Bittersweet: Can she rebuild her life?

by Lyz Kelley

  “Yes, you should have, but that’s not what I’m asking.” Joe leaned back and crossed his arms. “You've been here a little over a year. You’re one of the best I have on the team. You have good instincts. You've adapted well to this community and earned their respect. But I'm worried that I'm asking too much from you.”

  Heath pushed back into the chair further and focused in on his boss’s face. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.” Or not saying.

  “Mara and I talked last night. Asking you to work and go to school full-time and take care of Ellie is a lot.”

  “I’m getting it done.”

  “Yes, you are, and in the process not getting any sleep, and you look like shit, even if your uniform is pressed and your shoes shined. That’s why I want to cut your hours.”

  What? No. Awww, hell. He couldn't begrudge the sheriff. When he woke up this morning at the kitchen table with his computer’s keyboard imprinted on his cheek, he had a similar thought. While brushing his teeth, the mirror revealed dark circles under his eyes. The thick black marks fit a football player’s style, not his. However, he couldn’t cut back on hours. He barely paid the bills.

  “That’s a nice offer, Joe, but Ellie told me yesterday she needs new tennis shoes for a field trip that's coming up. I can’t keep dipping into the monies set aside for a house downpayment, and I can’t afford to have my hours cut.”

  His pride gave him a little pinch. He’d always been careful with his money. Paid his bills on time. Never splurged on unnecessaries. Limited eating out. Only spent what he could afford. Then along came Ellie with her own set of needs. Books. Backpacks. Barrettes. Boys were more simple and straightforward. A hole in the jeans didn’t cause a bucketload of tears.

  “That’s why Mara convinced me to cut you some slack. Your hours will be cut by four hours per week, plus I’ll adjust your rent. Since I’m your landlord, I’m able to do that without a contract adjustment.”

  “That’s kind—”

  “Stop there. Those four hours are so you can spend quality time with Ellie, plus do your studying. This will only be until you finish school. Then we can reassess. I need you to complete your coursework so I don’t receive any more calls about frivolous lawsuits.”

  “About that.”

  Joe held up his hand. “I know it’s bullshit. I already talked to Jack. Neither he nor I are worried. There were enough customers and waitresses who saw what happened. Just because the best man is a lawyer doesn’t mean he can file frivolous lawsuits whenever he feels like it.” Joe leaned forward and placed his folded arms on his desk. “Tell me neither you nor Chase laid a hand on either of those guys when you took them home.”

  “Not a finger. We very politely escorted them to the back of the SUV, drove to the lodge, handed them their car keys so they could retrieve their car the next day, and wished them good night.”

  “Sorry, but I have to ask. Will Chase provide the same story?”

  Heath scratched his head. “I don't see why not, since it's the truth.”

  “Good,” Joe shuffled a few papers on his desk, then pointed a pen at him. “Starting today, you’re off weekend and overtime shifts. You'll be working two ten- and two eight-hour shifts until you’re done with school. See Stella over in administration to work out your schedule change.”

  Shock ping-ponged through his ribcage. Finally he’d caught a break. “Thanks, sir.”

  “You're a good man, Heath. I’m looking forward to working with you for a good long time.” The sheriff stood and extended his hand. “And, if you call me sir one more time, I’ll schedule you for parade duty this summer.”

  He smirked. “I’ll most likely be on parade duty anyway, so I’m not worried.”

  Joe arced a brow, and his lips fought off a smile. “Smart-ass.”

  The feeling of belonging, which he once thought he could only feel in the Corps, settled in. “Isn’t smart-ass in my job description?”

  Joe pointed at the door. “Out.”

  “Yes, sir.” Heath exited before Joe could say anything else. He enjoyed the laughter following him down the hall. The overwhelm of what just happened stopped midway to the breakroom.

  The placed buzzed with activity. He nodded to Ernie, who must have been in on the change in hours, because the senior officer winked as Heath walked by.

  Heath had good discussions with the single dad and football coach. Even if Baker was a bit on the under-driven side and lacked advanced weaponry skills, Heath liked him. He could learn a lot from him in the area of social skills.

  A twenty by twenty-four inch picture on the wall caught his attention. Sam Gaccione. The guy everyone talked about with respect. Even though he died, he still managed to walk the halls of the station.

  Heath hadn’t met the man, but he wouldn’t mind being more like him. After all, Leza loved Sam. Always would. He’d like to think she could love him more, but in the areas of relationships and connecting, he needed to improve.

  Like his sister. How many times had she called, and he had to rush off the phone. He’d believed he was making a difference in the military, willing to sacrifice his life for his buddies and his country. But that didn’t justify his being emotionally absent. His mom, and especially his sister, had needed him. And his mom still did.

  Feeling like a jerk for letting everyone down, he decided right then to fix things—especially with El. She didn’t know him very well. He’d always been an introvert, but now was time to let her in more.

  He reached for his vibrating phone. El’s school.

  He glanced at his watch.

  10:30. Not lunchtime.

  Stay calm.

  “Heath?” El’s voice broke with a hiccup and sob.

  “El, hey. Whoa. Hey. What’s up? Talk to me.”

  “I was supposed to have my science project done today, and I forgot, and the teacher said I had to give you this note, and I started crying, and I couldn’t stop, and Billy called me a crybaby, and I got sent to the principal’s office, and they told me to call you, and—”

  “El. El…hey…hold up. Take a breath.”

  The sniffles on the other end of the line started his feet in motion toward the parking lot. “El. Listen to me.” He took a long breath, trying to figure out what the hell to say. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Okay? Stay where you are.”

  The quivering sob on the other end of the line made his heart twist into a knot. He raced to his cruiser. He considered flicking on the emergency lights, but decided he’d gotten in enough trouble for one day.

  Six minutes later he came to a screeching stop in the no-parking zone, flew out of his car, and raced up the sidewalk toward the principal's office.

  The white walls and tiled floor and smell of disinfectant made him close inward. Arriving at the administration office, the secretary pointed at the principal's open office door. He didn't stop, just kept on going.

  “El?” She sat on the edge of the chair, tears streaking her face, her backpack dangling between her legs.

  “Squirt? What happened?” He dropped to his knees and gently folded her into his arms. She resisted, shoving against his shoulders. Seconds passed. He refused to budge. Stubborn as your mother. Then she collapsed into his arms and buried her nose into his neck, her little body jerking with a torrent of sobs. Her tears soaked into his shirt.

  His heart cracked. “El?” He brushed strands of hair off her face. “It'll be okay.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  She swiped a hand under her nose and rubbed the gunk on her pants.

  The principal walked into the office and shut the door. “Deputy Watson.” She glared at him with hands on hips.

  That monstrous stare might have a sub-teen peeing their pants, but his protective instincts had engaged. Looks and tones didn't faze him. He’d protect El. No matter what.

  “Mrs. King.” He sat El on the seat next to him, and wrapped his hand around hers, then gave the principal a reflection of her at
titudes. “I understand Ellie didn’t turn in her science project. That’s on me. She asked me to buy her supplies and I forgot.”

  “The science project is only one part of my concern. We do not allow our students to kick or hit other students.”

  He gently tugged on El’s fingers. “You didn’t say anything about hitting.”

  “I didn’t hit anyone.”

  See? All is good. “El says she didn’t hit anyone, Mrs. King.”

  The principal’s expression pinched. “That's technically true. She didn’t hit Billy. She kicked him.”

  There went his defense strategy. “El. We talked about telling the truth.”

  “You didn’t ask the right question.” Her eyes darted to the floor.” Billy wouldn’t stop laughing. I told him to stop, but he didn’t. Then he yanked my hair, so I kicked him.”

  Well done. Good for you for standing up for yourself. However, saying what he thought wouldn’t win points with the principal. “El, we talked about being kind to others, didn’t we?”

  “Yesss,” she let the s skid into a long, snaky hiss. “We also talked about defending myself. He’s a bully. He took Noah’s apple yesterday at lunch, and tripped Ava during recess when the teachers weren’t looking.” The shrill of her stress tightened the muscles in his jaw. He despised bullies. He clamped down on his instilled control.

  The principal crossed her arms. “This is the first I’ve heard about tripping and stealing.”

  “El.” Heath squeezed her knee. “You’re not telling on Billy because you're feeling bad about kicking him, right?”

  “No. He’s always been a bully and sneaky. He takes stuff and punches us when the teachers aren’t looking.”

  “Has he done anything else to you?”

  “Not for a while.” She slowly shook her head. “The first week of school he and the other boys cornered me outside the gym. When he wouldn’t leave me alone, I socked him in the nuts like mom taught me. The other boys ran away.”

  Zoe had always been a ball-busting momma. Her daughter wouldn’t be any different.

  “You have a right to defend yourself, El.” He heaved out a long breath. “But we should practice some ways for you to defuse a situation first. You can’t come out swinging every time someone laughs at you.” Otherwise you’ll be taking punches your whole life.

  He glanced at the principal. “And about the science project. El will have the assignment completed next week.”

  Mrs. King's back straightened into a stiff rod. “Normally we suspend a child two days for kicking another student.”

  “You can send her home, but I’ll never punish El for protecting herself. Women need to learn to confront others when they have crossed the line.”

  Mrs. King held up her hand. “I agree. I’d like to talk to a few teachers and do some monitoring of Billy. There have been other complaints in the past, but we need witnessed proof.” Her voice drifted off, then she snapped her attention at El. “We have a no-bully rule in our schools. I’m giving you a half-day suspension for kicking Billy as a future reminder to you to talk to your teachers before taking matters into your own hands. Take the rest of the day off, and I will see you back in school first thing in the morning.”

  Heath nudged El. “Just to make sure you learn a lesson here, I think twice through your math deck will be a good reminder that you shouldn’t go around kicking people. What do you think, El?”

  “Twice?”

  The you’re-kidding look was so similar to Zoe’s he almost laughed. “Unless you think three times more appropriate.”

  She kicked her feet back and forth underneath the chair. “It’s fair,” she said, barely above a whisper. Her agreement snagged on her stubborn resistance.

  Heath stood. “We both have homework to do, so we should get started. What do you say we stop at the hardware store for your science supplies on the way home?”

  She trudged out of the principal's office, her backpack dragging along the floor.

  He followed with a nod to the principal.

  Once outside, he placed a hand on El’s shoulder. She tipped her head back and squinted into the sun.

  “Where’s the note you were supposed to give me?”

  She sat on the nearest bench and unzipped the front pouch of her backpack to retrieve a crumpled piece of paper. She laid the wad on her lap and pressed out the page with her hands, then handed him the sheet. Without reading the note, he shoved the warning in his pocket.

  “You’re not going to read it?”

  “Maybe later. How about we go to the store and then stop for some ice cream?”

  Her expression reminded him of Gunther's when he first walked through their door. So happy and excited to have someone play ball.

  “Ice cream? Seriously?”

  “Yep,” he winked. “Just after we stop by the station. I need to check in with Stella. My work schedule is going to change, and we’ll have a few more hours to spend together.”

  “I’d like that.” She twisted the end of her pigtails around her finger. “Can we buy one of those big tubs of ice cream so Gunther can have some?”

  The dog had to have the worst dairy farts. The raunchy smell wouldn't be so bad if the dog didn't sleep on the floor at the head of his bed. But the look on El’s face made being waked up during the night worth it. “As long as you promise to eat only a small scoop and save the rest for later.”

  “Yippie.” El danced in circles with her arms out, face up to the sky.

  A laugh hip-hopped out of his mouth.

  Even though he’d give anything to have his sister back, he appreciated every moment he spent with El. She had a way of reminding him life could be about ice cream and dog farts and standing up to bullies.

  Chapter 15

  “Leza!”

  A high pitched shriek stung her ears. Shoes slapped against the linoleum moments before little arms wrapped around her legs.

  She rocked back and placed a hand on Ellie’s back, and let the child's warmth ease into her core while she waited for Heath to appear, her heart fluttering. A few seconds later he whipped around the corner, then slowed his pace. He strolled past the stacks of dog food while the tension in his shoulders dissipated.

  “El. We talked about running through the store, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I saw Leza, and I had to say hi. Are you here to buy Truman’s dinner?”

  The look on Heath's face made her take a moment to reflect on parenthood. He did the best he could, and frankly she couldn’t have adapted to his circumstances any better.

  “How did you know?” She pressed Ellie’s button nose with her fingertip. “I can't decide what type he might like.” The intimidating eight-foot shelf stuffed with a multitude of colorful packets and tins made her pause. “Do you think he would like tuna or chicken better?”

  “Everyone knows cats like fish.” The seven-year-old’s exaggerated eye roll reminded her of Judge Judy when some plaintiff responded with comical ignorance.

  “Good point.” She reached for a couple of cans of flaked tuna in sauce.

  Ellie tipped her head back to look at Heath. “Can Leza come to dinner?”

  Leza opened her mouth, but Heath hugged his niece into him to muffle her enthusiasm. “I’m sure Leza has other plans. Besides,” Heath lowered his voice, “she already knows how well I cook Kraft macaroni dinner.”

  The remembered smell of burned food churned her stomach. “Did you manage to clean your pan?”

  “Nope. I had to trash it and buy a new one.”

  She tried to smother the chuckle insistent on breaking free, and moved to the side of the aisle to allow another shopper to pass. Ellie escaped from Heath’s grasp to tug on her arm. “Come to dinner. Pretty please. We’re watching a movie tonight, after I do my math.”

  “El!” Heath’s cheeks heated to the most robust shade of red.

  “Oh, yeah?” Leza gave Heath a wink to ease his uneasiness. “Which movie did you pick?”

  Ellie scrunc
hed her nose, her arms pumping to bring the title to the surface. “That dog one. A dog’s…”

  “A Dog’s Purpose?”

  “Yep.” She clapped her hands and danced on her toes. “That’s the one.”

  “Tell you what.” Leza ran her fingers through the strands of Ellie’s pigtails, untangling knots as she went. “I’ll come, but only on one condition.”

  Ellie's shoulders dropped. “Oh, boy. Adults only say that when it’ll be something bad. What is your commission?”

  A puff of laughter escaped. “The word is ‘condition,’ and I bet you’ll like this one. I’d like to make my secret mac and cheese recipe, with a salad on the side.”

  “The gooey kind?”

  “Yep.”

  Ellie’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously? Bonus.” Ellie cocked her head back further. “How about it, Heath?”

  Leza hated spending nights alone with her thoughts, and that’s all she’d been doing lately. Debating with herself was long past boring and well into snoozeworthy. Should she spend her savings for a down payment on a property? Should she earn a massage license or find a masseuse? Should she even start a business? She could wait out the ups and downs of the economy.

  His smile gave the impression he knew what she’d been thinking. A miracle, because she hadn’t produced a rational thought in weeks.

  “Homemade sounds good.” he said.

  Good? She squirmed. The carb overload sounded like a brick to the stomach.

  For the past several years, she was lucky to have a meal, much less a nutritious meal. She made a promise. Once she handed in her shield, she would be kinder to her body, cutting out bread and rice and pasta, upping her exercise regimen, and only indulging once in awhile in a carb-loaded meal.

  However, kisses were calorie free. She wouldn’t mind indulging in a few of Heath’s kisses.

  Her gaze collided with his. Yep, he could read her thoughts.

  She hadn’t taken the time to notice he still had on his form-fitting, oo-la-la uniform. He wore his badge like he deserved to wear one. To honor and serve was written into each crease on his honest face.