A Family for Faith. Missy Tippens

knew a whole lot about strong-willed children. She’d tried to raise one and had struggled the whole time. “You can’t be too hard on Chelsea or she might rebel.”

      Memories of Ben storming out of the house—and stumbling back in—brought a wave of nausea. Who was she, a total failure at motherhood, to give advice?

      He stared into her eyes as if he was thinking it over. But then the staring went on just a moment too long and she felt like she was being examined. Could he see through to the real Faith Hagin?

      She tightened her ponytail as the chirping of the cicadas crescendoed in the otherwise silent night. She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans to keep from fidgeting. “What?”

      “I’m just trying to figure out if you wear makeup.”

      Makeup? “I, uh, don’t usually wear makeup. It’s too much trouble when I have to go to work so early. But I did put on a little for church this morning.”

      He stepped closer, gently took hold of her chin and tilted her face up so he could see better in the porch light. But his touch didn’t linger and he acted surprised to have done it.

      She backed up a step. “I could teach Chelsea how to apply basic cosmetics—enough to appease her.” Faith’s face blazed with heat, especially where he’d touched her.

      His dark brown eyes bore into hers, as if he still held her under a microscope. A searing blush crept to her chest and seemed to squeeze her heart.

      He finally blinked and stepped back toward the door. “You’re a natural beauty. I don’t see much difference between most days and Sunday.”

      His matter-of-fact declaration made her heart skip a beat or two.

      Before she could put two coherent words together, he shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but no. I’m not going to give on the makeup issue.” Scattered thoughts—he thinks I’m a natural beauty?—ricocheted around in her head. But she managed to refocus on Chelsea. “She’s almost a teenager, Gabe. You’ll have to start letting go eventually.”

      He straightened up into his big, bad Chief of Police stance. “She’s my daughter. I know what’s best for her.”

      And she’d thought she’d known what was best for her son. She’d been very protective of him, too. Trying to make sure he didn’t go down the drinking-and-partying path his dad had gone down many years before. But her controlling had pushed Ben in the opposite direction.

      For some reason, she needed to make Gabe understand. “Yes, you do know what’s best. But sometimes, knowing best doesn’t matter. If we smother them and don’t give them room to become independent, we set them up to make bad decisions.”

      He studied her through squinted eyes, this time with suspicion. “You sound like you speak from experience.”

      “Yeah. I’d been left by my dad and my husband and thought if I worked hard enough I could hang on to my son. But it pushed him right into a group of friends who were an awful influence.”

      She snapped her mouth shut before she revealed more. The townspeople knew Ben lived with his dad and that he was too busy with sports to come visit. But she’d never shared with anyone the details of her son’s problems in middle school, about his begging to live with his dad in Atlanta—about how he thrived once he moved there. When she moved to Corinthia a year ago to be closer to Ben, it was also to get away from the years of strange looks from former friends, to get away from the sideways glances. What’s wrong with Faith that her son did so poorly in her care, then had a complete turnaround when he got away from her?

      “I’m sorry, Faith. I didn’t realize all you’ve been through,” he said. “I’ll keep your advice in mind.”

      She’d promised Chelsea she’d try to talk to him and she had. Duty fulfilled. “Okay, then. Good night.” She hurried down the porch stairs and along the front walk. By the time she reached the grass between their houses, she heard footsteps behind her.

      “Hold up a second, Faith.” When Gabe reached her, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look, I’m sorry. I appreciate your offer to help. I do. But…” He looked at his feet. At the sky. At her house. “I know you’re right about Chelsea. In my head, I know it. But in here—” he thumped a fist on his chest “—I can’t go there yet.”

      Her heart ached at the look of pain on his face. “Children can do that to the best of us.”

      “Yeah.” He rocked back on his heels. “I guess I actually could use your help. Some female guidance for Chelsea since she’s been pushing for independence. I’ve got to do something. I can’t let her…” His voice hitched.

      Why, Lord? Why get me involved in this? She wished she could simply tell him good luck and turn away. But as if God Himself were forcing the words out of her mouth, she said, “What can I do?”

      The breath huffed out of him and his tense expression eased. He laughed. “I have no idea.”

      His smile ravaged her already tender nerves. She’d always thought he was handsome. Especially when in uniform. But seeing him in angst over his young daughter sent his attractiveness to a whole new level.

      “Well, I can tell you she was glowing with happiness after hanging out at the café tonight. Anything you can do to let her spend more time with friends will go a long way.”

      He crossed his arms as he digested that bit of information. “Have the kids her age been coming to the café this summer?”

      “Yes, some.”

      “Can Chels hang out with you one day this week?”

      Oh, I don’t think so was pushing at the edge of her lips. But the earnest look on his face snapped her lips tightly closed. Instead, she uttered, “Of course. How about tomorrow?”

      The strong, rugged man smiled, his nearly-black eyes beaming in the moonlight. He took hold of both her hands and gave a quick squeeze. “I appreciate your help.”

      What on earth was she doing? She should run in the other direction. She didn’t have any business taking a middle school girl under her wing. Chelsea was right about the age Ben had been when he started rebelling. Her kid with all A’s had done an about-face and had started on the slippery slope toward becoming a juvenile delinquent. And by the time Faith realized what was happening, she’d been too late to stop it.

      What if Faith failed with Chelsea, too? What if her advice to Gabe backfired?

      “I’ll bring her by during my lunch break tomorrow,” he said. “If that’s okay with you.”

      “Sure. Anytime.”

      “Good night, Faith.”

      His warm, deep voice brushed along her nerves, almost like a brush of his hand, soothing her.

      He was a kind man. A good father. A strong leader in the community.

      But he was hurting. Probably still grieving. Struggling with a strong-willed daughter.

      Okay, so it looked as if God may have put Faith in a position to help father and daughter. She would do what she could. But she better not fail this time.

      Chapter Two

      Gabe couldn’t resist. The next afternoon, a couple of hours after he dropped off Chelsea and traded cell phone numbers with Faith, he cruised by the coffee shop in his squad car and tried to get a glimpse of Chelsea, to see how it was going. Maybe buying her a cell phone with the stipulation she check in regularly wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

      Ever since Chelsea hit middle school, she’d been begging for the chance to stay home alone. And the previous Friday, he’d actually set the rarely used alarm system and left her alone. But it had been the longest two hours of his life. What if she falls…or burns herself or a stranger comes knocking?

      Letting