Always the Hero
Page 13
“We’ll be needing your truck this week,” Calliope told him after she called for her sister. Stella came racing around the corner. “Beginning Wednesday I think. I should be able to have the proper plants organized by then.”
“Gives me time to get the ground cover and mulch from Harvey,” Lori agreed as she made notes on her tablet. She sighed, dropped her head back and took a deep breath. “I can’t believe we pulled it off.”
“I can,” Matt announced. “Calliope? Can I give you and Stella a ride home?”
“Thank you, but we’d rather walk,” Calliope said to a groaning Stella. “Unless you’d rather not stop for ice cream on the way?”
Stella perked up immediately and, after bidding Matt and Lori goodbye, hurried off ahead of her sister.
“I think I’m too tired to eat ice cream,” Lori said, but the smile she gave him was one of relief. “Everyone did great today, but I don’t know that I could have done this without you.”
“Of course you could have.” He held out his hand and for the first time, she didn’t hesitate before slipping her fingers through his. “I already put your bike and wagon in the back of my truck. I’ll drive you home.”
“My hero.” Lori leaned her head on his shoulder. “I think I’m feeling optimistic enough to not even worry about whatever shoe might be about to drop.”
“I don’t even want to think about it,” Matt said. “But you know what I do want to think about?”
“Mmmm. What?” She smothered a yawn behind her hand.
“Our date. Tomorrow. I was thinking maybe I’d pick you up a little early. Maybe we could go for a walk on the beach before we head over to Paige and Fletcher’s?”
Her hand tightened around his. “Sure. I can make that work.”
“Good. One o’clock then?”
She turned her face to his, blinked exhausted, happy eyes at him and nodded. “One o’clock.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LORI COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time she’d slept in so late. Maybe it was that yesterday had drained nearly every drop of energy out of her, but in the best way possible. Seeing all her friends and neighbors working together for a common goal, hearing the laughter in between grunts of exertion and yelps of accomplishment had done more to elevate her mood than a year’s worth of sunshine.
And today she got to celebrate with a date with Matt.
She stretched her arms over her head, let out an excited squeal before she could stop herself.
Caution, she reminded herself. She had to be more careful this time, but she just had such a good feeling about things. The past was cleared up; they were on the same track now, working together. Things were going well enough for her to move beyond dipping her toe in the romantic pool to maybe putting her whole foot in.
She rolled over, hugged her pillow and snuggled in against the thin beam of sunlight peeking through almost-closed curtains. She had the morning to herself, which gave her enough time to call the Flutterby and check in with Willa, who was working out even better than either she or Abby hoped. She planned to spend the rest of her morning in the garden and greenhouse and filling her soul with all the good things life had to offer her.
There was nothing sending clouds her way.
The second the thought passed through her mind, she wanted to kick herself. What was she doing, daring the universe to throw obstacles in her path? She wasn’t normally a superstitious person, but given how much she was enjoying a drama-free few days—it helped that BethAnn had been out of town since Wednesday—she really needed to be ready for the next bump in the road. Which, given Lori’s luck, would land squarely on her head.
As if reading her mind, a gentle thud hit the bed. Lori looked up as Winnie made her morning stroll up her legs and settled on her hip, barely tolerant blue eyes blinking as her “feed me now” motor revved. “Hey, baby.” Lori reached out and scratched the cat between her ears and swore Winnie smiled at her. “You hungry?”
Lori’s own stomach growled, but as she blinked the last of the sleep out of her eyes, the only thing on her mind right now was coffee. She stretched, dislodged Winnie and kicked herself up out of bed.
It wasn’t until she was properly caffeinated, had fed the cat, showered, and fixed herself some scrambled eggs and mushrooms that she took the time to acknowledge the fluttering in her stomach was a combination of anxiety and excitement. She’d felt this way before, weeks ago, when she and Matt had first started unofficially seeing each other.
The idea of a Sunday get-together with friends wasn’t new to her; she’d attended plenty of events and gatherings over the years, but she couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at the prospect of arriving with someone. For once, she wouldn’t have to sit on the periphery and watch her friends, and her brother, with their significant others. For once, she could be part of a...
“Not a couple,” Lori said in a tone that reminded her of her mother, a thought that was enough to stifle—or maybe suffocate—the hope fluttering in Lori’s chest. Her mother couldn’t open her mouth other than to criticize, which was only one reason why neither she nor Fletcher had much contact with their parents. They hadn’t even made time to come out for Fletcher and Paige’s wedding—after Paige had spent days convincing her husband-to-be that he needed to invite them. Surely a wedding would be the perfect opportunity to heal the fractured family. He’d given in and Lori’s heart had broken for all of them when they’d received the curt “we’re unable to attend” reply.
“Thank goodness we had you, Grandpa.” Lori missed him so much sometimes she ached. It had been nearly four years since Axel Bradley had died, and yet everywhere she looked, even though she’d redecorated the house and removed the forty-plus years of his personal touches in exchange for her own, she could still imagine Axel walking down the stairs in the morning or hear him tap his fingers three times on the door frame into the kitchen before he entered.
The familiar restlessness jangled Lori’s nerves and she found herself getting to her feet and popping two slices of bread into the toaster. As the transfixing aroma of toasting sourdough wafted through the air, she pulled open the back door and, after grabbing her garden scissors, she dived into the morning-kissed flower garden bordering the house and fence line. A few minutes later, her arms filled with daisies, snapdragons, lavender and big, billowing zinnias, she returned and filled a vase, arranging and settling them into a glossy, late summer bouquet to take to Paige.
She bent over, pressed her nose up close and let the calming scent and softness erase the looming sadness that threatened to descend. A sadness she pushed away with the focused image of Matt Knight and the promise of a nice, summer day ahead spent with friends.
She glanced at the clock as the toast popped up. Ten thirty. Still plenty of time. After a thicker than necessary drizzle of Calliope’s honey, Lori took a bite and headed out to the greenhouse.
* * *
KEEPING BOTH EYES on the clock at the sheriff’s station, Matt scrubbed at the residual paint spatters dotting the backs of his hands. Other than a sore back and leg, they were one of the few aftereffects of a more than successful first round of neighborhood beautification.
He’d been tempted to walk Lori into her house to make sure she didn’t fall asleep on the porch, but suspected that would only lead to other temptations neither of them were ready for. He settled for waiting until her bedroom light clicked on and he could see her standing at her window. She’d lifted her hand, pressed fingers against the glass, her face illuminated by the dim glow of the bedside lamp.
“I think we are in the clear,” Ozzy said with almost as much hesitation as Matt felt. Nothing like tempting fate to intervene and ruin what was left of a beautiful late summer day. After yesterday, everyone was looking forward to the relaxed, friendly atmosphere of Fletch and Abby’s backyard.
But first, Matt was looking forward to some quality, n
on-project-related time with Lori.
“I’m going to flip the switch to forward the calls.” Ozzy ducked his head and went tap-tap-tapping on his keyboard.
“Go for it.” Matt couldn’t remember ever willing a more uneventful day at the sheriff’s station since he’d taken the job. For once, the universe seemed to be on his side and provided him and Ozzy with a nice, calm Sunday morning with nothing more than a runaway poodle, a rebellious burglar alarm and a noise complaint from Cora Dumbrowski, who was, ironically, as deaf as a post. By the time Matt got back from her house and logged in his four-sentence report, it was almost twelve thirty.
“There’s not a weekend that goes by that I don’t thank Luke for getting a hold of that computer program.” Matt collected his cell phone, grabbed his jacket and powered down his desktop. When Ozzy wasn’t looking, he bent down and whispered a goodbye to the cactus Lori had talked him into fostering. “See you at Fletch and Abby’s later, right?”
“Yep. You, uh, bringing a date?” Ozzy asked a little too innocently.
“Maybe.” Matt grinned. “Why? Am I wearing a sign?”
“No. But every time the phone rang this morning you looked as if you wanted to strangle it. And not because you’re looking forward to Fletch’s inaugural grillfest.” Even from across the room Matt heard Ozzy’s stomach growl. “I ran an extra mile this morning so I could enjoy Jason’s famous ribs.”
“Pork is a great motivator,” Matt agreed. Things were looking up for all of them. Now if he could only speed up time and get through Kyle’s hearing without having to bring Lori into the situation, he could call them perfect. “You okay to lock up?”
“Go on already. You’re driving me nuts. Say hi to Lori for me.”
“You can say hi yourself later.” Before his fellow deputy changed his mind—or found something Matt had forgotten to take care of, he was on his way to his car. He had just enough time to get home, shower and change. Maybe.
He’d just parked in his driveway and was making his way up the brick path to his front door when his phone rang. Key in hand, he pulled out his phone, half expecting to hear Ozzy on the other end prank calling him with a fake emergency. Which is why he didn’t pay any attention to the caller ID when he answered. “You’d better not be playing me, buddy.”
There wasn’t a response. He pushed inside the front door and frowned when silence greeted him on the other end. “Hello?”
He heard a catch of breath, a humming of sorts. Matt clicked on the hall light even as a prickle of unease crept under his collar.
“Matt.”
Matt’s blood went cold at the familiar, ghostly voice. “Hack? Is that you?” For an instant he was back in Iraq, lying on the side of the road, ears ringing against the barrage of explosions and the death rattle screams of his friends and fellow soldiers. He leaned his free hand against the wall for balance. “Hacksaw?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m sorry to call out of the blue.” Hack’s voice trailed off and Matt wished he could reach out and grab hold of her.
“Where are you? Are you okay?” Of course Hack wasn’t okay. Hack hadn’t been okay for a very long time.
“I’m, um, in this little town near you. Durante, I think? I—there was an accident. I’m at the sheriff’s station. My car’s totaled and, God, Matt, I’m sorry. I don’t have anyone else to call.”
“You did the right thing.” Matt headed back to his car. “You stay where you are, okay? I’m coming to get you. Hack?” He stopped long enough to force himself to breathe. “You sober?”
“Eighteen months, six days, and...seven hours.”
“Good. Good, okay.” One less thing to worry about.
“I’m sorry, Matt.”
“You never have to apologize to me, Hack. For anything.” He slid into his car and started the engine. “Hang tough. I’m on my way.”
* * *
THE TICK-TICK-TICKING of the wall clock in the kitchen may as well have been a brass band with the way it echoed in Lori’s head.
She’d forced herself to wait until noon before she’d gotten changed, before she’d spent over twenty minutes staring into a closet filled with clothes that weren’t going to magically change size, or suddenly help her lose thirty or forty pounds. Her hair wouldn’t cooperate, but she was patient. No need to be so picky. She just needed to be comfortable, which she would be in the peach-and-white-striped maxi dress she pulled on over a white tee.
By twelve fifty, she set her purse by the door.
At twelve fifty-five, she wiped off the counters, refilled the cat’s food bowl and sat down at the table to wait.
The knots in her stomach had knots. Knots of anticipation. Knots of fear. Knots of excitement. But those she managed to untie, at least for a little while. Until the clock continued to tick.
And no knock sounded on the door.
One ten. One twenty. One...thirty.
Lori pressed her glossed lips together. He was a deputy. Chances were he got caught up at work and couldn’t call. Or maybe she’d gotten the time wrong?
Doubt crept in, stealthy, its sharp talons digging into her heart as it did its best to grab hold and override reason. She was overreacting. Matt was probably just running late. Except Matt was never late. One of those military hangover issues he joked about. If he wasn’t fifteen minutes early, he was running behind.
She picked up her cell and checked it. Nothing since the last time she’d looked. No text. No voice mail. No missed call. Her fingers trembled as she dialed his number and waited as it went to voice mail.
“Hey, Matt. It’s, um, Lori.” Her stomach churned as she struggled to find words that wouldn’t make her sound pathetic. “Just checking in. Hope everything’s okay with you and I’ll, well, I guess I’ll see you at Paige and Fletcher’s.”
She clicked off, then, before she thought better of it, she called the station. The message requested she key in a code to forward her call to one of their on-call deputies. She didn’t enter it.
Lori went into the living room, looked out the bay window into the street where she saw the same neighbors’ cars she’d seen all morning. No sign of Matt’s truck. No sign of Matt.
Nausea churned in her stomach.
She’d been stood up.
Memories of another day that stretched to another evening, another night threatened to wash over her, but she shook her head, refusing to let what had devastated her then overwhelm her now. She was being ridiculous. Life happens. Plans change and, well, maybe the prospects of spending an afternoon with her hadn’t been as appealing as it had been last night.
Still, she deserved a phone call at least. Didn’t she?
She squished her toes in the blister-inducing shoes she’d been saving for a special occasion. An occasion where she hadn’t planned to walk much, but it looked as if she was going to be walking after all. Sitting home, waiting for the bell to ring, putting her life on hold all because of some guy—she’d done that in high school and it had ended in disaster.
She wasn’t going to do it again.
Lori hurried upstairs, changed her shoes, redid her hair so it was up off her neck and readjusted her plans as she retrieved her bike from the side yard. She hooked the smaller wagon to the back as she did when she didn’t feel like walking and stashed her bag along with Charlie’s gift and Paige’s flowers inside.
A few minutes later she was peddling down the street, and cursing herself for once again, letting hope guide her to disappointment.
* * *
MATT HAD TO circle the block twice to find a parking space near the sheriff’s station in Durante. It wasn’t until he high-stepped it down the street past a real estate office, coffee shop and fitness club and pushed through the double glass doors, that he began to breathe again. But only barely. His mind felt cloudy, stuffed, as if he’d been caught in a spinning sandstorm back in Iraq.
The neighboring town’s sheriff was someone Matt considered an “unknown quantity.” He hadn’t put Brodie firmly in either the friend or enemy column as he didn’t personally have any real beef with the man. That said, Matt knew plenty who did. Sean Brodie had grown up in Butterfly Harbor, palled around with Gil Hamilton, which hadn’t earned him many points. The fact he’d been angling for Luke Saxon’s job not so long ago didn’t work in his favor. Still, near as Matt could tell, Brodie was a straight shooter who got the job done.
“You made pretty good time,” Brodie said as he waved him back.
“Might have pushed a few speed limits along the way.” Matt returned the offered handshake. He kept his voice even and friendly in case things with Hack weren’t as cut and dried as she’d been led to believe. “How’s Hack, er, Kendall?” After all these years, he still had trouble remembering to use the former grunt’s real name.
“Doing okay, all things considered. Looked exhausted so I put her in one of the cells. Door’s open,” he added with a quick lift of his hand when Matt jumped to conclusions. “No need to lock her up. Accident wasn’t her fault, but it sure looks like it took the wind out of her sails.”
Hack’s sails had been ripped apart years ago, but that wasn’t his story to tell. “Good to know.”
“Didn’t realize until she hung up she’s a friend of yours.”