A Little Bit Engaged

“Neither would I.” He would really be scared of the woman then.

“So,” Rose said. “What should I tell her when she comes looking for you?”

“Nothing…”

“Pastor—”

“Okay, if she threatens to pull out your fingernails one by one, you can tell her I’ve gone to see Charlotte Sims at the Big Brothers/Big Sisters office. But only under threat of torture. Understand?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Rose.”

He slipped out the door of the massive stone church, built seventy-five years before, and tried not to think of his shortcomings as an Episcopalian priest, as Mrs. Ryan saw them. He was too young, wasn’t married and had no children, so he obviously didn’t know enough about life to help people with real problems. He tended to be more informal in how he related to his parishioners and how they related to him, than Mrs. Ryan thought was proper. She thought it scandalous that he asked people to call him Ben—Pastor Ben if they really felt it was necessary to add some title to his name. And he was always behind on his paperwork.

Those were his main failings, all of which he tried not to think about as he headed for Magnolia Falls’ Main Street. He’d cross that and then go four blocks over, to Vine, to see Charlotte Sims, a woman he hoped would be more successful than he’d been at helping the teenager who’d shown up at his church yesterday morning but run away before Ben could do anything for her.

Honestly, she’d hardly given him ten minutes.

Was he really supposed to turn her life around in ten minutes?

Not that he’d left it at that.

He’d followed her, was probably lucky he hadn’t been arrested for stalking. Mrs. Ryan would have loved that. The day that woman had to bail him out of jail was the day he was out of here for good. Defrocked. Wasn’t that what they called it? He thought it sounded like an odd, modern-dance number or maybe some obscure cooking term.

Defrock the basted chicken pieces, and heat oven to 375….

Okay, so he’d like to avoid defrocking, kidnapping, hostage taking and stalking charges. He’d like to actually do some good. He’d like to feel useful. He’d like to not be afraid of Mrs. Ryan. He was her boss, after all. Not that she showed any understanding of that.

He grinned remembering how horrified his secretary had been by the girl’s appearance yesterday. Truth be told, Ben had been a bit taken aback, as well.

She had badly dyed, jet-black hair that looked like she’d taken a razorblade to it, then gelled it to get it to stand up in every direction; she was wearing at least seven earrings. He didn’t even want to imagine what else she might have pierced. Shannon wore a black leather jacket and tall boots, that odd white makeup on her face and nearly black lipstick.

And it wasn’t even Halloween.

She looked as if she was twelve going on forty, but he’d found out she was actually fifteen, had lost her mother and the grandmother who’d raised her, and was now living with a father who couldn’t have cared less about her, at least not as she told the story. She said straight-out that she didn’t believe in God but was desperate enough that day to give God—well, actually Ben—a chance. Ten minutes to either help her or convince her to stay, neither of which he’d done.

And she was pregnant, which made the whole situation even more dire.

Ben had followed her, successfully avoided stalking charges, resisted kidnapping her, and found her in the parking lot of the local high school talking to one of his parishioners, Betty Williams, who happened to teach there. A nicer, more successful do-gooder, he’d never met. And Betty had told him to get Shannon into the local Big Brothers/Big Sisters program, if he could. They were full, with a waiting list a mile long. Betty had checked.

It had taken a little unauthorized deal making to get Shannon a spot at the front of the line, and he hated to make other kids wait longer for help, but there was the baby to consider. So Ben had turned wheeler-dealer, offering an as-yet-undefined favor to the director of Big Brothers/Big Sisters, which was why he was sneaking out of church this morning, to see what the deal would cost him.

He arrived at the pretty brick building and was just about to grab the door, when it opened on its own.

Hmm.

He liked open doors.

He thought they were a sign that someone was doing something right.

He was just about to walk through that open door when a tiny, curly-headed girl came barreling out. Afraid she was going to charge out of the building and right into the street, he yelled, “Hey, wait!”

She stopped, standing with her back to the door, not trying to escape but holding the door open and gazing up at him with a puzzled smile.

“Oh,” he said. “I thought you were taking off.”

“Not by myself. I’m only six,” she said, as if he had the IQ of a tomato. Maybe one that had been defrocked along with the chicken?

“Well…good,” he said, bested by a six-year-old. “I tell you what. The door looks heavy. How ’bout I hold it?”

She shrugged, then grinned. Once he had the door, she did a little dance step and spun around. “Know what? I’m gonna be a dancer when I get big.”

“Great.”

She did another little twirl step right there in the hallway, and the little red ribbon that had been dangling from the end of one curl floated to the floor.

“Allie, wait,” a woman inside called out.

Ben looked up to see a woman sitting just inside the door. She had her hands full, a baby cradled against her shoulder and a toddler missing a shoe whom she’d managed to catch by the hood of his jacket.

“You don’t want to leave your mom,” Ben said, moving to put his body between hers and the hallway, in case she decided to run for it.

“She’s not my mom,” Allie said. “She’s my cousin. My mommy left, and her cousin has a little baby and a not-so-little one, and she’s trying to take care of me, too. Only, we’re a handful. I’m here to get a big sister. What about you?”

“I think I’m too old for them to give me a big brother. What do you think?”

She giggled. “You’re really old.”

“And you lost your hair ribbon,” he said. “Let me get it.”

Ben got down on his knees beside her, happy to have a problem he could solve for a change. He grabbed the ribbon, then didn’t quite know what to do with it. She really had a mountain of hair, and it was sticking out every which way. He wasn’t sure what he could accomplish by way of subduing it with one ribbon. Was it for show, or did it have a real purpose?

“Looks like you two need some help,” a nice, soft, feminine voice said.

Ben glanced to his right and saw legs, really nice legs. He looked up and saw a pretty blonde in a no-nonsense, dark-brown suit and a crisp white blouse. There was a brown satchel in her hand and an I-can-fix-this look on her face.

Okay, so he couldn’t even get the hair ribbon thing right. Maybe it really wasn’t his day. Maybe he shouldn’t be out loose on the streets like this, even if he hadn’t committed any crimes yet.

“This is my friend, Allie,” he told the pretty blonde. “She’s lost her ribbon.”

“Again,” Allie added.

“Again? Oh. Well, let’s see if we can get it to stay in your hair.” The woman put down her satchel and took the ribbon in hand, working what looked like magic with the girl’s unruly hair in a matter of minutes with nothing but her two hands, and then secured the ribbon. “Double knot and tight. That’s the key to keeping a hair ribbon in place.”

“Really?” Allie bounced up and down and then stared out of the corner of her eyes, trying to find the ribbon.

“It’s still there,” Ben told Allie, then let himself look at the woman again. She knew how to fix ribbons and hair, and she was kind as well. Seemed like she liked children, too. He wondered how she knew about the double-knotted-ribbon thing. “Thank you.”