The Sergeant's Unexpected Family

by Carrie Nichols

  The untimely death of a colleague had convinced her not to put off finding Brody and losing her job had sealed the deal.

  Sighing, she held up the jeans, sticky with blood and who knew what else, and folded them. Those were her best ones, so she would try to salvage them. A childhood spent in the foster-care system had taught her to appreciate and take care of her possessions. Maybe the nurse would come back with pants that fit better than this shirt.

  Someone with a purposeful stride approached and Mary sat up straighter, pushing her shoulders back. She didn’t want to give the doctor any reason to change his mind about releasing her. She ached to hold Elliott close and reassure him—and herself—everything would be okay.

  * * *

  Brody paused for a second outside the curtained area. Mary was calling her baby his nephew, so did that mean she was his sister-in-law? If so, where was Roger? At their father’s funeral, Roger had introduced Mary, who had seemed reserved, but shyness wasn’t a crime. After the brief service he’d hoped to have a word with her, but she’d disappeared, and he hadn’t hung around either. What would he have said if he’d found her? Warn her against getting involved with his half brother and that nest of vipers Brody called relatives? That sort of discussion would’ve been in poor taste. But wasn’t that an apt description for his family?

  Inhaling, he pushed aside the curtain. “Mary?”

  She glanced up, and her mouth dropped open.

  What the...? For someone who’d insisted on contacting him, she didn’t look happy to see him. “I...uh...” He waved his hand in the direction he’d come. “They said...the nurse...she said it was okay to come back here.”

  “Yes. I’m dressed and decent. In a broad sense of the word, anyway.” She ended on a breathless laugh and tugged on the hem of a huge shirt that threatened to swallow her whole.

  “I got here as soon as I could.” He put her initial reaction down to embarrassment and approached the gurney where she sat, her bare, slender legs dangling off the side, her hands resting between her knees. Even in ill-fitting clothing, she made his breath hitch in his chest and had him thinking thoughts that were anything but brotherly.

  She blushed, drawing his attention to a gash above her eye. Even the injury didn’t detract from her beauty.

  “You probably don’t remember me. I didn’t realize they were going to call you to pick me up. When they brought us in, I was frightened and...” She trailed off, shrugged, then winced as if the movement or the thought was painful. “I don’t know anyone else here, and I panicked for my son.”

  “I’m glad they did. Where’s...?” He glanced around but saw no evidence of a baby, and his stomach somersaulted. Jan had told him they were releasing both, hadn’t she?

  His apprehension must’ve shown, because she reached out and brushed his arm with her fingertips. It was a simple gesture of reassurance, but her touch spread warmth across his chest.

  “They’ve assured me Elliott is fine. Not even a bruise. But I haven’t been able to get anyone to bring him to me. I just keep remembering him crying—” She sniffled, squeezing her eyes shut.

  Oh, God, not that. Anything but a woman turning on the waterworks. You’d think, having witnessed his mother’s histrionics during his childhood, he’d be immune. He clenched his jaw at the unwanted memory of his mother’s many tearful rants designed to get everyone around her to cave in to her demands. For all the good it had done, since nothing seemed to please her.

  He set his memories aside because Mary’s tears were genuine, not manufactured for effect.

  “Want me to go and see if I can get someone to bring him to you?” He was ready to march out there and demand—heck, he’d beg if he had to—and not stop until they brought Mary her son.

  She drew in a shaky breath. “The nurse said—”

  “If my patient gets any more popular, I may start handing out numbers like the deli on Saturday mornings.” Nurse Jan stepped into the treatment area, a pair of blue scrub pants folded over her arm and a uniformed deputy at her heels. “Of course, if all her visitors are this good-looking, who am I to complain?”

  “Glad to see you’re okay, ma’am.” The deputy sidestepped Jan, nodded to Mary then turned to Brody and stuck out his hand. “Wilson.”

  “Cooper.” Brody shook hands with his friend’s husband. He’d met Meg McBride, now Meg Cooper, when she’d come to the farm, asking if he had any extra eggs she could buy. When he learned she wanted them for the weekly community luncheon at the church, he’d donated them. And continued to. How many eggs could he eat, anyway?

  Deputy Riley Cooper didn’t act surprised to see him. Even for Loon Lake, the information about Mary and Elliott had spread quickly, unless... “Are you here to investigate the accident?”

  “No, that’s for the state troopers. My big mistake was stopping at Loon Lake General Store when I got off duty. Tavie voluntold me to go and see if I could salvage the personal belongings out of Ms. Carter’s car at the tow yard. Tavie figured my uniform would get me in. It did.” Riley’s mouth twisted upward on one side at the admission. “You were at the store when the hospital called?”

  Brody nodded, rolling his eyes. “And Tavie was having a double-duck fit because I left before giving her a full report.”

  The nurse patted Brody’s shoulder. “Ha. Tavie was on the phone demanding details before you even turned your key in the ignition.”

  Brody had been watching Mary, and his heart gave a quick thump at her sudden grin.

  “Sir? Were you able to get anything from my car?” Mary sobered and directed her question to Riley.

  “Yes, ma’am, I found a diaper bag and your purse, but I couldn’t unlatch the trunk. Must’ve been damaged by the impact. They frowned on me taking a crowbar to it until the investigation is completed.” Riley rested his hand on his duty belt.

  Mary frowned. “Investigation?”

  “Don’t worry, ma’am, just a formality.” Riley smiled. “The accident was a chain reaction. According to accident investigators and witnesses, you stopped in time but the guy behind you didn’t and pushed you into the car in front of you. Luckily no one sustained serious injury. A sudden change in wind direction blew smoke across the road from a smoldering wildfire and reduced visibility.”

  “I see. Thank you, Officer,” she said and gave Riley a wobbly smile.

  Brody unwrapped a toothpick and stuck it in his mouth, wishing that enchanting smile was directed at him. How crazy—as in, asking-for-trouble-crazy—was that?

  Riley nodded. “Tavie insisted I bring a brand-new car seat. You’re not supposed to use the old one after it’s been in an accident.”

  “But how did anyone know I even needed one?” Mary asked.

  Brody gave Jan a sideways glance.

  “Hey, she’s my mother-in-law. Ducking her calls is not an option, but I didn’t break any privacy laws when I mentioned you might need one,” Jan said and spread her arms to herd the men to the opening in the curtain. “All right, you two wait in the hall and let the poor woman finish dressing. Unlike the deli, our goods aren’t on display for all and sundry.”

  “C’mon, Wilson, I have the car seat and some of Ms. Carter’s things in the trunk of my patrol car. Help me get ’em.” Riley turned back to Mary before Jan could close the curtain. “Ma’am, my wife says if you need anything—anything at all—to let her know.”

  “That’s very kind of her. Thank you,” Mary replied.

  “I’ll get your things,” Brody said over his shoulder and fell into step beside Riley.

  “She your sister-in-law?” Riley asked as they marched through the ER toward the ambulance bay.

  “Who knows.” Brody shrugged but acid was burning a hole in his gut. Roger still hadn’t returned his call. He was trying to give his brother the benefit of the doubt but it was getting hard.

  He knew women found Roger hand
some and charming. And Roger had enough money to flash around if the first two didn’t work. He frowned. The woman back there didn’t look like a gold digger. Or are you letting those dark eyes and sweet mouth blind you to facts? And why should he care? Roger could look after himself. But it wasn’t Roger that bothered him—it was Mary. He hated the thought that Roger might have taken advantage of her. That was an absurd notion, since he barely knew the woman. But he did want to know what had happened between the two and why his brother wasn’t with her. Or why Mary apparently hadn’t tried to contact Roger.

  Riley cleared his throat. “It was just the two of them in the car. The trooper I talked to said it was a chain reaction. Not her fault. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. If that means anything to you.”

  “Thanks,” Brody said, but fault didn’t matter, nor did her character, since it looked like everyone expected him to pick up the pieces. Even though he hadn’t even met his nephew yet, Brody felt responsible for him, protective of him. And Mary, too. “I don’t know her, despite the connection she’s claiming through her son. I haven’t spoken with Roger since our father’s funeral. Not that I’ve ever been privy to his love life, thank God.”

  “Do you—” Riley paused to open the exit door and glanced around “—want me to run a check on her?”

  “Nah.” Brody’s chest tightened as the image of Mary’s dark, distress-filled eyes popped into his head. If they hadn’t brought her son to her by the time he got back, they’d have him to deal with. Something about this woman pulled at him, touched something he kept buried deep.

  After the nurse left with a promise to bring Elliott, Mary unfolded the scrubs, stuffed her legs into them and eased off the gurney to pull them up, careful not to jostle her pounding head too much. At least these pants fit better than the shirt, but she still hated Brody seeing her like this. She would’ve sworn the thoughtless comments from foster parents no longer had the power to wound, but in times of stress those voices from the past threatened her self-confidence.

  Even with her occasional blurry vision from the concussion, she’d noticed how Brody’s slim-fitting Western-stitched chambray shirt complemented his wide shoulders, and the rolled-up sleeves had revealed the corded muscles on his tanned forearms. His faded jeans had showcased his long legs. All that, and the scuffed boots, made Brody Wilson appear more cowboy than farmer. Having lived in Connecticut, she had no idea what Vermont farmers looked like. Maybe they were all just as mouthwatering as Brody.

  It was crazy, but she’d thought about him from time to time since that brief meeting at the funeral. At times she’d wondered if her imagination had conjured up those deep blue eyes fringed with sinfully long eyelashes or the sculpted cheekbones. Nope. If anything, her memory hadn’t done him justice and her guilt deepened. She’d had no business noticing Brody while she’d been dating his brother, even if the cracks had already begun to show in their fledgling relationship.

  She touched a hand to her brow. Plan your work and work your plan, Mary.

  She’d tracked him down so Elliott could connect with family. So much for her plan of getting to know Brody, making sure of his character, letting him get used to the idea of being an uncle to Elliott. She didn’t want or need romance of any kind in her life, no matter how tempting the depths of those blue eyes. Roger had fooled her with his charming façade, and she wasn’t about to jump into another relationship. She blamed herself for not realizing Roger was one of those men who enjoyed the pursuit but not so much being a couple. And definitely not being a father. More fool her if she turned around and got involved with Roger’s brother, of all people. She had a son to consider in all her decisions from this point forward.

  Pushing unproductive thoughts aside, she secured the drawstring at her waist. Too bad the deputy couldn’t get to her suitcase with her clothes. But at least with her purse and credit cards she could buy new clothes and pay for a motel room and anything she or Elliott needed. She’d received a severance package that included insurance for a short time and her natural tendency toward frugality ensured she had a decent bank balance to fall back on until she secured another job. She’d researched opportunities in the area and hoped to find something not too far away from Loon Lake and Elliott’s uncle.

  Rather than try to get back on the gurney, she perched on a hard plastic chair to put her socks and sneakers on. Maybe the faster she got dressed, the sooner they’d bring Elliott. But when she bent over to pull a sock on, her headed pounded and the room swayed. She straightened, fighting the dizziness.

  “Hey, hey, should you be up?” Brody dropped several bags and an empty car seat on the gurney. “Where’s Jan?”

  “Who?”

  “The nurse.” He glanced around the enclosed area as if he expected to find the missing nurse lurking in the corner.

  “She went to get Elliott. They tell me he’s okay, but I need to see for myself.” She wanted her son, needed to feel his reassuring warmth and sturdy little body. Except for when she’d been working, she’d rarely been separated from Elliott. Even at work, he’d been in the nursery her employer had on the premises, so she often spent breaks or lunches with him. “Why won’t they bring him to me?”

  Brody studied her for a moment, opened his mouth but shut it again. He bent and snagged the sock from her fingers. “Here, let me help you.”

  He crouched in front of her and lifted her foot to rest on his thigh.

  She drew in a sharp breath at the contact with his hard thigh muscles. Brody didn’t have the physique of a bodybuilder, but he was leanly fit, the kind of strength that came from physical labor, not hours in a gym.

  “You okay?” He peered up at her. “You look kinda peaked again.”

  “Yes... I’m...yes.” He was so close, the dark blue outer ring around his irises fascinated her.

  He gave her one last look, then arranged the sock over her toes and slipped it on, repeating the process with the other.

  The warmth from his thigh seeped into her foot. Her eyes stung and her throat clogged with emotion. When was the last time someone had treated her with such caring and kindness? Roger had given the appearance of solicitousness, but with the help of hindsight, she realized that’s all it had been—a façade. But this was real and what had started as an embarrassing situation had turned into something that felt intimate.

  “Mary?” He looked up. “Where are your shoes?”

  Pay attention to his words, not his lips. She scowled at the gold toes on her socks, but it was like trying to make sense of a spreadsheet written in Sanskrit. Why couldn’t she—Oh, yeah, she’d been attempting to put her socks and shoes on when Brody came in.

  “Never mind. I see them over there.” He stood and retrieved her sneakers from the other side of the gurney.

  Mary reached for the shoes. Despite looking like a pauper, she wasn’t someone who needed rescuing. She’d been taking care of herself for most of her twenty-six years. “I can do that.”

  He ignored her outstretched hand. “I got it.”

  He crouched again and put her sneakers on and tied the laces.

  “Thank you.” So much for all her plans to demonstrate how she had everything under control, how she wasn’t looking for charity, how she was a strong, twenty-first-century woman. Brody needed to see her as Elliott’s mother, not as someone he needed to take care of, or worse, pity. Never again would she allow anyone to cluck over her and murmur, “You poor thing,” as those caseworkers had done. She and Brody were close enough in age to be considered contemporaries, equals.

  “Someone’s been waiting to see you.” A nurse around Mary’s age came in carrying Elliott, who was babbling to a teddy bear clutched in his hands. He glanced up, and as soon as he spotted his mother, he burst into tears and reached for Mary.

  Brody rose to his full height of several inches over six feet and stepped aside, but Mary wasn’t aware of his presence as she reach
ed out to enfold Elliott in her arms. Ignoring her protesting muscles, she clasped onto his warmth, the stuffed animal crushed between their bodies, and rained kisses into his dark hair. Sobbing in earnest now, Elliott clung to her, his chubby fingers clenched around the soft flannel of her shirt. She rubbed his back in soothing strokes. “Shh, it’s okay, sweetie, Mommy’s here. Mommy’s got you.”

  He lifted his head, tears clinging to his lashes, and sucked in air in short sobbing bursts. She could still hear the crunching noise as cars collided, feel the impact, and he was so young he wouldn’t understand what had happened. “Mommy’s here, sweetie.”

  Mary’s brow furrowed as she spoke to the nurse over Elliott’s head. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

  “Physically he’s fine. He’s had quite a fright. I ’spect he’ll be emotional and clingy for a few days. He’s not at the stranger-anxiety stage yet, so he did well with us until now.” The nurse rubbed a hand over Elliott’s riot of dark curls. “He’s just happy to have his mama.”

  Brody watched the tearful reunion, his brows drawn together in a frightening glower. Her stomach clenched. Had she been wrong about him? Maybe he wasn’t the person she’d imagined him to be. She’d been wrong about Roger, so it shouldn’t be a surprise if she’d be wrong about Brody, too. Maybe this was a wasted trip.

  “Brody?” An elderly woman with a purple volunteer button pinned to her chest appeared outside the opening to the curtain. “There’s a phone call at the desk for you.”

  “For me?” He jerked his head back and turned to the newcomer. “Tell them I’ll be right there.”

  The woman left, and he glanced back to Mary. “Wait right here. I’ll go see what this is about.”