Jack Murray, Sheriff

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Feeling lighter than he had in days, Jack let out a rumble of laughter. “Consigning me to down under already?”

  “Wouldn’t think of it. Somebody might decide I should run for your job. God forbid,” she added piously. “The mayor is bad enough. The county council is all yours.”

  They talked politics briefly more as a decompression than because they had anything to say, then exchanged goodbyes.

  Jack hung up with a steady hand and a hopeful heart. Before he could have second thoughts, he called Beth’s house again.

  To her answering machine, he said, “I want you to think, Beth. I stopped Ray the only way I could. Whatever you may think, I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want your daughter to see him cuffed on the floor, either. I do my job. I don’t figure humiliating a man is part of it. I understand why the scene upset you so much, and I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I, uh, miss you, Beth.” He took a breath. “I’m a cop. I can’t change that. But I’m more than that. I thought we were getting to know each other. Will you think about the man you do know? And call me?”

  He hung up feeling dissatisfied, wishing he were more eloquent. But he’d said what he had to say. If she didn’t respond this time…

  Jack pressed the heel of his hand to quell his heartburn. If she didn’t call him back, he didn’t know what he’d do. He hadn’t loved often in his life. Why she was the one, he didn’t know. But he very much feared she was. Forty was creeping up on him.

  Beth Sommers, he guessed, was his last chance at the kind of happiness all three Patton sisters had found. And that chance seemed to be waving a regretful goodbye.

  BETH FIDGETED in the kitchen. From the living room she heard the soft murmur of voices, the pauses, some painfully long. She’d agreed to let Ray talk to the girls alone, but she didn’t have to like it.

  The temptation to eavesdrop was almost irresistible. She would have liked to think nobility kept her from invading the privacy of her children and their father. But, no. Beth knew better. She was staying clear of the living room half out of fear of being caught hovering outside the door, and half… She gave a soundless sigh and resumed pacing. The other half—admit it—was that she didn’t want to hear Ray abuse himself. The only way he’d ever win his daughters’ trust again was by being completely honest now, by admitting to flaws he would have bitterly denied to her even a week ago.

  He had so much to confess. First up was looking Lauren in the eye and telling her that he had thrown the cherry bomb that terrified and almost deafened her. He had to admit to having frightened them with those phone calls and ringing doorbells. To having lied to them, used them. To his alcoholism, and rage.

  Strangely, she didn’t want to hear what would be a pathetic confession. His children were the ones who had to forgive. She would rather cling to memories of Ray as a decent, strong man.

  And to her anger.

  She opened a cupboard and stared into it without any memory of why she’d gone to it. Did she want a cup of tea? She was too restless. She needed something to do.

  Pacing the length of the kitchen again, she happened to glance at the answering machine that hung on the wall. No new messages; one old.

  The one she’d saved several days ago, listened to at least once every evening after the girls had gone to bed.

  I, uh, miss you. Closing her eyes, she heard the soft rumble of Jack’s voice. That small hesitation, almost a throat-clearing, got to her; more than anything, it revealed how hard it was for a man like him to admit even so much about his emotions.

  Resting her forehead against the cool painted wood of the kitchen cupboard, Beth whispered, “I miss you, too.”

  Was it as simple as he made it sound? She couldn’t deny there was more to him than the badge he wore or the gun he carried. The flash of anger and violence was no more Jack Murray than the tears she’d shed that night were Beth Sommers. They were a part, not the whole.

  So what had her running scared?

  He might be like Ray.

  But Ray wasn’t a cop. He was a truck driver. Any man could be controlling, whatever his outward guise. A profession did not define character.

  Jack’s expression when he’d fought with Ray had scared her. But what did she expect? A few of Ray’s wild swings must have connected to Jack’s chin or the belly. He had seen Ray clobber her. Ray was drunk, his language obscene. What was Jack supposed to do, say politely, “Sir, please extend your hands so that I may cuff them?”

  She’d been a fool, Beth thought unhappily. Understanding that, unfortunately, didn’t dispel her fear.

  Her pacing had taken her almost into the hall, where she paused, straining to hear. A small giggle made her blink and then smile reluctantly. Her children were generous. They needed their father and wanted desperately to be able to forgive him.

  The voices resumed, still too hushed for her to hear. After a moment, she went back into the kitchen and returned to her reverie.

  It had been so hard to get her college degree despite Ray’s disapproval, to work toward a job that would give her some self-esteem, to stand up to him during those endless fights in their last year of marriage. It had taken every bit of courage she had to ask him to leave.

  She could not face living with an angry man again.

  Who asked you to live with Jack? her commonsense side inquired.

  But she wasn’t a casual woman. She couldn’t see dating a man if there was no possibility at all of the relationship going somewhere. Fun wasn’t enough for her.

  She might be misreading Jack. After all, he had to be in his mid-thirties, and he’d never married. So maybe he wasn’t interested in anything beyond a flirtation or a short affair. Maybe that was all that ever interested him. But…well, he seemed serious. The glint in his eyes was very, very serious.

  That, she guessed, was what scared her most. She didn’t know if she ever wanted to give her life into any man’s keeping.

  But she did miss him. Oh, she did! And she knew the girls did as well. He had been so kind, so protective, so easy to talk to. And there were those kisses.

  What if she never had a chance again to feel the way she did with him? She wasn’t quite ready—but fate didn’t always wait until a convenient moment to knock. Was she really going to be a coward now, huddling inside and not answering that knock on the door?

  It could get awfully lonely in here, Beth admitted. The girls were growing up. Right now they needed her full-time, but Stephanie was nearly a teenager and Lauren not that far behind.

  She should think about her own life, too. And how big a risk was it, really, to see Jack again? The first time he yelled at her, she’d say goodbye. She’d done it once, she could do it again.

  Her hand had been creeping toward the telephone even before she had reasoned her way to a conclusion.

  She dialed his number from memory, which embarrassed her considering how few excuses she’d had to call him.

  The mechanical form of his voice said, “Murray here. Leave a message if you want me to call.”

  “Jack, this is Beth.” She sounded breathless. She kept stealing glances toward the hall so that she’d know if Ray or the girls approached. “I wonder if you’re free this evening. I thought perhaps you’d like to come over for dessert. We could talk after the girls go to bed.”

  The phone rattled into its cradle, her hand was shaking so much by the time she hung up. In disgust she balled her hands into fists. For Pete’s sake, all she’d done was ask a man for a date.

  A man who scared her.

  “Mommy?” Lauren called. “Where are you? Daddy went home!”

  She hadn’t even heard the front door. Beth hurried to the living room. “I’m right here. He left already?”

  “He said to say goodbye.” Stephanie, perhaps symbolically, sat in the armchair a little removed from her sister and from where her dad had sat on the couch.

  “Oh.” Beth hesitated. “How did it go?”

  Stephanie shrugged, almost sullenly. Laure
n said, “Okay.”

  Did she probe?

  Darn right! She wasn’t being nosy; she was giving her girls a chance to talk about something important to them.

  “Do you want to tell me what he said?” she asked, perching on the arm of Stephanie’s chair. More symbolism.

  “It was a bunch of excuses,” her oldest daughter mumbled.

  Lauren gave her sister a chastening look. “He said he was sorry. He said he’d been drinking too much beer, and he missed you and us and he got confused and mad and did dumb things. But he promised he won’t do them again.”

  “He said he’s quit drinking.” Stephanie hunched her shoulders.

  Beth was careful not to touch her daughter. “That’s what he told me, too. I think he can. It will make a big difference in his personality. Alcohol makes him angrier and less in control. You know, he wasn’t always like this. Quitting drinking will help.”

  Stephanie looked up, eyes miserable. “Do I have to go to his house?”

  “No.” This time, she’d go to court and fight him tooth and nail to protect Steph’s right to choose. “But,” Beth continued, “I hope you’ll want to.” She smiled at the surprise on her daughter’s face. “He really does love you, you know. He was a good father, and I hope he can be again. There might come a time when he doesn’t deserve to be given another chance, but I don’t think that time has come yet.”

  Stephanie opened her mouth, but Beth held up a hand. “No, I’m not done. I hope you do give him another chance, for your sake, but I’m not going to make you. The decision is yours, and I’ll back you up whichever way you go.” Her glance took in Lauren, curled in a small ball at the end of the couch. “Both of you. It’s okay if one of you wants to see him and the other doesn’t. Whichever way you want to go,” she repeated.

  Stephanie’s stiff posture relaxed, but her tone was scathing. “She’s ready to say, ‘Oh, gee, it’s okay, Daddy.’ She didn’t see him.”

  Now Beth did lay a hand on Steph’s thin shoulder. “Lauren’s younger. It’s maybe easier for her.”

  “Daddy’s nice!” Lauren protested, a cloud gathering on her brow. “You liked it when he took us to that movie and bought all that candy and stuff!”

  “Until I found out he did it just so he could make Mom mad. It’s not like he cared whether we had fun!”

  “Don’t yell!” Her sister clapped her hands over her ears.

  Stephanie sucked in a breath as if to scream back, but with a loud harrumph she sagged lower on the chair. “She’s such a baby.”

  “She’s your best friend and ally,” Beth pointed out. “She’s always been closer to her dad.”

  It was easier for Lauren, always had been. Her sunny nature didn’t allow her to poke beneath the surface, to hunt suspiciously for dark motives. She wouldn’t recognize them if she found them.

  From the time she was a baby, Stephanie had always had a way of gazing searchingly into someone’s eyes, a pucker gathering her brow.

  “Damn it,” Ray used to complain, “she looks like she thinks I’m lying to her no matter what I say.”

  Sensitive, easily wounded, Stephanie would not forgive her father easily. Perhaps, she never would entirely. He must have left here today realizing that.

  For the first time, Beth felt deeply, genuinely sorry for Ray. Today he must have discovered what he’d lost. Would he surrender to drink again? Or would he be man enough to fight for his daughters’ love?

  “So, how’d you leave it with him?” Beth asked.

  Stephanie’s head was bowed. “He’ll call.”

  “And maybe see if we want to go to a movie or something next weekend,” Lauren contributed in a small voice. “If you say it’s okay.”

  “We’ll see.” Beth squeezed Stephanie’s shoulder. “Remember,” she said softly, “it’s your choice. Okay?”

  Her almost-teenager nodded.

  Beth smiled at them both. “How about if you guys help me peel some apples? I invited Jack over for dessert, so I guess I’d better have something to offer him.”

  Steph’s head shot up. “Really? You asked him?”

  “Yep.”

  “But you said… You weren’t sure…”

  “Sometimes,” she said especially for this daughter, “we have to take chances. We’d be awfully lonely if we waited to be sure. I decided I missed him. So…we’ll see what happens, okay?”

  “Yes!” Stephanie surged to her feet. “We get some pie, right?”

  “Maybe.” Beth caught Lauren in a hug when her youngest flung herself off the couch at her. “If you peel.”

  “Jack’s cool,” Stephanie threw over her shoulder on the way to the kitchen. “Right, Lauren?”

  Looking perplexed by her sister’s enthusiasm, Lauren said, “Yeah. I guess.”

  Steph disappeared. Beth held her youngest back. “Do you not like Jack?”

  “He’s nice.” Lauren shrugged. “I just don’t know why she likes him so much.”

  Because he’d come to the rescue.

  “Well, I have to admit, I like him, too,” Beth said lightly. “But you know what? You can reserve judgment. Let me know what you think later, okay? Today, or a week from now, or six months. No hurry.”

  “You’re not getting married or something?”

  “Just dessert,” Beth promised. “You’ll be the first to know if I get more serious than that.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Lauren’s face cleared. “Well, I like apple pie. So I guess I’ll peel, too.”

  “Then let’s do it.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  HE’D RATHER HAVE SEEN her by herself, but a man had to take what he could get. Jack ate apple pie and chatted with Beth’s children as if he wouldn’t rather grab her shoulders, give her a shake and demand, “Are we going somewhere with this or aren’t we?”

  He was sipping coffee and eyeing a second piece of pie when her oldest said a little too loudly, “Mom says I don’t have to visit my dad anymore if I don’t want.”

  Beth met his eyes in silent appeal.

  Jack lifted his brows at the girl. “Don’t you want to?”

  She looked at him as if he were crazy. “You arrested him!”

  Actually, in the end he wasn’t the one to make the collar; he was out of his jurisdiction here in Elk Springs. But she wasn’t being literal, of course.

  “Have you talked to him?”

  She rolled her eyes. “He says he’s sorry.” She made the very concept ludicrous.

  “You know,” Jack said thoughtfully, “I’ve never had much sympathy for men who abuse their wives or children.”

  Stephanie shot a glance at her mother in which he read both triumph and pain.

  “On the other hand, people go through bad patches in their lives. I know I have. No, I never hit the bottle like your dad did, but because of something that happened to me, I spent my early years as a police officer trying too hard to show how tough I was. I could be a real jerk. I think back to incidents I wish I’d handled very differently. I can only hope I didn’t ruin somebody’s life. It’s not the same thing your dad has gone through, but I can sure understand how he might feel now that he’s waking up, shaking his head and wondering what in…tarnation he did to you and to himself.”

  Beth’s smile was so warm and grateful, Jack basked in it.

  Stephanie, in contrast, studied him as if he were a slab of meat with a tint of green. “You think it’s okay that he hit Mom and…and threw that firework in the front window and kept hanging up when he called just to scare us?” she asked incredulously.

  “Okay? No.”

  The son of a bitch deserved for his daughter never to speak to him again, in Jack’s estimation. But whose loss would it be if she didn’t? All Ray Sommers’s? Jack wasn’t sure.

  “You have every reason to be plenty ticked at your father. More than that. Wary. I’m guessing that trusting him won’t come easy. It shouldn’t. That doesn’t mean that someday you can’t trust him again.”

  “You sound ju
st like Mom!” the girl complained.

  “Maybe,” Beth said, “we adults are more optimistic than kids are. Or maybe we know how important the people who love you are.”

  “Or maybe we’ve fouled up often enough ourselves, we’re more accepting of other people’s mistakes,” Jack suggested.

  The kid’s rolled eyes said, Grown-ups!

  At last the two girls reluctantly headed upstairs for baths and to get ready for bed. Beth made a production out of clearing the table and offering more coffee, all the while chatting about nothing as if this were the merest of social occasions.

  “Beth,” he finally got in while she drew breath. “Can we talk?”

  She paused with the coffeepot held before her like a shield. Her gaze met his cautiously. “Well, of course. Shall we go in the living room?”

  “What’s wrong with right here?”

  “Let me take this back to the kitchen….”

  “Why don’t you just set it down?”

  For another moment she hesitated, but apparently couldn’t think of a good argument to his suggestions. She placed the coffeepot carefully down, then sat as primly as a first-grader on her first day of school.

  “I should have called you sooner.”

  “I don’t want apologies,” Jack said roughly. “I’m the one who wasn’t very understanding. I’m sorry you had to see what you did.”

  “You came the minute Stephanie called.” Beth’s eyes were huge and blue, her smile painful. “That makes you a hero in her eyes.”

  “Only hers?” he asked softly.

  “Mine, too. Of course.” She compressed her lips. “I…hope you got my phone message. I really am grateful. I was terrified. Ray just seemed to go insane.” She bowed her head, her neck long and graceful with a bundle of dark hair loose on her nape. “He might have really hurt me.”

  “He did hurt you.” Renewed anger stirred in Jack, although whether at Ray Sommers or at her he couldn’t have said. “Did I lose my temper? Yeah, probably. Did I act on it? No. I handled the entire incident appropriately as a police officer, even though I’d have liked to flatten his nose. Am I just like him because I wanted to protect you, because part of me would have liked to hurt him? I guess that’s something you have to decide.”