A Love for Safekeeping Page 3

  When the waitress delivered their meals, Jane bit into her deli sandwich, her mind whirring with questions. The mouthful settled in her stomach like a lump. “You had my students last year, didn’t you?”

  Celia nodded.

  “Did you have Lena Malik?”

  “Sure. Having problems?” She glanced up from her salad.

  “She’s a nice kid, but downgrades herself terribly. She refers to herself as ‘dumb.’ Any idea why?”

  “Wait until you meet her father.” She peered into Jane’s eyes “And you will.”

  Her father? Jane’s chest tightened, and a hunk of bread lodged in her throat.

  “The kid’s afraid of Papa, I think,” Celia said. “Big bushy mustache, penetrating dark eyes. Not big in stature, but in presence. You’ll meet him.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  When they finished eating, they walked outside to a lighted parking lot. The autumn days had shortened and darkness settled into long shadows on the concrete.

  Celia stood outside the mall door. “Where did we park?”

  Jane looked over the dusky sea of automobiles. “I know where I parked. Back at the school. Where you parked is a good question.”

  They scanned the lot and agreed in a general direction. After wandering, they found Celia’s car, stowed their packages and headed back toward the school.

  “How about dropping me at the library?” Jane asked, checking her wristwatch. “It should still be open. I want to pick up a couple of books, and it’s only a block to the school. I can walk to my car.”

  “Are you sure? I can wait.”

  “No, that’s silly. I’ll be a few minutes. I need the exercise anyway.”

  Celia didn’t argue, and in a few moments they pulled in front of the library. Celia tugged on the trunk latch as Jane climbed from the car and pulled out her three shopping bags, then rapped on the window.

  Celia lowered it a few inches.

  “Thanks for the nice evening,” Jane said.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  Jane nodded, plastering a confident expression on her face.

  Dreary thoughts had edged into Jane’s mind during dinner. She sensed someone watching her, but when she glanced around she saw nothing unusual. Then she chided herself for being silly. Her vandalized classroom and the flat tires had set her on edge. But she bolstered her courage. “Thanks, I’ll be fine.”

  Celia waved and pulled away.

  As Jane turned toward the library, an overwhelming feeling of uneasiness ran through her. She breathed deeply and glanced around her. Shadows lengthened along the walk, but the street looked quiet and safe. She ran her free hand through her hair, thrust out her chin, pulled back her shoulders, then hurried into the library.

  Jane left her packages with the librarian who stored them without complaint. Jane moved along through the book stacks, following the Dewey decimal numbers.

  Crafts. She needed ideas for her social studies unit. Or maybe some interesting true stories about historical figures the students would be studying. Whatever, she wanted to spice up her lessons. Keep the third graders interested, yet learning.

  She moved toward the back of the towering stacks. Kyle jutted into her thoughts, and she longed to have him at her side.

  Hurrying along, she found the 700s, pulled a book from the shelf and flipped through the pages. A shiver of fear ran through her. She spun around, scanning the adjacent aisles. Was someone watching her?

  She peered through gaps in the bookshelves, detecting someone peering at her from the next aisle.

  The book dropped from her fingers.

  She sprinted to the end of the stacks and with the fear of a frightened bird, her eyes shifted and her heart hammered against her chest. The aisle stood empty.

  A ragged breath tore through her. Imagination. She had let the situation get the better of her. She was foolish. Returning to the shelf, she snatched up the book she’d dropped and carried it with her.

  With her eyes panning like a searchlight, Jane selected a few books and, controlling her tremors, carried them to the checkout counter. As the librarian processed the books, Jane modulated her voice. “Did you see a man pass a couple of minutes ago?”

  “A man?” She glanced at Jane. “Not that I recall.” She stuck her books through the computerized system, slapping the covers closed, and slid them across the counter to Jane.

  When she stepped away, the librarian called her back. “Your packages.” She reached under the counter, pulled the three bags from below and handed them to her.

  Jane thanked her and headed toward the exit. Yet, as she approached the door, she paused. Darkness shrouded everything beyond the library lights. Tonight she needed her faith, a faith that had kept her strong through so many difficult times during her childhood. But she’d discarded her trust in God, determined to deal with life by herself. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

  Descending the three stairs to the sidewalk, Jane turned toward the elementary school and her car. With swiftness she stepped along, passing beyond the comforting lights.

  Darkness blanketed her. Her heels clicked along the cement sidewalk, and her chest tightened with each stride as she gained momentum.

  Movement sounded behind her, a muffled footfall in the grass. A sound like the snapping of a branch struck her ear. She faltered and glimpsed over her shoulder. Nothing. Was it her imagination?

  Picking up speed, her legs stretched until she was running. Yet, amid the rustling of her shopping bags, a distinct sound echoed behind her. Fearful, she swung around to see a dark shadow dart into an alleyway.

  Her heart jackhammered, and panic knotted every nerve. Flying along the sidewalk, her chest ached. The rustled footsteps continued a short distance behind.

  The school loomed in front of her, and her car waited at the side of the building. She dashed around the corner. The sedan’s silhouette rose ahead of her. Her own gasps filled her ears.

  Her door remote?

  She plunged her hand into her pocket, grateful to feel her keys nestled safely inside. With a fleeting glance over her shoulder, she raised her keyless remote, hit the button and heard the comfortable beep.

  With her uncontrolled momentum, she thudded against the car door. In the faint light, she groped along the cold metal and grasped the door handle as a shadow fell across her arm.

  A hand clamped down on her shoulder.

  A scream tore from her throat.

  Chapter Three

  “Miss Conroy, what’s wrong with you?”

  Jane flung out an elbow and flattened her back against the car, her breath coming in gasps. She gaped into her principal’s shadowed face. “Mr. Skylar, y-you scared me. What—what are you doing here?” She squinted into the darkness.

  “What are you doing? I’m going to my car.” He held a briefcase in front of her face in the dim light. “I forgot my work.”

  She cringed. “I’m sorry. Someone was—was following me.”

  Skylar scanned the darkness. “Following you? I don’t see anyone. I think your imagination has gotten the better of you, Miss Conroy.”

  “No, not my imagination.” She raised her fist to her pounding heart. “I stopped at the library, and I’m positive…I was followed. I think someone was watching me in the library.”

  “If you went to the library, why are you parked here?” He peered at her in the faint light.

  She explained, but his attitude suggested she had done something wrong. “It’s only a short walk from the library to the school.”

  “It’s been a long day, Miss Conroy. I’ll wait here until you get into your car. How’s that?”

  She nodded, but his patronizing tone frustrated her. She opened the door, and when the dome light brightened the interior, she glanced into the back seat. Empty. She slid inside and locked the door.

  Skylar followed her on foot while she rolled slowly through the parking lot. Before she pulled onto the highway, she halted. In the brighte
r streetlight, she saw him shake his head as if she were a blithering idiot.

  Could Norm Skylar have been chasing her? Logic said no. He wasn’t out of breath as she had been, but how had he sneaked up on her? Why hadn’t he called out when he saw her running? A multitude of questions rattled inside her head.

  Peering into the darkness, Jane searched for an automobile that might be following her. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But how could she know for sure? Pulling into her driveway, she braked and froze. Staring at her front door, she was gripped by fear.

  Jane grasped the house key and mentally measured the distance. How long would it take to get inside? Her packages and books could stay there until morning. But how long for her to turn the key and get inside?

  Shadows muted the ground, and only a shrouded moon shed a dim light against the house. The shrubs and trees could hide anyone. She glanced over her shoulder and squinted into her yard, her heart pounding like a judge’s gavel to bring order to her wavering world.

  “Oh Lord, help me.” Despite her lack of active prayer in the past years, the words tumbled from her lips without thought in times of trouble. And though she thought God found her hopeless, she knew the Lord listened.

  Headlights inched down the road. Jane’s heart rose to her throat, her breath stifled in her chest. As the car neared, she recognized the bubble on top, and a stream of halted air shot from her lungs. Could it be? She waited, her blood coursing.

  The squad car swung into her driveway, and when the headlights faded, Kyle’s face brightened the darkness through the windshield. Why had he come? She knew. He was her prayer—answered. He stepped from the car, and Jane flung open her door and barreled into his arms.

  He held her against his chest. “Jane, what’s wrong? Why were you sitting in the car?”

  “I was too petrified to get out. I’m so grateful you showed up.” Her gasps pounded against her ears.

  “What happened?”

  He held her closer, and a sense of safety calmed her. As a child, her mother’s comforting arms had protected her. The memories washed over her like a sad lullaby.

  Catching her breath, Jane began her story. Kyle listened in silence while he gathered her books and packages, then followed her into the house.

  She crumbled into a nearby chair, her anxiety rising again. “I don’t understand this, Kyle.”

  “Are you sure someone followed you?”

  “I might have a vivid imagination, but not that vivid. Someone followed me.”

  A frown wrinkled his smooth forehead, and he held her in his gaze as he sat.

  “I’m positive,” she said again, dragging her fingers through her hair and hoping to see his face filled with understanding. Instead, he looked dubious.

  “Did you think it might have been a library patron? Just a coincidence?”

  “Why do you think it’s a coincidence? You explained the classroom away, but how about my tires? Sure, in the library stacks, I could be wrong, but not on the street. I knew he was following me. I was scared to death.”

  “Did you catch any details? Was it a male?”

  “I think. He was tall…like you.” A sigh shuddered through her. “I was running. I know he was following me.”

  Kyle patted her hand. “Jane, I think you have a bad case of nerves. The tires made you edgy, and now you’re imagining all kinds of things.”

  “Do you think I’m a lunatic? I know when someone follows me. I’m not crazy, Kyle.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. Someone may have been behind you for a perfectly logical reason. You saw what you saw, but the man wasn’t necessarily following you.”

  She closed her eyes to ease the pounding in her head. How could she explain? She was so sure. Yet…Kyle was experienced, and he…

  A sigh of resignation escaped her. “Maybe you’re right. I even suspected Norm Skylar when he scared me in the school parking lot. I don’t understand. I’ve never been a wimp.”

  He gave her arm a squeeze and rose. “You’re not a wimp. Everyone gets frightened on occasion. Even me.”

  She couldn’t imagine him frightened. But she was. “Could you wait a minute while I get my head together?”

  “Sure. Take all the time you need.”

  Her eyes filled with gratitude, and Kyle watched her as she headed down the hall. He plopped his back against the love seat cushion and gazed around the room—feminine, but practical. Cozy, he’d call it.

  His thoughts drifted to Jane’s situation. Could he be wrong? Her room was vandalized by kids. The tires? He didn’t know for sure. And now the stalker. Could the man have been some innocent guy heading home or…could she be correct? Was it—

  “Whoa!” The word shot from his mouth, and he jerked backward as an object plopped into his lap. His heart raced, far over the speed limit. He struggled to gain composure while the culprit purred up at him.

  Embarrassed at his reaction, he caught his breath and grinned at the furry creature in his lap. “You must be Wilcox. You scared me, man. I think I’ve caught a case of nerves from your mistress.”

  Wilcox gazed at him with chartreuse eyes and purred loudly while Kyle rubbed the cat’s fur.

  He tousled the cat’s head, addressing the fur ball. “You know, Wilcox,” he said, staring into the cat’s eyes, “hopefully it won’t be long before we’ll be on a first-name basis.”

  As he completed his sentence, Jane entered the room, eyeing him with curiosity. “So you’ve met my buddy.”

  Kyle set the cat on the floor. “Yep. He and I have already become quite attached. He told me to call him Will.”

  “Oh, really.”

  Her tone made him smile. She had changed into jeans and a long T-shirt. A pair of furry slippers hugged her feet. He leaned back, ready to explain why he had dropped by.

  As if reading his mind, she arched an eyebrow. “So, now that I’ve calmed down a little, why are you here? And—” she lowered her voice “—how did you know where I live?”

  “A police officer can find out anything. Since I was passing by… I, ah, well, I remembered we need to make dinner plans.”

  He’d promised to call. She nodded, watching him squirm.

  “Is Saturday good for you? I’m off duty this weekend.”

  Jane marveled at his unexpected discomfort. He seemed as nervous as she was. “Saturday’s good.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “Great, but I’m still holding you to that home-cooked dinner.”

  Tension knotted in her chest. He was moving too fast, though part of her longed for his friendship. “We could come back for coffee after dinner.”

  “And pie.” He gave her a bright smile. “Peach or berry—any kind of berry. Oh, and ice cream. Warm pie, cold ice cream.”

  “That’s a pretty straightforward order,” she said.

  “My dad taught me to be honest. He’s a minister.”

  As if hit in the stomach, she flinched. “A minister’s son?” The words flew from her mouth, and her mind wrestled to recover from the surprise. She grabbed her first available thought. “Then I’ll expect good things from you.”

  “Don’t expect much. My dad’s the minister.” He gave her a toying wink. “I’m just your average sinner. Stole a softball from the five-and-dime when I was a kid. Threw spitballs over the balcony at the movies. Cheated on a question on one of my exams.”

  Jane listened to his confession. She pictured hers like bloodred neon across her forehead. Trying to protect my mother, I prayed my father would die. That was one of her secret, guilt-ridden sins. One God had granted. She could never tell anyone, especially a preacher’s son.

  He rose and brushed her cheek with his fingers, his eyes warm and natural as summer rain.

  She wanted to fall on her knees, confessing what a horrible person she really was. But before she made a fool of herself, Kyle straightened himself and took a backward step. “Suppose I’d better get back to work.”

  Relief mingled with fear. She lowered her eyes.


  “Will you be all right?”

  Afraid to look at him, she focused on her hands, clasped in a tight knot. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  She watched his feet shift to what she assumed was a defensive stance. An idiosyncrasy she’d notice. “I’ll check around outside before I leave—just to make sure.”

  “Thanks.” She rose and followed him. “See you on Saturday, then?”

  “About six.”

  He touched her arm and the gentle warmth radiated to her heart.

  “And lock your doors when I leave,” he said.

  She agreed, and when he left, she waited by the window while he wandered around the exterior of the house, then pulled away. Was he worried about her, or was his “police officer” persona being naturally cautious? She didn’t know which she wanted.

  Anticipating her evening with Kyle, Jane stopped on the way home from work Friday to buy the ice cream. On Saturday afternoon when she started the pies, she’d thought about the situation.

  Her mind had swung like a pendulum. She wanted his friendship. She didn’t. Never had she been so paradoxically wishy-washy. How could one man motivate and confuse her so easily?

  Since she learned Kyle’s father was a minister, she kept asking herself the same question: What am I doing? And the same answer repeated often in her thoughts. It’s a hopeless situation. I’ll never, ever get seriously involved with a police officer. Especially one whose father is a minister.

  As Jane rolled the last crust, Kyle’s boyhood list of sinful discretions filled her mind. They sounded naive and chaste compared to hers. The day she fell on her knees and prayed her father would walk out of their life, even die, filled her with shame. The fourth commandment resounded in her mind. “Thou shalt honor thy father and thy mother.”

  Somehow in trying to defend and honor her mother, she’d dishonored her father. Each time the scene rose in her thoughts, the paradox wrought her with guilt, leaving her weighted with sorrow and exasperation.

  The commandments were impossible. Didn’t God realize sometimes a person had to break one part of a commandment to keep another? Could a minister’s son understand that? And could Kyle ever comprehend her feelings about policemen?