opportunity to make restitution, to ask forgiveness and soothe the guilt and regret eating him up inside.
First, however, he had to renew Faith’s hope in herself, in life, in living. The spark was still there inside her, whether she recognized it or not. He’d heard it in her voice when she’d mentioned the kids, seen it in the brief flash of pain that had quickened her lifeless green eyes. That was why Jesse had to work fast. She wasn’t completely hardened yet, though she fought like the devil to be just that.
Faith’s picture pushed into his mind—her eyes wide, filled with the tears she’d fought so hard not to shed when she’d touched the Houston Rockets mug. He could see the slight quiver of her lips, almost feel their softness against his own—
He forced the image away. No use dwelling on what he couldn’t have. He had no future here other than the next two weeks, and to get close to Faith, then abandon her, would do neither of them any good.
He had only one purpose—to renew Faith’s hope in life. Jesse had to forget the pain in her eyes, the lure of her soft, full, trembling lips, and convince her living and caring and sharing were all worth the effort.
He couldn’t walk out on her again as he’d donethis morning. He had to get close to her, win her trust, make her feel.
A sudden sense of loneliness swept through him, not his own, but Faith’s. He stiffened.
Linked. Connected
.
“You all right?” Bradley’s voice cut through Jesse’s thoughts. He glanced up to see the man standing in the doorway, a clipboard in one hand, a pair of wire spectacles in the other.
Jesse nodded. “Do you need me for anything?”
Bradley shook his head. “No. Everybody’s upstairs getting ready for bed.” He walked into the room and sank down into a chair opposite Jesse. “I hope you aren’t having second thoughts about staying on here. The kids really took to you today. I haven’t ever seen Ricky do dishes without putting up at least fifteen minutes of griping.”
Jesse smiled. “He owed me. I beat him at arm wrestling, and he wanted a rematch. No dishes, no rematch. The kid hates to lose.”
“You got that right.” The other man grinned; then his face took on a serious expression. “He pounded another boy last month for tackling him during football practice. Gave the boy a black eye and a bloody lip. The school rewarded him with one month of detention for fighting.” Bradley shook his head. “But now is a cakewalk compared to the way things used to be. Just last year Ricky was a walking pharmacy and armed to the hilt. He’d already been ditching school regularly for three years. CPS got him when he shot one of his connections because the guy ripped off five bucks’ worth of drugs.” Bradley wiped a hand over his eyes. “Nothing compared to detention, huh?”
“Sounds like he was pretty bad news.”
“He was. He’s still a little violent, but he takesmost of his aggression out on the football field. Except, of course, for last month. But with a past like his, you can’t complain about a little fighting. Way back when, Ricky would have shot that boy instead of laying into him with his fists.”
“This place must be doing him some good.”
“It is—not only Ricky but the others, as well. Last year we even received a recognition award from the mayor.”
“How long has Faith’s House been around?”
“Faith started off about five years ago, right after she graduated from college. At least a dozen agencies contacted her about a job, but she wanted to start her own group foster home. She’d volunteered at a shelter in Austin while she went to University of Texas, and that’s where she came up with the plan for Faith’s House.”
“Who provides the funding?”
“The state gives a monthly reimbursement for each child, but it isn’t nearly enough to provide for them like this.” Bradley’s gaze swept around the room, the comfortable sofa and chairs, the thick carpeting. The
First, however, he had to renew Faith’s hope in herself, in life, in living. The spark was still there inside her, whether she recognized it or not. He’d heard it in her voice when she’d mentioned the kids, seen it in the brief flash of pain that had quickened her lifeless green eyes. That was why Jesse had to work fast. She wasn’t completely hardened yet, though she fought like the devil to be just that.
Faith’s picture pushed into his mind—her eyes wide, filled with the tears she’d fought so hard not to shed when she’d touched the Houston Rockets mug. He could see the slight quiver of her lips, almost feel their softness against his own—
He forced the image away. No use dwelling on what he couldn’t have. He had no future here other than the next two weeks, and to get close to Faith, then abandon her, would do neither of them any good.
He had only one purpose—to renew Faith’s hope in life. Jesse had to forget the pain in her eyes, the lure of her soft, full, trembling lips, and convince her living and caring and sharing were all worth the effort.
He couldn’t walk out on her again as he’d donethis morning. He had to get close to her, win her trust, make her feel.
A sudden sense of loneliness swept through him, not his own, but Faith’s. He stiffened.
Linked. Connected
.
“You all right?” Bradley’s voice cut through Jesse’s thoughts. He glanced up to see the man standing in the doorway, a clipboard in one hand, a pair of wire spectacles in the other.
Jesse nodded. “Do you need me for anything?”
Bradley shook his head. “No. Everybody’s upstairs getting ready for bed.” He walked into the room and sank down into a chair opposite Jesse. “I hope you aren’t having second thoughts about staying on here. The kids really took to you today. I haven’t ever seen Ricky do dishes without putting up at least fifteen minutes of griping.”
Jesse smiled. “He owed me. I beat him at arm wrestling, and he wanted a rematch. No dishes, no rematch. The kid hates to lose.”
“You got that right.” The other man grinned; then his face took on a serious expression. “He pounded another boy last month for tackling him during football practice. Gave the boy a black eye and a bloody lip. The school rewarded him with one month of detention for fighting.” Bradley shook his head. “But now is a cakewalk compared to the way things used to be. Just last year Ricky was a walking pharmacy and armed to the hilt. He’d already been ditching school regularly for three years. CPS got him when he shot one of his connections because the guy ripped off five bucks’ worth of drugs.” Bradley wiped a hand over his eyes. “Nothing compared to detention, huh?”
“Sounds like he was pretty bad news.”
“He was. He’s still a little violent, but he takesmost of his aggression out on the football field. Except, of course, for last month. But with a past like his, you can’t complain about a little fighting. Way back when, Ricky would have shot that boy instead of laying into him with his fists.”
“This place must be doing him some good.”
“It is—not only Ricky but the others, as well. Last year we even received a recognition award from the mayor.”
“How long has Faith’s House been around?”
“Faith started off about five years ago, right after she graduated from college. At least a dozen agencies contacted her about a job, but she wanted to start her own group foster home. She’d volunteered at a shelter in Austin while she went to University of Texas, and that’s where she came up with the plan for Faith’s House.”
“Who provides the funding?”
“The state gives a monthly reimbursement for each child, but it isn’t nearly enough to provide for them like this.” Bradley’s gaze swept around the room, the comfortable sofa and chairs, the thick carpeting. The
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