“Better late than never,” Nonna, always the practical one, said.
Sara studied the perfectly wrapped package meant for her thirteen-year-old self. She was never one to carefully unwrap a present, but this one made her hesitate.
“Hurry up, I can’t stand it!” Gabby said.
Sara smiled a little. If Evie were here, she’d make Sara wait until the whole family was present, but there was no way she was doing that. She put her finger under a seam to start tearing the paper but stopped herself. Like a piece in a museum, this package seemed almost as if it shouldn’t be touched. And certainly shouldn’t be ruined.
She carefully pulled up the tape without tearing the paper. Almost immediately she could tell it was a book.
Her vision blurred. Then, without thinking, she ripped into the rest of the paper. Her mother wouldn’t have wanted her to treat it like a museum piece.
It was a copy of Pride and Prejudice. A collector’s copy, the kind with gilt edges. A special edition that had the original text on one side of every page and footnotes explaining all kinds of things on the other.
Her mom had known how much that book meant to her. She’d bought her a copy that would allow her to fully learn every last detail. The perfect gift.
“Open it,” Gabby said.
Sara stilled with her hand on the cover. She knew what she’d find when she opened it. Every book their mother had given them had been inscribed by her at the front.
“My sweet girl,” the inscription read. “Welcome to your teenage years! A wonderful, scary time. Just a warning, there will probably be a Wickham or two to deal with before Darcy comes along. My wish for you is to know the difference. Love always, Mom.”
Oh, Mom. A landslide of tears hit her, not just for the beautiful gift but also because her mother’s message seemed so spot-on in an eerie way. She wanted to cry out to her mother that she did know the difference! It had taken her over ten years, but by God, she knew. Too bad that when she’d finally figured it out, her Darcy had flown the coop.
“Colton’s your Darcy,” Gabby said.
“You’re such a romantic,” Sara said, rolling her eyes.
“He’s liked you for a long time, Sara,” Nonna said.
“You’re thinking of Tagg, Nonna,” Gabby said gently. “We’re talking about Colton.”
“I love Colton,” Nonna said with a sigh. “Such a nice man.”
Sara felt tears coming on again. He was a nice man. He took care of Nonna and his own grandmother and everyone in town. He’d stood up for her to her dad and shown up at her family dinner and handled all the craziness really well. She thought of how he’d taken off her glasses so carefully, setting them on the nightstand, and kissing her. Yeah, he’d loved her for who she was, all right. Or at least she’d thought it was love.
And she loved him in a way she’d never loved Tagg. Tagg had given her validation that being smart was OK. He’d been a shield of sorts for her to hide behind during those years when she wasn’t confident enough in herself. But he wasn’t the one. Not the right one.
No, the right one was a man who at the beginning couldn’t have been more wrong. She’d gone from hating him to loving him. What a fine line that was, between love and hate.
“Are you all right?” Gabby asked, because sure enough, Sara’s eyes were leaking again.
“Gabby,” Sara said, wiping her eyes and leaning forward so Gabby would know what she was about to say was important. Her words came out shaky. “Don’t marry a man who doesn’t treat you like you’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to him. Because if I learned one thing from all of this, it was that Tagg could always take me or leave me. But with Colton, I thought…Well. I clearly don’t have it all figured out, but…”
“I get it,” Gabby said, putting her hands up. “I get what you’re saying.”
“Don’t ever marry a man who doesn’t look at you like you’re chocolate ice cream,” Nonna said out of nowhere.
“Chocolate ice cream,” Sara said, smiling through her tears.
“Perfect,” Gabby said, laughing.
“I wish I had some of that,” Nonna said.
Gabby rose from the floor and stepped around all the piles of paper. “I’m going to run and get us some.”
“Get the half-gallon size,” Sara called after her.
“Hurry back so we can watch more of the Friends,” Nonna said.
Sara leaned back against the couch and linked her arm with Nonna’s. Maybe Nonna didn’t always get the facts right, but she was still very, very wise.
* * *
“Hey, babycakes.” Carmen’s voice blasting through the police radio on Colton’s desk startled him awake. “I’m coming in there.”
Colton bolted upright. His neck had a crick, his back ached, and his left leg was asleep. Champ’s tags jingled as he shook himself awake too. The smell of police station coffee, strong and a little burnt, reached him through the door. He rubbed his neck and tried to pretend he hadn’t spent the entire night at his desk.
Carmen walked in, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other. She was wearing a bright-orange sleeveless blouse, print pants with yellow pineapples on them, and hot pink pumps. It was hard not to be wide awake after looking at her.
“Carmen, what are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be dispatching from the sheriff’s office today.”
“First, Maggie Nelson brought these in to say thank you for rescuing Dolly the other day.” She waved them under his nose. “They’re delicious, by the way. Second, I went out of my way to tell you to your sweet baby face personally that you’re making a big mistake with Sara and to get your head out of your ass.”
“How do you know anything about my personal life?”
“Tagg’s mother told everyone what happened at the Angel Statue Preservation Society meeting this morning. Apparently she’s rooting for her son to get back together with Sara.”
He sighed. “Thank you, Carmen. You can go to work now.”
“Did you sleep in those clothes? You look terrible.”
He sent her a glare. The best he could do right now. Maybe if he didn’t talk much she’d go the hell away.
Wishful thinking, because she parked her butt in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “I watched you grow from a cocky kid who was angry at everybody to a kind, gentle guy who watches out for every single citizen in this town. You hold your head high, Chief.” Her voice cracked a little. She shook her finger at him emphatically, her bright-fuchsia polish sparkling. “Don’t you let someone move in on your life who doesn’t have half the integrity you do. Even if he does have double the degrees.”
“And a better car,” Evan said from the other room.
Colton scrubbed a hand over his head. “When did everybody get to be Dear Abby around here?” Still, he felt a warm little tightening in his chest.
Evan appeared in the doorway. “Hey, someone’s here to see you, Chief.” He lowered his voice. “It’s that kid you gave the painting job to.”
Carmen leaned over, grabbed Colton’s chin, and shook it. “Think about what I said. Sara’s too good to let her get away.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he said as she headed out the door. He was only half kidding. “Hey, Carmen,” he called after her.
“Yes?” she asked, turning around.
“Seriously, thanks. I…appreciate your concern.”
She grinned. “No problem, boss.” She blew him a kiss as she left and patted Aiden on the shoulder as she passed him in the doorway.
Colton managed to grab a slug of his coffee before he told the kid to take a seat.
“So, Aiden,” he said, leaning back in his seat and tenting his fingers. Where to begin? The paint job looks terrific. Now get the hell away from my sister.
Aiden had taken a ball cap off his head and was holding it to his chest. He looked contrite and humble—and nervous. But Colton didn’t fall for that kind of thing easily.
As soon
as the kid plopped into a chair, Colton said, “Look, Aiden, I’m glad you’re here. Let’s get a few things straight.” He was going to get the upper hand on this. Attack the problem head-on. Make it clear where he stood in terms of Hannah. Which was, he didn’t really want him near her but it was clear he wasn’t going to be able to stop them. But he could scare the shit out of Aiden. That might help. It would at least make him feel better.
Colton felt a sudden burning in his chest. Heartburn. He choked it down with a slug of coffee, probably not the best remedy.
“Before you start, I want to tell you I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me, Chief,” the kid said. “And I came to show you this.”
Colton wondered if the kid was being a kiss-ass. Aiden was smart enough to know when he was in trouble and clever enough to wheedle his way out of it. Colton might have tried the same back in the day. One look in Aiden’s eyes as he handed over a long envelope showed Colton otherwise. The kid looked eager. Proud. He was also shifting nervously in the chair. What in the world?
Colton pulled out an official-looking piece of paper. He took a minute to skim it. It was a letter of acceptance to the electrician program at the local technical college.
Well, I’ll be. The kid had followed through. Applied and gotten in. And looked damn proud of it.
“I start in the fall,” Aiden said. Despite his tough appearance, he was practically beaming.
Colton sat forward. The kid was grinning broadly. Colton couldn’t help breaking into a grin too.
“Congratulations,” Colton said. “Wow. I mean, this is great.”
“I owe it all to you, Chief.”
“You got the grades, Aiden. You got yourself in.”
“When I interviewed, the guy told me you’d personally put in a good word for me. I’ll never forget how you helped me.”
Aw, geez. This was killing him. The kid really meant it.
He stood up. “Look, Hannah told me you were upset about us. I didn’t tell you about me and Hannah because I knew you wouldn’t approve. I want you to know I’d never hurt her or mistreat her. I-I love her, sir. Hannah’s…amazing.”
There went his heartburn again. But somehow, the pain wasn’t so bad. He couldn’t not like this kid, who reminded him so much of himself. Who had so much potential. Who’d been dealt a shitty hand but was trying to overcome that. All he needed was a little bit of help.
“I’ll always be grateful for what you did for me. I’m going to do good, you’ll see.”
Colton put down the letter. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to find the right words.
“I expect you to keep working until your community service hours are done,” Colton said. “That will take the rest of the summer.”
“Will do.”
“And I expect you to turn in all your grades to me from school—as part of your court supervision, of course. No slacking, right?”
“Absolutely.” The kid was grinning widely now.
“And if you ever hurt my sister I will personally kick your ass, understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
He knit his brows down low. “And if you ever encourage her to get a tattoo I will come find you, is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
He escorted the kid out, wrapping his arm around him and squeezing his shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son,” he said. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the first time he’d ever called anyone son. It reminded him oddly of Chief McGregor, who had seemed ancient when Colton was a teenager but who probably hadn’t been much older than he was at the time.
The kid flushed and shook his head, a little embarrassed. Colton slapped his back and sent him on his way.
As he walked back to his desk, his eye caught the framed picture of Chief McGregor with his three buddies that hung on the wall. The buddy in the middle was his dad, whose smiling face looked up at him through time.
Colton wasn’t his dad. He had to live his own life his own way. But he liked to think his dad would be proud that he’d become an officer and was serving their hometown.
Colton hadn’t exactly chosen this job, but it suited him. Every once in a while, he was able to do some good. Besides, he loved it. Especially on days like this when something actually went right.
So maybe he wasn’t saving lives, not the way Sara and Tagg did, anyway, but he’d built himself a place here, a life. Made a few people smile. Listened to their complaints. Tried to alleviate their worries and make their town safe. Saved their dogs when they were roaming loose. Not such a bad job after all.
He’d messed up with Sara. And he hadn’t spoken honestly with her. He’d let things get in the way, like Tagg and the feeling he’d harbored that he was somehow not as good as Tagg. He’d been afraid of her slipping out of his fingers, thinking she wouldn’t want to stay here in this town, but had he actually asked her what she wanted?
Maybe it was time to let her know how he felt. And maybe he really was right where he belonged.
Chapter 22
The next day in the office, Sara noticed her charts from the day before were missing, so she walked into her dad’s office, where he was sitting behind his desk reading a medical journal on his iPad.
“How’s it going, Dad?” she asked. His desk was gorgeous glass-covered cherry, his office complete with all his diplomas hanging in neat rows on the wall beside his desk. She’d always loved coming in here as a child, if only to sit in the big leather swivel chair or experiment on tapping Gabby’s knees with her dad’s reflex hammer.
The old Sara would never have made waves, just quietly suffered in silence. Not that things had been bad in the office. She felt there was real potential for her there. But first she had to get her father to look on her as a partner. And if she kept saying nothing, nothing was going to change.
She took a seat in one of the upholstered chairs across from his desk, where over the years he’d given a myriad of patients news about their health, both good and bad. “Dad,” she began, “what do you think of me coming to work here with you? I want the truth.”
He looked up from his iPad. “I think you’re going to be a successful physician no matter what you do.”
“That’s a canned answer. What do you really think of me being here? I mean personally?”
What had gotten into her? Well, a breakup would do that to someone, but she couldn’t really blame her boldness on that. She’d told off Tagg, and that had felt really good. And she’d told Colton that she cared about him, and even if that didn’t work out, she wasn’t going to crack. So she was on a self-assertiveness roll. She waited with her arms crossed.
“You want the truth?” her dad said, folding his arms and setting his jaw in a stubborn way that reminded her of…herself. “I hate to tell you my personal feelings because I don’t want it to cloud your judgment.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t want you to stay because we love having you here. I want you to stay because it’s the best opportunity for you.”
“I really like seeing families. Talking to them about their concerns, educating them about health issues. I’m not going to apply for the fellowship again, Dad.” She suddenly spotted a familiar pile of manila folders on the corner of his desk. “And Dad, for God’s sakes, quit checking my charts every day!”
“First of all, I thought you wanted to go back to your fellowship. And secondly, I’m studying your charts. Not for errors. Well, maybe a little bit. Maybe. With the more complicated patients, but I must say, you have excellent clinical judgment. But I’m learning the new medicines you prescribe. I’m keeping up to date.”
“You don’t need to read my charts to learn that. I can teach you. More importantly, I thought you hated me doing family medicine. I thought you wanted me far away, on the East Coast somewhere.”
“I would never hold you back from what you want. If opportunity takes you far away from home, I want you to feel free to take it.”
“But sometimes it’s ha
rd to figure out what exactly you’re thinking, you know? You just don’t…say much. And you’re all about academia. Reaching for the stars. Going as high as you can go. I’ve always wanted to please you, Dad, but I can’t help thinking that I always fall a little short.”
At that he took off his glasses and set them down on a pile of magazines. “Well, I’ll say one thing. Your assessment of me is just wrong.”
“Maybe it’s because you rarely say anything. Not that I’m begging for praise, but a nice word or two goes a long way, you know?”
“Sweetheart, I couldn’t be more proud of you. I’ve always encouraged all of you kids to reach for the stars—what kind of parent would I be if I didn’t?”
“Yeah, but Dad, sometimes you’re just pushy.”
He raised a brow. “Well, it appears that you’ve learned to push back, now haven’t you?”
She smiled at that. “All right then, while I’m on a roll, I’d like you to treat me like a partner. That means letting me see some of your more complicated patients—you know I’d talk over their treatment plans with you. I just don’t want to be treated like a med student.”
That was good, but she had one more thing to say. She took a deep breath and plunged in. “But mostly, Dad, I want you to treat me like your daughter. I want you to tell me you love me and are proud of me, because you are, aren’t you? Sometimes I just feel like you can’t express it or something. Or else you’re deeply disappointed.”
He looked at Sara and smiled in a sweet, nostalgic way that caught her off guard. “I delivered you, you know. Your eyes were green. Most newborns have blue, of course. You were wide awake with these big, round eyes, putting your tiny fist in your mouth, and I just…Well, I just fell. As purely and simply as I fell for your mother standing by the punch bowl at the senior prom. Anyway, I examined you and made sure you had all your parts, and there you were, my beautiful daughter.”
Oh, that did it. Sara started to cry. Her dad got up from his chair and met her on the other side of the desk, wrapping his arms around her.
“Oh, Dad,” she said, hugging him tightly and inhaling the spicy old-fashioned aftershave he’d worn for years.
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