A Small-Town Girl
She’d been all business and grit. Though not really. There’d been a flash of vulnerability in her blue eyes, as if someone had hurt her. He knew the feeling well.
Sitting on the edge of his desk, he waited for the last three minutes of class to tick by.
One of the boys near the front caught his eye. “Mr. Hudson, you going to the game?”
“Of course.”
In the back row, Ben Schultz raised his head. “I heard Jamestown’s pretty good. I hope we’ll have a chance.”
Cary hid a smile. Until recently, Ben had only paid attention to computers and science labs. It looked as if everyone—teachers, students and townsfolk—was rallying behind the Lions. “Brian McCullough’s pretty good, too,” he said, referring to their team’s star forward.
“He’s better than that, Mr. Hudson,” Amy chimed in. “College scouts have been to the last four games. I heard he’s about to get offered a scholarship to Ohio State.”
“You know more than I do. I hope he gets it.”
“Amy likes him,” Jeremy called out snidely. “Too bad he’s dating Melissa.”
Cary wisely said nothing. Amy lived down his street, and Melissa was his niece.
“Everyone likes Brian McCullough,” Amy retorted, though her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
A couple more books closed just as the bell rang.
“Thanks, Mr. Hudson,” a few kids called out as they ran out the door.
“No problem. See you tomorrow.”
“See you tonight,” Jeremy corrected with a grin.
“That’s right. I’ll see you tonight.”
One by one they filed out, leaving the room empty in seconds. Cary wandered back to his desk and sat down just as his best friend, Dave Fanning, strode in.
“Want to grab a burger before the game?”
“Sure, but I have to run home first and take care of Sludge.”
Dave scowled. “How is that crazed dog?”
“Great.”
“He tore up my new pair of loafers last time I was at your place.”
“You’ve been warned. All shoes are fair game if they’re not on someone’s feet.”
“Why didn’t you get a Lab like most normal people? I’ve never heard of a Labrador having a wool-and-shoe fetish.”
“No Labs at the pound.”
“Just psycho beagles.”
“He’s only three-quarters beagle. The rest is a mystery.”
“I’d bet money he’s one-fourth rottweiler.” After nodding to another teacher who walked by, Dave directed a look Cary’s way. “So have you signed next year’s contract yet?”
“Nope.”
“It’s due by next Friday.”
“I’ll make my decision by then.”
Dave leaned against the doorjamb. A parade of noisy kids passed behind him. “Why are you waiting? Is it because of Kate? She’s moved on, you know. What was between you two is history.”
“This next contract is for three years. I just want to make sure this is where I want to be.”
“You’ve lived here all your life. Where else would you want to be?”
Nowhere, but was he ready to decide that there was no other place he wanted to be than Lane’s End? “I’ll probably sign it. I’m just not in a hurry this year. And, Dave, I don’t care that Kate is dating Michael Kent.” The ass.
“He deserves her,” Dave scoffed, making no effort to hide his feelings for either of them. “But, for your information, Michael has just had his second interview in Lakota.”
Lakota was a large and steadily growing district to the west.
That was news. “Really?”
“He wants a principalship. No way is he going to get one around here anytime soon.”
Cary knew that to be true. Lane’s End had just two elementary schools, one junior high and one high school. It was small town all the way. The only time administrators left their positions was when they died or retired, and Evan Miller, the principal of Lane’s End, was years away from either. “When’s he supposed to hear something?”
“Any day.”
“Thanks for the update.”
“So…food?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll meet you at the Cheyenne Shack in about an hour.”
Dave grinned. “Good.” He looked as though he was about to say more when Melissa stuck her head in.
“Uncle Cary, you still going to the game tonight?”
“Yep. You cheering tonight?”
Melissa laughed. “Of course. See you there.”
Cary raised a hand in goodbye as she flashed him a smile before disappearing.
“You’ve got to stay at LEHS,” Dave said when they were alone again. “The whole student body loves you. You’re the most popular teacher on campus.”
“Pretty impressive for a math geek, huh?”
Since he and Dave had known each other since their own high school days and had even roomed together in college, his friend rolled his eyes. “Too impressive for you,” he retorted. “See you at the Shack.”
“GIVE ME AN L! GIVE me an A! Give me an N!” a peppy blonde with the loudest voice in the world screamed to the filled-to-capacity gymnasium. Obediently the crowd called out the letters in unison, most waving black-and-gold pom-poms.
“This is giving me a headache,” Gen told Sam Clark as they passed the exuberant cheerleaders and made their way up the stands. “I can’t believe you conned me into coming.”
“Conned you? This is the biggest thing going tonight. Lane’s End’s basketball team hasn’t done this well in years. If we win tonight and the next game, we’re in the play-offs.”
“I know. I’m excited for the kids, too. And the whole town. It’s just a little overwhelming.”
“For you?” Sam looked surprised. “And here I thought our newest member of the force was invincible.”
Gen laughed at Sam’s exaggeration. Sam was one of the few members of the force who hadn’t closed ranks against the new female officer. Instead he’d done his best to be available for all of her questions. They’d hit it off so well, when he’d asked if she wanted a lift to the game, she’d said yes. Sam’s girlfriend, Meagan, lived in Dayton, so he was a perfect date for Gen—a friend who wasn’t interested in anything more.
Sliding down the bleacher, Gen said, “I have to admit I would have been perfectly okay hearing all about it in the paper tomorrow.”
“Not half as fun. Besides, think of this as your civic duty. Half the town is here,” Sam said as they claimed one of the last empty spots. “It’s a great time to meet new people and socialize. Before you know it, you’ll feel like you’re a part of the community.”
Gen doubted it would be easy. She’d always felt a little apart from everyone, but the distance was almost comfortable. It was a lot easier to depend on herself than on other people.
As a cheerleader dressed in a furry Lions costume appeared and everyone went nuts, Gen figured Sam had been right. It did seem as if half the populace was crammed into the high school gym. As she scanned the crowd, Gen recognized a few of the faces. There was the chief of police. The mayor. Her new vet. Cary Hudson.
Her pulse sped up as she spied him smiling at a mom and two toddlers.
Surprised at her reaction, Gen tamped it down with effort. Of course Cary was there. Hadn’t he admitted how excited he was about the play-offs? Besides, some of his students were probably on the team.
Narrowing her eyes, she had to admit he looked just as handsome from across a gym floor as he had sitting across a table from her. A sharp feeling of regret stabbed deep as Gen realized she should’ve asked for his number or passed on her e-mail address.
Though by the looks of things, it didn’t seem as if he needed another friend. No, the guy was swamped with attention, talking to five or six people at the same time. Two men about his age sat on one side of him; high school kids flanked his right side. Genevieve couldn’t resist grinning. Dressed in a black long-sleeved T-shirt, he looked relaxed and happy.
She was just about to turn away when he glanced across the sea of people and caught her eye. When he raised a hand in greeting, she did the same.
“Who are you waving at?” Sam asked.
“The guy in the long-sleeved black shirt. Cary Hudson. He’s a math teacher here.”
“I know Cary,” Sam said.
“How do you know him?”
Sam shrugged. “This is Lane’s End, remember? My sister used to date his brother. Cary’s a nice guy.”
“He sure looks popular.”
“He is, I guess. Cary’s one of those people who just seems content, you know? Never seen him flustered.” Sam nodded to a couple sitting two rows down before continuing. “His dad was a minister. Did you know that?”
“No. I just met him the other day.”
“Well, Paul Hudson was pastor at the Church of Christ for almost three decades before he passed away. Cary’s brother, Dean, is a financial advisor. He and his daughter, Melissa, live right next door to Cary in their parents’ old house.”
“That’s pretty unusual, two brothers living side by side.”
Sam nodded. “From what I’ve been told, it works out well. Dean’s wife took off when Melissa was just a baby, so Cary watched her during summer breaks.”
Gen wished she had that kind of close relationship with Margaret. But more distanced them than miles. For most of her life, Gen had been career-oriented, doing her best to achieve recognition as a cop, while Meg was a wife and mother to three kids. It was what Meg had always wanted since getting her first doll. Those goals had seemed to divide them. Gen wondered if they could ever find common ground.
Gen peeked over at Cary again, but he was gone. Curious, she scanned the crowd, but it was hard to find anything in the sea of black and gold.
Then she spied him walking toward her up the narrow passage in between the rows of bleachers. As he approached, her stomach clenched. The feeling was awkwardly familiar—she’d felt the same way standing outside her captain’s office.
Cary, on the other hand, looked as though he had no such qualms at all. He was working the crowd like a seasoned politician, greeting everyone by name, shaking hands, joking with a crowd of boys who’d sprayed their hair bright yellow for the game.
“Well, speak of the devil,” Sam murmured.
“Yeah. Speak of the devil.”
“Hey, Sam. Hey, Gen.” Pointing to the Lane’s End Lions sweatshirt Sam had given her, he said, “Looks like you’ve finally caught the fever, too.”
“I’ve caught something,” she murmured just as Sam trotted down the bleachers to “socialize,” leaving his spot to Cary.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
“Not at all.” Eyeing some kids eating candy bars two rows down, she said, “I was just sitting here, wondering if I needed to get myself a Snickers bar.”
He laughed as he sat down next to her. “I’d offer you one, but all I’ve got is a pack of Big Red.”
“You offering?”
Pulling out a stick of gum, he placed it in her hand. “Of course. I’d never refuse a cop.”
The light flirtation made Gen smile. That it centered around her penchant for junk food kept things nice and easy. “I knew you were as smart as you looked,” she teased.
“I’m smarter,” he countered, unwrapping a piece for himself.
As the crowd roared again, Gen popped the gum in her mouth and told herself that there was nothing brewing between her and Cary Hudson. Nothing more than friendship.
Yeah, right.
Chapter Three
“Go, Lions!” the cheerleaders yelled in unison. “Go, Lane’s End!”
The crowd roared to life as the team came on the court. Hoots and hollers abounded as everyone leaped to their feet. But though he’d been looking forward to the game, suddenly all Cary wanted to do was stare at Gen Slate. She looked cute in a sweatshirt and jeans, her long black hair tied in a ponytail.
“How’s Sadie?”
“Rotten,” she said with a grin. “The day I saw you, she escaped from her kennel, nudged open the pantry door and ate two boxes of cereal before I came home. What about Sludge?”
“He’s the same as always. Last night he attacked the football I was throwing and howled at the mail carrier.”
Recalling how harried Gen had looked when she’d left the café, he said, “Was everything okay after your call? You left in a hurry.”
“More or less. A semi had collided with a car on I-275 and the department needed some support.” Eyes clouding, Gen shook her head. “It was touch and go for a while, but everyone involved ended up okay.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Gen gestured to Sam. “I heard you and Sam know each other.”
“We do.” Cary laughed. “I think everyone here pretty much knows each other. And their mothers, fathers and grade-school teachers.”
“He said your father was with the church.”
“Yeah. A minister.” Interested in finding out why she was asking, he said, “Are you looking for a church or something?”
“Oh my gosh, no.”
Her tone took him off guard. “Okay,” he answered, drawing out the word.
“Sorry, I guess that came out wrong. I meant to say I’ve never had time for that kind of stuff.”
Though her tone was light, Cary caught the edge of steel in it. “I see.”
She glanced his way again, all big blue eyes and wariness. “Hey, I hope I didn’t offend you.”
“Not at all.” He wasn’t offended…just disappointed. Gen Slate seemed covered in a hard shell, giving him little idea about what she was really like.
Did he really want to become involved with another woman who wasn’t honest about her feelings?
As he spied Dave and saw that his brother was now sitting with him, Cary stood. “Well, it was good to see you. I’m going to head on back and let Sam reclaim his seat.”
“Oh. All right.”
Cary’s heart softened as he noticed that same touch of confusion in her eyes he’d spied at the pet store. “Hey, be careful on patrol, Gen.”
A flash of humor—and vulnerability?—crossed her face before she tamped it down. “Don’t worry, Cary. I never let work stress me out.”
He was about to ask if she ever took time off when the crowd around them grumbled again.
“Mr. Hudson! You’re six feet two. Go play or move!” Kyle West called out from three rows up.
“Wish you cared as much about independent variables as this game, Kyle,” Cary retorted. “You blew yesterday’s quiz.”
Kyle paled. “Don’t tell my mom.”
As the crowd around them laughed and a wad of paper flew toward the freckle-faced junior, Cary made his way down the stands. Catching Mrs. West’s eye, he couldn’t resist winking at her. “I’m guessing she already knows,” he murmured, just as the referee called another time-out.
A WEEK LATER, Melissa rapped two times on his door before barging in. “Uncle Cary? You home?”
Cary glanced at his watch. It was seven o’clock. Usually Melissa was either doing homework or talking on the phone at this time of night. “You okay?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m so glad you’re home. Dad’s working late and Brian’s still at practice.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, instantly concerned. Melissa looked to be on the verge of tears.
“Come see my car,” she said, her lip trembling. “Someone ruined all my tires! I don’t know how it could have happened.”
“Let’s go see.”
“It’s bad,” she said. “I don’t know how it could have happened.”
Grabbing a jacket and a cell phone, Cary followed her down his walkway and out to her trusty blue Civic, practically lying on the curb in front of her house, its tires completely flat. “Those tires are ruined all right.”
As if relieved that he finally believed her, her light-blue eyes filled with tears. “I was about to go out when I found it like this!”
Though his knee-jerk reaction was to ask where she’d been headed, he focused on the car. “Did you drive through a new neighborhood or something?” he asked, even though he knew a few stray nails wouldn’t cause this much damage.
“No, I drove straight home from school.”
After checking the tires for nails or other debris, he finally saw a jagged cut near the rim of one. “These have been slashed.”
“Dad’s going to be so mad.”
With his thumb, Cary wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “No, he won’t.”
She hiccuped. “You think?”
“I know. He’s my brother, remember? Have you called him yet?”
“Not yet.”
Pointing to the cement curb bordering her lawn, he said, “Let’s have a seat. Missy, I think we ought to call the police. Slashing tires is serious stuff, so we should report this. It could just be someone’s idea of a prank, but we should be careful in any case.”
Because she still looked worried she’d get in trouble, he added, “Your dad’s going to want to contact the insurance agency, and they’ll likely want the police to look at the damage, anyway.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “It’s okay. Your dad will know this wasn’t your fault.”
Her cell phone rang. “Brian! Oh my gosh!” she said as soon as she clicked on in that dramatic way of hers that Cary knew so well. Cary stretched his legs as Melissa quickly summarized to her boyfriend what was happening.
A much calmer Melissa turned to him after she clicked off. “Brian said you should call the police.”
“I guess we’d better then,” he said, his sarcasm completely wasted on his niece. Funny how teenagers never changed. Cary vividly remembered always putting his friends’ advice in the forefront years ago, too.
After dialing Information, he called the police station. Recognizing the voice, he said, “Hey, Amanda, this is Cary Hudson. Any chance you could send Gary or Sam out this way? Melissa has a slight problem here.” After telling her about the tires, he turned to his niece. “Someone will be here shortly.”
Next he called his brother and filled him in. Luckily Dean was already on his way home.
Within minutes, a stream of cars approached.
Out of the first vehicle flew Brian, who rushed toward Melissa. Next came half the basketball team, three girls from Missy’s cheer squad and assorted other seniors who were looking for a party.
Cary waved hello to everyone but stayed seated. He’d known most of the kids for years and had taught nearly every one of them. They were good kids and were doing their best to give Melissa emotional support. Already his petite niece was standing a little straighter now that her hand was firmly encased in Brian’s.
Finally a police cruiser appeared.
Cary stood motionless when he saw who’d come to help them out.
Officer Gen Slate.
THE SCENE THAT greeted Gen was oddly familiar. Here in Lane’s End—just as it had been in Beckley—everyone’s business was cause for discussion. A whole crowd of kids gathered in front of a row of fifties-style ranch houses. Cary, a diminutive blonde and a really tall kid in sweats were in the middle of it all. Everyone looked to be talking at once.
Just as she was about to approach them, yet another car pulled up. An attractive man in a button-down shirt, jeans and the same dark-brown eyes as Cary’s got out of his sedan. After hugging the girl, as well, he slapped the tall kid on the shoulder. Then, they all turned to Gen.
“Glad you’re here, Officer,” the man—likely Cary’s brother considering the resemblance—said after examining the Civic. “Someone really did a number on my daughter’s tires.”
“It definitely looks that way,” Gen said as she quickly jotted down a record of her first impressions. “Any idea why someone would deliberately do this?”
The girl glanced at her friends before turning to Gen. “No.”
Just as Gen was wondering how to send the kids home without alienating the lot of them, Cary stepped forward.
“Guys, if you don’t have information to contribute, you all better get on home.”
“I’m not leaving,” the tall kid—Brian—said.
“I can stay, too,” a freckle-faced boy added, casting an almost wistful look toward Melissa.
Gen watched Cary’s niece meet the boy’s gaze before turning her head away, pink staining her cheeks.
“Go on home, Jimmy,” Brian said. “Melissa’s fine with me.”
Jimmy shook his head. “Listen—”
Just as Gen was going to step in, Cary took control. “Brian, go ahead and stay. Melissa needs you. Everyone else, why don’t you let Melissa call you later?”
Miraculously most of the kids listened and, with a few parting words to Melissa, went on their way.
Gen tapped her pen again. “Let’s start from the top. I’ll take your statements and some pictures. If I need anything else, I’ll stop by tomorrow. It’s getting late and I’m sure everyone’s ready to go inside.”
As Gen had hoped, her calm, direct manner soothed the girl’s nerves. Melissa stepped away from Brian and answered Gen’s questions, only pausing once or twice for her dad to add information.
There wasn’t much to go on. Genevieve suspected Melissa’s Civic was just a victim of a random prank, but she would look into it.
Within the hour, Brian went home, Melissa and her dad headed inside and Gen and Cary were left alone.
“Thanks for coming out,” he said as she started toward her car. “Melissa was pretty upset.”
“Don’t thank me—it’s my job,” she quipped before she realized just how unfeeling she sounded.
His mouth tightened into a fine line. “Oh. Well. I guess it is.”
“Well, um, like I said, I’ll file this report and call back if I find out anything.” She opened her car door, feeling stupid for being so uptight.
“Call Dean. He’s her father.”
“I…I was planning on it.”
She was about to add more, anything to recreate the warmth in his gaze from the coffee shop. A howl directed her attention to Cary’s fence, where a tricolor beagle, almost the exact replica of Sadie, watched them both.
She stepped forward. “Is that Sludge?”
After a second, Cary grinned. “Yep.”
Sludge howled again.
Gen was charmed. Beagles, she could relate to. Approaching the fence, she held out her hand. “Hi, Sludge.” When Sludge tilted his head to one side and watched her, Gen knelt down, the edges of her long scarf grazing the grass below her.
Sludge eyed the wool with interest.
“I wouldn’t—” Cary called out.
But it was too late.
In a lightning-fast move, Sludge chomped down on the wool and pulled hard.
Gen landed on the grass just as a good three-inch square was ingested by Sludge. “Sludge! Cary, my scarf—”
“Is ruined,” Cary muttered in disapproval as Sludge chewed his prize without a bit of shame. “Sorry, he’s a menace.”
“He certainly is.” Bending down to pet the dog, Gen scratched his ears. “Be careful, Sludge, or you’re going to get my reputation for eating anything and everything that’s unhealthy for you.”
Cary’s lips twitched before pointing to the frayed, wet wool she now held in her hand. “Sorry about your scarf.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, wiping the grass from her thighs as she strode to her car. “Sadie’s done crazy things, too.”
“Thanks again for coming out.”
“No problem. Remember, it’s why I’m here.” Gen tried to lighten her words with a smile, but neither came out the way she’d intended. Though she’d spoken the truth, she’d also been genuinely glad to try to help. “Please tell your brother I’ll call him soon.”
After a few parting words, Cary went inside and Gen got in her car.
As she backed out, she shook her head in dismay. Someone had slapped a Lion Pride sticker smack-dab in the middle of her rear windshield while she’d been taking Melissa’s statement. Looked as though basketball fever was going to catch her whether she wanted to be caught or not.
Chapter Four
“It’s contract day, Cary,” Christy Pardue said from Cary’s doorway. “As your department head, I’ve been informed to tell you to either sign the thing and turn it in or write a letter of resignation and let us hire someone else.”
“Glad to feel so needed.”
“Any time. It’s why I get paid the big bucks.”
Cary laughed. “So…I’ve got make a decision, huh?”
“Yep. The school board is crunching numbers. Since Michael just announced he’s leaving to take that job at Lakota, Evan’s going crazy. He wants to know how many of us are coming back, pronto.”