Sherry Lewis - Count on a Cop

by Her Secret Family

  She shook her head quickly. Even if she was right, she hadn’t seen Mason since the night of their argument. She wouldn’t know what to say to him.

  She struggled to pay attention to what Thea was telling her about a large painting of a woman with an eagle, but the words faded in and out and she couldn’t have repeated Thea’s story if her life depended on it. Maybe Captain Eisley was right. Maybe she wasn’t focused enough to do the job. The cast on her arm and the gash on her leg certainly seemed to prove his point.

  Suddenly the man she’d spotted earlier was standing right in front of them. Even before Jolene could process that it really was Mason—with Debra, Thea gasped. “Mason Blackfox? Is that you?”

  He made no effort to hide his surprise at seeing Jolene there, but he managed a smile for the older woman. “Hello, Thea. It’s been a while.”

  “Too long.” Thea’s delight at seeing Mason seemed so genuine, Jolene wondered again that he could distance himself from the people he’d known as a child. “And you must be Debra,” Thea said to the girl whose huge brown eyes reflected a curiosity at least equal to Jolene’s. “Ike told me you were here visiting your dad. Are you having a good time so far?”

  Debra curled a lip. “It’s all right, I guess.” She turned her attention to Jolene. “You’re all banged up. What happened?”

  “I had an accident at work,” Jolene said, embarrassed. “We’re neighbors,” she explained to Thea. Mason’s the one who suggested the books I’ve been reading.”

  “Is that right?” Thea’s smile grew even warmer. “I am glad to hear that, Mason. I was afraid you’d forgotten all about us.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” he said in that tight, clipped voice Jolene had come to recognize.

  Thea didn’t seem to notice. “I’m glad. It’s good to remember where you come from.”

  “I’m just here with Debra,” Mason said. “She’s writing a report for school, and I promised to bring her.” What he didn’t say echoed in the room. I won’t be back. And the way he so carefully avoided eye contact with Jolene made her suspect that he hadn’t changed his mind about anything else, either.

  Thea slipped an arm around Debra’s shoulders and walked slowly, leaving Jolene and Mason to bring up the rear. “I’m sure you’re curious about your people. Anything you want to know, Debra, feel free to ask. If I don’t know the answers, I know where to find them.”

  It was an opening Jolene wouldn’t have been able to pass up, and she was pretty sure Debra would take it, too. Sure enough, Debra turned that oh-so-innocent smile of hers on Thea. “There is one thing I want to know,” she said, using her big brown eyes to their best advantage. “Did you know my grandparents?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  HAD IT BEEN ANYONE but Thea High Eagle who’d just offered to tell Debra about her grandparents, Mason might’ve knocked some sense into them. Unfortunately, because he’d known Thea forever and he’d always respected her, because he knew how deeply showing disrespect to her would have disappointed Henry, and because Jolene was watching him like a hawk, he bit back what he really wanted to say.

  But that didn’t mean he had to stand idly by and let Thea expose Debra to everything he’d worked so hard to protect her from.

  “I knew both of your grandparents,” Thea was saying to Debra. “What do you want to know?”

  “Nothing.” Mason wedged himself between them and locked eyes with his daughter. “You know how I feel about that, Debra.”

  “Yeah. It’s all some big, dark secret.” Debra hooked her thumbs in her back pockets and looked at Thea. “He won’t even talk to me about them.”

  “No, I won’t, and neither will anybody else. I know you mean well, Thea, but this subject is closed.”

  Tiny lines formed over the bridge of Thea’s nose. “Maybe you and I should talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  “Oh, but I think there is.”

  The years peeled away, and he followed her toward the door feeling just as he had at eleven when Thea caught him starting the fire in the Dumpster. She’d never told Henry about that, or about half a dozen other escapades she knew about. Like it or not, he owed her more than respect.

  In the corridor, she moved a safe distance from the doorway, then turned to face him. “Is there a problem?”

  “Yeah, there is. I don’t want Debra to know about my parents.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s young. She’s struggling with a few issues herself. I remember what it did to me when I figured out what was going on at my house, and I don’t want her to go through that.”

  Thea’s smile evaporated. “You don’t think she has a right to know?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “They were her grandparents.”

  “They didn’t deserve to be.”

  “That’s unworthy of you, Mason. Your mother had a rough life. There were things that happened in her childhood that affected her until the day she died. Your refusal to forgive her doesn’t serve anyone.”

  Mason clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. “That’s just an excuse. We all have issues. They can stop you in your tracks if you let them. But there comes a point when a person has to take responsibility for what they do. Forget what somebody else did to them and just step up.”

  “Forget,” Thea mused. “The way you have?”

  “I’m trying, okay? And excusing my mother’s choices because she had a rough childhood is just wrong.”

  “I’m not talking about excusing,” Thea told him. “I’m talking about understanding and forgiving. You need to do that—for yourself, not for her.”

  How many times had Henry told him the same thing? Forgive her, Mason. Let it go.

  “What possible good would it do to tell Debra about my parents?” he asked, hoping that if Thea stopped to think for a minute, she’d acknowledge that some things were better left alone.

  “There’s no way for us to know that, is there? If she’s this curious, there must be a reason.”

  “Yeah, to make me miserable.”

  Thea put a hand on his arm, the way she had when his mother fell into a display of her baskets, crushing them in front of the whole community. In the murmur of voices coming from the exhibit hall, he imagined the laughter that had driven him almost crazy with embarrassment and hatred.

  “I know how you feel,” Thea said, pulling him back to the present with her soft voice. “I understand it. But you came to your parents for a reason. Whether you acknowledge it or not, they had something valuable to teach you. That value doesn’t diminish simply because you don’t approve of their methods.”

  “The only thing either of them ever taught me,” he said, biting off each word carefully, “was the value of staying sober.”

  “And you discount the value of that?”

  Thea’s knowing smile nudged his irritation a few degrees higher. “No, but I think I could have learned it some other way.”

  “I’m sure you could have, but maybe it was the pain of the experience that made the lesson so memorable.”

  “With all due respect, Thea, I’d rather skip the philosophy lesson. All I’m asking is that you respect my wishes when it comes to Debra. Will you do that?”

  He saw disapproval in her eyes, but she nodded. “If you feel that strongly about it.”

  She really had no idea.

  PLEASANTLY FULL from the dinner she’d had delivered, Jolene carried the nearly empty Chinese food containers into the kitchen and put them in the refrigerator. She’d been trying all evening to stop thinking about Mason—and Debra, of course—but no matter what she did, they were always there.

  They’d parted company after that brief conversation with Thea, and Jolene wasn’t sure yet whether she was glad of that or not. Less than thirty minutes later, she’d seen Mason and Debra leaving, and she’d been dying of curiosity ever since to know how things were at their apartment.

  She wondered what Mason, who seemed almost obsess
ed with home cooking and balanced meals, would think if he saw the pathetic contents of her fridge. Two lonely yogurt containers, a six-pack of beer, half a jar of mayonnaise and now a little shrimp lo mein and rice.

  He seemed like a great guy. Hardworking. Reliable. Responsible. Honest—except, of course, when it came to his past. He seemed to genuinely love his daughter. So what was the big secret?

  She closed the refrigerator door and carried the fork, spoon and chopsticks she’d used to the sink. She could see her reflection in the window, hair sticking up every which way, eyes shadowed, face pale. She noticed a dark stain on the faded white of her favorite old T-shirt, and looked down to check.

  Soy sauce. All she wanted was one meal without dropping food on herself. Was that too much to ask? She wet a cloth and tried to scrub the stain out.

  She only succeeded in spreading the stain around a bit and gave up, swallowed a pain pill for the throbbing in her arm and put the prescription bottle away.

  Her cupboard was nearly empty. A jar of chunky peanut butter, half a loaf of bread, coffee and two cans of chicken noodle soup. Other than the bag of fun-size Snickers bars in her sock drawer, that was about it.

  She made a note to hit the grocery store sometime soon, and limped back to the living room. By the time she collapsed on the couch, she’d given up the pretense. Why spend time and money at the grocery store when it would be a waste?

  Other working women could go to the office at eight and come home at five, kick off their shoes, toss in a load of laundry and whip up a casserole. It wasn’t so easy when your eight-to-five life was filled with drug addicts and hellholes like the GemCrest warehouse. Balance, her mother always said. Jolene fumbled for the remote.

  She flipped through all the channels twice, then settled on a rerun of Monk, but she’d only watched about five minutes when her doorbell rang. Surprised, she turned off the TV and checked the peephole. Mason. Her heart beat faster, as she whipped open the door.

  Mason’s gaze traveled over her flannel Tweety Bird pajamas to her face, then circled back and started over—this time more slowly.

  While Jolene appreciated his interest, she refused to stand there while he ogled her dirty shirt. “Mason? Is everything okay?”

  She actually thought his cheeks flushed. “Fine. Did I come at a bad time?”

  She turned a rueful glance on the soy sauce stain and flicked at a stray hair with her finger. “Is that a serious question?”

  He smiled, slow and sexy. “You look good to me.”

  “You need your eyes checked.” He was back to his regular self, and Jolene was glad to see it. “Where’s Debra?”

  “At home. I’d like to talk to you alone, but I can’t stay long.”

  “That sounds serious.” She stepped aside to let him come in. “I just took a pain pill so I should be coherent for about ten minutes. Think that’s enough?”

  “I’ll talk fast.”

  “Perfect.” She led him into the living room and sat on the couch. “I’d offer you something to drink, but you wouldn’t like anything in my fridge. There’s water, though. I could—”

  He waved off the offer and sat beside her. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. How was your visit to the Cultural Center?”

  “Informative. Yours?”

  “Not as bad as I was afraid it would be. You met Thea.”

  Jolene nodded. “She seems very nice.”

  “She is. I’ve known her since I was a kid. She’s a tribal Elder and a master craftsman in basketry. She’s been a member of the board of directors for the Cherokee National Historical Society for years, and one of her sons used to be Deputy Chief.”

  “Are you talking about Elwood?”

  Mason shook his head. “That was Sam. Elwood is on the Environmental Protection Committee.”

  “Is that why you came to talk to me? Because of Thea?”

  Mason nodded.

  “I didn’t come to tell you who she is in the tribe. I came to tell you who she is to you. I thought you ought to know.”

  “To me?”

  “She’s your grandmother, Jolene.”

  The warm glow Jolene had been feeling evaporated. “You knew who she was, and you waited until now to tell me?”

  “You said you weren’t ready to know about your family, and I didn’t think you wanted me to make that kind of announcement in front of her.”

  “You’re right.” She pulled one of the decorative pillows onto her lap and plucked at the button in its center. She took a couple of minutes to process what he’d told her. “Did you tell her about me?”

  Mason shook his head. “I promised I wouldn’t, but I think you should tell her.”

  “Me?”

  “You want me to? I can.”

  She shook her head quickly. “Tempting…but no.”

  “She’s an incredible woman, and she’s very big on family. I think you’ll like her when you get to know her.”

  “She’s different from what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know. She was…” Every word that came to mind sounded wrong. Insulting. What had she expected? An old native woman with skin wrinkled by the sun? Someone who barely spoke English? She was as bad as her maternal grandparents. “She was younger than I expected,” she said, grasping at the only thing she could think of.

  “She’s probably in her midseventies by now. It’s good you’re coming into her life while there’s time.”

  Jolene ran back over their conversation, suddenly greedy to remember every detail. “That means that the artist who painted those floating boys is my cousin?”

  “One of about a dozen. Most of them are married with kids of their own.”

  “Are they all involved with the Center?”

  “Not all of them.”

  “Do they all live around here?”

  “Most of them. The whole family is very close.”

  Instinctively, Jolene tried to pull her knees up against her chest, but moving her thigh that much sent burning pain through her leg. She gasped. “Bad idea,” she murmured, closing her eyes while she struggled to get the pain under control.

  She opened them again to find Mason watching her from beneath beetle brows. “Are you all right?”

  She tried to joke, but her voice came out high and tight. “Compared to what?”

  He didn’t laugh. In fact, he looked annoyed. “Are you going to tell me what happened, or just leave me quietly going crazy with curiosity and worry?”

  It was probably wrong to let the concern on his face make her feel so good inside, but she couldn’t help herself. “It was an accident at work.”.

  “So you told Debra. What kind of accident?”

  “I fell.”

  “From where? The top of a building?”

  “No, just down a flight of stairs.”

  “How?”

  She could have told him a dozen stories to make the incident sound less threatening, less dangerous, but she had the disconcerting feeling that he’d be able to see right through them all. “My partner and I have been looking for someone. I got caught off guard.”

  The concern on his face grew with every word. “Somebody did this to you?”

  “Being injured is a risk that comes with the job.”

  “And your families know it.”

  “It comes with the territory, Mason. All things considered, the risk is relatively minor.” She was used to seeing the worry in her parents’ eyes, but the look on Mason’s face was new and it hit her hard. She couldn’t afford to have that image in her head when she went back to work or she’d freeze up for sure.

  “You have a broken arm,” he said with a jerk of his chin toward her cast. “What else?”

  “A cut on my leg. A couple of stitches on the side of my head.”

  “Because someone attacked you?”

  “In a manner of speaking, but—”

  “Where was your partner?”

  “Doing his job.”
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  “Apparently he wasn’t, or you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

  “If Ryan had been the one in back of the building, he’d be the one in the cast.” At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. She didn’t want to consider the possibility that Red had gone after her because he thought he could overpower her. “I’m a good cop, Mason. I can handle myself. Don’t start playing macho with me, acting like you think I need some guy to protect me or we’re going to have a real problem.”

  Mason held up both hands. “Sorry. That’s not what I meant. It’s just hard to see you that way. I shouldn’t…”

  Shouldn’t what? Shouldn’t care? That’s not what she wanted. But she was back to that same old dilemma that kept circling her mind—the one that defeated her every time it came up. How did Ryan and Eisley and the other married guys walk the line between their personal and professional lives? The idea that she might have to spend the rest of her life alone filled her with sadness.

  “I overreacted,” she said. “That whole subject is a touchy one for me right now.”

  Mason smiled and leaned over to kiss her as if it were something he did all the time. “You want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head and held on to the feeling of his lips on hers so she could remember it later. “It’s nothing. My boss has a tough time with women on the force, and he’s busting my chops right now. But it’s okay. I can handle him.”

  “He’s busting your chops because you’re a woman?”

  “That’s my take.”

  “Can’t you go over his head? I thought gender bias was illegal.”

  “It is, but trust me, complaining will only make things worse. Even the guys who are okay with women in the ranks get edgy when we start flinging the gender card around. It’s far better to just take your lumps and prove yourself.”

  “How many lumps are you expected to take?”

  She grinned. “Twice as many as a man. Piece of cake.”

  Mason was laughing when he bent to kiss her again. When he pulled away, he was serious. He cupped her cheek in his hand and traced a slow pattern with his thumb while his eyes searched hers. She had no idea what he was looking for, but she hoped desperately she had the right answers.