Caro smiled. “Will do. Although there’s patient and then there’s too patient. If you know what I mean.”
“Loud and clear.” He exchanged a grin with her. “Let’s just say the campaign has begun in earnest.”
“Good to hear.” She waved goodbye as she moved toward the house. “The house looks great, by the way.”
“How did—?”
“She hasn’t figured it out yet.” Caro turned and paused. She kept her voice low. “She thinks her friends chipped in, but I knew right off because only a guy who’s gone through the process understands how hard it is to pick up the pieces and move on. And Lisa’s had a lot of pieces to pick up the last few years.”
Alex recognized that. Emotional residual damage could be worse than surgical scars. “Sylvia did a good job?”
“Perfect.” She winked and waved again. “You did good, Alex.”
He hoped so. Where Lisa Fitzgerald was concerned, he wanted to do his best.
* * *
“They’ve all been picked up?” Lisa shot a smile to Caro as she entered the house, but there was no fooling her sister-in-law in matters of the heart.
“Stop being a scaredy-cat,” Caro bossed her. She clucked like an old hen, making Rosie laugh out loud. “Get back in the game. What have you got to lose?”
Should she tell her?
Lisa hesitated. She clenched her hands, then shrugged, uncertain.
Caro stepped closer. “What is it? What’s going on? Because don’t try to pretend with me, girlfriend. I’ve been around too long and I know you too well. Are you okay?”
“No.”
Caro’s face paled. Her eyes went round. Her jaw went lax, then firmed. “Explain.”
Lisa did. And it felt good to have someone to talk to, someone to confide in. She spilled her guts about the discomfort and the scheduled appointments.
Through it all Caro listened, a friend and a sister, nodding as needed. And when all was said and done, Caro zeroed in on the one thing Lisa hadn’t said. “You’re scared to put Alex and those kids through more illness and angst, aren’t you?”
There was no denying that. “Yes.”
“And afraid of dying.”
Lisa’s chin quivered. She stilled it, but not before Caro read her reaction. Her sister-in-law’s quick look of sympathy pushed Lisa to an emotional brink she’d been denying for weeks. “Terrified, actually. Which only shows what a coward I am. And a fake. Because true believers don’t fear death, right?”
“Oh, honey.” Caro hugged her, and the embrace felt good. Strong. Empathetic. “You know there’s a host of benign reasons that make women feel out-of-sorts.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve made all the right moves,” Caro went on. “You scheduled an appointment and they’re running tests. Do you remember how often we went through this the first eighteen months after your original diagnosis?”
Lisa remembered all right. “I do.”
“And those scares turned out to be...?”
“Nothing.”
“Stop borrowing trouble.” Caro made her point more stridently by pulling up a chair in front of Lisa, forcing her to make eye contact. “You’ll have your answers soon. So you can either spend that time worrying yourself sick over what is most likely nothing, or pull yourself together, stop being a ninny and put your trust in God. Whatever happens, we handle it, step by step. Right? And since when don’t you trust God’s timing? His strength?”
Lisa looked anywhere but at her, then shrugged, her gaze trained beyond the window. “I’m not the same person inside, Caro. I weigh everything now. See how it measures up. I pray, but I don’t really expect an answer because I’m not sure what to believe. What to trust. Every time I climb into that choir loft lately, I feel like a fraud.”
Caro accepted that with a slow nod. “It’s hard to say goodbye, isn’t it? To a husband...a mother...”
Lisa blinked back tears.
Caro’s face softened. “You are so much like your mother that it’s like she’s still around. Your actions, that ‘get it done’ attitude. But you’re like her in another way, too, and that’s hiding your feelings. You bottle things up, just like she did. Then they brew inside, a cauldron of emotion. But you’re so busy being stoic, you don’t notice.”
Did she do that? Yes. “I like being strong.”
Caro smiled. “You do it well. But there’s such a thing as too strong. Holding too much in. When I get so riled up inside I want to punch someone, I think of the twenty-seventh Psalm.”
A Psalm of trust, seeking protection. And—
“I love how the words first seek God’s help,” Caro continued, her voice soft. “But once he’s done asking for help...”
“He asks God’s shelter forever,” Lisa cut in. “To live with the Lord always.”
“And to wait on Him.” Caro touched Lisa’s arm. “Borrowing trouble is never good. You know that. But doubts happen to all of us. When they do?” She met Lisa’s gaze frankly. “We need to pray more. Cling harder. Because those doubts weigh down our days.”
Lisa recognized the simple truth in her words. Carrying grief and worry alone burdened more than her heart...it wore on her soul. She’d been so busy being strong for others, she forgot to be strong for herself. Strong enough to reach out. Lean on God. How had she missed such a simple but important lesson?
Caro’s commonsense profile of the situation was almost maddening, because Lisa knew she was right. “But I still need to keep Alex at bay. Until I know.”
Caro huffed a sigh of impatience, a pretty loud one. Slightly aggressive, even.
“Like you said.” Lisa met Caro’s gaze with intent. “It’s a matter of days. If everything turns out fine—”
“You’ll reengage the attraction ASAP, no holds barred? Because this guy is off-the-charts wonderful. The cute kids are just total bonus.”
“I will.” Lisa smiled at the thought. “He is something, isn’t he?”
“And then some,” Caro agreed. “If you’re looking to fall in love, he’s a keeper.”
“And if I’ve already fallen?” Lisa wondered out loud.
“Then Alex Steele will be a very happy man,” Caro declared. “Because I don’t think you’re in this alone.” She handed over the mail and prodded the envelope on top. “Check this out.”
“A gift certificate for a spa pedicure.” Lisa wiggled her toes, delighted. “From?”
Caro dipped her chin and smiled.
“Alex,” Lisa said.
“I’ve been sworn to secrecy.” Caro stood and stretched. “And all this drama makes me hungry. Except every time I eat, I wish I hadn’t.” She passed a hand over her still-flat abdomen.
“That’s a dilemma.”
“It will pass.” Caro scooped up Rosie, who immediately offered protest about being separated from her toys. “Hush, you. We need to get home, feed you, change you and fall into bed. Because Mama’s tired. And we’ve got a crazy week of packing, stowing, moving...”
“Thank you, Caro.”
Caro waved off the thanks. “That’s what we do, right? You and me? We take care of each other. I’ve got your back now.” She let her gaze drop to her belly. “And you’ll be at my beck and call in about six months, give or take.”
“The best Christmas present ever,” Lisa added.
Caro flashed a grin over her shoulder as she went through the back door. “I can’t disagree with that.”
Chapter Fourteen
He needed Lisa Fitzgerald, Alex decided once he’d gotten the kids off to school the following week.
She wasn’t his. He knew that.
But if determination won the day, she would be.
You’re willing to risk your children’s well-being? his conscience berat
ed him again. Shouldn’t they come first? Always?
Yes, Alex decided. But putting them first shouldn’t mean avoiding Lisa. Wasn’t life fraught with danger? And no one knew the day or the hour of God’s appointed time. He needed to think less and trust more. And wouldn’t the kids benefit from having a woman around, a special woman, capable of loving them, just as they were? Lisa was that kind of woman. Rare. Invaluable.
He rerouted his morning routine and swung by Seb Walker’s pastry shop, then took the scenic route to Fillmore, right by Lisa’s house.
He pulled around back, grabbed the string-tied white box and knocked lightly on the wooden screen door.
“Alex?”
Delight and surprise colored Lisa’s voice. She put a quick hand to her hair, total woman, wondering how she looked at 7:40 a.m.
He opened the screen door, thinking she looked marvelous. “A gift.”
She motioned him in as she accepted the box. “Anyone bearing food from Seb’s pastry case is welcome here.”
“Anyone?” Alex raised a brow. “So I’m not special?”
She blushed, which meant he was special.
He grinned. “I brought enough to share. Gotta go.”
“You can’t stay for coffee?”
He shook his head and tapped his watch. “Must work. But I wanted you to know I was thinking of you. I would have told you that over the phone, but you don’t always answer my calls.”
“Maybe I’m busy.”
He reached out a hand to cup her cheek. Feel the softness of her skin beneath the pads of his work-worn fingers. “Then we might have to learn to grab more free time, you and me. Together.”
Her smile said she’d like that, but something in her gaze whispered hesitation.
Which only meant he’d take more time. He cradled her cheek a few seconds longer, tapped her nose, grabbed a raspberry-and-cheese Danish and headed out the door. “I’ll see you tonight when I pick up the girls. And don’t duck out on me. You’re being silly.”
“You did bring me pastries.”
He turned and softened his bossy order with a wide grin. “A point-earner for sure. I’ll see you later?”
She faltered, then nodded. “Yes. I’ll give Caro time off and come out from under my rock. Promise.”
“Good. Although for a rock-dweller, you look mighty good in the morning, Lisa.”
His words elicited a soft smile, kissably sweet. Once again her hand went to her hair as if wishing for a comb. “You, too.”
A cell phone text from Sal Iuppa interrupted the moment. He pulled the phone out, held it up and backed out the door. “Gotta go.”
Her winsome smile made him long to stay. The text said he needed to confer with Sal at Jones Memorial Hospital on a new case. He jogged to the car, backed around and hit the gas, glad he’d taken the ten-minute initiative. The sight of Lisa, surprised and pleased by his small gesture, would brighten the rest of his day.
* * *
“Who was that?” Ozzie wondered when he came in to refill his coffee cup a few minutes later.
“Alex.” Lisa indicated the box on the table with a glance.
“He stopped at Seb’s?” Ozzie’s grin grew. “That family knows how to make a good impression,” he declared. “Cookies. Danishes. And really cute kids.”
Lisa couldn’t disagree. And seeing Alex that morning, dashing up the steps, box in hand...
She’d felt like an Austen heroine, with her very own Mr. Darcy. Strong, rugged, proud, fierce. But while Alex could be cast as Darcy, she could never be Elizabeth Bennett. Beautiful and accomplished, waiting to catch a rich man’s eye. She was a simple gardener, with dirt under her nails and a prosthetic chest.
“Oh, the newspaper called last night,” Ozzie continued, a Danish in one hand and fresh coffee in the other.
“Because?”
“They’re doing a story about your new breast cancer group and the Fourth of July parade.”
Mixed feelings pressed in.
She’d welcome the free advertising for the nonprofit group. Newspaper involvement was a great way to reach potential members. And if the newspaper did an article, the local television stations would probably follow suit. They’d done a great job of promoting her pink-ribbon garden center campaign, so this was great news for the breast cancer coalition.
But once again she’d be in the limelight of what Alex longed to forget. Her push for greater awareness became his Achilles’ heel and she had no idea how to counter that effect. “That’s great news, Dad.”
He pushed through the door, nodding. “They’ll call you later today. I gave them your cell number.”
“Thanks.”
“And we’ve got thunderstorms in the forecast.”
“How bad?” Thunderstorms were never a welcome thing with outdoor garden displays.
Her father shrugged. “Possibly bad, but who knows? They’re thunderstorms.”
“All right.” She grabbed a Danish and followed him, the bright morning sun making the prospect of late-day storms a non-issue. Seeing Alex, talking with him, starting the day off together... Even the darkest storm couldn’t take the shine off a beginning like that.
* * *
Two kids, approximate ages three and five, found wandering the gravel road leading out of the forest preserve in the dead of night.
Alex pulled into the parking lot of the E.R., flashed his badge, and moved to stand alongside Sal Iuppa and the initial responding trooper. The sight of the small children, dirt-smudged, scraped and bruised, wrenched his heart. His protective nature jumped into overdrive. The little girl’s hair, a mass of knots and tangles, made him regret every time he groaned while doing Becky’s hair. The boy, small and thin, was in desperate need of a bath and a diaper change. The girl wore ill-fitting sandals. The loose faux leather had rubbed raw spots along her insteps and toes. Tiny spots of blood marked the paper drape on the E.R. bed.
The boy, barefoot, had a gash on one foot that already looked septic. Did that mean they’d been on their own for days? Or had this happened before they wandered off?
“No reports of missing children?”
Sal’s low growl echoed Alex’s feelings. “None.”
“And they’re not school age,” Alex mused quietly.
“Not all folks send their kids to school, Lieutenant.”
He’d encountered that in the city where drugs prevailed, but here? In Heartland, America? Alex flexed a brow, inviting Sal to continue.
“Some people homeschool their kids to keep them out of harm’s way.”
Alex nodded. He had friends who homeschooled their kids successfully.
“And some do it to keep their kids from spilling what goes on at home. Teachers and social workers are mandated reporters.”
“Right.” Alex clenched then unclenched his jaw. Raw emotion rose up inside, a force that ran roughshod over him whenever kids were endangered or maligned. “Not so different from the city streets, then.” Anger snaked a path along his spine. He squared his shoulders, longing to fight on the children’s behalf. He’d tended young gunshot victims on the streets of Rochester and Buffalo. Had them die in his arms, twice. He’d watched small children be placed back with neglectful parents, mothers and fathers in biology only. He thought he’d left that behind when he moved here, his heart longing for a Mayberry-type existence.
Was he foolish to think that poverty and pestilence couldn’t hide in the mountains? Obviously so.
“Except—” Sal motioned him away from the small, curtained cubicle “—there’s so much space out here. In the city, folks can hide in plain sight and you might never know they’re there.”
Alex couldn’t argue because that happened all the time.
“Down here, there are miles and miles of hills. Gravel roads. Plac
es up-mountain and tucked in woods so deep it’s almost impossible to get to.”
“You think they might be from a family in the hills.”
“I think they’ve been on their own for a couple of days at least, that they’re probably one of the worst cases of neglect I’ve seen in years, and that whatever parents they have are probably high ninety-eight percent of the time. Or gone.”
“No life-threatening injuries?”
Sal shook his head. “A camper saw them. Thought it was a bear coming through the woods, then heard the little guy crying.”
“Thank God.”
Sal nodded, his lips thinned. “Amen. The county will be here soon to get them. In the meantime, we’ve got to figure out who they are.”
“And meet the parents.”
Sal turned more fully. “Every time I see neglect like this, I want to teach the parents a lesson personally. But then I look at the parents.” He paused. Shrugged. “Usually they’re so cranked crazy that I almost feel sorry for them. And I don’t feel sorry for too many people, Lieutenant.”
Alex didn’t doubt that for a minute, but he understood Sal’s reasoning. Addictions were hard to overcome. He’d witnessed that time and again in Troop E. He thought with fewer people, things would be better in the hills.
They weren’t better. Just more spread out. “You tried talking to them?”
Sal grimaced. “And got nowhere. I figured a little time and TLC might soften things. The little guy doesn’t seem too verbal, and the older one appears to have taken a vow of silence.”
That wasn’t a huge surprise to Alex. A lot of kids would do whatever seemed necessary to protect their parents from the law. He nodded, accepting Sal’s decision to wait. “Shall we head back to where they were found?”
“Yes.” Sal stared a few seconds longer, as if memorizing the scene. Hospital personnel, voices soft, hands gentle. The whirring click of machines droning background noise, intrinsic to health care. The little boy’s look of abject fear, eyes wide, his longish hair blocking one eye.
The girl sat straighter. Taller. The protector. Her status shone in her determined demeanor, but her eyes...
The Lawman's Second Chance Page 17