by Linda Warren
“I bought Grandpa a barbecue pit for his birthday years ago and he’s never used it. The burners run on propane. I’ll put some water in a pot and take it outside. Where’s her bottle?”
Grace hurried to get a bottle out of a small ice chest.
“What do I need something like that for when I got a stove,” Grandpa grumbled. “Cora did all the cooking.”
“That’s very rude, Mr. Chisholm,” Grace said, and Cole stopped in his tracks.
“What do you mean rude? I’m not rude. I’m just being honest.”
Grace stared at his grandfather. “You’re being rude, and your grandson deserves better than that. He went out of his way to buy you something special, and you should be grateful that he cares that much about you. I know many elderly people whose children just forget about them.”
“I don’t know how to work it,” Grandpa muttered, and Cole blinked at his grandfather. He wanted to kick himself for not showing Grandpa how to use the barbecue pit. It was something new—of course he wouldn’t know. Cole had gotten his feelings hurt over something silly. What had he been thinking?
Cole shook his head, grabbed a pot and poured bottled water into it. He shrugged into his big coat and boots and hurried outside. There were two burners on the grill, and they came on instantly. He wanted to cheer. He placed the pot on the burner and went back inside. Grace had a bottle waiting for him, and in minutes he had it ready for Zoe.
Grace was bouncing her up and down in her arms, but Zoe wasn’t having any of that. The moment she saw the bottle, she reached out for it.
“Bring her to me,” Grandpa instructed. “I’ll feed her.”
Grace handed her over without question.
“Now you can fix breakfast,” Grandpa said.
“Grandpa!”
“Well, we have to eat something, and that pit works so we need to use it.”
“You’re one in a million, Mr. Chisholm.”
“Call me Walt. Everybody calls me Walt.”
“Okay, Mr. Walt.”
As they were getting things ready for breakfast, the sun poked its way through the trees like a lazy person not wanting to wake up. It would come out and then hide behind clouds. Finally, it kind of hung in the sky for a second and then brightened the cold, dreary day.
“What’s the temperature outside?” Grace asked.
Cole checked his phone. “Nineteen degrees.”
“It hasn’t been that cold since Jamie was five years old,” Grandpa said from the den. “We bundled him up and he slept between us. Well, he slept with us all the time. Probably until he was twelve years old. He was a mama’s boy, for sure.”
“Is that true?” Grace broke eggs into a bowl.
Cole shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there, but my guess is that it is.”
It was blistering cold as they went outside to make breakfast. “We have to do this fast,” Cole said, rubbing his hands together.
The wind had died down, so that made it easier up to a point, but they still had to work quickly. They had a frying pan on each burner, one with eggs and one with sausage. When the eggs were ready, Grace hurried into the house, and Cole followed with the sausages. But Rascal got in the way, wanting food. Cole tried to step over him, and it didn’t work. Rascal turned and Cole almost tripped with the pan in his hand. Grace stood at the door laughing.
“Is that a new dance?”
Cole laughed, too, and realized he hadn’t made that sound in a long time. At least not at this house. “I’ll show you.”
She squealed and ran into the house.
“What’s going on?” Grandpa asked.
“Cole’s dancing,” Grace replied.
“Dancing? What’s wrong with that boy?”
“Nothing, Grandpa. Just trying to get around Rascal.”
“That dog is always in the way.”
Cole didn’t glance at Grace. Things were getting a little too comfy. Instead he put the dishes from the night before in the sink. Grace went back outside to make toast. Then they finally sat down to eat breakfast.
“Where’s the coffee?” Grandpa asked.
“There’s no way to make coffee,” Cole told him.
“You can’t eat breakfast without coffee.”
Grace said something under her breath and then went in the kitchen. She got a pot, bottled water and the coffee canister and went outside. She came back and poured the mixture of coffee and water through a sifter and filled three cups. “Here’s your coffee,” she said to Grandpa.
“Now my food is cold.”
“Eat it,” Grace said in a tone that made even him sit up a little straighter.
Cole was beginning to think Grace could handle Grandpa. He gave new meaning to the word cranky, but obviously she’d dealt with that before.
As they finished eating, the lights came on.
Grace clapped. “Yay!”
She was holding Zoe, and the baby started clapping, too, making happy noises. Grandpa clapped, too, and the more he clapped, the more noises Zoe made. He was really getting attached to the baby. Cole had never thought of his grandpa as liking babies. It was an eye-opener.
He got to his feet. “I’ll check the heating unit to make sure it’s working.”
“I’ll do dishes,” Grace said.
“I’ll play with Zoe,” Grandpa offered.
When Cole came back, Grace was outside, probably getting the dishes they had left out there. Her phone pinged. It was lying on the counter in front of him. From instinct, he glanced at it. It was from a Joel Briggs. Part of the text was showing and he read it: You better bring my kid...
He could finish that sentence in his head, but he wouldn’t invade her privacy. He would give her a chance. He really liked her and her sincerity, and now...
She came back in with a bowl and a spoon in her hand. He pushed the phone toward her. “You have a text.”
She looked at it and then at him. “Did you read it?”
“Just the part that’s on the screen. It was right in front of me.”
He nudged the phone closer. “Open it.”
“I don’t have to.”
“You’re living in my grandpa’s house, and I was thinking of letting you stay here. I’m a cop. I can have access to all your information in minutes.”
She hung her head, probably weighing her options.
He took the bowl and spoon out of her hand and laid them on the counter. “I’m giving you a chance to be open and honest with me. I can guess what the text is about.”
Her head shot up. “No, you can’t.”
“Ms. Bennett, tell me who you really are and who that baby belongs to. And I want the truth this time.”
CHAPTER FOUR
AT THE SERIOUS look in his intense blue eyes, all thoughts of lying vanished. Grace only had one option: the truth. But would he believe her? Among all that intensity she glimpsed a gleam of hope that she had a very good explanation. Could she trust him? Could she not trust him?
“Who’s Zoe’s mother?” he asked in an authoritative voice.
She swallowed the last of her pride. “My sister.”
“Where is she?”
Grace bit her lip. It took every ounce of courage she had to say the words, “She died ten days ago.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his tone softening instantly.
“What’s going on in here?” Mr. Walt stomped into the kitchen. “I heard raised voices.”
Grace turned to him. “Where’s Zoe?”
“She’s asleep, and I put her in that box thing.”
“It’s a Pack ’n Play.”
“Whatever.” The old man looked from Grace to Cole. “What’s going on?”
“I got it, Grandpa.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “You got what?”
Cole sighed. “I’m talking to Ms. Bennett. Could you give us a few minutes?”
“You’re talking to her in your cop voice, so something’s wrong.” He pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.
There was a tense moment with the two of them glaring at each other. Cole folded first. “Okay. If you want to listen, you can. But you can’t interrupt. Just listen.”
Cole swung his gaze back to her. “Why do you have the baby and who wants her back? I’m guessing the husband.”
“It’s complicated and a little unbelievable.” She sat beside Mr. Walt. Her hands were clammy, and a fear that she was about to lose everything she loved washed over her.
“I have all day.”
“My dad died when I was five and Brooke—that’s my sister—was a baby. We had to move in with my grandmother because my mom couldn’t keep up the payments on our house. My grandmother and mom argued constantly. You see, my mom started going out and staying out late and not taking care of us. It was a constant battle, and then my grandmother got sick and my mom had to stay home to take care of her. I was twelve when my grandmother died. My mother started going out again, and sometimes she wouldn’t come home. She left us alone and...”
Mr. Walt patted her hand. “That’s okay, take your time.”
“I don’t know what we would’ve done if it hadn’t been for our next-door neighbor, Frances Dupree. We call her Frannie. She’s a widow, and she noticed our mother was leaving us alone at night. She had a big argument with my mother, who told her to stay out of her business. But when my mother would leave, Frannie would come over and stay with us. I was so afraid then. Frannie being there made me feel better.”
It always hurt to relive those feelings of being alone and not knowing where to turn. All her life she dreamed of being part of a big family, a big happy family without arguments and anger. She’d lost so many people she loved, and it had taken a part of her soul. She feared she was destined to always lose the people she loved. It still wasn’t real that her sister was gone. All she had now was Zoe, and she would fight tooth and nail to keep her. At times she still felt like that five-year-old little girl looking for her daddy. He never came home. And she never forgot that deep hurt.
She swallowed. “I took care of Brooke. I made sure she did her homework, made her lunch and helped her with her clothes. We caught the bus together to go school. Somehow we got through those years. I received a scholarship to go to a junior college and earned a two-year degree in health care and went to work. I pushed Brooke to graduate, and then she got a two-year nursing degree and went to work, also. Our mother was somewhere in la-la land. It all came to a head one night while she was at a party. It was summer, and she dived off a diving board and broke her neck. She was paralyzed from the neck down.”
Grace twisted her hands in her lap, feeling once again the burden of responsibility of taking care of her family. It was squarely on her shoulders, and without Frannie she would’ve never gotten through it. Her mother took all of her frustrations out on Grace, yelling and screaming at her that Grace never did anything right.
“I quit my job to take care of her. She died two years ago. She had mortgaged my grandmother’s house to the hilt, and the bank gave us two weeks to get out. We had nowhere to go, and thoughts of a homeless shelter really scared me. But Frannie went with me to the bank, and they agreed to work out a payment schedule. Frannie wanted us to move in with her, but I didn’t want to take advantage of her generosity. I just made sure I never missed a payment.”
She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to steady her hands. “Life settled down until Brooke met Joel Briggs. He’s an ex-NFL football player who one night came into the ER, where Brooke worked, with a wrist injured in a bar fight. Brooke was crazy about him, and before I knew it, she moved in with him. I didn’t like him, and she knew that. I wish I had been more...” She wiped away a tear and forced herself to continue.
“Three months later, she came home with bruises on her face and arms. I told her she needed to call the police, but she wouldn’t. She said she was through with him. She started seeing an intern at the hospital, and I thought she was over Joel. Then three months later, she informed me she was going back to him. She really loved him, and he had apologized and said he would never hit her again. She got pregnant and was excited that they were going to have a life together.”
She took a deep breath, trying not to let the memories derail her. “She was four months pregnant when she came home with bruises. That time I called the police, and they said there was nothing they could do. They gave him a warning and that was it. When she went into labor, she called him, but he didn’t come to the hospital. Zoe was two months old when he came to see her and apologized. He said he was seeing a therapist and wanted her to come back so they could raise their kid together. She wouldn’t listen to me and moved back in with him. One week later she brought Zoe to me and said to keep her because she was afraid Joel would hurt her. I told her to call the police, and she wouldn’t. She said she and Joel were trying to work things out. I tried to let her make her own decisions, but I failed her badly.”
“What happened next?” Cole asked. Grace hadn’t noticed that at some point he’d taken a seat at the table.
“I got a call she was in the ER. She was still alive when I got there. She said Joel hit her and she fell down the stairs outside the apartment. They had a big argument because Joel wanted to sell Zoe. He had a couple who would give him a hundred thousand dollars for her.”
“Excuse me?” Cole’s eyebrows knotted together in disbelief.
“She could barely talk, but that’s what she said. I know it’s hard to believe...”
“Was anyone else in the room?”
“There were nurses all around working with her, but I don’t think anyone was listening. Brooke held my hand and told me not to let Joel have Zoe. I’ve been Zoe’s primary caregiver since Brooke brought her to me when she was a little over two months old. She wanted me to continue to raise her. The last word she said was Zoe. Her hand went limp in mine, and I knew she was gone.” Her voice choked on the last word.
Zoe gave a little cry, and Grace jumped up and went to get her. Gathering Zoe into her arms, she held her close. She curled up in the recliner with Zoe and wrapped a blanket around her. She held her tight, gently rocking her. But there was nothing gentle about the emotions inside her. She had this deep fear she was about to lose the last person she loved. And the look in Cole Chisholm’s blue eyes made it as real as the goose bumps on her arms.
* * *
COLE STOOD IN the kitchen watching her. In his line of work, he’d heard a lot of unbelievable, far-fetched stories. This one was just like a lot of the others. The sincerity in her voice got him, though. He believed her—yet he never believed anything one hundred percent until he checked the facts.
Grace sat with her legs curled beneath her, a blanket wrapped around them. Zoe rested on her shoulder, and every now and then she’d kiss Zoe’s cheek. Her left hand went to her mouth occasionally as she bit her nails. She was nervous. Scared. And had no one to turn to.
“What are you gonna do?” Grandpa asked.
He looked at his grandfather. “Check the facts.”
“You say that like you don’t have any feelings.”
I don’t have any because you and Grandma never showed me any. The words were right there on the edge of his tongue, but he didn’t say them. It wasn’t that he was weak. He just didn’t want to hurt his grandfather, and dredging up the past would do that. He’d left that behind years ago.
Instead of answering the question, he said, “I’m going to take a shower and change.”
Grandpa followed him. “You better make sure they don’t take that baby from her.”
Cole stopped at the door to the bathroom. “Grandpa, I’ll look into it. The bottom line is that baby belongs to someone else. And it’s going to take
a miracle for Ms. Bennett to keep her.”
“Don’t you worry. Your grandma has it covered.”
Cole sighed. Here we go again. The moment those words crossed his mind, he knew he hadn’t left the past behind. He just liked to think that he had. It was there every time he had to deal with his grandpa. He felt like that little boy trying to get his grandmother’s attention, trying to make her believe that he wasn’t Jamie. Some days he had this feeling that he and Jamie were one and the same and he was never going to find out who Cole really was because he was the shadow of Jamie.
He took a cold shower to give his senses a jolt. He lived in the present, not the past. And he refused to let the past control him.
Fifteen minutes later he was clean shaven, dressed in jeans, a blue shirt and boots, ready to face whatever this day brought. And he just might uncover the secrets in the dark, dark well of Grace Bennett.
Ms. Bennett was still in the chair; Grandpa bounced Zoe up and down on his lap. A scene from a normal family life, but normal never lived in this house.
“I’m going to go check on your car and make sure that Bubba has towed it to his shop,” he said to her. “We don’t want to leave it out there too long, or it will get stripped.”
“Oh, okay.” She seemed surprised.
“And I’ll make sure he pulls it over to Lamar’s body shop and I’ll check in there to see how long it will take him to fix it. He’s going to want proof of insurance. You might want to call your insurance company.”
“Sure.” She got up and riffled through her purse and handed him a card.
“I’ll be back later.” He glanced toward his grandpa. “Do you think you can take care of things here?”
“I don’t see a problem,” she said.
“Don’t go outside. It’s still icy everywhere.”
“Okay.”
He turned to leave, but she stopped him. “Do you believe me?”
“I try not to make snap judgments or go on emotions. I’ll check the facts and get back with you.” He looked into those dark eyes. “But if you have anything else to say, you better tell me now. If you lie to me, I’ll be less inclined to help you.”