A Tender Touch. Lenora Worth

      I loved Gary so much, Lord. But that love hadn’t been enough. Freddie had never felt as if her love was truly returned. Gary had always managed to find something wrong with her. He’d teased her about going to church, about how she was trying to raise their son to be less violent than his father and uncle and grandfather.

      “You treat him like a baby, Freddie. He has to learn to be a man.”

      A man like his father? she wondered now. She wouldn’t let that happen. And since Gary’s family had treated her as if she’d been the one to pull the trigger that night, Freddie had felt compelled to get her son away from the Hayes clan back in Dallas. They hadn’t liked it, had threatened her with custody battles and all sorts of dire consequences, but in the end, Ryan’s grandmother, Pearl Hayes, had calmed her husband and her son down enough to make them see that Ryan belonged with his mother. Yet Freddie couldn’t forget the open hostility in Pearl’s eyes the last time she’d seen her. Since then, she’d been waiting and wondering if they’d try to make good on their threats.

      So far, so good. No news was good news wherever the Hayes bunch was concerned.

      She glanced back at Ryan. She had to shield him from the kind of violence his father had thrived on. She had to teach him to stand up for the things he believed in, without sacrificing his soul to the evils of the world, the way his father had. Gary had been a bad cop, as corrupt and conniving as the thugs he put in jail every day. She was pretty sure that’s why he’d died in such a horrible way. And she was pretty sure Gary had learned it from Ned Hayes. Ned had taught his two sons to be domineering and macho. She couldn’t let Ryan become that way. In her heart, she knew Ryan could be a good man, like her father, Wade Noble, if she taught him the lessons from the Bible. The same lessons her parents had taught her.

      I won’t let him be tempted, Lord. I’ll try to teach him the right way to be a man.

      She’d already taken Ryan to church here. That’s how she’d met Rock and Ana. Rock had helped her so much when she’d first come to the island. Freddie intended to make sure her son had a solid foundation, a foundation built on the strength of Christ, and not the things her husband had craved and wanted.

      But where is your strength? she asked herself. When are you going to be able to trust God again?

      I’m trying, Lord. She’d brought her child here to this tiny island because it was about as far away from Dallas as she could get. She’d found the ad for the clinic while sending out résumés on the Internet and got an interview with Dr. Bates. Somehow with her father’s help, she had managed to swing the loan for the down payment, then she’d signed a contract to lease the clinic with an option to buy it. After that, she’d packed up a few things and she and Ryan had driven until they’d reached the ocean. But was it far enough away? Could she ever escape the memories of her failed marriage and the bitter in-laws she’d left behind?

      Could she ever escape the guilt, the nagging thought that maybe Gary’s parents and brother were right? That she had somehow contributed to his death?

      “I need a new life,” Freddie said into the growing dusk. The wind lifted her long braid away from her shoulder. She tossed her head, about to call Ryan in for the day when she heard a distinctive running, the sound of four paws hitting wet sand, the bark of an excited dog.

      Samson.

      Then she saw Clay Dempsey walking up the beach toward her, his grin full of surprise, his eyes full of hope.

      Freddie didn’t have any hope to give him. She couldn’t encourage his tender attention. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Shouldn’t.

      And yet, his smile beckoned her like a warm wash of cleansing water, pure and complete and intoxicating.

      Clay Dempsey was irresistible.

      But Freddie refused to be tempted.

      She looked mighty tempting, sitting there in her cutoff blue jean shorts and floral tank top. Freddie waved to him, but Clay could see the hesitant look in her dark eyes. Was she glad to see him? Or mad that he’d accidentally found her here on the beach?

      He waved back, careful not to look too eager.

      Samson, however, wasn’t so subtle. The dog raced toward Freddie, his bark one of “Hello” and “You’re the pretty lady who’s going to help me.” Then Samson looked back at Clay, as if to say “Look, dummy, it’s Freddie. Hurry up, will you?”

      “Mommy, a doggie!”

      Clay glanced at the little boy running toward Freddie, then called out a command to Samson. He didn’t think Samson would hurt the boy, but Samson still wasn’t back to one hundred percent, and if the boy accidentally hit on Samson’s tender spot, the dog might snap at him purely out of self-defense.

      “Ryan, you know you don’t pet a dog without his owner’s permission,” Freddie cautioned as Ryan hurried toward Samson.

      Both the boy and the dog stopped, obeying directions, both looking toward the man and woman with them, waiting for the sign to continue.

      “Samson, easy,” Clay told the dog. Samson held back his enthusiasm, alerted to the little boy.

      “Ryan, this is Samson and his human friend, Clay,” Freddie explained as her son came up to stand beside her. “Samson was hurt a few months ago, honey, so you have to be very gentle when you touch him. And you are only allowed to touch him if Clay tells you it’s okay.”

      “All right, Mommy,” the little boy said, his big blue eyes practically imploring Clay to let him pet the dog.

      “It’s okay,” Clay said as he came up to stand beside Samson. “Samson, sit,” Clay commanded. Samson sat down on his back legs, then tossed Clay an expectant glance over his left ear. “Ryan, you can pet him on the top of his head.”

      “Be gentle,” Freddie said again, her eyes touching on Clay’s face with gratitude. “Samson is a—” she stopped, gave Clay a hard look “—he’s a K-9 dog.”

      “A police dog?” Ryan said as he gingerly laid a hand on Samson’s head between the dog’s ears. “My daddy was a policeman, wasn’t he, Mommy?”

      Clay’s eyes never left Freddie’s face. And he saw it all there in her reaction. Saw why she seemed so hesitant around him. “Yes, your daddy was a policeman,” she said to her son, her expression still fixed and hard, while her eyes asked Clay to understand.

      Ryan looked up at Clay. “My daddy went to heaven.”

      Surprised, Clay gave Freddie a sympathetic look, then bent down on one knee next to the boy. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ryan. Being a policeman is a hard job. Samson and I needed a break because we both got hurt at work. I’m sure your daddy was a real hero.”

      “Yeah, that’s what Grandpa Ned used to tell me,” Ryan said, his little hand still stroking Samson. The dog sat still and watched quietly. “I miss Grandpa Ned and Grandma Pearl. And Uncle Todd.” He turned to his mother. “Do you think they could come visit us?”

      Clay saw a cloud of fear moving through Freddie’s dark eyes. “I’m not sure, baby. They live a long way from here and they both work very hard.”

      Ryan looked up at her through a fringe of dark bangs. “Catching bad guys?”

      “Yes,” she said, that same hesitant nature causing her voice to go low. “Catching bad guys.” Then she ruffled Ryan’s hair. “But remember, we only live a couple of hours away from your other grandfather, my daddy.”

      “Grandpa Wade,” Ryan said, excitement causing him to almost stumble over on the sand. “We can visit him!”

      Samson watched the boy intensely, but stayed in a sitting position. Freddie Hayes held her own position, not looking to budge anytime soon from her disturbing stance.

      Clay stood as her hesitancy turned to hostility while the sun turned to a rich golden globe to the west,