Irked but grateful for the help, she angled the box into his hands. Balancing it on his shoulder, he went down the ladder and set it on the floor. Working in tandem—MJ moved boxes to the opening and he carried them down—they retrieved eight bulging, dusty cartons. Satisfied with the progress, she called through the opening. “Thanks. That’ll get me started.”
She navigated the ladder a rung at a time, annoyingly aware of her backside on display. When she reached the carpeted floor, she saw Shane and Cody playing “Rock, Paper, Scissors.”
Cody turned to her with a mile-wide grin. “We’re seeing who gets to put up the ladder.”
On the next round of the game, Shane chose paper and Cody beat him with scissors. Shane groaned as if the contest really mattered. “Scissors cut paper. You win.”
“Yes!” Cody pumped his fist, then traded a high-five with Shane.
MJ’s heart nearly burst from her chest. Cody didn’t just need male attention. He craved it. It was a boy’s destiny to become a man, and Cody had no one to guide him. No father. No grandfather. No uncles or cousins, or even a family friend here in Refuge.
Shane indicated the ladder to Cody. “Want some help?”
“Okay.”
“Here’s what we do . . .”
A lump pushed into her throat. She had to get away from two blond heads huddled together, two sets of blue eyes focused on the ladder, so she carried a box into the spare bedroom and opened it. Her gaze landed on a drawstring bag, the watered silk faded and dry with age. Enthralled, she opened it and spread an assortment of keepsakes on the bed—a Chinese fan, an ornate but tarnished mirror, three tortoise-shell combs, and a whiskey flask with the initials AC.
In the bottom of the sack she found a newspaper clipping about the capture of an outlaw named Adam Carter. Presumably he had owned the flask. The women’s items were more of a mystery. Had they belonged to a woman in MJ’s family tree? It seemed possible, even likely, and the connection made them even more intriguing.
MJ set the treasures on the bed, looked back in the storage carton, and took out a black enamel box sporting a cloisonné rose and a tiny brass latch. She opened it, smelled dust, and discovered a stack of letters with no envelopes. The date on the first one read September 1, 1894. Curious, she skimmed it.
My Dear Little Miss,
I thank our Lord for your safe arrival in Cheyenne, and I pray daily for His blessing on your work at the Broderick School for Young Ladies. Teaching is a noble profession, my daughter. Though I worry you will be exposed to dangerous and immoral elements, I am confident in your good Christian judgment. I am equally confident in the protection and provision of our Lord, though it grieved my heart to bid you farewell.
Your mother sends her warmest greetings, of course. So do your brothers and sisters. Thomas, too, sends his regards. He asked my permission to correspond with you. I gave my blessing and pray you will see him for the fine young man he is. A spring wedding would not disappoint me.
With great affection,
Your Father
MJ set the letter on top of the stack, then riffled through the others—about twenty in all. She wanted to read more about Little Miss, Thomas, and Adam Carter, but she had work to do. As she set the letters aside, Shane arrived with a box in his arms and Cody trailing behind him.
He indicated the carton with his chin. “Where do you want it?”
“Anywhere on the floor.”
Cody pointed at the antiques on the bed. “What’s all that?”
“Our family history.” MJ nudged one of the hair combs. “These things might have belonged to your great-great-great-grandmother. Maybe even another great.”
Cody’s brows shot up. “That’s a lot of greats.”
“It sure is.” Shane stood behind him, hands in his pockets. “I didn’t even know my grandparents.”
Had his family short-circuited like hers, with divorce and distance? MJ was a toddler when her parents split up. Her father had called and visited occasionally, but they hadn’t been close. When he died eight years ago, she had grieved not really knowing him more than she had grieved his death.
Feeling abandoned wasn’t any fun at all, especially when no one else filled the gap. With her mother being an only child, MJ had no aunts or uncles, no cousins. It troubled her to think Cody would grow up the same way, like an isolated vine climbing on whatever trellis it could find. Right now that trellis was Shane.
The two of them were playing another round of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Shane made a fist for a rock and Cody made scissors.
“Ha!” Shane clapped Cody on the back. “I won. That means you give me five minutes to talk to your mom.”
“About what?”
“Grownup stuff,” he answered. “I’ll say good-bye before I leave.”
“Okay.” Cody left without so much as a grumble.
When he was out of earshot, MJ turned to Shane. “Thanks for not mentioning the park in front of him.”
“That’s Rule Number 1 for dating a woman with kids—Mom’s in charge.”
“Do you date a lot of women with kids?” As soon as she asked the question, she regretted it. Even worse, she sounded flirty.
“Not a one, but my mom was single. I know the drill from Cody’s perspective. He doesn’t need false hope.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“So, what do you say?” He leaned casually against the doorjamb, one hip cocked and his knee bent. “We can pick up coffee somewhere, then go to the park. You can be Cody’s biggest fan.”
How did he do that? He made her want to say yes without the slightest bit of pressure. There was something trustworthy about Shane Riley, something steady and calming. Instead of telling him no, MJ gnawed her bottom lip.
He watched her for a moment, giving her time to reply. When she remained silent, he filled the gap. “Yesterday I saw a place called the Campfire Café. Is it any good?”
“The best in town.” The cinnamon chip muffins were her favorite. “And it’s near the park.”
“Well, good. It sounds perfect.” He smiled at her, then pushed off the doorjamb and stood straight. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Somehow she’d said yes to Shane’s invitation without meaning to, but the decision felt more right than wrong. He left to wait with Cody, and MJ retreated to her bedroom. She changed into clean jeans and a red top, then dabbed on lipstick. She was doing it for herself, not Shane. At least that’s what she told herself as she checked her teeth for smears. Satisfied, she went downstairs and met Cody and Shane in the kitchen. The boy had his baseball glove in hand.
Shane opened the back door. “All set?”
She snagged her purse off a chair, checked her phone, and scooped up her keychain. “I’m ready.”
He held the door for her, stepping aside so she could lock it. When he headed toward his Chevy Tahoe, she explained that Cody needed to be in his booster seat. Shane fetched his equipment bag from his SUV, then detoured to the Bonneville and opened the driver’s door for her, making a show of it to teach Cody manners. The boy ate up the attention, and MJ had to admit she enjoyed it, too.
The ride to the café was full of baseball talk. MJ mostly listened until the three of them walked into the Campfire Café and approached the counter. A display case showed off donuts, pastries, and muffins.
Cody tugged on MJ’s hand. “Mom, I’m starving.”
Shane slipped her a look, silently asking permission to indulge the boy. When she nodded, he told Cody to get whatever he wanted. After pondering the goodies in the display case, Cody asked for hot chocolate and a donut with rainbow sprinkles.
Shane opted for black coffee.
MJ ordered a vanilla latte and a cinnamon chip muffin, plus a children’s breakfast sandwich for Cody.
Beverages in hand, they headed to a table in the back of the dining area to wait for the food. As Cody slid into place, the front door chimed. MJ saw her mother and wanted to hide under the table. If she’d been alone, the c
hance meeting would have been fine. But MJ knew how her mother thought.
What are you doing with Shane Riley? And why are you having breakfast together?
Judging by her appearance, Olivia Townsend hadn’t changed a bit. Her suit was one MJ recognized from several years ago—classic lines, navy blue, white piping, no frills. Her shoes were polished, and her short hair was lacquered into the same football-helmet style she’d worn for years, dyed dark brown to hide the gray.
Praying her mother wouldn’t see her, MJ slid into the booth next to Cody and hunkered down. Shane sat facing the door. Her mother would recognize him from his job interview, but it was unlikely she’d do more than acknowledge him with a nod.
Leaning forward, Shane spoke in a murmur. “We saw the same person, didn’t we?”
“Yes.” MJ gave silent thanks Cody was focused on his whipped cream. “I know this is awkward. It’s just that I haven’t seen her in a while.”
They sat in silence with Shane glancing at her mom between sips of coffee and MJ fidgeting until her curiosity got the better of her. “What’s she doing now?”
“She just paid for the coffee.”
“Is she leaving?”
“Not yet. She went to a table and set her stuff down. Now she’s taking out her phone.”
“Oh, no,” MJ murmured.
Three seconds later, circus music blasted out of her purse. Instead of answering her phone, she kissed the top of Cody’s head. “Wait here,” she said to him. With an apologetic glance at Shane, she went to speak with her mother.
Olivia Townsend would never understand why people chose annoying ringtones. It was bad enough cell phones rang in public places. To be subjected to silliness struck her as unnecessary. Her own phone played a distinct but unobtrusive two-beat chime. With her brow furrowed, she turned to glare at the owner of the obnoxious phone. Instead of a stranger, she saw her own daughter.
“Melissa!” Gaping, Olivia took in the half smile that had always tugged at her heart, the questions in her daughter’s eyes, and the doubt that kept them from sharing the kind of hug Olivia longed to give.
Melissa indicated the phone dangling in Olivia’s hand. “You must have gotten my—”
“Voicemail.”
When Melissa sighed in irritation, Olivia regretted interrupting. The bad habit came from being in charge and hearing the same complaints over and over. Today she saw her own impatience in her daughter’s expression. She didn’t mean to exasperate Melissa, but somehow it always happened.
“I was out of town,” Olivia explained. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have been—”
“Ready?” Melissa finished for her, a small revenge.
“I was going to say prepared.”
“We need to talk.”
Olivia didn’t let it show, but she felt a wave of motherly panic. “Are you all right? Is it Cody?”
“We’re fine.” Melissa fluttered her hand. “I was hoping—”
“Is he with you?”
“Yes.”
Olivia spotted her grandson in a booth with Shane Riley, yet another surprise. Her daughter, it seemed, had a man in her life. Had they met in Los Angeles? Probably not. More likely, they had somehow just met in Refuge, which made the cozy breakfast even more disturbing.
Melissa’s voice filtered back into her thoughts. “Would you like to say hello to Cody?”
Oh my, yes. But Olivia wasn’t prepared. She wanted to have a toy for him, and she wanted to be in Grammie clothes, not a business suit. She also wanted to know Melissa’s plans before she greeted her grandson. Was this a visit or a permanent move?
With no idea how to react, Olivia gave her daughter a stern look. “You know how I feel about surprises.”
“I know, Mom. I didn’t plan to meet like this.”
“Obviously not.”
“Could we talk tonight?”
Olivia frowned. “I can’t. I have a meeting, and now I’m worried.”
“I’m okay and so is Cody.” Melissa’s eyes dulled and she sighed. “I’m here because the SassyGirl chain went bankrupt. They laid everyone off—including me. I have to sell Grandpa Jake’s house.”
“Oh, Melissa—”
“I know.” She held her hands palm out, a helpless gesture that pushed Olivia away. “I don’t want to, Mom. But it’s necessary.”
Olivia hated the idea. The house was her daughter’s only financial asset. If she sold it now, she’d squander the money on living expenses. “You can’t just sell it. It’s not smart.”
“I have to.”
No doubt a knee-jerk reaction. “There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t.” Melissa clipped the words. “I know school starts in a few days and things are crazy for you. When can we talk?”
Olivia had school meetings every night this week. She hated to put off seeing Cody, but she didn’t want to be rushed or exhausted when they met. “Come to the condo on Saturday.” She had bought it new when Melissa was in middle school. They had both been thrilled, and for a while it was a happy home.
But now Melissa’s mouth tensed, a sign she didn’t like the idea. Olivia prepared for a quarrel, but the girl acquiesced with a nod. “That would be nice. What time?”
“How about noon? We’ll have lunch.”
“That sounds good.”
Olivia’s gaze went to her grandson. She had a dozen pictures of him in her office, but she wanted to hug the real boy. She considered going to the booth, but Cody was talking a mile a minute to Shane Riley. An uncomfortable awareness made her turn back to her daughter. “It’ll be just you and Cody, won’t it?”
“Of course.”
“I see Mr. Riley.” She called all the teachers Mr. or Ms. until they earned her respect.
Melissa’s cheeks flushed. “It’s not what you think.”
“It’s not?”
“No.” The girl all but rolled her eyes.
Olivia clenched her jaw. She dealt with young people every day, and she was good at it. She offered stability and strength in a world lacking clear rules. Parents, teachers, and students respected her. Everyone respected her—except her own daughter, and she didn’t understand what she had done wrong.
Melissa gave in with a sigh. “Shane’s renting the apartment over the garage. I’ll tell you more on Saturday.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” Why did she sound so formal? She wanted to be relaxed with her daughter, not the enemy.
A good-bye called for a hug. Olivia reached out and Melissa hugged her back, but they moved like stick figures, all arms and elbows and rigid backs. When they broke apart, Olivia picked up her purse and coffee and headed for the door.
Through the window, she saw Melissa return to the booth. The smoky glass masked the details of her expression, but she said something to Shane, then shook her head in that eye-rolling way Olivia knew all too well. Once again, she’d been cast as the villain. But why? What had she done wrong? Olivia loved her daughter more than life itself. If only she could make Melissa understand. Determined to find a way, she left for school, the one place where people did exactly what she asked.
Chapter 8
MJ slid into the booth next to Cody and hugged him just because she could. If her mother had hugged her tight, MJ would have squeezed back. Instead they did the awkward dance they always did, the one where they didn’t quite touch.
Oblivious, Cody grinned at her with a whipped cream mustache, daring her to notice his silly face.
“You look like an old man,” she teased.
She hadn’t forgotten Shane, and she turned to him now. “Thanks for watching him.”
“My pleasure.” He lowered his voice so Cody wouldn’t notice. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine.”
“It looked like you surprised her.”
“I did, but not on purpose.”
She didn’t want to talk about her mother, so she took a swallow of her latte. Milk and foam went down the wrong way an
d she choked. She set down the paper cup, tipping it when she couldn’t stop coughing.
Shane grabbed it fast, stopping a spill while she pressed a napkin to her lips and worked to clear her throat.
Cody pushed to his knees. “Mommy! Are you all right?”
She nodded, but fresh hacking knocked her back against the seat.
“Mommy!” He cried again, now on his knees with his bottom lip trembling. He worried about her more than normal, maybe because she was the only parent he had. She needed to reassure him, but she couldn’t speak.
She looked at Shane, hoping he’d explain to Cody, but he was studying her with an expression that matched her son’s. “Are you okay?”
Nodding emphatically, she took a breath, but the hacking struck again.
“Hey, Cody,” Shane said. “As long as your mom’s coughing, she can breathe. She’s all right. She just swallowed funny.”
Brow furrowed, Cody stared hard at Shane. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
MJ tried to talk but couldn’t do more than croak a few syllables.
Shane slid out of the booth. “You need water. Cody, pat your mom on the back, okay? That’ll help her.”
As Shane passed by, he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, a gesture that made her heart flutter like a butterfly in a breeze. She was usually—always—the caretaker. Being on the receiving end flooded her with both sweet relief and a tender longing to roll off her burdens, at least for the moment.
Shane returned with the water and set it in front of her. “They’re packing our breakfast to go. Let’s eat in the park.”
She smiled her thanks, both for the water and the decision to leave. Other customers were waiting for their orders, and she felt like a spectacle. After another sip of water, she cleared her throat and felt a little better. “Thank you both.”
Cody giggled. “You sound like a frog.”
“Or Darth Vader,” Shane added.
MJ laughed and fought tears at the same time. This was what a father shared with a son—and what Cody so desperately needed. Her ears rang with her mother’s old criticism. Your child will need things, Melissa. How will you provide? Things, she discovered, were the least of her worries. Cody needed stability, someone to teach him how to throw a ball, and when to pat a woman on the back when she swallowed wrong.
When He Found Me (Road to Refuge Book 1) Page 7