No way would he make it home in time to work with Emma and Lisa on the garden plan, Alex realized by noon on Saturday. Jack Samson’s wife had been taken to the hospital mid-morning with chest pain. Another guy’s wife was in labor in Jones Memorial. Alex was no stranger to double shifts, but not today.
Yes. Today.
He scowled, reached for the phone and hit Lisa’s number. She answered on the first ring, which meant what? Something? Nothing?
“Alex. What’s up?”
Her lack of inflection said he was just another business call. That disturbed him. “I’m short-handed at work and the world picked today to go on a crime spree. I’ll never make it home by four for the gardening session. I’ll be lucky to make it home by seven when George Novinski comes in to work, and that’s only if I can bring paperwork with me.”
“We’ll reschedule.” Background noise muffled her answer. Alex had no trouble picturing the thriving garden store on a height-of-the-season Saturday. “Call me tonight.” Click.
She hung up on him.
She was busy, his conscience scolded.
So was he.
She said call her later...
But he liked to be in charge. To set the tone. To command the situation.
Too bad.
* * *
“Twila, it’s Lisa.”
“Hey, purty girl!” Twila Buford’s voice squealed with delight. “Why are you calling me on a busy Saturday? I cannot believe you don’t have customers clamorin’ to buy your precious blossoms!”
Then and there Lisa decided she should record Twila-isms to play back in times of need because the old woman’s twang and phrasing always made her feel stronger. “We need an emergency session of the Weed Stealers this afternoon, four o’clock, 118 McCallister.” The Weed Stealers was a local group of good-hearted people who surreptitiously helped others with necessary yard work. They joined forces as needed, slipping in, doing the job and moving on, no thanks required.
“Where that fine-lookin’ lieutenant lives with all them sweet babies!” Twila’s voice crooned approval. “Mmm, mmm, mmm, I will get on the phone ASAP. Does Mr. Policeman know we’re coming?”
“No.” Lisa pressed her lips together, thinking, then went on, “We’ll surprise him like we usually do. I was scheduled to work with Emma, the oldest daughter on a 4-H project, but her father is caught up at work.”
“Oh, there’s been goin’s on!” Twila’s voice rose. “I’ve had the scanner goin’ all mornin’, and I’m not surprised that the good lieutenant is in the thick of things. What are folks thinkin’ these days?”
Twila was a no-nonsense person. If today’s happenings roused her concerns, then poor Alex must really be up to his neck in work. “I don’t know, Twila, but if you could gather a half-dozen people, we can make short work of this part of the job. I hate to disappoint Emma, and if Alex’s schedule stays frantic for whatever reason, we could lose the best window of time to get things in the ground.”
“I’m on it,” Twila promised. “Four o’clock, the lieutenant’s house. We’ll be there.”
Her promise eased Lisa’s concern. Landscaping early wasn’t a problem in the Southern Tier, but the closer they got to the unrelenting heat of summer meant struggling root growth. Constant watering. Extra work. A single dad did not need extra work. And Lisa wanted this garden to thrive for Emma’s sake.
And hers.
She swallowed a sigh, shoved her competitive nature into a holding pattern and refused to dwell on why she wanted to look good to Alex Steele. She had nothing to prove to him and no reason to try.
Except that her heart had softened when he grasped her arms on Tuesday. And delight hiked her cardiac rhythms when she saw his name in her cell phone display earlier.
She’d tamped down both reactions and stayed calm and cool. And that’s how things would remain because she’d been tossed aside once. On top of that, she’d been dealing with a dull ache, off and on, low in her abdomen. Annoying, mostly, but troubling, too. The chemo pills that helped block estrogen-receptive cancer elevated her risk of uterine cancer. At age twenty-nine, she’d been called on to make life-and-death decisions, one after another. She’d done it because it was necessary, but hated every minute of the process. And now...
You’re borrowing trouble. You’ve done this before. Call the doctor, set up an appointment and be done with it.
A part of her wanted to do that. A bigger part held her back. Was she afraid?
Yes. Absolutely. Unequivocally. She was short months away from her five-year mark, the standard measure for success in cancer circles. The idea of wrestling another cancer?
Repugnant. Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t do it if necessary, but she hoped and prayed it wouldn’t be.
I must be missing the spot where prayer came into this, her conscience scolded again. Was I sleeping, perchance?
Lisa ignored the internal reprimand because she heard it way too often. Sure, she sang in the choir, lifting her voice in sweet notes of praise. Externally she looked good. Faithful. Invested.
Internally?
She was a mob of questions with few answers.
She called Alex’s Saturday sitter, discovered the kids were at the Michaels’s house down the road, and called her second cousin Alyssa. “Hey, it’s Lisa. Can I spring Emma from your care later today? We’re doing a garden project together and I’ve arranged for the Weed Stealers to help us, but it’s a no-go if Emma’s not on hand.”
“And surprise Alex?” Alyssa asked. “Absolutely. He could use a few nice surprises. What time are you guys meeting?”
“Four. Can you have her walk down when you see my car?”
“Will do. And I’ll send the spare key in case anyone needs to get inside. And Lisa?”
“Yes?”
Her cousin’s note of approval came through loud and clear. “Thanks for what you’re doing.”
Lisa hoped and prayed it was the right thing. Alex liked control. She recognized that. Admired it, even. But in the finite world of northern gardening, plants thrived more readily when done in a specific time frame. And that was her expertise. “Let’s hope it’s the right thing. Alex isn’t accustomed to having people do things for him. Take charge.”
Alyssa laughed. “Right on both counts, I’d say. But this will give him a hint of small-town living at its best.”
“I hope so.”
Lisa hung up the phone, spent the afternoon working the sales lot and arrived at Alex’s home at three forty-five. She turned as an aging car drew up to the curb. An older woman climbed out, grabbed a pot and started up the drive.
* * *
“I brought supper.” Weed Stealer Evelyn Calhoun made the announcement in a voice more cheerful than it used to be. “And a helper.” Her quick smile indicated her granddaughter Sophie.
“Sophie!”
“Emma!”
Shouts of delight split the hot day as Emma raced down the street. Lisa shot Evelyn a smile of appreciation while Emma took Sophie on a weed tour. Evelyn replied by sweeping the unkempt garden plots a thoughtful look.
“Daunting?” She met Evelyn’s gaze as two more cars pulled up to the curb.
“Dot Ramsey had a knack for all this.” Evelyn took in the small beds marking the outside perimeters of the oversize lot and the ones framing the old brick colonial. “But when things get let go, it’s a mess, ain’t it? We should have taken this on last fall.”
“Evvie, you old bird, you were a crank last fall,” Twila griped good-naturedly as she approached them. “We wouldn’t have gotten you on your hands and knees pullin’ weeds here or anywhere else. And now just look at you.” Twila’s approving grin took the sting out of her teasing. “Totin’ supper and ready to get dirty. Aren’t you a wonder?”
Evelyn took the friendly ja
bs with a smile. “Amazing how nice you get when heaven draws close, isn’t it?” She smiled over her shoulder to Lisa and put the Crock-Pot in the kitchen. “And it was Meredith that sent the food. She’s at the spa all day and said Cam can throw burgers and hot dogs on the grill tonight instead.”
“She sent their supper over? How nice of her.” Her daughter-in-law’s simple act of kindness would perk up Alex’s elongated day.
“Sweet-and-sour chicken barbecue,” declared Evelyn. “Four ingredients, best ever and guaranteed to please a man. Not that anyone here—” she slanted a nonchalant look in Lisa’s direction “—is trying to impress a man. But Meredith saw how hard things were for Cam, raisin’ them girls on his own.”
Cam Calhoun had lost his wife early in their marriage. He’d been a single dad of two beautiful, athletic daughters for years, until Meredith came back to town to open a spa. Now they were happily married and the girls played great soccer and had really good haircuts.
“God’s got his own brand of timing, don’t he?”
Lisa choked back her true feelings, that God’s timing wasn’t all that high on her list. Not when she’d buried her mother five months back. Not when she worked to keep a smile on her face and shoulder extra work because her father’s grieving took precedence over hers. As it should, she reminded herself.
“You got us organized yet?”
“I do.” Lisa shook off the funk and refocused on the day. She paired up people and set them to work. As she did, another car pulled into the driveway.
“Grandma!” Emma raced across the lawn and gave Alex’s mother-in-law a hearty welcome.
Emma’s grandma looked around, puzzled, then walked toward Lisa, one arm snugged around Emma’s narrow shoulders. “What’s going on?” Her expression matched the concern in her voice. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” Lisa indicated the yard with a thrust of her chin. “Emma’s dad got tied up at work and we need to get the ground prepped for her gardening project. You have stumbled onto an emergency meeting of the Greater Allegany Weed Stealers Society.”
Nancy laughed out loud. “What a clever idea! May I join you?”
“All are welcome,” Lisa assured her. “Would you like to pair up with Emma and Sophie?”
“That would be perfect.”
Joy softened the longing in the older woman’s voice. Her little hesitation told Lisa she was uncertain of her role in the new family dynamic.
After fighting cancer and losing her mother, Lisa understood. Loss changed so many things. Her illness had thrust her no-nonsense side to even greater pragmatism. Losing her mother had pushed her to deeper sentimentality. Her regular chemo regimen messed up her hormones enough to inspire tears when there was no reason to cry. She defined “mixed emotions.”
Nancy had lost more than a daughter. The link with her grandchildren had thinned with Jenny’s death. Maybe with time and greater proximity, those ties could be strengthened again.
In less than two hours six adults and two little girls had the perimeter of the house ready for planting, while two other volunteers hand-weeded several of the smaller beds dotting the yard. “Take care on that one,” Lisa reminded her uncle Gary Langley as he attacked a crescent-shaped, stone-lined plot. “Beneath the quack grass and dandelions lies a lovely herb garden.”
“I’ll save what I can,” he promised. By six-thirty they had things in tip-top shape. Rakes, shovels and trowels were stowed for the next Weed Stealers gathering. The gathered adults had left. Not a trace remained of the impromptu meeting when Alex pulled into the yard at seven-twelve.
Lisa slung an arm around Emma’s shoulders and watched Alex alight from the car. Would their efforts gain approval?
“Whoa.”
Alex’s eyes swept the house and the yard. Puzzlement gave way to happiness. He strode forward and locked gazes with Lisa. “How did you manage this?”
Off-limits, off-limits, off-limits...
Obeying the internal scolding, she gave Emma a half hug and kept things simple. “We rallied the troops. Nice, huh?”
“Not nice. Amazing.” He bent and hugged Emma as Becky and Josh tumbled out of the car and marveled at the difference.
“We started a compost pile in the back,” Emma explained. She grasped Alex’s hand. “Come and see.”
He dropped his work case onto the steps and trotted toward the creek side of the house, Emma’s hand wrapped in his. The visual, father and daughter, running together... Lisa’s heart softened at the sweetness of the moving portrait, oblique rays and cooling temps creating a creek-spawned mist wrapped around thick, mature trees.
“Lisa, I love this!” Becky exclaimed. She twirled around, arms out, her over-the-top reaction embracing life. Just as it should, Lisa thought.
“I’m glad, honey.”
“Can I be here when we plant stuff?” Becky kept pace with Lisa as she packed her car with the last tools. “I want to learn, too.”
“If it’s all right with your father.” Lisa lifted a questioning gaze to Alex as he and Emma approached. “When we start planting next week, can Becky help?”
“As long as it’s okay with Emma.” Alex shifted his gaze to his oldest. “What do you think?”
“Yes. But I’m still in charge, okay?”
“Sure!” Becky’s face lit up. Eyes wide, she raced around the yard as if the clean flower beds opened a new perspective. Lisa understood her reaction. She’d loved helping her mother as a child, tackling jobs too big for her age. She saw that in Emma and Becky, but with differing applications. Emma loved the planning and development stages of the garden. Becky had the urge to get down and dirty, meeting the soil up close and personal.
A hand touched her face. Alex’s hand. He smoothed his thumb over the edge of her nose, then her ear. Humor and something else softened his gaze. “Dirt.”
She kept her smile nonchalant and stepped back. “Occupational hazard. I’ll see you guys next week.”
“Do you have to leave?”
A loaded question for sure. She didn’t need to leave. The garden store was closed and her father was having supper with Adam, Caro and little Rosie. The night was hers. But should she spend the evening with this handsome, humorous widower and his three engaging children or home with a book?
The book won. Immersing herself in fiction made more sense than dangling untouchable possibilities in front of her face. She met his gaze slowly, resigned. “Yes.”
“Sophie’s grandma brought supper.” Emma thrust the words into the void between the two adults. She grabbed Lisa’s hand. “She said there’s plenty for leftovers, so why don’t you stay and eat with us, Lisa?”
“Yeah, Lisa.” Alex squared his shoulders, leveled his gaze and held hers hostage. “The kids would love that. Me, too.”
His eyes said he meant the words, but—
“Lisa, Dad’s going to build me a tree house over there. Come and see!” Josh interrupted the weighted question by barreling into Lisa’s side like a small freight train.
“Whoa, buddy.” Alex squatted low. “We’ve got to be gentle with women. Remember?”
Josh tipped his gaze up to Lisa. “Sorry. Can you come with me? See where my dad wants to build it? Because you don’t want to plant flowers under a tree house. We might hurt them climbing up and down.”
“He’s got a point.” Alex caught her hand. “Stay for supper. Check out the kid’s tree-house plan. Relax with us a little. It’s the least I can do when you’ve—” his look swept the transformed yard “—done all this. Please?”
Awareness swept her. Warmth stole upward from her fingers as his strong grasp and big hand engulfed hers. He was holding her hand. Asking her to stay. Josh grabbed the other hand, a mini tug-of-war between father and son with her in the middle.
And it felt good. And right, even though i
t couldn’t ever be right.
“Ice cream.” Chagrined, Alex dropped her hand, dashed across the yard, whipped open the car door, grabbed out a bag, frowned, then sighed in relief. “Not melted. Excellent. If it had melted, I’d blame you.” He raised the bag toward Lisa as if displaying Exhibit One in a high-profile trial.
“Me? Why?”
“Because I tend to forget things when you’re around, Lisa.”
Oh, those words. That look. Soft. Engaging. But all man.
“Will you stay?” Becky added her plea to Josh’s entreaty. “We didn’t get to have any time with you, and Josh and I like being with you.”
Her words softened an old ache surrounding Lisa’s heart.
“And could you braid my hair later?” Becky implored. “Please? Dad’s hands are too big.”
Alex’s hands weren’t too big, thought Lisa. They were just right. Strong. Athletic. Broad. Gentle, but firm.
Alex hurried the ice cream inside, then reappeared in short order. “Something in there smells great.”
“Barbecued chicken,” Emma explained.
“Mrs. Calhoun brought rolls, too,” Lisa added, although it felt silly to talk about rolls and chicken when a part of her wanted to talk about everything else. Or nothing at all. “And potato salad.”
“So, you’ll stay.”
He didn’t ask this time. Lisa liked that hint of commander about him. He’d had enough indecision and was ready to move on.
So was she. “Yes. Come on, Josh.” She let the four-year-old lead her across the yard as fast as his legs would go. “Let’s see this tree.”
The smack of the screen door said Alex had gone back inside.
Barbecue. Ice cream. Hot sun, cool shade. Tipping shadows, slanting the yard with dancing light. Emma’s voice, excited, leading Alex around the house. Becky’s exclamations as they went. And Josh’s little hand clutched in hers as he led her to the aged oak that skimmed the east-side property line. Right now this felt about as perfect as life could get.
She knew better. She and Alex had learned the hard way that expectations could crash and burn. But here, in this moment, the sounds, scents and scenes of a family summer unfolded around her. And it felt better than she’d ever thought possible a few weeks before.
The Lawman's Second Chance Page 7