by Linda Warren
“I told you the high chair would work. She likes it.”
“Yes, but I’m afraid she’s going to scratch it or something.”
What high chair? It couldn’t be Jamie’s high chair.
“I’ll fix it. I had to fix it after Cole grew out of it. He had it all bunged up. Jamie hardly got a scratch on it, but Cole was...”
“Mr. Walt, please don’t say that again.”
“Now what are you on about?”
“You were fixing to compare Cole to Jamie again.”
“I was not.”
“Mr. Walt...”
“Oh, all right. I’m just used to doing that.”
What had happened while he’d been gone?
“You need to stop. How do you think Cole feels when you do that?”
“I don’t know. He never says nothin’.”
“Mr. Walt...”
“You’re making my head hurt. I need to eat.”
“May I ask you a question?”
“No. I don’t like your questions.”
“Why are there no pictures of Cole on the walls? There have to be at least a hundred pictures in here and not one of Cole, your grandson.”
“What? Sure there is. There’s one right there.”
“Mr. Walt, that’s a picture of Jamie holding Cole when he was a baby. You can barely see Cole. He’s wrapped in a blanket. It must’ve been when Cole was born.”
“Yeah. Jamie was so proud of his boy.”
“Then why are there no photos of Cole?”
“Ah, that was Cora’s doing. That’s how she dealt with Jamie’s death. Every day she’d find a picture and up it went on the wall. She spent a fortune on frames. I couldn’t stop her. She wouldn’t listen. It was her way of grieving.”
“There are no photos of Cole’s mother, either.”
“Cora got rid of all those. She blamed Beth for Jamie’s death, for taking Jamie away from us. It wasn’t right, but Cora was out of her mind with grief.”
“Cole has no pictures of his mother?”
“I saved some before Cora could rip them up. I have them put away for Cole.”
Cole had been told at an early age not to mention his mother, that it would upset his grandmother. So Cole never asked questions, but he’d wondered so many times. And now Grandpa was saying he had saved some pictures. Cole had never seen them.
“That’s nice.”
“Yeah, I’m not heartless, you know.”
“Mr. Walt, I never said you were. I think you’ve been grieving all these years, too. But you and your wife forgot one important thing.”
“What?”
“That attic is like a shrine to Jamie. All his things are up there. It’s all saved and wrapped in plastic so it will last a lifetime. But Jamie left something much more valuable for you and your wife. He left a part of himself—his son. Cole is alive and breathing and needs much more attention than those relics in the attic.”
Cole thought he should just walk in, but again he didn’t. He seemed depleted of energy. No one had questioned his grandparents about Cole’s upbringing. They knew it was unusual, but no one intervened, except Miss Bertie. But no one listened to Miss Bertie. She was an eccentric character everyone dismissed.
Now this stranger was poking her nose into Chisholm business, into the Chisholm family. He didn’t need her to fight his battles. He was capable of doing that on his own. But a small part of him was cheering. Someone had noticed, and someone spoke up. But how much did it matter now? He was a grown man.
“Mr. Walt, are you crying?”
Cole stood up straight. He’d never seen his grandfather cry. He’d been a baby when Jamie had died, and his grandfather was good at keeping his emotions in check even when Grandma had passed on. Why was he crying now?
“I’m just hungry.”
“Mr. Walt...”
“Okay. We failed Cole. We really did. I tried to get Cora to see what we were doing was wrong. We needed to make a life for Cole, but she was fixated on Jamie and nothing got through to her. All she wanted was Jamie back, and there was nothing I could do about that. I was grieving, too. Cole—he just got left out. But he’s a strong man now, and I’m proud of him. And...”
“And what?”
“It wasn’t Cora. It was Jamie.”
“What was Jamie?”
“I thought Cora sent you and Zoe Grace, but it wasn’t Cora. It was Jamie. He doesn’t want me grieving. I should’ve figured that out. It was Jamie.”
“Mr. Walt, you’re not making any sense.”
Cole had heard enough. He slammed the door. “Grandpa, I’m home.”
“Cole, Cole, come here.” His grandfather met him in the doorway to the kitchen. “It wasn’t your grandmother. It was Jamie, your father.”
He glanced over Grandpa’s head to Ms. Bennett. Her dark eyes looked as confused as he was. But he knew what his grandpa was talking about.
He slipped out of his coat and hat and hung them in the utility room like he usually did, giving himself time before answering Grandpa.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes, Grandpa. I heard you.”
“I had it all mixed up.”
“You get a lot of things mixed up, but once again, neither Jamie nor Grandma sent Zoe from heaven.”
“Of course not. But he had something to do with Grace coming this way and running off the road near our house. And you can’t explain how Zoe Grace got on our front porch, either. I know how, and soon you’ll know, too.” Grandpa sat at the table with a smug expression.
“What’s Mr. Walt talking about?” Grace was still confused.
Cole took a long breath. “Grandpa’s under the impression that Grandma somehow brought Zoe to the house when you fell on the ice last night. Well, now he thinks it was Jamie. Divine intervention from above.”
She ran her hands up her arms. “That’s spooky.”
“I’m hungry. Let’s eat.” Grandpa spoke up.
Cole went to wash his hands, and Grace put the food on the table. He stared at the table covered with food. He pulled out his chair. “Are we celebrating something? This looks like a special meal.”
“Mr. Walt ordered it and told me how to make each thing. He wanted it like his wife makes.”
For the last three months, Grandpa hadn’t had much of an appetite. People brought food, and he ate a little and then put it in the refrigerator. Cole had to throw it out. Now he was hungry. What was up with the old man?
Zoe grew restless, waving her arms and whimpering. Grace got up and fixed her a bottle, and then she took her out of the high chair. “I’m going to put her down for a nap.”
“After I finish this coconut pie, I’m taking a nap, too.”
Grandpa was shoveling food in like it was his last meal. Maybe he’d just made the turn from grieving back to his old self. Cole really hoped that was the case. He’d also shaved and put on clean clothes. Cole had been trying to get him to do that for two days.
Grandpa got up and went into the den and turned on the TV. Loud.
Grace bounced Zoe up and down in her arms. “I don’t think Zoe can go to sleep with the TV that loud. Can I put her in one of the bedrooms?”
Cole walked into the den. Grandpa was already asleep. He picked up the remote control and turned down the volume. Grace settled Zoe in the playpen, and she went to sleep.
“Thank you.”
Cole got a cup of coffee and sat at the table, needing to talk to Ms. Bennett.
“Could we talk for a minute?” he asked as she came into the kitchen.
“Can we talk while I do the dishes?”
Cole helped her. “You know you don’t have to cook everything he asks for.”
“He’s lonely and grieving, and I couldn’t resist. After all, you’ve been very kind to m
e and so has Mr. Walt.”
Cole leaned against the counter. “You’re very good with him.”
She closed the dishwasher and set it. “I’m used to the elderly. I work with them every day. Sometimes the grumpiness is a way to deal with life.” She turned to face him. “I don’t get the part about Grandma or Jamie bringing Zoe to the house. But then again, I can’t explain how she got here. I had her in my right arm when I fell before I blacked out.”
“I guess we’ll never know, but she’s safe however she got here.” He poured another cup of coffee and sat at the table. “Lamar is going to work on your car as soon as he gets the parts. It will depend on how soon he can get them. He took your insurance information, and he’ll let us know.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll look into your sister’s case. But it’s a touchy situation, because detectives don’t react well to other detectives looking into their work.”
She sat facing him, her dark eyes huge in her face. The bruise on her forehead was already healing. She had a young look about her, but he knew her inner strength was much older and wiser.
“I really appreciate it. Maybe Mr. Walt’s ramblings are true. Maybe I slid off the road near your house for a reason.”
“Don’t go there, Ms. Bennett. Soon you’ll be back in Austin dealing with Joel Briggs and a custody battle. And, yes, you will have to go back and face him. You have to do this the legal way. For Zoe. And for yourself.”
“But a judge will give Zoe to her father. You know that and I know that.”
“Ms. Bennett, you have to prepare yourself for that fact.”
She jumped to her feet, anger flashing in her eyes.
“Sit down, Ms. Bennett.”
“Stop calling me Ms. Bennett.”
“Do you have another name?”
“Yes. Grace.”
He leaned back in his chair, watching her eyes blast him with more fire than he’d ever seen. “Okay. Grace.”
She sank into her chair. “You’re such...such a lawman.”
“That’s my job—to bring criminals to justice.”
“I’m not a criminal. I’m trying to save my niece.”
He leaned forward. “Then, first thing tomorrow you need to go into Horseshoe and see Gabe Garrison. He’s an attorney, and he will help you file a petition for custody of Zoe. That’s the first step. He’s a good attorney, and he’ll tell you exactly what you need to do. In the meantime I will do everything I can to find out what happened between your sister and Joel Briggs.”
She picked up a napkin from the table and squeezed it. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, and please, try to think sensibly about this. If Joel Briggs is guilty, he’s going down. You just have to be patient.”
“He’s a charmer. He knows how to work people, and the detective who worked the case was a big fan of his. I don’t see anything changing.”
“Do you know what the word patience means?”
She frowned at him, and he’d never seen anyone frown that pretty.
When she didn’t say anything, he added, “And another thing. When I came in, I could hear you and Grandpa talking.”
One dark eyebrow shot up. “You eavesdropped?”
“Yes,” he said without guilt. “I just want to make it clear that you are not to interfere in my life. I do not need a savior. I can take care of my own problems. I’ve been doing it since I was a child.”
She glanced at the photos on the walls. “So you’re okay with all of this?”
“I’ve learned to ignore it. My grandmother was not herself after she lost my father. It was the only way she could cope.”
“She’s not here anymore. Why not take them down?”
“The photos don’t bother me.”
“You’re lying.” She stared him straight in the eye, and he found it hard not to flinch. How could she get under his skin so easily? He was an expert at showing no emotions.
“This doesn’t concern you.” His phone pinged, and he reached for it in his pocket. “This is over. Do you understand?”
“Should I salute?”
They stared at each other in tense silence, and he swung away to answer his phone. The woman was getting under his skin like no one ever had. He’d dealt with hardened criminals, high-ranking officers in the military and on the police force, but one petite woman was about to make him break every rule he’d ever made.
CHAPTER SIX
GRACE GRITTED HER TEETH, walked into the den and sat on the sofa. Slowly, she counted to ten. That was her deal. If she took time to count to ten, she could calm down and not react out of anger. Not that she was angry. She was just...
What was she doing? Meddling in other people’s lives wasn’t like her. Yet, that’s what she did on a daily basis—keeping peace between elderly people and their children. It was a daily battle. This was different, though. She wasn’t at the retirement villa, and she wasn’t being paid to be here.
She drew a deep breath. She should go home and face her uncertain future—yet she couldn’t help but feel her chances of keeping Zoe were better if she worked with Cole. She had enough sense to recognize that.
“Don’t let him get to you.”
“Mr. Walt, I didn’t know you were awake.”
“I’d have to be six feet under not to hear you two.”
Grace didn’t think they were that loud, but then, she wasn’t paying attention to the volume of her voice, just the aggravation that Cole instilled in her.
“I’m sorry we woke you.”
“You didn’t wake me. When Cole turned down the TV, I woke up. The noise helps me sleep.”
“I’ll turn it back up,” she offered.
“No, then you’ll wake Zoe Grace. I don’t sleep much anyway.”
There was silence for a moment as Grace dealt with her thoughts. “I’m sorry I interfered in your life, Mr. Walt. I had no right.”
“Don’t worry your pretty head about that. I’m old, and I’ve got life’s track marks all over my old body. There ain’t much you can throw at me that I can’t handle. You didn’t say anything that I didn’t need to hear. For years everyone walked on eggshells around me and Cora, afraid they were going to say something that would upset us. You said exactly what everyone else should have said.”
“Mr. Walt...”
“No,” he interrupted her. “Don’t apologize. You’re right. Jamie gave us Cole, and we fed and clothed him and sent him to school, but we didn’t give him any emotional support. We weren’t there for him and...I...”
Grace didn’t interrupt, because Mr. Walt had to deal with his own emotions. “Cole grew up strong and tough, and I’m proud of everything he’s done with his life. Like my granddaddy used to say, he’s so tough he can pick his teeth with barbed wire. My Cole has a backbone of steel and ribs of iron. You’re never going to get anything past him, but you got his attention.”
“Mr. Walt, I don’t understand half the things you say, but that’s tough if you can pick your teeth with barbed wire. And I sincerely hope that underneath the steel and iron there is a heart.”
“You can bet your bloomers on it.”
Grace wasn’t betting her underwear on anything. In a few minutes Mr. Walt was sound asleep, snoring, blowing bubbles through his mouth. She stared at Zoe sleeping peacefully. Her face was turned sideways with a slight smile and her butt was stuck in the air. That’s the way she always slept. She was so precious, the only thing Grace had left of her sister.
What did the future hold? Heartache? Pain? She had no answers, just a heavy feeling in her chest. And her options were limited. Actually, she had only one option. In that moment she knew she would bet her bloomers on Cole Chisholm any day.
* * *
COLE WENT TO his room, sat at his desk and opened his laptop. Within minutes he was on the Austin Polic
e Department database searching for the Bennett-Briggs case. He downloaded pictures to his phone and reread Parker’s notes. After going through everything thoroughly, one thing became clear: Grace Bennett had lied to him.
“Damn!”
He didn’t want to make rash judgments because the case had a lot of holes in it and a lot of unanswered questions. The Brooke Bennett described in the case was not the person Grace had described.
His cell buzzed, and he reached for it on the desk.
“Hey, Cole. I finished my shift and ran into Tenney as he was leaving. He asked about SWAT, and I asked if there was any new evidence on the Bennett case. He said no and Parker didn’t see any need to investigate further.”
“Why not?”
“Parker’s confident with the preliminary autopsy of accidental death. But he’s going to wait until after Thanksgiving, when the full autopsy should be available.”
“Parker is a fan of Briggs’s and he’s buying in to his story without much resistance,” Cole said. “Briggs played football in Austin and made it big in the NFL—hometown hero and all.”
“Tenney was just venting about the case, and I just happened to be there. I don’t know anything else.”
“Grace Bennett lied to me.” From the time he had been with her he had her pegged as little Miss Sunshine, bringing joy to all, a do-gooder from her heart. There didn’t appear to be a dishonest bone in her body. Guess he was wrong.
“Don’t they all?”
“Not every woman is like Becky.” Every time Cole and Bo talked about women, Bo would inevitably bring up Becky’s name. She was Bo’s high school sweetheart, but she’d married someone else and Bo had never gotten over it.
“I didn’t say she was,” Bo said in a voice Cole knew well. He was getting irritated. “What’s Ms. Bennett like?”
Cole took a moment. He kept very little from his best friend. They’d shared many heartaches over the years, but something in him was holding back. “She’s nice.”
Bo laughed, and then asked, “Did you tell her that?”
“No, I didn’t tell her. I didn’t tell her much of anything.”
“So what she’s like?”