You'll Think of Me

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Brooklyn remembered the impromptu softball games that had taken place on the Fourth when she was a girl. Anyone sixteen and over could play, as she recalled. Men and women had brought their own bats and balls and the necessary bases. Teams had been formed by drawing names from a hat. The park didn’t have bleachers or an official ball field, so spectators brought blankets and lawn chairs. She wondered if the games were still done the same way.

  She looked at Derek. “Are you going to play?”

  “Can’t right now. I’ve got to head home to take care of the animals. They need to eat before I do.”

  The disappointment she felt was unexpected. Then again . . . maybe it wasn’t.

  “Is it okay if I leave Miss Trouble with Alycia? She offered, but I wanted to make certain it’s all right with you.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Thanks. It won’t take me long.” He passed the dog to Alycia. “I’ll look for you when I get back.”

  Chapter 19

  Derek completed his evening chores in record time. Afterward, he took a moment to wash up in the house before he got into his pickup and drove back to town, eager to find Brooklyn again. Parking spaces within two or three blocks of the park were at even more of a premium now than they had been earlier in the day. Fortunately, nobody had blocked his grandmother’s driveway, as had happened a time or two through the years.

  Before he looked for Brooklyn—and Alycia and Miss Trouble, of course—he made his way to Gran, checking in with her again, the way he always did on this hectic holiday. Although she ventured forth from her spot under the elm trees now and again throughout the day, much of the town made its way to her, if for nothing more than to say hello and to wish her a happy Fourth.

  “Hey, Gran.”

  “Oh good. You’re back.”

  “Why? Did you need something?”

  “Heavens, no. I don’t need a thing.” She raised an eyebrow. “What about you, dear?”

  “Not sure what you mean.”

  “That’s okay.” She grinned. “You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”

  Since he truly didn’t have a clue what she meant, he shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “Where’s Miss Trouble?”

  “Still with Brooklyn and Alycia.” He glanced toward the western end of the park. “They were headed over to watch the game the last I saw them.”

  “Well, don’t waste time here with me. Get on with you.”

  He grinned as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I’ll do that.”

  “And if the dog gets underfoot, you bring her back here to me. She and I get along quite well together.”

  “Okay.”

  He set off across the park, greeting people along the way. Shouts from the ball game reached him well before his arrival.

  Hank McLean spied him from the sidelines. “Hey, Derek. You here to play?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Not this year.”

  “But we need you. We’re losing.”

  Derek shrugged. “Sorry. Other plans.”

  Not giving his friend a chance to ask questions or make another attempt to get him to play, Derek moved on. He worked his way around the edge of the crowd. He’d made almost a full half circle before he spotted them, their backs toward the sun that had lowered in the western sky. He stopped and simply observed them for a few moments, trying to analyze what it was that he felt when he looked at Brooklyn. No, more than that. What he felt when he looked at both mother and daughter together. For they came as a package deal.

  “You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.” Maybe he knew what his grandmother had been asking him after all. But was he ready to discover the answer?

  When Hank McLean hit the ball into the trees at the far side of the backfield, Brooklyn jumped to her feet and screamed her excitement right along with the rest of the crowd. “Go! Go! Go!” she shouted as Hank rounded third base and headed for home.

  As the crowd continued to celebrate the home run, a fresh sense of belonging washed over Brooklyn. An even stronger one than what she’d felt the day before. For most of her life she’d felt invisible, an outsider. First in Thunder Creek. Then in Reno. But no longer. Right now she felt a part of it all.

  She turned for a victory slap of hands with her daughter but found Derek approaching them. Her mind went temporarily blank. Her stomach tumbled. He’d said he would seek her out when he got back. Was that only because of Miss Trouble?

  His grin and the look in his eyes said otherwise. She felt the latter all the way down to her toes.

  “Hank can really hit a ball,” he said when he stopped the other side of Alycia.

  “He sure can.”

  “He told me a minute ago that his side was losing. Doesn’t look like that now.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Her heart beat erratically in her chest. Silly. Over a home run?

  Derek looked down at Alycia. “Who’re you rooting for?”

  “The blue team.”

  “Good choice.” He glanced up again, his smile warm.

  “Aren’t you going to play?” Brooklyn asked.

  He shook his head. “I think I’ll sit this one out. Mind if I join you?”

  Like him, she shook her head. She didn’t mind. She definitely didn’t mind. Part of her was convinced it wasn’t smart for her to feel that way. She chose to ignore that part.

  They sank to the ground, Brooklyn and Alycia with a blanket beneath them, Derek sitting on the grass.

  Another batter stepped to the plate.

  “That’s Wendy’s dad,” Alycia said. “He’s super nice.”

  Derek replied, “I agree. Ian’s a great guy.”

  “Wendy’s lucky.” A wistfulness had entered her daughter’s voice and flickered in her eyes. “It must be nice. You know. A mom and a dad and a brother. Being a family like that.”

  Brooklyn’s breath caught in her chest. She’d never heard Alycia say anything like that before. She’d known and yet she hadn’t known the way her daughter must feel. But hearing the words aloud . . .

  Again it was Derek who answered Alycia. “You know what, kiddo? It is nice. But there’s all kinds of ways to have a family.” He draped one arm casually around Alycia’s shoulders. “This is nice too.”

  “It sure is, Mr. Johnson.”

  She stared at the pair of them, comfortable, happy. Envy of her friend hadn’t lingered in her daughter’s expression. Derek had driven it away.

  In that moment, Brooklyn could almost believe in love again.

  Strange, how natural it felt to gather up Brooklyn’s blanket when the ball game ended and to walk with them to the food court for something to eat before the fireworks began. And it pleased him that Brooklyn and Alycia seemed to feel the same way.

  They made a stop to leave both blanket and dog with Gran, who also looked rather pleased. With herself? Or with him?

  “We’ll be back for Trouble when we’re done eating,” he told her.

  “No hurry. She’s well behaved.” Gran’s gaze shifted to Brooklyn. “Are you having a good time, dear?”

  “Yes.”

  “Me too,” Alycia piped in.

  Gran’s smile broadened. “I’m so glad.”

  Derek took a step toward Brooklyn and Alycia. “So what is it you want to eat?”

  Brooklyn gave a slight shrug, as if to say she didn’t care.

  Alycia’s hunger was more precise. “A party pup. And a really big lemonade.”

  “That okay?” he asked Brooklyn.

  “It’s fine.”

  They moved on, Alycia leading the way. Derek thought she looked like a racehorse at the starting gate. Any moment she would run off, leaving them in the dust.

  “She’s loving all of this,” Brooklyn said.

  “No Fourth of July celebrations where you used to live?”

  “Yes.” She stopped walking. “But it isn’t quite the same in a city as it is in a small town.”

  Derek stopped, too, watching a play of emotions cross her f
ace. He didn’t know her well enough to understand everything he saw there. But he would like to understand. “And you?” he asked after a while. “Are you loving it?” He waited, her answer important to him.

  Her smile slipped away. Not unhappy. Serious. At last she answered, “Yes.”

  Something special seemed to pass between them. Something Derek had never experienced before and couldn’t quite define. What he could define was the sudden desire to kiss her, right there in the middle of that crowd. That would have given the town gossips something to talk about. But would she welcome it or run away?

  Alycia’s voice intruded on his wayward thoughts. “Are you guys coming?”

  Derek held Brooklyn’s gaze a few moments longer.

  A flicker of a smile tugged at her mouth, then she turned toward her daughter. “Yes. We’re coming.”

  They went to the booth, where they ordered their party pups—corn dogs slathered in mustard—as well as large lemonades. They ate while strolling around the park. They didn’t talk. Mostly they smiled for no apparent reason.

  At one point, Brooklyn stopped, so Derek did the same. She eyed him a moment, then reached out with her thumb and wiped the corner of his mouth. “Mustard,” she said, holding up that same thumb. He licked the spot she’d touched with the tip of his tongue. If he wasn’t mistaken, she blushed before she turned away and resumed their walk.

  Derek thought of that saying he’d often heard: “Man plans and God laughs.” That seemed to fit this situation. Derek had decided to avoid women for the foreseeable future, but God had made Brooklyn his neighbor . . . and perhaps even caused this growing attraction between them.

  Chapter 20

  Eyes still closed, Brooklyn raised her arms above her head and stretched, her fingertips touching the headboard. She smiled. Not over anything in particular. More over everything in general.

  The busyness of the hours she’d spent working at the diner’s booth had caused her to sleep like the dead. But the charming nature of the entire day—including Derek’s company throughout the evening hours—had left her feeling contented and happy. Perhaps more than it should have.

  Sighing, she opened her eyes. Sunlight spilled through the slats in the blinds, telling her that morning was well under way. Derek, the farmer, would think her a lazybones for certain if he could see her still in bed.

  A disturbing thought. In a pleasant kind of way.

  She shoved aside the sheet and blanket and got up. A quick shower was in order. Then there was a long list of things she wanted to accomplish today.

  Half an hour later, damp hair caught in her usual ponytail, Brooklyn sat at the kitchen table, laptop before her, once again scrolling through websites of bed-and-breakfast establishments in Idaho, jotting down an ever-expanding list of ideas. She was thankful Internet service was available and affordable in their location. Her continued research and planning would have been more difficult if she had to go into town for access.

  Across from her, Alycia looked up from her book. “What are you doing, Mom?”

  “Getting more ideas.” She met her daughter’s gaze across the top of the laptop. “Did you eat enough breakfast?”

  As if in answer, Alycia popped the last of the buttered toast into her mouth. “Mm-hmm.” She swallowed. “Shall I go take care of Miss Trouble now?”

  “I thought Mr. Johnson said you didn’t need to go over until after lunch since he planned to be working on his computer this morning.”

  “Yeah, but his pickup’s not there now. I looked a little bit ago. What if Miss Trouble needs out?”

  “He probably had to run into town for some feed or something. He would have let us know if he planned to be away for long.”

  “I suppose.”

  Brooklyn smiled at her daughter as she closed the laptop, giving up on her research for now. “Why don’t you and I do our grocery shopping? If Mr. Johnson isn’t home when we get back, we can check on Miss Trouble then.”

  Interesting how easily she had added herself to that particular errand.

  “Okay.”

  While Alycia put on her shoes, Brooklyn grabbed her shopping list from beneath the magnet on the fridge. A short while later, they were on their way.

  The market parking lot was almost empty at this hour on a Wednesday morning, but what customers were in the store all seemed to be standing in a close circle inside the automatic doors.

  Georgia Hanover, one of Ruth’s friends who had helped Brooklyn with cleaning the house, looked over her shoulder at the sound of the opening doors. “Brooklyn.” She motioned the new arrivals forward. “Have you heard? There’s some sort of emergency at the Riverside Vineyard.”

  “Emergency?”

  “Deputies from several counties have been called to the site. We heard that a man’s been shot. Maybe killed. Could be hostages.”

  Someone shot and possibly killed. Hostages. Deputies.

  Derek.

  Brooklyn felt a surge of panic.

  The store manager said, “Nobody knows much of anything at this point, but we figure it’s got to be serious. Seems it’s been going on for hours.”

  Brooklyn took her daughter’s hand. “Come on, honey. We can shop later. Right now we need to go check on Mrs. Johnson. She’ll be worried about Derek.” Brooklyn was worried about Derek, too, but she didn’t want to say that aloud. Not in front of her daughter. Not in front of the others.

  Together they hurried out of the grocery store and to the car. It took mere minutes to drive from the market to Ruth Johnson’s home, but it felt much longer to Brooklyn. After parking on the street, she led the way to the shop entrance. The sign in the window said Closed. She tried the door anyway. It opened before her.

  “Ruth?” They stepped into the empty shop. “Camila?”

  Silence surrounded them.

  “Let’s go around to the back door to the house,” she said to Alycia.

  Before they could turn, the door that connected the shop to Ruth’s kitchen opened, and the older woman stepped into view. The age lines in her face seemed to have deepened overnight.

  “We came as soon as we heard.”

  Ruth motioned them forward. “We were praying for the safety of everyone at the vineyard.”

  “Do you have any details? Has there been any word from Derek?”

  “No, dear. None is expected. He’s on duty. No spare time to contact his grandmother, I’m sure. All we can do is wait.” Ruth led the way into her kitchen.

  Camila Diaz sat at the table, a mug of coffee held between both hands, her expression as solemn as Ruth’s. With a nod, she acknowledged Brooklyn’s presence.

  “Coffee or tea?” Ruth asked.

  “Coffee, please. But I—”

  “And you, Alycia? Would you like some juice?”

  “Sure. I mean, thanks, Mrs. Johnson.”

  “Apple or orange?”

  “Apple juice, please.”

  Brooklyn stopped by an empty chair, watching as Ruth poured apple juice into a plastic tumbler. “Can I h—?”

  Camila touched the back of Brooklyn’s hand with her fingertips. When Brooklyn looked at her, she shook her head. “It’s good for her to stay busy,” she said softly. “A grandchild in law enforcement can be a worrisome thing.”

  Ruth brought the juice glass to Alycia, now seated at the table. Then she turned toward the coffeemaker.

  Brooklyn had to fight the urge to follow her there. Her own hands felt much too idle.

  The incident at the Riverside Vineyard that had called Derek to work turned out to be a couple of employees losing their tempers. Heated words had been exchanged, and then one of the men involved had waved a gun around. An unloaded gun, as they later learned. But at the time, the action alarmed the other employees, several of whom called 911 on their cell phones.

  Several hours later—after doing his part to calm folks down and taking almost a dozen witness statements—Derek climbed into his truck. He let out a breath and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.


  “Sorry about calling you in on your day off.”

  He looked out the open pickup window at Hank. “No problem.”

  Although it was a problem. After taking yesterday off, Derek had planned to spend the morning catching up on important paperwork, including paying bills. Now he would be up late into the night completing those tasks. But first there were animals to feed and crops to water.

  Hank patted the truck door. “At least it turned out all right.”

  “Yeah.”

  With a nod, Hank walked back toward the main building.

  As Derek reached to turn the key in the ignition, his phone vibrated. Gran’s photo appeared on the screen. He answered it. “Hey, Gran.”

  “Oh, Derek. Thank God. Are you all right? I waited as long as I could bear before trying to call you.” His grandmother wasn’t making any sense, and that wasn’t like her.

  “I’m fine, Gran. Why? What’s up?”

  “Are you still at Riverside? Is the standoff over? Did anybody die?”

  “Standoff?” He took a breath. “Gran, what are you talking about?”

  There was a lengthy silence. Then in a slightly calmer tone of voice, his grandmother told him what she had heard. Derek wasn’t surprised by what rumors had done to the truth, but it did catch him off guard how quickly it had happened.

  “I’m sorry you were worried, Gran.” He gave her an abbreviated version of that morning’s incident. “Do you want me to come over? I need to go home to feed the animals first, but I could—”

  “You don’t have to worry about them, dear. Brooklyn is taking care of them now.”

  “Brooklyn?”

  “And Alycia. They came to see if I was all right. Wasn’t that sweet of them? Anyway, we were told that you were called out in the night, so when we learned that, they went home to see to Miss Trouble and the horses and such.”

  He hadn’t been called out in the night, of course, but apparently the rumor mill had gotten that wrong too. And how would Brooklyn know what to feed or how much? A farm girl she wasn’t. “I’d better get home, Gran. But would you let your friends know that everything is fine and nobody was shot? Shut down the rumor mill if you can.”