Lawful Heart

by Amity Lassiter

  “Right, well, let’s not let that happen again, shall we? I have coffee on, come in.”

  Norah followed her aunt the rest of the way into the apartment, sitting in one of the two chairs at a small dining table just inside the kitchen, while Gloria went to the coffee machine.

  “Cream? Sugar?”

  “All of the above,” Norah said with a laugh, watching her great aunt move around the small kitchen. She put the cream on the table straight in the carton—typical Gloria, there was no pomp and circumstance, she was surprised the sugar didn’t come to the table right in the bag it came in, but in a round glass dish with a plastic cover. Next, Gloria made her way to the table with two large mugs. Mindful of the advice in her pregnancy book, Norah vowed to drink only half, and dosed it up with a good helping of sugar and cream.

  “So tell me something new. What have you been up to since I saw you last?”

  Norah had been so busy with finding her bearings and the new job, and the distraction that was Banks Montgomery that she hadn’t been back to visit Gloria since that first visit, though she’d found time for a phone call here and there.

  “Just work, really.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “There’s a lot to do. The office was…pretty disorganized when I got there, but we’re working on it.” Norah smiled as she lifted her mug to her lips, thinking of Banks’ initial resistance to her new methods of organization, and then the way he’d just given in and bowed down to her superior administrative skills.

  “And how about that Banks?”

  Norah raised a brow.

  “What about him?”

  “What’s it like working for that handsome sheriff?”

  Norah narrowed her eyes at her great aunt, but an involuntary blush still crept up her neck. Damnit these perceptive older women that Three Rivers produced.

  “He’s a good boss. Kind, fair, generous…” Reel it in, Norah. “I like the job and my coworkers.”

  “What exactly is it you’re doing?” Gloria asked, with interest.

  Norah needed to tread carefully. Nan had this same sort of way of sussing out things by asking indirect questions that gave her the answers she wanted. Her familiarity with Banks didn’t need to be a secret, but it didn’t need to be front page news, either. But realistically, this was her auntie. Someone who could be on her team, and lord knew she needed some of those.

  “Just organizing things, finding ways to make the office run smoother.”

  “I think Nan said you were the office manager.”

  Gone were the days they called jobs like that a receptionist, she guessed. At the end of the day, eventually she supposed, manager would be what she was. She’d never even had a job managing a fast food restaurant, so it was new territory for her, but it gave her a sense of pride.

  “I guess you could call it that, but I think Nan, and Banks for that matter, give me more credit than the job is worth.”

  Gloria’s eyes snapped with fire. She tipped her chin down sharply and fixed Norah in a gaze she could remember from childhood. As she had gotten older, she realized it was the ‘what the hell did you just say’ look.

  “Never discredit yourself. Your work there is valuable. The people in this town are kind, but they sure aren’t going to blow smoke up your ass. So if they say your work is good, and valuable, then it is. Especially the Montgomerys. I don’t think that family could tell a lie if they were at gunpoint.”

  Norah almost laughed out loud at Gloria saying ‘ass’, but then remembered she wasn’t eight years old. She swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Gloria’s features softened and she laughed a little.

  “Now drink your coffee and show me that sketchbook you brought in.”

  Norah was happy to steer away from the topic of the Montgomery family. Gloria had always been a huge cheerleader for anything Norah did, and she’d never seen any of her later drawings, so she was anxious to see how her aunt responded.

  “You always did love drawing,” Gloria said as she took the coiled book into her hands, gently, like it was precious. She lifted the cover and found sketches and schematics, studies in eyes and the fine details of hands, things Norah had done to work the rust out of her fingers. Norah was thankful when she skipped pages and moved back and forth, missing the obvious portrait of Banks. She’d drawn Sailor a half dozen times; the foal was on her mind almost as much as Banks was, and she yearned to return to his ranch to visit the mare and baby.

  Norah watched Gloria’s expression as she leafed through the drawings, her smile growing every few pages. Her aunt paused here and there and touched the paper. She stopped at a drawing and raised her eyebrows, turning the sketchbook toward Norah.

  It was a drawing she’d done of the side of Banks’ face. She had to actively limit herself from just drawing him and Sailor all the damn time, but she wouldn’t have guessed he’d be recognizable. Gloria smiled and tapped her finger on the sheet. You could just see the edge of Banks’ jaw, the back of his ear, the back of his neck. Like he was going somewhere and Norah was following him and he’d turned back to check on her in his peripheral vision.

  “What’s this?”

  If she’d been better at a poker face, her blush might not have given her away.

  “A drawing.”

  “Don’t be cheeky, I know it’s a drawing. Is this that Rob fellow, or someone different?”

  Norah could have lied, then. But she knew everything would come out eventually.

  “Gloria, that’s Banks.”

  She didn’t think her aunt’s left eyebrow could have gotten much higher without leaving her face altogether.

  “I see.”

  The truth was, anytime she drew Banks, it always turned out feeling more intimate than just a portrait. And not the kind of intimate where an artist cares about getting the closeness and humanity of their subject right. The kind of intimate where the artist knows more about the subject than they let on, when the emotions they felt about their subject translated right onto the paper, and anybody who was even remotely in tune to art could tell exactly what the artist felt when they drew that person. And if she wasn’t mistaken, Gloria was picking up on that right now.

  When her aunt looked up, she was smiling like she knew a secret, and Norah knew she was found out. She blushed without meaning to, cursing the tell that she’d been afflicted with since childhood.

  “I have a little crush,” she finally admitted.

  “I see,” her aunt said without any emotion in her voice. Much like Nan, Gloria knew how to wait for information, inconspicuously lead her subject to get the information she sought. Her soft approach was working like a charm, Norah realized as she searched for the words to tell her great aunt everything, from the reason she was here to her little crush on Banks, and everything in between.

  “I need to tell you something, Aunt Gloria,” she said, minding that her aunt’s coffee was on the table. “I’m pregnant.”

  Gloria’s right brow joined her left. Norah watched with trepidation, waiting for her aunt’s features to settle on a readable expression. When they finally did, a broad smile nearly cracked her face open and she got up from the table, sweeping Norah up in a hug so tight she was sure it would be imprinted on her body.

  “Oh Norah, that’s wonderful!”

  It was the most enthusiastic response she’d gotten yet and it was a balm on all the fissures created by the other reactions she’d experienced when sharing her news, especially Rob’s. She wasn’t all the way healed up, but it was through love like this, and the patient encouragement of Banks and his family that she would eventually feel whole, and like herself again.

  “You think so?”

  “Heavens, why wouldn’t it be?” Gloria asked, holding her out at arm’s length to look her over before she finally released her.

  All of the emotions she’d been keeping carefully in check since she’d arrived in Three Rivers suddenly rushed Norah, pushing tears
into her eyes that blurred her vision. She made a noise, part laugh, part sob, and drew a big breath.

  “Oh my love,” her aunt said, drawing her back into her embrace. She held Norah close, with love, and Norah let everything go. All of the stress and worry and anxiety. All of the feelings of abandonment, uncertainty, and regret. She was safe, even safer than she felt with Banks, and she knew, with certainty, that this was where she belonged. Here, with a family member who loved her, with a good man, in a good town, filled with good people who cared about her.

  After she’d emptied every emotion out of her body, Gloria finally released her, swiping at a tear on her cheek. She’d only shed a few since this entire thing had started, which had shocked her, since pregnant women were supposed to be hormonal and irrational, but here it was.

  Her aunt gestured for her to bring their conversation into the coziness of her little sitting room and settled in the wingback chair across from the love seat with her coffee.

  “So is that why you’re here?”

  Impressive, the way she’d narrowed in on it.

  “Yes. We were on our way to Salt Lake City to start over. Rob stopped here and it slipped out. He got angry and Layla Montgomery locked him out of the bar. He left without me.”

  “Well that was some divine intervention, wasn’t it?”

  —FIFTEEN—

  “You should take a break,” Banks said from the doorway. When Norah looked up, he was leaning against the frame, all long and lean and cowboy cool. The rush of goodness she got even made the little Jellybean she carried do a little flutter and without meaning to, Norah blushed. Damn it.

  She’d tried not to think about the kiss at all. He hadn’t said another thing about it after she’d left that night, and she was sure she scared him off with the pregnancy. They’d even been alone together, in his truck, in the office, enough times he could have talked about it if he wanted. Still nothing.

  There was plenty enough work to keep her distracted—between the new computer needing set up, and the scanning of all the old reports, plus inventory due any time. But still her mind wandered back to it when she wasn’t expecting it, and especially when Banks was standing in the doorway of her office with a smile on his face that was half sexy, half trouble.

  God, I’m in trouble.

  He’d spent the entire morning interfering with her work, in her mind, and then also physically getting in the way. The new computer had arrived the day before and he seemed particularly interested in setting it up. She knew he was trying to help, but at this point he needed to clear out or she’d never get a thing done. Between the physical and emotional interference, she couldn’t focus at all.

  He’d thank her in the end, once she could develop a reliable system for their filing and record keeping, and teach it to him. But she couldn’t do any of that as long as he was coming into the office ‘to get something’, reaching over her, standing so close she could smell his after shave, and just generally triggering flashbacks to that hot second in the barn at his place. She’d replayed it often enough in her own time; she didn’t need that extra distraction here where she was supposed to be earning a paycheck.

  “Taking a break is a brilliant idea,” she said, standing up. She stretched a little, moving her hips to get circulation moving back through her body and grabbed her sketch pad and pencils. She’d stowed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in her purse so she grabbed that, too. “I think I’ll get some air.”

  There wasn’t anything sexy about trees and grass. And yet another outline of Sailor started on the last page of the book. There wasn’t anything sexy about that, either. She could get some air and distance and hopefully be renewed for the afternoon’s work with a clear mind.

  “Good idea,” Banks said, stepping back so she could come through the office door unfettered. It was still too close, but she turned her back right away, scooting for the front door. Crash materialized out of nowhere, bumping against her legs.

  “Can he come out with me?” she asked, glancing back over her shoulder. Banks nodded, still leaning against the door, hands in his pockets. If she wasn’t imagining things, he’d been watching her go. Well shit. He was on her brain every other second, but it was safe as long as he wasn’t thinking about her, too. If he was thinking about her, she was in extra trouble.

  “Of course, he’ll like that.”

  Norah stepped out into the sun, taking a deep breath. When she wasn’t breathing the same air as Banks, it was easier. Crash bounded ahead, heading straight for the picnic table under the shade of a big mature maple and she followed, dropping down onto the seat of the picnic table. Before he would let her turn and get to her drawing, the dog shoved his big, square head into her lap, demanding an ear scratch. She rubbed, two handed, behind his ears, until his tongue lolled out and his eyes rolled back in his head. When he was satisfied that he’d been sufficiently petted, he wriggled his way under the table and stretched out in the shade on his side. Norah swung her legs around and opened up her sketch book to the drawing of Sailor.

  She unwrapped her sandwich while she reviewed her work. She’d started with his tippy little ears and the long whiskers on his nose, but the other details were starting to fill in. Now that she’d started drawing again, she was addicted—outside of Banks and what little she could focus on at work, and of course when Jellybean demanded her attention either through movement or sickness—all she could think about was her drawing; what she would draw next, when she could afford some different supplies, and the impending need for a new sketchbook. Thanks to Layla taking her to the thrift shop for some clothes, she still had over half the money Banks had loaned her, but it felt selfish to use it on art supplies.

  Norah didn’t know how much time had passed but as she started to sketch out Dixie’s muzzle touching Sailor’s, a shadow cast over her page. She knew without turning around that it was Banks because her body was doing that thing where it noticed him if he was anywhere in her proximity. It was handy, but distracting. She felt him sit down next to her, and glanced over at him to see him sliding a food takeout carton toward her.

  “What’s this?”

  “Nan dropped off some lunch.”

  “Well she didn’t have to do that,” Norah said, but closed her sketch book and pulled the food closer. Jellybean wanted fed at all hours of the day and night these days and the sandwich was but a drop in the ocean.

  “It’s Tuesday—ladies’ auxiliary luncheon. She always brings leftovers for the office.”

  He handed her a napkin-wrapped bundle of plastic cutlery, and Norah opened her carton to find a cold plate with potato salad, two kinds of macaroni salad, and a variety of cold meats. Her mouth watered—these days, it watered at just about everything, present company included.

  “What would Nan do if she didn’t have people to take care of?” Norah asked, digging in without waiting for him. Banks chuckled in response, shaking his head as he scooped up a fork full of pasta salad.

  “Nothing, probably. She lives to take care of people. And the people in this town need her to take care of them, too.” He paused, seeming to consider his Nan for a moment. The love in the family was more than evident to Norah. If she thought about it, she couldn’t remember Banks or Nate ever talking about parents being in the picture, but Nan was always there. It didn’t take much work to figure out that Nan had been their primary caretaker growing up.

  “She seems like a pretty important part of the town. She’s been pretty important to my story here, that’s for sure.”

  “She’s the glue that holds us together.” Banks said, cracking open a can of soda he’d brought out with him.

  Norah couldn’t argue with that, so they ate in silence for a few moments, Norah mowing through her meal, barely coming up for air. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until Banks had set the food down in front of her. When they’d finished, he wiped his hands and mouth, drained his can of soda, and gestured to her sketch book.

  “Would you show me one of your
drawings?”

  Norah could hear her heartbeat whooshing in her ears, then made the executive decision to hand over her book. She flipped it open to the work in progress of Sailor—that was safe, and Banks would like it. She couldn’t stop thinking about the foal, the miracle of her birth, the natural way that Dixie had just assumed the role of motherhood with none of the silly anxiety or worries that seemed to plague Norah whenever she thought about what happened when Jellybean wasn’t on the inside anymore.

  Featherlight, he traced his fingers over the edge of the drawing, the lines that defined the foal, and then Dixie’s muzzle.

  “This is special,” he said, with the kind of reverence that made her heart constrict a little bit. It was respect and sincere interest—things she hadn’t realized she was missing until they were present. “Do you mind if I keep looking?”

  She shook her head, but clasped her hands together to stop from grabbing the book away from him. There had been a time she had been proud to show off her drawing, but she was rusty and this felt personal—these weren’t life figures in a drawing class anymore, these were the bits and pieces of her life that meant something to her now. The things that were important. And it felt as intimate to allow someone else to casually leaf through them as it would have to strip naked, but if she’d said no, she’d have felt the need to explain herself.

  The next page was the baby, the rendering of Jellybean on Earth. The child was a study in Norah’s features; could have been taken directly from an image of Norah as a toddler. She’d worked purposefully to leave out anything that made her think of Rob. He didn’t deserve to be a part of this child, in life or in physical attributes. Norah had enough goodness inside of her to fuel this little life without his influence, and she wanted it to be that way.

  “Is this…?” Banks trailed off.

  Norah unclasped her hands long enough to cover her little bulge of belly with her palms. She nodded.

  “What I think the baby will look like, anyways.”

  “This is special, too,” Banks said, meeting her gaze. “You have real talent, Norah. How come these aren’t hanging in a gallery somewhere?”