Home to Safe Harbor. Kate Welsh

in a safer environment.

      And he’d been right. Here in Safe Harbor he didn’t have to worry as much. Everyone knew everyone else. Tourists were welcome but noticed, as well. His girls were safer in their new town. Much safer. They’d be happy here. He’d make sure of it.

      Leslie Trent stopped at the trash can between the high school and the elementary school to ditch her lunch. She’d lost fifteen pounds in two weeks. She smiled. That had to be some kind of record! She might even post it on the chat room she’d found last night. She looked around but there were too many people watching. She’d been warned on the Web site to watch for witnesses and not to trust anyone. She’d toss the bag away in the bathroom at the station house. That would be better.

      “Fatty fatty the big bad pig’s her Daddy,” Alan Tobridge shouted as he drove past with his friends. She hated him, and she hated this town.

      But at least Alan Tobridge would have to eat his words soon. This morning after her shower she’d noticed her ribs showing in really great definition, just like the Web site promised. She was getting good definition around her hip bones, too. It was so easy. She just didn’t eat. Like the Web site said, she was in control of what went into her mouth even if she had to lie and sneak around to keep that control. It was so great to be able to do something about a part of her life she didn’t like.

      Everything else might be out of her control, but this wasn’t. Now all the pants she’d grown out of last year fit again, and pretty soon, when they were too big, she’d get her dad to take her shopping. He’d never notice what size she was buying. Her dad was such a man when it came to clothes.

      She rolled her eyes. Lately she’d begun to think he wasn’t too bright about anything. Like moving them to the sticks for a better life. Better life? The kids here looked at her like a bug under a microscope or part of an alien invasion. She hadn’t made one single friend at school, but how could she tell that to her dad? Everyone loved her dad the moment they met him.

      She hadn’t seen Nanna and Grandpa for nearly three months, either. Not since they’d argued with her father about the move to Safe Harbor. He was dumb about that night, too. He didn’t think she’d heard the things they’d said because she was in bed, but it was he who hadn’t been listening. They’d said smart things like, sure, it was scary what happened to Cindy but the guy hadn’t gotten away. And that her dad was leaving a great career with a great future to be a plain old cop in the sticks. All he kept saying was that she and Cindy and Gina were his kids and he’d do what he thought was best for them. And that Nanna and Grandpa had betrayed his trust. Just because they didn’t agree with him and had asked the kids to live with them? When had her dad gotten so over-sensitive?

      Cindy and Gina came out of the school a few minutes later. After she’d made sure they both had all the books they needed to do their homework, they walked along the footpath from the school to the police station so Daddy could drive them home.

      There was a path through the woods that led to Haven Hills where their new house was, but he wouldn’t let them use it. Apparently walking in the woods was too dangerous. So why did he move them to the sticks and away from Green Bay, where there were sidewalks to everywhere?

      When they got to the station house, Leslie stopped at the front window to inspect her reflection. She still looked fat. Maybe another five or ten pounds would do the trick. She’d get dinner all ready again and tell Dad she’d eaten while she cooked, so she could get to her homework while he and the girls ate. He’d always believed her so far. Maybe she’d skip dinner every night. It would be worth the extra work of cooking dinner alone if she got away with skipping eating. That would have her down to one meal a day.

      Good thing her dad was so out of it lately.

      Chapter Three

      After delivering the Harkins children to their respective classrooms, Justine walked back to the table in the church hall where she signed up the new arrivals to After-School Days. She couldn’t believe the positive response to the program. In just three weeks it had made a positive change in the community. She’d known there were several members of the Women’s League and First Peninsula Church who were worried about the rising cost of after-school care, or about leaving their older children home alone or watching their younger siblings during those last hours of the workday. She’d known, but still she hadn’t expected to have this many of Safe Harbor’s children signed up.

      A former latchkey kid herself, she knew firsthand about the loneliness of those late-afternoon hours and the pressure from peers. A house without parents was often the “party house,” whether the adolescent in residence wanted it to be or not.

      “This is just plain dumb, Daddy,” Leslie Trent complained as the Trent clan tramped down the steps to the church hall. “You said I’m taking good care of Cindy and Gina. I’m really insulted by this.”

      “So you’ve said. I told you, sweetheart, I think you take excellent care of them. I’m just worried that you shouldn’t have to. I’ve put too much on your shoulders lately.”

      “But I like taking care of them.”

      “Look, humor your old dad. This is the time of your life you should be enjoying yourself. Give it a couple weeks. Okay, princess?”

      “Are these new participants?” Justine said, forcing herself to sound thrilled. But inside, her stomach did a quick flip, then a slow roll. She was going to have a living, breathing reminder of Matthew Trent every day—three of them, in fact. He already invaded her dreams. Broke her concentration. And worse, battered at the walls surrounding her heart with his obvious devotion to his little girls. Now she was doomed to witness the love he showed them, every day except Saturday.

      Why are You doing this to me, Lord?

      “I’m sure you remember Gina. She’s in all-day kindergarten,” Matt said as he put a hand lovingly on Gina’s head, then moved the caress to his nexteldest child. “This is Cindy. She’s in fourth grade. And last but first in the family is Leslie, who doesn’t think she needs to be here.”

      Justine filled in the girls’ sign-up sheets. “Well,” she said, and took a deep calming breath, which unfortunately drew in the scent of Matt’s aftershave, “I guess we’ll have to do our best to change your mind, Leslie. Welcome to After-School Days, all three of you. Several of our senior citizens have volunteered to help the older kids with homework. We also got a donation of several computers, and I had high-speed Internet hooked up today so you can do research for school projects. We also have a cooperative agreement with the library. Miss Neal will be taking a group over there almost every day, so that’s a possibility, too. You just have to sign up for either when you need it. Everyone will take turns.”

      She turned to look at the still-mutinous Leslie. “If you really like working with younger children, Leslie, several of the older high school girls have volunteered to help the younger children with homework and to assist in those rooms with general mayhem-control. I’m sure your help would be greatly appreciated.”

      That, at least, got a small smile from the girl. Feeling like a comedian trying to win over a tough crowd, Justine went on. “And we got a wonderful surprise today. Monica Tobridge came by and asked if I’d like her to run a cheerleading class even though she isn’t a church member. The sign-up sheet is over on the bulletin board.”

      “Her brother’s a creep,” Leslie muttered.

      “Yeah. He sometimes yells mean stuff at us,” Cindy put in. Leslie poked her.

      “I guess it’s good to know it isn’t just an adult sentiment,” Justine said quickly.

      Matt’s gaze was blazing. Young Mr. Tobridge had singled out the wrong man’s children to pick on. It looked as if Alan would have another lesson taught him in the next few weeks.

      “Hopefully he’ll improve soon, but don’t judge Monica by Alan,” she told the children. “Now, your rooms will be the same as your regular Sunday school rooms. Why don’t we get you settled.”

      “Les,