The little boy, dressed as Joseph, hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know, Miss Gloria. She seemed okay until we was walkin’ from the car, then she just sorta stopped and told us to sit on the bench—” The child’s face filled with distress as his words drifted off.
“Where’s your daddy?”
“He goes to da factowy at night time,” little Christi piped up, her angel halo bobbing as she spoke. “So’s we can buy Chwismas.”
Nadine moaned and clutched at her stomach, causing Gloria to fight down another wave of panic as she rushed to pull out her phone. Tara answered. “Hey,” Gloria blurted, her voice shaking. She swallowed once, working to get a grip and stay calm for the children. “Grab the deputy and get over here.” She glanced from side to side. “To the bench by the drinking fountain.”
Rodney watched his mother’s face wince in pain, and he looked to Gloria with fear in his eyes.
“Come as fast as you can,” she added in an urgent whisper. Then she hung up and dialed 911. “Don’t worry.” She soothed the children. “We’re going to get your mommy some help, okay?”
Three little heads nodded in unison, their faces full of confidence that Gloria wouldn’t let them or their mother down. Quickly and quietly, she gave the dispatcher information on the situation and her location.
As she held the phone to her ear, watching Nadine huff and puff in pain, she glanced toward the bandstand, willing Tara and Ned to appear through the falling snow. Biting her bottom lip, forcing herself to stay calm, she smiled at the children and patted their mother on the shoulder. This was not how she’d planned to approach Nadine and offer friendship.
About the time she heard a siren whine in the distance, Tara and Ned sprinted across the park toward them.
Tara took one look at the situation. “I’ll go direct the ambulance crew,” she said, then hurried away.
Ned, already in deputy mode, brushed wet snow off the bench and instructed the children to get up so their mother could lie down.
Although Nadine obeyed his command, she reached for her children, trying to sooth them. Her gaze flew to Ned, then to Gloria. “My kids—” she started, then cried out in pain, twisting to one side.
“Don’t worry one bit about them,” Gloria assured the woman, hefting the chubby-cheeked two-year-old Charles, onto her hip, and taking Christi by the hand. “We’ll practice their parts, and then I’ll take them home and put them to bed.”
The siren was close now. Nadine’s expression was incredulous as she blinked up at Gloria, but she was in no condition to argue. Two ETM’s jumped from the flashing ambulance and hurried along beside Tara, toward the group. Quickly, and in low voices, they assessed the situation. Another EMT joined them with a gurney, and before Nadine could offer an alternate plan for her children, they loaded her onto the stretcher and hurried back toward the ambulance.
“I’m going with her,” Tara called over her shoulder, as she trotted along beside the EMT’s. “Tell Justin and Lizzie!”
Gloria watched the back doors of the ambulance slam closed. The siren once again pierced the evening as the ambulance sped away, and she looked up at Ned. His gaze, however, was locked over her shoulder at the spectacle coming toward them. Gloria glanced over her shoulder, and her eyes widened. What appeared to be nearly every resident of Smithville flooded across the park toward them, trampling the fresh snow, their faces filled with alarm.
The color drained from Gloria’s face as she looked down at the silent children, realizing how frightened and cold they must be. Concern for the kids pierced the surreal moment, and she smiled confidently. “Your momma is going to be just fine. They’ll take good care of her.” She looked to Ned for support. “Shall we go to the practice now?”
The children appeared unsure as they eyed the mob emerging through the snow, but Ned took Rodney’s hand. “This is the dress rehearsal,” he said, his voice sounding upbeat. “You d—don’t want to miss that. Let’s hurry!” And with that, the deputy took off at a brisk pace.
Understanding that a quick walk would warm up the children, Gloria hurried to keep up. Ned’s confident manner split the alarmed crowd like the red sea, and Gloria followed in his wake, keeping a tight hold on the children. Questions flew from the throng, but Ned kept the little group on a course for the bandstand.
* * *
Two hours later, Nadine’s children were tucked up snugly in their beds. Gloria tiptoed backwards from Charlie’s bedroom, keeping one eye on the crib. When the door clicked closed she puffed out a sigh of relief, her arms drooping to her sides. They were sweet, well-behaved children, but three kids were a handful. Feeling tired, she headed to the kitchen, where she could hear Ned on his phone.
As she passed the tidy living room, she spotted a Christmas tree in one corner, covered with handmade ornaments. She paused to admire the tree, noticing that most, if not all, of the decorations, had been made by the children. The sight warmed her heart, reminding her that her own childhood Christmases had been much different. Most years her mother had not even bothered to put up a tree. Shaking off the sad thoughts, she turned toward the kitchen.
“Well, I’m glad she’s okay. D—Don’t you worry about the kids,” Ned said into his phone. “Gloria and I will stay—until your m—momma gets to town. You concentrate on getting that new baby here.”
Pulling out a chair at the small kitchen table, feeling both relieved and surreal, Gloria plopped down across from the deputy. Was she actually sitting in Nadine’s kitchen? All she’d had to do was consider being friendly and the next thing she knew, wham! She was in way over her head. “I should watch what I wish for,” she muttered under her breath.
* * *
Ned hung up his phone and tucked it in his pocket. “What did you say?”
She shrugged off his question. “How’s Nadine?”
Robert says she and the baby are okay. The baby is just coming a little early. Things are moving fast so it won’t be long now.”
“That’s a relief.” Gloria sighed.
Watching her from across the table, Ned couldn’t help but contemplate how beautiful Gloria was. Her cheeks were still pink from the cold, and her hair winked and shone in the light. And not only that, he thought, she was generous and kind and smart. How many women would step up the way Gloria had, especially after she’d been treated so badly? “You’re amazing. You know th—that?”
Still thinking about Nadine and the impending arrival of her new baby, Gloria was surprised by Ned’s announcement. “What?” She focused on the man across the table. “How do you figure that?”
“Look at you,” he said. “Nadine has been nothing but mean to you, and yet here you are, treating her like family.”
“You’re here too,” she said as she glanced away, her cheeks turning even pinker under her freckles.
“It’s my job,” he said flatly.
Silence fell between them as each considered their part in the situation.
Finally, Gloria brushed her bangs back from her face. “I just did what anyone would do in that situation.”
He scoffed under his breath, but decided to let the topic rest. “You can go home if you want to, I’ll w—wait for Robert’s mother to get here.”
“What about your job?” she asked, motioning toward town.
“The sheriff took over at t—ten, I’m off the clock.”
“Oh,” she said, staring down at her hands. Then she looked up and squared her shoulders. “I told Nadine I’d take care of her kids. It wouldn’t feel right to leave.”
He shook his head, amazed yet again, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Fine by me.”
Wind rattled the window over the sink, but neither commented on the storm. Gloria squirmed in her chair, then stood and pushed up the sleeves of her sweater. “I see a coffee pot, would you like a cup?”
“Sure.” Ned shrugged.
Opening cupboard doors, looking for coffee, Gloria appeared to be contented to have something to do. “Do you work t
omorrow?” he asked, breaking the silence in the room.
She shook her head as she scooped coffee grounds into the machine. “No, the spa is closed until after Christmas.”
He considered her answer.
Filling the coffee pot with water, Gloria glanced at him over her shoulder. “Too bad you can’t shut the town down to take a week off.”
He chuckled. “I g—guess so.”
When the machine was chugging away, dripping fragrant coffee into the pot, Gloria returned to the table and leaned on the back of her chair. “You have a beautiful singing voice. What made you think of singing carols on the walk to the car?”
Ned blushed and fidgeted with the zipper on his uniform coat. “Oh… I just figured… I wanted to d—distract the kids.”
Gloria smiled. “Well, it worked. They loved it. I think they nearly forgot about their mom. I’d heard that when people who have a stutter sing, they—” Her words stopped short.
He flinched at her words, but he wasn’t offended at her reference. “It’s true. S—something about singing m—makes a stutter fall away.”
“I’m sorry,” she floundered, worried that she’d upset him. “I didn’t… I mean I don’t care if…”
Raising one hand to stop her, he met her eye. “I’m not offended, Gloria; you’re fine.” But what he really wanted to say was that she had no idea how much music played a part in his life.
“Has it always been like that for you?” she asked, curious about her newest friend.
“As long as I can remember.” He shrugged.
“That’s so interesting.”
As the conversation lagged once again, Ned wished he could confide all his secrets to Gloria, including the biggest one, that he’d been writing her love letters. But he’d lived a double life for so long, in so many ways, that he had no idea how to bridge the divide.
The coffee machine beeped, and Gloria moved back to the counter.
As she filled two mugs with steaming brew, she chanced a glance his direction. The aroma of the coffee swirled around her, and combined with the storm raging outside, Ned could feel the conflict that was Gloria, larger than ever.
“Sugar?” she asked. “Or, I think I saw some milk in the fridge.”
“Black is good.”
She lifted a mug and extended it toward him.
Careful not to touch her fingers, he took the cup and thanked her.
She headed to the fridge in search of milk. “I can’t drink black coffee,” she said, reaching for the milk jug. “Makes my eyes water.”
“My d—daddy says it will put hair on your chest.”
Gloria paused with the jug in her hand and her eyebrows up. “Yet another reason to add milk.”
“I suppose so.” He chuckled, lifting his mug for a tentative sip. But visions of Gloria’s chest floated before his eyes, so he lowered the cup to the tabletop and stood.
She poured milk into her cup, then spooned in a teaspoon of sugar from the canister on the counter.
When she passed him to return the milk to the fridge, she grinned, causing his heart to skip a beat, then pick up speed. He knew she considered him a friend, and he had to find a way to change that. Because the feelings he had for her were only getting stronger.
Chapter Ten
Her coffee mug clinked against a plate as Gloria placed it in the sink. Ned reached around her to put his mug next to hers, bringing him close enough to pick up the floral scent of her hair. It was all he could do not to lift a strand and bring it to his nose, then slip his fingers into the hair behind her ear.
Gloria froze, picking up on his thoughts. “I’m going to wash these dishes,” she said as if to create a distraction. Lifting a plate from the sink, she placed it on the counter, then reached for the rest of the dirty cups and silverware. “It looks like Nadine and the kids hurried out for practice right after dinner.”
Ned reached out to stop her hand, now holding his coffee mug. “You don’t need to do that.”
She looked up, finding him dangerously close, and her eyes locked onto his. For a moment she appeared to be lost, searching his face for a clue as to what had shifted and how she should feel about it. This whole evening must have caught her off guard, he reasoned, and she was struggling to keep up.
“I’m serious; you’ve done enough,” he reiterated, his eyes penetrating hers, searching her thoughts. “You m—must be tired. If I know you, and I think I d—do, you’ve been working all day on some p—project or other.” Irritated that his stutter worsened when he was intense, he worked to keep a mild expression on his face. That last thing he wanted to do was startle her. But then he was standing there with her hand in his, the mug still frozen in mid-air over the sink. Being this close to her was very new, and a change for the better. He didn’t want to let it go.
“I…” she started, but drawn in, her expression softened, and she lost her train of thought. With a shake, she regained control. “I don’t have anything else to do. I may as well help out.”
Ned could think of about a hundred things she could do rather than wash dirty dishes, but he wasn’t sure how to cross the gap from friend to lover. Even though she was standing close enough to kiss, the distance across the breach felt as vast as ever. How should he approach without causing her to run?
What if she knew he had been the one writing the letters? Would she be happy? Or would she be upset, having hoped that the letters were written by someone sophisticated, someone who communicated better?
Gloria turned away, tugging at her wrist, to twist on the tap, then squeezed dish soap into the sink. Methodically, clinking dishes as she went, she returned the dirty dishes one at a time into the suds. Still standing far too close, but not wanting to move away, he watched her every move, as if it were a dance.
* * *
Gloria could practically hear Ned’s heart beating; he was standing so close. What was he thinking? They’d formed a solid friendship, and now, if her instincts we right, he appeared to be crossing the friendship line. Had that been his intention all along? Was she so stupid that she’d let her guard slip and hadn’t seen that he just wanted to get her in bed? What was it about her that made men think she was fair game?
Scrubbing at a stubborn piece of food on a plate, she frowned.
Ned backed up half a step, picking up on her discomfort. “What’s wrong?”
The plate was clean, but she kept scrubbing anyway.
“Gloria?” He said her name more like a quiet demand than a question. She quit scrubbing the dish but didn’t look up.
He waited, and the silence in the small kitchen was deafening. Finally, Gloria met his eye. Ned grinned an easy smile. “I’ll dry.” With that, he snatched up the dishtowel hanging on the oven door and reached for the plate.
She regarded him through narrowed eyes, trying to read his intent. He felt like the same old Ned; maybe she’d been wrong. With a shrug, she rinsed the plate and handed it to him. Her instincts had led her astray before. Crap, she’d never been able to tell when a man cared about her.
Ned dried the plate and reached up to put it in the cupboard. Glancing back to Gloria, he caught her watching him, so he offered a reassuring, friendly grin.
“Damn,” she thought, turning her attention back to the dishes. The man really was dangerously good looking. Yet, here she stood with him in Nadine’s kitchen. The one woman she wanted to show she had changed. She had to prove to Nadine, and the other wives in town, that she wasn’t out to get a man. She needed to remember that, no matter how gorgeous Ned was. Besides, she valued his friendship far too much to mess it up. If she was capable of managing any type of relationship with a man, she wanted to be Ned’s friend.
Rinsing a plastic cup, she handed it off to him, and her eye caught his. Something in the depths of his gaze snagged her attention, and she couldn’t look away. What was he trying to tell her?
“I’m firsty,” Christi’s tiny voice said from the doorway.
The cup dropped to the sink
as both Ned and Gloria jerked their hands apart, both jumping back as they turned toward the little girl.
Christi stood in her pajamas, her eyes wide. “I need a dwink.”
Ned was the first to spring into action. “I’ll get you a d—drink, sweetheart. Do you want water or milk?”
“Miwk,” she said. Her little face was serious as her eyes bounced from Ned to Gloria and back.
Reaching into the cupboard by the sink, he retrieved a child’s sippy-cup and lid, then headed toward the fridge. For a moment he juggled the cup and lid to open the door and take out the milk, but he managed to make it to the table and fill the cup half full. Tossing a grin to Gloria, as if to say ‘I got this’, he twisted the cap onto the cup.
Christi padded across the room and reached for the cup.
Ned squatted down to eye level and offered her his trademark grin. “Here you go d—darlin’.”
The child gave him a serious once over as she took the cup, then tipped it up to drink. Unfortunately, when the cup reached her mouth, the lid came off, and milk spilled all down the front of the little girl’s chin, neck, and footy pajamas.
Ned gasped and jumped back to miss the torrent of milk splashing across the floor.
“Oh dear!” Gloria cried, grabbing the towel off the counter and hurrying to the little girl’s side. “Did the lid come off?” Her eyes sprung to Ned’s, and she felt instantly silly for asking the obvious, so she turned back to the little girl. “Of course, it did. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Ned floundered, “I didn’t m—mean to— I’m so s—sorry—”
Little Christi glared up at him, her expression clearly stating that she considered the man to be a complete jerk. Milk dripped onto the floor as she stood in a widening puddle. Her fuzzy pink pajamas and even her hair were soaked in milk.
Hometown Series Box Set Page 91
