. “I have something I have to check on.”

  Stephanie quirked a curious eyebrow at her but nodded.

  “Thanks. I promise I won’t be long.”

  Charlotte stepped out into the main fellowship room and looked around. She spotted Tyson by the snack table, where he was exchanging wary glances with Michael. The latter boy’s mother was nowhere in sight, although Paul lingered close by, keeping a watchful eye on both boys.

  “Where’s your mom, Michael?” Charlotte asked. He looked surly and older than his years.

  “Went to read in the library. She said she needed quiet time.”

  “There are stories and games for you boys, if you like,” Charlotte said. She glanced at Paul, who looked ready to pounce.

  “If that’s okay with you,” she said to him. “Eugenie, from Seth’s café, is supervising the kids tonight. I promise she’s very good with them.”

  “Would you like to go, Ty?” Paul asked.

  “I guess...” the little boy said.

  Tyson looked uneasily at Michael, who shifted from one foot to the other and said, “I guess I’ll just go sit with my mom. I know I have to be quiet,” he said, answering a question that hadn’t been asked.

  As soon as Michael was gone, Tyson said with more conviction, “I want to go.”

  “I’ll show you where the room is.” Charlotte offered him her hand, which he grasped onto.

  Paul followed closely behind them. “What’s with that kid? Michael?” he asked in a low tone so Tyson couldn’t hear him.

  “I’m not sure,” Charlotte admitted. “They don’t live in Green Valley, and he’s not at my school. I get the feeling they haven’t had an easy time of it.”

  “Probably not,” Paul said. “I hope things work out for them, whatever the issue is, but I have to say I’m glad he’s not in your class.”

  “Why is that?” Charlotte asked.

  “Let’s just say, I know the type.”

  She turned a questioning face to him, but his was unreadable.

  Charlotte handed off Tyson to Eugenie. He soon had a book in one hand, a cookie in the other and a nose-crinkling grin on his face.

  “Have fun, sport,” Paul said to Tyson. “I’ll be right out here at...?”

  “At eight o’clock,” Charlotte said. “Eugenie will tell you when it’s time to go.”

  She knew she needed to get back to her group, but she wondered what Paul planned to do for the remainder of the evening.

  “Would you like to join our group?” she asked him. “The more the merrier.”

  As she extended what was meant to be just a friendly invitation, she suddenly realized how much she wanted him to say yes.

  * * *

  For one mindless moment, Paul felt like he’d follow the teacher and her bright smile wherever she was going. But then it struck him that, of course, she meant that he could come along and help teach. He felt his mouth quirk into an unamused smile. It didn’t help either that he still carried his discomfort from what he had overheard earlier.

  “When I came to see you about Tyson,” he began.

  “Yes?” Charlotte encouraged.

  “You said that it was important for us to work as a team.”

  “Which is true.” She tilted her head and gave him a puzzled smile.

  “So, why didn’t you happen to mention that you’re planning to go away?” In answer to her startled face, he added, “I overheard one of the volunteers.”

  “I’m only thinking about going,” Charlotte confirmed. She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze. “I haven’t made a final decision yet, but even if I do end up going, it won’t be until after the school year has ended. I meant what I said, Paul. I have no intentions of leaving while Tyson is still in my class.”

  Paul stu
died her. It all sounded good, but only time would tell if her actions matched her words. He had been hurt and disappointed by too many people in the past. He wished her eyes weren’t quite so big and expressive and made an effort to gentle his tone. “I guess we’ll see how it goes, then.”

  Her shoulders relaxed a bit. “Okay, thank you. Would you like to join us?” She extended the invitation again.

  “No, thanks,” Paul said. “I’m more of a physical-activity type.”

  “There’s the basketball hoop outside,” Charlotte reminded him. “You could join your fellow jocks.”

  Your fellow jocks... A memory slammed into him involving some grade eight boys from the basketball team.

  It took every ounce of self-control he had to say lightly, “I guess I meant I’m more of a fix-it kind of guy. I don’t suppose you have any light bulbs that need changing, or a furnace filter that’s overdue for a swap?”

  Charlotte studied him with a puzzled look on her face. “You want to spend your time here fixing things?”

  “Or whatever needs doing.”

  “I thought you’d come here to get to know people better?” she asked.

  She was right, of course, and he would do whatever it took, as long as Tyson was safe and happy here. He just wouldn’t go shoot hoops with a group of men who would bring back memories of how the jocks in school had treated him.

  “I do want that,” Paul said. “But I think you can get to know people working on projects together. Plus, these older buildings usually have a lot of neglected areas because no one has the time or inclination to get to them—kind of like you and your house,” he couldn’t resist adding and grinned to see how flustered the sometimes prim schoolteacher could look.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving her hand. Then she said, “I just thought of something—wait right here.”

  Paul stood there, wondering what she had in mind. Charlotte returned a few minutes later, looking pleased with herself.