by Mary Manners
What would it take to drive away his own? Raising Scottie was more than he’d bargained for. The unexpected adoption of his nephew hadn’t even been so much as a blip on his radar a couple of years ago.
A few years ago he’d been dodging bullets in Afghanistan. Losing Craig and then Diana were the last things on his mind. With the dangerous missions during the course of his tour, he always imagined he’d be the first to go.
Who knew an out-of-the-blue medical diagnosis coupled with a drug raid gone bad would change all that and ultimately shorten Brayden’s final tour, bringing him home to a whole new world.
“Yes, I’m your mom and dad now, forever and ever.” Brayden used the hem of his T-shirt to wipe an orange smudge from Scottie’s cheek. “Did you finish that grilled cheese sandwich I made for you?”
“Uh huh. Except for the crust. I gave that to Thor.”
Brayden bet he did. Thor had been trained not to beg for food, but Scottie had undone that training with stealth-like ease.
Brayden reminded himself to pick his battles. Cast-off bread crusts weren’t one of them.
“And the tomato soup?”
“Yep. And my milk, too. Every drop.” Scottie pointed at his mouth as if the ring of chocolate milk that clung to his lips might prove the point.
“Good job, champ.”
“I love you, Uncle Brayden.” Scottie wrapped his arms around Brayden’s thighs, hugging tight. “To the moon and back.”
Brayden’s eyes stung with tears. He hoped Diana and Craig were somehow watching, and that they were pleased with his efforts and the way things were shaping up. Scottie’s lack of height reminded Brayden that the kid was only five years old. He had a lot of long years in the parenting department ahead of him.
“Right back atcha, champ.” Brayden scooped coffee-colored bangs from Scottie’s gray eyes. The kid could use a haircut. Brayden added the task to his ever-growing mental to-do list. “Now, about the lady...”
“Look, she’s crying.” Scottie shifted and jabbed a finger toward the hedges. Just beyond, the woman trembled in the grass, still babbling at the sky as her tears melded with rain. “I guess she really needs our help.”
“Affirmative.” Brayden felt an odd tug at the sight of her. What had happened to cause such brokenness? “I suppose we’d better launch the mission.”
“So I can come, too?”
“Sure. Four hands are better than two.”
“And if Thor tags along”—Scottie spied the dog’s paws as he used his fingers to carefully count—“we’ll have eight. That’s a lot.”
“It’s enough, for sure.” Brayden tossed Scottie a rain jacket from a hook near the door. “Come on, then, champ and bring your sidekick. There’s no time to waste. Let’s get to it.”
2
Korrie woke to sunlight streaming through the living room windows. She rubbed her eyes and glanced around the room. Walls the color of warm caramel and accented by a painfully-outdated wallpaper border assaulted her senses. The dark wood floor had not been refinished since the carpet it lay buried beneath was pulled up nearly two decades ago. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming. Where were the shelves that held her delicate collection of Lladro’s? Who had removed the custom-made blinds from the windows and taken her soft leather sofa?
Why was she sprawled over a couch with gaudy floral-patterned cushions and worn springs that squeaked in protest beneath her movements?
Then it all came crashing down—every hideous detail. She’d lost her beautiful condo and her prized possessions. She’d sold just about everything.
And what remained lay scattered outside across the cobblestone path leading to the cottage.
If it hadn’t been carried away by last night’s storm.
How had she slept through the mêlée? She must have collapsed from sheer exhaustion. The last thing she remembered was picking herself up from the rain-soaked lawn, her muscles screaming at even the slightest effort as tears swam, and winding her way toward the safety of the cottage. She’d broken her beloved top-of-the-line coffeemaker and soiled just about every garment in her wardrobe with one fell swoop.
She’d left the scattered mess and had managed to make it to shelter where she’d collapsed on the couch. She’d meant to rest only a minute and then get back to it, but the warmth had lulled her, and she’d closed her eyes against the weariness that had seeped into her bones.
That’s all she remembered. Well, almost all she remembered. Someone had called to her as she entered the cottage, but she was too weary to look back. It wasn’t Julie or Michael; she would have recognized their voices.
And there was a dog…big and lean with gray and black fur. He’d scratched at the door when she closed it in his face. When she’d failed to acknowledge him, he’d sat there, howling pitifully.
She’d fallen asleep to the sound of his whines mingled with gusts of wind and rain that lashed at the windows.
Yes, she’d slept through the storm, which meant her clothes had spent the night soaked in rain and mud while the rest of her things still waited to be unloaded from the Honda.
Worst of all, with the Keurig’s untimely slaughter, she had no coffee. Not a drop. None. Food she could live without, but coffee…it was essential to life. She closed her eyes and pressed a pair of fingers to each lid, literally forcing back the moisture that gathered there.
I refuse to cry. I will not cry. No tears, no tears, no tears.
OK, tears.
Korrie swiped them from her cheeks and rose from the couch. Her muscles shrieked in protest, and she stretched against a dull ache that had settled along the base of her spine. With a great deal of effort and a little stubborn pride, she made her way to the kitchen.
One box sat on the table; a lone soldier who’d made it through battle. She studied the bare kitchen countertops and searched through cabinets high and low, praying for a coffeemaker and just one bag of the brain-waking grounds to brew.
She found nothing. Not a single appliance or so much as a teaspoon of coffee.
Her groan shook the whitewashed cabinets. Not only would her morning be devoid of coffee, but once she gathered her clothes from the yard she’d have to figure out how to clean her soiled wardrobe on her own. She didn’t have the funds to take so many garments to a drycleaner. She barely had enough money for laundry detergent.
She hoped the cottage had a washer and dryer. She hadn’t seen one upon her arrival yesterday, but that didn’t mean much. Though the house was tiny, it still had square footage to explore. So many years had passed since the last time she’d stepped foot inside that she couldn’t recall the layout, and last night she hadn’t even made it past the living room.
Options sprinted through Korrie’s brain as she tugged open the door that led to the rear landing. The sweet scent of spring rushed in, along with the sound of a voice.
“Whoa, there.” The tone rang deep and startled, echoing the sudden sprint of her heart rate. “Hold up.”
Korrie squealed as a hand latched onto her shoulder. “Don’t touch me.”
“It’s OK. I’m not here to hurt you.” Softer now, soothing. He pulled his hand back. “I don’t want you to fall again.”
Hurt you…fall again?
Korrie spun on her heel and fled back to the safety of the cottage. She slammed the door and then backed away until her tailbone met with the table.
Was this one of Joe’s tricks? Had he hired someone to come after her in an attempt to shut her up?
When it all went south, she’d threatened legal action. Now that didn’t seem like such a good idea.
“I’m calling the police,” she warned.
“Hang on a minute.” The voice was muffled through the door. “I said I’m not here to hurt you. If you’ll give me a minute here…if you’ll just listen.”
“I’m dialing.” But she wasn’t. The cottage had no landline, and she’d left her cellphone in the car last night along with her purse.
“I’m your neighbor.
I live on the other side of the hedgerow. You might have seen my house.”
Korrie vaguely remembered spying the sprawling brick rancher with a wide wrap-around porch and impeccably-tended yard. It must be a recent build, because she didn’t recall it from previous visits. As she’d pulled up the cottage drive, there’d been a big, lean dog in the yard on the other side of the hedgerow and a little boy with dark hair wearing a bright red windbreaker. They were playing T-ball. The dog had howled a greeting—she remembered the sound as the same she’d heard through the door last night—and the boy had turned to her and offered an enthusiastic wave.
Though she’d been exhausted and hungry, and notably grappling with one of the foulest moods of her life, she’d waved back and even smiled a little. She’d been rewarded with a huge smile in return that made the day just a little bit brighter.
Now Korrie heard thrashing along the side of the cottage. A moment later the guy’s face appeared in the window over the sink. He stared at her as if she were a lab experiment gone awry. Short-cropped black hair framed gray eyes specked with flecks of gold that seemed to reflect the sunlight. His lips pursed thoughtfully as he placed a palm against the glass.
Korrie screamed.
“Oh, brother…Really?” He shook his head, his voice muffled through the pane. Something shiny and silver appeared in the window. One of those insulated go-cups that kept things—like freshly-brewed caffeine—warm for days on end. “I come in peace…bearing coffee.”
“Coffee?” Korrie teetered on the proverbial fence. One side held all her fears, the other side coffee.
“Hot. Fresh. Cream and sugar.” He waggled the cup. “Two whole packets.”
Korrie’s mouth watered. Sweet coffee. Hot coffee. She took a step toward the window, rubbing a chill that had settled along her arms.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“I’m friends with Julie and Michael. They might have mentioned they—and you—have neighbors.”
Had they? She’d been so distracted during her recent phone conversations with Julie that she couldn’t be sure.
“How good of friends?”
“Pretty good. Real good.”
Korrie pressed an index finger to each temple, thinking. “What’s Michael’s favorite hobby?”
“By all accounts, it’s more like a passion than a hobby, but he enjoys restoring cars. He’s got an ‘80 Camaro Z-28 in his garage as we speak. Does that help?”
Korrie had no idea what, exactly, was an ’80 Camaro Z-28. But she did know that old cars were a thing for Michael—third in line only after God and Julie. She turned back toward the living room and slanted a look through the bay window, out toward the farmhouse, as she considered the whole situation. She wished she could verify with Julie. Perhaps a smoke signal might get her sister headed this way?
Frenzied laughter erupted at the craziness in that line of thinking.
Get a grip, Korrie.
The guy looked harmless enough. His close-cropped dark hair said cop or military. Yes, definitely one of the two. But his smoky-gray eyes reminded her of a predatory wolf on the hunt for his next meal. Better safe than sorry.
“Leave the coffee on the landing,” she directed, with a tone of bravado that she did not feel. “And take three giant steps back.”
There was no sense in wasting a perfectly good cup of coffee. Her nerves actually screamed for it.
“Really?” Those gray eyes widened, incredulous. “Seriously? You want me to leave the coffee and back away?”
“That’s one hundred percent correct. I won’t open the door until you do.” She shook her head and jabbed a finger toward the hedgerow to drive the point home. “And I mean giant steps. I’m watching.”
Korrie waited. He disappeared from the window and she heard a shuffle of steps back toward the landing, followed by a thrashing through the overgrown grass. There was a brief thump of metal against concrete, then silence. She thought he might have gone away altogether. She mourned the lost coffee.
“I’m all the way back to the hedges,” came a muffled voice. “It’s safe to open the door. Cross my heart.”
Korrie envisioned that—the tough guy crossing his heart. That was enough to chase away the doubt and bring the slightest smile to her lips. The guy had patience, she’d give him that much.
And he’d brought her coffee.
“Did you leave the coffee on the landing?”
“Did you ask me to?”
“Yes.”
“Then see for yourself.”
She tugged on the door just enough to crack it and peek through. Good to his word, he’d placed the go-cup exactly where she’d directed and then retreated to the hedgerow. The metal cup sat there beside the welcome mat, shining beneath the sunshine like a rare and precious treasure.
She snatched the coffee and eyed him over the cup’s rim as she drew a long, satisfying gulp of the delectably-sweet, pleasantly warm brew.
When she came up for air she asked, “How did you know I needed coffee?”
“I saw you…last night. With the boxes. You dropped one of them, and the coffeemaker…” He used his hands to mime an explosion, complete with sound effects. “It didn’t end well at all.”
Ugh. Korrie cringed inside. That’s when she noticed the boxes stacked alongside the house, beneath the shelter of an awning. A quick appraisal of the side yard showed her scattered belongings had been cleared from the walkway, as well.
“Here.” He handed over a purse and her cellphone. “You really shouldn’t leave your personal things out in clear view for any passerby, especially overnight…in an unlocked car. Even a relatively safe and crime-free place like Hawkins Ridge can have its share of thugs.”
“Thanks for the four-one-one.” Korrie sifted through the contents of the purse. Everything seemed to be intact. Not that she had anything much worth taking. She’d cut up every credit card to her name. She was down to her last few dollars in cash. Her debit card might hold enough in reserve for some groceries and a couple of tanks of gas. It would be another week until her severance check from the realty firm cleared to add a small amount of padding to her checking account. “Who are you, besides Lifesaving Coffee Guy?”
“Brayden Cambridge. Like I told you, I live just across the way.” He motioned toward the hedgerow and beyond, to the rancher with the manicured lawn. “We’re neighbors.”
“Oh, right.” She nodded toward the boxes. “Did you do that…unload my car?”
“I was on my way to help you when you got up and ran into the house.” He shrugged. “You looked like you could use a hand, and when you never came back we got to it.”
“We?”
“Yes, my nephew and me. And Thor. He kept Scottie clear of the glass.”
“Thor…the dog?”
“Right again.”
“So you witnessed my epic meltdown?”
“Uh huh.” His grin widened appreciatively. “It was a doozy, for sure.”
“Ugh. Ouch.” She sighed. “I was…”
“No need to explain. We all have our moments.”
“And all of the clothes?” She studied the stacks, but didn’t see the one that had held the clothes. “Where might they be?”
“I gathered them up and tossed them back into their box. After I dropped Scottie at school this morning I carried them up to the farmhouse. Julie’s taking care of them for you.”
“Great. Perfect.” Yet Korrie’s tone said his actions were anything but. She had no desire to burden Julie any more than she already had. “I suppose I should say thank you.”
“You’re welcome. One more thing…” He delved a hand into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a key. “You really should find another place to hide your spare.”
“But how did you…?”
“Beneath the welcome mat is so cliché, and much too convenient for anyone looking to break in.” Tentatively, he stepped forward to hand the key to her. “You can never be too careful, even in a cozy little town
like Hawkins Ridge.”
Korrie took the key. She’d placed it there upon her arrival yesterday, not wanting to take any chances at being locked out of the cottage and having to call on Julie or Michael. She was notorious for forgetting her keys.
“What were you doing snooping around my door?”
~*~
Brayden watched her sapphire eyes widen with shock.
“How did you know the key was beneath the mat?” she asked. “And why do you care where I hide my spare key?”
“When I moved your stuff last night it was just instinct to check the door before I walked away. It was unlocked, so I found the key and locked it for you. It wasn’t any stretch of the imagination to look under the mat.” He thought of her passed out on the couch in the soft light of the side table lamp. Blonde hair had tumbled over the cushions while her hands fisted around a throw pillow, as if she warded off nightmares. “I wanted you to be safe while you were sleeping. You never know…”
“So you saw me sleeping?”
“It was kind of hard to miss you through that huge bay window looking into the living room.” His jaw tightened at the thought of her all alone with the door unlocked. When the storm had cleared the full moon lit up the night like a stage light. “If you’re going to sleep on the couch you really should think about getting some blinds.”
“What are you, some kind of detective…or a stalker?” She flinched at that last word and crossed her arms over her midsection. “Did Joe send you?”
“Who’s Joe?”
“Never mind.” She waved off the question. She had no desire to resurrect that whole disaster.
“I’m a cop.” Brayden pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open to his government-issued I.D. “With the Hawkins Ridge PD.”
“Oh.” She studied the card as if she was memorizing every detail for a final exam. “So that’s the connection with my brother-in-law.”
“Michael and I work the same shift, mostly.”
“Days?”
“That’s right.”
She checked the thin-strapped watch on her wrist. “It’s almost nine O’clock. So why aren’t you there today?”
