Support Your Local Sheriff

by Melinda Curtis

There was too much at stake. Her reputation, for one.

  Yes, she’d pass. She’d push herself through it the same way she’d pushed herself through competing against boys in baseball and men at the police academy, the same way she’d proven she could do anything a man could do on the police force. She’d set the goal in front of her and work for it one step at a time. She wouldn’t question.

  Her nightly dreams made her question. The nightmares made her doubt. All those questions and doubts turned her stomach.

  I have to pass.

  She imagined herself back on the force. She imagined the look of respect in her commander’s eyes. And while she was visualizing success, she imagined herself having a good night’s sleep.

  A short time later, Julie pushed the stroller up and down Main Street, checking out the businesses and the bakery. That didn’t take long. Main Street had become something of a ghost town since Nate had been called away. She let Duke run off his sugar high on the grass in the town square, while she rested on the bench under the oak tree.

  A petite blonde wearing a cute fuzzy pink jacket pushed her stroller across the road toward them. Her toddler had the same wild blond curls as her mother, but wore pink leggings and sparkly tennis shoes instead of blue jeans and boots.

  The woman waved. She was about Julie’s age and had an infectious smile. “Now that the fog’s burned off, isn’t the view of Parish Hill beautiful? It’s so clear, you can see the granite face.” She pointed to the eastern skyline.

  Julie’d had a glimpse of it before, through the fog. Now the mountain that rose above the treetops was strong and sturdy.

  Like me. Like I used to be.

  Julie needed to stop talking to herself.

  “Do you want to come to the play park with us?” the blonde asked, stopping at the corner.

  Duke slammed into Julie’s legs, wrapping his arms around them. “Ye-es!”

  Julie was up for any activity that tired her nephew out. She strapped him in the stroller and joined the pair, walking behind them on the sidewalk.

  “I’m Shelby,” the woman said over her shoulder, keeping up a pace designed to burn calories and kill Julie. “And this is Mae.”

  Julie reciprocated the introductions.

  Little Mae leaned around her stroller to sneak shy glances at Duke. Typical boy, Duke was drinking from his sippy cup and pretending to ignore her.

  “Mae...” Julie cast about her memory for why the name rang a bell. “Isn’t there a boutique on Main Street called Mae something?”

  “Yes. Mae’s Pretty Things.” Shelby reached down and fluffed Mae’s blond curls. “Mae used to own the dress shop in town. She died a little over two years ago. I was close to her before she passed.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It happens to all of us,” Shelby said in the resigned voice people used when the elderly passed away. She’d probably never lost anyone her own age.

  Julie’s wound tingled with each dragging step.

  “I had to take the day off because my caregiver needed to go into Santa Rosa.” Shelby grinned over her shoulder. “Truthfully, I don’t mind a day off. Time goes by so quickly with kids. It seems like yesterday Mae was a baby.” Shelby marched on, boots ringing on pavement, heedless of the fact her speed was draining Julie. “There’s going to be a legion of toddlers at the play park, since most of us share the same sitter and most of us—although we love our babies—need to run down their batteries before lunch so we get a good naptime.”

  Amen, sister.

  “Mama, want pay. Mae want pay.” Mae smiled coquettishly at Duke. “Boy want pay?”

  Three-word sentences. Other than “No mad words,” Duke only spoke in two-word sentences.

  Mom Jealousy lifted Julie’s feet with renewed vigor. She had to keep pace with Shelby and Duke had to keep pace with Mae.

  Unbidden, a memory of April resurfaced.

  “Come on, Duke,” Julie encouraged, down on all fours with her nephew at one of those mommy-and-baby classes. “Crawl. You can do it. That kid over there is crawling and he’s younger than you are.”

  “Take a breath, Aunt Julie,” April said from her chair nearby. She’d been too tired to participate. She wore a knit cap to hide her baldness and a benevolent smile. “Kids develop at their own pace.”

  “He just needs encouragement.” Julie moved one of Duke’s fat fists forward.

  Duke collapsed on the mat, rolled onto his back and gave her a drooly grin.

  “Enjoy him the way he is today,” April said with the wisdom of one who’d studied child development in college. “Otherwise you’ll view every mom out there as competition. Mom Jealousy will eat you alive.”

  Little Mae repeated her question. “Boy want pay?”

  Duke remained silent, playing hard to get. Typical man.

  Julie had to prompt him. “Duke, do you want to play?”

  He nodded, a man of few words like his father.

  They turned a corner and spotted the playground. The legion turned out to be five toddlers of varying shapes and sizes.

  “Kids!” Duke tried to get out of the stroller, but the lap belt held him back. “Juju.”

  “Just a minute. We’re not there yet.”

  Julie was sweating by the time they reached the playground. It was part of the schoolyard, but looked like new with short slides and low towers to climb on. The ground was covered with plastic bark and everything was painted in bright primary colors—red, yellow, blue, green. It was as colorful as El Rosal.

  “Are you visiting or moving here?” Shelby parked her stroller near a bench outside the gate, setting the brake.

  “Visiting.” Julie declined to say who. She freed Duke.

  Duke hugged Julie’s leg, and then ran to Mae and hugged her. “Fend. Kids.” He moved with the exaggerated form of a racewalker to the playground entry—elbows up, booty waddling.

  Shelby followed Mae and Duke. Julie hesitated. The only bench was outside the small playground. She should go inside, but she needed the rest. She took a seat. After all, there were six moms inside. Better to sit now than collapse later.

  Thirty minutes passed and a blue truck with a star on the door pulled up to the curb. Nate hopped out. He looked like any other dad in the world, if you discounted the military precision with which he moved, the lack of a soft dad body and the way his appearance made Julie’s heart beat faster. If only because she was nervous about the papers she wanted him to sign.

  The moms greeted Nate by name. Many of the kids waved.

  Mr. Popularity had arrived.

  Julie gritted her teeth. Nate didn’t want kids. He shouldn’t be so popular with the toddler set.

  Nate came to stand next to her. “When you’re done here, we can start your test. I suggest we do it at the jail. Less chance of an unwanted audience.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and gave a curt nod, indulging in a little self-pity. None of her revenge dreams were coming true.

  “What do I need? A pencil? A calculator?”

  “A heart?” She refused to look at him.

  “Got one of those,” he said, adding less cheerfully and in a voice only she could hear, “Battered and bruised though it might be.”

  “Somewhere, a cricket is playing a violin,” she deadpanned. Like he’d ever had his heart broken.

  He stared down at her, that half grin on his face. But this time it was the more open version he’d flashed at Terrance. “I’ve missed you, Jules.”

  “The feeling isn’t mutual.” He would not get inside her head...or her heart.

  “Nay!” Duke ran over and pressed his body against the fence as if giving Nate a hug. “Me pay.” He pointed to the other children moving about the playground. “Me fends.”

  “You’re playing with fri
ends? That is so cool.”

  Julie envied his easy way with Duke. Of course, he didn’t worry if Duke was talking appropriately for his age. Or eating right. Or sleeping enough.

  Nate left her and went through the gate. “Who wants a helicopter ride?” Immediately, he was swamped by children smiling and raising their hands, begging to be picked up.

  Nate put them in a line—no small feat as forming a line of toddlers was more like herding chickens. And then he began to pick them up by their wrists, whirling them around until their feet flew high above the ground and they squealed with delight.

  Shelby leaned against the fence near Julie. “Nate is great with kids. I mean, he rarely talks until he gets around them. And then he’s a chatterbox.” Shelby’s tone turned curious, her gaze speculative. “Are you dating?”

  “No. We used to work together.” It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “I was wondering if he’d finally get to use the wedding dress Mae left him,” Shelby said slyly. “Has he shown it to you?”

  “No,” Julie choked out, not wanting to know about Nate’s wedding dress or why he’d have one. “We’re not that close.”

  “I was only wondering because my grandfather said Nate’s girlfriend was in town.” Shelby gave a small laugh. “I guess he meant Nate’s girl friend. You should ask to see it anyway. Mae would appreciate it being shown off.” Shelby’s smile softened. “She knew how to match a dress with the right woman.”

  Nate finished giving rides. Toddlers were dropping like flies—sitting in the bark, lying in the bark, stumbling to their mothers and begging to be picked up. They were all worn-out. All that is, except Duke. He climbed the short ladder to the slide, while other moms led their kids to the gate.

  Nate returned to her side. “I’ve got to make my rounds. Come to the jail after lunch.”

  A few of the moms hugged Nate goodbye, as if he was a noble knight in shining armor. He’d sold them a bill of goods.

  Julie refused to be sold again. In fact, she felt a sudden urge to run for sheriff.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “JUST TAKE ME HOME.” Rutgar sat in Flynn’s big black truck parked in front of the sheriff’s office, covering his eyes with one hand. The edge of his red cupcake pillow was visible behind his back, and his right ankle was swollen and taped.

  “What’s up?” Nate stood at Flynn’s open passenger door, having received an SOS call from his friend a few minutes ago, asking him for help with Rutgar, but offering no specifics.

  It was after lunch. Nate was expecting Julie and Duke anytime. He felt jittery, like he’d had too much caffeine. He blamed it on the Daddy Test. April may have created it, but it gave Julie too much pleasure. There had to be a catch in there somewhere. A trick Julie would relish pulling from her sleeve.

  “The doctor said Rutgar has a mild concussion and a slightly sprained ankle.” Flynn had the twitchy look of a dad who’d received a desperate call from his wife. His reddish-brown hair stood on end above his forehead. “Rutgar needs darkness and twenty-four-hour observation. Unfortunately, Ian’s been colicky since I left. If I take Rutgar home with me, the old man won’t get any rest.”

  “The old man will walk home, thank you very much, no matter where you put me.” Rutgar’s words lacked conviction given his ankle was swollen and he couldn’t open his eyes.

  Flynn leaned over the steering wheel to make eye contact with Nate. “We could get him a room at Leona’s.”

  “Leona?” Rutgar howled. “Just shoot me now. Better yet. Lend me your gun, Sheriff. It’s time to end it.”

  “Sadly...” Nate felt a smile work its way up one cheek. “I don’t think I have any bullets.”

  “What kind of sheriff are you?” Rutgar’s voice rumbled though the air like a train on a straight stretch of track.

  “The worst kind. The kind who cares.” Nate probably enjoyed teasing Rutgar too much, but normally the big man could take it. Most people in Harmony Valley were good sports and Nate enjoyed interacting with them since he didn’t speak to his own parents. “If you’re good, you’ll get ice cream later.” Maybe he could use that to entice Julie to bring Duke over.

  “I knew I brought him to the right place.” Flynn joined in on the fun.

  “The jail is the right place to put me?” Rutgar tried to glare through his fingers, but almost immediately shut his eyes tight. “Rock-hard cots. Drafty cells. Bad food.”

  Flynn grinned. “Why do I get the feeling he’s been in jail before?”

  A breeze tickled the new leaves on the trees flanking Nate’s office as if they, too, were enjoying a laugh at Rutgar’s expense.

  “I tell you what.” Nate took pity on the big man. “You stay in jail for observation and I won’t make you wear an orange jumpsuit. And I’ll get you coffee and scones in the morning from Martin’s Bakery.” If Terrance got lonely tonight, he’d have to share the cell with Rutgar.

  “Everybody wants to be a comedian.” But Rutgar shifted in his seat. “Lead me to this paradise of which you speak so highly.”

  “Need any help?” Shelby backed a stroller out of the winery’s barrel storage facility next door. In the fall after harvest, the entire street smelled like red wine.

  Little Mae watched them with sleepy eyes from her stroller.

  “Can you open the door to the office, Shelby?” Nate guided Rutgar’s feet toward the wide running board. “And then the door to the jail cell. This big guy has a concussion and needs a night of monitoring.”

  “The horror.” Rutgar made a growling noise. “A man of my age reduced to a night in the slammer.”

  “Rutgar.” Flynn’s tone was borderline angry. He pushed his door open. “My wife has been alone with a crying newborn since breakfast. Let’s not overdramatize. I need to get home.”

  “Everybody, take a breath,” Nate said, and then encouraged Rutgar to extend his good foot another few inches.

  Squinting, Rutgar tried to look down. He groaned. “Can’t. I’ll be sick.”

  “Not in my truck.” Flynn stopped a safe distance from Nate.

  “Not on me,” Nate added. “Close your eyes. Breathe. Think of the clean taste of apple.”

  Flynn targeted Nate with a questioning look.

  “How can I think of an apple when you told me about ice cream?” Rutgar scooted another inch toward the edge of his seat. “I hope you have chocolate.”

  “Ginger ale is better for upset tummies.” Shelby opened the front door. “I’m going to pull down the blinds so it’ll be dark in here.”

  “Good idea.” Nate talked Rutgar through getting his good foot to the ground. “This is where a squad car would come in handy.” Lower to the ground. “Or a stretcher. You’re going to have to lean on us to get inside.” The crutches in the truck bed weren’t an option if Rutgar couldn’t open his eyes.

  “I’m going to put your ugly mugs on my cans at my shooting range,” Rutgar grumbled, sliding slowly to the ground.

  Flynn drew Rutgar’s arm over his shoulders. “That’s the thanks I get for taking you to the doctor.”

  “That’s the thanks I get for taking him into my home.” Nate did the same.

  Rutgar hobbled along at a good clip, leaning heavily on the two men. “Who loves people and makes a home over a jail?”

  “Who loves people and lives alone on top of a mountain?” Nate countered.

  “I don’t love people.” Rutgar scoffed. “People are annoying. Don’t get many visitors on the mountain.”

  Not with that no-trespassing sign. “And I don’t get many visitors to my jail.”

  They passed through the doorway and guided him to the jail cell bed. Once he was seated, Nate lifted the old man’s legs onto the cot.

  When Rutgar caught his breath, he said, “Ooh. Made it.”

  Shelby covered hi
m with a blanket she’d found folded on the nearby bench. “I better go,” she whispered, pointing to little Mae, who’d fallen asleep in her stroller.

  “My pillow,” Rutgar said in near panicky tones. “Where is it? It helps my back.”

  “I’ll get it,” Flynn said, following Shelby out.

  Doris appeared in the open doorway, her voice a shrill shout. “Why are the shades drawn? I can’t see in. What’s happening here?”

  “That voice is torture.” Rutgar covered his ears. “Shut up.”

  Doris huffed, but didn’t leave.

  Nate came to stand behind the counter, putting him in the position of authority. “Rutgar’s got a concussion and needs darkness and quiet. He doesn’t have anyone to monitor his condition, so Flynn brought him here.” That’s right. He was throwing Flynn under the bus.

  Rutgar moaned, totally overplaying it, which Nate appreciated.

  “What if you need the jail cell?” Doris was nothing if not persistent. She carried a purse big enough to fit the head of any adversary she defeated. It was tan and had a Chihuahua appliquéd on it.

  “I need the jail cell for Rutgar,” Nate said evenly, struck by the sudden impression that Doris was a worst-case scenario thinker. Was it anxiety that drove her to try and control her surroundings?

  Flynn—the coward—hovered on the safety of the sidewalk, checking his phone.

  “This isn’t a hotel.” Doris’s entire body trembled as she drew herself up. “What if you need that cell for a criminal?”

  Nate could only think of one person in Harmony Valley he wanted to throw in jail. She was short and loved little dogs. He slid his glance away from her and chose his words carefully. “I’ve only arrested one person in three years.”

  “My point exactly.” Doris slung her dog purse higher on her shoulder. “The people’s tax dollars haven’t been put to good use.”

  “Or we haven’t had any criminals in town,” Nate pointed out.

  She harrumphed. “A likely story.”

  “The doctor prescribed peace and quiet,” Rutgar rumbled. “I’ll gladly commit a crime if that will make Doris leave.”