Hometown Honey

“It’s really time he got up.”

Luke put down his coffee and worked his way to the front of the boat. He had to stoop slightly—he couldn’t even stand upright, the ceiling was so low. He pushed open a couple of louvered doors and found himself in the “bedroom”—a tiny triangular area with sheets and blankets spread out over oddly shaped cushions. Adam was already awake, sitting up in bed, looking out the porthole. Most babies he knew of started screaming the instant they awoke. But from what he’d seen of Adam, he was an easygoing kid.

“Hey, there, sport,” he said softly. Adam turned and studied Luke, appearing neither scared nor pleased to see him. More curious. “I bet you’re ready for some breakfast.”

“Do you mind bringing him out?” Cindy asked.

“If he’ll let me.” But when Luke reached for Adam, the baby held his arms out, perfectly accepting. Not that Luke was a complete stranger. But the baby had seen him up close maybe half a dozen times in his young life. Luke wrapped his arms securely around Adam’s warm body, dressed snugly in Carter’s pajamas. Adam babbled happily and snuggled against Luke.

Luke felt an odd sensation holding that baby. If things had gone the way he’d once hoped, Cindy’s child would also be his child. They’d have had a houseful by now.

“There’s my little man,” Cindy said with a dopey, maternal smile, holding out her arms. “Bet you need a diaper change.” She glanced at Luke as she took the baby. “Don’t worry, I’ll open some portholes first.”

He laughed. “I’m not worried. You want me to get you a diaper?”

She pointed to a box of disposables and a container of baby wipes, and she proceeded to efficiently change Adam’s diaper.

“Where do you bathe?” Luke blurted out. Though it sounded as if he was being nosy, this really was his business, he told himself.

“The marina has a very nice bathroom with showers and everything.”

“So Adam’s a shower man.”

“He’s learning. We shower together.”

Luke didn’t want to dwell on the image that popped into his mind.

“Cindy…you can’t stay here.”

“Why not? We’re managing just fine. Anyway, it’s only temporary, just until I figure out what to do.”

“Does this place have any heat?”

“No. But the weather’s very mild right now.”

“It’s October. You know the weather can change in a heartbeat.”

“I’ll deal with that problem when I come to it.”

They were saved from further argument by another knock on the hatch. For a moment, Cindy had a look on her face that reminded Luke of a scared rabbit.

“You want me to get that?”

“Would you, please?” She was just snapping up Adam’s pajamas. “And if it’s those women, tell them I’ll talk to them when I’m ready, not before,” she added crossly.

Luke climbed the steps and unfastened the barrel bolt. He pushed the hatch outward and found himself staring into the round, brown eyes of an attractive African-American woman wearing a worn sweaterdress, white stockings and scuffed black pumps. Not exactly boating clothes.

She smiled uncertainly. “Hi, I’m Beverly Hicks. I’m looking for a Cindy Lefler?”

Alarm bells went off in Luke’s head. The woman’s appearance and demeanor screamed one thing to him—government employee. Required to dress up for work but not paid enough to look slick or stylish. Polite demeanor with just a hint of authority.

“You’ve got the right place,” Luke said. Keeping her out wasn’t going to help Cindy in the long run.

“How can I help you?” Cindy said coolly.

“I’m from Social Services. I’ve had a report that you’re living with a baby on this boat.” Beverly Hicks looked pointedly at Adam, then at the stack of boxes.

Damn. The social worker had picked the worst possible time to show up—when the boat was redolent with a used Huggie. Luke grabbed the plastic bag that held the old diaper. “I’ll take care of this.” He’d seen a trash barrel on the dock and he exited the boat in search of it.

When he returned, Beverly was going through the same list of questions Luke had just asked Cindy—bathroom facilities, sleeping arrangements, heating and cooling. And she apparently didn’t like the answers she was getting, judging from the frown and the decisive way she scribbled on a form attached to a clipboard.

Cindy wasn’t exactly helping matters with her confrontational attitude, either.

“Ms. Hicks, does this baby look neglected or abused to you?”

Adam, at that moment, was bouncing on Cindy’s knee, laughing as if this were the greatest entertainment in the world. Anyone could see he was happy, plump and healthy, dressed in clean clothes that fit him well.

“No, he looks very happy,” Beverly agreed. “But I have to follow the guidelines,” she added, not without sympathy. “Someone made a complaint about you.”

“Who?” Cindy shot back. “Who complained?”

“I have to keep that information confidential. But I have to ascertain that certain criteria are being met. And clearly they aren’t. The baby doesn’t even have his own bed.”

“He sleeps with me. Lots of parents let their little ones sleep in their bed.”

“But the rules state the child has to have his own bed. And a place to bathe. And heat.”

Oh, boy, Luke thought. He didn’t like the sounds of this.

“This is only temporary,” Luke put in. He extended his hand to the social worker. “I’m Deputy Sheriff Luke Rheems. I can vouch for Cindy—she’s a really great mother.”

Beverly shook his hand, silently appraising him. “I’m sure Ms. Lefler does the very best she can. Still, these arrangements aren’t satisfactory. Adam is ambulatory. He could wake up, walk outside, fall off the boat and drown.”

“That would never happen!” Cindy objected.

“Nevertheless, I’m afraid I’ll have to take temporary custody of Adam. We’ll put him in foster care until you can make other living arrangements that meet the state’s requirements.”

Cindy looked horrified. She wrapped her arms around Adam. “You are not taking my baby. No. No way.”

Beverly looked at Luke, pleading for understanding. “You’re in law enforcement. You understand how these laws work, don’t you?”

Unfortunately he did. But he agreed totally with Cindy. No way was Adam going into foster care. The mere thought of what could happen to a baby dropped into the hands of supposedly caring, qualified strangers made that instant coffee he’d drunk churn bitterly in his stomach.

“There must be some other way to deal with this,” Cindy said, obviously struggling not to lose her cool completely.

“Well, if there’s a qualified relative he could stay with,” Beverly said. “What about the father? Is he in the picture?”

Cindy opened her mouth to answer, no doubt about to inform Beverly that the father was deceased. But Luke beat her to the punch.

“Actually, I’m Adam’s father,” he said. “Cindy and I were just discussing the possibility of Adam coming to live with me for a while until she can pull things together.” He hadn’t planned to tell such a whopper. It had just come out of his mouth, naturally as could be.

Cindy’s jaw dropped, a denial ready, but Beverly smiled, obviously relieved. “Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so? That’s a different situation altogether. You two are on amicable terms, then?”

“Oh, yes,” Luke answered quickly to keep Beverly’s attention on him. Cindy was still gaping in shock, but so far she hadn’t objected aloud.

“Do you have experience caring for a baby?” Beverly asked suspiciously, obviously doubting that this big, strapping lawman knew the difference between a diaper and a pacifier.

“Oh, yes, ma’am. I grew up in a foster home with lots of kids. I got real good at the diaper changing and bottle warming.” As if to emphasize the point, he picked up Adam and cuddled him, knowing he would look perfectly natural and comfortable with the baby—and that Adam wouldn’t object.

Beverly nodded. “What sort of child-care arrangements could you make while you’re working?” she asked, taking notes now.

“My mother—well, she’s my foster mother—lives nearby. She’s retired and I know she’d love taking care of Adam while I’m at work.”

Beverly looked expectantly at Cindy, who had managed to school her face. “Is this arrangement satisfactory to you?”

“It’s not ideal,” she said. “But I’d rather that than foster care.”

Beverly’s eyes flickered with worry. “Do you have concerns about Deputy Rheems’s ability to adequately care for Adam?”

Cindy shook her head. “No. He’s very responsible. It’s just—oh, never mind. It’s fine.”

Beverly smiled. “Very good, then. I’ll get some information from you, then I’ll check back in a day or two to make sure everything’s A-OK.”

“Thank you,” Luke said, meaning it. Beverly took down some pertinent information about him—address, phone, work schedule, his foster mother’s name and address. Then she turned her attention back to Cindy.

“Now, then. Is there anything I can do to help you? Do you need food? Diapers?”

“I’m not some welfare mother,” Cindy said indignantly. “I’ve always paid my own way and I’ll continue to do so.”

Beverly seemed to frost over. “Excuse me, but I used to be a ‘welfare mother,’ as you call it. Everyone needs help now and then. Don’t let your pride get in the way of common sense.” She gave Adam a look of pity, tousled his downy hair, then saw herself out.

Luke and Cindy stared at each other in silence until the sound of Beverly’s heels thump-thumping on the wooden dock receded into the distance.

“Are you out of your mind?” Cindy reached for Adam, who had started to fret.

“I should think you’d be thanking me. I kept that woman from taking Adam away, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, with a huge lie! What’s going to happen when she finds out the truth?”

“She won’t find out.”

“Of course she will! She’ll go back to whoever made the complaint and tell them Adam’s going to live with his father, and then she’ll find out Adam’s father is dead and all hell will break loose.”

“Cindy, listen. Social workers have to adhere to privacy laws. If she tells the complainant anything, she’ll simply say that the matter is taken care of. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?”

Adam’s fussing got louder. Luke theorized the baby was responding more to the escalating tension than his hunger, but Cindy moved into the tiny galley and fished around in a box while jiggling Adam on one hip the way all mothers instinctively learned how to do. She produced a jar of baby cereal and a spoon.

“Don’t worry—right.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “That woman’s going to be back, and she’s going to expect to find Adam all cozy in your house, with his granny taking care of him.”

“That’s what she’ll find, all right.”

“Over my dead body. Just because you’re a deputy sheriff doesn’t mean you can take my kid away, so just get that out of your head.”

CINDY PULLED SOME ORANGE juice from a cooler of melting ice and poured it into a Tommy Tippee cup. Adam eagerly reached for the cup, the juice magically silencing his fretting.

She wished Luke would just go away. He was too big for this little boat, his presence too overpowering. Even Beverly, a complete stranger, hadn’t been immune to his sense of authority and the way his feet practically grew roots wherever he stood.

Cindy imagined Beverly hadn’t been immune to Luke’s sex appeal, either. What living, breathing woman could miss it? Though Beverly was at least ten years older than Luke, she’d batted her eyelashes at him like a teenage girl with a crush.

He was impossible to ignore, though Cindy was trying her hardest.

“Maybe you missed what just happened,” Luke said tightly, “but I’m trying my best to keep you and Adam together, not strip him away from you.”

Cindy knew what he said was true. That was what Luke was all about—keeping families together. He was the best lawman Cottonwood had ever seen. And though he was adept at solving crimes—the few there were in their little town—his main priority had always been helping kids, keeping them in school, keeping them off drugs. He volunteered a ton of hours at schools and churches and rec centers, organizing after-school sports programs and homework study groups.

“I’m sorry, Luke,” she finally said. “This whole thing has just thrown me so off balance. I feel like a stray mother cat, hissing and clawing at anyone who comes near, even people trying to help.”

She reclaimed her seat on the banquette, opened the jar of cereal and quietly began to feed Adam. Just recently he’d started grabbing the spoon on his own, trying to shove food into his own mouth. Today she didn’t have the patience to clean up the results of such efforts, so they both held on to the spoon, managing to get most of the cereal into Adam rather than onto his shirt. He had bibs, but she didn’t know where they were.

“You can’t just ignore me and hope I’ll go away,” Luke continued. “You have to start dealing with the reality of your situation.”

She sighed. “I know.”

“I have an idea. There’s a carriage-house apartment behind my house. It hasn’t been used in years, but if memory serves, it has a bathroom and a kitchenette.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t afford rent.” It was the first excuse that came to mind. What she really couldn’t afford was to install herself so close to Luke. She was not immune to his appeal, despite all the years that had passed since they’d been lovers. Eight years of marriage, a baby plus her whirlwind affair—what else could she call it?—with Dex/Marvin, and she’d never once gone to sleep at night without at least a fleeting thought to her first love and what might have been if they’d wanted the same things out of life.

She didn’t need that right now. Lord knew, the last thing she could use in her life was a man, even if he was promising to help her out of a jam. Anyway, she didn’t trust herself. She had the good judgment of a fungus, given her recent history.

“Did I say anything about rent? Come on, Cindy, the apartment’s just sitting there. It’s not much, and it’ll have to be cleaned out and fixed up a bit, but it should make Social Services happy.”

“I really wish you’d just leave me alone.”

He stared at her, challenging, for a few seconds before dropping his gaze. “Yeah, I’ll go. But you’ll have to answer a few questions, first.”

“Whatever.”

“What should I tell Beverly Hicks when she comes calling tomorrow or the next day?”

“Tell her we changed our minds.”

“Uh-huh. And when she comes back here? She will, you know. It’s her job. You might think she’s a nitpicking pain in the butt, but she cares about children or she wouldn’t be in that line of work. And she’s not going to sweep this under the rug. She’ll be back, and next time she will take Adam. And if you won’t give him up willingly, she will summon the law—me—to enforce her decision.”

“Can she do that?” Cindy asked, feeling truly afraid for the first time.

He nodded grimly, his fists so tight he could feel his skin tightening over the knuckles. “It happens all the time. It happened to me, Cindy. And my mother never got me back.”

Chapter Four

Luke didn’t like bringing up his past. In all the time he’d known Cindy, even when they’d been in love and inseparable, he’d revealed little about his life before arriving in Cottonwood at age fourteen. Whenever she’d prompted him, he’d found a way to avoid giving her any real information.

As far as Cindy knew, Luke’s life had begun at age fourteen when he’d landed with Polly Ferguson, the only foster parent who’d known how to handle him—the only one he’d ever stayed with longer than six months. He considered her his real mother now, and his foster brother, Mike Baskin, was as close as any flesh-and-blood sibling.

So, no, he didn’t like dredging up the more painful memories. But that had seemed the only way to shake Cindy out of her complacency. And it had. She’d agreed to move into his carriage house, though he could tell it had galled her to accept what she saw as charity. But better that than losing her son, even temporarily.

He’d needed to take care of some sheriffing business, but he returned to the marina later that afternoon with a horse trailer. He and Cindy loaded up her meager belongings in about five minutes.

“Adam will need a crib,” she said, breaking a long silence. “Do you think that awful Ed LaRue will let me get the old one from my—from his house?”

“He put all your furniture out in the street,” Luke said. “I drove by your place earlier, just to check on things.”

“I guess I don’t blame him. He was probably madder than a cornered javelina hog to find all that junk I left behind.” She actually grinned at the thought. “I probably should have put it in storage or something,” she admitted. “It was just garage-sale stuff, nothing good, but I might need it.”

“Let’s go see what’s there.” Luke was encouraged to hear Cindy actually thinking ahead more than ten minutes. She’d always been a girl with plans—big plans. To see her in survival mode, refusing to think about tomorrow, much less next month or next year, was painful.

Luke was relieved to see Cindy’s furniture still lined up at the edge of her yard—Ed’s yard—with a big sign stuck to her dining room table that said Free Stuff.

“I don’t see the crib,” Cindy said. “Probably somebody took it already. And my bed isn’t here, either. Damn, what was I thinking?”

“Nobody really expected you to be thinking clearly after what happened to you. It’s okay. I bet Polly has an extra crib. Which of this stuff do you want?”

“All of it,” she said decisively, rolling up the sleeves of her sweatshirt. “Whatever I can’t use, I’ll sell.”

“That’s the spirit.” It was wonderful to hear that determination in her voice and see a sparkle in her eye. They loaded up a table and chairs, some bookshelves, a sofa, nightstands, a couple of lamps and pictures and a TV cabinet.

“I guess the TV and VCR are gone,” she said wistfully as they pushed and shoved the furniture so it would all fit. “What was I thinking?”

“Stop questioning yourself so much, honey.” The endearment slipped out, and Luke resisted slapping his hand over his mouth. Her eyes flashed at him, but that was all. “Cut yourself some slack, okay? Focus on the future.”

“Yeah, the future,” she murmured.

She was going to have to make some major readjustments in her thinking. Nowhere in her wildest imaginings had she pictured herself broke and without a source of income. She’d always worked—always. And though she’d never been exactly wealthy, she’d never wanted for anything basic, even those years she’d lived in a truck. Of course, she hadn’t had a baby in tow.

“So, do you have any plans?” Luke asked, forcing the question to sound casual.

“I haven’t thought much about it,” she admitted as he closed the tailgate on the trailer. They got back into his Blazer. Adam was snoozing in his car seat in back, and not even the slam of the tailgate had awakened him.

He would be such a great traveling companion, she thought for the umpteenth time. And dammit, she wasn’t giving up on the idea of traveling with him. She just had to figure out how. “I guess I’ll have to get a job.”

“In a restaurant?”

“Maybe, though I can’t think of any place around here that’s looking for help.”

“What else are you qualified to do?”

“Drive. But I can’t see me driving without Jim. And without my own rig…” She stopped there, thinking about Jim’s truck, how he’d fixed it up so fine and painted his own logo on the sides. He’d had dreams of owning his own fleet of trucks. It would have happened, too. He’d have made it happen.

She swallowed back tears. Oh, God, she couldn’t start crying again. When she started, she had a hard time stopping. And she didn’t want Luke to see her weeping. He must already think she was a candidate for a straitjacket.

“Trucking isn’t a safe job for a woman alone, much less with a child,” Luke commented as he pulled his Blazer into the street, the trailer rattling behind them.

“No,” she agreed, grateful he’d eased over the awkward moment. If he’d offered sympathy, she’d have lost it.

“So the restaurant industry is your best bet. But you should be more ambitious. You’ve got management experience now—managing a staff, keeping the books…”

“Who in their right mind would trust me with money?” She sighed. “Anyway, that sort of job would require me to put together a résumé and go through interviews. I’d rather just walk in someplace, put on an apron and wait tables.” She knew she sounded pathetically unambitious.

Luke didn’t say anything else about her future. He was probably frustrated with her attitude, and she couldn’t blame him. She just wasn’t herself.

He pulled in the driveway of his house—a big, old, prairie-style frame home with a front porch that spanned its entire width.

“This house is bigger than I remembered,” she said idly. “I thought you’d have filled it full of kids by now.”

“What woman would have me?” he quipped, but his smile seemed slightly forced. He pulled all the way around to the back, where there was a detached garage—three narrow stalls with a second story above them. “I haven’t been inside the carriage house in a long time. Last time I checked, it was okay, though.”

And what if it isn’t now? Cindy wondered.

They parked and climbed out. Adam was awake now, looking around curiously. Odd that he’d slept through the slamming trailer door, but pulling quietly into a driveway had awakened him. Cindy had long suspected he was extremely sensitive to her moods. Now he sensed her anxiety about her new temporary home.

The baby held his arms toward Cindy. “Ma-ma-ma-ma.”

She grinned. “Luke, did you hear that? He said mama.”

“Is that the first time?” Luke seemed to share her wonder. He came around to her side of the car and peered in at Adam when she opened the back door.

“He’s been vocalizing for a while now, and sometimes it’s hard to tell whether he’s actually saying something or just babbling.” She unbuckled the various straps on the car seat and extracted Adam. “But that was pretty clear. He was looking at me and reaching for me and saying mama.” She hugged her son. “You’re such a smart boy, aren’t you, Adam.” Those pesky tears returned to her eyes, but these weren’t tears of despair. She was suddenly awash in sentimentality. And there was Luke, standing too close, almost touching, and she felt as if she ought to be resentful toward him due to the simple fact that he wasn’t Jim, he wasn’t Adam’s father, and a boy’s father should be there when he speaks his first words.

But resentment was only a tiny part of what she felt. It was such a bittersweet moment, and mostly she was just glad that she’d been able to share it with someone. She’d borne so much all alone since Jim’s death. Adam had only been two months old. Jim had missed his first steps, his first tooth, the ear infection that had sent her flying to a Tyler hospital in a dead panic. Then her mother’s unexpected death.

No wonder she’d turned to Dex so easily. Finally there had been someone to lean on, someone to confide in and share the burden as well as the joys. She must have been an incredibly easy target.

All at once, she couldn’t keep the tears at bay and she sobbed.

“Cindy?”

She couldn’t bear the concern in Luke’s voice. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to put her arms around him and never let go. But then she’d be doing it again, falling all over the first man to show an interest in her, the first man to act as if he cared.

With Dex, all he’d really cared about was getting into her bed and her bank accounts. She knew Luke didn’t want to steal her money. But what did he want, really? And was she in any position to figure it out?

“I’m s-sorry.” She wiped her eyes, getting the tears under control before they could turn into a full-fledged crying jag. “Sometimes it just h-hits me.”

Thankfully Luke didn’t make a big deal of it. He grabbed a couple of tissues from a travel box he kept in his glove compartment and handed them to her. Then he busied himself with finding the key to the carriage house while she wiped her eyes and blew her nose while juggling Adam from hip to hip.