Shooting the Moon. Brenda NovakЧитать онлайн книгу.
was a formality she allowed, as was the stop she made at the Hamburger Hut. At least she would know these three got home safely and had a large if not completely healthy meal.
“Invite everyone to the competition,” she said as she turned down the street where all three lived.
“What if you can’t pay?” the youngest of the group asked.
“Not a problem,” Pippa said. “Anybody who can’t come up with the entry fee can do some work for me around the skate park to earn the money.”
That perked up all three, and soon they were chattering about decks and wheels and other skating essentials. When Pippa had dropped off the last of the trio at his door, she was still smiling.
If every kid had to work off his fee, she would still hold the event. The Lord would provide. It was just that simple.
Her route back to the rented cabin took Pippa past the building where she would soon be living. The windows were dark, indicating the work for today had ceased. A few minutes later she arrived home. The sound of the waves breaking against the shore filled her ears as Pippa grabbed her bag and headed up the stairs to the front door. Pausing on the deck, she placed her bag at her feet and then walked over to the rail to look out at the ocean.
The sun had dipped close to the horizon, but there was still plenty of daylight left. To her right, the wide sweep of beach ended at the marina where sailboats rocked at anchor. On the left, the neon lights of Pop’s Seafood Shack twinkled in the distance. In between, the sand shimmered as the water lapped at the beach and then quickly retreated.
Pippa inhaled deeply of the fresh salt air and then let her breath out slowly. Of all the things she missed about her life prior to coming to work for Granny, living in the city was not among them. Nor was the lack of fresh seafood or the ability to take a long run down the beach whenever she wanted.
And right now she decided that’s exactly what she wanted.
Ten minutes later, Pippa had changed clothes and laced up her running shoes. She headed toward the marina at a slow pace, picking up speed as she neared the docks, and then turned around and retraced her steps toward the cabin. Instead of stopping, she kept going in the direction of Pop’s Seafood Shack. If Leah was there, perhaps her friend would have time to share a slice of pie back in the kitchen. If not, then a piece of pie to go would do the trick.
Pippa took her customary route up the back stairs and into the kitchen with renewed vigor. It had been too long since she paid Leah a visit here. Unfortunately her friend was out.
“Leah’s taking the night off,” the cook told her. “You want the usual?”
“No catfish for me tonight,” she said. “But I would like a slice of apple pie to go, if it’s not too much trouble.”
A few minutes later, she paid for the pie and headed back down the stairs. She had almost reached the deck when someone called her name.
Logan. She turned to face her building contractor. He, too, appeared to be carrying a slice of pie.
“Great minds think alike,” he quipped as he closed the distance between them. “Did you come for the pie, too?”
“I had hoped for conversation and pie, but Leah’s not here.” Pippa nodded toward the take-out container in her hand. “So it’s just pie.”
“Want some conversation to go with it?”
“Sure,” she said as she followed him over to the deck. “I wasn’t expecting anyone but Leah to see me, so please excuse my choice of outfit.”
He laughed. “I just figured you had decided to run off your meal before you ate it.”
Logan settled at the edge of the deck, his feet in the sand, and Pippa joined him. Instantly several seagulls went on alert, hovering overhead and then coming to roost on the rail nearby. Pippa ignored them, just as she did every morning when she drank her coffee on the cabin’s front porch, and dug her heels into the sand.
“You know, maybe there is something to this running first and eating pie later philosophy,” Logan said as he reached for the plastic fork inside the container.
“Maybe so.” They fell into companionable silence until Pippa decided to ask a question that had been bothering her. “So, Logan, you said something at my grandmother’s party that has me confused.”
He glanced at her. “What’s that?”
“You said something about seeing kids up to no good. What did you mean by that?”
His attention went to the fork in his hand. Slowly he set it aside and then regarded Pippa with a serious look. “I’m not completely sure what you’re asking.”
“Well,” she said slowly, “since I work with kids who aren’t always considered socially acceptable, I’m wondering whether you were making that determination about the kids based on how they looked.”
Logan seemed to consider the question a moment. Then he shrugged. “Partly. I think. If I remember right, the rest of what I said was that they reminded me of myself at that age.” Logan reached for the fork again and then seemed to think better of it. “I wasn’t exactly socially acceptable, either.”
“I see.”
“You sound disappointed in me.”
In a way, she was. She let her silence speak for her.
“Look,” he said gently. “I saw a lot of things in Africa what weren’t pleasant, but what I did see was the family unit taking care of its own. We’ve lost that here. Kids roam the street and there’s little anyone can do. Or maybe little they will do. At least until the kids have gotten in enough trouble for the authorities to intervene. I would like to stop that cycle.”
“So would I.” Pippa warmed to the topic. “That’s why I’m so passionate about the skating outreach. These kids are outcasts, or at least they look like it, and they need a place to go so they’re off the streets.”
“I don’t think that would have worked for me, so I’m not sure I can agree with your method.”
“I see.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And what would you suggest?”
“Rules, for a start. Some sort of order in their lives. Maybe a good talking-to or at least some incentive to stop hanging around doing nothing. I guess you could say I advocate a more direct approach between outcast and productive member of society.”
Oh.
Pippa opened her mouth to argue and then decided taking a bite of pie was the better course of action. Obviously Logan’s opinions and hers were in direct opposition.
He met her gaze. The man was attractive, even if he was completely wrong about the best way to win wayward souls to the Lord. “You don’t like my approach.”
“It doesn’t matter whether I like it,” she said. “I will say I disagree.”
Logan nodded. “All right. But you need to understand I’m thinking about what’s best for these kids. And considering I was one of them, I think I know what I’m talking about.”
He was wrong, of course, but for the sake of continuing the discussion, she decided to attempt a different argument. “All right, just one more thing.” Pippa mustered a smile. “I’m ready to prove you wrong.”
“Are you, now?” Logan seemed to think on that. “Considering we’re both wanting the same result for these kids, I hope you’re right. In the meantime, I’ll leave the skating to you and I’ll stick to building construction.”
This time her smile was genuine. “It’s a deal. Though you have an open invitation to come and see what we’re doing down there.”
Logan closed the pie container, his dessert now gone. “I’ll consider it,” he said. “Now what say I walk you home?”
She