By the time all was said and done, one man had died and five were taken to the local hospital for treatment. The late hour and frigid darkness grabbed Seth as he traded the squad cruiser for his SUV at the sheriff’s office. He hit his Bluetooth connection once his car had defrosted, and called his mother. “Hey, I’m on my way to pick up Tori. Can you have her ready to go? I’m beat.”
A short hesitation sent prickles down his back. “I don’t have Tori, Seth.”
The prickles turned to knifepoint awareness. “What do you mean? I texted you this afternoon because Luke and I were on that ice-water rescue. Mom, you’re kidding right? And it’s not funny, by the way.”
“I’m not kidding. I never got your text, and I haven’t heard a thing from the wraparound-care people, and I’m your backup pickup person. Why wouldn’t they have called me?” Dismay deepened his mother’s voice. “I’m heading to your house now. Maybe she just went home. We know she isn’t fond of the after-school program.”
Fear didn’t sneak up Seth’s spine. It claimed him from within—gut-wrenching, mind-numbing fear. Had Jasmine come back and taken Tori from school? Had Tori fallen into some kind of danger, and he had no clue what was wrong because he was unreachable? Why hadn’t he gotten her a phone? Why didn’t he make sure she could check in as needed?
Regret compounded the fear, but then a call-waiting sound buzzed. “Mom, I’ll call you right back. Someone’s trying to get hold of me.”
He hit the button for the second call and Gianna’s voice came through the phone. “Seth? It’s Gianna. I’ve been trying to reach you but your phone must not be working right. I’ve got Tori at my place.”
“Gianna, you have no idea how happy you just made me. She’s been there all the while? She’s all right?”
She didn’t let him go further. Was that because she sensed the manic fear in his gut? Or did she have the phone on speaker and didn’t want the fear in his voice to scare his kid?
More likely.
“She’s safe and sound. We tackled math with amazing gusto, and I’m teaching her to pin patterns to fabric. What’s your ETA?”
“Ten minutes. You’re sure she’s okay?” He wanted to ask more, so much more, but common sense told him to back off. Calm down. Inhale.
“I’m fine, Dad. Gianna’s teaching me to sew!” Obviously on speakerphone, and happy, which would have delighted him under other circumstances. Right now? He was tempted to lock her up and throw away the key for months if not years like princesses of old. But first he’d lambaste her for not following directions, then hear what brought her to Gianna’s door in the first place, with no message to him, thrusting him into long minutes of hair-raising fear, thinking the worst.
Trust.
The word came to him as the clouds broke overhead, the last full winter moon brightening the ice-strewn lake.
Trust whom, he wondered?
Himself? Clearly he needed work, or his kid would have been equipped to call him, a fact he’d remedy ASAP.
Trust Gianna? Part of him longed to do just that, but lies and secrecy would never be part of his life again.
Trust Tori? A young girl whose past had been checkered by her mother’s poor choices?
Trust God, nimrod. The Father. The Son. The Holy Spirit.
God. The Alpha, the Omega.
His heart calmed. The burning ache in his throat eased.
He loved taking charge. He loved protecting others, but every now and again he needed a reminder that God was with him, “Emmanuel.” Trust hadn’t come easy to him these past few years. Maybe it should again.
Chapter Ten
Stretching pains woke Gianna in the middle of the night. She’d called Julia Harrison when they took hold in earnest the previous morning. Julia had reassured her, but right now, when Gianna wanted nothing more than to sleep undisturbed for another two hours, the stretching abdominal muscles wrenched her awake.
She didn’t want a bracing cup of stupid anemic tea.
She didn’t want to work on cute clothes for skinny people.
And she wasn’t a bit hungry. She glared at the clock, hauled in a deep breath, shrugged into ugly sweats and headed for the nursery. One way or another, this room was getting painted, and if she had to wait for Seth to do it, she’d be climbing the walls. Therefore she’d do it herself. She set up the roller on the long-handled attachment, opened the white paint for the ceiling, grabbed the stepladder and began cutting in along the ceiling’s edge with the tightly bristled brand-new brush.
A small sound made her pause. Then another one followed. Closer. Much closer.
A shiver traveled up her neck. Tiny goose bumps of awareness blanketed her arms. Just as she decided the house might have become home to unnerving rodents, the sound came again. Firmer. Stronger. From outside.
Her heart beat stronger. Harder. Her breath caught unevenly, because whatever was out there, outside the window, was close.
Too close.
“Gianna.”
The familiar voice came from below the window’s edge. Recognition made her heart beat irregularly for different reasons than it had moments ago.
“Gianna, let me in.”
She went downstairs to the kitchen door and cracked it open. “What are you doing out here?” she whispered, and while it was tough to put indignation and censure in a hushed tone, she managed it, because Seth looked half contrite, half amused.
“I saw your lights and wanted to make sure everything was all right. Is it?”
“Get in here. And don’t wake Gram.”
His smile said her scolding didn’t hold much weight, and that was good, because what she really wanted to do was thank him for coming across the road and checking on her. “Who’s with Tori?”
“She’s sound asleep and the doors are locked. I’m sure she has no clue I’m gone, and she was pretty tired after her escapade today. What are you doing?”
“Painting the nursery.”
“At four-fifteen?”
“At three forty-five, actually. That was the start time. First the ceiling, then the walls. I’m determined to get this done.”
“Now?” He followed her through the kitchen and up the stairs to the two-bedroom loft above. “Are you crazy?”
“Some think so, but they’re wrong,” she retorted. She got back to the room, tested the bristles on her brush to make sure they hadn’t gotten tacky while she’d gone downstairs, redipped the end and started on her last side of trim. “I couldn’t sleep. Stretching pains.”
“What are those?”
The word pain brought worry to his eyes, and while that reaction made her feel good, the date with Nikki kept her grounded in reality. “Just something we pregos go through, I guess.”
He put a hand to her arm, and when she looked down he locked gazes with her. “I’d like a better explanation, please.”
His take-charge look warmed her. His protective stance did the same. And when she hesitated, he reached up, nipped her around the vicinity of where her waist used to be and brought her down from the ladder. He took the brush from her, moved up the two steps and started cutting in for her. “Talk. And don’t wake Grandma.”
His use of her words made her smile. And while she liked his offer of help, she’d come to Kirkwood determined to stand on her own without the influx of lovable but intrusive Italian family members trying to run her life. She’d made the move to declare her independence, which meant she wasn’t about to let Seth boss her around, either. Still, it was a fair question. “Abdominal muscles have to stretch to accommodate babies. When they get to a certain point, the stretching becomes painful.”
“You’re in pain?” The look he aimed at her said he was one step from calling the hospital.
“Just muscle pain. Not labor pains.”
“
How can you tell the difference?”
Well, there was the question of the hour. “I couldn’t, so I called the doctor when they started yesterday. I didn’t want to worry Grandma so I didn’t say anything, but Julia told me these are normal for this stage of pregnancy, that they usually last a week or two and then abate.”
“What if she’s wrong?”
“Why would she be wrong?” That possibility hadn’t even occurred to Gianna because Julia had sounded so certain. “She’s trained in all this. I’m not. Let’s just trust her judgment, okay?”
He didn’t look convinced, but he turned back to painting, muttering as he went.
“And stop grumbling. If you don’t want to paint get off the ladder and give me back my brush. You’re being silly. I’m not sick, I’m pregnant.”
“Gianna? Are you awake, dear?”
They’d awakened Carmen.
Irked, Gianna clapped a hand over her mouth. Seth’s eyes laughed down at her and he waggled a finger in her direction. “Your fault. I was whispering.”
“I’m working in the nursery, Gram. Couldn’t sleep. And, um...” She half choked on this admission, wondering what her grandmother’s response would be. “Seth’s helping, too.”
“Good! I was hoping he’d come by soon. I’ll make coffee.”
Seth’s laugh nearly got him smacked. Her grandmother’s acceptance of the situation, as if it was perfectly normal to have a neighbor helping before 5:00 a.m., made the moment more ludicrous. “Don’t you have to work today?”
“Later. And I have to get back to my house by six for Tori to get up and get to school by seven-fifteen, but this is a pretty nice way to start the day, Gianna. And when Gram gets that coffee done, it will be better yet.”
He finished cutting in, then rolled the full ceiling before grabbing his coat to head back across the street nearly an hour later. Carmen had made coffee, then settled herself in the sewing area of the store beyond. The soft hum of her machine said she’d jumped right into some kind of unfinished business. “Don’t do the rest,” Seth instructed Gianna as he shrugged into his Carhartt jacket. “I’ll come by tomorrow and finish. And if it needs two coats, I’ll do the second one on Thursday, because I’m off both days.”
“I can do it.”
“I know that.” He turned and faced her, then cupped her shoulders with two big, broad hands. “But you don’t need to. Sit and sew.”
Buried emotions spiked within her, a tempest she hadn’t known existed until it burst forth. Proximity alone made Seth the target. Well, that and the fact that he’d gone out on a date with a stick-thin beauty a few nights before. “I’m sick of sitting, I’m tired of sewing and I feel like I’ve been waiting for something to happen...anything to happen! For months. And I’m about to go stark raving mad.”
He contemplated her as if weighing her words, her stance, her little tirade, then in one sweeping move he pulled her into his arms, lowered his head and kissed her.
Heart-stopping. Amazing. Delightful. Embracing and loving, the kiss rocked her world into a high gear she thought she’d forgotten years ago.
Wrong.
She hadn’t forgotten at all as her heart yearned to be cherished again.
She should end the kiss. Pull back. Step away.
She didn’t. She kissed him back, her hands wrapped around his head, the nape of buzzed neck hair bristling against her fingers.
He ended the kiss, scowled at the clock, then moved out the door. “Tori’s got to get up. Although in truth, I’d like nothing better than to hang out here awhile longer.”
His boyish grin said he’d enjoyed the kiss as much as she had and hadn’t wanted it to end.
Ditto.
But as nice as the kiss was, a relationship with Seth was off-the-radar impossible. She wasn’t protecting just her own feelings anymore. She needed to stand guard for the babies’ emotions, as well.
Most cops live well beyond retirement age enjoying long, happy, healthy lives. Carmen reminded her of that on a regular basis.
Statistics supported Carmen’s advice. But her father and Michael were both gone, and that reality marked her. If once burned was twice careful, what was twice burned? Bordering on three strikes and you’re out?
She made a face at Seth, and his eyes said he interpreted the look. But then he reached out a hand and traced one finger along her hair...then her chin...and paused there. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”
“To paint.”
He acknowledged that with a tiny, amused quirk to his jaw. “To paint. And we’ll have Tori come by after school. I’m sure she’d love to help.”
“Tori, yes.” Gianna nodded, glad to jump to a different subject that didn’t include longing looks and sweet goodbye kisses. “I wanted to ask you, but not with her around.” She stepped closer. Seth leaned the door closed while she talked, shutting the cold stream of late-winter air out. “Can she come here after school instead of the school program she was attending?”
“Well, I—” His expression said she’d surprised him, and she didn’t think too much surprised a cop like Seth Campbell.
“She liked it here,” Gianna continued. “And we enjoyed having her around.”
“It was nice having a youngster in the house, Seth!” Carmen’s voice called out from the shop beyond the curtain. “And she wants to learn to sew. And Gianna is very good at math.”
“I expect she’s good at a great many things,” Seth called back, and his tone revealed nothing.
The knowing look he shot to Gianna said he’d just discovered another hidden talent.
She blushed.
He grinned.
“Oh, she is!” Carmen called back. Her machine clicked back into gear and Seth softened the volume of his voice to talk with Gianna.
“Do you really want a kid hanging around here?”
“Absolutely. And she hates going to the wraparound care, so why put her through that?”
“Because I was between a rock and a hard place with little recourse.”
“Which we’ve just changed,” Gianna argued. “So let her come here, and she and I can address her math skills while I teach her to appreciate a bias seam and opera.”
“If it makes my kid happy, I can deal with whatever the seam thing is.” He paused as if struggling, then pretended to acquiesce with a hiked brow. “But opera, Gianna? Really? Do we have to go that far?”
“I’ll have her belting with The Three Tenors by the end of the week.”
Seth pushed through the storm door and strode down the driveway, but the sound of his laughter stayed with Gianna long after he’d disappeared into his house.
Seth.
Tori.
The kiss.
Are you trying to complicate your life further? Because you know it’s a given if you follow this path. A path to nowhere, by the way.
Gianna shushed the internal scolding and went upstairs. The scent of fresh paint wafted out of the nursery. Her babies’ room, soon to be occupied by two tiny lives. Did she dare move forward with Seth? See where this attraction would lead? Did she have courage enough? Strength enough? Faith enough?
Isaiah preached of God’s great love in a time of want and need. Gianna looked at the sweet room, almost ready to be filled with furniture. Her simple, shabby-chic room across the upstairs sitting area. Soft carpet beneath her feet. Food in the cupboards. Warmth and shelter from the storm.
She had so much. Despite her losses, God had blessed her with comfort and family who loved her. Maybe it was time to get over anger at what she couldn’t control and show a little more gratitude for what she’d been gifted.
One of the babies churned inside her. The other responded in kind, already duking it out for space and her attention.
A thin streak of light hit the undersi
de of the overhead cloud front, and the combination of the near sunrise and the clouds produced a wave of bright colors. Greens, yellows, tangerines and a hint of pink spread forth.
The colors would disappear as the sun’s arc tipped behind the low-pressure system dogging the Great Lakes, but at this moment the horizon held celestial beauty, a brightness she longed to carry in her heart forever.
Then do it. Move forward. You’ve already made big decisions. Keep going.
She would. No matter what happened with Seth, meeting him, knowing him—yes, kissing him—made her realize she still had a future. Better to let God lay those paths before her than erect more roadblocks, because the truth was she’d loved working on this room with Seth.
And she wouldn’t mind another kiss. Or two.
Chapter Eleven
As Seth stepped into the unscheduled meeting called by the mixed group of law enforcement commanders, one person stood out from the rest.
Tall. Broad shouldered. Tough gaze. And a tattoo that traveled from somewhere beneath his collar up to his neck. He wore some kind of name tag clipped to a low-profile brown serge jacket and carried a roll of papers under his left arm as if guarding them. The room reeked of trouble, and the expressions on the various commanders’ faces said likewise.
Seth’s boss, Sheriff Drew Jackson, stepped up to the podium, looking none too pleased. “We have a misstep in our bicentennial planning.”
A misstep?
Seth caught Zach Harrison’s eye across the room. They’d been coordinating the combined efforts of the various forces for nearly a year to make sure things would run smoothly during the coming tourist season. They’d checked and rechecked everything, with their commanders on board. What had they done wrong?
“It seems the state of New York neglected to inform us of some timely information.”
The man with the tube of papers didn’t move a muscle. He stood there, with over thirty gazes trained on him, and the guy took it.
His nonreaction moved him up a step in Seth’s opinion.
“The statewide bridge project has decided to choose this year—our bicentennial year—” the sheriff drew out the word bicentennial to make a valid point about bad timing “—to come close roads. I’m going to turn you over to Rye Gallagher to explain how this came about.”
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