The Lawman's Holiday Wish

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Dorrie!”

  “Dorrie, you’re here!”

  Two little voices chimed her name in unison.

  Luke met the principal’s curious glance. “That’s the secret knock they use in their tree house at my place.”

  “Ah.”

  “Why are you guys in the closet?” Dorrie asked.

  Not one of the adults had asked the kids why they’d locked themselves in there.

  “Sonya was sad,” Aiden explained.

  Oh... Rainey’s heart melted a little, thinking of how kind Luke’s son must be.

  “So she hid in the closet?” Dorrie’s tone said that was kind of a dumb thing to do.

  “No.” Sonya’s voice this time. “I went to a thinking place, like we do at Luke’s. In the tree house. And Aiden said he wanted to think, too.”

  “Well, are you done?” Dorrie’s voice hovered near impatience. “Because I’ve got things to do and if you’re done thinking, then get out of there. Okay?”

  “All right.”

  “Okay.”

  The adults waited, almost not breathing, watching for the handle to turn. Listening for the lock to disengage.

  Click.

  The tiny sound had them all breathing a sigh of relief. The door handle turned, paused, then turned again, and when the door swung outward, two little hands were clutching the knob.

  “We did it!”

  “Yeah, we did!” Aiden and Sonya high-fived each other, but their joyous expressions faded when they spotted the crowd of adults just outside the door.

  Luke scooped up Aiden.

  Rainey did the same to Sonya.

  Dorrie arched a brow at both children. “Guys, you can’t do that in kindergarten.” She flounced her one tight ponytail for effect. “You have to stay in your chair and think.”

  Sonya rolled her eyes, amazed. “No one can do that.”

  Aiden sent Dorrie a similar look, then buried his head in Luke’s shoulder.

  “Let’s walk down to my office, shall we?” Mr. O’Mara’s request held a mixture of relief and consternation. “Miss Patterson, we’ll let you return to the rest of your class.”

  Luke didn’t seem relieved to have his kid out of a scrape as much as furious that this had happened in the first place.

  Was there something wrong with Rainey that she wasn’t so upset? She was amused, yes. Angry? Not so much.

  But she and Miss Sonya would have a heart-to-heart talk about locking doors, once they got home.

  Mr. O’Mara pointed to the bench outside his office. “If the kids would like to sit here while we talk, that would be fine.”

  “Fine?” Luke sputtered the word and held his son tighter. “Mr. O’Mara, nothing about this whole situation could be called fine. You put my kid at risk. You put Sonya at risk. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that you put an entire kindergarten class at risk by not having a key to that art closet.”

  “Maybe not the whole kindergarten,” Rainey murmured. When Luke stared at her, she shrugged. “It’s only big enough to hold two or three kids at a time, tops.”

  “This isn’t funny.” The clipped note in his voice underscored his emotion.

  Rainey reached up to touch Aiden’s cheek, then ruffled Sonya’s hair. “It is, kind of. I think it shows great resourcefulness that these two took a calming technique you taught them and put it to good use. But next time, don’t lock the door.” She made eye contact with both kids, one at a time. “Locked doors are dangerous if we don’t have a key.”

  “Exactly.” Luke’s glare said she’d finally made a good point.

  “So we’ll get a key for that door, but only grown-ups will use it. And if you need thinking time away from the other kids, what should you do?”

  Sonya shrugged.

  Aiden glared at her, much like his father was doing.

  “Tell a grown-up,” Rainey instructed. “Grown-ups are on your side. I promise.” She settled a look of honest, trusting patience on each child in turn, praying the sincerity of her words would reach them. From what she could see, she was successful, and she wasn’t afraid to thank God for that.

  If only there was a similar way to comfort the distraught father standing opposite her. The deep contours of his face said calming him down wasn’t going to be quite as easy.

  * * *

  Luke felt Aiden’s body relaxing in his arms.

  Mr. O’Mara looked more comfortable, too, as if he was buying Rainey McKinney’s spiel.

  Buying it? Of course he’s buying it. She made perfect sense, while you were about to jump off the deep end, trying to make Aiden’s life “Secret Service safe.” Let the kid fly a little.

  His mother had scolded him about that not long ago, and Luke didn’t talk to her for nearly a week, but finally had to give in. First, because she was right. Second, because he couldn’t go seven days without her chicken biscuit pie.

  He drew a deep breath and felt his overanxious heart start to settle down.

  “Mr. O’Mara, did you have something you wanted to add?” Seeming quite at ease, Rainey shifted her attention to the principal.

  He shook his head. “I think you covered it all, Rainey.”

  “Then you—” Rainey set Sonya down and squatted next to her “—scoot back to your classroom, and behave yourself. The bus will bring you home in one hour.”

  “You’re not taking me home now?” Sonya looked scared, as if worried what her teacher’s reaction would be. Luke wondered the same thing himself, but Rainey simply shook her head.

  “You need to be brave every day. And follow directions. That’s how life is, cupcake, and I’d be doing you no favor by babying you.”

  Luke wanted to hug Sonya. Reassure her. Tell her everything would be all right. Then hold her hand and take her home.

  To his surprise, Sonya sent a resigned look to her mother, then walked slowly down the hall. She turned to glance over her shoulder as she stepped into the kindergarten room, but Rainey kept her gaze averted, as if she expected the daughter to follow directions.

  And the kid did it.

  Luke eyed Aiden.

  He should do the same thing. Put his son down and let him go face the dragon lady on his own.

  He started to set Aiden down, but the boy clung to his neck. He didn’t say a word, didn’t whimper or whine, but that stranglehold on Luke’s neck spoke volumes. “I’m going to drop Aiden off with his sitter, then send him back on Monday.”

  “All right, Luke.” Mr. O’Mara looked as if he wanted to say more, but thought better of it. The principal had made a wise choice, considering Luke’s current mood.

  He walked out of the building just behind Rainey and wasn’t sure if she was hurrying to stay ahead of him, or to make certain she escaped before Sonya or Dorrie did something else. Either way, he needed to thank her. “Rainey.”

  She turned at the edge of the parking lot. “Yes?”

  Luke shrugged his free shoulder. “Thank you. You stayed calm and levelheaded. It helped. A lot.”

  She waved him off as if it was nothing, but Luke knew better. Staying calm under pressure was a wonderful trait, something he prided himself on.

  Except when it came to Aiden.

  He followed her to her car at the back of the full lot. “Have you thought about what I said the other day?” He shifted the boy slightly in his arms. “You saw Dorrie in there. You heard how things went down. I think it could work in everyone’s favor.”

  Rainey stood perfectly still for a long, drawn-out moment, then smiled at Aiden. “We’ve got nothing to lose, right?”

  “Right.”

  She hesitated again, then nodded. “How about if I bring the girls over tomorrow afternoon? The store is busy on Saturday mornings, but if Noreen can take over by
midday, we’d have a few hours together. Dorrie wants to show me the tree house and Sonya wants me to help her take care of the animals.”

  “Bring your barn boots,” Luke warned. The image of Rainey hanging out in the barn, feeding his menagerie, brightened his thoughts. That was something he’d have to think about later.

  Rainey laughed. “Will do. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She slipped behind the wheel of her mother’s car and backed out of the spot carefully. Aiden lifted his head and offered Luke a penitent expression. “I’m sorry.” He whispered the words in a tragic voice, a voice that took Luke back nearly three years.

  He hugged the little guy, withdrew the booster seat he kept in the cruiser’s trunk, and fastened Aiden into the backseat. “No more locked doors, okay?”

  Aiden nodded, but as Luke settled himself into the driver’s seat, he glimpsed a tiny look of satisfaction on his son’s face reflected in the rearview mirror. It vanished as soon as they made eye contact, but Luke hadn’t gotten to be a decorated deputy by accident. The kid had smirked, knowing he’d pulled one over on his teacher, the principal and now his father.

  Which meant Luke’s mother was right. Again. Aiden knew how to play his dad and wasn’t afraid to pull out all stops to avoid going to school. But what could Luke do about it other than order the kid to stay in class, in his seat, and pay attention?

  Luke called his former sister-in-law and asked if she could watch Aiden an hour early. She agreed, and he headed to the opposite side of Kirkwood Lake, stewing over his choices.

  Rainey’s kid was back in class, following the rules.

  His was heading home, essentially getting a reward for misbehaving.

  Luke didn’t have to wonder which kid learned the better lesson. The realization that Rainey had instinctively handled the situation more effectively than all the other adults around her, including him, made him realize he might have a thing or two to learn from Rainey McKinney himself.

  * * *

  Regret waged war with common sense as Rainey drove back to the farm. Sonya’s expression of woe had tugged at Rainey’s heart, even though she’d pretended ignorance.

  “Better they cry now than you cry later....”

  Her mother’s words struck home. She’d gone easy on Rainey as a child. And Rainey had strayed from the right path and caused her mom grief. But they’d both learned a valuable lesson the hard way, and Sonya and Dorrie would benefit from it. She hoped.

  Rainey’s brain revved into overdrive as she passed the park sign: Kirkwood Lake Bicentennial Kickoff! Join us for a Fall Festival of fun and food as Kirkwood Lake begins its year-long, 200-years-young birthday celebration!

  Piper and Lucia had reserved a festival spot during the bicentennial planning phases last spring. There was plenty of room to include a dairy booth. That would give Rainey a chance to meet folks, show them she’d changed and tempt them with the wonderful goods from the dairy store. Tackling the problem head-on might bring back old customers and attract new ones, crucial elements for the upcoming holiday season.

  Can you do this? Face people, hour after hour, keeping your game face on?

  Her resolve faltered as she turned into the farm driveway, but then she hauled in a deep, cleansing breath.

  God had blessed her.

  She was stronger now than she’d ever been. Sure, she’d take hits. After the cool welcome she’d encountered in town the first month, she’d be naive to expect otherwise.

  But she was made of hardy stock, and endowed with a faith that moved mountains. Determined, she parked the car and dashed into the house for a notepad and pencil, before going on to the dairy store located behind the farmhouse. As she rushed through the empty dining room, the afternoon light shone on Christmas pictures of Dorrie and Sonya.

  So much time gone. Memories Rainey could never be part of because she hadn’t been here.

  The twins were dressed alike in the first picture, but even then Dorrie’s eyes had gleamed with mischief, while Sonya’s gentle gaze begged for love. The next image showed them a year older, sitting with Santa at the Fireman’s Hall. The girls had posed with the jolly old elf individually, then together in front of a huge Christmas tree. To the right of the tree was a beautiful crèche, carved figures of the Holy Family in a rugged wooden barn.

  The final picture showed the girls last year, playing angels in a living Nativity scene sponsored by a local church. They’d been dressed in white bedsheets, their latte-toned skin contrasting with their robes. Gold garland halos nestled against their dark hair. Beyond them lay a sheep and a lamb, while slightly older children played the parts of Mary, Joseph and the wise men.

  It wrenched Rainey’s heart.

  She lifted the first picture, of the girls as adorable toddlers. Was she wrong to have left?

  Probably. But her leaving had ensured the girls safety and that was what mattered. Rogue cops were nothing to be taken lightly, and bad cops who’d had witnesses disappear before?

  They’d posed a direct threat thwarted by her whistle-blowing phone calls.

  This year would be different. She wouldn’t spend this Christmas alone, crying as she tended animals in an empty veterinary clinic outside Chicago. She’d be here in Kirkwood, with the girls and her mother. With Uncle Berto, Piper and the Harrison family next door. For the first time in three years Rainey wouldn’t dread the change of seasons and the lonely holiday. This year she’d join in the celebration, because this year she was home. And no matter what happened, she was home to stay.

  She joined Noreen in the store and used the next few hours to roughly sketch how she’d like the dairy booth to look.

  At seven o’clock, she closed the store and headed for the house, reenergized. The family gathered for a meeting each Friday night, where everyone aired ideas and compared notes. At tonight’s get-together she’d convince them to let her put her best foot forward. No matter what, she had to make them listen to her concerns about the loss of business. And take action. Even if it meant Rainey had to find a different job. She crossed the wide yard and hurried into the house.

  Wedding plans were spread out across the large dining room table. Farm notes were laid out in similar fashion in the kitchen.

  “I saved food for you.” Lucia smiled at Rainey as she came into the room. “Nice and warm, in the oven. You eat and we talk.”

  Food was the last thing on Rainey’s mind, but her mom’s caretaking was a welcome respite from the negativity she encountered whenever she stepped off the farm. “Thanks, Mama.”

  “Okay.” Rainey’s sister, Piper, called for attention as people grabbed seats. “Wedding first. Let’s take thirty minutes to coordinate things and make sure we’re synchronized.”

  “Are we planning a wedding or strategizing a battle plan?” Zach Harrison wondered, but then the New York State trooper flashed a smile toward his fiancée.

  Piper leveled him a look, then laughed. “How can we have seven adults in this family and not one of us has ever planned a wedding?”

  Zach’s father shrugged. “Zach’s mother did all the work for Julia and Evan’s wedding. My job was to sign the checks.”

  Zach held up ringless hands. “First-timer.”

  Piper acknowledged his hand and added, “And your only time, buster.”

  Her mom made a face of regret. So did Uncle Berto, Lucia’s brother.

  “Julia’s planned a wedding. Maybe we should have her come over,” Zach suggested. His sister was living in his house next door, until she closed on her own place two miles south.

  Berto sprang out of his chair. “I will go watch her little boys and she can talk flowers and fancy cakes and things. On wedding day, I will be a bear.” He drew up his shoulders to make himself look bigger. “Moving things, setting things up, taking things down, this I can do. Planning a party?” He strode to t
he door, looking relieved. “Miss Julia will be better equipped.”

  Lucia waved him on. “Go. It is a good idea. The boys like their uncle Berto.”

  “Me, too.” Piper sent him a look of gratitude. “Thank you.”

  Julia joined them less than five minutes later. She carried a clipboard and had a pen stuck behind her ear. She walked in, scanned the planning notes on the table, and within thirty minutes had a timeline of the wedding day mapped out. “I’ll transfer this to my laptop this weekend,” she told them when they wrapped up the session. “And I’ll email it to each of you. Notify me if anything changes and I’ll keep it updated.

  “Everything’s been ordered,” she continued. “We’ll use the front barn for the reception if the weather turns bad, and we have six days after the wedding to get ready for the bicentennial festival. That takes us right into the holidays. We’ll be fine as long as we pay attention to details.”

  Marty Harrison grinned at her. “You are your mother’s daughter, for sure.”

  Julia’s smile turned bittersweet. “I see Mom’s face when I look in the mirror. But that could mean I’m getting old.”

  “That’s my vote,” Zach quipped.

  Julia punched his arm, then laughed when he hugged her. “Mom would have loved seeing you get married.” The wistful note in her voice said she missed their late mother. “And she’d adore Piper.”

  Zach nudged his future wife. “Me, too.”

  “And now, the farm plans.” Piper moved to the kitchen table, but not before she met Zach’s smile of appreciation with a wink. “The legal move to incorporate as Harrison-McKinney Farms will be completed next week.” She high-fived Zach’s father across the table. Their new partnership put McKinney Farms back on solid financial ground. Except for the current loss of business in the dairy store.

  “But we’ll keep the name McKinney Farms to avoid confusion,” Marty added. “Keeping it simple is best for business and reputation.”

  “Marty’s name will be added to the farm signs we’ve ordered, and it will be on our letterhead and all official documents.”

  “And Piper and I are going to the stock sale in early November to add a new line of heifers to our breed stock,” Marty added. “By next fall we should have an overabundance of milk to supply the new Greek yogurt facility near I-90 and the dairy store.”