A Love for Safekeeping

  “I always thought I wanted a big family, lots of kids of my own,” Jane told Kyle.

  “So? Where are they?”

  “Growing up, I changed my mind.”

  “Why?”

  The icy sensation swam through her again. “My mom and dad had a strange marriage. Not very loving. I didn’t notice until I was older. Marriage scared me, I suppose.”

  “Scared or scares?” His eyebrows arched, and he leaned forward, waiting for a response.

  No sense in lying. “Scares, I guess.”

  His gaze riveted to hers. “How can you tell if the man you’re marrying will be loving and gentle forever?”

  “Exactly.” She was astounded by his perception. “How does a person know?”

  “Trust. Faith. Support. Prayer.”

  Books by Gail Gaymer Martin

  Love Inspired

  Upon a Midnight Clear #117

  Secrets of the Heart #147

  A Love for Safekeeping #161

  GAIL GAYMER MARTIN

  lives in front of her computer in Lathrup Village, Michigan, with her real-life hero, Bob. Growing up in nearby Madison Heights, Gail wrote poems and stories as a child. In her preteens she progressed to Nancy Drew–type mysteries. Apparently the love for suspense continued, since today she enjoys weaving mystery and suspense throughout her romances.

  Gail is multipublished in nonfiction and fiction, with nine novels, five novellas and many more to come. Her Love Inspired novel, Upon a Midnight Clear (10/00), won a Holt Medallion in 2001. Besides writing, Gail enjoys singing, public speaking and presenting writers’ workshops. She believes that God’s gift of humor gets her through even the darkest moments and praises God for His blessings.

  She loves to hear from her readers. Please visit her Web site at www.gailmartin.com or write to her at P.O. Box 760063, Lathrup Village MI, 48076.

  A Love for Safekeeping

  Gail Gaymer Martin

  The Lord is my light and my salvation—

  whom shall I fear?

  The Lord is the stronghold of my life—

  of whom shall I be afraid?

  —Psalms 27:1

  To: Kelly and Amanda

  Thanks to: Birmingham Police Department

  coordinator Frank Grant, Lathrup Village Police

  clerk Patricia Christ and author Carol Steward

  for answering my police questions,

  and nurse Joe Fernandez,

  who answered my medical questions

  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

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Letter to Reader

  Chapter One

  “Why?”

  Jane Conroy asked herself the same question a hundred times as she peered at her vandalized classroom and cringed at the crunch of glass beneath her feet. Two wide windows stood with shattered panes, their glass slivered on the wide marble sill and scattered across the floor. Textbooks lay in jumbled heaps around the room, and student desks had been strewn topsy-turvy.

  Staring at the filthy graffiti covering the cream-colored walls, Jane clenched her fists. Anger and frustration vied for first place inside her. Her second day at Jackson Elementary, and she’d been violated.

  Norm Skylar, her principal, compounded her wavering emotions. Since she’d reported the damage, he had treated her like a used tissue, something he’d like to discard and forget. And at the moment she felt about as useless.

  New to the staff, she expected her principal’s support rather than his condescending attitude—especially since her few weeks back in town hadn’t given her enough time to offend a soul. Garnering her courage, she’d expressed those exact sentiments to him, but he didn’t seem to listen…or care.

  Skylar’s reedy voice attacked her ear as he spoke in confidential tones with Kirk Brown from the central office, then glanced toward her with his placating glower.

  To avoid his frown, Jane wandered to the teacher’s desk and stared down at the floor, disheartened by the contents of her well-organized drawers now spread across the tile like trash. Crouching, she reached out to gather the glass-spattered supplies, but was jolted by Skylar’s bark that shattered her solitude.

  “Miss Conroy, leave that, please.”

  Like a reprimanded child, she snatched her hand from the heap of notepads. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she fell back on her heels and stood.

  Skylar’s frown nailed her to the spot. “The police will be here in a few minutes. When they’re gone, you can pick up your things.” Pinching his thin lower lip between his fingers, he pivoted back to his hushed conversation.

  Police. Images swirled in her thoughts, and she cringed. Visions of the familiar policeman’s uniform jackknifed her father’s angry face into her memory. The defilement of her room wasn’t enough. Now the debasing memories intruded on her morning.

  Pushing the thoughts from her mind, Jane wandered toward the door to escape Skylar. With her thoughts miles away, she swung through the doorway and thudded into a broad blue-uniformed chest. With her nose against the badge, she froze, reliving her childhood panic. But when she raised her head, she focused on a pair of amused blue eyes set in a sturdy, handsome face.

  “Excuse me,” the officer said. His square jaw relaxed to a pleasant smile.

  She collected herself. “My fault. I wasn’t looking.” But she certainly was now, marveling at his strapping size—tall and broad shouldered with an expansive chest.

  Gaping at him, Jane realized neither of them had moved. Her cheeks tingled with rising heat, and she fumbled through her thoughts for a coherent sentence. “You’re looking for the principal.” She gestured toward Skylar, who stared in their direction.

  Jane stepped aside to let the officer pass, but to her discomfort he shifted in the same direction. With a grimace, she shifted again, and he followed. They were like two people learning the Texas two-step. Addled, she stared at their toe-to-toe shoes, unable to look him in the eye.

  In a flash, his hand rested on her shoulder. “You stay put, and I’ll step around you, otherwise we may dance all morning.”

  Flustered by his touch, she held her place, riveted to the floor. When he passed her, she turned to watch him stride across the broken glass toward Skylar, who peered in their direction with thin, pursed lips.

  When the officer reached Skylar’s side, Kirk Brown said goodbye, shot past her and vanished through the doorway.

  Jane stood back, watching as they discussed the break-in. Then, with a blast of expelled breath, Skylar headed toward the doorway. “I’ll get someone on this shortly,” he said to her with a nod to the disheveled room.

  Jane followed him. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Without comment, he turned and spoke to the officer. “You’re through with me?”

  “Right,” the policeman said.

  Skylar shifted his focus to Jane. “Find another room to work in until we get this cleaned up.” He pivoted, gesturing into the air. “I don’t know why these things happen to me.”

  Wondering what to do and where to go, Jane steadied herself amid the debris while the officer stood motionless across the room.

  “I’m not sure where to begin,” she
said, gathering her bearings.

  “Whatever you do, be careful of the glass.” He sauntered toward her, then squatted and gathered a stack of file folders. He rose and placed them on her desk.

  “Thanks. What can I do here?” she asked, gesturing to the clutter. The sunlight caught the prisms of shattered glass like sparkling fairy dust. “If I clean this mess, will I destroy the fingerprints?”

  His silence turned into a chuckle. “I think you’re safe. On a big heist like this one, we just check our list of local juvenile offenders.”

  “Juveniles?”

  “That’s the usual.”

  “This was done by students? But why?” She ran her fingers through her hair, envisioning cherub-faced third graders spray painting filth on her walls. How could they dislike her? Students hadn’t attended yet. She’d only moved back to the Detroit area. Certainly, not enough time to upset anybody. “But it…but yesterday was my first day at Jackson.”

  “You mean this is the welcome you get? What about streamers and party balloons?” He gave her a playful wink. “Knowing you isn’t the issue. Kids just do things.”

  With frustration, she plucked a textbook from the floor. The man was trying to be friendly, but the uniform bothered her. She had to admit he seemed mild-mannered, playful even. Still, her defenses rose, unbidden.

  Avoiding the glass shards, she gathered the notepads and straightened. He hadn’t moved. Tension tightened in her neck. “Are you waiting for something?”

  “Not really.” His amused expression held its steady gaze.

  Jane’s stomach fluttered, and butterflies flitted through her limbs.

  “So you’re new in town.” He extended his hand. “I’m Kyle Manning…one of Redmond’s finest.”

  Tangled between interest and frustration, she grasped his strong fingers. “Jane Conroy. One of Jackson’s finest.”

  “I don’t doubt it for the world.” He gave her a long, steady look before he released his grasp. “Well,” he said, shifting his feet and resting on one heel. “I should hit the road and file this report.”

  “And I should salvage my supplies,” she said with a sweeping gesture.

  He strode toward the door, but before he stepped into the hall, he hesitated. “Now, do like the man said. Find another place to work before you cut yourself.” He gave her a wink. “Nice to meet you,” he said and went through the doorway.

  Jane stood for a moment staring after him, wishing he were anything but a police officer. She liked his gentle manner and his teasing way. The uniform and his behavior were a sad paradox.

  Growing up with her angry, explosive, police officer father had left Jane with one resolute promise. Never would she be involved with a man who carried a weapon or wore a badge. The thought bristled up her back while the young officer’s memory settled in her heart.

  She refocused on the floor and stooped to right a desk drawer, then gathered the paraphernalia scattered about her feet and placed it inside.

  “Now-ow…don’t cut yerself there.”

  Jane straightened with breakneck speed and threw her hand against her chest.

  A round-shouldered man in a gray work shirt and pants peered at her from the doorway. “I—I co-come to clean up the g-glass.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Jane said, peering at his hangdog eyes and loose-jowled face.

  He stepped into the room carrying a push broom in one hand and an oversized dust pan in the other. “Jus’ call me Ch-Charlie,” he said. Slack-jawed, he continued to watch her.

  Jane hurried to gather her books and material. His fixed gaze sent an unpleasant sensation riding up her spine.

  He leaned on the handle of the broom as if it were a crutch and watched her. “Jus’ run a-along when you’re—you’re ready.”

  That’s exactly what she wanted to do. She piled the books into her arms and scurried to the door. When she hit the hallway, she paused, then headed toward the teacher’s lounge.

  The room was empty except for an olive-skinned young woman with a full head of shiny, black hair.

  Looking up from her poised pen, she smiled. “Hi. Have a seat.” She gestured to the chair next to her. “I’m Celia Lopez. Welcome to Jackson Elementary.”

  “Jane Conroy. Thanks.” The woman’s sincere smile eased her with a calming effect.

  “There’s coffee on the counter.” Celia pointed to a small alcove kitchen.

  “Thanks. Maybe later.” Jane piled her books on the round table and slid onto a chair.

  “What a way to start your year, huh?”

  Jane nodded. Except for Kyle coming to her aid, her confidence had been as sabotaged as her classroom.

  “We’re hall partners. Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to talk with you yesterday,” Celia said. “My room’s next to yours.”

  Her classroom shivered through her mind, images of destruction and violence. “I feel so violated.”

  Celia frowned. “They didn’t touch my room. I never understand why that happens.”

  Jane shrugged, wondering if this were God’s punishment for her struggling faith.

  Celia gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder, then lifted her coffee mug and sipped the pungent brew. “So what’s happening with your room?”

  “Charlie’s sweeping up the glass.”

  “Good old Charlie,” Celia said. “He’s a mite slow, but the kids like him.”

  Jane agreed about the “mite slow.” She shifted the stack of books in front of her to avoid speaking aloud.

  Celia lowered her dark eyes and returned to her work. Silence fell over the room as Jane opened the lesson planning book with the intention of reviewing the material for tomorrow’s first half day with her students.

  But instead, Kyle Manning’s image drifted into her mind. His friendly smile and teasing blue eyes shimmered in her thoughts like sunshine, but reality poked her again. The image of his uniform dropped a barricade against her warm thoughts.

  Time ticked silently past. Finally Celia rose and piled her books into a stack. “Guess I’ll get back to my room.” She flashed an understanding grin. “At least I have one. Nice to meet you, Jane.”

  “Same here,” Jane said, tugging her attention back to the textbook. But again her undisciplined thoughts reenacted her disconcerting earlier meeting with Kyle.

  For years she’d watched her mother cower against her dad’s angry words. Her Christian mother had raised her to trust in the Lord, but when Jane had called to God in her fear and confusion, she’d received no answer. Now her faith flagged and a challenging question surfaced: Why did God allow anger and violence to ruin the world?

  With friendly greetings, teachers drifted in and out of the lounge, but the morning and afternoon dragged. Finally the wall clock hand’s pointed to four. Jane stood and stretched, bracing her back with her palms.

  When the door flew open, Jane looked up in surprise.

  Celia paused in the threshold. “How would you like to join me for dinner somewhere?”

  With no old friendships renewed, Jane longed for company. Without hesitating, she accepted the invitation.

  “Great,” Celia said. “I need to stop at the Teacher’s Pet and pick up a few bulletin board supplies. Do you mind?”

  “That’s fine with me.”

  “Whenever you’re ready, then, let me know.” She swung open the door and paused. “Oh, have you checked your classroom? It looks almost finished.” She grinned. “Just holler when you’re ready.”

  Celia vanished, and Jane gathered her belongings, then headed down the hall to check her classroom. For the first time since she’d returned to Redmond, she felt adventuresome and optimistic. Her work would fill her time, and maybe Celia would become a friend.

  Then Kyle nudged her thoughts. Never. A friendship with him was not possible.

  Kyle couldn’t believe his good fortune. As he stood at the restaurant entrance, Jane’s bright curls caught his attention like a red flag. Glancing down at his jeans and a knit shirt, he wondered if she�
��d recognize him in his “civvies.”

  He’d spent the afternoon speculating how he might see Jane again, and seeing her across the room answered his question. Though they’d only talked briefly, she beckoned to his emotions. Maybe it was her uncertainty, or the faint flush that washed across her rounded cheekbones. She seemed shy. Or maybe lonely.

  Perhaps his “rescuer” MO drew her to him. Whatever, he hadn’t been interested in anyone particular in a long time. That morning, Jane Conroy had tugged at his heartstrings.

  Hoping he wouldn’t appear forward, he maneuvered around the crowded tables in her direction. The diner’s unadorned decor seemed brightened by the petite redhead sitting in a back booth. When he reached her side, the young woman with her lifted a curious eyebrow. He gave her a friendly nod and tapped his finger on Jane’s shoulder.

  She pivoted and looked at him with a puzzled frown. Then she drew in a deep breath, and the confusion in her sea-green eyes melted to surprise. “Oh, it’s…you.” A soft flush rose on her cheeks “I didn’t recognize you without the uniform.”

  He winked, watching her flush deepen. “Undercover,” he whispered. “I’m tailing you.”

  Wide-eyed, Jane studied him. “I like you better dressed this way.”

  He sensed something cryptic in her words. While he tried to sort out what she meant, Jane motioned toward her friend with the black hair and dark eyes.

  “Celia, this is Kyle Manning,” she said. “Kyle, Celia Lopez. She teaches second grade.”

  “Second grade. Well, now.” Kyle grinned.

  Celia leaned toward him. “Do you have recollections of second grade, Mr. Manning? If you’d care to join us, I’d be happy to listen.”

  Her flirtation was obvious. Kyle accepted the invitation, but instead of joining her he slid into the booth beside Jane.