Loving Thy Neighbor

Chapter Three

“Another fine June morning,” Quincee said to herself not long after dawn on Sunday. She quietly pulled on cut-off denims and a light blue T-shirt printed with her school logo, and headed for the kitchen. The kids weren’t out of bed yet. She didn’t see any rush to wake them.

She made a cup of instant coffee and took her mug out to the backyard, wishing she had a Sunday newspaper to read. Her folks always had a Sunday paper when she and Paula were growing up. They’d fight over who got the cartoons first while Mom read the ads and Dad read the front page. Later they’d go to church and then spend the afternoon with Mom’s sister, Aunt Beth, or their grandparents.

That was long ago, she mused. Her parents had died young, leaving Paula and her to cling to each other, and Aunt Beth and her family had moved to Colorado. Life had moved on. But Quincee recalled those days with fond nostalgia, and she intended to give Kyle and Kerri as much home life and stability as she could make for them.

Strolling over to the old wooden bench under a slender oak tree, she wondered if she’d gain a splinter if she sat on it. But it looked inviting, so she sank down and stretched out her bare legs.

She lifted her face to the sun. She felt lazy. It was a lovely way to start a Sunday morning, even without a Sunday paper. Sundays should always have a special identity, meaningful and different from other days, she decided.

She and the children would let any work on the house go for today. They’d find something new to do, something to take them out of the daily routine. Didn’t the Bible say the seventh day should be a day of rest?

“That’s it,” she murmured. “We’ll go to church. It’s just what we need.”

Although her faith in God had never waned, she’d been lax in finding a church home these last few years. She and Paula had been raised with church attendance as part of their weekly routine, Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings in prayer service, and she suddenly realized how much she missed it. She certainly could benefit from hearing God’s word spoken aloud, of singing her worship. What did the scripture say? Forsake not the gathering together?

She’d have to look up the exact Scripture, she supposed, but she understood the gist of it. It was past time to see that the children had biblical studies.

Quincee wiggled her toes in a clump of dandelions, thinking about it. Could she sneak the car out?

Nah…she’d better not try to defy her restriction. Surely she could find a church within walking distance.

Happy with her plan, Quincee sipped her coffee. Still lazily enjoying the early sun rays, she set her cup on the ground beside her, swung her feet up and leaned back on folded arms behind her head. Humming a tune, she stared at the sky for long moments, mentally going over her list of things to do for the coming week.

Meet with Bette again about the neighborhood yard sale—they’d already sketched out early plans. Call the newspapers about placing an ad. Make flyers to distribute. Talk to Mr. Bader to see if she could inspect the piano he offered her. And finish scraping and sanding her house.

She’d spent the majority of her week handscraping four layers of old paint from three sides of her house; she had only one side left to complete. Laura promised to run her to the hardware store to buy paint. She’d already done a preliminary pricing by phone and knew just where to shop for the best bargain.

“Quincee?” She heard Kyle from the open back door.

The boy was another early riser. She often thought of the first hour of the day as their time, since they frequently discussed things that he was interested in without Kerri’s bid for her attention to interrupt them.

“Out here, Kyle.”

In turning to sit up, something caused her to glance over at the house next door. A flutter at the corner of her eye brought her attention to a second-story window. A bare-chested man appeared between the lace curtains, hair tousled and leaning on strong arms against the windowsill. She saw his chest expand and contract. Hamilton Adam Paxton, the Third, liked to greet the morning by breathing deeply in an open window, did he? Who could’ve guessed he’d be a fitness freak?

Across the distance, he seemed to be watching her. How long had he been there? Flashing an emphatic grin, she gave a saucy wave.

He disappeared behind the curtains, and his window slammed closed. Quincee folded her mouth, smothering a chuckle. Obviously, he wasn’t amused. Had she invaded his space? Had he lost his sense of privacy on this side of his house? Her house had been empty so long, he might think it.

Kyle came out carrying a glass of juice and perched on the bench beside her.

“Hi, tiger. It’s a beautiful morning,” she said. “How about if we begin our day with a nice walk after breakfast?”

Several hours later, the three of them approached a large stone church building that had been a part of Independence since 1872. She’d called to find out the times of worship and found a map to tell her just how far they’d have to walk. A mile and six-tenths sounded just about the right amount to enjoy, she told the children. By the time they arrived, they’d welcome a chance to sit quietly and listen to God’s word.

Quincee smoothed a hand over her long blue print skirt and ran an inspecting gaze over Kyle’s clean jeans and white open-neck dress shirt. His short hair lay close to his head, and his face appeared shiny clean.

Kerri looked fetching in the yellow sundress Quincee had hurriedly dug out from the bottom of a drawer for the child to wear. A simple white knit T-shirt under the printed straps dressed it up a bit.

Actually, the dress was too short for the child, but Quincee hadn’t had time to buy any new clothes for the children.

Who was she kidding? She hadn’t had any extra money to buy new clothes for any of them. Well, the old sewing machine would have to come out of storage, she decided. Attaching a ruffle onto the dress’s hem would solve that problem, and she could do some other long-needed mending while she was at it.

They climbed the concrete steps to the huge open front doors.

An older man, graying and with a limp, greeted them at the door with a handshake for her and a word for the children. “Good morning there, folks. How are you this fine morning? Welcome to God’s house, young man. And young missy. Nice of you to join us. Go right on in and find a place to sit. There’s an empty spot about halfway down this morning.”

Another greeter welcomed them inside the foyer and handed Quincee a program.

The church sanctuary, already about three-quarters full, was filling quickly. Quincee guided the children toward the center as directed. They slid into a pew. Surprisingly, Kerri was subdued enough to remain silent as she busily looked around her. Kyle asked whispered questions about who the people on the stage might be and excitedly pointed out that several had instruments. Were they going to play?

Before she could answer, a tap on her shoulder caused Quincee to glance backward. Bette and Gene Longacre sat just behind them.

“Why, hello there, Quincee,” Bette greeted with a smiling welcome. “And Kyle and Kerri.”

Gene nodded at the children, murmuring, “How spiffy you look this morning.”

Quincee felt warmed and unexpectedly at home.

“So nice to have you here to worship with us this morning,” Bette said. “Oh, Quincee. I have three other people who are eager to join the yard sale. One lives a block down, and she said she’d be glad to help set up such an event, and they all love your idea of barter. Can we get together tomorrow?”

Bette ended on a whisper as the musicians began the opening song.

“Oh, sure,” Quincee returned, also whispering. “Certainly.”

She then riveted her attention on the opening of the worship service, silently praying to have a listening heart.

They all rose to join the first lively song of joy and thanksgiving. The children, wide-eyed with curiosity, gazed around them when a family with several children squeezed into the pew on their other side. Kerri stretched to her toes trying to see the song leader.

The morning went quickly. Quincee, drawn into the sermon of God’s redeeming love, of His promises, felt lifted and filled with more peace than she’d had in months. Since before her sister’s illness, she thought. She hadn’t realized how hungry she’d been to hear it again. Closing her eyes, she silently thanked God for leading her to this church this morning.

Just before the close of the service, the minister announced a need to see the deacons for a few moments immediately following the service. He dismissed the congregation with the admonition, “Go home, go forth and share God’s love throughout the week, and love one another.”

Quincee and the children joined the sudden crush in the aisle. People greeted each other, someone mentioning the Royals’ latest baseball score, another replying. A child begged to go swimming as soon as they returned home. Behind her, Bette repeated her promise to call tomorrow. Looking over her shoulder, Quincee responded with a nod.

Someone pushed down the aisle against the tide, and Kerri suddenly called, “Hap. Hap, here we are.”

Quincee’s head snapped around. Almost face-to-face, Hamilton stared at her, his eyes darkening in mild shock. A fleeting image of his earlier appearance in his window crossed her mind. Something told her he was thinking of that same moment. Heat rose in her cheeks. She felt trapped in the eddy of flowing humanity, while hung up in his gaze.

He recovered more quickly than she and switched his attention to the children. Kerri had already grabbed his hand and looked at him adoringly. “I didn’t know you were at church, Hap.”

Hearing the nickname, a portly man glanced at them curiously as he came out of a pew nearby, his gaze finally leveling on Hamilton. His mouth curved in what Quincee could only call a smirk. “Five minutes, Judge,” the man said, and shoved his way down the aisle.

Irritation flickered across Hamilton’s face, but it was gone by the time he answered Kerri. “I didn’t know you were here, either, Kerri. Did you and Kyle find new friends at Bible class?”

“We didn’t go to Bible class,” Kyle told him. “We just came to church.”

“Come early enough for the children’s Bible study next week, children. You’d like it.” Then flashing Quincee a suspicious gaze, he asked, “How did you come today?”

“We walked,” Kerri informed him with pride. “We walked a hundred blocks.”

The crowd around them thinned. Hamilton glanced at the small knot of men gathering at the front, his expression indicating he was hoping for a quick exit. Quincee followed his gaze and noted the pastor watching them expectantly.

“Sorry, but I must go,” he said. “Deacon’s meeting. But if you wait around for about ten minutes, I’ll drive you home.”

Quincee dropped her gaze. Really? He was a deacon at this church? Oh, great! Why didn’t that surprise her? Of all her luck, she’d found a church she liked on the first try, and the judge was a deacon there. Was this a conspiracy to keep her under his watchful eye or something?

“That’s kind of you, but not this time, thank you.” She took Kerri’s hand. “Come on, kids. Let’s be on our way.”

“See you later, Hap,” Kerri said, letting go her hold on the judge. A tiny dimple appeared beside her mouth, worthy of Shirley Temple. “Can we come over and help in your garden today?”

“Um, I suppose so.” His lightning glance surveyed Quincee’s face. “Sure,” he said with more force. “I’ll, um, probably be out this afternoon. Just wait, all right?”

They were halfway home when Hamilton’s sleek, dark sedan rolled to a stop at the curb beside them. “Why didn’t you wait? Get in, I’ll take you the rest of the way home.”

“Thank you, but we’re fine.” Quincee kept a firm hand on Kerri and continued walking. Kyle marched a few yards ahead, dragging a large stick he’d picked up along the way. He dodged to the right, bounding at an overhanging limb.

“Kyle,” she protested.

Kyle pretended he didn’t hear her. Instead, he grabbed hold and swung in a Tarzan leap, landing miraculously on both feet. Quincee let out a sigh.

“I can have you home in three minutes,” Hap said. “It’s already hot out here.”

“No, thank you.” She tried to avoid raising her nose into the air or sounding self-sacrificingly superior or anything, but she just thought he needn’t have any further chances to oversee her life.

She didn’t want to be owing him any favors, either. Not unless they had a firm understanding about a barter exchange. Beside, it didn’t hurt for the judge to realize how doing without a car changed one’s daily perspective. She only wished he could experience it firsthand rather than by observation. “We are enjoying the walk.”

“Suit yourself.” He pulled away, his expression set.

Now she’d really insulted him, Quincee supposed. She hadn’t intended to offend him—well, only a little. But she had wanted to exert her independence.

Hamilton drove home determined he’d be wasting his time to offer any further assistance to that obstinate bit of fluff living next door. What in the world had he been thinking to even try? Hadn’t his position taught him that doing the Good Samaritan routine was wasted on most people these days? But her stubborn little chin and huge blue eyes somehow stirred his emotions.

Careful, Hamilton! She’s a single mother with no evidence of having more sense than God gave a goose. She’ll suck you in with saucy smiles and empty promises if you’re not prudent, and spit you out like an unwanted core.

He hadn’t much patience with the women of his generation. Like his late grandfather, he thought too many were irresponsible and careless in the extreme, never far from disaster because they acted without much care for the future. His mother had been one of those flibbertigibbets. But in all honesty, he couldn’t say much for his father, either.

Uncomfortable with where those thoughts always took him, Hamilton forced his hands to relax on the wheel.

Quincee Davis seemed to fit that box of foolish woman to perfection. How could she have moved into that shambles of a house next door expecting to raise two children there alone? With all the work it needed to make it truly livable? It could have been bulldozed to the ground for all he cared. The neighborhood would look much neater without it.

Furthermore, he’d noticed that the young woman expected to do everything herself. He didn’t exactly approve of single women declaring they didn’t need a man. He was old-fashioned, he supposed, but it took two people to make those children, and although he’d been raised by his grandfather alone, he really thought children should have two parents if at all possible. Where was the children’s father, anyway?

Hamilton parked his car, pulling it into his detached oversize garage with its neat workbench in the rear. His grandfather’s old dark blue sedan still occupied the second half. He supposed it was time to sell it. His granddad had been gone nearly two years.

He’d returned to this house after years in an inner city apartment with all the mixed emotions of any inheritance, he supposed. After the age of five, he’d been raised in this house. He missed his grandfather, and the longer he continued to live here, the more he felt it was his rightful place. He was a man born too late for his time, he supposed.

But what had he ever done to deserve Quincee Davis as a neighbor? He was still figuring that out. Her refusal of a ride wasn’t the end of the world, but he couldn’t help feeling ruffled over the woman’s insistence of having the last word in their conversations. Each and every time.

Stubborn woman! She liked having her own way and she certainly learned her lessons the hard way.

Thinking about her made his shoulders twitch. Quincee was one sassy woman. Her strawberry hair fit her. In his opinion, she needed far more help than she’d admit. Yes, she certainly was obstinate enough to learn her lessons the hard way.

And he’d just let her, by gum. He just would. Whatever compassion he’d been tempted to feel on the children’s behalf was best kept to his side of the hedge.

He’d find it convenient to work outdoors for a time this afternoon. The tykes weren’t nearly as annoying as he’d first thought them. They only needed a firm hand, and for some reason they liked him. The legal work he’d brought home to study could wait until evening.

He shut his car door firmly, and then his garage, before unlocking the back door of his silent house. Only the muted sounds of a slight breeze welcomed him home.

Quincee, on her side of the hedge, filled her afternoon with sorting through the last of the summer clothes they’d hurriedly stuffed into chests when unpacking. She flattened and hauled the last cardboard boxes to the trash bin, then cast a half-envious gaze over the side yard. She hadn’t been invited to join the garden party, but there was no reason she couldn’t wander over to see how the three of them were doing, was there?

The judge’s vegetable garden took up a huge section of his backyard opposite the property line they shared. She half crawled through the hedge opening the children used, and went to find them.

“Now see this?” Hamilton spoke as she came around the corner. Three rounded backs huddled over a row of leaf lettuce. “That pesky rabbit has eaten more than his share of my lettuce. So we’ll just place this fence around the edges of the garden like this.”

He picked up a section of meshed wire with long stake wires and pushed it into the soft earth.

“When will the lettuce be ready for people?” Kyle asked.

“Actually, this is the last of it for this year. I’ve had many salads from this crop already, so I’d be happy to share the rest. Would you like to have some?”

“I guess so,” Kyle replied in a dubious tone.

“The last of these snap peas should be good, too. If we leave them any longer, they’ll be tough. Why don’t you fill that old bucket with them and take them home?”

“Peas? Ugh.” Kyle let his opinion of that particular vegetable be known as he squinted at Hamilton.

“I like peas,” Kerri declared.

Quincee caught her breath on a spurt of laughter. Kerri hated peas, but obviously Hap’s approval meant a lot to her.

“That’s good. I’ll wager you’ll like these, Kyle. They’re fresh and they taste much better than when canned or even frozen.”

The thought of fresh lettuce and peas made Quincee’s mouth water, but she was proud of Kyle when he asked, “Did we earn it?”

“You bet. Hand weeding takes special care. You two are really getting the hang of it.”

This was the first time Quincee had been to Hamilton’s garden, and she cast an assessing study over the entire space. Its neat rows and healthy plants could grace the cover of any home and garden magazine. She’d like to meet that outrageously bold rabbit who dared invade Hamilton’s territory. They just might become friends.

She cleared her throat to let them know she was there. “It’s time the two of you thank Hamilton for allowing you to play on his side of the hedge. But you should come home now. Laura is coming to visit later.”

“Are we cooking hamburgers?” Kerri asked. “Can Hap come, too?”

“Um, sure, why not?” Quincee tipped her head. “Want to join us for a cookout?”

He gave her a quick, impatient glance. “Thank you, but I have work I must get done. I’d better decline.”

So were they even now, Quincee wondered?

“Suit yourself.” She let a smile curve as she stalked toward her yard.

“By the way, Miss Davis,” he called after her. “I didn’t forget that I promised to take that lock off your garage. I’ll take care of it later, just as soon as I put away my garden tools.”

“Thanks, Hap. Whenever.”

She felt his gaze boring into her back, right between her shoulder blades. She was about to turn the corner and disappear from his view when he muttered, “If you must, call me Hamilton.”

“Sure, Hamilton,” she replied under her breath.

Chapter Four

“You mean you still don’t know what’s in that garage?” Laura asked, her jaw slack with amazement. Her brown-eyed gaze followed Hamilton’s progress as he retreated to his own yard, leaving few words behind him. He’d come over long enough to remove the lock, then left immediately, politely refusing a glass of lemonade.

The sun hung low on the horizon, still hot but beginning to lose its heat. Quincee and Laura lounged on a patch quilt thrown under the tree, the remains of their cookout and tall glasses of iced lemonade neatly stacked on the wooden bench, while Kyle and Kerri played tag, running circles around the house.

A huge feeling of gratitude always filled Quincee for her friend’s generosity. They’d been fellow teachers at school from the first day Quincee had arrived, nearly five years before. Laura, older by ten years and more experienced, had been her mentor. Hers had been the shoulder soggy from Quincee’s tears when Paula died. Recently, Quincee had cheered the loudest when Laura became the principle in an Independence school. Laura had assured Quincee a teacher’s position there, one of the reasons she’d been excited to find a house on this street.

“Nope,” Quincee replied. “Had other things to do. Other priorities. We’re going to tackle it first thing in the morning, though. Want to come by and help?”

“How can you wait that long? I’d be chomping to get to it.” Laura lowered her voice, tipping her head toward where she could see Hamilton between the hedge gaps as he strode toward his house. “Whew! That’s the judge, huh? And he’s the one who jerked your license?”

“Yep. He’s the one.”

“Has he said anything, referred to it at all?”

“Not a word. Guess he leaves his work behind when he leaves the courthouse.”

“Is he always that stuffy?”

“Always,” Quincee continued, barely above a whisper. “Though sometimes, when he doesn’t know anyone is looking, he can become quite human. I think he’s rather lonely.”

“Well, it seems to me he’ll make a problematical neighbor. I wouldn’t want to live next door to him.”

Quincee grinned. “Weelll, actually…I think he’s kinda cute, if you’re into serious men. It’s just so much fun to tease him. He fumes in an interesting manner. And strangely, the kids have really taken to him.”

“They need a father figure, I suppose.”

“Mmm,” Quincee agreed.

“But Quincee, you’d better watch it. One day your odd sense of humor will get you into trouble, for sure.” Laura’s gaze roamed over the big house looming over Quincee’s tiny one. “But you know, I think you’re right. He is cute in a brooding, Rochester kind of way. Are you sure you can handle him?”

“Not at all.” Quincee let her tone grow serious. “I don’t think anyone handles Hamilton Adam Paxton, Three. He’s too upright, too ingrained in old-fashioned philosophies for me. Really, Laura, don’t worry about me falling for Hamilton. At this point in my life, I’m only hoping to make friends.”

But he still had the finest of masculine eyes, Quincee thought. Perhaps the finest in the county.

“If you say so,” Laura said, her tone dry. “Now we still have a couple of hours left of daylight. Are you really going to wait till tomorrow to see what’s in that garage?”

“Nah. Let’s have at it!” Quincee couldn’t keep her irrepressible eagerness hidden a moment longer. “But I think we’d better wear gloves. Wait a moment and I’ll find some.”

She could find only one pair, though, and she offered these to Laura.