Last Chance Family Part 5

Tim looked down at his hands, torn by conflicting emotions and fears. What if this guy was playing him for a fool?

There was only one way to determine that. He needed to call an investigator. And he needed to get a grip. "Look, Mike, I'm going to hire a private investigator to have your story checked out. But in the meantime, I want the little girl to be cared for. And I thought it might help if you enrolled her in the church's Bible camp. It starts on Monday. And with her at church, I could spend time with her, and you wouldn't be here babysitting her all the time. You could get some work done. And she could spend some time away from the cat." Tim looked up as he finished his speech. His eyes burned, and he could hardly breathe. But maybe the tightness in his chest had nothing to do with cat dander. Maybe it had everything to do with the fact that he might finally have a brother.

Mike leaned forward with his elbows braced on his knees and studied Tim's face. "Thanks for setting up the counseling for Rainbow. I'll help pay the cost. She needs some help, that's for sure."

"All right, I'm glad we agree," Tim said. "I'll be by tomorrow around three o'clock to pick her up." He blew his nose and wiped his eyes as he stood up. "I wish I could stay a little longer, but I'm having a crazy day today. Ruthie Clatcher just lost her father, and I have to run down to her house to meet with the family."

"I've already heard about Mr. Clatcher."

"You did? Really?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah, Elsie Campbell came by with a coconut cake, and she got the phone call while she was here. You'll be pleased to know I sent the uneaten portion of my cake off to the bereaved."

"Elsie was here?" Uh-oh, that had big trouble written all over it.

"Timmy," Mike said, the corner of his mouth sliding upward in a half smile, "the members of your altar guild are trying to find you the perfect wife. I gather someone named Sabina Grey is at the top of their list. I hope you understand why I'm planning to check her out. If there's a woman in your life, I need to know about it. I mean, whoever she is will become Rainbow's mom. And I hope you can understand why I want Rainbow to have the best mom in the world."

Tim squeezed his eyes shut. They were burning like n.o.body's business. He needed to get going, but not before he discouraged Mike from joining forces with the Altar Guild. "Ah, look, Mike, you don't really understand how things work in this town. Those women can stir up trouble. Big trouble. I've seen them do it on several occasions. So it's best to stay clear of them, okay? Before you get all caught up in their machinations."

"So you're saying you like being a bachelor?"

"Well, no, actually. I would like to settle down someday with the right woman. But I am not about to let the Altar Guild find her for me."

CHAPTER.

6.

Charlene usually spent Thursday in her car, traveling from one farm to another, checking up on the large animals in her practice. She loved these days. Caring for dogs and cats (and the occasional ferret) was fine, but she had landed her job with Creature Comforts because she'd specialized in large-animal care-a choice that Mother and Daddy never quite understood, seeing as she hadn't been raised on a farm.

But she had gone a little horse-mad when she'd been a teen and spent a lot of time in stables learning about the care and feeding of horses. In those days, she had to travel thirty miles to find a good stable with riding horses. But Dash Randall had changed all that when he'd started breeding American Paints right in Last Chance.

So she loved Thursdays, when she made her field rounds. She made a point of stopping by Painted Corner Stables every week to check up on the horses in Dash's care. She would check in with Walter Taylor, Dash's trainer, and nip any medical problems in the bud. She always made Dash's place the last stop. And sometimes, if she got there early enough, Walter would saddle up one of Dash's horses, and she'd take a little ride.

But not today. She had a million things to do today, and first on her list was stopping by the Last Chance Around antiques mall to pick up Daddy's birthday present-a 1927 hard rubber Waterman fountain pen that Sabina Grey had scored at an auction. Daddy would love it. He collected pens.

She pulled her pickup into a parking spot right in front of the mall, which had at one time been a Woolworth five-and-dime. About a year ago, Sabina and her sister, Lucy, managed to find an old F.W. Woolworth sign dating back to the 1950s. They had restored it and affixed it above the awning where the original sign had been. But instead of cheap, plastic merchandise in the front windows, the girls displayed antiques and vintage finds. Inside, the store had been gutted and part.i.tioned into stalls for about thirty independent merchants. The place was crammed full of stuff, running the gamut from art deco jewelry to midcentury modern lamps and tables. You could also find some pretty weird stuff at Last Chance Around Antiques, like the collection of Dating Game lunchboxes that Sally McCrea sold in her stall.

She didn't expect to run into Mike Taggart at the antiques mall. But there he stood leaning a hip into the front cash counter talking with Sabina Grey, flaunting his oh-so-s.e.xy laugh lines. His eyes seemed to have an unusual spark in them today. And by the look in Sabina's eyes, she was enjoying every minute of the conversation.

And who wouldn't? Mike Taggart looked like a candidate for People magazine's s.e.xiest man alive issue. He had just the right amount of fiery stubble. Just the right amount of swagger. Just the right bad boy gleam in his eyes.

Yup. He was the kind of guy who would never, in a million years, meet with Mother and Daddy's approval. Which immediately made him irresistible.

Thank G.o.d, Charlene had moved past her rebellious stage. She'd learned her lesson about guys like Mike Taggart. And she needed to intercede right now before Sabina got herself in too deep.

"Hey," Charlene said in a big voice as she strode toward them. "I'm here to get Daddy's pen."

Mike straightened and turned toward Charlene in slow motion. The glint in his eyes cooled. Good. She wanted nothing to do with him.

"Oh, hey, Charlene, have you met Mike Taggart?" Sabina said.

"Yes. We've met. In fact, we're neighbors," Mike said. He managed to twist the word. Obviously he didn't like the fact that she was keeping an eye on him.

"Where's Rainbow?" she asked.

"You know, Doc," he said in his Yankee way, "you need to quit a.s.suming that I'm some kind of ax murderer. I'm really a very nice guy who would never leave a five-year-old on her own. Rainbow is with Timmy."

"Timmy?" Charlene and Sabina echoed the name in unison.

"Yeah, Timmy," Mike said. "I know everyone around here calls him Tim. But he's my little brother, and I always called him Timmy."

"I'll bet he was a beautiful baby," Sabina said.

"Yes, he was. Blond hair, blue eyes, big smile. Big heart." Mike stopped speaking and something changed in his expression. As if his mask has slipped. "I missed Timmy a lot when his father took him away."

"So that's what happened?" Sabina asked. Sabina was a member of the Methodist Altar Guild, so it was only natural that she had a lot of questions.

"Yeah. His father left when I was five and Timmy was three."

"You must have been heartbroken," Sabina said.

"I guess." Neither his face nor his voice betrayed any emotions, which was odd, given the topic of discussion.

He didn't elaborate. He just stood there for a moment, glancing at Charlene and then Sabina, as if he were trying to find some way to change the subject or trying to suppress emotions.

"Well, ladies," he finally said, "I'd love to stay here gossiping, but I need to get going. Timmy is bringing Rainbow back at four-thirty, and I have a few errands to run. It was nice meeting you, Sabina."

He turned and brushed pa.s.sed Charlene. He got three paces away and then turned. "By the way, Doc, I like the boots and the eau de cow you're wearing." He had the gall to wink at her before he turned and strolled from the shop.

Charlene looked down at her feet. She hadn't taken off her heavy-duty rubber boots, the ones she always wore when she went tramping through barns and fields. Her boots were dirty up to the ankles with dried muck. They definitely smelled like barn, but that particular odor never bothered Charlene. She liked eau de cow.

Even so, her whole body went hot, right down to the ends of her hair. d.a.m.n. How could she allow a stupid comment from an idiot man to embarra.s.s her? Her boots were a necessary part of her job. She often wore them around town on Thursdays. And no one had ever said a word to her about it before.

She turned toward Sabina, trying not to grind her teeth. "I came for the pen," she said.

Sabina snagged an oblong box from the shelf behind the counter. The box was teal-colored with the words "Waterman Fountain Pen" printed along the top. She placed it on the counter and opened the top to reveal a black pen with a bra.s.s clip and ink lever. It was in immaculate condition. The box even contained the original paper instructions that came with the pen.

"Daddy is going to love this."

"I'm sure he is. So what do you think of Mike Taggart?"

"Not much," Charlene said, reaching into her purse for her wallet. "Why was he here? He doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who loves antiques."

"I think Elsie Campbell sent him," Sabina said with a laugh as she took Charlene's Visa card.

"What? Why would Elsie send him here?"

"Honey, you don't know the political maneuvering that goes on inside the Methodist Altar Guild. The girls have all decided that it's past time for the preacher to get married. And since I'm the only single woman of marriageable age who's a member of the guild, naturally they think I should make a play for Pastor Tim." She rolled her eyes. "But, you know, I really don't feel any sparks in that department. The guy is really handsome but kind of a dork at times." She sighed mightily as she swiped the Visa card.

"But I still don't get it. What does Mike have to do with the Altar Guild?"

"We've adopted him, sort of. The prevailing view is that Mike's story is true and that his only motive for being here is to find a family for the little girl. Which is why Elsie told him that I would make the perfect wife for Pastor Tim."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. So Mike came in here pretending to shop, but really he was checking me out. And then he engaged me in a conversation that felt a whole lot like a job interview."

"Really?"

She nodded and handed Charlene her credit card and the sales receipt to sign. "It's kind of cute, you know?"

"Cute? You think it's cute? It's annoying and I don't know, wrong or something." She handed Sabina the signed receipt.

"I don't know. The idea that he would come here and try to find the perfect family for his niece is sweet, actually. He could have chosen to turn his back on the little girl."

"But that's exactly what he's doing. He's turning his back on her. He's come here to leave Rainbow on the church's doorstep."

"No, I don't think so. Why would he still be here? Besides, how can he abandon Rainbow if she's only been in his custody for less than a week? It's not like he fathered this child. He didn't even have to take custody of her. He could have left her to the foster care system. That would have been wrong. But taking custody, bringing her here, and trying to find a family for her-that's not abandonment in my book. And he seemed h.e.l.l bent to get my entire life history."

"Really?"

Sabina nodded. "Yeah. He's completely misguided, of course. But his heart's in the right place."

Tim sat in the middle of a white leather couch in Dr. Andrea Newsome's office. The therapist sat facing him from behind a big desk with bra.s.s fittings. To the left, in a corner of the room, stood a low table where Rainbow sat quietly coloring a picture.

She'd just spent the last forty-five minutes with the doctor. Now it was Tim's turn, and he wondered how much of his own inner confusion he should admit.

He wanted to reveal himself to the woman in front of him. She had an open, kind face with widely s.p.a.ced brown eyes.

"So," she said, folding her hands in front of her. She had good, capable hands devoid of fancy polish. "How do you feel about this turn of events?"

How did he feel? "Confused," he admitted.

She nodded. "That's understandable. So are you going to check out Mike Taggart's story?"

He looked down at his hands. "Can I be honest?"

"Honesty is what I'm looking for, Reverend Lake."

He looked up at her. "Please, call me Tim."

"All right."

"I don't want to check out Mike Taggart's story. I'm afraid to."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "If what he says is true then my parents lied to me."

"All parents lie. You know that, don't you?"

He looked up, frowning. "That's a cynical view."

"No, it's not. Parents lie about all kinds of things. Mostly to protect their kids. They don't tell children the truth about death. Sickness. Poverty. They make up stories about Santa Claus."

"Yes, but this is a bigger lie than that."

"Is it? Or did your father merely want to protect you from the fact that your birth mother was an alcoholic? That he once had a problem with addiction?"

He looked over at Rainbow. "Mike said I owed him something. He seems to be very angry with me. Or maybe it's Dad he's so angry with."

"That makes perfect sense. Your father abandoned him. That's tough on a kid. He's probably jealous of the life you got to lead."

Tim snapped his gaze back to the doctor. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty?"

She laughed. The sound seemed to find its way inside. What a remarkably joyful sound. "No. I don't try to make people feel guilty. That's not what my profession is all about. But I suppose that doesn't exactly hold true for yours, does it?"

"So you're saying that I've built my career on guilt, huh?"

Something mischievous danced in her eyes. Tim already knew Andrea didn't regularly attend church. "Well, I certainly sat through any number of sermons as a child in a Catholic household where the priest intended to make me feel guilty. And I rebelled against that. I believe guilt is a waste of time. So you shouldn't feel guilty about what your father did. The question is what are you going to do now to positively affect Rainbow's future?"

He let go of a big sigh. "I don't know. I can see where I might be in a position to give her a more stable upbringing. But I don't have the first idea of how to care for a child. I'm not even sure I'd make a good parent. And then there's the matter of the cat. Mike seems to think that separating the child from her cat would be traumatic."

Andrea nodded. "First of all, Tim, everyone who has ever become a parent enters into that role with trepidation. And as for the cat, I think we need to give that issue a few days. For now I think stability is what she needs."

Dr. Newsome unfolded her hands. "Let's talk about Rainbow for a moment. First, I can tell you unequivocally that she is not faking it. She has definitely suffered some kind of traumatic experience. I don't know if it's merely related to the violent death of her mother or if she's been abused. She's showing signs of regression. And I would imagine that she's probably having bad dreams. So, do you think Mike has harmed the child in any way?"

Tim looked down at the carpet. It was a calming shade of green. He closed his eyes and prayed for a moment before he looked up. "I don't believe Mike Taggart is the kind of person who hurts little children. I think he genuinely wants her to have a good home." He paused for a moment before he went on. "Of course I sometimes think Mike is a con man. And then I don't know what to think. This situation is ripping me apart."

Dr. Newsome gave him an empathetic look that was almost like a balm. "We need to make sure that he's not hurting Rainbow. So you will need to run a background check on him. And if you won't do that, then I will do it myself. I would also like to meet Mike. In these cases, it's important to start by ensuring the child is safe. We can't make any progress with psychotherapy if she's not."

"I agree."

"And, Tim, while I fully understand your conflicted feelings, I can't allow you to drag your feet on this one thing. If you won't take the steps to verify Mike Taggart's story, then I will. Because the girl has been traumatized. And it's my job to make sure that the authorities know if she's currently being abused."

"I understand. But, please, don't call them yet. I promise. I'll check him out as soon as possible."