Loving the Lawman

Safe in His Arms

Widowed and pregnant, Gianna Costanza comes to Kirkwood Lake with her world in pieces. She’s determined to put her life back together after her cop husband’s death, and romance definitely isn’t part of the plan. But when she meets her new landlord and neighbor, she knows she doesn’t stand a chance. Deputy Sheriff Seth Campbell is strong and kind, and more supportive than she ever imagined a man could be. Soon he’s sweeping Gianna off her feet. But she doesn’t know if he’s ready for an instant family—or if she’s brave enough to love another lawman.

Oh, that smile.

Her heart melted. Her fingers stuttered and a pin bit the tip of her thumb. She jumped back, not wanting to taint the fabric with blood, and Seth moved to her instantly. “Are you hurt?”

“No, just silly.”

He examined her hand, seemed to decide she’d live and dropped it back into her lap. “Sorry. You just looked scared there for a minute.”

“Only because blood won’t wash out of this fabric,” she told him. She pressed a tissue to the tip of her finger.

He smiled again, one that held the warmth of hope. “Well.” He stood and squared his shoulders. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“Then I’ll get back to work.”

“Me, too.”

As she watched him cross the room, she knew she hadn’t spent time with an attractive man in a long while.

That slow, comforting gaze. The big, blue eyes.

He didn’t need her to impress him. She liked that. And she’d enjoy the opportunity to have a new friend, as long as that was all it was.

RUTH LOGAN HERNE

Born into poverty, Ruth puts great stock in one of her favorite Ben Franklinisms: “Having been poor is no shame. Being ashamed of it is.” With God-given appreciation for the amazing opportunities abounding in our land, Ruth finds simple gifts in the everyday blessings of smudge-faced small children, bright flowers, freshly baked goods, good friends, family, puppies and higher education. She believes a good woman should never fear dirt, snakes or spiders, all of which like to infest her aged farmhouse, necessitating a good pair of tongs for extracting the snakes, a flat-bottomed shoe for the spiders, and for the dirt…

Simply put, she’s learned that some things aren’t worth fretting about! If you laugh in the face of dust and love to talk about God, men, romance, great shoes and wonderful food, feel free to contact Ruth through her website, www.ruthloganherne.com.

Loving the Lawman

Ruth Logan Herne

Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth.

Blessed is the man whose quiver is full.

—Psalms 127:3–5

Acknowledgments

First to Mandy and Paul, who gave me permission to use their experience to help craft this story. I’ve loved them both for decades, and that their love brought us my precious “Mary Ruth” sweetens my days! To my grandmother Myrtle Amanda Herne, whose love for sewing and gardening skipped a generation and settled in me. To Tina Russo Radcliffe and Michelle Pecoraro, whose tales of growing up Italian make me laugh! Huge thanks to Bethany Jamison, who pre-edits, organizes me, gives me time as needed and makes me coffee. She might not think she’s great in the kitchen, but that coffee is huge in my book! And to my son Seth, whose sweet personality shines through the fictional Seth in this book. The love for Lego has morphed into a lovely new sales career. How fun is that? And always to Dave for loving me and working so hard for his family. His strength blesses each of us.

This book is dedicated to Amanda Grace,

for going the distance so often. Her strength and persistence brought me a beautiful grandchild, a treasure of my heart, our sweet little Mary Ruth.

I love you, “Gracie.”

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Checking his watch for the tenth time in an hour didn’t make the minute hand move any faster. Deputy Sheriff Seth Campbell frowned as he started to relock the door of his Kirkwood, New York, rental property. Boxes surrounded him in the retail area, but the person in charge of those boxes—his new lessee—hadn’t appeared as scheduled. And that meant—

“Seth Campbell?”

He turned, surprised, because the back door of the old-world-style building faced the street, which was where he’d been looking. The lakeside door, overlooking the quaint boardwalk lining the sandy north shore of Kirkwood Lake, hadn’t entered into his realm of possibilities as an entrance in January. An icy wind accompanied the woman through the door. She shut it quickly and turned.

Huge, dark eyes met his gaze. Waist-length black curls tumbled from beneath a jaunty cap. A muted knit scarf that screamed money was knotted around the neck of her short wool jacket. Blue jeans and leather boots said she knew how to dress for fun, but one look into the depths of those eyes and Seth knew she hadn’t had a lot of fun lately.

“Gianna Costanza?” He stepped forward and offered his hand.

“Yes.” She gripped his hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you after all our virtual back-and-forth. I tried calling—” she held up a cell phone “—but it appears reception in these mountains is about as spotty as mine was back home in the Adirondacks.”

“Technology is an amazing thing when it works,” he agreed. He swept a hand around the shop interior. “Does it meet with your approval in person?”

Her quick smile said the character and warmth of the vintage space pleased her, and that pleased him. “I should pretend it’s not up to par and see if I can whittle you down on rent, but that would be outright dishonest, because if anything, it’s better than the pictures showed.”

“Not too rustic or old-world?”

“Is there such a thing?” She shook her head, and when she did, the tumble of hair shifted right, then left, untamed by spray, which made him wonder if it could possibly be as soft as it looked. She laughed at his expression, which said there might be such a thing as too old-fashioned, and walked to the nearest wall. “No, this is perfect. The wainscoting. The chair-rail ledge for knickknacks and artifacts.”

“Dust catchers,” he noted, grinning. “My mother’s a big fan of them, too. Can’t reason it out myself. Just more to clean.”

“Must be a woman thing.” She smiled up at him, then motioned to the right. “And the apartment is through here?”

“Yes.” He led her through a curtained door and showed her around the unpretentious apartment. “I had time to upgrade the shopping space, but the living area hasn’t received any intensive attention from my hands or bank account yet.”

“It looks fine,” she told him. “Simple and clean-cut. The furnishings are great. Having them here makes my life a whole lot easier right now. Starting a new business in a new town is work enough. Hauling tons of furniture five hours cross state didn’t make my short list.” She set a small, dark floral bag on the countertop. “The pictures showed a first-floor bedroom and a bath, right?”

“Right here.” He took her into a well-lit room off the living area, and her smile rewarded him when she spotted the lake view. “You like this.”

“My grandmother will love it,” she told him. She pointed east. “I have her enjoying coffee at Tina Marie’s Café. It was a long ride down and I’m afraid I tired her out.” She stepped to the left, opened a door with an unadorned left hand and made a little face. “The bathroom is great, but may I ask one more thing of you?”

As pretty as you are? Ask away, sweetheart.

Reason reined in his teasing reply. He invited her question with a simple raised brow instead. Her smile lit her face in anticipation, brightening those dark, round eyes, and making the gold tone of her skin shine. But hitting on her probably wouldn’t be the smartest move in the book because this was a business arrangement. Doing anything to make it go foul in a small, tight town would be stupid beyond belief, so he shoved the temptation to flirt aside.

“Could we install a bar in the shower? Is that too much work? Grandma gets around great, but I’m afraid she might slip if she doesn’t have something to hold on to.”

“Not a problem,” Seth assured her. “My father owns the hardware store on Main Street. I can get a support bar in place by Monday.”

“That would be wonderful, Seth.” She moved back toward the living space. “Can we see the upstairs?”

“Sure.” He let her precede him up the stairs, and her squeal of delight when she spotted the second floor made him smile. She turned in time to see the grin and made a face again.

“I’m sorry, I sound like a schoolgirl when I do that. It’s utterly ridiculous. But this is so pretty up here.”

Seth considered the two small bedrooms and the open lofted area overlooking the lake on one side and the living room and kitchen below. “It’s loud.”

She frowned.

“When there are people below, it’s loud up here,” he explained. “Terrible for sleeping.”

“Ah.” An understanding look said she was starting to get the picture. “You used to live here.”

“Before I bought my house, yes. It was a great investment. My grandmother’s family owned this building, so I bought it and fixed it up when I was fresh out of college.”

“And your buddies would come to stay.”

He nodded, then grinned, following her drift. “You’re thinking that Grandma might not be as loud and intrusive as a couple of Campbell boys and their partying friends.”

“Exactly. I don’t think Grandma’s knitting will keep me up, but thanks for the warning.”

* * *

He laughed, and Gianna’s heart went soft on the spot. A big laugh, hearty and full. The kind of laugh that saw lots of practice. She’d known that kind of laugh once. The sound of it called to her now, but she wasn’t here for romance....

Not by a long shot.

Although, Gram thought it was time for her to move on with her life, and had spent over five hours of driving time reminding her that when God closes a door, He always opens a window.

Gianna knew that, hence the complete change in her life. Decisions she’d made before her mother and aunt left to spend the cold, long months of an upstate winter in Florida. By the time they came back north...

She shoved that thought aside and smiled up at Seth. “I’ll have the moving van pull around to the apartment door and unload my things. You have keys for me?”

“Right here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two sets. “I keep a master set for myself, so if you ever lock yourself out, I’m just across the street on Overlook Drive.” He pointed through the window. “The white house with the porch on the double lot.”

“A perfect family home.” She smiled at the view and could just imagine a crew of kids racing around the wide, sloped front yard playing tag. Climbing the trees that were to the left.

Seth’s smile disappeared. His shoulders looked suddenly heavy, and she had the oddest urge to wrap her arms around the big guy and give him a hug. But with her behavior labeled strange if not crazy these past few years, she curbed the impulse. Life had a way of messing people over. She knew that. Lived it. But right here, right now, was the new beginning she’d grabbed hold of a few months back. Months of praying, planning and implementation would come to fruition in Kirkwood, New York, overlooking the lake of the same name. Here she would embrace the life taken from her. The peace and hope of a new day dawning. She’d have the winter to settle in, and by the time the busy season rolled around after an early-April Easter, she’d be facing a new reality.

Would her mother understand? Would she embrace and forgive, or rage on in a mix of Italian and English and then cook pasta for the multitudes of Bianchis?

Time would tell.

Gianna followed Seth down the open stairs. He turned at the door. “Do you have help to unload?”

“I do.” She pointed to the road, where a yellow moving van had pulled up. “My cousin and brother are my slaves for the moment. I promised them food to help me. They’re Italian men so it really doesn’t take much more than that.”

“That works well on us Scottish guys, too,” Seth admitted with a grin. She absolutely, positively refused to label his smile endearing or sweet. A smile was just a smile. Right?

One look up at him told her how wrong she was. Time to change the direction of her gaze. She turned and swung open the door to the small side porch. “The fact that I’m taking Gram off their hands sweetened the deal. Italian women are bossy by nature—something that doesn’t appear to wane with age.”

Seth laughed, understanding, while Gianna looked around the quiet, snow-filled, lakeside town. “She’s going to love it here. I could see that the minute we rolled into town. For Grandma, this is like coming home.”

Seth nodded agreement. “My grandma loved living in Kirkwood. It was her place, her town. Her history, she called it. Will your grandmother miss your old place?”

Gianna shook her head. “Not if there’s a sewing machine handy. I get my affection for old things from her. She taught me to sew when I was barely old enough to thread a needle, and I loved it. So this venture into my own brick-and-mortar business is a big step for both of us, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be content. I know I will.”

“Well, good.” He shoved his hands into his pockets as two dark-haired young men headed their way. “You guys need help?”

The taller one eyed the freshly shoveled driveway and shook his head. “I think we can back her up right here and unload to this porch. That way we can keep the snow and wet out of the house.”

“I agree.” The shorter man stuck out a hand to Seth. “I’m Mauro, Gianna’s cousin.”

Seth shook Mauro’s hand and turned toward the taller man. “That makes you the brother.”

“Joe Rinaldi. Nice to meet you. You’re the landlord?”

“Seth Campbell. I live over there.” Seth indicated his house with a general wave across the street. “If there’s anything your sister or grandmother need, I’m nearby.”

“Good to hear since her entire family and support network will be over five hours away, in good driving conditions. With the exception of my seventysomething grandmother.” Joe’s tone scolded, but Gianna knew he meant well. Protecting her had become the order of the day after she had lost Michael.

You didn’t lose him. He was taken from you. Stolen, in the dark of night. One simple moment of time, a twist of fate, and your life turned upside down.

It had, but she was determined to get her life back, with or without Bianchi approval. And about time, too. “Joe, really?” Gianna motioned to the truck. “Gram can outwork all of us, so it’s great to have her on board with this new venture. Back the truck in here and let’s get this done. We are not having this conversation again.”

“That’s because you don’t have to deal with the multitudes of relatives on both sides,” he called over his shoulder as he and Mauro headed back to the street. “But I’ll run interference for you. It’s what brothers do.”

Seth turned, arched a brow, and the look on his face said she’d just become more interesting. “You ran away from home, Gianna?”

She laughed and shrugged as she stepped back inside. “In a manner of speaking. My family is American by birth but old-world Italian by nature. They like their ducklings to stay close to the nest, marry other Italians and raise a bunch of cute Italian babies within five minutes of the family home. I’m bucking the trend.” She let her smile include the old-fashioned setting surrounding them. “But they’ll all be okay with it once I’m here and settled. The idea that I’m making a move like this while they’re in Florida is giving my mother and aunt agita.”

“Heart palpitations.”

She tipped her face up to him as he moved to the door. “You’re not Italian.”

“No, but I’ve got buddies who’ve caused their mothers a little agita now and again. I get it.”

She nodded as she held the door open. “They know we’re moving here, but I didn’t exactly do this with a nod of approval, if you know what I mean. By the time they come back north, Gram and I will be settled in. We’ll be sewing up a storm of vintage-looking clothing for retail and special orders, we’ll have the gently used clothing part of the store set up for business and all will be well with the world.”

“Spring is a wonderful thing around here.” Seth jutted his chin across the lamplit village road as he stepped outside. “Remember—I’m right over there if you need anything.”

“I won’t forget,” she promised. She watched him walk up the slick black asphalt and thought how solid and safe he looked. Square shouldered, light eyed, brown hair cut short, flat on top, a don’t-mess-with-me set to his jaw, his gaze. But when he smiled or laughed, his joy welcomed like a big, old hug.

And it was nice to know he lived close by. She’d mentioned that her mother was protective, but that was like calling a Category 4 hurricane a minor storm. She’d stretched the truth by minimizing her family’s love and care. She had to, because she’d taken other steps without her family’s knowledge, choosing a path that couldn’t be backtracked.

If Sofia Bianchi—her mother—knew what she’d done, she might think Gianna had totally lost it. And Mike’s mother, her former mother-in-law? Another battle to wage, even more difficult in some ways, but not yet. She’d bought time by moving this far away. Faith and time were what she needed right now. She had until spring to get things in order. Four months to make things happen before the older generation returned. And with Gram’s help, that was just what she intended to do.

* * *

The subzero windchill seemed less irksome as Seth strode toward the café in search of an early supper. The diner would have their every-Saturday meat-loaf special, but he wasn’t in the mood for meat loaf.

Tori hated meat loaf. Remember how often you pushed her to try it? Why did you do that? Was it really all that important?

Seth shoved the internal scolding aside to make room for the greater ache in his heart. Another Christmas gone. Another empty holiday put behind him. In the cold, late-day light of early January, darkness seeped into him.

What was she doing now? Was her mother cherishing her? Or was the girl’s presence cramping her mother’s style? And then what would Jasmine do?

Regret threatened to overtake him, but what would he change? Falling in love with the wild beauty of Jasmine on her good days? Or the grace and peace he found in the short years he’d had to father Jasmine’s daughter from a prior relationship? Tori. Sweet, earnest, yearning for love, happy with the smallest things, not an ounce of greed in her.

You’d change the abandonment, his inner voice scolded. And over two years of wondering where Tori is. What she’s doing. And if Jasmine is taking care of her, or putting herself first in typical style.

He had no way of knowing, and despite being a cop, no way of finding out. So he hoped...and prayed...and tried to leave it in God’s hands. But on quiet afternoons like this one, when there wasn’t enough work to grip his hands, much less his heart? On those days, his mind leaped to various scenarios of where Jasmine was now and who was caring for her beautiful, nearly twelve-year-old daughter.

Not one of the imagined scenes involved a picket fence and regular meals.

He sighed, hauled open the door to the café, forced a smile and hailed the owner. “Tina, how about a cup of coffee and one of your ham-and-Swiss panini?”

“With banana peppers, mustard and extra cheese.” She slid the mug across the counter to him, made a little face of understanding, then reached out and patted his cheek. “Seth, you old bear, you don’t wear your heart on your sleeve. It’s plastered across that gorgeous Campbell face of yours for all the world to see.”

“Long day.”

“I see that.” Her look of commiseration said she understood, but she couldn’t. No one could.

If you spend every long, cold, snowy day feeling sorry for yourself, this is going to be one wretched winter. Get a grip.

Seth hauled in a breath and couldn’t disagree with the mental reminder. His mother had framed a solid, plain-font version of the Serenity Prayer and hung it in his kitchen. On dark days like today, its simplicity helped. He still needed to learn to accept what couldn’t be changed, but he was trying harder, and that helped.

He turned to sit at one of Tina’s bistro-style tables and came face-to-face with a miniature woman wearing a black-and-white tweed coat. A bright red scarf lay draped around her neck. Coal-black eyes under a head of short, thick, straight dark hair said this had to be Gianna’s grandmother. Her bright smile confirmed it.

“Company! Just what I wanted!” She pulled out the chair opposite Seth and sat down with the authority of seven decades. “I’m pretty sure I’d be in the way over there—” she hooked a blunt thumb over her left shoulder indicating the western end of Main Street “—so they tucked me here, but winter afternoons in a lakeshore community aren’t exactly teeming with business.”

“Can’t argue that.” Tina smiled at the woman, refilled her coffee cup and set Seth’s sandwich down in front of him. “Seth, this is Carmen Bianchi. She’s moving into—”

“My place on the water.” He reached across the table to shake her hand, and the strength of her grip didn’t surprise him. Her knowledgeable look said she was letting the younger generation think they’d taken control. For the moment, she’d let them live under that illusion.

He liked her straight away. “Are you hungry, Mrs. Bianchi?” Seth indicated his sandwich and the bowl of fries that followed. “There’s plenty here. Or we can order you something.”

“I just finished a piece of Tina Marie’s ham-and-broccoli quiche, and it was excellent,” she explained, with a glance at the schoolhouse-style clock on the side wall. “I’ve already decided I’m going to annoy her by being a regular customer until she gives up the recipe.”

Tina grinned from behind the counter. “We love regular customers. Annoy away.”

“Somehow I don’t think you’re ever an annoyance, Mrs. Bianchi.” Seth handed over the basket of fries, smiled when she helped herself, and added, “Unless you’re bossing folks around who think they’re running the show.”

“I like a man who reads things well. You’re a cop, right?”

“A sheriff’s deputy,” Seth replied. “How’d you know?”

“You sat facing the door. You’re carrying a weapon in your back right waistband. Your eyes say gentle but your chin says you’ll do what needs to be done. My husband was a state trooper for thirty years.”

“You’re not too shabby at reading people yourself, Mrs. Bianchi.”

“Call me Carmen,” she told him, and helped herself to another fry. “And Tina Marie, you should come over here and chat with us until it gets busy.”

“Add matchmaker to her list of attributes,” Tina joked from where she was washing stoneware in the small, double sink. “I learned a long time ago to steer clear of the Campbell boys, though, so thanks anyway. Heartbreakers, every one.”