Her Surprise Hero

by Abby Gaines

  “I love him,” he said impatiently.

  “I know it, but he doesn’t,” she said. “How would he? What do people do when they love someone, Ethan? They tell them, they hug them, and most of all they get mad at them—no one makes you madder than the people you love. Sam commits crimes to get your attention and you stand there so calm and considered, as if he’s some kid who’s not related to you. Like his lawyer! I’ll bet you’ve never told Sam how mad he makes you, let alone how much you love him.”

  She was raving, but from his recoil, she guessed she was right. “It’s the same with your mom,” she said. “You both have all this resentment toward each other, but you won’t have a stand-up fight about it.”

  “Leave Linnet out of this.”

  “The kids in your program don’t need you to love them,” she continued. “But Sam…why do you think he’s still here in town, when he could be making his way in the world, the way you were at his age? He’s not lazy, and he makes good money at Al’s.”

  “How would I know why he’s still here?” Ethan stalked away. The orange light from the streetlamp fell on his face, accentuating harsh planes.

  “He’s still here on the chance that one day you’ll love him. The same with your mom—she’s been hanging around for years.” The same reason Cynthia was still jumping to do whatever her father wanted. She wanted to warn Ethan she’d had enough hanging around waiting to be loved, that she wouldn’t be prepared to do the same with him, but now wasn’t the time.

  “Ethan, you’re not an angry teenager who might snap at any moment. If you want a future with Sam, with your mom…with a woman…you have to give your heart. You can’t make headway with Sam until you stop looking at him as a troubled kid who needs guidance, and just see him as the infuriating son you love.”

  She didn’t have to see him to know his expression would have closed up. She was asking for way more honesty than he thought he could reveal.

  “Are you going to unlock this car?” he asked.

  She didn’t budge. “I know about dads who withhold affection, or seem to, for whatever reason. It hurts. Sam needs to believe you love him no matter what. He told me today he doesn’t think you love him at all.”

  He wheeled around. “Today?”

  Damn. “I went to see him at the park at lunchtime,” she said. “I realized he needed to know how you felt, and I understand you wouldn’t tell him.” When she said it aloud, she understood she’d taken a terrible liberty.

  “You went to see him…and then he went straight out and tried to start a fire?” Ethan’s voice was dangerously quiet.

  She swallowed. “He didn’t seem upset, but of course I have to consider that I might have—”

  “YOU HAVE WAY OVERSTEPPED the mark.” Fury welled inside Ethan, exacerbating the raw nerve Cindy’s words had struck. He’d spent years making sure he wasn’t the guy he used to be, and now she was saying he’d got it all wrong! “I love my son, and he’s smart enough to figure

  that out. He certainly doesn’t need you feeding him your variety of psychobabble.”

  “If you think you can express your emotions,” she said, “I dare you to tell me right now what you feel for me.”

  “What?” Where did that come from? How could he distinguish what he felt for her, with everything else going on?

  “Because I can tell you what I feel for you.” She drew a long breath. “When I’m with you, I get a glimpse of what my sisters have with their husbands. I get a glimpse of forever.”

  His heart pounded. Did she mean that?

  “See, it’s easy,” she said. “Your turn.”

  He swallowed. He could do this. Mad though he was about Sam, he could do this. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “And smart.”

  “Stop, you’re killing me.”

  He paced beneath the streetlamp. “Right, you want feelings? Here they are. I like talking to you, you make me laugh. You’re so forthright, and that takes a lot of courage. You stand by your opinions until the last possible moment, then you’re not afraid to say you made a mistake. You have a great attitude to family, you’d make a great mom—”

  “Stop!” She held up a hand. “Don’t recite a shopping list of my good qualities. I don’t want to be special to you, I want to be indispensable. A vital organ. Let me into your heart, Ethan. And while you’ve got the door open, let Sam and Linnet in, too.”

  “This is my heart!” he shouted. The words bounced off the pavement in the silence.

  “What you’ve just offered is like the antechamber, all cleaned up and put on show for visitors. I want to be where the messy stuff happens.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, his breath coming quickly. “No one goes there,” he said. “Not even me.”

  Cindy unlocked the car. “Then we don’t have anything at all.”

  CYNTHIA WOKE NEXT MORNING with the weight of the world on her chest and a bunch of new troubles knocking on her front door.

  Literally. When her 7 a.m. visitor pounded harder, she knew for sure it couldn’t be anything good.

  Unless…unless it was Ethan, here to say he’d been a total jerk and he was wrong and he loved her and could she please come right into his heart and pull up a chair.

  She hurried to the door, not caring that she was still in her pajamas. She was grinning as she flung the door open. “Hi!”

  Linnet stumbled backward at the warmth of the welcome.

  “Oh, uh, come in.” Cynthia colored, but didn’t explain herself. “I’ll go find my robe.”

  When she returned to the kitchen, Linnet was pouring boiling water into the coffee press.

  “Sorry to turn up so early,” the older woman said. “I heard what happened to Sam.”

  “Everyone knows already?” Cynthia said, aghast. What was the bet they’d be lining up down the street for a seat in court today. Judge kisses Ethan, Ethan’s son tries to burn down the community hall. She might as well stand up in court and announce to everyone that she and Ethan had broken up, just to cap it off.

  “I don’t think so,” Linnet reassured her. “Ethan called me.” Despite her worry, a wide smile stretched her mouth.

  “He did?”

  “Which is all thanks to you,” Linnet continued. “Before you came along, I’d have been left to find out after the rest of the world. But he said—” her eyes shone “—he knows how important I am to Sam and that I want what’s best for him.” She added doubtfully, “He seems to think counseling will help Sam.”

  Cynthia grimaced. So much for the hope that Ethan might have had an overnight epiphany.

  “I have no idea where to begin with that boy, and I don’t suppose he’s forgiven me for reporting him for shoplifting,” Linnet continued. “But if I can change, maybe Sam and Ethan can, too…” She stared down into her coffee.

  “I hope you’re right.” Cynthia didn’t want to disillusion her—Ethan would never change.

  “You care about my son,” Linnet said.

  She nodded. “I can talk to him like I can to no one else.”

  Linnet paused, the milk carton in midair. “You find Ethan easy to talk to?”

  “Well…yeah.” Cynthia started to laugh. “I’m not saying it works the other way around.”

  “Just goes to show,” Linnet said. “There’s always hope.”

  CYNTHIA HAD ASKED MELANIE to start work early, so they could be sure to be ready for Justice Pearson’s visit. She was expecting him at nine o’clock, and had delayed the start of court until ten, so they’d have time to talk first.

  She was as ready for him, from a professional perspective, as possible, she thought, as she aligned her computer keyboard with the edge of her desk. Although this wasn’t a formal interview, she’d written down her ideas about judging—not that she would read them to him, but so she was sure they made sense and she had them clear in her own mind. She’d had the Gazette profile of her and the mayor and sheriff framed. Tania had mentioned the broom closet in her article, but it had been put
in the context of Cynthia’s rapid career elevation. Sympathetic.

  “So, this hotshot justice is your boss?” Melanie asked as she ran a duster over the mantelpiece. Cynthia adjusted the robes she’d had cleaned after court yesterday, a rush job at Sparkle Linens.

  “Not exactly. He’s here to see how well I’m doing.”

  Melanie picked up Blind Justice, gave her a good wiping. “I always think this lady should take off her blindfold.”

  “The blindfold is the whole point,” Cynthia said. “She’s supposed to dispense justice based on the facts, without regard to race, color, creed and so on.”

  “But what about seeing people as people, not as part of a system?” Melanie asked. “Sometimes you need to really look at people, see beyond the facts.”

  “That’s true,” Cynthia said slowly.

  “Maybe she should just wear a patch over one eye,” Melanie suggested.

  Cynthia chortled. “Pirate Justice, a whole new form of law.”

  “I’m just saying…” Melanie set the figurine back on the mantel.

  “Excuse me, ladies.” Sheriff Davis had walked in without either of them noticing.

  “The door didn’t squeak,” Cynthia said, surprised.

  “I had the janitor oil it in honor of your guest today,” Melanie told her.

  “Thanks.” She was touched by the woman’s thoughtfulness. Except…now not only would people barge into her chambers, she wouldn’t hear them coming. She realized the sheriff’s expression was unusually somber. Her heart sank. “What’s the problem, Sheriff?” Please, don’t let it be Sam.

  “Just had word from Judge Piet’s son down Albany way,” the sheriff said. “The judge passed away last night.”

  Melanie gave a cry of distress.

  “I’m so sorry,” Cynthia said. “From what I hear, everyone liked him.”

  “It was peaceful, not a bad way to go,” the sheriff said. “You never met the guy, of course, but the news’ll be all around town by lunchtime, so I thought I’d tell you myself.”

  “He’ll be missed,” Melanie said. “No offense to you, Judge Merritt. Now, that guest of yours is about to arrive, so I’d better get out to my desk to greet him properly.”

  Cynthia wondered if she would be missed when she left. And realized she would certainly miss Melanie.

  Fifteen minutes later, Melanie stuck her head around the door. “Your guests are here, Judge Merritt.”

  “Bring the justice in please, Melanie.” Hang on a minute…did she say guests, plural?

  Had Justice Pearson brought another member of the selection committee along? Cynthia stood and straightened her jacket as Hal Pearson entered, followed by—

  “Dad!” It came out a yelp, drawing a frown from Jonah as he entered her chambers. She hurried around the desk.

  “Hello, Cynthia.” He kissed her cheek, then patted her shoulder. “I thought I’d surprise you with a visit, my dear. I called Hal last night and asked if he had room in his car for me.”

  Assuming the justice drove some enormous Mercedes or similar, like most of his colleagues, space would never have been a problem. Cynthia shook hands with the justice, welcomed him warmly but professionally to her town.

  My courthouse. Not my town.

  And not her courthouse for much longer, if all went according to plan. With Judge Piet deceased, the town could appoint a permanent replacement. The timing couldn’t be better for her to move on.

  “So, Cynthia.” Justice Pearson settled into the armchair she’d had Melanie bring in from the archive room. “Tell me how you’ve fared here in Stonewall Hollow?”

  Cynthia glanced at her father. Surely he should leave? She was dismayed to find that her pleasure in seeing him had been diluted. He couldn’t just love her and let her get on with the job in her own way?

  “Don’t worry about Jonah sitting in,” the justice said. “This is very much an informal discussion. In fact, Jonah’s presence makes it clear this isn’t an interview. Since the selection process isn’t formally underway, that’s ideal.”

  “Great,” she lied.

  “Tell me everything,” the justice said, “warts and all.”

  As if she was about to tell him she’d been public enemy number one for half her time here. Or that she’d taken on the most dangerous job in town and survived by the skin of her teeth. Or that she’d fallen in love with a taciturn rancher, the father of a local criminal.

  “It’s been an adjustment, getting into the small-town way of doing things.” She explained about the personal stake everyone seemed to have in verdicts and sentencing.

  “It may be an adjustment, but it seems to me you nailed it,” her father said. “Hal and I hung around in the lobby downstairs for a few minutes, observing. A couple of people made comments about you.”

  Her stomach constricted, but she said calmly, “Oh, yes?”

  “Positive comments,” Hal clarified. “You command respect.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find people who don’t agree,” she said fairly. Her dad looked worried, but Hal nodded approval.

  “If everyone loved you, you wouldn’t be doing your job,” he said. “There’s always someone with a grudge against the judge.” He smirked at his own rhyme. “Can you walk me through a couple of the cases you’ve heard that have presented a particular challenge,” he suggested, “and explain how you handled them?”

  So much for his assertion this wasn’t an interview. These were exactly the kinds of questions she’d expect if—when—she met the selection committee. Of course, if she didn’t get the right answers now, she would never get as far as the committee.

  “Hmm.” She pretended to think, though they all knew she had some examples prepared. “Let me tell you about a contempt of court jailing.”

  She elaborated on the Paul Dayton story. Then, as she segued into another case, the door of her chambers burst open.

  It was Ethan, unshaven, dark hair morning-shaggy, wearing jeans and a T-shirt that looked as if he’d slept in them. She was certain they were the ones he’d worn last night.

  He didn’t look as mad as he had last night, but there was a set determination in his face that boded ill.

  “CINDY, I NEED TO—” Ethan stopped and took stock of his surroundings. She had visitors, two men he’d never seen before, wearing suits that didn’t look as if they’d been bought here in Stonewall Hollow.

  He removed his hat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Her expression was frozen; her gray eyes, usually clear to him, were unreadable. The guests stared at him as if he’d broken out of jail. Okay, he should have changed, and he shouldn’t have barged in, but he’d been preoccupied with the need to tell Cindy he’d been an idiot last night. And, of course, preoccupied with Sam.

  She was watching him, eyebrows lifted in the same way they had been the first day they’d met. Affection, no, something much stronger, rushed through him. “What do you plan to do with Sam’s case today?”

  Uh-oh. Totally the wrong thing to say. The jaw of one of her guests dropped; the other man appeared to want to see Ethan burn in hell. Who were they? Cindy drew herself up like a mare about to kick with lethal precision.

  “Mr. Granger,” she said, her voice arctic, “I have told you before, I will not entertain interference in my sentencing. If you wish to make a submission in court, talk to your son’s lawyer.”

  Even that first day they’d met she hadn’t been this cold. He remembered how he’d found her in the broom closet, how defensive she’d been. She was ten times more defensive now. He wanted to haul her into his arms and tell her it would be okay and he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologized. “But I was thinking about what you said last night—” one of her guests was turning purple “—and maybe I need to make some changes.”

  Just like that, the atmosphere shifted. The hostility thawed in Cindy and she relaxed.

  “You have guests,” he said belatedly, �
�so I won’t go into it now. I’ll call you later.”

  He rammed his hat back on his head.

  “Ethan,” she said.

  His own name had never been so welcome. He spun back to her.

  “I’d like—” she drew a breath “—to introduce you to my father, Jonah Merritt.” The guy with the purple face.

  Hell. Jonah Merritt stood. He was tall—not as tall as Ethan but his solid build conveyed power. No sign of the ill health Cindy said he’d suffered. Jonah shook Ethan’s hand warily.

  “And this is Justice Hal Pearson from Atlanta,” Cindy said.

  For the first time, Ethan took a proper look at the other man. His insides froze. He thanked God for the years of self-discipline, of hiding his emotions. He shook the justice’s hand calmly. And quickly turned back to Jonah.

  “Welcome to Stonewall Hollow, sir,” he said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Cindy winced. “Ethan runs a program for young offenders on his ranch. He’s achieved quite remarkable reductions in recidivism.” Her father didn’t look impressed. “He has a degree in criminal justice,” she added.

  Don’t tell him that, it’ll all start adding up. Ethan closed his eyes. Could this get any worse?

  “Where did you go to school?” Jonah asked.

  “I got my degree from Ohio University.” Instinct warned him to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth right now. But how could he tell Cindy what he should have told her weeks ago in front of her dad and a guy who likely had something to do with that promotion she wanted?

  He kept his face averted from Justice Pearson. Jonah said, “Cynthia, this man’s interruption is the sort of thing you meant by people overstepping the boundaries.” He jerked his head at Ethan.

  She’d complained about him to her dad? Not about him, he realized, about the whole town in those early days.

  “It’s a matter of understanding the local psyche and respecting that not everyone does things the city way,” she said. “As long as the law continues to frame the process and the outcome.” She carried on talking jargon Ethan could have understood if he’d bothered to try. He was too busy understanding Cindy’s relationship with her dad. She was obviously out to please him at any cost. Last night she’d said she knew how it felt to worry that her father didn’t love her, that his feelings were tied up in how good she was at her job, not in that she was his daughter.