A Dad for Charlie

by Anna J. Stewart

  “I don’t.”

  Her stomach gave that weird flip whenever she got upset. “Mom told me this morning that you have to work for what you want. If you aren’t going to help me make Deputy Fletcher my dad, then I’ll just do it myself.” Charlie didn’t want to leave this place. Ever. It was the best place in the whole world. But the only way she could make that happen was if her mom had a reason to stay. Charlie slid off the stool and picked up her bag.

  “Charlie, wait.”

  Charlie felt a single tear drop onto her cheek.

  “Charlie, don’t cry. I’m sorry.” Simon got up and bent down to stop her from putting her backpack on. “You’re right. I promised I’d help, and best friends always keep promises.”

  “Sorry is just a word.” Charlie repeated what her mother always said. “It doesn’t mean anything. You need to show it.”

  “Then I will. I’ll work during my lunch break at school, okay? I’ll come up with a plan, a couple of plans to get your mom and Deputy Fletch together, and we’ll figure out which one will work.”

  “You will?” Charlie wanted to believe him. “You promise?”

  “I promise.” Simon patted a hand on her shoulder and urged her to put her bag back down. “We’ll find a way to make sure you stay. And for you to be happy again.”

  “Then help me make Deputy Fletch my dad.” Charlie scrubbed a hand over her wet cheeks and let herself believe. “Then I’ll be happy forever.”

  * * *

  “RESERVATIONS ALL MADE?” Fletch knocked on Luke’s office door Monday afternoon.

  “Abby made them for us last night. Called in a few favors with a hotel in San Francisco.” An easy smile broke across Luke’s features as he dug out a file. The golden retriever sitting at attention beside the sheriff’s desk let out a small whine. “I believe this is yours now.”

  “What?” Even as Fletch walked in and stretched out his hand, he knew. “Your report on the vandalisms and break-ins? You know?”

  “That you’re taking over the case? The mayor’s email this morning confirming your meeting with him on Friday greased the wheels. That wasn’t necessary, Fletch.” Still, there was a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. “You sure you want to take this on? It could get dicey.”

  “With the mayor?” Fletch shrugged. “Don’t really care about that. You know he’s just waiting for you to screw up.”

  “I had a feeling. These days we can barely agree if the sky is blue.” Luke waved off any concern Fletch might have voiced. “It didn’t help I’ve been more than vocal over his plans to empty out what’s left of certain areas in town. That said, if people think my taking a break for my honeymoon is a dereliction of duty, then I don’t want their vote anyway.”

  “Why didn’t you tell any of us about Jasper?” Fletch asked.

  “Because I was doing my best to eliminate him as a suspect before I had to. He wasn’t as helpful as he could have been when I talked to him. Defensive. Secretive. Maybe you should take a crack at him. You’ve known him longer.”

  “Yeah.” Fletch nodded. “Might be a good idea.”

  “Maybe we’ll luck out and you can be his alibi the next time someone takes a sledgehammer and spray paint to a newly abandoned property. I don’t expect miracles in a week, though.”

  “Gil might.”

  “Yeah, well, Gil can shove his ideas—” Luke cut himself off. “You know what? I can’t really blame Gil. These vandalisms couldn’t come a worse time. We’re getting a lot of business interest, not to mention a run on real estate. The planning commission is poised to approve the new construction project, which means we’re going to have a lot of new residents around here, a lot of them renters. The last thing we need is visible evidence of town dissatisfaction. We need to put a stop to it.”

  “Then, Oz, Matt and I will get it done,” Fletch said. “Before you get back.”

  “I appreciate the confidence, but I won’t hold you to it. What was that yesterday with Paige about Jasper?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.” Not that the conversation hadn’t replayed in his mind all night. She seemed to have taken Jasper’s situation so personally. “You know Paige. She’s a crusader. She doesn’t like the idea of Jasper being set up for something he might not have done.”

  “Yeah, well.” Luke gestured to the folder in Fletch’s hand. “She’s not the only one. You’ve got his entire history right there. He’s made bad choices in the past, but rarely anything serious. I hate to pile on, but it’s not looking good for him, not with having found his school ID at one of the scenes. Maybe you should show Paige that information. Get her off your back. If you want to.”

  Fletch ignored the twitch of a grin on the sheriff’s face. “A, no, I’m not going to show her the file because that would be a violation of my sworn duties, and B, I’m not sure her seeing it would make any difference. She’s practically got the kid wearing wings and a halo.”

  “She sees the good in people, Fletch. I thought that was one of the things you like about her.”

  “I did.” Until that optimism got in his way. “I told you not to worry. I’ll deal with Paige and Jasper and get this case closed up tight enough that the mayor won’t have anything to complain about. Sound good?”

  “I’m not going to argue with anything at this point.” Luke grinned. “You’re in charge, Interim Sheriff.”

  “I can’t even tell you how not funny that is,” Fletch grumbled.

  “You good to take care of Cash while we’re gone?” He scrubbed the dog’s fur and earned a chuffed snort in return.

  “Yeah, we’ll be fine.” It would be nice having some company in that big empty house of his on the outskirts of town. “Prime rib and French fries okay for dinner, Cash?”

  Cash’s ears perked. “Woof.”

  “If it comes in kibble form, absolutely. I told Charlie she could come by and take him for a walk. Matt’s out of town visiting Kyle in detention for the next couple of days. Remember, you can always call on Sheriff Brodie over in Durante if you get into a bind.”

  “Uh-huh.” Fletch bit his tongue. Sean Brodie would be his last call when it came to anything. “Come on, man. Stop worrying. You’ve earned this time off.” About a gazillion times over. “Leave this place behind for a few days.”

  “Yeah, okay. You’re right. I’m due to pick Simon up around four, then we want to take him out to dinner to celebrate.”

  “Yesterday’s celebration wasn’t enough?” It certainly had been for Fletch, who could still feel the vestiges of the hangover threading through his skull.

  “Ah, well, Holly and I are filing the adoption papers this afternoon.” Luke’s eyes shifted. “How’s that for timing? Looks like I’m officially going to be a father.”

  “Try not to look so terrified.” Fletch laughed in an attempt to ease the tension in his friend’s face. “It’s what you wanted, right? To be Simon’s dad?”

  “It is, yeah. Just sometimes hard to keep those ghosts where they belong, you know?” Luke shook his head, stopping short when he caught sight of the band of gold on his finger and looked to fall into some kind of trance. “Never thought I’d ever be living in this town again, let alone married with a kid. And a job I love despite the politics.”

  Fletch never thought he’d be envious of the town’s onetime bad boy. Until Paige had hit town he’d never really entertained the notion of settling down. Now, every time he saw her—or Charlie—he had to stop himself from daydreaming about just that. “You paid your dues.” Luke’s past wasn’t something that needed voicing. Surviving an abusive childhood, nearly killing Holly’s father in a car accident that technically wasn’t his fault, doing everything he could to break the circle of violence that had encompassed his life, there wasn’t anyone Fletch admired more than Luke Saxon. “Now take off and enjoy yourself. We won’t burn the plac
e down. At least not without you.”

  “I’ll drop Cash off here in the morning on our way out.”

  “When you get back we need to talk about the youth center hours for when school’s back in session.” With Jake Campbell out of town for a bit and Luke heading out, aside from two or three scheduled classes, the center would be closed most days.

  “Writing that down right now.” Luke scribbled on his desk calendar. “You up for lunch at the diner later?”

  “Ah, no, actually.” Fletch glanced at his watch. “I’m going to get a jump start on patrol. Change up the timing so we aren’t predictable. Plus I told Mrs. Hastings I’d stop in and install some new security locks for her.”

  Luke’s brows knitted. “I’d say let me know how things go with Gil on Friday, but you know what? Never mind. I’ll hear about it when I get home.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Fletch would lay odds that within minutes of walking out of the mayor’s office, whatever they discussed would be flying around town faster than a monarch out of hibernation.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  PAIGE CLICKED OPEN the latch of Mrs. Hastings’s garden gate and steered her bike to the side of the porch. Lifting the box of fresh-baked scones out of the handlebar basket, her contribution to the weekly tea she and the elderly woman shared, Paige turned toward the front door as it flew open.

  “Fletch.” Paige couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice at the sight of the uniformed deputy. “What are you doing—” The question died on her lips as she registered the concern on his angular face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Paige.” She couldn’t remember hearing her name said with such relief before. “Would you stay with her while I call for an ambulance? Her phone’s not working and I forgot my cell in the—”

  “Told you once, I have no need for an ambulance, Fletcher Bradley.” The strained, familiar aged voice echoed from inside the house over the shrill whistle of the teakettle. “If I’d known you’d go all busybody on me, I’d have told you to forget those new locks and send you on your way.”

  “I’m a deputy,” Fletch called over his shoulder. “Busybody is in the job description.”

  “What’s going on?” Paige planted her hand on Fletch’s chest and pushed past him. She found eighty-four-year-old Celeste Hastings sitting in her antique rocking chair, a shaky hand pressed against her chest, eyes closed. She wore one of her usual floral high-neck dresses, her silver-threaded dark hair pulled back from her face in much the way Paige figured she’d worn it when she’d been the elementary and then high school principal.

  “She said she feels dizzy,” Fletch said from behind her as Paige set her box down on the wooden coffee table that had been made by Mrs. Hastings’s late husband. “She was definitely wobbly.”

  “She can speak for herself.” Mrs. Hastings dragged her eyes open wide enough for Paige to see the slight glaze. “I was getting our tea ready and felt a bit faint.” She aimed to pat the back of Paige’s hand but missed by inches. “The water’s hot.”

  “So I hear.” Paige motioned for Fletch to turn off the stove before she focused on her neighbor. “Mrs. Hastings, have you been taking your medication?” Paige shifted to one knee and angled her fingers around so she could feel the old woman’s pulse. Fast and thready. Her skin was clammy, but not overly so.

  “I keep forgetting,” Mrs. Hastings grumbled. “Darned pills are a nuisance. Too many of them. Makes me feel like one of those candy dispensers at the grocery store.”

  “We talked about this, remember?” Paige scanned the room looking for the container of medication bottles Mrs. Hastings had insisted on maintaining herself. “Taking them on and off only makes you feel worse. Now, I’m going to get your kit and we’re going to test your blood. Then we’ll decide if you’re going to the hospital or not.”

  When Mrs. Hastings nodded and closed her eyes again, Paige hurried into the kitchen and pulled open the cabinet over the sink. “Do you know if she passed out?” she asked Fletch.

  “Not while I’ve been here. She seemed fine when she answered the door, then started to sway. I helped her to her chair.”

  “Deputy Hero,” Paige said with a smile as she scanned the medication bottles. “A fall would have made matters worse. You probably got here just in time.” She found the daily pill organizers she’d purchased last week still in their packaging.

  “Looks like you know what you’re doing,” Fletch said. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Diabetes,” Paige murmured. “And she has some blood pressure issues.” Neither of which were helped by missed dosages.

  “I can hear every word you’re saying!” Mrs. Hastings called weakly.

  “I’m sure you can. Where’s your testing kit, Mrs. Hastings?” Paige asked.

  “By my bed,” was the response after a long sigh. “Darn thing makes my fingers hurt, and I can’t crochet with hurt fingers. I’ve got blankets to make for the holiday bazaar. No time for aches and pains.”

  “I’ll get it.” Fletch disappeared out the second kitchen door and into the back bedroom.

  “Nice young man,” Mrs. Hastings told Paige as she pulled up a chair beside the older woman. “Always been a good boy, that Fletcher Bradley. Took good care of his sister growing up. And his grandpa. He’ll make some young woman a nice husband.”

  “I’m sure he will.” Paige hoped Mrs. Hastings kept her eyes closed long enough so as not to see the blush in Paige’s cheeks. The last thing she needed was for someone—especially this someone—playing matchmaker. “I thought we had a deal. I come for tea once a week and you take your medicine.”

  “I’m an old woman. I forget things.”

  “Old I’ll give you, but your memory is just fine.” Paige opened one of the bottles and dumped the pills into her palm. A quick count had her own heart jumping double time. Frustration bubbled in Paige’s blood. Mrs. Hastings hadn’t taken her pills in almost a week.

  “Here.” Fletch approached from behind, handing the black bag over. Paige quickly opened it, readied the apparatus and clicked the springed needle against the side of Mrs. Hastings’s thumb.

  “Ow.” Mrs. Hastings jumped, her brows drawing together.

  “You’ve been testing on the pads of your fingers again.” Paige examined the faded black-and-blue marks. “You’re supposed to test on the sides so it won’t hurt after.” She may as well have been talking to herself given the thinning of Mrs. Hastings’s lips. When the readout blinked fifty, Paige’s training kicked in. “Fletch, see if there’s any orange juice in the fridge, please. If not, a soda or anything with high sugar in it.”

  “Yeah.”

  What Paige wouldn’t give for a stethoscope or blood pressure cuff. She reached for the old woman’s hand and took her pulse again, counting down the unending seconds until she felt a steadier beat.

  “Here.” Fletch handed her a glass of orange juice. “Should I call the ambulance?”

  “That depends.” Paige urged Mrs. Hastings to drink. “Let’s give this a few minutes and see how she feels. Okay? Nice and slow. There you go.” She smoothed Mrs. Hastings’s hair back from her face.

  Mrs. Hastings nodded, her trembling hands taking the glass from Paige as she did as she was told.

  Paige set the medications out on the table and filled the organizer, something she should have done in the first place.

  “Your hovering isn’t going to make me feel any better, young man,” Mrs. Hastings said in a stronger tone. “You go fix my locks like you said you would.”

  “Ma’am.” Fletch nodded but stepped back to look at Paige, who added her own gesture of encouragement as the concern melted from his gaze.

  “I’ll call if we need you.” Paige pulled Mrs. Hastings’s free hand toward her and dropped today’s pills into her wrinkled palm. “Take them, please.”

 
“Don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Apparently you do,” Paige said with a forced lightness of tone. Dealing with elderly patients took care and patience. Fighting them did no good and often created more problems than solutions. “I think you did this just to get me back here more frequently.”

  Mrs. Hastings smirked, opened her now-clear eyes. “You have enough on your plate without worrying about an old woman.”

  “I’m not worrying about an old woman—I’m worrying about my friend. Besides, Charlie would never forgive me if something happened to you. She loves coming here. Now take them, please.” She watched, satisfied when Mrs. Hastings followed instructions. “I’m going to go into the kitchen to finish fixing our tea. And if you’re feeling better in a few minutes, I’ll bring you one of the blueberry scones Charlie helped me bake yesterday.”

  “Would be nice to see your Charlie again. You’re a good girl, Paige.” Mrs. Hastings caught hold of her hand as Paige got up. “I’m sorry to be such a bother.”

  “You’re nothing of the sort. Now, you just rest and I’ll be back in a bit.” Paige returned to the kitchen and turned the kettle back on, sparing a glance over her shoulder to Fletch as he replaced the dead bolt on the back door. “It’s a good thing you were here.”

  “Looks like.” Fletch shook his head. “Reminds me of my grandfather. They can seem so...”

  “Fragile.” Paige nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

  “You were very good with her.”

  “I’ve had some experience with patie—um, situations like hers.” Paige bit the inside of her cheek and reminded herself to choose her words more carefully. “An elderly neighbor, where we lived before, had similar issues. Charlie and I used to check on her.” Had it really been over a year since she’d seen or spoken to Mrs. Brennan? Paige could only hope one of her grandchildren had stepped up to oversee her care.