by Lisa Childs
“He’s home,” her mother said. “He’s sleeping so hard I just checked to see if he’s alive.”
“He won’t be when I get my hands on him,” she promised, even though some of her tension eased with the knowledge that he was home and safe, for the moment at least. “Curfew means nothing to that kid. Where the heck does he go every night?”
“He’s a teenager,” Sandy said dismissively. “You’re young enough to remember what that’s like.”
Tessa hadn’t felt young for a long while, but she sometimes wondered if her mother would ever grow up. With her bleached blond hair and youthful attire of low-waisted jeans and a tank top she’d probably borrowed from Audrey, she didn’t look much older than Tessa—or Audrey, actually.
Sandy defended her son by saying, “At his age, a kid wants to hang out with his friends.”
“He might want to,” Tessa allowed, “but he has other responsibilities.”
“Like you,” Mom said with a sigh, “you never got to hang out with your friends, did you? I’ve always asked too much of you.”
Tessa stepped closer to her mother to determine if the older woman had been drinking. Sandy Howard had had problems with alcohol on and off for years, but Tessa had believed—had hoped—she’d been off for a while, since she’d been pregnant with Joey. Tessa breathed deep, inhaling the scent of stale cigarettes and the floral perfume her mother always used to try to disguise what she called “eau de bar.” “Mom, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, honey,” Sandy assured her. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
“Worry about Kevin. I haven’t seen any of these friends he’s hanging out with,” she said, her concern returning. “Have you?” “No.”
She sighed. “I’m going to quit the academy.”
She would get a lawyer—not that she could afford one—if she had to, to keep her driver’s license.
Despite not often having acted like a parent over the years, Sandy shook her head as if Tessa had asked her permission. “You can’t.”
“I can’t leave Kevin and Audrey in charge of the younger kids. They can’t be trusted.” Most people in her life hadn’t proven trustworthy. Like Sandy, who’d promised every time she brought a guy home that he was the one—Mr. Right who would take care of them and never leave them.
“This wasn’t a good idea,” her mother said.
“I know. But the judge decided—”
“No, I meant this,” Sandy said, gesturing around the country kitchen. “Living together. You’re twenty-seven, Tessa. You should have a place of your own.”
“I have the walkout level.” With a separate entrance, bathroom and kitchenette, it was more or less her own apartment, yet she was still close enough to watch her siblings and make sure no one got into trouble. She hadn’t done a very good job watching Kevin lately. Where did the boy go, and more importantly, what did he do?
“You need a life of your own,” her mother explained.
“I have a life of my own.”
“No, you’re living mine,” Sandy said, her voice breaking with emotion. “You’re cleaning up my messes. It’s not fair to you. I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”
Although she hadn’t smelled any alcohol on her mother’s breath, Tessa asked, “Have you been drinking?”
“No. That was a mistake I won’t repeat,” Sandy insisted. “I’m seeing clearly now. I’m seeing you clearly now.” She narrowed her eyes as she studied Tessa’s face. “Something’s going on with you.”
“This class—” And Chad, but she knew better than to mention a man’s name to her mother, who still held out for the romantic fantasy of happily-ever-after. “It’s a pain in my—”
“It’s good for you,” her mother insisted with a maternal warmth and certainty that reminded Tessa of Nana Howard, her mother’s mother, who had really raised Tessa. She and Sandy had lived with her grandmother until Nana had died when Tessa had been Audrey’s age—just fourteen. She blinked back tears, still missing the woman and loving this side of her mother. Of course Mom, though often flighty and irresponsible, was always loveable.
“You need something in your life besides work and family,” Sandy proclaimed. “Like Kevin, you need to hang out with your friends.”
“I’m worried about Kevin.”
“It’s not your job to worry about him,” Sandy pointed out. “It’s mine.” She sighed, and as if she really had channeled Nana Howard, she said, “It’s time I assume responsibility for all my mistakes.”
“It’s not your fault,” Tessa defended her mother with a smile. “You have lousy taste in men, Mom.”
Sandy smiled, too. “Yes, but that’s my problem, not yours.”
“I think it could be my problem, too,” Tessa admitted.
Frowning, Sandy touched her face. “Oh, honey…”
“I’ve never found a guy who wanted to stick around, either,” she reminded her mother. Tessa was probably genetically disposed to have the same lousy judgment. None of the boyfriends she’d had had been any more stand-up than her father—or any of the kids’ fathers—no matter how perfect any of them had seemed in the beginning of the relationship.
“But you haven’t looked for a while,” Sandy persisted, ever the optimist. “Maybe you’ll meet a nice guy in this class.”
Heat rushed to Tessa’s face.
Sandy’s eyes twinkled with delight. “Maybe you already have.”
“I’m not there to meet men, Mom. That’s Amy’s job.” She grinned as she thought of the police groupie. “She’s this college girl who’s determined to land herself a lawman.”
Mom’s dark brows arched. “You’re getting to know other people?”
“Yes. Erin, she’s a reporter for the Chronicle.” And probably like Tessa, she was too busy to make much time for friendships. “And Brigitte—she tends bar for her grandfather at the Lighthouse.”
“I’ve applied there before,” Sandy admitted. “They’re open twenty-four hours so I could maybe get a morning shift.”
“I’ll put in a word for you with Brigitte,” Tessa offered.
“You don’t need to do that. First Nana took care of me, and now you. You need to take care of yourself, Tessa. Make your own life,” her mother urged her, then pulled her into a hug.
Tessa was too stunned to hug back. Who was this woman?
“You need to find yourself a man,” Sandy added.
Now this was definitely her mother.
If Sandy met Chad, she would think he was Mr. Right, that he was as perfect as he seemed. Tessa knew better—no one was perfect…for her.
“HOW DO YOU LIKE your burger?” Chief Archer asked as he stood at the outdoor grill, his spatula held up to Chad like a weapon.
“Still medium,” Chad replied from the corner of the brick patio that he paced. The chief knew damn well how he liked his burgers. They’d been getting together a couple times a month since the chief’s wife had died the year before.
Frank Archer laughed. “Just trying to get you to talk. I don’t think you’ve said two words since you got here.”
Chad shrugged and grimaced as he rolled his shoulders, which had been tense since he’d pulled over Tessa Howard a few nights ago. “Just tired.”
“You’ve been working some extra hours,” the chief commented, always aware of what was happening in his department.
Chad nodded. “Yeah, just filling in where I’m needed.”
“It’s never enough,” Archer said as he flipped a burger. Grease sputtered on the grill, and smoke wafted out, with the rich aroma of hickory and beef.
Chad’s stomach growled; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. Probably something he’d grabbed at the ’house or at the little pizza parlor around the corner from where he lived. “What’s never enough?” he asked.
“Being needed at work,” the chief explained. “It’s not the same as being needed at home, as having someone special need you.”
After all the years of his wife being so sick, Chad
was surprised the older man wasn’t somewhat relieved not to be needed—at least that way.
“Luanne never needed me,” he admitted. “She was always so independent.” Like Tessa Howard, whose refusal of his offer to help had been haunting him. What had brought her out so late at night, barefoot without her briefcase?
“Bonnie was old-fashioned,” the chief shared with a wistful smile. “All she ever wanted was to be a wife and mother.”
“You don’t have kids,” Chad blurted out before he remembered why.
“Bonnie wanted to wait until I was more established in my career.”
That had been Chad’s plan, too, but he knew now how quickly plans could change.
“By the time I was,” Frank continued, “she’d gotten sick with her first occurrence.”
Breast cancer. Bonnie Archer had found her first lump when she was still in her twenties. Then years later, cancer had come back in other areas. Despite a long, valiant fight, she’d lost her battle.
“In a way, though, I have kids,” he insisted. “All of you officers are my kids.”
Chad laughed. “You would have been what—twelve—when I was born?”
“Hey, I could have started young,” Frank said with a grin. “Seriously, I do think of all you officers as my kids, and it bothers me when something’s bothering one of you.” He gestured with the spatula again, pinning down Chad. “What’s bothering you?”
“Nothing,” he lied, too used to keeping everything to himself since Luanne had died to share his feelings with anyone.
“Maybe I should have asked who?”
The nobody caught in his throat. No matter what she might have called him behind his back, or to his face, he couldn’t call Tessa nobody.
“Kent mentioned a blonde,” Frank persisted. “Was he referring to Ms. Howard?”
“Kent’s got a big mouth.”
“Not big enough for that reporter from the Chronicle.” The chief sighed. “The boy actually needs to talk more—about himself.” He looked at Chad. “So do you. You’ve let me ramble on and pour out my heart for over a year now. It’s your turn.”
“I’m fine, really,” Chad insisted. “It’s been four years since my wife died.”
“So are you over it?” Frank asked, his blue gaze soft with fatherly concern. “Are you over her?”
“How do you get over the love of your life?” Chad wondered.
“Fall for someone else,” the chief suggested matter-of-factly as he slapped a burger on a sesame-seeded bun. He passed the plate to Chad, who accepted it with a slightly shaking hand.
“Fall for someone else?” Had the chief met someone, or were they still talking about Tessa and what everyone thought Chad was feeling for her?
“I know—easier said than done.” Archer slapped another burger on a bun and, after shutting off the grill, carried his plate to the patio table to join Chad.
“Are you thinking about it?” he asked, nearly incredulous that the chief could move on so soon.
“Falling in love again?” The older man nodded as he tore open a bag of chips. “I miss it, you know. Being married. Having someone cook for me. Clean for me.”
A smile tugged at Chad’s mouth. “You don’t want someone to need you, you want someone to take care of you,” he teased.
“Maybe,” Frank admitted. He settled back in his wicker chair and gazed at the elaborate gardens in brilliant bloom around the patio. “Or maybe I should just sell this place. It’s too much work for me.”
“Is that all it is?”
“Too many memories, too, I guess.” He sighed. “Everywhere I look I see Bonnie. You sold your house—is that why?”
Chad pushed his plate away, his appetite gone. “I moved out because I didn’t need it.” The four-bedroom house with the big yard in which all his kids would have played. The baby’s room Luanne had painted with a mural of cop cars and fire engines. Every colorful room had reflected her personality. “I work too much, so the condo suits me perfectly.”
“But if you get married again—”
“I won’t.”
“Why not?”
“I knew when she died that I would never love anyone the way I loved her.” Luanne had been his first love, the woman he’d planned on being his only love. He couldn’t imagine falling for someone else. Yet Tessa’s face sprang to his mind. “So it wouldn’t be fair to anyone else or to me to try.”
The older man pushed his plate away, too. “Falling in love again—definitely easier said than done…”
Chad sure as hell hoped so.
Chapter Six
Brakes screeched as a black SUV rounded the corner of the parking garage. Chad stepped in front of the CPA class that had gathered around a police cruiser and an unmarked car, but the black SUV pulled into a parking spot, and Tessa killed the engine—instead of killing him. He expelled a ragged breath, which thickened to a white cloud in the cold air. Despite being only late September, Lakewood was having one of its early freezes, which was typical for its northern Michigan lakeshore locale.
She was late. Again. Which she would no doubt use as her excuse for speeding in the parking garage.
“You were right,” Paddy said with a chuckle. “She does need some driving-improvement courses.” He leaned closer and pitched his voice lower than the chatter of the class. “Maybe you should give her private lessons.”
Chad snorted. “Not damn likely that either of us would agree to that.” Since she hadn’t let him help her last week, he doubted she would appreciate any of his driving tips. That was fine with him. After his barbecue with the chief, he’d managed to focus again on the fact that he didn’t want someone depending on him.
“This is the last class you need me for,” he reminded Paddy and then himself. “The last time I have to see Tessa Howard.”
Unless he pulled her over again. What the hell had been going on with her the other night, and why had she been so reluctant to tell him? Then again, why should she have? They weren’t friends; they were nothing to each other. It needed to stay that way—for Chad’s peace of mind.
She stepped down from her vehicle, her heel balancing precariously on her running board. She wore another short skirt, legs bare despite the chilly weather, and the sleeves of her jacket only reached her elbows. Hadn’t she listened to the weather report? The damn woman was going to freeze.
He shook his head and sighed. She needed a keeper, however, he’d already proven he wasn’t qualified for that job.
“I haven’t seen you like this since…” Paddy shook his head. “Actually I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Really aware of a woman. You haven’t been…until now, until Tessa Howard.”
“I’m not—”
“That really bothers you, doesn’t it?” Paddy continued over Chad’s protest. Even though the class continued to talk amongst themselves, Paddy lowered his voice to a raspy whisper. “You don’t have to feel guilty, you know.”
“Guilty?”
“That you’ve noticed a woman other than Luanne.”
“Luanne’s gone.”
“Exactly,” Paddy said as if he’d made his point.
But the watch commander had no idea what was in Chad’s head—or his heart. And he didn’t intend to share his regret and loss.
“We have a class to teach,” Chad reminded his friend.
Actually to continue teaching. Before coming down to the parking garage, Chad had explained the pursuit decision-making model—in the warmth of the conference room. Tessa had missed all the discussion about what constituted low risk or high risk when officers were pursuing a speeding vehicle. Most of the CPA participants had been surprised to learn there were times the police chose not to pursue. When he’d explained about speeding through school zones and areas with numerous pedestrians, though, they had understood that the risk was too great. Which was the way he felt about getting involved with Tessa Howard.
“This session
is all yours,” Paddy agreed as he stepped back. He cleared his voice and raised it loud enough to reverberate off the cement walls of the parking garage. “Now Lieutenant Chad Michalski will be demonstrating traffic stop procedure.”
Chad’s last class. He could handle one more night with Tessa Howard. Maybe he could even find out what the hell she’d been doing in the park last week. Of course, he only cared because, as he’d told her, it was his job.
USUALLY TESSA would hate leaving a sales call for a class that she wouldn’t be taking if not for the threat of losing her driver’s license and therefore her job, but tonight she hadn’t wanted to be late. She’d looked forward to seeing Brigitte and Erin and Bernie and her husband, Jimmy, and even Amy and the others. Heck, she’d looked forward all week to seeing every member of the citizens’ police academy again.
She dragged in a breath to ease her irritation over her last appointment. The guy had been more interested in her than setting up an account. She clenched her fingers around the handle of her briefcase. He’d been married. Separated, he’d claimed. Even if he had been single, she wasn’t interested.
Another man drew her gaze. Lieutenant Michalski, so tall and lean in his black uniform, leaned against the side of his police car. But she wasn’t interested in him, either.
“He could pull me over any time,” Amy murmured.
“Remember you can’t flirt your way out of a ticket with Lieutenant Michalski,” Bernie Gillespie warned the girl. “It sure didn’t work for Tessa.”
Jimmy shook his head and murmured, “The guy must be made of stone.”
A frigid wind whipped around the cement structure, chilling Tessa to the core, and she whispered, “At least his heart is…”
Sure, he’d offered to help her last week, but only because of his oath to protect and serve. If she’d actually confided in him, she might have gotten Kevin in trouble…even more trouble than Mr. Gillespie was in for his flirty comment.
“Jimmy!” Brigitte admonished the older man, then turned to his wife. “You’re going to let him get away with that?”
“What?” Bernie shrugged. “I don’t mind that he notices pretty girls. He has always been true to me.”