Why had she come home to face the past instead of starting fresh somewhere new? And a town where the sun shone most of the year sounded perfect. He knew firsthand time couldn’t erase the stink from some places, which was why he’d put New Jersey behind him.
Poughkeepsie had once been his fresh start.
“Come here, Jake.” Riley finally let up her death grip on her nephew. “Come meet your cousin Brian.”
Jake dutifully stepped forward and extended a gentlemanly hand. “I’m Jake.”
Brian shook, looking amused.
“Where are the ducks, Mommy?” Camille wanted to know. “You said there were ducks. Can I go see them?”
“I’ll take you down to the pond in a minute.” Riley glanced around and spotted him. “Scott.”
She hadn’t expected to see him, he could tell, but her smile flashed fast and real. He shook off the last thought of anything that was unworthy of a man greeting his friend’s long-absent wife and met her halfway.
“Welcome home” was all he had a chance to say before she was taking his hands and leaning up on tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He inclined his head toward the garage. “Pickup decided not to show up for work today. I dropped by to give Brian a hand.”
“Come here, kids. Come meet…” She hesitated, shooting him a quirky look, then said, “Uncle Scott.”
Scott managed a smile. Uncle worked for him. Gave him a proper place in their lives, a place with clear-cut boundaries. His own upbringing hadn’t prepared him for the reality of loving families, so he learned on the fly.
“Hey, you guys have grown up since the last time I saw you. At first I thought you were Brian’s friends from college.”
That scored him a few points, with Camille, at least. She giggled, gifting him with a beaming smile before bolting away to see what was around the side of the house. Jake hung close to Riley and eyed him warily. Or protectively, Scott decided.
“There’s a problem with the truck?” Riley asked.
“Don’t worry, Aunt Riley,” Brian said quickly. “Scott fixed it, and I was just headed down to load the hay.”
Riley didn’t blink, but Scott got the impression she caught pretty much everything Brian hadn’t said. Giving Scott’s hands a squeeze, she released her grip and mouthed the words Thank you while turning toward Brian.
“Get going, then,” she told her nephew. “Don’t let us keep you. We’re going to take our time unloading our stuff and getting settled.”
Brian looked ready to bolt, but before he could manage a getaway, Riley asked, “Where are you staying?”
“I moved my stuff over the garage.”
She nodded thoughtfully, not bothering to hide a wistful smile. “My best arguments didn’t change your mind, hmm?”
The kid didn’t meet her gaze. “Well, you know… It’s your house and all.”
Riley chuckled. Stepping forward, she gave him another quick hug. “I do know. You’re older now, and you like your independence. Just promise me you’ll pop in now and then.”
Brian nodded, and Scott guessed the kid would be showing up whenever he got hungry.
“You want some help?” Brian asked.
Riley shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks. If you’ve got to get hay, then the horses win. We don’t have too much to unload. Just enough to keep us going until the moving company drops off our boxes. There weren’t too many of those, either. The Angelica family travels light.”
She sounded all breezy, but Scott didn’t miss the subtext that seemed to suggest that traveling from her home was a skill she could have lived without.
“Hey, can the kids come?” Brian asked. “We can get some corn to feed the ducks after I’m done with the hay.”
“You’re just loading?” Riley asked.
“Please, Mommy.” Camille circled Riley on those wheeled sneakers before Brian even got a chance to reply. “I want to feed the ducks with my cousin.”
“Your cousin’s name is Brian.”
“I want to go with Brian. Jakie, you want to go, too, don’t you?” Camille gave her brother a sly look, trying to implicate him in her efforts.
This twin was a total live wire, Scott decided, and for a moment, he thought her brother might resist on principle. But Jake finally nodded, a willing accomplice.
“I’m just loading,” Brian said. “They can help me bale.”
“Okay, but you two ride in the cab and share the seat belt. Got that?” Riley knelt down so she was eye level with her twins. “You won’t be going out on the road, but it gets bumpy riding down to the barn. It’s really important that you listen to what Brian says and don’t wander off. Okay?”
Both kids nodded. Riley gave them each a quick kiss, then said to Brian, “They haven’t had being-around-horses 101 yet. They can help you bale, but that’s it.” She patted the cell phone attached to her waist. “Any problems and you call. I’ll come down and get them. Got it?”
Brian placed a hand on each twin’s shoulder, clearly eager to prove his trustworthiness. “No problem, Aunt Riley.”
She said, “Have fun, then, and no fighting,” but the words were barely out of her mouth before the twins were chasing Brian to the garage.
Riley watched thoughtfully as they clambered into the cab, and Brian made a dramatic display of strapping in the kids. Then he fired up the engine and drove out of the garage, him and his excited passengers waving as they passed.
Riley chuckled. “That poor kid doesn’t have a clue what he’s in for. The top of his head’s going to blow off. Camille never stops talking.”
“They’re a handful.” That wasn’t a question.
She rolled her eyes. “High energy. I don’t know who they take after.”
She looked serious, and Scott bit back a smile. He knew exactly who those kids took after. He’d never seen Riley do anything at less than sixty miles an hour.
“Brian can handle it,” he said. “He’s looking for ways to impress you so you’ll know how much you still need him.”
“Is he, now?”
Scott nodded.
“That’s pretty ironic considering I couldn’t have done the past two years without him.” She stared after the pickup as it made its way down the dirt drive toward the barn. “I’m impressed by how responsible he’s been. I’d have had to sell the place or…”
Come home.
She didn’t have to finish that thought.
“You’re ready to be back now?” The question was out of his mouth before he had a chance to assess whether or not he was getting too personal. He was. This wasn’t his best buddy, Mike, but Mike’s wife. And she looked so vulnerable standing there.
He knew the look, just as he knew the struggle to master unwanted feelings and take a step forward. He hadn’t missed how she didn’t seem too eager to get inside the house.
“You’ve been helping out Brian a lot?” she asked.
“Here and there. When he comes up against something unexpected.”
She didn’t believe him. Scott wasn’t sure if his training as a vice cop gave him the edge, or if listening to Mike talk about her all these years gave him an advantage, but he didn’t have any trouble reading her.
“It’s mutual,” he reassured her. “Brian always helps me out when I need him at Renaissance. He gets the volunteer hours for school, so it’s win-win. I mentioned that I’ve had a crew of the Renaissance kids dealing with the yard. They appreciate a steady landscaping gig.”
She nodded, sending glossy blond curls tumbling over her shoulders. “The place looks great.”
Scott glanced around the yard of the farmhouse, which was situated at the very front end of twenty-five acres, close to the road. Riley was right. The hedges around the house and two-story garage were neatly trimmed, and bright annuals lined the circular drive. The place could have been professionally landscaped, and Scott felt pride. Not of himself but of the street kids who’d earn
ed a place on the landscaping crew.
“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”
Riley nodded. “I know Brian appreciates the help, too. Dealing with the yard during the summer is a lot to ask on top of the horses.”
Scott didn’t contradict her, although he knew Brian hadn’t ever taken summer classes so the additional workload wouldn’t have killed him and would have saved Riley some money. But Scott had been happy to put together a crew that had earned the trust and privilege of being employed for fair wages.
Those opportunities didn’t come along easily for former gang members.
Renaissance was a fresh-start program designed to keep inner-city teens off the streets. It began as a Poughkeepsie Police Department program over ten years ago, and Scott had been on board ever since, helping at-risk kids break away from gangs or avoid them altogether. The programs offered kids more productive things to do like getting through school and earning wages for hard work. Things that helped kids build self-esteem and earn the respect of the community.
The program volunteers provided encouraging role models and helped these kids realize they could live the kind of lives that didn’t involve gangs, drugs and prison.
Scott thought Riley had been particularly decent to allow the Renaissance kids to come and work on the farm, considering Mike had been killed for his work against a local gang….
“So tell me what’s new with you?” she asked.
“Nothing much since we talked, but thanks for asking.”
“Nothing at all?”
Scott knew exactly what Riley was avoiding so he obliged. “Chief Levering got another civic award. They had a luncheon to roast him.”
“Oh, how nice.”
The chief hadn’t thought so, but Scott kept that to himself. “And we got a local cosmetic surgeon to sit on the Renaissance board of trustees. He’s been offering free tattoo removal services to the kids.”
“Wow. Good for you. That’s quite a coup.”
Scott nodded. “Rosie warned everyone not to bombard you until you got settled in.”
“Did she? Probably afraid they’ll scare us off.”
“Probably. She and Joe have missed you.”
“I know,” Riley said softly.
“And the pickup broke down, but we got it running.”
She finally met his gaze, laughter sparkling in her eyes. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I hoped to keep you talking so I could avoid unpacking.”
“Figured that part out.”
She gave an exaggerated sigh. “It was worth a shot.”
Scott gave an equally exaggerated sigh, and she laughed, a sound that rippled through the sunny quiet like bells in the wind. Riley was easy to be around. He’d always loved—no, liked that about her.
“Want some help unloading your things?” he asked.
“Only if it’s no trouble. There’s not really that much.”
Scott stared down at her, recognized the strong woman who’d picked up the pieces and returned home to get on with life. But he also glimpsed so much vulnerability in the shadows beneath her eyes, the unaccustomed fragility. He had the wild urge to be the guy to step in and take away her burden, let her rest her head on his shoulder. So not appropriate.
Long before Mike’s death, Scott had made a promise to watch over Mike’s family if anything ever went south on the streets.
It had been the promise of one partner to another.
It had been the promise of a friend.
Helping Riley and the kids had been easy when they were in Florida. Keeping an eye on the farm. Giving Brian a hand. But now they were home. Scott would have to figure out how best to keep his promise without losing his head. He wouldn’t do that to Mike.
With a newfound resolve, Scott anchored himself to his purpose. This was a job he was trained for, and he kept that thought in mind as he held her sparkling gaze.
“No,” he said, and he meant it. “It’s no trouble at all.”
CHAPTER THREE
RILEY CRADLED THE PHONE against her shoulder and cast a panicked glance at the kitchen table, where bread crusts, half-eaten carrots and browning apple slices still graced the kids’ lunch plates. The past weeks since arriving back in Pleasant Valley had been hectic to say the least. “I can be there in forty minutes, Max. Will that work?”
“If that’s the best you got, darling,” Max shot back. “This is about to go down, so get moving or you’ll miss the action.”
“On my way.” Riley disconnected and waited impatiently for a dial tone. Then she called her mother-in-law, hoping—no, praying—Rosie would be available to watch the kids.
“Of course, dear. No problem,” Rosie said.
“You’re a lifesaver.” Riley hung up, taking her first real breath.
She still cradled the receiver against her shoulder while snatching plates from the table. Tipping the remains into the trash, she put the plates in the dishwasher and called, “Code Tasmanian Devil. Use the bathroom and grab your things. Pronto.”
Code Tasmanian Devil relayed that Mommy had been called into work, and they all needed to be out the door with fire-drill speed.
Excited shouts echoed from the farthest reaches of the house, and Riley plunked down the telephone receiver in its base, grateful the kids were still young enough to view rushing out the door as an adventure.
She wanted to brush her teeth, but decided not to take the time; gum would have to suffice. Sailing into the foyer, she snatched up the briefcase she kept beneath the antique bench for such speedy exits.
Recorder?
Check.
Camera?
Check.
Laptop?
Check.
Everything a reporter needed to get the scoop on breaking news. If she got out the door and to Hazard Creek in time.
“How are you guys coming?” she asked as Camille wheeled around the corner, backpack hanging from one shoulder.
Riley pressed a quick kiss to the top of her silky head, smiling at the haphazard ponytail.
“Good girl. Your hair looks lovely. Is that what you were doing in your room?”
Camille nodded, clearly pleased by the praise. “I’m going to do my nails at Grandma and Grandpa’s.”
“Oh, a manicure. Can’t wait to see. Jake, where are you?”
“Coming.” He appeared in the hallway in front of his room, hanging on to a CD and looking surly.
This one obviously missed the memo about the adventure and had decided he didn’t want to be rushed today. Or maybe he just wasn’t in the mood to cooperate. Riley didn’t know yet.
“Where’s your backpack?”
“In my room.”
“Go get it, Jake. Camille’s already in the car.”
Their lives had degenerated into bags packed and ready for action. Hers with everything she needed to cover a story, the kids’ with activities for Grandma’s house, along with spare clothes, CDs and DVDs. Fishing bag and tackle box. Dance bag with ballet slippers, acro shoes and leotard. T-ball bag with Jake’s uniform, helmet and glove. And she hadn’t even packed the schoolbags yet.
That would be next week’s project.
Time. There simply wasn’t enough of it nowadays.
If Riley could have turned back the clock, she’d have had Mike beside her, running through the checklists. There’d have been no need to rush the kids out the door. She’d always tried to work her schedule around Mike’s shifts.
For one striking instant an intense physical feeling of longing swept through her. She missed him so much. She always would. That was the reality. She’d expected to feel this way again, being back home, but to Riley’s credit and surprise, she hadn’t felt it all that often in the weeks since they’d been home. She was living in the present. She’d come a long way in the two years since his death. Further than she’d thought.
Jake reappeared, and Riley herded him out the door onto the front porch to the tune of: “Go, go, go.”
&n
bsp; After activating the security system, she made her way to the minivan, where she found her daughter already buckled in and her son hard at work with the CD player.
“Jake.” She exhaled his name on one long, exasperated breath. “I’ll put in your CD after we get going. Get your seat belt on.”
He finally got settled, and Riley glanced at the digital display while cranking up the van.
“Great job, guys. We were out the door in less than five minutes. That’s a record.”
“Will you buy us Popsicles for our reward?” Jake asked.
Riley slipped on sunglasses and glanced over her shoulder, considering. “If you have any room left in your tummy after Grandma Rosie gets hold of you. If not, we can buy snow cones at the summer festival this weekend.”
“Yay.” Camille clapped.
That seemed to content her son, too, who quickly moved on to the next order of business. “Turn on the music.”
“Please,” Riley prompted, looking both ways down Traver Road before pulling out of their driveway.
“Please,” he said.
She depressed the power button. The noise that blared from the speakers at an insane volume shot her blood pressure—which was already pretty up there—skyrocketing.
In the time it took to turn down the volume, Riley’s head pounded with gravelly rap vocals so hard and raw she hadn’t been able to make out a word, just the pulse-pounding beat that threatened to blow off the top of her head.
“What on earth is this?” she asked.
“It’s Daddy’s.”
Riley frowned. “Where did you get it?”
“Daddy’s office.”
“Not in the case where the others CDs are?” She caught Jake’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
He shook his head, and Riley didn’t see anything about his freckled face that made her think he wasn’t telling the truth.
She cranked up the volume again, enough to make out the words. She’d heard rap music before, but never like this. Crude. Vulgar. Unpolished. As if someone had recorded it in a basement rather than a studio. Definitely not the sort of music appropriate for her almost six-year-old. In a few measures she heard lyrics she could barely understand. But she got the gist. Criminal activities made to sound cool.
Her Husband’s Partner Page 3
