“Caleb,” Brian finally offered. “Surely you’ve heard that old adage, ‘You catch more flies with honey?’”
“Than with vinegar.” Caleb tossed a box of brownies and bag of chips to the counter. “Sure, I’ve heard it.” Another couple of moments ticked by before Caleb added, “I suppose I’m being the vinegar.”
“Are you?”
Caleb knew an answer wasn’t really required. The message was clear. “Mom has a habit of calling me a sourpuss.”
Brian chuckled. “Your mother considers anyone whose smile isn’t ten feet wide and singing God’s glory a party pooper.”
“I take after Dad a little, I s’pose. Full of grimaces and suspicions.”
“Jacob and Levi as well. You certainly get your cop blood honest.” Brian laughed again, this time with an admiring tone. “Noah though, his cup is as half full as your mother’s.”
More like the boy was a grinning fool.
“Exactly why he better stick to being a small-town sheriff. The city would eat that kid alive.”
“And Serenity Cove would miss him strolling about, sharing his jokes, for sure.”
“Corny jokes,” Caleb muttered in complaint. “Knock knock, get some new material.”
“I enjoy a good old-fashioned laugh,” Brian admonished. “Listen, perhaps I’ll stop by tomorrow and meet Ms. Pearson.”
“Sure. Yeah, okay, I’ll warn her.” Caleb meant it jokingly but it didn’t quite come out as such. Not as his shin recalled the thwack of her crutch, his soul the sadness in her eyes.
“Uh oh, warn her?”
“Let’s just say this lamb isn’t much interested in being a part of the flock.”
“She’s turned from God.”
“Giving him her back.”
Brian’s reaction required no thinking, no deliberation or weighing of words. “Well then, we’ll just have to spin her a one-eighty. You’re on the clock, Caleb. The Lord’s clock.”
“I’ll do my best.” Saying his goodbyes, he hung up and dialed Noah, only to learn Tom had hung his “Gone Fishing” sign on the shop door despite the two other vehicles Caleb had seen parked in the lot for repair. Now Hope’s car wouldn’t be examined until the next day at best.
Small town life. When he was a Ranger, Caleb would’ve had that car turned inside out by a forensic team an hour ago. And his brother acted like waiting two days was no big deal?
Noah at least mentioned stopping by to take Hope’s statement sometime in the next hour or two. Then he’d go fishing as well.
Caleb glanced down at the picnic meal complete with left-over potato salad and recalled the pastor’s advice. “Actually, bro, let’s save it until the morning. Let her rest.”
“This paperwork isn’t going anywhere.” Noah wasn’t one to make a fuss, not if it got in the way of him and a big bass. “I take it your over suspecting foul play?”
“Oh, I can smell it like last year’s garbage. But she isn’t talking right now.” So he’d try catching more flies with honey.
Brian had a point. When questioning a suspect, he and his partner often played bad cop, good cop. Until Hope, he’d always been the tough guy, so hopefully he’d learned a thing or two from Nate.
“Not,” he muttered to himself in reminder, lifting the tray of food, “that Hope is a case.”
As he went to leave, the cold metal of the knob in his grasp momentarily flashed him back to the moments before the explosion. Chilling fear, flooding adrenaline. The mind-consuming awareness at any second, boom!
The tray teetered in his grasp, the sound of the explosion still echoing in his ears, his pulse thrumming. Grasping for purchase, Caleb saved the food and shoved aside the mind-rattling memories of fire and pain, pushing into the afternoon warmth.
He’d lived. Survived to see this day, riddled as it was.
Nothing haunted him more than the fact sweet old Annie Rivera hadn’t been so lucky.
* * * *
Still shaky from the flashback, Caleb pushed through the cabin’s rear entrance balancing the heavy tray, as hungry for Hope’s company as he was the meal. “Hey there, I’m back!”
For too long, he’d mulled around this ranch, haunted and alone every time the past came striking at the simple touch of a knob or flicker of fire. Discovering this, Brian had delivered Samson in attempt to distract from the black memories that clung like talons. But even as the dog came hopping and bouncing and greeting him with such eagerness one would think Caleb was a big slice of bacon, it couldn’t compare to the anticipation of seeing Hope. Of focusing on her.
Unfortunately, his new boss was nowhere to be seen. “Huh…”
He’d thought for certain he’d return to discover her whisking off dust covers, vacuuming, or some other form of direct violation of doctor’s orders. “Yoo-hoo, food’s arrived!”
Maybe she was in the bathroom.
Receiving no response, he placed the meal on the counter, took the time to wipe down the table, then set it with the paper plates she’d found earlier.
Still nothing. Concern crawled through him, unwinding like a snake. “Hope?” Where was she? Why wasn’t she answering? “Come out, come out wherever you are…”
He knocked on the downstairs bathroom door, answered by silence and confirmed it to be empty. Checked her father’s office. Even the front porch.
She must be upstairs.
He hoped.
Panic triggered and Caleb tore up the stairs, using the rail as leverage to push himself faster. “Hope, hey! Where you at?”
What if Neil had broken in? Gotten to her?
Forcing his slow leg, he dashed in the master bedroom. The guest room. The bathroom.
All vacant and untouched.
Only one door left…
Figured.
There she was, face down and fast asleep on a pretty canopy bed, flaxen hair swirled around her like a blanket of white gold.
Dragging in a deep breath, Caleb sighed in relief and leaned in the doorway. All that worry over nothing but a sleeping beauty.
“Rough day, huh sweetheart?” he murmured just as Samson bolted in the room, leapt on the bed and planted his face to her butt with a groan of pleasure.
Miserable, lucky mutt.
“Come on,” he called on a whisper, giving a low whistle as he reached for the knob to pull the door shut and leave her to rest. Experience ruled he not leave Samson behind, less Hope wake to a shredded bedspread or “surprise” on the floor.
But the dog refused to obey and though Caleb told himself he’d just grab Samson and scoot, he could not resist inching forward to soak in the sight of her resting so peacefully. Like an angel, with long, pale lashes curtaining her eyes and lush pink lips parted slightly, drawing shallow breaths.
He dared to move even closer, spotting the streaks on her cheeks. The damp spot beneath her face.
How his heart cried out at the sight. Oh Lord…
The poor girl had bawled herself to sleep, miserable and likely scared. How Caleb wished he could take back pushing her for answers. Whatever had gone on with Neil, of course she wasn’t going to be open and upfront with him. How could he expect to snap his fingers and have her lay her life bare in an instant? She didn’t know him, much less trust him.
But Caleb intended to see that change, if for no other reason than she needed a friend. And so did he.
* * * *
“I’ve the joy, joy, joy, joy…”
With a start, Hope awoke to singing. A male voice—unmistakably Caleb’s—deep and velvety and carrying the children’s gospel hymn though the house.
“Down in my heart, down in my heart…”
It’d been always been a favorite of hers. So melodic and easy to sing. Cheerful, igniting a beat in her very soul.
“And I’m so happy, so very happy…”
Good for him! Someone should inform the man he was missing entire verses. That his voice was off key.
“So happy…so very happy…”
Moaning
as if in the depths of purgatory, she curled tighter in a ball and debated whether another round of crying wasn’t in order.
Not that she hadn’t any tears left. All that remained was a deep, painful ache.
How long had she been sleeping?
It certainly wouldn’t do to have Caleb witness her in this condition. Then would come more questions. More demands.
Fearing her eyes were glued permanently shut, she slithered from the bed onto the floor and blindly crawled into the little bathroom off her bedroom.
The after effects of her breakdown felt worse than a hangover. Her head pounded, her mouth pasty and muscles weak.
In her heart, emptiness.
“I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy…”
“Oh shut up!” Pulling herself to hug the sink, she turned on the water and splashed her face until she could peel open her eyes enough to gauge the mess she’d made of herself.
The mirror was not kind.
Commandeering a handful of paper, she collapsed against the wall and cleared her nasal passages.
He was still down there, singing his heart out. Wrapping her in the wealth and warmth of his voice. Making her long, for what she did not know...
So maybe he was a little off key. Didn’t quite know the words.
He knew the joy.
Oh God…
Well, she knew the pain. Climbing to her feet, she squared her shoulders and reached in vanity, finding her old wide-toothed comb. Fifteen minutes later, she once again qualified as at least somewhat human and gathered her crutches.
The closer she progressed to the kitchen, the deeper and more velvety wonderful his tune carried. He didn’t know how to sing, no…but that didn’t stop his voice from being like silky bliss wrapping around her.
The song bottled in her throat, demanding blissful release and she choked it back as best she could. Found herself mouthing the lyrics as she stood in the living area, studying him as he methodically wiped the kitchen counter free of dust.
Never had she witnessed anything more enticing. The appeal of his body clad in simple jeans and t-shirt. The way his muscles bunched across his shoulders and back.
The awareness his song triggered, reminding her of better days.
Days when she too had the joy.
Too soon, he turned to her, glowering as always. “Hey there, sleepyhead. Glad to see you’re awake. I’m close to passing out from starvation.”
“You didn’t need to wait on me.”
“Yeah, I kinda did.” He rubbed the flat plane of stomach, the white cotton bunching beneath his hands to expose a sliver of tanned, toned abs. “I can guarantee once I start eating, I’m not going to stop.”
Oh yeah, she bet all those muscles required calories.
With a nervous laugh, she looked away. “You’ve been doing quite your share of work around here.” The dust covers were gone and everything wiped down. By the pantry door, the vacuum stood sentry, still plugged in. “What time is it?”
He gave a quick glance to his watch. “Late. After seven.”
“Seven!” She been out for hours while he’d been starving himself. “I’m sorry, Caleb. You should have woken me.”
“No, I’m sorry. Look, I was pushy earlier. If you say all is well, I take you at your word.”
“Really?” Was all well? Doubt rang like the death toll in her mind. After all, someone had placed a tracking device on her car.
But reason stood firm. This wasn’t a murder mystery. Life wasn’t as grand as fiction. And no one, not even Neil, had any reason to kill her.
“You’d know better than me, right?” he went on. “You seem perfectly capable of good judgment to me.”
“I do?” He’d no idea but Hope wasn’t about to enumerate her many mistakes—especially not to tall, handsome Caleb McBryde.
She told herself it didn’t matter what he thought of her. What anyone thought of her.
But it did, maybe even a little more than usual when it came to him.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Thanks, I guess. I appreciate your respect.”
She just hoped dismissing her accident wasn’t a major gaffe on her part.
Oh, get a grip. Of course not.
Face warmed from self-consciousness, she graduated to the kitchen, eyes landing on the table where Mousetrap awaited, ready to play.
But that wasn’t all. True to his word, a bouquet of roses centered the table in her mother’s vase. At least a dozen exquisite blooms radiated fragrance into the air, filling the room with the scent of romance.
Never had she been more touched by such an act of thoughtfulness. And from a man!
“Caleb…” She really wasn’t sure what to say.
Standing there, hat-hair amiss and lips turned down, he seemed to pin her with a disappointment-me-not gaze. “You offered me a rain check, remember?”
“That I did.” But what if he asked more questions? Wanted her to pray? She was about to claim she wasn’t feeling up to it when he held out a chair for her.
“I’m cashing in. No arguments.”
“Oh, okay.” Against her better judgment, she sat. “I mean, don’t expect steep competition. I’m sorta accustomed to letting my students win.”
Was that really the extent of her protests?
“Since I’ve never played, that may be a good thing.” His gentle blue eyes paused on her a moment, quietly assessing. “It’ll be fun. At least it looks like it. I mean, this thing,” he pointed to the mousetrap, as if the coolest thing in the world. “That’s gotta add excitement.”
Sure. Fun. She faked a smile. “Whatever you say.”
Hope figured it was easier to go along than raise hairs. Or more questions.
Clearly sensing her reluctance, his mouth stretched into a grim line. “I’ll fetch dinner. Hang tight.”
Dinner. At the reminder, her stomach howled furiously. She might want to avoid him but she couldn’t avoid food. Not at this point.
Three minutes later, the table was covered. Sandwiches. Potato salad. The whole nine yards…enough to feed a football team. “Are you expecting company?”
Once again he drummed his flat, defined stomach. “Just us.” Lowering himself into a chair, he reached across the corner of the table, squeezing her hand. “Hope, relax. I promise no more questions, okay?”
“Right. Thank you.”
It was the other part she was more worried about—the part where he took her hand and prayed, blessing their meal with a heartfelt grace.
Blessing her, whether she liked it or not.
* * * *
Caleb remained true to his word.
Throughout the entire evening, he didn’t ask a single question more about her and Neil. Didn’t even hint. Nor, to her relief, had he approached other taboo topics.
Instead, as they played amidst thwarting Samson’s many attempts at devouring the rug beneath the table and puppy potty breaks, he maintained an easygoing conversation about everything and anything.
With three younger brothers and a baby sister, he’d no shortage of family updates to share. Sophia had just announced her engagement and the McBrydes had flown to El Paso this week to meet their future son-in-law. Much to Sophia’s mortification, their parents weren’t being even remotely shy about their grandchildren expectations.
Newly promoted to detective, Jacob resided in Dallas, hardly visited home enough to satisfy their mother and could be certified a bachelor to the bones. Loved the nightlife, dancing, dating models and was more determined than ever to join the FBI. He’d earned his reputation as cocky and callous just as Levi had earned his as quiet and studious. That brother would graduate soon with his PhD in Forensics. Valedictorian.
As for no-news Noah, Caleb joked about his brother’s highest level of excitement being directly tied what size fish he snagged or hooking someone line and sinker on a good joke.
When he ran out of people to ramble on about, he told her about the horses, naming and detailing each of the wonderf
ul beasts to grace her ranch.
That few moments in between that he seemed to run out of things to say, he switched to humming gently, Hope no stranger to the tune.
For some reason though, she found she did not mind as joy, joy, joy, joy flitted through her mind.
It was catchy. Joyful. Lifting.
Irresistible.
The evening proved pleasant and full of laughter. Despite her initial hesitation, she was glad for his chatter. Even his humming. The distraction from her problems was just what the doctor ordered.
Neil. Her accident. The tracking device. In no time at all, she’d shirked her worries and lost herself in the conversation and game. A time or two she even caught herself murmuring lyrics she’d long since abandoned.
It was midnight before they finally admitted it was time to say goodnight, Samson curled soundly beneath her chair and both of them yawning like worn-out babes. Even still, she was sorry to see him go. In the span of one evening, his company had gone from dreaded to a comfort.
As they abandoned the table, Samson scampered to life, attacking Caleb’s jeans. Scooping the little dog up, she shushed him and followed Caleb from the kitchen.
“Well, sweetheart, sleep tight.” His deep voice poured warm vibrations through Hope as he topped his head with his hat, caught the brim in his thick fingers and tipped it her direction with a nod. “Lock up behind me and we’ll see each other in the morning.”
“Sure. See you then.” Knob in one hand, puppy in the other, she held the door. All of a sudden, she needed to say something more. Needed him to know…exactly what she wasn’t certain. “Caleb, wait.”
The growing familiar thud-drag of his boots halted at the top of the deck stairs and he turned back. “Did I forget something?”
“No. No, I just…I wanted to say thank you for a wonderful evening. I had more fun tonight than I’ve had in a long time.” Shyly, she smiled at him. “I guess you’re not so bad after all.”
“And you’re a force no mouse should reckon with.”
She laughed at that. It was true—she’d won every round. After all, she didn’t have the heart to allow a four-year old to lose but a man his age?
Hey, she’d played—and won—fair and square.
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