When We Met

“It’s complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it. If you won’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help. Which means this is now your problem and you need to solve it.”

His jaw tightened. “This isn’t you at your most supportive.”

“Do I look like I care?”

He surprised her by smiling. “That’s the thing, Taryn. You always care. Unfortunately right now you’re being a pain in my ass.”

“Then my work here is done.”

* * *

ANGEL ARRIVED AT City Hall five minutes before the Grove Keepers’ meeting. He’d meant to do a little research online beforehand—find out about the organization and who was in charge. But a last-minute redo of an obstacle course had kept him busy for the past couple of days. Still, he knew he would pick up what he needed in plenty of time for his first grove meeting.

For a second he hesitated, thinking about what it would be like to work with the boys. Would they remind him of Marcus? Despite the time that had passed, he thought about his son every day. Missed him every day. Sometimes the memories were easy and sometimes they were hard, but they were always there.

Marcus would approve of this, he reminded himself. He’d liked hanging out with his friends.

Angel took the stairs two at a time and headed for the conference room on the second floor. He walked in and found most of the chairs around the long table were already full. Of women.

Angel paused in the doorway as he worked the problem. It made sense that moms would want to get involved with their sons, he thought. They were the traditional caretakers of the family. But shouldn’t there be a few dads in the mix, too?

It wasn’t that he didn’t like women. They were great. His wife had been a woman. But this was different. Teenaged boys needed a male role model.

A woman in her fifties walked up to him and smiled. “Hello, Angel.”

It took him a second to recognize Denise Hendrix—Ford’s mother. He’d had dinner at her house a few times since moving to town last year. She was friendly and well loved by her six children.

“Mrs. Hendrix,” he said. “Nice to see you.”

She shook her head. “Please, don’t call me Mrs. Hendrix. That makes me sound older than I already am. I’m Denise.”

“Sure.” He glanced around the room. “You have an FWM grove?”

“Not exactly. I’m the head of the Grove Council. Thank you so much for volunteering. We’re all very excited to have you aboard. Fresh blood and all that. We were afraid we’d lose you to the Boy Scouts, but we didn’t and we’re thrilled.”

She guided him over to one of the empty chairs and started introducing him to everyone. He nodded and put names with faces, then took his seat.

Even as he settled in his chair, he felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. Something was wrong. Denise’s mention of the Boy Scouts had confused him. Why would there be the FWM to help young men grow up when they could join the Boy Scouts instead? Was Fool’s Gold really big enough to support both organizations? Or had he misunderstood what the mayor had been telling him?

Denise took her place at the head of the table and started passing out thick notebooks. As she placed one in front of him, Angel was painfully aware of the fact that not only was it pink but the lettering across the front proclaimed the motto of the FWM.

Growing Our Girls into Capable Young Women.

He swore silently. Girls? He couldn’t take care of a grove of girls. He’d never had a daughter, and what he knew about women wasn’t exactly helpful to anyone.

Denise walked back to the head of the table and faced the group. “Thank you all for coming today. As you know, Marjorie has run the Grove Council for several years now and has done an excellent job.”

Angel saw Mayor Marsha’s assistant sitting near the front of the table. She waved when her name was mentioned. While she was still obviously upset, she wasn’t currently crying, which Angel appreciated.

“With her moving to Portland, there was an opening on the council,” Denise continued. “All three of my girls were once members of FWM.” She smiled. “Although it was a long time ago, I still remember their excitement as they grew from Acorns to Mighty Oaks. FWM was a positive influence on them in so many ways. So when I was asked to take over Marjorie’s position on the council, I said yes.”

Everyone applauded. Angel joined in. To be honest, it didn’t matter who was in charge. Not when he’d just learned he was going to be responsible for girls. What happened to the teenaged boys? That he could handle.

“Angel, you’re going to be starting with our newest girls,” Denise said with a smile. “You can figure it out together. I think that always works best. While your commitment is year to year, I hope we can count on you to stay with your grove until they, too, are Mighty Oaks.”

All the women in the room were staring at him, nodding and mostly smiling. A few looked doubtful, which made sense. He was doubtful, too. Or screwed. It kind of depended on how he looked at things.

Denise went through the rest of the “growing season.” The other groves had started in September. Only his would have a short season to get them used to the program. She mentioned a few all-grove events, then answered questions.

Angel tuned out the conversation and reached for the notebook. The pink notebook. He flipped it open and scanned the table of contents. There were sections on each level of the FWM along with subheadings.

He read the mission statement, then discovered that the Future Warriors of the Máa-zib marked their progress by earning small wooden beads after studying different areas of life. Some lessons were practical like learning knots and reading maps. Some were related to community. His girls were expected to take on a short-term civic project. There were also beads for family and friendship.