Home with You

by Shirlee McCoy

  That wasn’t something Rumer had much experience with. Lu might be a great businesswoman with a heart for special needs kids, but she wasn’t social. Aside from church every Sunday morning, she didn’t spend much time making connections. Not that there were many people to connect with in River Way. The town was tiny by anyone’s standards. Just a dot on the map, a pit stop on the way to somewhere else—rural properties owned by people who wanted to be left alone, one small grocery store, a couple of ramshackle businesses that sold mostly junk, a gas station with one pump, a seedy bar, and the little white church on the hill that attracted people from River Way and from the unincorporated land that surrounded it.

  Benevolence was a different cup of tea—vibrant and thriving, a mecca for people who wanted small-town life and a slower pace. She’d been there a few times when she was a kid—buying feed and tackle from the saddlery with Lu. She’d been with Jake, but they hadn’t done the normal Main Street thing—walking through shops and buying local goods. No. He’d wanted to attend wine-tasting festivals and try out the local bars. One year, they’d spent hours at a brewery twenty miles outside of town. Another year, they’d spent most of the night at a wine shop learning how to pair the right cheese with the right wine.

  The cheese had been good.

  The wine had been fine.

  The beer had been okay.

  But, she’d have rather gone berry picking in the orchards near town, or rented a kayak and taken it out on the river. Not to fish. Just to enjoy the hot sun, the brown-blue water, the golden landscape. She’d have rather had chocolate or ice cream or cake, but she’d gone along with Jake’s plans because she’d thought a good relationship was based on compromise and mutual respect.

  Not that she’d ever actually been witness to one. She’d read books and watched movies and listened to the couples at church who’d been married forever. Based on those things, she’d figured compromise and respect were key, so she’d given a lot of both.

  And ended up finding a thong in her bed, an e-mail trail of infidelity, and a secret bank account Jake had been using to buy gifts for his lover.

  Lovers?

  Probably.

  He hadn’t admitted it, but that was Jake—die-hard denial until she’d walked out. Now he was living in the apartment they’d shared with the woman he’d insisted he hadn’t cheated with.

  Yeah. She should have bypassed compromise and gone straight for chocolate shops and berry picking.

  Lesson learned.

  “Are you okay, dear?” a well-dressed woman asked. Maybe in her early fifties. Thin. Perfectly pressed and coiffed. Not a hair out of place or a piece of lint on her wool coat.

  “I’m fine. Thanks.” She patted her hair, realized there was absolutely nothing she could do to tame it, and let her hand drop away.

  “My father-in-law tells me that you’re the Bradshaws’ new nanny.”

  It wasn’t a question, but she nodded. “That’s right.”

  “I’m glad to hear that someone is willing to take on the task.”

  “It is a paid position.”

  “That’s what Byron said, but my friends and I didn’t think there’d been anyone in town who’d be . . .”

  “Stupid enough to take it?”

  “Brave enough,” she replied. “I’m Janelle Lamont, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, and congratulations on your new granddaughter.”

  “Thank you. She’s precious. Absolutely precious. I’d show you a photo, but then I’d end up showing every photo I took of her and my other granddaughters. The other two are just as gorgeous, of course.”

  “I thought Byron said this was number two?”

  “Technically, she is, but we’ve got a third. She’s not quite official yet. My oldest daughter and her husband will finalize the adoption in a couple of months.”

  “That’s wonderful!”

  “Isn’t it? Byron doesn’t usually talk about it. He’s afraid it’ll jinx things. Me? I know little Merry was meant for our family, and I don’t have a doubt that the adoption will be finalized.” Her cheeks were pink with pleasure, her eyes shining. “We’ve been very fortunate. I wish I could say the same for the Bradshaws. It just seemed like one tragedy after another with that family.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her smile fell away, and she shook her head. “Nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything. Gossip travels through Benevolence at the speed of light, and I’ve vowed to never be part of it.”

  “We’re not in Benevolence,” Rumer pointed out, and Janelle smiled again.

  “You’re quick. That’s good. Those twins are going to keep you on your toes, and don’t believe Milo’s sweet-as-pie perfect-gentleman act. He’s as much trouble as his brother. He’s just quieter about it. I had them in Sunday school last summer. And, the stories I could tell . . .” She sighed. “But, I wouldn’t want to scare you away.”

  “If the kids haven’t managed to do that already, I don’t think a story or two will.” As a matter of fact, she wanted to hear them. Forewarned was forearmed, and based on what she’d seen so far, she thought that getting Sunday’s kids to toe the line could be an epic battle of wits and fortitude.

  “You’ll be fine, and if you run into any trouble, call Chocolate Haven or Benevolence Baptist Church. They’re the disseminators of all local information. One call, and you can have an army of help lined up at the door. I’d better head out. I’m giving a couple of the ladies a ride home.”

  She walked away, and Rumer realized that most of the rest of the group was leaving too. Apparently, Sullivan had answered enough questions, and they were ready to head home. They moved toward the door, quietly talking to one another, discussing the details they’d been given, making plans for meal trains and homework help, for fund-raisers to help pay medical bills and keep the farm going.

  She liked what that said about Sunday and what it said about the town. Benevolence had to be a decent place to live if it had so many decent people in it.

  And chocolate.

  It had chocolate.

  Which she was absolutely going to try. If for no other reason than to prove that she could do whatever the heck she wanted.

  Enough of the compromises.

  Enough of the caving to someone else’s whims.

  She dug through her purse, trying to find the business card Byron had given her. She pulled out a scarf, mittens, a notepad, and a pair of scissors. Three pencils. A pen. The nub of a crayon and her wallet.

  “Need some help?” Sullivan said, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Good golly! You nearly scared the life out of me!”

  “Sorry about that.” He didn’t look sorry. He looked amused. “I didn’t realize you were so engrossed in your hunt.”

  “It’s not exactly a hunt. I was looking for the business card Byron gave me.”

  “Feeling the need for chocolate?”

  “Just thinking that I’d like to visit his shop one day. It sounds quaint.”

  “It is. Penny-candy jars on shelves. Old-fashioned cash register. A glass display case that’s been there since the doors opened. And chocolate so good people come from all over the country to try it.”

  “Really?”

  “That’s what they tell me. I haven’t lived around there since I was a teen.”

  “You’re living there now.”

  “Hopefully not long-term,” he responded.

  “You don’t like Benevolence?”

  “I don’t not like it.”

  “That’s not an answer, Sullivan.”

  “No. I guess it isn’t.” He took the purse from her hand and pulled the business card out. No fuss. No muss. No digging through whatever else Rumer had tucked away. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks,” she muttered, taking the card and the purse, one of the mittens falling from her hand, the scarf trailing the floor as she bent to pick it up.

  “Here.” He took everything except the card, somehow managing to grab
it all before she could stop him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Helping.” He put everything back in the purse and handed it to her.

  “You do know women don’t like their purses messed with?”

  “What women?”

  “Me.”

  He smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “It’s a little too late for that. You already messed in it.” And found the card that she would have sworn wasn’t there.

  “Then, I’ll have to make it up to you. I’ll bring you to Chocolate Haven one day.”

  “That would be . . .”

  Fun was the word she almost used.

  Because going to a quaint chocolate shop in a quaint town with a guy like Sullivan sounded interesting and exotic and nice.

  For once, her brain was working faster than her mouth could speak, and she didn’t say what she was thinking.

  “. . . hard to do while I’m taking care of the kids,” she finished.

  “Like I said, the kids love Chocolate Haven.”

  Oh.

  Okay.

  Not the two of them.

  The eight of them going for chocolate.

  That she could handle. “Is the shop big enough to fit all of them?”

  “Probably. If we order quick and get out fast.”

  “We could go after Heavenly’s choir competition.”

  “If she participates, and I doubt she will.”

  “Why wouldn’t she? You don’t get volunteered to be in things like that. You have to sign up.”

  “Can you actually see Heavenly signing up for anything?” he asked.

  “No, but, then, I’ve never seen her when her mother wasn’t in a coma and her father wasn’t . . .”

  “Dead? It’s okay to say it. The words don’t make things any worse or any better. And, you’re right about Heavenly. It’s hard to say what she was like before this happened.”

  “Has she been in the family long?”

  “They fostered her for a year or two, I think. I’m a little hazy on the timeline. The adoption was finalized a couple of months ago. I do know that.”

  “Poor Heavenly,” she murmured, remembering her own journey through foster care—the constant revolving doors, the neat little ranchers, the tiny apartments, the smiling foster parents and the grouchy ones. The unknowns had been the hardest part, getting into the caseworker’s car and being driven off to the next place and the next.

  None of them had ever been home.

  Even Lu’s place had never really felt like that.

  “I feel sorry for her, but there’s not a hell of a lot I can do to make things better. I’ve tried to be patient. I’ve tried to explain things.” He raked a hand through his hair. No ring on his left hand.

  Not that she’d been looking. She’d just happened to notice. In passing. “I can tell you from my experience in the foster care system that all the patience in the world isn’t going to help. All the love and support you offer won’t be enough to change things if she doesn’t want them to.”

  “Teacher and foster parent, huh? You’re way overqualified for the job.”

  “Foster child,” she responded.

  “Lu adopted you?”

  “No. I was in foster care because my mother was a hardcore drug addict and lost custody of me when I was a kid. Since my mom was a runaway and not using her real name, it took a couple of years for CPS to realize I had relatives. Once they did, they contacted Lu, and she agreed to take me in.” She knew she sounded cold and unaffected. She knew she was wearing the look that she’d perfected years ago. The one that said she didn’t care and it didn’t matter.

  But, of course, she did and it did, and she was too old to pretend things that weren’t true.

  “I’m sorry, Rumer.”

  “Why? Lu is great. So is Minnie. They may be a little odd, but they’re good people, and I’m fortunate they agreed to finish raising me. If they hadn’t, I’d probably be living the same kind of life my mother did.”

  “Did?”

  “A figure of speech, Sullivan. She’s still alive. As far as I know.” She turned away, done with the discussion. Her past wasn’t something she shared. Not with anyone.

  She wasn’t sure why she’d shared it with him.

  He was nearly a stranger, for God’s sake! A man she’d met a few hours ago. She’d spent four years living with Jake, and she’d never mentioned a word about her early childhood.

  Then again, he’d never asked.

  She frowned. “I guess we should go to Sunday’s room.”

  “Why? So, we can stop talking about your past?” he asked, and she turned to face him again.

  “Because, I’m worried about her. The surgeon doesn’t seem to believe that she’s improving. I do.”

  “She’s been unresponsive since the accident, Rumer.”

  “She wasn’t tonight.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m not telling the kids that. They don’t need to get their hopes up and then have them dashed.”

  “We all need hope sometimes,” she argued.

  “But most of us would prefer not to have it crushed because we were given wrong information and had wrong expectations.”

  “I didn’t take you for a pessimist, Sullivan.”

  “I’m a realist. There’s a difference.”

  “Not from where I’m standing.”

  “Then, maybe you’re standing in the wrong place,” he offered with a quick smile that made her heart jump and her pulse race.

  Not good.

  Not good at all!

  “We’re both standing in the wrong place. We were heading to Sunday’s room. That seems like a better plan than hanging out here,” she responded, and then she walked into the hall and away from Sullivan as fast as her clompy oversize boots would allow.

  * * *

  They spent an hour in Sunday’s room.

  She didn’t move a hand or twitch a finger.

  To Sullivan’s surprise, Rumer was almost as still.

  She packed a lot of energy into her small frame, and he’d seen her put it to good use with the kids, but she’d turned that part of herself off. Instead of bustling around and organizing, she’d spent the entire time sitting beside Sunday’s bed, holding her hand and talking quietly about the farm and the children.

  He wasn’t sure if she expected a response, but she seemed determined to fill the quiet with soft, easy words and sweet descriptions of Twila’s birthday party.

  She made it sound like a princess party—the kind where little girls danced, rode ponies, and jumped in bouncy castles.

  She didn’t mention the burnt cakes, the boys’ jaunt down to the river, or Moisey’s wandering. She didn’t say that the house was a mess or the kids were running wild, or that she’d been hired because Sullivan didn’t know what the hell he was doing. She said the things he’d have wanted to hear if he were the parent lying in the hospital bed. And, he appreciated that, because he’d run out of words days ago. He’d used them up talking to teachers, casserole deliverers, kids, random people from random government entities who were all there to get a piece of whatever pie Matt had left.

  He hadn’t left much—minimal life insurance, a few thousand dollars in the business bank account. Matt hadn’t paid property taxes the previous year. He owed money on farm equipment that had been purchased a couple of years back. There’d be an insurance settlement eventually. The truck driver who’d killed him had been on company time, driving a company rig. No amount of money could bring Matt back, but at least Sunday wouldn’t lose the farm. Sullivan and his brothers had already sent a check to the county for past taxes. They planned to pay off the equipment, too. Porter and Flynn would be back in a week to sit down and go over the finances.

  They’d been in crisis mode before and during the funeral.

  Now, they were planning things out, trying to prepare a future for six kids who might or might not get their mother back.

  His phone rang, and he pulled it
out, glancing at the number. Porter. Finally.

  “It’s about time,” he said by way of greeting.

  “Sorry, bro. I just finished with a client.” A former marine, he’d spent ten years serving the country. Now he served overpaid celebrities, high-level government officials, and just about anyone else who was willing to pay the price for personal security. “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s stable. They had to resuscitate her twice.”

  “Were you able to get in touch with Flynn before the surgery?”

  “No. He’s probably out in the middle of nowhere without cell reception. God alone knows when I’m going to hear from him.”

  “Sorry you had to make the decision on your own. We agreed to do this as a team. Flynn and I are falling short on that.”

  “So am I,” he muttered, and Porter chuckled.

  “Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure you’re great at playing Mr. Mom. And, for the record, I would have made the decision to resuscitate, too, and I’m pretty damn sure Flynn would have. Those kids need their mother.”

  “Not if she’s got no quality of life and they have to spend the rest of theirs watching her suffer,” he muttered, and regretted it immediately.

  “Shhhhh,” Rumer hissed. “She might be able to hear you.”

  “Who’s that?” Porter asked. “A nurse? If so, see if she’ll talk to me. I have a couple of medical questions I want to ask.”

  “She’s the new housekeeper you and Flynn advertised for.”

  “Really? I just wrote up the ad and sent it in a couple of days ago.”

  “And forgot to tell me.”

  “That was Flynn’s job. I did my part.”

  “I guess my desperation was obvious.”

  “Nah. We just figured you needed some time to work. None of us are going to be able to do the full-time parent thing. Not for long stretches of time. Not with that many kids. Eventually, we may have to split the kids up and each of us take a couple—”

  “How about we discuss that when you’re here next weekend?” Much as he wasn’t enjoying the responsibility of taking care of six kids, he wasn’t ready to contemplate splitting them up.

  “That’s fine. Tell me about the hired help. Is she as old as Methuselah?”

  “Not even close.”