and he pulled back his hand. “Markowski? As in, the Markowskis who live on Elder Lane?”
Reese nodded. “That’s my aunt and uncle. Do you know them?”
“Oh, I know them,” Jacob said. “I know them well enough to know that I don’t want anything to do with them, or any program they’re connected with.”
“Jacob! Be polite!” Gabby knew the Markowskis could be hard to deal with, but she didn’t want Jacob to ruin his chances to do something constructive with his break. “I didn’t know you’d ever spent enough time here to meet Reese’s aunt and uncle.”
“Last summer,” he growled, and then Gabby remembered. She’d been so overwhelmed over on the other side of the state, what with working and caring for Izzy, that she’d barely registered the fact that Jacob had visited Nana last summer. Now that she thought about it, Nana had told her the visit was going on a bit longer than scheduled.
Reese’s eyes narrowed. “What happened?”
“I don’t want to go into it.” Jacob dug his hands deeper into his pockets and stared at the ground.
Reese watched him, and compassion crossed his face. “My aunt and uncle can be difficult,” he said. “If it makes you feel any better, I was the outcast kid in that family. The poor cousin who came to live with them after my parents died. So I’m not exactly one of them.”
Jacob’s eyes flashed toward Reese’s face for a second of raw connection. Gabby guessed he hadn’t met many people who had lost their parents young. She knew herself that it made her feel different from others her age. How much more that must be the case for a teenager.
Reese had always seemed a little sad, a little haunted. It had given him strength and understanding beyond the other high school boys; that had been a part of his appeal. She could see that he still had that going for him, just from the kind way he spoke to her half brother.
“It would be something for you to do over the break,” Gabby said. “Why don’t you give it a chance?”
“I’d like to have you join us,” Reese said. “I could use another older boy. Role models for the younger ones.”
“Are you kidding me? You think I might be a role model?” Jacob rolled his eyes at Gabby. “Talk to your aunt and uncle, is all I can say.”
“I will. But a lot of the kids in the program have issues. The past is the past.”
Gratitude washed over Gabby. Reese was really trying to make this work, just on the strength of her and Jacob’s and Nana’s needs.
“I don’t want to do it.” Jacob shrugged and blew out a breath, making his long bangs puff up, and suddenly, despite the beard stubble, he looked like a little kid. “All I want to do is take a nap. Do we have to decide about this right now?”
Reese chuckled. “That’s about the smartest thing anyone has said all day,” he said. “Gabby, I’ll see you Monday morning. You can bring Jacob if he decides he wants to come, as long as his official guardian agrees. We can do the paperwork then.”
“Thanks,” Gabby said faintly. She couldn’t believe that Reese had so readily agreed to take in the teenager. But she shouldn’t have been surprised. That was who he was.
The problem was, seeing him be a compassionate man was making her fall for him again, even harder than she had when she was in high school. And because of what had happened, he was the last man she should get involved with.
Two days later, right after Sunday services, Reese wiped his brow in the overly heated meeting room just off the fellowship hall. The presentation to the church board and a small audience from the congregation wasn’t going especially well, but it wasn’t going badly.
Reese felt like he had some impressive charts and statistics, but members of the board kept looking out the window at the flurries that had started to fall. A lot of them were nervous drivers and didn’t like to drive in any kind of bad weather, even in broad daylight.
Ideally, they’d agree to fund his program for the next year and hurry home to Sunday dinner. He answered a couple of questions and then looked to the chairperson, hoping to get a quick vote.
And then Santiago Romano stood, leaning on his cane, dark eyes challenging. “When you proposed this program, I didn’t think it would be for that kind of kids,” Mr. Romano said. “I was picturing more of a friendly day camp for kids whose parents have to work while they’re on school break.”
“That’s what it is.” Reese tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, because he knew exactly what Mr. Romano meant. But he wasn’t going to say it himself. If the man wanted to show his snobbery, the words needed to come out of his own mouth. “The kids in the program, for the most part, have parents who are working, some of them two jobs. The Rescue Haven program has been giving them something constructive to do after school since September, and now, that support is continuing through the Christmas vacation.”
“But these are kids in trouble,” Mr. Romano said stubbornly. “Kids who may get into more trouble when they’re all together in a gang, at loose ends all day.”
“The point is, they won’t be at loose ends if you continue to fund the program,” Reese said. “They’re working with dogs other people have abandoned, helping to train and rehabilitate them. And doing sports, and games, and having meals together.” Reese hesitated, not wanting to call the older man out, but he needed to speak up for his boys. “Rather than calling them kids in trouble, I prefer to call them kids at risk.”
“Are we a church who won’t take risks?” Nana’s best friend, Bernadette Williams, was the oldest member of the board, though only by a year or two. “Risks are how great things get accomplished. I like what Reese is doing. These young people need something to bring out the best in them. Reese knows about that, and he’ll do a good job with it.”
“Hear, hear,” came a voice from the small audience. It sounded like Nana, but Reese couldn’t see her.
If Nana was here, did that mean Gabby was, as well?
Reese scanned the room. Board members sat at a large conference table, and interested members of the congregation occupied several rows of chairs at the back of the room.
He hoped some of the other board members would speak up in support, but they were silent.
Reese knew why. They respected Bernadette’s opinions, but Mr. Romano’s money funded so many of the church’s outreaches that everyone was hesitant to offend him.
Time to bring out the big guns. “I have here a copy of the church’s mission,” Reese said, pulling it up on his smartphone. “To spread the gospel of Jesus, through actions as much as through words, with a special mission for the poor.” He looked up and focused on Bernadette’s smiling face. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. I’d like to respectfully request continuation of funding for the next calendar year.”
Mr. Romano must have heard the murmurs of approval throughout the room, because he switched tactics. “I wasn’t expecting the program to be right next door to me,” he said. “You have those kids on the edge of town, close to some of our bigger
