02_The Hero Next Door by Irene Hannon

fingered the delicate petal of a yellow daylily and sighed.
    J.C. wished he could offer her some guidance. But so far, his advice had done more harm than good.
    “I’m sorry you have to deal with this, Heather. Reaching a kid with that much anger inside isn’t easy.”
    “The thing is, I know how he feels.” She touched the tip of a delicate, lacy fern. “When my parents split, it turned my life upside down, too. Everything in my safe, predictable little world changed. My life was spinning out of control, and I felt powerless. Brian’s taking his frustration and anger and fear out on everyone and everything. I took mine out on the cause of the problem—my dad.”
    “Do you think he should do the same thing?”
    Heather’s features hardened. “Maybe. This is Peter’s fault. He cheated on my sister. Multiple times. There was no trust left in that relationship by the time they separated.”
    “Does Brian know that?”
    “Susan said she talked to him about it. But he doesn’t care about the reasons for the split. He just wants things back the way they were. Like I did.”
    “Maybe it would help if you shared some of your own background with him.”
    She pursed her lips, and her expression grew thoughtful. “The empathetic approach. Do you think that might work?”
    He gave a slight shrug and shook his head. “I haven’t a clue. Empathy wasn’t a tool I used with my siblings. Back in those days, I was living with perennial sleep deprivation while trying to cope with school, work and keeping tabs on Marci and Nathan. I didn’t have much time or patience for psychological techniques—or tolerance for disruptive behavior, whatever the cause.”
    “Well, I think it’s worth a try. Things can’t get any worse than they are now.”
    That wasn’t true, but J.C. saw no reason to add to her stress by voicing that thought.
    “Listen…thanks again for all you did last night.”
    “No problem.” He gestured toward the flowers. “Nice bouquet.”
    She smiled down at the colorful blossoms. “Nothing beats fresh flowers to brighten a day. I’m taking these over to Kate. She’s laid up with a bad summer cold. See you later.” Lifting her hand, she set off down the walk, toward her neighbor’s house.
    As he watched her, the rising sun peeked through the trees ahead, gilding her hair and bathing her slender form in a golden light. She was a beautiful woman, J.C. thought. Inside and out. Once again, despite her own problems, she was putting someone else first. Doing her best to offer some cheer to a person in need of a little pick-me-up.
    A rush of tenderness washed over him, smoothing the blemishes from his soul much as the rising tide sweeps over the sand, removing debris and leaving a clean, fresh expanse in its wake.
    And as he pushed off and pedaled toward his own tiny cottage to get some much-needed shut-eye after his busy night, he found himself hoping a certain tearoom owner would play a starring role in his dreams.
     
     
    An hour later, holding a tray containing five fresh-baked blueberry muffins and two glasses of milk, Heather ascended the stairs to the second floor. If she was the praying type, she’d send a plea heavenward about now.
    But in light of what had happened after her last informal request to the Almighty, she refrained.
    Pausing outside Brian’s door, she balanced the tray in one hand and knocked.
    No response.
    She knew he was in there, because she’d heard him moving around a few minutes earlier. She rapped again. “I’m coming in, Brian.”
    Twisting the knob, she gave the door a gentle push, waiting on the threshold as it swung open.
    The teen was stretched out on top of the comforter, still dressed in the cargo pants and sweatshirt from the night before. He’d kicked off his shoes, and they lay beside the packed suitcase at the foot of the bed. He didn’t look her way.
    Please, God, help me find the words that will reach him!
    The supplication echoed in her mind before she