Claire turned to thank the stranger, but he’d walked away.
The pocket-size Bible sticking out of his back pocket snagged her attention. Interesting.
She hurried after him, not wanting him to disappear without thanking him. In this day and age, not many people would have come to her aid.
“Hey, wait,” she called.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. When she caught up to him, he arched a black brow. His expression was less intimidating now, more playful. She swallowed.
Her first impression that he was good-looking had been marred by the anger hardening his features. She realized he was beyond good-looking and sliding straight toward gorgeous. Everything inside went on alert, like the quills of a porcupine sensing danger.
TERRI REED
grew up in a small town nestled in the Sierra Nevada foothills. To entertain herself, she created stories in her head and when she put those stories to paper her teachers in grade school, high school and college encouraged her imagination. Living in Italy as an exchange student whetted her appetite for travel and modeling in New York, Chicago and San Francisco gave her a love for the big city, as well. She has also coached gymnastics and taught in a preschool. She enjoys walks on the beach, hikes in the mountains and exploring cities. From a young age she attended church but it wasn’t until her thirties that she really understood the meaning of a faith-filled life. Now living in Portland, Oregon with her college-sweetheart husband, two wonderful children, a rambunctious Australian shepherd and a fat guinea pig, she feels blessed to be able to share her stories and her faith with the world. She loves to hear from readers at P.O. Box 19555, Portland, OR 97280.
A Sheltering Love
Terri Reed
Do to others as you would have them do to you.
—Luke 6:31
To Robyn, friends forever. Thank you for all the times you listened. For all the times you were there when I needed you.
Thank you to author and retired social worker Delle Jacobs for so patiently answering all my questions. Any mistakes are purely mine.
Thank you to my editor, Diane Dietz, for believing in me and for the wonderful pep talk.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
Here comes trouble.
Maybe some kids were beyond her help.
Claire Wilcox eyed the two teenage boys sauntering across the grassy park toward the shaded spot where she and fifteen-year-old Mindy were talking. Claire’s gaze zeroed in on the taller, dark-haired boy with scraggly, shoulder-length hair and a thin face. The early April sunlight splintered off the earring dangling in his left ear. In his hands he carried a golden retriever puppy.
Behind the two boys, in sharp contrast, the purity of the majestic snowcapped peak of Mount Hood rose in the distance like a sentry, standing watch over Oregon’s Willamette Valley.
She’d seen the dark-haired boy around town.
Some locals blamed last month’s vandalism at the downtown theater on this kid. She didn’t know his story, but she would soon if the opening of the teen shelter went as planned this coming July.
“Hey, Johnny, catch.” The dark-haired boy suddenly tossed the puppy to his blond companion, who awkwardly caught the small dog.
Claire’s heart pitched. She stalked forward, her hands clenched at her sides. “Hey! Don’t do that!”
Johnny shoved the dog back into the hands of the taller kid.
“Do this?” He tossed the small dog back to his companion.
The puppy yelped and Johnny caught the little fluff ball, then held it at arm’s length by the scruff of the neck. The kid’s gray sweatshirt and faded jeans were dirty, as if he’d rolled or slept on the ground. His gaze darted away from Claire, his face flushing guiltily.
“Tyler, stop it,” Mindy wailed as she moved to the side of the taller kid.
So this was Tyler.
Claire scrutinized the dark-haired boy in his red T-shirt with some rock band’s logo on the front and ripped, dirty jeans. Mindy had said he was nice. He didn’t look nice. He looked downright nasty. The kind of guy she would have fallen for at Mindy’s age. The kind that would give any parent a heart attack.
Not her. She knew better. Everyone deserved a chance.
Claire understood the pain of the rebellious teens she was trying to help. She understood—had experienced the wounds of childhood. Wounds inflicted by those she should have been able to trust.
Teens like Mindy and Tyler stood on the cusp of adulthood, where the choices they made would affect the rest of their lives. By the grace of God, Aunt Denise had stepped in and helped Claire when she’d been at the point of no return. Not every teen was as fortunate.
If only Claire could get through to kids like these. Earning the right to be heard, to be trusted, would take time. Once The Zone officially opened, she hoped to make a difference in their lives. Give them a place to belong, to come to when it became too rough at home.
A safe haven.
But her only concern right now was for the animal.
She flexed her hands and willed herself to stay calm. With as much control as she could muster, she said, “Give me the puppy.”
Tyler snorted and grabbed the puppy back from his friend. “You ain’t the boss of me, lady.”
“No, I’m not. You’re the boss of you. But I don’t
