Crossroads. Irene Hannon

him, a faint frown marring his own brow. Why had he sought her out? If he’d had any sense he would have left as soon as the group of parents around him had dispersed. He was beat, and the weekend ahead at his uncle’s farm would be taxing. In fact, he’d planned to make his exit as quickly as possible. So what was it about Tess Lockwood that had made him suddenly change his mind when he’d seen her in line for coffee?

      For one thing, she’d been on his mind a lot since their meeting, he admitted. Though he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to explain—or dismiss—the odd effect she’d had on him that day. He’d gone to sleep more than once with her vivid but troubled green eyes as his last conscious image. It was oddly unsettling, considering that over the past few years he’d built up a pretty thick skin when it came to women. Yet somehow Tess had gotten under it. But he couldn’t very well say that, he realized, struggling to come up with a suitable response.

      “I figured you wouldn’t know anyone here, and I wanted to make sure you felt welcome,” he replied at last, striving for a conversational tone.

      “Oh. Well, I appreciate that. And thank you for telling me about the program. It was very good.”

      “Chris does a terrific job,” he agreed, relieved to be back on safer ground.

      Tess suddenly realized that this was as good a time as any to broach the subject of the interview, so she took a deep breath and plunged in.

      “You both do. In fact, I understand that you’ve just won the governor’s award for excellence in education.”

      He looked at her in surprise. “How did you know?”

      “It came over the wire at the newspaper where I work.”

      “Ah. No secrets from the press, I guess.”

      “Actually, the write-up wasn’t very detailed.”

      He shrugged. “It was enough for most people.”

      “That’s not what my editor thinks.”

      He eyed her speculatively. “What do you mean?”

      “She’d like me to do a feature story on you.”

      He took a moment to respond, and she was suddenly afraid that he was going to turn her down flat. Instead, his reply was noncommittal. “I usually stay away from publicity.”

      “So we’ve heard,” she admitted. “But when I mentioned that we’d met, my boss was hoping you might agree to talk with me. She thought you might feel more comfortable with a familiar face.”

      Mitch took a slow sip of his coffee as he considered the request. Frankly, he wasn’t all that comfortable—with the story or the woman. He was a private person, for good reason. Few people knew the painful details of his past. Few people needed to know. He’d have to sidestep a lot of questions if he agreed to this interview, and that could be uncomfortable. So would being one-on-one with Tess Lockwood. She had already touched his heart in places that were best left undisturbed, and he barely knew her. Further contact could only be more disruptive to his peace of mind.

      At the same time, he suspected that she was working hard to build a new career and a new life in St. Louis. Having to go back to her editor and say that she’d failed to nab an interview couldn’t be good for her. It would just add more stress to what already appeared to be a stress-filled life. And he couldn’t bring himself to do that.

      “All right, Ms. Lockwood. Let’s give it a try,” he agreed.

      Tess smiled. There was relief—and something else he couldn’t quite identify—in her eyes. “Thank you.”

      “Call me tomorrow and we’ll set something up. I may live to regret this, but at least the school board will be happy,” he said with a lopsided grin.

      “So will my editor.” She shifted her purse onto her shoulder, and Mitch reached over to relieve her of her plate and cup.

      “I’ll take care of these.”

      “Thanks. And thank you again for telling me about this meeting. And for agreeing to the interview.” She tilted her head and gave him a rueful smile. “I guess I’ll be in your debt big time.”

      He smiled, and his gaze deepened and connected with hers in a way that left her a bit breathless. “I’ll remember that.”

      For a moment she actually felt lost in his eyes, and the buzz of voices around her seemed to recede. It was only with great effort that she finally dragged her gaze away from his, mumbled goodbye and beat a hasty retreat.

      As Tess made her way to her car, she tried to figure out what had just happened. Or, more accurately, she tried to figure out if anything had happened. She’d probably read far too much into a simple look, she told herself. After all, there was nothing about her to rate any special attention. She was just one more parent with a troubled teen. Bruce was Mitch’s main concern. And that was exactly as it should be.

      Tess knew that. And accepted it. But it didn’t stop a sudden surge of bittersweet longing from echoing softly in her heart.

       Chapter Three

       “H ow about a cup of coffee to go with that pie?”

      Mitch looked up at the older man and smiled. “You spoil me, Uncle Ray.”

      “No such thing. Your visits give me a good excuse to visit the bakeshop in town. Course, their pies aren’t as good as Emma’s. But they’re sure a sight better’n mine.”

      “I do miss Aunt Emma’s pies,” Mitch agreed.

      “Me, too. And a whole lot more,” Uncle Ray said, his eyes softening briefly before he turned away to fiddle with the coffeemaker.

      Mitch glanced at his uncle, still spare and straight at seventy-six. Only a pronounced limp, the result of a bad fracture from a severe fall over two years before, had slowed him down. Mitch knew the older man found the limp burdensome, though he never complained. And he still tried to put in a full day in the fields. Mitch had been trying to convince him to slow down, but as Uncle Ray always reminded him, farming was his life. He liked working the land.

      Besides, Mitch reflected, the land had been the one constant in a life that had known its share of loss and grief. So he couldn’t bring himself to force the issue. Instead, he’d found a job in St. Louis and spent his spare time helping out on the farm. It was the least he could do for the man who had been his lifeline six years before, who had shown him the way out of darkness step by painful step, who had helped him reconnect with his faith and find solace in the Lord. He owed his life—and his sanity—to Uncle Ray, and whenever the work began to overwhelm him, he only had to think back to that nightmare time to realize just how deeply in debt he was to this special man.

      “So what’s on the schedule this weekend?” Mitch asked when the older man turned to place a cup of coffee in front of him.

      “There are still a couple of fields that need to be turned over,” Uncle Ray said as he sat down across from Mitch. “I figured I’d get to them during the week, but I don’t move quite as fast as I used to.”

      Mitch frowned. “I thought we agreed that we’d do the heavy work together, on weekends?”

      Uncle Ray shrugged. “I have time to spare, Mitch. You don’t. What little free time you have shouldn’t be spent out here on an isolated farm with an old man.”

      “We’ve been through this before, Uncle Ray. I told you, I like coming out here. It’s a nice change of pace from the city.”

      “Can’t argue with that. It is a great place. Nothing beats the fresh air and open spaces. But you need some time to yourself, son. Companions your own age. You aren’t going to find those things out here.”

      “I have everything I need,” Mitch assured him. “My life is full. I have no complaints.”

      Uncle Ray looked at him steadily. “You know I don’t interfere,