Falling for Home

by Jody Holford

  He gave an awkward smile when Danielle came to the table, her Cal’s uniform looking tighter than appropriate. The pocket of the pink apron over the yellow, collared dress was full of pencils and notepads. Her sandy brown hair was pulled up into a haphazard bun. She was still attractive but looked like the years hadn’t been kind to her. Having been the responder to most of her domestic abuse calls, he knew first hand that they hadn’t.

  “How you doing, sheriff?” she drawled, her eyes on Lucy.

  “I’m good, Danielle. You remember Lucy?”

  “Course I do. Hard to forget any of the Aarons sisters. How are you, Lucy?”

  “I’m well. You?” Lucy fidgeted with the menu, not meeting Danielle’s gaze.

  “Not bad, I suppose. Can I get you some drinks?”

  Danielle took their orders of cheeseburgers and fries with a couple of colas and left the table. Lucy was folding her napkin into tiny squares. He reached across the table and put his hand over hers. He didn’t like how good it felt to touch her—it would be so easy to get used to touching her. She hadn’t been home two full days yet and here he was, in over his head again. Drowning in Lucy. Good thing he knew how to swim.

  “You okay? Did you and Danielle have some sort of rivalry that never made the rumor mill?” he teased.

  Her lips firmed and she kept her hand still under his.

  “No. No rivalry. I’m fine. Their burgers better be as good as I remember, because I’m starving.”

  “I should have cooked for you. Next time?”

  He waited until she realized he was asking for another chance before he smiled. Thankfully, the smile that warmed her face actually met her eyes.

  “As long as you cook better than I do.”

  “You’d have to cook for me first so I’d have a frame of reference.”

  He stretched his legs under the table, essentially caging her feet between his just as Danielle came back with their sodas. She set them down with a tight smile, turned away, took a couple of steps, and then stopped.

  “Lucy,” she said in a quiet voice when she turned around.

  Lucy looked at her as something unspoken passed between the women, a look that made Alex’s insides feel like they’d been doused in ice water. Neither said anything, but Danielle’s face held a sadness he had not seen before—regret. Lucy bit her bottom lip. The bell over the door rang, and new customers laughed their way inside. Danielle nodded, even though nothing had been said, and went to say hello to the couple that had just entered.

  “What was that?” Alex asked, sitting up and leaning forward on his crossed arms. Lucy’s eyes looked close to watery, and she still held her bottom lip tightly in her teeth.

  “Lucy.”

  “Nothing. Sometimes the past is better off left alone.”

  Since he’d had the same thought earlier that evening, he let it go. She switched the topic to her photography and started telling him about the village she’d been staying in. Her face became animated when she spoke of her work, and he lost the thread of what she was saying by getting caught up in her smile, her voice, the way her eyes widened when she talked about the changes she had witnessed. He cringed inwardly when he realized he was hanging on her every word. He was a grown man, yet one day with her home and he reverted to a lovesick kid. Alex had dated plenty of women so he knew he should have a little more…game. But none of those women had been Lucy.

  Lucy waved her fingers in front of his face, laughing as she pulled him from his thoughts.

  “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, sheriff?”

  Danielle dropped their food off and asked if they needed anything else. She hesitated again and looked right at Lucy.

  “It would make me feel better if I apologized,” Danielle said quietly, leaning over the table slightly.

  “That’s a lousy reason to apologize for anything, isn’t it? To make yourself feel better,” Lucy answered, reaching for the ketchup.

  “Maybe it is. But it doesn’t make it any less true. I’m sorry, Lucy.”

  Lucy poured ketchup on her plate and then handed the bottle to Alex without meeting his eyes.

  “Thank you. Apology accepted,” Lucy finally replied, looking up at Danielle, her lips firmed and her eyes revealing nothing. Danielle nodded and left their bill on the table. Lucy bit into her burger and sighed in pleasure, distracting Alex for a moment while he watched her, trying to figure her out.

  The burger was delicious, but it was hard to swallow past the lump in her throat. Humiliation had a flavor of its own, and the rancid taste of it was making her regret taking such a large bite. Her eyes stung as she grabbed her pop to wash down her food.

  “Lucy,” Alex said her name as though she was a child that had just told a completely obvious fib.

  “Good burger. Just like I remember.”

  He bit into his and eyed her from across the table. She didn’t want to look down. She met his gaze and challenged him to push her further. She wondered if he thought she’d talk first. Like maybe he thought his gaze could break her like a perp.

  “I’m tougher than you,” she blurted. He laughed. Not at her, but still.

  “Are you coming up with ways to prove that?”

  “No.” She sulked, feeling stupid. “I just know you’re trying to get me to fess up, and it won’t happen. Your cop glare won’t work on me.”

  “My cop glare? Jesus, what kind of T.V. do you watch? If they say ‘fess up’ on the shows you’re watching, maybe you should rethink them,” he chortled, taking another bite of his burger.

  She did the same and they passed the rest of the meal engaged in an amusing staring contest. When they finished, he dropped some bills onto the table and they walked out of the diner to what Lucy was sure was the sound of the gossip mill hard at work. He opened the door for her, and she hopped up into his truck. Slipping behind the wheel, he turned the key in the ignition, gave her a sweet smile, and started to drive without a word.

  “Where are we going?” she asked when he turned right instead of left and they wound their way farther out of town.

  “Oh, you’re talking to me again?” he laughed.

  She frowned and went back to silence, using the opportunity to stare out the window. It didn’t matter where she had been—the beauty of Angel’s Lake always astounded her. There was a purity here that she hadn’t found anywhere else. She looked over at Alex when he parked in a makeshift, gravel parking lot. Getting out of the car before he could reach her side, she arched her eyebrows at him. He chuckled and took her hand, leading her down a narrow walkway. Just past a small footbridge, they walked through a cluster of heavily leaved trees, and on the other side of them, she lost a small piece of her heart. Or perhaps, found it.

  “Oh. Why didn’t you tell me to bring my camera?” she gasped.

  She felt like she was sitting in the middle of a colored Ansel Adams print. They were surrounded by trees as they stood at the base of the mountains, water rippling over rocks below them. She could hear the steady flow of it like background music. They stood on a worn foot deck that might have, at some point, been part of the bridge they had just stepped down from.

  “Sometimes you don’t need a camera for the picture to stay in your head,” he commented quietly, standing so his side was brushing hers, their fingers touching. “I don’t have any pictures of you, and I’ve never been able to get you out of my mind.”

  She turned to face him even though he stood staring at the water. She put her hand on his forearm. It was solid, like him, and warm. Also like him.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned so they were face-to-face.

  “Do you remember when we met? I was in the middle of a fist fight in sixth grade.”

  “I remember you being in a fight. I remember getting in the middle of it. I don’t remember who or why.”

  “It was Davey Morgan. He was a punk-ass bully who had been spouting off since I moved in with
my dad. One day he sucker punched me, and I let him have it.”

  “I hated that guy. Last I heard, he was living in a rundown shack selling homemade whiskey. Or drinking it,” she recollected with a frown.

  “Probably both. I tossed him in jail a few times a couple years ago for drunk and disorderly. Haven’t seen him for a long time, but I wouldn’t doubt the stories. Anyway,” he shrugged, pulled his hands out of his pockets and taking her hand before he continued. “You rushed over just as I was about to kick him in the ribs. I was so mad I couldn’t see anything else. But I saw you. You came right up to me, grabbed my wrist, and turned me to face you. You put your hand on my chest.”

  He placed it there now and her heart ricocheted in response. She stepped closer to him.

  “How do you remember this?”

  “Some things stay with you. Define you. Change something inside you. You leaned in really close and told me he wasn’t worth it. You kept your hand on my chest, just like this, looked me straight in the eye, and told me he wasn’t worth it but I was. That I was better than that. Better than him.”

  “Looks like I was a pretty good judge of character even at twelve,” she smiled, drawn in by the memory, by him.

  “Maybe. But it was the first time somebody had made me feel worth anything in so long. That sounds dramatic, but it’s true. You made me feel like I mattered.”

  “You did. You do.”

  “You told the principal that he’d called you a white-trash whore and I was defending your honor. I never even got suspended,” he reminded her.

  She smiled, not sure if she remembered authentically or because he was filling in the gaps for her.

  “Huh. Looks like I was a quick thinker, too,” she laughed.

  He put his hand on her arm and rubbed it up and down, sending shivers up her back despite the warmth of the evening. Linking his fingers with hers, he started walking back in the direction they had come.

  “You were. But the point is, that moment made me step back and think about who I was and who I wanted to be.”

  “That’s giving an awful lot of power to a twelve-year-old girl.”

  “Maybe. But from that moment on, I knew two things: one, I didn’t want to be a dickhead like Davey.”

  “And two?”

  He stopped at his truck. She could still hear the water and promised herself that she’d come back to take pictures.

  “And two, if I ever got the chance, I’d tell you how much that moment mattered to me. So I’m telling you now. And saying thank you, I guess.”

  “You’re welcome. Though I think your thank you is misplaced.”

  “See? No, it’s not. That’s part of why I’m telling you this.”

  He pulled her past the passenger side door and released her hand to open the tailgate. Before she could stop him, he picked her up under the arms and lifted her to sit on the truck so he could stand between her legs.

  “You’re worth it,” he said seriously, his hands resting on her thighs. They were mostly covered by her cargo shorts, but the gentle grip of his fingers still caused a nervous distraction in the pit of her stomach.

  “What?”

  “When I needed to hear it, you told me and you made sure I listened. You told me I mattered, and now I’m returning the favor and telling you right back that you matter. Not your name, or your job, or anything else. You.”

  She wasn’t sure why she felt like crying. He was in her space, his eyes locked on hers. His words took away some of the ache that she hadn’t realized was residing just under her ribcage.

  “I think you’re telling me wrong,” she whispered, trying to ignore Kate’s ever-present nagging voice that told her not to do this, not to go where she wanted to be. Not to mess something else up.

  “What?”

  She took his hand, brought it up to rest on her heart, and then covered his large hand with her small ones. His breathed hitched and his eyes widened. A tremor traveled up her spine and ended in her shoulders.

  “Say it again.”

  “For the love of God, Lucy. Are you trying to kill me?” he shook his head with a wry smile on his lips. She tightened her legs on his hips and waited.

  He leaned in, close enough that she could feel his breath, warm like the air around them.

  “You matter, Lucy Aarons. You’re worth something. Worth so much.”

  She tried to bite the inside of her cheek to stymie the tears, but she knew it didn’t quite work when she felt one slipping. His cupped her jaw with his free hand and began to close the small space between them.

  “So are you,” she whispered.

  As he kissed her, as she let herself tumble into the seduction and sweetness of his mouth on hers and ignored the voice telling her she was right and he was wrong. That he deserved better. For just this moment, she wanted what he said to be true. She pulled him closer and let herself believe it, for now.

  Chapter 5

  Most of the week was uneventful, which meant that by Friday, Alex was tired of flipping through the pile of paperwork that never seemed to get smaller on his desk. Though it was a fairly decent distraction from thinking about Lucy. Which he had done nonstop since she had returned home a week ago. He could hear Dolores’s music playing from the front desk outside his office. If she played another Britney Spears song, he was pretty sure his mood was going to turn “Toxic.”

  Dolores Edgemont was fifty-something going on fifteen. She’d been divorced twice and liked airing her dirty laundry the way other people liked getting massages. Personally, he could do without either. He didn’t want to hear about her last husband’s lack of performance any more than he wanted a stranger’s hands on him. He pushed back from his desk and went to the Keurig coffee maker that his dad had given him last Christmas.

  “Don’t be a cliché. Don’t drink shit coffee because it’s available,” his dad had grumbled around his smoker’s cough. They’d sat on opposite couches after sharing way too much Chinese food, as was their Christmas tradition.

  “And make sure to have it on hand when you drop by?” Alex had answered with an easy smile, earning a nod of agreement and a hearty laugh from Chuck Whitman.

  Once he’d gotten through the anger of his mom leaving and over the angst that sucked the soul of every teenager, he and his dad had gotten along pretty well. His dad was straight-up strict with him, but he was also fair. Chuck dropped in at least once a week to make sure his son was actually ‘pulling his weight,’ and possibly to flirt with Dolores a little.

  Alex pulled up the ancient blinds in his ten-by-twenty office, letting the sun shine on the dimly painted walls. Drumming on the windowsill while the aroma of chocolate-glazed-donut coffee infused the room—he didn’t give a damn about clichés—he watched his sleepy town wake up. At twelve, he had thought Angel’s Lake was the most boring place on earth; it didn’t even have a 7-11 or an arcade back then. He liked the routine and predictability of it just fine now.

  Across the street from the sheriff’s office was the long, U-shaped property that housed most of the town’s main businesses. Nick, of Adam’s Apples, the town grocer, was just opening up his store. The bakery and post office wouldn’t open until later in the morning. There was also a barber, a mini mart and two vacant stores. Compared to years ago, the town was booming

  “You okay sheriff?” Dolores asked, surprising him out of his thoughts. He looked over to see her helping herself to his coffee. Wearing a pair of skin-tight pants of unidentifiable material, she had her hair teased extra high today. She took a slow sip of his drink.

  “Help yourself.”

  “I’ll put another one in. You know I can’t resist this one, so serves you right for making it. You look like you’ve been up all night but not for a good reason,” she laughed, winking at him. With long blond hair and a syrupy sweet voice, she was attractive from a distance. If you didn’t get too close, you couldn’t see how leathery and worn her skin had become from spending too much time in a tanning bed. From where he was sta
nding, it was harder to see the piles of makeup she put on to cover the fact that she was aging and didn’t want to. Still, nothing in the world could hide her huge heart.

  “I’m fine, Dee. Just waiting for everyone to open their doors and see that everything was status quo last night.” The town’s teens had been remarkably quiet all week. Maybe his old man was right and the small vandalism wave had been the kids reveling in the freedom of summer that was fast approaching.

  She selected a new packet of coffee for the machine and slipped it in with a fresh cup underneath. “Rumor has it you were dining with Ms. Lucy Aarons the other night. Doesn’t sound so status quo to me,” she prodded, leaning a hip on his desk.

  “I’m guessing rumor’s name is Cal since it was his diner we went to. It was just dinner, and that’s all I’ll say about that. Don’t you have something to do besides bug me and steal my coffee?” he asked, going to the machine to make sure he actually got this cup.

  “Sure do, sugar. But nothing as fun as watching you blush when I bring up Lucy’s name,” she replied as the phone rang. “Oh, you’re actually saved by the bell!”

  He shook his head and hoped the day would stay slow, even if it meant putting up with Dolores’s nosey ways and shitty taste in music.

  If she hadn’t left the house when she did, Lucy would have been subjected to one of her mother’s surveys. She smiled remembering her timing of heading out the door as Kate had stumbled down the stairs, still in her Mickey Mouse pajamas.

  “Well, I need one of you girls to answer the questions so I can see if it’s a valid survey,” Julie had complained as Lucy grabbed her camera and purse, claiming she had something important to do.

  “Kate’s here. I’m sure she would be a better test subject. Besides, I had a date this week, so it seems like she should do it,” Lucy had said, with an evil grin aimed at her sister.

  “Huh? What should I do?” Kate had yawned loudly on her way to the coffee.

  “How do you please yourself? I’m writing a new book, How to Make Yourself Happy: In Every Way. It’s about—”