Finding the Road Home

by Tina Radcliffe

  Her chest tightened at his words. Mitch didn’t get it. There was no way she could make him understand that he had to let go of everything once and for all. She released a pained breath and stood, holding her shaking hands together. “Are we done?”

  “Yes.”

  Daisy felt no satisfaction when she walked out of the office and hung her keys on the hook. Struggling to remain calm, she sat down at the desk next to Henna’s and typed up a letter of resignation on the computer. She hit print and signed it. Then she removed her badge and her security card and placed everything on Henna’s desk along with her service weapon.

  “Give that to the chief, please.” Her hand still trembled as she offered the paper.

  “Daisy,” Henna whispered, her voice anguished. “No. Please.”

  “Henna, it’s not about today. Today was a train wreck that’s been waiting to happen for twelve weeks. You know it, and I know it.” Daisy nodded toward the back room. “I have clothes in my locker. I’ll leave my uniform on the table.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to pick up paint at the hardware store.”

  An hour later, Daisy sat in the dark bakery looking out at the world and wondering how she got to this place. She was the mother of five, in love with a man who didn’t have room in his heart for her or her family, because his past had hijacked all the space.

  Daisy glanced around the shop. Cans of paint were stacked on top of a drop cloth, along with paint trays, rollers and brushes. A ladder leaned against the wall. This should be a happy day. She was about to put into motion what she’d dreamed of for a very long time. Instead, morose was the only word that described her current mood.

  The irony was that Mitch was probably right, although today she wouldn’t admit it.

  She should have waited for backup today. Why didn’t she?

  Maybe she felt she had something to prove. Her pride had stood between her and making the right decision. Both she and Mitch were wrong, and that left them at the end of the day with nothing.

  The other ugly truth was that Deb’s kids had been through enough. All she really wanted was to provide a future for them. A future where they could forget their painful memories and simply be kids.

  Sure, every day was a risk. There were no guarantees, but at the very least she could get into a line of work that was not on the list of the top ten most dangerous job sectors.

  She wasn’t locked into law enforcement. For her, it was only a job. A job she’d held as a tribute to her father. Leaving the uniform behind was her decision to make. Not Mitch’s.

  Did she have the courage to follow through and open the bakery full time? There wasn’t a choice anymore. She closed her eyes and said a prayer of thanks, and then pulled out her phone and called her favorite chef. “Luna, I want to negotiate the lease on the bakery. I’m going to open it full time. I’m thinking about an option to buy the building. Call me when you get this message.”

  Daisy ended the call and stood. The shop wasn’t going to paint itself, and the walls didn’t care that she had a broken heart.

  * * *

  “Chief?”

  “Yeah?” Mitch looked up at Henna from the stack of paperwork.

  “Good news.” She slid an envelope on his desk. “The check from the county arrived today. We have the funding.”

  Mitch glanced at the envelope. “Kind of fast, isn’t it?”

  “Will said there was no competition. Oh, and the county wants to do an official opening of the community center on Labor Day so they can coordinate press coverage and all.”

  “Let the mayor handle that.” He couldn’t work up enthusiasm. Twelve weeks later and none of it mattered anymore if he couldn’t celebrate this victory with Daisy and her children.

  When he looked up, Henna still stood at his desk. Right behind her, Roscoe leaned against the doorjamb wearing a scowl along with his neon-blue short cast.

  Henna cleared her throat. “You should see this.” She handed him a piece of paper.

  Mitch skimmed the letter, knowing what was coming, yet his stomach was still queasy by the time he finished.

  “She quit,” Henna said. “What are we going to do about it?”

  “Officer Anderson and I had a difference of opinion on departmental regs.” Mitch paused. “Nothing to do about it.”

  Roscoe stepped closer. “I’ve kept my mouth shut around here lately, and you know that ain’t easy. But I’m telling you, Mitch, time flies and before you know it you’re my age. The good news is that there are some long moments. This is one of them. It’s going to determine the rest of your life.”

  “Cut to the chase, McFarland.”

  “Don’t let it end like this. Go talk to her.” Roscoe paused. “This ain’t just about the job, boss. You know it and I know it.”

  Mitch took a deep breath and ran a hand over his jaw. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Chief,” Henna began.

  Mitch held up a hand. “It’s after five on a Friday, and I can’t afford to pay overtime. Go home. Both of you. Have a good weekend.”

  When he heard the door close twice, and he knew they were gone, Mitch got up from his desk and paced back and forth. For the last two hours, he’d been trying to get paperwork done and failing miserably. Daisy would be at the bakery where he was supposed to be painting her walls after work today.

  He turned out the lights and slipped out the back door. It took another five minutes of mental battles for him to put the key in the ignition of his truck and head down the street to the bakery. The sky was dark overhead, and moisture spit from the clouds when he got out of the pickup. He kept walking, his steps as heavy as his heart. With each footfall, he was reminded of what he’d done. Pushed away the best thing that ever happened to him.

  For several moments he stood outside the bakery beneath the cover of the overhang, looking in as rain began to fall. Daisy sat on the floor with her back to him, carefully painting the trim.

  Thunder rocked the air followed seconds later by a lightning arc overhead. Startled, she dropped the brush. Then she straightened and turned, and her eyes met his through the glass.

  Mitch opened the door, and the chimes laughed at him. “I thought I was going to paint,” he said.

  “Not necessary.” The words were curt and detached. She faced the wall again, carefully wiping off a splash of paint caused by dropping the brush.

  “You quit the PD because of my high-handedness?” The words were out there before he could find a better way to open the discussion.

  Daisy got to her feet. She wiped her hands on a rag, and then faced him with weary eyes.

  “The sad truth is that I think I’m in love with you.”

  Hot pain sliced through him at her words. Daisy loved him, and he’d destroyed everything.

  “Unfortunately,” she continued, “I want... I need what you can’t give me. Someone who is willing to let me fall but will be there to pick me up when—and if—I ask him to. Not a man who’s going to spend all his time worrying and trying to protect me from the world. That isn’t living. For either of us.”

  He drew a shaky breath. “Daisy, I can’t help it if I worry.”

  Seconds ticked by as she seemed to consider his words.

  “Mitch, you can’t bring back your mom or Levi. And you can’t control everything around you. Bad stuff is still going to happen. The thing is, this world is a better place because of you, only you don’t know that. You’re blinded by the past and your fears. It’s more than time to turn things over to the Lord. You get to have a life.”

  Daisy was silent for a moment. “You know,” she said softly, “I wanted to believe that somehow, with all the chaos in our lives, you and I were on the way to carving out a niche of our own and that maybe somewhere down the line, we might have a future together.”

 
She closed her eyes and opened them, and he’d never seen her look so miserable.

  “Today I realized that nothing has changed in twelve weeks. You still have a tight grip on everything. There’s no place for me or the kids in your world the way it is. Maybe if you get rid of some of the stuff that doesn’t belong to you, you’ll have room for us.”

  “You’re wrong, Daisy.” He murmured the words knowing they were too little. Too late.

  Mitch walked away, the deep ache in his chest overwhelming. He got in his truck, gripped the steering wheel and headed to Rebel Ranch. Reece would understand. His brother didn’t have a life either. And maybe they’d talk a bit more about working full time at Rebel Ranch. After today, that was an option that was looking better all the time. He’d given Rebel PD his best years. He could walk away with his head high.

  As he drove, he replayed what Daisy had said over and over in his head. The pain in her eyes. He’d done that. Again.

  How could he let go? He flat didn’t know how. Maybe it was time to get some counseling. Talk to Pastor Tuttle. He never thought he was the kind of guy who’d sit on a couch and spew his guts, but he’d do whatever it took to fix what was broken. Whatever it took for a second chance with Daisy and the kids.

  From the corner of his eye, Mitch noted a sudden movement along the side of the road. Though the late afternoon was shrouded in darkness from the rain, he could see the shape of an animal.

  Deer.

  There were two. A doe and her fawn. The animals lurched into the road. Mitch turned the wheel hard to avoid making contact.

  A sudden violent lurching of the truck took him completely off guard. Above the din of the rain, he heard a whoosh of air, followed by a flap-flap-flap sound.

  Panic shot from his stomach to his ears as realization struck.

  He’d blown a tire. The front right tire.

  The car jerked with swift ferocity, squealing as it hydroplaned across the rain-slick road.

  White-knuckled on the steering wheel, he attempted to control the vehicle by turning into the skid as it veered toward the shoulder. The truck slid sideways, then swerved into a crazed spinout as though he wasn’t steering. He struggled to keep the pickup out of the ditch, and came directly into contact with a tree. The airbags deployed, then the truck spun sideways only to hit something. The grinding sound of metal against metal filled the air. Then everything was silent except the drumming of rain against the truck.

  Mitch sat still for a moment, dazed from the impact. Then he evaluated himself from head to toe for injuries. His nose was tender but not bleeding. Probably a minor fracture or bruising. He pulled his cell from his pocket only to drop it between the seats. Working his hand past the seat belt retractor, he unlatched the seat belt. Then he grabbed the cell with two fingers, lifted it out of the seat well and punched in 911.

  “Chief Mitch Rainbolt. Rebel Police Department. I’m on Country Road 1803 outside Rebel. I’ve hit a tree. No, I’ll live. Just send a car and a tow truck.” He listened to the dispatcher repeat his information. “No. I don’t need an ambulance.”

  Mitch struggled to open his door without success. He leaned back against the headrest and grimaced. There was a whopper of a headache coming on, and his chest hurt from the impact with the airbags.

  Levi lost his life in a car accident. So had Daisy’s sister and brother-in-law. But he was relatively unscathed. He tried to make sense of that, and kept circling back to the fact that he’d been given a second chance. Somehow, someway, his life had been preserved today, and he’d been handed a do-over. All he could think about as his head and nose throbbed was Daisy and the kids. He had to find a way to make things right with Daisy.

  The sound of rain pounding on his truck continued to a steady beat as thoughts tumbled through his mind. He was alive, and he wanted to count the freckles scattered across Daisy’s face and tell her he was so very sorry. That wasn’t going to happen until he made things right.

  On the tail of a crack of lightning that flashed through the sky, the passenger door opened and Roscoe stuck his head inside. Rain and wind snuck into the truck around him.

  “Mitch? That you?”

  “Roscoe?” He was more than relieved to see the familiar craggy face and bald head. “What are you doing out there?”

  “I was on my way to the ranch to pick up Luna. She’s got a Shepherd’s pie and homemade biscuits waiting for me. Imagine my surprise when I saw your truck.”

  “Glad you stopped.”

  “Me too.” Roscoe moved a flashlight around the car, illuminating the cracked windshield and the interior. As the beam flashed on the glass, Mitch could see branches from a tree jammed into his windshield wipers at odd angles.

  He’d seen plenty of car accidents in his day, and had become jaded about them. Today, however, was a wake-up call. This could have ended badly.

  Roscoe assessed him with his flashlight, stopping briefly on his face.

  “I’m fine,” Mitch said.

  “Your nose is starting to swell. You’re gonna have some shiners by morning.”

  “I said I’m fine.”

  “And I’m calling an ambulance.”

  “No.”

  “Sorry, Chief. The regs say I call, and I know how you feel about those regs and following protocol.”

  “Great, I’ve been rescued by a guy with ‘I told you so’ tattooed on his forehead.”

  “Funny how that works, huh?” Roscoe chuckled “So you gonna tell me what happened?”

  “A doe ran into the road. I blew a tire and lost control.” He squinted out his window and into the night. “It looks like I went off the road and into a tree, and then the guardrail stopped me from sliding into a ditch.”

  “You’re taking a beating from women today, ain’t ya?”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “In my experience, you’re doing something wrong when you keep getting run over. Might want to think about that.”

  Mitch gritted his teeth at the sage advice but said nothing. That Roscoe was right was an understatement.

  “Be right back.” Roscoe closed the door and moved around the outside of the vehicle with his flashlight. The bright beam traveled slowly, distorted in the rain, probing the situation, before Roscoe opened the door again. His bald scalp was shiny with moisture.

  “Boss, that guardrail probably saved your life. Best I can tell, you hit a tree, then slid into the rail exactly like you said. There’s a nice little drop-off you came real close to over there. If your car hadn’t settled against that rail, it would have tumbled right off.”

  Mitch froze at the words, realizing how very close he’d been to disaster. He met Roscoe’s concerned gaze. “Why don’t you see if you can open my door so I can get out?”

  “Oh, no. No way. The guardrail is all bent over there, and practically fused to your door. Besides, it’s knee-deep mud. Why, I’d probably slide right over the edge myself.”

  “Terrific.”

  Roscoe wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I called the fire department. They’ll be here in a jiffy to pry you out.”

  “I’m going to make The Rebel Weekly, aren’t I?” In one swift turn of events, his pride and his ego had been smashed. Mitch admitted he deserved the dress down; he just hadn’t expected it to arrive so quickly on the heels of his mess up with Daisy.

  “You’re probably right about the newspaper. Don’t see any way around that,” Roscoe said. “Think positive. You saved the deer. You’re a hero.”

  “Yeah, that’s not exactly encouraging.”

  “I hear sirens. Should have you out of here soon.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “Thanks, Roscoe. Sorry about the biscuits and all.”

  “No problem. You’d have done the same for me, right?”

  “Yeah, I would. Anytime.”

  They were silent as the
sounds of sirens got closer and closer.

  “Not to go all spiritual on you,” Roscoe said, “but sure seems to me like the good Lord was watching over you tonight. You’ve had a lousy day from start to finish. It could have been a whole lot worse.”

  Mitch couldn’t deny the words. His greatest fears had come to pass today, and yet here he was sitting in the rain with Roscoe on a Friday night. His car was totaled, and he wasn’t. Now all he had to do was tell Daisy he was wrong, and pray she was feeling generous about forgiving his sorry self.

  Chapter Eleven

  Daisy didn’t have any problem finding Mitch’s room at the Lakeview Hospital. She heard him bellowing the moment she got off the elevator. His lungs were in excellent condition. That was a good sign. She picked up her pace, nearly tripping over her own feet in her rush to see for herself.

  Last night was one of the longest of her life, as she found herself on her knees praying that Mitch would be all right after she got the call from Roscoe.

  She arrived at his doorway in time to see him sitting in a hospital bed and going toe-to-toe with a petite nurse who refused to stand down. His hair was mussed, and he looked like he had two black eyes. Daisy’s heart did its usual flutter, the one she’d stopped fighting. For the rest of her life, her heart was going to dance when Mitch was near. Time to get used to it.

  Mitch’s eyes rounded, and he stopped talking when he saw Daisy.

  “I see you have a guest, Mr. Rainbolt,” his nurse said. “We’ll be back shortly to take your blood pressure again. The doctor will not release you until he’s certain everything is normal.”

  “I haven’t been normal a day in my life,” he muttered.

  “I guess you’re feeling better,” Daisy said, knowing that a cranky Mitch was a wonderful thing.

  “I hate hospitals.” He offered a grimace of annoyance. “Ever notice how everything is ‘we’ when it’s really not?”

  She tried not to smile. “I talked to Reece, and he said you’re going to be okay.”