Deputy Daddy

by Patricia Johns

  “This is a weird situation,” he replied.

  Was it? It felt that way, but when she examined the situation objectively, she couldn’t really defend that.

  “No, it isn’t. I’m providing a service, and you are my guest. This shouldn’t be complicated at all.”

  “And yet it is.” His tone was quiet, and he almost sounded like he was talking to himself. But he was voicing the same thing that she was thinking—that while they had no good reason for this tension, it was still there.

  “Look, extreme experiences change boundaries a bit. In my job, this happens a lot. When I have a partner on patrol, I end up a lot closer to that officer than I’d be to a regular coworker if I had a standard nine-to-five job. Extreme situations warp the boundaries a bit.”

  “But we aren’t partners on patrol,” she reminded him.

  “No, but we are caring for a newborn.”

  Lily looked toward the bassinet and smiled sadly. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

  “And while I’d like to keep my emotional distance from Piglet, I’m not doing a really great job of that, either. So don’t be too hard on yourself. You’d have been perfectly businesslike if there weren’t a baby in the mix,” he said.

  Was that all this was—a reaction to having a newborn to care for? It would be a huge relief if this could all be so easily explained and filed away. Babies did change things... Her brothers had been the same.

  “Is that what this is?” she asked.

  “Let me put it this way,” he said. “It’s going to be really hard to say goodbye to that little girl when the time comes. I know what I have to do, but that doesn’t make it any easier. So maybe you could just start those boundaries with the next guy.”

  Lily laughed softly. “Are we past the point of no return here?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’d wanted to be different than this,” she confessed. “In my head, I’m much more refined.”

  “I like you this way.” His gaze warmed, and he cast her a smile.

  He was so reassuring that she was inclined to believe him. He made her feel like the best version of herself when she was standing there in front of him, even if she questioned that version once she was safely by herself again.

  Bryce pushed himself off the counter and glanced at his watch. “I guess I’d better get going.”

  “Dinner!” she exclaimed. As quickly as that, the moment was past, and real life rushed back into the room.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I was planning on getting a burger tonight anyway.”

  Was he? Or was he just being kind and letting her off the hook?

  “Did you want to come along?” he asked.

  “No.” She shook her head quickly. “Thanks, though. I’ll be fine.”

  She had cleaning to do, some cinnamon rolls to bake for tomorrow’s breakfast. She also wanted to call her mom and brothers tonight. Her family needed her, too, and she’d been so wrapped up with her B and B that she was feeling guilty.

  Bryce shot her a grin. “Okay. I’ll see you later then.”

  She nodded, and he disappeared down the hallway. The front door opened and shut, and she was left alone in the kitchen thinking about the next time she’d see him. He’d said that if it weren’t for Emily, she’d be perfectly businesslike, but she wasn’t so sure about that. He was getting past all of her defenses and down to her heart.

  Chapter Seven

  Bryce’s mother had raised him to go to church. While his father had never cared a whole lot whether he went to service or not, it was one thing his mother would not bend on in his boyhood years. He could still remember the verses she’d help him learn—stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet so that neither of them would forget their nightly ritual.

  For God so loved the world that he gave his only son...

  He’d learned a good portion of scripture because of the dedication of his mother and his Sunday school teachers. He’d learned right from wrong, and he’d accepted Jesus as his savior. And while that had given him an excellent foundation on which to build his life, it hadn’t filled the hole left behind by his father. Not that the other officers in Fort Collins needed to know any of that. All they knew was that he was a Christian, and that a Christian cop was being disciplined for striking a fellow officer. He knew that God had forgiven him for this error in judgment, but he hadn’t forgiven himself.

  His fellow officers expected more of him. If they were telling inappropriate jokes, they toned it down when he came into earshot. They didn’t take God’s name in vain around him, and if they did, they apologized. It wasn’t that he’d ever said anything to them, but the fact that he was a Christian meant something to them. But it meant something to him, too, and just because he’d messed up didn’t mean he got to walk away from his spiritual touchstone.

  Sunday morning, Bryce sat in the Hand of Comfort Christian Church—a play on words for the name of the town, if he’d ever heard one—with Lily beside him and the baby asleep on her lap. Lily was wearing that cherry dress she’d had on the first time he’d met her, and he found it oddly soothing. She looked peaceful, her gaze turned downward, her milky white skin glowing under the light of a stained glass window.

  Sitting in church next to a beautiful woman who intrigued him in ways he’d never experienced before, looking down at the baby who had stolen his heart against his better judgment...it made him long for something down so deep that it felt like an ache. This was the sort of thing he should write in his little notebook—pretending this was his family, if only for a moment. He was allowing himself to go through the motions of starting something, even though he knew that Lily saw straight through him—but he wouldn’t write anything in that notebook. Not today. He had the weekend off, so he figured it was only fair to take a vacation from writing in the notebook, too. Sunday could be a day of rest from self-recriminations, as well.

  The offering plate had been passed, hymns had been sung, and the pastor had just stood up to preach. He was a large man with strong features and a humble tone. The pastor’s wife seemed to be the obviously pregnant woman at the piano, because the pastor referred to her as “sweetheart,” and it struck Bryce as rather touching.

  “He’s a new pastor here,” Lily whispered, leaning closer. “He’s a good preacher. I think you’ll like him.”

  Bryce wondered what it would be like to belong in a place like Comfort Creek, to be a part of the story here. There were times when he was in Fort Collins that he’d fantasize about starting over in some little town somewhere. He’d open a business and reinvent himself...but some problems couldn’t be escaped so easily—they followed a man around with the tenacity of friendly mutt—and he couldn’t escape who he was.

  Emily squirmed and let out a whimper. Lily pulled a bottle from her bag and popped it into her mouth. What was it about this particular baby’s dedication to draining a bottle that softened him like this? He reached over and tweaked one of Emily’s little socked feet. Her foot was so tiny, and when he let go, she thrust her foot out again toward him. She wanted his touch.

  Bryce wrapped his hand gently around that tiny foot, and he felt tears mist his eyes as he turned his attention to the pastor’s sermon. She drank her bottle like that—her foot in his hand, and he stroked her socked foot with his thumb, wondering if there would be the tiniest part of Emily that would remember him.

  Was God testing him? Was there special spiritual value in a broken heart? He’d spent years trying to avoid this—getting attached and getting hurt—and here he was heart-deep with a baby girl he’d never see again once he left Comfort Creek.

  The pastor was preaching on forgiveness—a topic he’d heard covered quite often in his home church in Fort Collins. But it wasn’t the sermon topic that grabbed Bryce’s interest, it was the illustration that he used.

  “In 198
8, a nineteen-year-old boy witnessed the murder of his elderly neighbor. Jacob Bernard was a promising student in his first year at college, home for Thanksgiving. He had just started dating a beautiful girl, and his future was bright. All he needed to do was to pretend he hadn’t seen anything...”

  The story went on, about how the boy had seen a mobster shoot this old lady as a message to someone the criminal was trying to manipulate, and if the boy had simply stayed mum, he’d have been able to go forward with his life. Instead, he decided to turn his back on his promising future, on the beautiful girl and on the loving home he’d been raised in, in order to testify in court against the mobster, and in return he was put into the witness protection program—a very lonely, quiet fresh start.

  Bryce looked over at Lily, the idea so solidly in his mind that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. Lily looked up at him in surprise when she sensed his sudden tension.

  “What?” she whispered.

  “I have an idea...” He looked at his watch. It was half past eleven, and he knew exactly who to call. If Aaron Bay was in witness protection, then this would be beyond his pay grade. Thankfully he had a buddy in the FBI—very low level, but still, he could look into a few things for Bryce. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Bryce stood and slipped past Lily’s knees and into the side aisle next to the stained glass window. The pastor went on with his sermon, and Bryce made his way out of the church as quietly as he could manage.

  Once outside, on the sunny steps that led up to the doors, Bryce pulled out his phone and swiped through the phone book until he got to the number he was looking for. He touched the dial button, and as it rang, his gaze landed on two young men sitting on the curb across the street.

  They had bottles covered in paper bags—so sneaky. No one would ever guess what was inside, he thought sarcastically. He rolled his eyes, then squinted to get a better look at them. They weren’t Burke or Randy, which was a small relief. Lily had been through enough lately. They looked to be in their early teens—not very old, despite the practiced way they swigged at the bottles.

  “That you, Bryce?” His friend picked up.

  It didn’t take long for Bryce to give the pertinent information and make his request. He’d return the favor sometime, if he was ever in the position.

  After hanging up, he sauntered in the direction of the seated boys. They scooted behind a tree when they saw him coming, but they were clearly a little bit inebriated, because their movements were uncoordinated, and they guffawed a little too loudly, followed by a hissed “Shhhhhh!”

  “Morning,” Bryce said.

  There was silence—as much silence as the boys could manage. It really consisted of some snuffled laughter.

  “I see you,” Bryce said. “And before you think of doing anything stupid, I’m a police officer.”

  The boys slowly emerged, minus the bottles, swaying slightly. They wore faded jeans and T-shirts with teenage bands on them. The closest boy pushed shaggy hair out of his face and peered at Bryce through bleary eyes. Now that he could get a good look at them, they looked almost identical, except one boy was slightly smaller.

  “What’re your names?” Bryce asked.

  “Let’s see your badge.”

  Bryce chuckled and pulled out his badge for their unfocused inspection. “Satisfied? Now what are your names?”

  “Carson.”

  “Chris.”

  “Carson and Chris who?” Bryce asked, stifling a sigh. The boys obviously didn’t want to say who they were, and they shuffled their feet, then froze when their gaze moved behind him.

  “Ellison,” a voice said behind him.

  Bryce turned to see Lily standing there with the baby on one shoulder, the diaper bag on the other, and a look of blistering fury on her face.

  * * *

  When Bryce left the pew, Emily had started to fuss, and Lily had been forced to come outside to soothe the baby so that they wouldn’t interrupt the service. Having done so, she immediately spotted and recognized her brothers. Carson and Chris were the babies of the family—less than a year old when Lily’s father passed away. Chasing after rambunctious twins had kept everyone busy, especially Lily when the life insurance ran out and her mother had to go back to work in order to support them.

  And there they stood, eyes bloodshot and booze bottles barely hidden in the grass. Her stomach dropped. She’d known that Randy and Burke had started to drink, but not the Little Ones.

  “More brothers?” Bryce asked wryly.

  It was even worse that this was in front of Bryce. He was a cop—would he report them to social services? And were they really this far into trouble that she was afraid for a law enforcement officer to see the reality of their family?

  “The twins,” she replied, anger welling up past the fear. “Twins who know better than this. Where did you get those bottles?”

  “Burke.”

  “He gave it to you?” She was already planning some consequences for every single last one of them. It mostly consisted of jobs around the house, but given time she could come up with something more creative.

  Chris looked away, and Carson’s gaze dropped to the grass.

  “Answer me.” The baby started to whimper at Lily’s tone, and Lily looked down at her big brown eyes. Emily didn’t know what was going on but sensed everyone was upset. Lily sighed and gently jiggled the baby in her arms.

  “I took it. He doesn’t know,” Carson said quietly.

  That still didn’t erase the fact that all four of her brothers were drinking, and obviously trying to get her attention with it, if they were doing it in front of the church. They needed her—but she didn’t know what to give anymore. They were looking to her to fix something that she didn’t know how to fix. She’d never felt more helpless in her life.

  “You do realize that underage drinking and drinking in public are both illegal,” Bryce said. The boys’ eyes whipped toward Lily, their expression changing from sullen teenager to panicked child. They were scared now—as they should be. So was she.

  “Tell him we’re sorry,” Chris said earnestly.

  “Tell him we won’t do it again,” Carson added.

  And there they were, looking to her to make it better, to take care of everything for them. At thirteen, they were barely more than children, and every time she looked at them, she remembered them as toddlers, standing there with sagging diapers and round eyes. They’d called her “Lily-please” for years.

  “If you’re grown up enough to break the law, then you’re grown up enough to talk to me directly,” Bryce said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  The rage slipped out of her, and it was replaced by a clench of fear as the two boys looked up at the cop. Lily-please, open this. Lily-please, get me the cereal. Lily-please, make me a snack... When they did something stupid, she always reacted with anger first, but that was only because it was easier to be angry than to be so deeply sad and scared at the same time. And she was scared.

  “Get in the car,” she said quietly.

  The boys trudged toward her familiar vehicle, out of earshot. They leaned back against the car without getting in, eyeing her with a mixture of uncertainty and defiance. Why couldn’t teenagers be easier? They wanted her help, and yet they still wanted to stand right on the edge. She turned toward Bryce.

  “Are you going to press charges?” she asked, trying to suppress the quiver in her voice.

  “Do you want me to?” His tone was professional, and he fixed her with a direct stare. He wasn’t feeling sorry for them like she was. The rest of the world didn’t see little boys when they looked at Chris and Carson.

  “No,” she said softly. “Please, don’t. I know this looks bad—you’ve seen the worst of us. But I’ll take them home and sit them all down together for a long tal
k. Punishing can only take us so far, and my mom and I need a better plan...and more time.”

  “Okay.”

  “So...” She glanced toward them. “You’ll let them off the hook this time?”

  “Once.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And I’m serious about that, Lily. I catch them drinking again and I take them in.”

  It was fair, and she nodded quickly. “Got it. I’ll make sure they understand that.”

  “But first, before you go—” his expression softened “—are you okay?”

  Was she? She wasn’t even sure. She was upset, out of her depth, scared for her brothers and unsure if she could even do anything about their troublesome ways. She wasn’t okay—not in this respect at least—and she hadn’t been for some time.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, tears rising in her eyes.

  “There are social service programs to help parents with out-of-control kids,” he said. “They’re good—they have no interest in taking kids away. They want to give families some tools to help get kids back on the straight and narrow.”

  “Social services,” she whispered. She’d spent her entire childhood taking care of her brothers in order to avoid social services being called into their home—and they’d only missed it by a hair sometimes. Now she was supposed to welcome them in with open arms?

  “I’d hate that.” She smiled wanly.

  “It’s an option,” he said. “I’m just putting it out there.”

  Professional intervention—it felt like failure to her. When they had a home filled with love and the best of intentions, they shouldn’t need a government counselor to step in.

  “I’ll take them home to my mom and we’ll have a family talk,” she repeated. It was all she had, but it was a start, and if they could find a way to pull together, maybe she could figure out how to address this. And if that didn’t work, maybe they’d all have to suck up their pride and ask for help.

  “Why don’t I take Emily back to the house?” Bryce suggested. “Then you can take care of things with your brothers.”