The Lawman's Holiday Wish

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Okay.”

  He hung up the phone and stared at it, half torn, half pleased.

  He probably shouldn’t be seeing Rainey again this soon. He suspected she knew it, as well. But he was seeing her, and right or wrong, that made him happy. For today, that was enough.

  * * *

  A cool, well-dressed blonde with great hair moved across the aisle when Rainey and the girls slipped into a pew at church the next morning.

  The gray-haired woman behind Rainey sniffed, clearly unhappy.

  And several folks seated closer to the front swept her a glance as they turned, pretending they were looking at something or for someone, but then their eyes strayed to Rainey, as if challenging her reason to be there.

  “Rainey! Good morning!” Pastor Smith’s wife bustled down the aisle and reached out to give her a quick and conspicuous hug. “So nice to have you back. And these two, I just love them!” She directed a look of pleasure at the twins. “They’re a handful at this age, but there’s not a day goes by that I don’t miss it, Rainey. Drink up this time with them.”

  “I will.”

  Piper slid in with Zach from the left, taking the seat the blonde had vacated. Rainey’s mother and uncle stepped in from the right. Marty took a seat directly behind them. The older woman seated next to him stopped her huffing, surrounded by McKinneys.

  Yet when Rainey was on her own, it was okay to act insulting.

  She stood up straight, shushed the girls gently and opened her hymnal as the opening notes of the piano sounded through the sanctuary, a song of peace, hope and love.

  She longed for all three, but what were the chances when her very presence upset so many?

  Rainey stood with her family, flanked by good people, people who trusted her heart. But did she have the right to put them at financial risk because she wanted to regain her standing in the family?

  They would shrug off the peril.

  She couldn’t. And that meant she had to make sure the dairy store stayed successful, or find another job.

  There was always work in Clearwater, the small city at the lake’s southern tip, even if it wasn’t high-paying. If that was the trade-off she needed to make, she’d do it, because end-of-year sales were huge in the area. Some folks would head south for the winter. Others wouldn’t travel around the lake to buy fresh milk, bread and eggs in the snow. She wanted to head into the holidays with strong sales and happy customers.

  But right now, with the family surrounded by negativity in the sweet, small church? Her goal seemed pretty impossible.

  * * *

  Luke pulled into the McKinneys’ driveway, rolled to a stop and wasn’t surprised when Aiden beat him out of the car.

  The twins banged through the wooden screen door, one after the other. “Aiden, we’re going out on the boat!” Dorrie screeched.

  “May I sit with you on the boat, Luke?” Sonya asked in a much softer tone.

  “Sure can.” He ruffled her hair. “And my dad’s going to be with us, too, so we can go exploring.”

  “I love going out on the water,” Dorrie announced as she marched to the car. “Bye, ’Buela! Love you!”

  Lucia waved in response as she approached Luke. “One is eager, one is cautious.”

  He swept Aiden and Sonya a quick glance. “Which is why we’re trying to push from different directions. Hoping for a more even keel.”

  “I think this can work,” Lucia agreed, then noted his eyes straying to the door. “Rainey is working at the store, if you wish to say goodbye.”

  He wanted to but wouldn’t.

  Friends. She’d made the pronouncement; he’d agreed. To push for more would be wrong. Except it felt too right to be wrong, but he didn’t have time to explore that now, and he wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to relationships.

  He shook his head and herded the kids to the car. “We’re good. Rainey knows I’m taking them, and the afternoons are getting short. I’ll have them back by six, like I promised.”

  Lucia hugged each kid in turn, then waved them off. “Have fun! Vaya con Dios, mi bebés preciosas!”

  “See you later!”

  “Bye!”

  Luke eased the car around the circular drive. It took all his energy not to pause and dash into the dairy store, but he made it, and then regretted his fortitude all the way to his parents’ place on the east shore.

  But once they pulled into the Campbell complex overlooking the lake’s point, his thoughts were taken over by a small woman affectionately labeled “Hurricane Jenny.”

  “Girls, hello!” His mother burst through the side door, ready to hug anything she could catch. “Aiden! Sonya! Dorrie! How are you guys? Ready for a boat trip with Grandpa?”

  “I am.” Dorrie nodded, hugged Luke’s mother and then raced to where his father was readying the boat at the end of the dock. “Grandpa Charlie, how are you?”

  “Me, too.” Aiden smiled up at his grandmother and arched a brow. “But Dad said you might have cookies here if we were good.”

  “Always, Aiden. You know that. Go see Grandpa, I think he’s ready for you.” She turned and bent to Sonya’s level. “Nice to see you again, sweetie.”

  Sonya smiled and twisted a lock of hair with one finger. “Luke said I could sit with him.”

  “Well, what girl can resist that?” his mother quipped. She gave Sonya a quick hug before sending her toward the boat. “Have fun. I’ll have cookies and milk waiting when you get back from your adventure.”

  The five-year-old turned. “This is an adventure?”

  His mother nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Sonya’s eyes widened. “My mom says it’s good to have adventures. And to be big and brave and bold all the time.”

  “Your mother is smart,” Jenny replied. “Moms always want their kids to be big and brave and bold.” Was it a coincidence that she angled a look Luke’s way at that moment?

  Nope. Jenny didn’t do coincidences. She was tight with God and a longtime mother, so making a point without a lecture was a practiced skill. Luke gave her a hug before following the kids to the boat. “See you in a little while.”

  “There’ll be family here when you get back.”

  “Always is.”

  Family was a given on Sundays. Everyone was welcome. But he’d be busy with three kids, so he might have to miss Seth’s football laments and Jack’s lectures on getting a life. Max was stationed at Fort Bragg for at least another year and Cassidy was working in Buffalo. Addie had just gotten a job as an instructor at St. Bonaventure College and Marcus was finishing a two-year clerking stint for a federal judge in D.C.

  They might seem far-flung, but they were Campbells at heart, all for one and one for all. Family gatherings strained the walls of his parents’ sprawling home now that grandchildren entered the picture. And Luke wouldn’t have it any other way.

  * * *

  “I’m making myself scarce,” Piper announced as she came downstairs late Sunday afternoon. “We’re having dinner at Zach’s place. I’d have you come along, but you’ve got supper well in hand, Rainey.”

  “Just simple stuff,” she replied, but didn’t miss the look her sister sent her way. “They’re bound to be hungry, don’t you think?”

  “Luke’s mother is an amazing cook, so I wouldn’t bet on it, but I’m impressed that you went to all this trouble to feed the girls when a peanut butter sandwich would do.”

  Rainey’s nonchalant shrug made Piper laugh. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you cooked enough for an army? You think he’ll stay?”

  “He’s welcome to,” was all Rainey would say. “Aiden needs more time out and about. Away from—” She bit her tongue and said no more.

  “Hillary?”

  “You know her?” Rainey turned, glanced at th
e clock and saw they had a few more minutes. “She’s a little overbearing.”

  Piper made a face. “Your description is more than kind, and I’ve been telling Luke for over a year that she babies Aiden too much, but he feels bad because his wife was Hillary’s fraternal twin. Losing Martha was hard on her.”

  “Losing a young mother is hard on everyone,” Rainey remarked. “It’s never easy to say goodbye. Was she sick for a long time?”

  Piper’s expression went quiet, but then the crunch of wheels on gravel pushed her to the door. “Lucia and Berto are eating with us. You’ve got the house to yourself.”

  Matchmaking.

  That’s why her mother and uncle had hightailed it out half an hour ago. And Piper ducked out the front door as Luke and the kids burst through the kitchen entrance.

  “Mommy, Grandpa Charlie made the boat go in circles!”

  “And he went superfast over some waves and we almost tipped over!”

  “And then he showed us where the swans live, but he said they’re going to go far away for the winter and they’ll come back when it’s warm again, but I don’t get that because it’s warm here.” Dorrie splayed her hands, indicating her shorts and T-shirt. “So why don’t they just stay? Because I like them. They’re very pretty.”

  “They remind me of fairy tales,” Sonya whispered. She hugged Luke’s leg. “Thank you for taking us to see them, Luke.”

  He swooped her up and returned the hug. “You’re welcome, toots. I’m glad you had fun. Grandpa Charlie had fun, too. And today’s weather was the exception, not the rule, Dorrie.” He grinned down at her as he palmed her head. “I expect by the time you unpack those shorts next spring, you’ll have outgrown them.”

  “Too true. How about you, Aiden?” Rainey squatted to his level. “Which did you like best? Going fast, spinning in circles or seeing the swans?”

  “I just like being with my daddy.” He tipped a sweet smile up to Luke, and Rainey saw the big guy melt on the spot.

  “Well, I like being with your daddy, too,” Dorrie announced, “but I mostly liked spinning!” She whirled dizzily, laughing as she tumbled onto the couch.

  “I can spin, too!” Aiden darted into the living room and mimicked her, giggling all the while.

  “Watch out for the kittens,” Rainey warned. “They’re loose out there.”

  “Kittens!”

  “Sweet!”

  Three little bodies scrambled to the floor, peering beneath upholstery skirting, hunting up tiny four-legged friends.

  “Something smells amazing.” Luke walked to the stove, lifted a lid and turned Rainey’s way. “Did you make pulled pork?”

  She nodded. “And yellow rice and corn. Are you hungry?”

  “Starved,” Dorrie announced as she came to the table. “Grandma Jenny had chicken and biscuits at their house and I ate some. Sonya said no, thank you, and Aiden just wanted cookies.”

  “Ah. Well...” Rainey lifted the lid on a rectangular pan. “I made a milk cake for dessert, but you have to eat some supper first.”

  “A milk cake?” The word cake grabbed Aiden’s interest. He moved closer. “Do you eat it with milk? Because I like milk and cake.”

  “You made tres leches cake?” Luke peeked over her shoulder and his sigh tickled the soft skin just below her ear. “From scratch?”

  “There is no other proper way to make milk cake,” she scolded. “There is the right way and there is the wrong way. This is the right way.”

  “You like to cook.”

  He was close. Too close. And yet not close enough, so she slipped from beneath his arm and moved a few feet away as she retrieved dishes from the cupboard. “I like to create. Cooking for cooking’s sake isn’t much fun, but a clean kitchen makes me want to jump in and make something. Your kitchen is amazing, by the way.”

  “Because it gets little use,” he admitted. “I grill on the nights I’m home. Even in winter. Or throw stuff in the oven. And the microwave is an amazing invention.”

  Rainey thought of her time away. Tuna, ramen noodles and mac and cheese had been her mainstays. She’d felt like the true prodigal coming home to a full pantry, a larder of food, homegrown meats and vegetables fresh-frozen for use year-round. She hadn’t realized the wonder of her mother until she was away from the goodness of a stocked kitchen. She grew up fast and hard while working on her own in Illinois, but she had grown up, finally.

  Luke took the plates out of her hands. “You cooked. I’ll set the table. Where’s the silverware?”

  “Here. But Dorrie and Sonya and Aiden can do that.”

  Dorrie dashed over. “I claim the spoons.”

  Sonya followed more quietly. “I’ll do the forks.”

  “Aiden?” Rainey held out five butter knives. “Can you put the knives around the table, please? Put one next to each plate?”

  “We’re eating at the table?” Eyes wide, he accepted the knives and followed Dorrie and Sonya, setting one at each place. “I love eating at the table!”

  Luke made a poor attempt to hide his guilty expression. Rainey made a guess as she withdrew three small jelly jars for glasses. “Tray tables in front of the TV?”

  His silence said she’d nailed it.

  “Good to see you realize your mistake, Deputy.” She handed each child a glass and Luke raised a hand.

  “You’re letting them use real glass?”

  “Of course. It’s fancier that way.”

  “We love eating fancy,” Dorrie assured him.

  Sonya gave a quick nod. “Mommy says if we take care of nice things, we can have more nice things someday.” She held up the eight-ounce jelly jar and her look of appreciation made Luke smile. “I want fancy glasses like this when I grow up.”

  “Me, too,” sighed Dorrie.

  * * *

  The girls’ wishes inspired Luke, while Rainey’s wisdom hit home. Through a series of little things, she was raising her daughters’ awareness of the world around them. Their appreciation for pretty things, inspiring a more careful nature, all because she let them use small Mason jars for their milk. He sighed, wishing he’d seen the simplicity of this sooner.

  “You’re still using sippy cups, aren’t you?”

  He flushed. “Aiden likes them.”

  “Of course he does.” Rainey shrugged lightly. “There’s no risk involved.”

  “I only use them in the house and the car. Outside I let him use plastic or paper cups, but he spills a lot.”

  “Practice makes perfect,” she offered over her shoulder as she stirred the pork. “Don’t you spill sometimes?”

  He saw her point. “Of course. But not on the good furniture. Or the carpet. Usually.”

  “So if you were eating at the table...” Her smile said she’d made her point.

  “Got it. No more sippy cups except in the car.”

  “Well, let’s go to point number two.” She set a tray of fresh, raw green beans and cherry tomatoes on the table. “Throw the sippy cups away and give him a regular cup with a straw-friendly lid in the car. Sippy cups are for babies. The kids in school will make fun of him if they see him drinking from one of those.”

  Luke ran a hand through his hair, wondering why he’d been so blind. And wondering how much Aiden had engineered his own coddling.

  “Hey, you did tell me to be honest, right?” Rainey faced him, but let her gaze go to the trio in the living room before bringing it back to Luke.

  “Yes.”

  “And I expect you to do the same in return.”

  “Except you seem real good at all this. Which is kind of weird, because you were gone for three years.”

  She breathed deep, then stood still for long seconds as the kids tried to tempt a kitten out from under the couch by wriggling a shoelace. “I had
time to think. To pray. To remember all the good lessons my mother tried to teach me. But I ignored them. I knew she felt remorseful because I had no father, and I used that to make her feel guilty. By the time she married Tucker McKinney, I was already a brat. But he was good to me. He adopted me, taught me how to ride and care for horses. How to run a tractor. How to milk cows. How to clean the dairy equipment. How to tell the difference between a finch call and a robin’s song.”

  “He loved you.”

  She grimaced. “And I still messed up. Being away taught me to appreciate what God has given me. I decided that when I got back, I’d be the best mother I could be.” She indicated the living room again. “But in many ways I’m still a stranger to them. They run to my mother and Piper first, understandably. I will do whatever it takes to help them be wonderful, sweet young ladies. And we’re going to bring that cute little boy along for the ride.”

  Rainey had bared part of her soul to him. And it wasn’t as if Luke didn’t realize why she’d run off three years ago. She’d been threatened by a crooked cop with high-level family connections, and she knew that turning him in would make her a target. And she’d thought the cop had the power to send her back to jail for breaking parole.

  Her innocence had been proved. Her name had been exonerated.

  But even though she was innocent of the crime she’d done time for, the people of Kirkwood Lake remembered the tough crowd she’d run with in high school. The problems they’d caused. People around here might forgive eventually, but they never forgot. And that was going to make things hard on Rainey.

  “Supper’s ready.”

  She broke the moment with a quick, fun whistle that brought the girls running. Aiden turned, surprised. “How did you do that?”

  Rainey did it again, one short blast, and the boy raced her way, delighted. “I want to whistle like that!”

  “We’ll practice,” she told him. “But not during supper.”

  Aiden’s eyes surveyed the dishes and he shrank back. “I don’t like this stuff.”

  “Really?” Rainey sat down at one end of the table. The girls hopped into their seats to her right. Luke took the chair opposite her, leaving Aiden the choice of sitting next to his father or Rainey. “Have you tried it?”