Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“But why not ask for help?”
“They would have shoved him into foster care. We were taken into care for a time after my mom’s overdose when I was six, and it wasn’t ideal. The older kids were bullies; the adults were bigger bullies. He was two years away from being a legal adult. We figured we could make it work. I hated it, worried about him every single day, and then, when he was eighteen, the little asshole went and joined the fucking army. In another country.”
“Making you worry even more,” she said astutely, and he glowered at the memory.
“Hmm.”
They stepped into the room and gaped. It was reasonably clean, had cardboard shoved into the window to keep the wind out. A mattress had been dragged into the least drafty corner and was neatly covered in a flowered comforter. There were a few cans of tinned food, along with a can opener and a spoon, neatly stacked on a box at the foot of the mattress, a stack of romance paperbacks carefully arranged, in alphabetical order, on the floor at the head. A flashlight was placed on top of them.
“Somebody’s living here,” Daff whispered, and, grimly taking in every detail of the room, Spencer nodded.
“Hmm. I think I know who it is.”
“You do?”
“This kid, I think she’s new in town. I’ve seen her around a couple of times. Dresses like a boy to disguise the fact that she’s female. I was worried that she was in some kind of trouble.” He shook his head sadly as his eyes continued to sweep from one item to the next. “I was hoping it wouldn’t be this bad.”
“Should we wait for her?”
“She won’t come near the house with the truck parked outside. I’ll have to find another way to approach her. I hate the thought of her in this old place. It should have been condemned years ago, and who knows what other itinerants come through here. Girl or boy, they won’t care—she’s young, small, and pretty much defenseless despite her prickly attitude.”
“Will you call the police? Having her in custody is better than to risk leaving her here another night, isn’t it?”
“She won’t be here another night.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, confused by his statement. “You’re coming back here?”
“After the dinner party, yeah,” he confirmed. “I’ll park farther away and walk up to the house.”
“Won’t that scare her?”
“We have the cops pick her up and she’s lost to us. They’ll stick her in the system. Maybe Oom Herbert or Father O’Grady can help me find her a temporary home until we can figure something out.”
“You can’t do this for every lost child, Spencer. You have to use the system and make it work for you.”
“And I will, it’s just this one . . . it feels different.”
She considered his strong profile and felt the most overwhelming surge of admiration mixed in with tenderness for the man. He really was quite remarkable. More people should aspire to be like Spencer Carlisle. He had a genuine concern for others that—considering his background—was extraordinary. He could so easily have gone in another direction, could have made different choices, could have allowed his circumstances to engulf him and suck him into the same vicious circle as his parents. But he hadn’t—instead he’d learned empathy, had aimed higher, had taught old-fashioned values to his brother and had pushed them both to want more and be more.
Daff was starting to feel things for Spencer Carlisle she’d never felt for any man before, and she wasn’t entirely sure what those feelings meant. Or how to cope with them.
He led her back to the truck, and she remained silent and introspective until they were back on the road to town.
“So what’s the verdict on the house?” she asked.
“I don’t think it can be saved,” he said. “Do you?”
“No, you’re definitely going to have to demolish and rebuild it.” She paused before sighing deeply. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to meet some resistance from a few members on the town council over this, Spencer.”
“I know. Mason and I will work out a solid business model for the project before presenting it, have all our ducks in a row, so to speak.”
“You could raise money through charity drives and fund-raisers,” she suggested. “My mother and I are always having dinners and functions to raise money for the animal shelters. It’s small-scale, but we can find a way to do something similar for the youth center. Mom and Dad are in the country club—Dad hates it and rarely goes, but I could ask my mother if she could convince some of her friends to talk to their husbands. There are some very influential people at that club.”
“You’d do that?”
“No child should go through what you and Mason did growing up,” Daff said softly, her voice hitching on the words. “And no child should be so alone in the world that they’re forced to sleep on the floor of a condemned building. What you’re trying to do for these kids is amazing. I’m sorry I didn’t know exactly how amazing before today.”