The Lawman's Holiday Wish
His face said maybe. Maybe not. From a cop’s perspective, his reluctance to agree made sense. From hers?
His reticence was another chunk in a well-built wall. A wall she needed to scale or break down, one brick at a time. She looked beyond him to the terraced village leading down to the water’s edge. Yellowing foliage blocked the shoreline view. Once the leaves turned completely, they’d fall. The holiday season would be at hand, her first Thanksgiving and Christmas with her girls in years. That was enough, wasn’t it?
Unless you shouldn’t have come back at all. The insidious whisper crawled up from somewhere deep within. The girls are struggling and your effect on the family business may prove disastrous. Who exactly are you helping by your presence in Kirkwood?
Her hands went cool and clammy. A shiver that had nothing to do with the fall weather crept up her spine. “My decision to come home—to fix things—might be more a detriment than a help,” she admitted. “And that’s the reality I wake up to each morning these days.” She turned and moved toward her mother’s car, knowing her past limited her future, but those do-overs she talked about? The ones that weren’t possible?
Oh, how she wished they were.
* * *
A detriment?
Impossible, thought Luke. Not with her face, her hair, those eyes, storm-cloud gray, deep and luminous. Eyes that held a constant mix of emotions. Her life held a blend of misdeeds and misfortune, sure, but everyone had a past, including him, and smart folks knew enough to let it be. Unfortunately, not everyone in town saw things that way.
The urge to protect and defend rose within him, but Luke sloughed it off. He’d loved a woman with issues once, and losing her had nearly killed him. It had killed his faith and a good share of his hope, at least until they’d found Aiden, unharmed. Hope had bloomed that day, within a cloud of sorrow.
Aiden came first, from that point forward. “I’d like to offer you a proposition. About our kids. ”
Rainey looked at him, confused, and Luke smiled. “Aiden loves your girls. I’ve been working overtime since you got back home, and with all the drama at the farm, I knew your family was crazy busy.”
They had been fighting off an eminent domain petition put forth by the town supervisor. For a few weeks, tensions ran high, until the town ruled in favor of McKinney Farms. Still, Luke’s words were only half-true. He’d avoided his friend’s farm because Rainey was back. Coming face-to-face with a woman who’d abandoned her children didn’t make his short list. Fate had decided otherwise today. “Aiden comes out of his shell when the twins are around.”
“Okay...” She drew the word out, as if wondering where he was going. But she was willing to listen.
“I was thinking we could strategize together. Dorrie brings out the adventurer in Aiden when they play together. Aiden brings out the protector in Sonya. And together they help Dorrie think twice before getting into trouble. What if we set up a way to help them help us?”
“You mean playdates?
He shrugged lightly. “Beyond that. Like our own little classes to help reinforce good behavior. Does that make sense to you?”
Rainey paused, thinking. “I can’t give you an answer right off. First, because it sounds good and that means there’s most likely a flaw we’ve overlooked.”
He nodded, but the only flaw he saw was that being around Rainey could prove dangerous to his heart. Luckily, he believed in aspirin therapy and a good diet. Except for nachos on game days. And strawberry-rhubarb pie. He wasn’t opposed to ice cream from McKinney’s Dairy Store, either.
“Second, I don’t wade into unknown waters. I think and pray, and that’s stopped me from doing and saying a lot of stupid things as an adult. Including some of the thoughts that ran through my mind in that meeting.” She frowned in the direction of the school.
Her honesty made him smile. “I concur.”
“Third.” She met his gaze. And while he read the uncertain shadows in her eyes, she proved she had them under control with her next words. “Getting involved with anyone isn’t on my agenda, Luke. So if this is your version of a pickup line, you get a gold star for ingenuity. But I’m not interested.”
Her eyes said the words weren’t quite accurate. She was interested but didn’t want to be.
Well. That made two of them.
Her firm stance said she wouldn’t budge an inch. And that made Luke wonder—for just a moment—if he could convince her otherwise.
He let go of that thought instantly, but it came back to haunt him after they agreed to talk later in the week, and said their goodbyes.
The deal was good for both of them. And he couldn’t pretend that spending time with Rainey would be punishment. Not with that face, that hair, that voice.
He refocused his thoughts on the kids, three rascals who needed time and space to establish their roots. His mother believed good family roots allowed for great wings, and Luke was determined Aiden should have both, even if he’d been reluctant to follow through in the past. Maybe with Rainey’s girls around more often, the three of them could attain more solid ground together.
Chapter Two
Rainey strode down the hall to Miss Patterson’s room on Friday afternoon. Mr. O’Mara met her at the door. “I’m sorry we had to call you in, Rainey, but we’ve got a situation here.”
Mr. O’Mara was the kind of principal that kept his cool. Today he looked exasperated. At her? At the twins? She didn’t know. “How can I help?”
Her words softened his expression. “Come over here.” He walked to a door on the far side of the empty room.
“Where are the kids?” She glanced around the classroom. Bright-toned fall leaves decorated a mural of trees on two walls. Alphabet squares took the place of fruit and nuts among the branches, an inviting way of introducing letters to small children. “Art class? Music?”
“We took them into the gym for playtime so they wouldn’t witness adults pulling their hair out over the antics of two miscreants.” Miss Patterson bit the words through tight teeth, looking none too pleased. Was it Rainey’s presence or the twins’ misbehavior that pushed her this far?
“Sonya and Dorrie, this is Mommy speaking. Come out of there. Now.”
“Dorrie’s not in there.”
A deep voice rumbled from Rainey’s left, and she didn’t have to turn to see the deputy sheriff’s broad chest and shaved chin, he was suddenly standing so close. Warmth emanated from his dark blue uniform shirt. His tie was crooked, as if he’d loosened it, unthinking. He was hatless right now, and his blond-brown hair curled slightly, even cut short. “Aiden and Sonya have locked themselves in the closet.”
Rainey couldn’t resist. “That’s a pretty bold move for a couple of shy kids.”
“But we’d prefer they embolden themselves in a socially acceptable manner,” interjected Miss Patterson, unamused. “Rather than disrupt the entire afternoon lesson with this nonsense.”
Luke shifted slightly. His shoulders rose. His chest broadened. To save them from the outburst she figured was coming, Rainey stretched out a hand. “Give me the key and I’ll open the door.”
Mr. O’Mara frowned. Miss Patterson looked suddenly guilt-stricken.
Luke’s mouth dropped open as realization struck. “You don’t have a key to this door?”
“It appears to be missing.”
“Because I haven’t needed to lock this closet ever.” Miss Patterson’s voice tightened. “Therefore there was no need for a key. Until today, that is.”
“Have you called a locksmith? Doesn’t the janitor have a master set of keys?”
Mr. O’Mara nodded. “We’ve called in a locksmith from Clearwater, but he can’t get here for another hour. And for some reason, it appears that Mr. Gordon doesn’t possess a key to this particular door, either.”
“So you have a door in the kindergarten classroom that locks from the inside, but has no key?”
“As I said...” Miss Patterson drew herself up to her full five-foot-two-inch height, as if posturing would help the situation. “We haven’t needed one—until today.”
“That doesn’t eliminate the negligence of not having one,” Luke offered. His tone was mild, but tension rolled off him. “Right now my son is locked in a closet and we can’t get him out. With Aiden’s history...”
Rainey had no idea what Aiden’s history was, but a giggle from the closet interrupted Luke.
A second giggle joined the first.
Clearly, the two children were more at peace with the situation than the four adults gathered around the door.
“Aiden Campbell, open that door. Now.”
Silence reigned momentarily before being broken by another laugh.
Rainey nudged Luke with her elbow. When he turned, she swept his sheriff’s attire a quick glance. “He’s obviously in awe of the uniform. And your authority.”
Luke sighed and eyed the hinges before shifting his attention to the principal. “Can we pop the hinges?”
Mr. O’Mara shook his head. “They appear slightly warped, so no. We can’t.”
More whispers and giggles from inside the closet weren’t helping the situation, although Rainey was tempted to laugh right along with the two naughty kids. What did that say about her lack of parenting ability?
Miss Patterson’s anxiety was sky-high, and Mr. O’Mara had gone from frustrated to angry with himself. “It’s certainly a situation we’ll rectify now that we’ve been made aware of it. The lack of key and the bad hinges. But in the meantime...” He cast a glance to the locked closet. “We have a problem.”
“Call Dorrie in here,” Luke advised.
Rainey turned, puzzled.
Mr. O’Mara seemed surprised at the request, as well. Miss Patterson rolled her eyes. “That’s a big help.”
“It could be.” Luke’s tight tone said Miss Patterson was skating on thin ice. His grim expression said he found the teacher’s behavior unacceptable. “Dorrie’s got a knack for dealing with these two, as odd as that might seem. Shall I get her?” he asked Mr. O’Mara.
The principal turned on his walkie-talkie. “I’ll have her sent right over.”
Moments later, Dorrie skipped into the room, one pigtail dangled low, half undone. The other still hung neatly in place with a perky purple ribbon. She looked happy, spunky and delightfully normal. “Mommy! Luke! What are you doing here?”
Luke cut straight to the chase. “Sonya and Aiden have locked themselves in this closet. Can you get them to come out, please?”
“Well, yeah. Sure.” She bounced across the room, tapped on the door twice, paused, then tapped twice again.
“Dorrie!”
“Dorrie, you’re here!”
Two little voices chimed her name in unison.
Luke met the principal’s curious glance. “That’s the secret knock they use in their tree house at my place.”
“Ah.”
“Why are you guys in the closet?” Dorrie asked.
Not one of the adults had asked the kids why they’d locked themselves in there.
“Sonya was sad,” Aiden explained.
Oh... Rainey’s heart melted a little, thinking of how kind Luke’s son must be.
“So she hid in the closet?” Dorrie’s tone said that was kind of a dumb thing to do.
“No.” Sonya’s voice this time. “I went to a thinking place, like we do at Luke’s. In the tree house. And Aiden said he wanted to think, too.”
“Well, are you done?” Dorrie’s voice hovered near impatience. “Because I’ve got things to do and if you’re done thinking, then get out of there. Okay?”
“All right.”
“Okay.”
The adults waited, almost not breathing, watching for the handle to turn. Listening for the lock to disengage.
Click.
The tiny sound had them all breathing a sigh of relief. The door handle turned, paused, then turned again, and when the door swung outward, two little hands were clutching the knob.
“We did it!”
“Yeah, we did!” Aiden and Sonya high-fived each other, but their joyous expressions faded when they spotted the crowd of adults just outside the door.
Luke scooped up Aiden.
Rainey did the same to Sonya.
Dorrie arched a brow at both children. “Guys, you can’t do that in kindergarten.” She flounced her one tight ponytail for effect. “You have to stay in your chair and think.”
Sonya rolled her eyes, amazed. “No one can do that.”
Aiden sent Dorrie a similar look, then buried his head in Luke’s shoulder.
“Let’s walk down to my office, shall we?” Mr. O’Mara’s request held a mixture of relief and consternation. “Miss Patterson, we’ll let you return to the rest of your class.”
Luke didn’t seem relieved to have his kid out of a scrape as much as furious that this had happened in the first place.
Was there something wrong with Rainey that she wasn’t so upset? She was amused, yes. Angry? Not so much.
But she and Miss Sonya would have a heart-to-heart talk about locking doors, once they got home.
Mr. O’Mara pointed to the bench outside his office. “If the kids would like to sit here while we talk, that would be fine.”
“Fine?” Luke sputtered the word and held his son tighter. “Mr. O’Mara, nothing about this whole situation could be called fine. You put my kid at risk. You put Sonya at risk. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that you put an entire kindergarten class at risk by not having a key to that art closet.”
“Maybe not the whole kindergarten,” Rainey murmured. When Luke stared at her, she shrugged. “It’s only big enough to hold two or three kids at a time, tops.”
“This isn’t funny.” The clipped note in his voice underscored his emotion.
Rainey reached up to touch Aiden’s cheek, then ruffled Sonya’s hair. “It is, kind of. I think it shows great resourcefulness that these two took a calming technique you taught them and put it to good use. But next time, don’t lock the door.” She made eye contact with both kids, one at a time. “Locked doors are dangerous if we don’t have a key.”
“Exactly.” Luke’s glare said she’d finally made a good point.
“So we’ll get a key for that door, but only grown-ups will use it. And if you need thinking time away from the other kids, what should you do?”
Sonya shrugged.
Aiden glared at her, much like his father was doing.
“Tell a grown-up,” Rainey instructed. “Grown-ups are on your side. I promise.” She settled a look of honest, trusting patience on each child in turn, praying the sincerity of her words would reach them. From what she could see, she was successful, and she wasn’t afraid to thank God for that.
If only there was a similar way to comfort the distraught father standing opposite her. The deep contours of his face said calming him down wasn’t going to be quite as easy.
* * *
Luke felt Aiden’s body relaxing in his arms.
Mr. O’Mara looked more comfortable, too, as if he was buying Rainey McKinney’s spiel.
Buying it? Of course he’s buying it. She made perfect sense, while you were about to jump off the deep end, trying to make Aiden’s life “Secret Service safe.” Let the kid fly a little.
His mother had scolded him about that not long ago, and Luke didn’t talk to her for nearly a week, but finally had to give in. First, because she was right. Second, because he couldn’t go seven days without her chicken biscuit pie.
He drew a deep breath and felt his overanxious heart start to settle down.
“Mr. O’Mara, did you have something you wanted to add?” Seeming quite at ease, Rainey shifted her attention to the principal.
He shook his head. “I think you covered it all, Rainey.”
“Then you—” Rainey set Sonya down and squatted next to her “—scoot back to your classroom, and behave yourself. The bus will bring you home in one hour.”
“You’re not taking me home now?” Sonya looked scared, as if worried what her teacher’s reaction would be. Luke wondered the same thing himself, but Rainey simply shook her head.
“You need to be brave every day. And follow directions. That’s how life is, cupcake, and I’d be doing you no favor by babying you.”
Luke wanted to hug Sonya. Reassure her. Tell her everything would be all right. Then hold her hand and take her home.
To his surprise, Sonya sent a resigned look to her mother, then walked slowly down the hall. She turned to glance over her shoulder as she stepped into the kindergarten room, but Rainey kept her gaze averted, as if she expected the daughter to follow directions.
And the kid did it.
Luke eyed Aiden.
He should do the same thing. Put his son down and let him go face the dragon lady on his own.
He started to set Aiden down, but the boy clung to his neck. He didn’t say a word, didn’t whimper or whine, but that stranglehold on Luke’s neck spoke volumes. “I’m going to drop Aiden off with his sitter, then send him back on Monday.”
“All right, Luke.” Mr. O’Mara looked as if he wanted to say more, but thought better of it. The principal had made a wise choice, considering Luke’s current mood.
He walked out of the building just behind Rainey and wasn’t sure if she was hurrying to stay ahead of him, or to make certain she escaped before Sonya or Dorrie did something else. Either way, he needed to thank her. “Rainey.”
She turned at the edge of the parking lot. “Yes?”
Luke shrugged his free shoulder. “Thank you. You stayed calm and levelheaded. It helped. A lot.”
She waved him off as if it was nothing, but Luke knew better. Staying calm under pressure was a wonderful trait, something he prided himself on.
Except when it came to Aiden.
He followed her to her car at the back of the full lot. “Have you thought about what I said the other day?” He shifted the boy slightly in his arms. “You saw Dorrie in there. You heard how things went down. I think it could work in everyone’s favor.”
Rainey stood perfectly still for a long, drawn-out moment, then smiled at Aiden. “We’ve got nothing to lose, right?”
“Right.”
She hesitated again, then nodded. “How about if I bring the girls over tomorrow afternoon? The store is busy on Saturday mornings, but if Noreen can take over by midday, we’d have a few hours together. Dorrie wants to show me the tree house and Sonya wants me to help her take care of the animals.”
“Bring your barn boots,” Luke warned. The image of Rainey hanging out in the barn, feeding his menagerie, brightened his thoughts. That was something he’d have to think about later.
Rainey laughed. “Will do. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She slipped behind the wheel of her mother’s car and backed out of the spot carefully. Aiden lifted his head and offered Luke a penitent expression. “I’m sorry.” He whispered the words in a tragic voice, a voice that took Luke back nearly three years.
He hugged the little guy, withdrew the booster seat he kept in the cruiser’s trunk, and fastened Aiden into the backseat. “No more locked doors, okay?”
Aiden nodded, but as Luke settled himself into the driver’s seat, he glimpsed a tiny look of satisfaction on his son’s face reflected in the rearview mirror. It vanished as soon as they made eye contact, but Luke hadn’t gotten to be a decorated deputy by accident. The kid had smirked, knowing he’d pulled one over on his teacher, the principal and now his father.
Which meant Luke’s mother was right. Again. Aiden knew how to play his dad and wasn’t afraid to pull out all stops to avoid going to school. But what could Luke do about it other than order the kid to stay in class, in his seat, and pay attention?
Luke called his former sister-in-law and asked if she could watch Aiden an hour early. She agreed, and he headed to the opposite side of Kirkwood Lake, stewing over his choices.
Rainey’s kid was back in class, following the rules.
His was heading home, essentially getting a reward for misbehaving.
Luke didn’t have to wonder which kid learned the better lesson. The realization that Rainey had instinctively handled the situation more effectively than all the other adults around her, including him, made him realize he might have a thing or two to learn from Rainey McKinney himself.
* * *
Regret waged war with common sense as Rainey drove back to the farm. Sonya’s expression of woe had tugged at Rainey’s heart, even though she’d pretended ignorance.
“Better they cry now than you cry later....”
Her mother’s words struck home. She’d gone easy on Rainey as a child. And Rainey had strayed from the right path and caused her mom grief. But they’d both learned a valuable lesson the hard way, and Sonya and Dorrie would benefit from it. She hoped.
Rainey’s brain revved into overdrive as she passed the park sign: Kirkwood Lake Bicentennial Kickoff! Join us for a Fall Festival of fun and food as Kirkwood Lake begins its year-long, 200-years-young birthday celebration!
Piper and Lucia had reserved a festival spot during the bicentennial planning phases last spring. There was plenty of room to include a dairy booth. That would give Rainey a chance to meet folks, show them she’d changed and tempt them with the wonderful goods from the dairy store. Tackling the problem head-on might bring back old customers and attract new ones, crucial elements for the upcoming holiday season.
Can you do this? Face people, hour after hour, keeping your game face on?
Her resolve faltered as she turned into the farm driveway, but then she hauled in a deep, cleansing breath.
God had blessed her.
She was stronger now than she’d ever been. Sure, she’d take hits. After the cool welcome she’d encountered in town the first month, she’d be naive to expect otherwise.
But she was made of hardy stock, and endowed with a faith that moved mountains. Determined, she parked the car and dashed into the house for a notepad and pencil, before going on to the dairy store located behind the farmhouse. As she rushed through the empty dining room, the afternoon light shone on Christmas pictures of Dorrie and Sonya.
So much time gone. Memories Rainey could never be part of because she hadn’t been here.
The twins were dressed alike in the first picture, but even then Dorrie’s eyes had gleamed with mischief, while Sonya’s gentle gaze begged for love. The next image showed them a year older, sitting with Santa at the Fireman’s Hall. The girls had posed with the jolly old elf individually, then together in front of a huge Christmas tree. To the right of the tree was a beautiful crèche, carved figures of the Holy Family in a rugged wooden barn.
The final picture showed the girls last year, playing angels in a living Nativity scene sponsored by a local church. They’d been dressed in white bedsheets, their latte-toned skin contrasting with their robes. Gold garland halos nestled against their dark hair. Beyond them lay a sheep and a lamb, while slightly older children played the parts of Mary, Joseph and the wise men.
It wrenched Rainey’s heart.
She lifted the first picture, of the girls as adorable toddlers. Was she wrong to have left?
Probably. But her leaving had ensured the girls safety and that was what mattered. Rogue cops were nothing to be taken lightly, and bad cops who’d had witnesses disappear before?
They’d posed a direct threat thwarted by her whistle-blowing phone calls.
This year would be different. She wouldn’t spend this Christmas alone, crying as she tended animals in an empty veterinary clinic outside Chicago. She’d be here in Kirkwood, with the girls and her mother. With Uncle Berto, Piper and the Harrison family next door. For the first time in three years Rainey wouldn’t dread the change of seasons and the lonely holiday. This year she’d join in the celebration, because this year she was home. And no matter what happened, she was home to stay.
She joined Noreen in the store and used the next few hours to roughly sketch how she’d like the dairy booth to look.
At seven o’clock, she closed the store and headed for the house, reenergized. The family gathered for a meeting each Friday night, where everyone aired ideas and compared notes. At tonight’s get-together she’d convince them to let her put her best foot forward. No matter what, she had to make them listen to her concerns about the loss of business. And take action. Even if it meant Rainey had to find a different job. She crossed the wide yard and hurried into the house.