Ryker’s Justice

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

He’d long thought so, too, but he teased her. “Yeah, sure—maybe on the way to the witch’s cottage in Hansel and Gretel or the place where the Big Bad Wolf is skulking around waiting to devour Little Red Riding Hood.”

  “Not at all,” Nicole said. “It’s enchanted in a lovely way. I almost expect to see fairies or nymphs dancing or maybe Thumbelina. Or, even Laura Ingalls Wilder and her family trekking through the wilderness.”

  No woman could fake such appreciation. “Maybe you’d better hold back until you see the house,” Jude said. “It’s not much.”

  Moments later, they came into the clearing and he parked. The old three-story frame house stood tall, the long-since rusted tin roof a bright magenta among the foliage. Although it used to be white, it’d been years since the house had been painted, so the weathered boards were a seasoned gray. The shutters around the downstairs window used to be dark green but they’d faded. Some of the boards around the base of the wraparound porch sagged, and he noticed the steps leading onto the porch displayed cracks. The fieldstone fireplace on the left side still stood straight, however, but there were more weeds than flowers in the dooryard. He noticed the barn appeared to be ready to collapse in the first strong wind that blew. A wave of sadness passed through him like a cold chill.

  Structurally, the house remained sound and could be fixed to last another hundred years or so. Most of the things wrong were cosmetic or could be easy to repair. If he were planning to stay, Jude figured he could have it back in shape within a few months. With all of his focus on the investigation, he hadn’t noticed the sorry state of the house until now. She must think it’s a real dump, an eyesore. I shouldn’t have invited her here at all. I bet she’s going to turn her high-class little nose up in the air and ask me to take her back to the inn in a hurry.

  “I know it’s not what you expected,” he began.

  “It’s a hundred times better,” Nicole exclaimed. “It’s classic, Jude, a real American farmhouse, a pioneer home. I love it. If I owned a place like this, I’d probably never leave.”

  Her enthusiasm pleased him. “I know it’s pretty rough at the moment but…”

  “Think how pretty it would look with some climbing roses on a trellis at the end of the porch,” she cried. “I’d plant some geraniums in pots, too, bright red ones. Are those lilac bushes over there?”

  “Yeah, one purple and one white,” Jude replied. His mother had planted flowers and long ago there had been a rose trellis. “And there’s Rose of Sharon on that side.”

  “And a spirea bush, too.” Her tone contained such wonder he almost thought she was putting on to joke but one glance at her face made him realize none of it was feigned. “Jude, this is fantastic.”

  Yesterday he would’ve replied that it wasn’t, that it was no more than an old house in the middle of nowhere with more memories than a future. Today he agreed, and the fact that he did scared the holy crap out of him. He didn’t dare say anything now but a simple, “Yeah, let’s go in the house.”

  And he reached for her hand.

  Chapter Five

  If he hadn’t made an effort to clean up the interior, he probably wouldn’t have allowed Nicole or any woman into the house. As he opened the door, he thanked God and any saints who might be in the vicinity that he’d removed his daddy’s stained furniture and collected rubbish. Although the furnishings were now minimal, at least the place could be considered clean. Jude headed for the kitchen, his hands full of grocery bags, but Nicole stopped beyond the front door and gawked. Jude tensed, waiting, but when she commented, it was with admiration.

  “It’s just as gorgeous inside,” she said. Jude studied the large open living room with the hearth on the far side. He gazed at the wooden staircase climbing upward from the open entryway and toward the door leading first into the dining room, then the kitchen.

  “Thanks,” he replied. He probably should say more but he didn’t know what. “Kitchen’s through here.”

  Nicole praised the solid wood vintage cabinets and ran her hand across the smooth pine surface with wonder. She opened the tiny, ancient fridge and peered inside. Jude closed his eyes in silent thanks that he’d bothered to clean it as she moved on to the stove, a behemoth.

  “So what do you think?” he asked, leaning as nonchalantly as possible against the scarred kitchen table.

  “I like it. It’s homey,” she said. “Your appliances could do with an upgrade, but for now, they suit the room.”

  “Can you manage the stove?”

  She lifted her head and faced him. “Oh, yeah, I can. It’s very much like the one my grandparents had. I can light the burners and oven if necessary.”

  “It is,” Jude said. “You have to…”

  “Be careful,” she finished his sentence. “Yes, I’m aware. I don’t suppose you might have an apron tucked away somewhere?”

  “I doubt it.” But he found one, faded and mended, in a bottom drawer he hadn’t touched. As he tied it around Nicole’s waist, Jude remembered his mother wearing it. It should have looked silly over her skinny jeans and long-sleeved golden blouse, but it didn’t.

  Jude watched as she became familiar with the contents of the cupboards, lifting down mixing bowls and digging for the right pots. She put away the groceries and set to work. When she stopped, he knew he’d been busted. “Go find something to do,” she told him. “Take a nap, split some wood, go hunting or fishing. I can’t cook when you’re watching.”

  He opened his mouth to protest and before he could speak, Nicole stood on tiptoe. She pressed her lips against his and he closed his mouth, eager for the kiss. Although it was light, little more than a peck, it conjured up desire and he dug deep for enough willpower to resist taking her in the kitchen. Jude broke away first, before he lost control, and slammed out through the back door with a mighty twang. He stalked toward the woods, prepared to hike away his powerful erection and to gather his turbulent emotions in the privacy of the trees. Behind him, he heard Nicole begin to sing and God help him, he thought he’d come in his jeans.

  Two hours later, after a long tramp through the rugged forest and a short nap down by the river, Jude returned. Hunger and fatigue had helped ease his rampant desire, or so he thought until he walked through the back door. The delicious aroma of simmering dumplings filled his nose and when he saw Nicole bend over to pull a tray of biscuits from the oven, he wanted her. If he didn’t have her soon, he’d probably die of a rock-solid hard-on and they’d have to bury him with a pillow to hide the cock stand.

  “Smells great,” he said.

  “I hope it is.”

  For the first time in years, Jude faced another living human being across the old table. The older he’d grown, the less often he shared a meal at home. Last time he’d come home, he never ate at the house, so the moment evoked the past. Except for his sisters, he struggled to recall the last woman since his mama’s time to sit here.

  If he hadn’t been crazy deep in desire and halfway in love with Nicole, the first bite would’ve been enough to snare him. Jude tasted the tender, fluffy dumpling in a rich white sauce, complimented with the wild taste of the squirrel, and he sighed with pleasure. To be sure it wasn’t a fluke, he bit into a buttered biscuit half. The flaky, delicious flavor in his mouth confirmed it—Nicole could cook. Why didn’t the son-of-a-bitch she married appreciate her? Any woman who can turn out food this good should be loved and treated right.

  A worried frown cut through her forehead. “How is it?” she asked.

  He schooled his features to be sober and took another bite. Her faltering smile wilted more and he gave up the pretense. He wouldn’t tease her, not when she’d suffered so much from her old man. “Delicious,” he said. “I’ve never had better, Nicole.”

  Her grin reappeared and almost blinded him with brilliance. “Thanks,” she replied. “I’m glad you like it.”

  He ate two bowls and three biscuits. If his stomach hadn’t groaned full, Jude would have helped himself to more. “That’s better
than anything I’ve ever eaten at Cockrell’s,” he said. “And their food is excellent.”

  “I appreciate the compliment,” Nicole said. “I didn’t make dessert. I didn’t really have time but…”

  Jude had noticed her occasional habit of apologizing. He realized it came from years with an emotionally abusive asshole. “You don’t need to make excuses, honey,” he said in the gentlest tone he could summon. “It’s okay. I figured I’d buy you a malt or ice cream sundae after the game anyway.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Then it’s gonna happen. Let’s toss the dishes in the sink and get out of here.”

  Nicole put down her spoon and placed her small hand over his big paw. “I can’t leave a kitchen in a mess. Give me ten minutes and I’ll put it to rights, then we can go.”

  On the way out, Jude noticed the chill since the sun had gone down. He reached for his heavy flannel jacket, then realized Nicole lacked one. “Did you bring a sweater or anything, honey?”

  “Oh, no, I didn’t think about it,” she said. “I suppose I should have.”

  For one awful moment, he thought she was about to cry. She’s fragile, on the surface, he decided. But underneath, she’s strong and tough. She’s just afraid to trust herself and I don’t think she really knows who Nicole is. To stay any chance of tears, he said, “I’ve got something you can wear. Hang on and I’ll be right back.”

  His feet pounded up the stairs, two at time. Jude reached into the closet of his boyhood room. Don’t let it be moth-eaten or gone. He found the garment bag he remembered and unzipped it. A fresh smell wafted from it as he pulled out his high school letter jacket, intact. It still held the faint scent of dry cleaning and he carried it in his arms downstairs.

  “You can wear this,” he said as he thrust the garment at Nicole.

  “What is it?” she asked, then took it from him. “Oh, Jude! Is it yours?”

  “Yeah, it’s mine. I doubt I have anything else that would come close to fitting but it’ll be warm. If you’d rather not wear it, we can run by the inn on the way.”

  And he would, though it would mean a detour of at least ten miles.

  “No one ever offered me their school jacket,” Nicole said. She slid into it and although it swam, much too large, it fit enough so she could wear it to the game. “I like it. But, tell me the truth, will this put your brand on me in the eyes of the community?”

  It took him a few seconds to realize she was joking. Maybe it was her exaggerated Western drawl or the twinkle in her eyes, but when he got it, he laughed out loud.

  “Might be, ma’am,” he said with an imaginary tip of his hat. “Do you mind?”

  Nicole smiled as she met his gaze. She made no reply as she picked up her purse and started for the door. Jude shrugged his shoulders and grabbed his keys to follow.

  October chill added the hint of frost to the night air. When they emerged onto the blacktop, the trees began to be replaced with open fields. Above, the moon commanded the sky as it rose, the color tinted with harvest orange. The stars glistened, each a bright diamond flung into the darkness. Jude switched on the defroster to keep the windshield clear and when he hit a rough spot in the road, the radio, always unpredictable, blared to life.

  The high, nasal voice of Hank Williams sang across the miles and decades, as familiar to Jude as his childhood toys. His daddy favored the singer’s classic music and Jude had been raised with the songs as a soundtrack for their life. After his mother’s death, his father spent many a long night playing the worn LPs on the stereo, drinking and often crying. Hank’s melancholy music could touch a chord deep within Jude and shred his heart. He reached for the knob to shut it off when he realized Nicole sang along with the tune.

  Each word slashed through Jude’s emotions, sharper than a knife, and laid his soul bare. “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” hit his Achilles’ heel. He’d grown up to the sound of whip-poor-wills and he knew the gut-wrenching kind of lonely Hank still sang about. As a little boy, he’d cried some nights when his father repeated the song more than once. The poignant lyrics tonight reminded him how empty his life stretched out for so very long. Since leaving home and turning his back on college, Jude had held tight to first the Navy, then to his job as an ATF agent. Work replaced family, friends, and hope. Brick by invisible brick, he’d built a wall to keep out the rest of the world because if he let them close, they possessed the power to hurt him.

  Since his return, Jude’s family poured love into his life. His brothers’ quiet acceptance, their wives’ welcomes, and the affection of their children had taken root. He’d allowed himself to become friendly with the Cockrells and now Nicole had slipped beyond his barriers. No matter what hurts he’d suffered, what pain he’d known, what bad hands life might have dealt him, Jude knew he’d never suffered the way Nicole had.

  She sang the lyrics, eyes closed, her alto voice taking the words and claiming them. Nicole made it into her song, her lament. Jude shared the raw emotions she put into it and he wanted to weep or rage. He ached to pound the steering wheel to vent his feelings, and he wanted to take her with such a powerful rush of desire that he didn’t dare trust himself to share.

  Without warning, without thinking, he pulled into the parking lot of a long-closed restaurant as gravel crunched beneath his tires. As soon the truck halted, he touched her hand. “Stop,” he cried, his voice hoarse and harsh. Then Jude twisted the radio off and silence fell between them, heavy as sin, darker than midnight.

  Nicole lifted her head and faced him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Jude?” she asked, hesitant.

  Clumsy as a bear, desperate as a drunkard in search of drink, he grasped her shoulders and took her mouth with his. From the first impact, want triumphed over common sense and tenderness drowned under the powerful rush of aching need. In those moments, Jude sought to fill his emptiness, to erase his loneliness with Nicole’s vital presence. Desperation mingled with rising desire and he kissed her hard. Her mouth remained immobile beneath his and then yielded, her lips meeting his with the same hungry fire. Nicole wrapped her arms around him and held tight. Her essence, the taste of her mouth, the aroma of her hair and skin, surrounded him and he drank deep. Their connected mouths delivered a rush of pure emotion, enhanced with adrenalin. Jude kissed her until his lungs protested, until his breath came short and his body burned with want.

  Something in the kiss awakened feelings he didn’t expect to have for any woman and delivered him from the abyss of his solitary life. He tasted hope on her lips and the impact skewered him, sharp and visceral. Everything he thought he’d wanted and worked for changed in those moments to a new reality. Jude broke away with more turbulent emotion than he’d had during meaningless sex. His feelings were engaged as much as his body, and the combination packed a potent punch.

  He stared at her and when she smiled, his heart twisted into a pretzel knot. “Maybe I should sing more often,” she said.

  Without preamble, his interest in the woman shifted to a different level and his mind reeled—stunned, surprised, but somehow pleased. Maybe I love her, Jude thought with a sense of wow.

  “Maybe,” he said. The single word dropped between them carried weight and power. If they didn’t hurry, though, they’d miss the start of the game so they left.

  Chapter Six

  The consolidated high school sat alongside one of the two-lane state highways that crossed the county, and the football field was to the side. Jude noticed they hadn’t replaced the old bleachers or built a proper stadium and it remained as he remembered. Grass covered the playing field, the white lines painted on by the custodial staff. Goalposts marked each end and two sets of stands, one for the home fans, the smaller set for visitors flanked either side of the field. A small cinderblock concession stand seemed to be the sole improvement in recent years.

  He parked his truck in a line of other vehicles in the parking area between the high school proper and the field. Some of the excitement he remembered
from his student years surfaced at the sight of the band about to march onto the field, and the players waiting on the sidelines. The lit scoreboard stood at zero—for now. Jude had seen many stadiums in many places and he wondered how the simple setup might appear to Nicole. They hadn’t said much on the short drive over, both preoccupied, he felt, with the kiss.

  “So what do you think?”

  “It’s basic but I can feel the energy from here,” Nicole said. “I’m starting to understand the whole Friday Night Lights thing. I never did before. Is it about to start?”

  As she spoke, the band struck up a marching tune and stepped onto the field. “Yeah, any minute. We’d better hurry or we’ll miss the part where they announce the players.”

  “Your nephew, David, is one of them, right?”

  “Yeah, he’s a senior. His brother Cody plays, too, and my other nephew, Noah’s kid Josh, is on the team too. Mindy, my sister Esther’s youngest, is one of the varsity cheerleaders.”

  They paused to pay the small entrance admission at a makeshift gate manned by an old man in a folding lawn chair, then Jude led Nicole into the home team stands. In the second row, center, he spotted Elijah, Tania, and the rest of the Rykers. With her hand tucked in his, they joined them. He watched his brothers’ expressions as they noted the linked hands, the letter jacket, and Nicole’s presence. If they hadn’t been in a public place with the focus on football, he didn’t doubt they would have high-fived him.

  After brief introductions, he put Nora on his lap and settled down to watch the game. Although he’d come to support his nephew, Jude’s enthusiasm grew as the home team made a series of touchdowns and racked up the score. In between plays, he pointed out his niece among the cheerleaders and his other nephews to Nicole.

  At half time, as the band returned for an elaborate show, Nicole leaned over and whispered in his ear. He pointed to the far end of the field and said, “See over there, that’s the restrooms, honey.” Nicole peered into the darkness beyond the brightly lit scene. “Are you sure?”