Preacher Wore A Gun Page 3

  “Absolutely, and if things go as well as I hope they will, there may be a small severance bonus for you when your classes start.”

  The job seemed to be everything she had hoped for and more. “I accept, Mr. Drummond. I’ll gather up my things and report to your home in the morning no later than eight o’clock.”

  “Could you possibly make it by seven? I want to introduce you to my children before the two older ones leave for school, and I have to be at the courthouse by eight.”

  She glanced at her watch. Seven was less than thirteen hours away. She’d have to pack, load her car, take a shower—

  “But if seven is a problem, I could—”

  “Seven will be fine, Mr. Drummond. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Another thought occurred to her, an important one. “Oh, I have another problem, one I haven’t mentioned. I have a dog. I can’t leave Goliath here and expect my parents to take care of him.”

  “Goliath? He’s not a Great Dane, is he?”

  She chuckled. “No, but he’s a big dog. A black Lab.”

  A sigh of relief sounded on the other end. “Bring him. My backyard is fenced in and my son has always wanted a dog. Besides, I’ve heard black Labs make great family pets.”

  “They do.”

  “Is he an outdoor dog or used to staying in the house?”

  “He stayed in my apartment most of the time when I was in Omaha but—”

  “Don’t worry about it. He can stay in the house if he wants. I’m sure my kids will like him.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Drummond.”

  “Then I’ll see you—and Goliath—at seven. The address is—”

  “Just a moment, let me get a pen,” she said as she grabbed a pen and paper from her nightstand. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “It’s 2442 East Windmill Lane. It’s the only quad-level in the block. My red car will be parked in the driveway.”

  “I’m sure I can find it. I’ll see you at seven.”

  ❧

  Early the next morning, Mitch glanced at the clock on the range, gulped down the final swig of coffee, then hurried to the bottom of the steps leading to the upstairs bedrooms. “Tony! Delana! I need you downstairs now. We need to talk. Your new nanny will be here in fifteen minutes,” he hollered, cupping his hands to his mouth.

  No response.

  He brought his hands together in a loud clap. “Delana, Tony. Did you hear me? I said now. It’s six forty-five. You need to at least eat a bowl of cereal before leaving for school.”

  Still no response.

  “Am I going to have to come up there and get you? Because if I do, I’ll guarantee you it won’t be pleasant. Come down here right now! That’s an order.”

  The only sound in response was the loud slamming of a door.

  Mitch grabbed the handrail and, taking two steps at a time, rushed up to the landing. “Last call. I mean it. I want both of you out here right now!”

  The bathroom door opened and Tony, sending his father a look of disgust, emerged in a pair of baggy jeans, his underwear sticking out over the top, and a shirt with the words School Is for Idiots and Losers emblazoned across the front, his hair in a feeble attempt at a spiked-up Mohawk.

  “Quit yer dreamin’, Dad. That woman won’t last a day.”

  Mitch wanted to grab his son, order him to get rid of the weird hairdo, and shove him back into the bathroom, but he didn’t. The last thing he needed was a scene when Tassie arrived. “She’d better last more than a day or you’ll have me to answer to. I expect the three of you to be on your best behavior.”

  With a snort Tony pushed his way past Mitch and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Mitch walked the few steps to Delana’s door and rapped softly. “Delana, come on out, sweetheart. It’s nearly time for Tassie to arrive.”

  When Delana didn’t respond, Mitch turned the knob and, knowing how angry his daughter got when he invaded her privacy, pushed the door open only a slight crack. “Honey, did you hear Daddy?”

  When she didn’t answer, he pushed the door fully open and stepped inside. To his dismay the room was empty. Mitch’s heart sank as he saw the open window. He hurriedly walked over and closed it, making sure to hook the latch. If his daughter had climbed out the window, as she had done several times before to spend the night with one of her girlfriends, when she came back home she’d have to come through the door. But what was he going to tell Tassie? If he told her the truth, that his daughter was nothing more than a rebel teenager who constantly disobeyed his orders, she’d probably walk out and he’d be back to square one—without a nanny.

  Struggling to set his anger over Delana aside he moved down the hall and, ignoring the Keep Out sign his four-year-old had taped to her door, he turned the knob, entered her room, bent over the sleeping child, and gently placed a loving kiss on her pink cheek.

  Without even opening her eyes, Babette pushed him away. “Leave me alone!”

  “Daddy was just trying to wake you up, baby. Your new babysitter will be here. . .”

  He stopped mid-sentence at the ringing of the doorbell. Oh, no. She’s early! “Get your clothes on, pumpkin then come downstairs, okay?”

  Babette flipped onto her side and yanked the covers over her head. “Don’t want to.”

  “Please. For Daddy?”

  The doorbell sounded a second time. Mitch swallowed hard then went to answer it.

  ❧

  Tassie stepped back from the door and surveyed her surroundings. The house was nice. Well-painted and, except for two pairs of muddy running shoes and an equally muddy skateboard lying on the porch, it was fairly neat. The grass had been recently mowed but not edged, and the flower beds boasted no flowers, only weeds, but Mitchell Drummond was a single, apparently overworked father. More than likely, planting flowers and making sure his lawn was edged wasn’t in the top ten on his priority list. She pressed the button again and waited. Finally, the door opened and Mr. Drummond’s smiling face appeared.

  “Sorry, I was—my daughter Babette and I were—ah—talking.” He motioned her inside.

  She nodded then stepped into the foyer, which was nothing more than a closet door on one side and on the other, a chest with a mirror—desperately in need of a good washing—above it. She followed him into the living room.

  “The kids are—ah—getting ready for school. Well, Tony is, or was, now he’s in the kitchen having breakfast.” His gaze went to the stairway, which was directly behind the sofa. “Since Babette is only four, she doesn’t go to school. She’s—ah—sleeping. I’m sure she’ll wake up in a little while.” He gestured toward the stairway. “The kids’ bedrooms are upstairs. They share the hall bathroom.” He pointed to a set of stairs leading to a lower level. “A second bathroom is down there and so is the family room. It has a fireplace. My bedroom is in the lowest level.”

  Tassie nodded. “What about the laundry room?”

  He pointed toward an archway on his left. “By the back door.”

  “No dining room?”

  “Not really, but the kitchen has space for an oblong table and six chairs.”

  “And I’m to sleep above the garage?”

  ”Yes. Sorry about the inconvenience. The stairway to the garage room is on the outside. But,” he hastened to add, “there is an intercom so when I have to leave during the night, I’ll be able wake you up without coming to your room. I’d show it to you now but I want you to meet Tony before his ride comes to pick him up.”

  “Before I do anything, I need to get Goliath out of my car.”

  “Oh, yes, Goliath. I nearly forgot about him.” Mr. Drummond took the small suitcase from her hand and placed it on the floor. But as he reached for the doorknob the front door opened and a teenage girl, her hair a tangled mess, mascara smeared on her upper cheeks, wearing too-red lipstick and long earrings that dangled precariously to her slim shoulders, entered.

  Tassie took one look at the girl’s belligerent expression as she glared at her fa
ther, then at the teen’s skimpy attire, and shuddered. Surely this wasn’t Delana—but deep down inside she knew it was. And if it was, and Tony was even half as rebellious as his sister appeared to be, Tassie’s work was cut out for her. She could hardly wait to meet Babette. Surely, being only four, she wouldn’t yet have had a chance to be tainted by the world—and her siblings.

  From the way Mitchell’s face reddened and the way he clenched his fists at his sides, Tassie knew the girl was in trouble. “Go wash all that stuff off your face,” he told her in an almost monotone. Although Tassie couldn’t see his face, she was sure he was gritting his teeth. “I’ll deal with you later, Delana. I have to be at the courthouse by eight.”

  Without a word, Delana gave him a flip of her shoulders and headed up the stairs.

  “Better hurry!” he called up after her. “Your friend’s mom will be here any minute to take you to school and I want you to meet Tassie.” Mitchell raised his brow and gave Tassie a sheepish grin. “That girl has no sense of time.”

  Tassie felt her eyes widen. How dumb did he think she was? It was obvious the girl had been out all night! Hadn’t he been aware she’d been gone?

  Both she and Mitchell turned as Tony waddled into the room. Tassie had never been able to figure out why a guy would want to wear pants hung so low they impeded his walking. And his hair! What a mess.

  “Hey, is somebody going to drive me to school? I think my ride forgot to pick me up.”

  “Drive you to school? No, it’s only a couple of blocks away. Walk. The walk will be good for you.”

  Trying to be friendly, Tassie sent Tony a smile. “Hi. You must be Tony. I’m Tassie. I’ll walk out with you. I want to introduce you to Goliath.”

  The boy wrinkled up his nose. “Who is Goliath?”

  Tassie crooked her finger in his direction. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

  Without even a good-bye to his dad, Tony followed her as she walked out the front door toward her car.

  “Wow! Goliath is a dog!”

  The smile on his face warmed Tassie’s heart. Every boy she had ever known had been crazy about dogs. Maybe Goliath would be the very thing she needed to establish some sort of common ground with Tony. “You like dogs?”

  He reached inside and stroked Goliath’s head. “Yeah, I always wanted a dog, but Dad said no.” Then turning to her he asked, “Is he going to let you keep him here? In the house?”

  “Yes, he said it was fine with him.”

  Tony reared back, his eyes rounded. “My dad said that?”

  “Sure did.” She pointed toward Goliath. “He likes you. I can tell.”

  “I like him, too. Wow, Dad said a dog could stay here. Wait’ll I tell Delana. She’ll never believe it. He must have been pretty desperate for a babysitter to hire one with a dog.”

  “Your big sister likes dogs?”

  Tony cautiously leaned into the open door. “Yeah. She kept one of those fancy little dogs in her closet for three days before my dad found out. Boy, did she get in trouble for that one.”

  “You think she’ll like Goliath? He’s a lot bigger than one of those fancy little dogs.”

  The boy stroked the dog’s ears. “Yeah, she’ll like him. Who wouldn’t? He’s a great dog. Babette’ll like him, too.”

  Tassie suddenly felt a warm burst of satisfaction. Thanks to Goliath, maybe living with the Drummond kids wouldn’t be so bad after all; but of course she still hadn’t yet met the third child. She’d have to wait and see what Babette was like.

  At only four years old, she couldn’t be too bad. Could she?

  Four

  After a few final words with Mr. Drummond, he unceremoniously handed her a house key as he headed out the door, Delana on his heels, ignoring Tassie’s good-bye as the girl rushed out to meet her ride. She closed and locked the front door. Then, after checking to make sure Babette was still asleep, Tassie made a second trip out to her car, filled her arms with a few of the remaining items, then led Goliath back into the house.

  “The situation here is a little different than at Mom and Dad’s,” she told him as the two moved through the house and up the outside stairway to her room.

  “Um, not bad,” she said aloud after glancing round the small room that was to be hers for the next three months. “You and I are going to have to be patient. I have a feeling these kids are going to try to walk all over us.” Once everything had been placed on her bed or on the floor for sorting out later, Tassie, leaving Goliath behind, moved back downstairs to check on Babette and establish her presence in the Drummond home. If she demonstrated her authority right from the beginning, perhaps the children would be more cooperative. Even though she would do it in a pleasant manner, she would let them know right up front what she expected of them.

  Ignoring the Keep Out sign, although just the sight of it infuriated her that a four-year-old child could have such dominion over a household, Tassie tapped on Babette’s door. “Hi, Babette. It’s me—Tassie. Are you awake? Can I come in?”

  “No! Stay out! This is my room!” came back the answer. “I don’t like you and I don’t want you here!”

  The voice was that of a near baby but the words definitely conveyed her meaning. Little Miss Babette wasn’t about to accept the newest addition to her home. Turning, Tassie hurried through the house and up the stairs to her room to get Goliath. “Come on, Goliath, I’ve got a job for you.”

  With the dog at her heels, she climbed down the outside stairway and back through the house to the bedroom wing. “Someone wants to meet you, Babette. Come and see who it is.”

  “Don’t want to. Go away.”

  Tassie gave Goliath’s head a pat. “I think you’re going to like this new friend.” Although it took a great deal of effort on her part, she tried to keep her words sweet and not show the impatience that was building inside her.

  No response. She pushed the door open a little farther and stuck her head inside, only to be pelted by a flying pink flip-flop. Her impatience turned to anger. Holding her hands in front of her face to ward off any other objects that might come flying her way, she pushed the door fully open and entered the room. There, standing on the bed in the middle of a jumbled combination of dirty clothes and rumpled sheets, stood the young girl, still in her cute little Barbie jammies, her hands on her hips, her chin jutted out defiantly. “Get out!”

  Undaunted, Tassie grabbed Goliath’s collar and tugged him toward her. “See, I told you someone wanted to meet you. This is Goliath. He’s going to be living with you this summer.”

  “Don’t like dogs!”

  “But Goliath is such a nice dog. He wants to be your friend.”

  Babette stomped her little foot, pointed a finger toward the door, and screamed at the top of her lungs, “I hate you! Get out!”

  Tassie edged closer. “Now you know that’s not true, Babette. You don’t even know me, so how can you hate me? I want to be your friend, too.”

  Babette leaped off the bed, barely landing on her feet, and grabbed a cell phone from her nightstand. “My daddy is a policeman. I’m going to call and tell him to take you to jail!”

  The child had her own cell phone? Tassie could only imagine what would happen if Babette did call 911 and told them some awful tale, which she wouldn’t put past the belligerent child. Struggling to keep her voice even, she moved quickly forward and took the phone from the little girl’s hand. “You don’t really want to call the police. Besides, your daddy wants me here. Wouldn’t you rather pet Goliath’s head? He wants someone to play ball with him.”

  Babette narrowed her eyes, then folding her arms across her slim chest, glared at Tassie. “Don’t want to play ball.”

  “Then how about coming downstairs and letting me fix you some breakfast? Maybe some nicely browned bacon and French toast? Do you like French toast? With maple syrup on it?”

  The child’s lower lip curled down. “Don’t want no breakfast.”

  It was obvious she wasn’t getting anywhere
with the stubborn little girl. “Well, Goliath and I are hungry. I guess, since you don’t want any breakfast, I’ll go downstairs and fix bacon and French toast for the two of us. If you change your mind, come on down.”

  As promised, Tassie fixed the bacon and French toast in hopes Babette would relent and join them, but by the time she had finished the plateful she had made for herself, Babette still hadn’t appeared on the scene.

  “What do I do now?” Tassie asked her mom in desperation after she had dialed her number and described Mr. Drummond’s children’s behavior. “I’ve never seen such rebellious children.”

  “The best thing you can do: Pray for them, ask God for wisdom and strength, and be a shining witness to them.”

  “Thanks, Mom. You always know the right words to say. From now on, I’m going to look at my position here as a ministry, the ministry God has called me to. But please pray He will make me love these children because, to be honest, they are not very lovable.”

  “You know I will. Just remember each time they’re giving you fits, you’re not alone; I’m praying for you and for them. Hang in there, sweetheart. Things are bound to get better once they know you. Just love them, Tassie. That’s all God requires of you.”

  With her mother’s encouraging words ringing in her ears like a melodious sonnet, Tassie set about cleaning the kitchen and sorting the clothing and other soiled items that had accumulated on the laundry room floor. After that she worked at running the sweeper and dusting everything on the main level. Next, she moved upstairs, deciding first to work on Tony’s room.

  Until she opened the door and stepped inside.

  The place was a shambles with the bedding half pulled off the bed onto the floor. Underwear, T-shirts, and socks were scattered everywhere. There were even drink glasses andice cream bowls with mold growing in them, green as grass. The room smelled bad. Determined to get it organized, and with plans of making sure it stayed that way, she dove into the mess with a vengeance.

  “Tony is going to be mad at you.”

  Tassie spun around to find Babette standing in the open door, a ragged teddy bear cuddled in her arms, and she was still dressed in her jammies. And on the front of her shirt was a stain—a stain that looked remarkably like maple syrup. Had the child slipped downstairs and enjoyed breakfast while Tassie was cleaning her brother’s room? Ignoring the stain, she continued working.