choice. It’ll get full sun there.”
Jeremy seemed to grow several inches, basking in Jake Sutton’s approval as if he’d been the one exposed to sunlight.
It didn’t make sense. Her son, ordinarily shy around strangers, was responding to the police chief as if they’d known each other for years.
Emma changed direction, veering toward the shed in search of a shovel. The knot in her stomach loosened when Jake didn’t follow her. Facing any critters that might have taken up residence inside was more appealing than facing him at the moment.
When she returned a few minutes later, brushing cobwebs from the rusty shovel she’d unearthed, Jake was kneeling beside Jeremy. Heads bowed together, shadow and sun, as they studied the planting directions printed on a ragged piece of paper attached to one of the branches with a piece of twine.
Her lips tightened.
The sooner she started digging, the sooner Jake Sutton would leave them alone.
Emma aimed the shovel at a random spot in the grass but Jake plucked it gently from her grasp. “Jeremy’s got it.” He aimed a wink in her son’s direction, as if the two of them had already discussed how to deal with the possibility of any maternal resistance.
“We haven’t had much rain. The ground is pretty hard.” She reached for the tool again but Jake handed it to Jeremy, who reacted as if he’d been given the Olympic torch.
Emma worried her bottom lip between her teeth while she watched Jeremy’s face scrunch in concentration as he threw his weight against the handle. The ground barely cracked beneath the blade.
“I can—” Emma started to say.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Jeremy gasped. “I got it.”
“You’re doing great.” Jake smiled again. At her. As if he knew how difficult it was not to take over. To watch Jeremy struggle.
The next five minutes seemed like an hour. Finally Jake stepped forward. “Looks great, Jeremy. Why don’t you take the tree out of the bucket while I clear some of this loose dirt out of the hole?”
“Okay,” Jeremy panted the word, relinquishing the shovel with a grin.
Emma felt something shift inside her. She had a feeling that by the time Jake cleared some of the “loose dirt” out of the hole, it would be deep enough to plant the root ball.
Jeremy wrestled the apple tree out of the bucket, and together he and Jake dropped it carefully into the hole.
If possible, the sapling looked even more forlorn than it had in the bucket.
Jeremy must have thought so, too. “I’m going to get some water.”
He scampered away, leaving Emma alone with Jake Sutton.
“I hope you don’t mind.” The rough velvet of his voice scraped across Emma’s frayed emotions. “I thought you might like a change this year. Something that will last longer than a vase of flowers.”
Change?
Emma almost laughed.
She’d been through enough changes to last a lifetime.
Chapter Three
“So, how are you adjusting to small-town life?” Matthew Wilde slid into the booth opposite Jake.
“Did we have an appointment?” Jake feigned confusion. “Because I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t choose to answer that question during the morning rush at the Grapevine Café.”
“I don’t wait for my congregation to make appointments.” The pastor shrugged. “I’ve discovered it’s more effective to go where they are. Like Jesus did.”
“Mmm. That explains why you spend so much time out on the lake.”
“Jesus did say something about becoming fishers of men.” Matt grinned. “What better place to find them?”
“What can I get you, Pastor?” Kate Nichols, the owner of the café, appeared beside their table, her smile as vibrant as the auburn curls that poked out like rusty bedsprings under the yellow bandana she wore. “Just coffee.”
Kate propped one hand on her hip. “You know as well as I do that as soon as I leave you’re going to change your mind and want the special with a side of hash browns and bacon. Why don’t you save me the trouble and put the order in now?”
“I’m surprised you stay in business, Kate. The way you treat your customers. And your pastor,” Matt added piously.
Kate arched a brow. “Eggs?”
“Over medium.”
She turned to Jake. “Chief?”
“Just coffee, thanks.”
Kate tucked the pen in her apron pocket and flitted away. She reminded Jake of a hummingbird. Always in motion. From what he’d heard, Kate Nichols was Mirror Lake’s own five-foot-two generator, keeping the town running.
“Why did she believe you and not me?” Matt complained.
“I never change my mind.”
The vinyl booth crackled as Matt leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. “Your name came up yesterday.”
“Let me guess. Delia Peake.” From the way the woman had glared at him from the back row of the choir on Sunday morning, Jake guessed she was still steamed that the animal who’d trampled her garden and sampled the produce as if it were a buffet had eluded capture. As far as Delia was concerned, if Jake was worth his salt as a police chief, he would have apprehended the furry little vandal himself. Never mind that he’d been out at the Barlow house at the time of the “attack.”
Jake jerked his thoughts back into line as they strayed to Emma Barlow. Again. Almost a week had gone by since he’d tossed protocol out of the window and presented her with an apple tree instead of a bouquet of roses. The memory of that morning should have started to fade. Instead, the opposite had occurred. Jake found himself thinking about it—about her—even more. Emma Barlow had a way of sneaking into his thoughts before he realized what was happening…
Like right now.
“No, it wasn’t Delia. This time.” From the amusement lurking in Matt’s eyes, Jake knew the pastor had heard about the garden fiasco. “A few months ago, Harold Davis, one of the church elders, met with me about starting a mentoring program. Matching men from the congregation with boys from single-parent families in town. The initial feedback from everyone was positive, so we researched the success of similar programs in other churches and wrote up a mission statement. I’ve been compiling a list of men willing to serve as positive role models for boys who don’t have one in their lives.”
Jake could see where this was going. “And you want to add mine to the list.”
“I already did.”
“This
