Finding the Road Home

by Tina Radcliffe

  “Daisy, I’ve been responsible for others all my life. I’ve got a bit of experience,” he said.

  “I understand. But sometimes protection isn’t what people need.” She paced back and forth, her sandals slapping against the porch floor. Then she stopped and faced him. “Are you mad?”

  “This isn’t about being mad.” No, this was much more than that. He moved down the porch steps, his footfalls heavy. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  Mitch nodded and kept walking. He released a breath while his mind scrambled to figure out how he was going to keep the people he cared about safe. It seemed every time he thought his plans were working, everything fell apart.

  And he couldn’t be responsible for losing one more person he cared about.

  * * *

  “It’s raining.” Daisy bounced PJ on her hip and stared out at the watery landscape through the kitchen window. The scent of wet grass and clean air whispered through the screen of the open back door. A slight breeze shivered the trees, causing a tiny rainfall to dance upon the glass. There was something cleansing about rain, reminding her of starting over and second chances. She rolled her eyes at the irony. This was the background music of her life lately.

  When a small plop-plop sounded, followed by another, Daisy whirled around, searching for the source.

  “No. No. No.” Drops of moisture landed in a puddle on the stove. Daisy pulled a bowl from the cupboard and set it on a burner beneath the drips. When she turned, a splash of water hit her face. PJ laughed as Daisy jostled the baby, while she scrambled to grab a second bowl from the cupboard and place it on the counter. When drops started in a third location, she looked up and confirmed the truth. A wet ceiling, which meant a leaky roof. Because that was what she needed on top of everything else.

  How would she bake pies if the kitchen flooded?

  “Oh, my, dear. That’s not good.”

  Daisy turned at the sound of her grandmother, who stood in the doorway wearing a sleepy smile and bunny slippers as her gaze assessed the ceiling.

  “And the air conditioner died last night,” Daisy said flatly. “Fortunately, the kids are still sleeping.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask. Does the coffeemaker still work?”

  “Yes. It’s a fresh pot.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Gran, I don’t know how you manage to stay calm through everything.”

  “What are my choices? Worry doesn’t move God. So what’s the point?” Her grandmother placed a worn leather-bound Bible on the table. “‘Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.’” She grinned. “I do so enjoy coffee with my morning supplication.”

  “I know you’re right. However, those ominous dark clouds keep taunting me.”

  “Isn’t this unusual weather for July in Oklahoma? I heard that August is more likely to have rain here.”

  “Who knows? Four days in a row. This has to be some sort of record. I’m thinking it might be time to consider an arc.”

  Her grandmother laughed as she reached into the cupboard for a mug. “Aren’t you late for work?”

  “I’m waiting for a call back from the HVAC guy, but his office wasn’t hopeful. They tell me he’s swamped. Pun intended.” She looked at her grandmother. “And that means with the rain, you’re stuck inside a hot house with five kids.”

  “It’s fine. We have plenty of Popsicles, and for some reason they’re really into Chutes and Ladders right now.”

  Daisy chuckled, and immediately an image of Mitch at her kitchen table surrounded by children flashed through her mind. She’d been thinking about that sight since Thursday night.

  “What about you, sweetie? Did you sleep at all? You put your fan in Seth’s room.”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s only an eight-hour shift. Although without Roscoe to keep me on my toes, I’ll definitely need more caffeine.”

  “The kids keep telling me they had a great time with Mitch the other night,” her grandmother mused.

  “Uh-huh,” Daisy said. She did not want to think about how disappointed her boss was with her on top of all the other issues hammering inside her head. No, she’d already lost enough sleep thanks to the heat and thinking about Mitch the last few days.

  “That’s all you have to say?” Alice prodded.

  “For now, it is.”

  An hour later Daisy pulled open the door to the Rebel Police Department.

  “Daisy, are you okay?” Henna asked.

  “Fine. Why?”

  “You always beat me here. I was a little concerned.”

  “I had to make some phone calls.” Daisy glanced around. “Where’s the chief?”

  “With Roscoe out of commission, he’s patrolling.”

  “Already? No Monday morning staff meeting?”

  “He said there wasn’t enough staff to justify a staff meeting.”

  “And Roscoe?”

  “He sent him to the community center. The chief said it was time to escalate our efforts.” Henna stepped closer. “Any idea what’s going on with Mitch?”

  “Why?”

  “He was in a surly mood. Even Roscoe kept his mouth closed.” She shook her head. “I would have thought he’d be happy to hear that the cherub had been recovered before we made the front page.”

  Daisy studied the duty calendar, not eager to touch that comment. She turned to Henna. “How’s Roscoe doing?”

  “Are you kidding? Every officer in this department, except the chief, has given him high fives, kudos and invites to lunch and dinner. He’s a hero.”

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  “So what’s it been like driving without a partner?”

  “I never thought I would miss Roscoe’s random metaphors on life. But I sort of do.” She looked at Henna. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

  Henna held two fingers over her heart in a solemn pledge. “Never.” Then she nodded toward the familiar Eagle Donut box on the counter. “Monday donut? It wasn’t easy, but I saved you a cream-filled maple bar.”

  Daisy chuckled. “I appreciate that. Maybe later. Though I will take a fill-up of coffee. My energy level peaked an hour ago. Nine a.m. and I’m dragging.”

  Henna peered closer as Daisy poured coffee into her travel mug.

  “No offense, Dais’, but you look rough. Did you get any sleep?”

  “Sleep is overrated.”

  “The kids?” She clucked with sympathy.

  “No. The house.” Daisy sighed. “It rained last night.”

  “Indeed it did. A gully washer.”

  “So everyone keeps saying. The gully washer brought on a roof leak followed by the demise of the air conditioner. I’m waiting on the AC guy, and I don’t have a clue who to call about the roof.”

  “Oh, my. What can I do to help?”

  “Pray the rain stops.”

  “You know what? I’ll pray, and then I’ll call my uncle. He does construction and roofing. My brothers work for him during the busy season.”

  “Henna, my budget is very, um, thin.”

  “You have to get it fixed. They’ll give you the Rebel PD discount. Ask Mitch. They did work on his house. They’re reliable.” Henna pulled out her phone. “My weather app says no rain for the rest of the week, then we have another front coming in.”

  “More rain?” Daisy’s shoulders sagged.

  “Not to worry. I’ll have my brothers out to assess the damage before you get home from work today.”

  “How can you possibly?”

  “I’m the big sister. That’s how. They owe me so many favors.”

  That evening Daisy pulled into her driveway and gazed out at the gray-cloaked world. Her mind was stuck on a horrible image. Her bank a
ccount. She’d told the HVAC guy to go ahead with the air compressors and the extra installation costs. The nest egg she had set aside for emergencies would be depleted in no time.

  Add to that the humiliating fact that her boss was avoiding her.

  When she’d stopped at the diner for her carryout sandwich, she’d seen him across the street coming out of the Rebel Police Department. He’d averted his gaze and completely ignored her greeting, instead striding up the street and ducking into the Piggly Wiggly. It was possible that he didn’t hear her with the trash truck lumbering down the street, but Daisy preferred to err on the side of paranoia. Mitch had dissed her.

  It was time to address the issue. She got out of the van and headed in the house.

  “Gran, I’m going to change my clothes and take that lemon meringue to a friend. I’ll be back shortly.”

  “Of course. Oh, and Mr. Eagle and his nephews were here to inspect the roof. They’ll be starting on Friday.” Her grandmother waved an estimate paper in the air. “This is a ridiculously low bid.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I called around.” She smiled. “Do you think I just sit around here all day and look good?”

  “Never that.” Daisy opened the refrigerator.

  “Will you be home for dinner?”

  “Of course, it’s my turn. Macaroni and cheese night.”

  “Sweetheart, the kids have requested Mitch’s recipe.”

  Daisy huffed. “I’ve been outclassed by my boss?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll get the recipe or bring home a pizza. Promise.”

  Daisy headed back toward town. She drove slowly down Oak Road until she spotted Mitch’s silver pickup in the driveway of a small one-story brick home. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth when she pulled up to the curb and parked. She’d never done anything so bold, but she had to make things right between herself and Mitch.

  Daisy grabbed the pie box and checked her reflection in the mirror. Henna was right. She looked like a train wreck. There were dark circles under eyes, and her hair was a frizzy halo thanks to the humidity. She clipped it to the back of her head and applied a quick swipe of lip gloss.

  Then she froze.

  What was she doing?

  This was Mitch.

  She walked up the tidy cobblestone path to the house. The brick colonial was framed with climbing ivy. In front of the house, pots overflowed with scarlet begonias welcoming guests. This was Mitch’s house? Somehow she’d imagined it less manicured and more...rustic.

  She rapped on the burgundy door with its polished brass knocker, and it swung open.

  “Daisy?” Mitch’s dark eyes widened. In a ratty gray T-shirt and a pair of old faded jeans with holes, the man looked really, really good.

  This was her second bad idea in less than a week.

  He stared at her as an awkward silence stretched.

  “This is for you.” She fairly shoved the pie box at him, and spun on her heel as cowardice set in.

  “Wait,” Mitch called.

  She turned back.

  “Come on in.”

  “I guess I could.” She paused. “For a minute.”

  Daisy stepped into the house and glanced around. Polished oak floors were the focus of the little house, with a color palette of copper, rust and forest green. The living room held solid, comfortable furniture and a giant showpiece fireplace. The room could easily be in a magazine spread. Not a single Lego, muddy sneaker or broken crayon in sight.

  She remembered this. Yes, this was what her life used to be like. Orderly and calm. Now she struggled to find ten minutes of peace in the shower at the end of the day, and a single piece of clean clothing by the weekend.

  Her sister, Deb, had always seemed so organized. Daisy sighed. Maybe she wasn’t doing this parenting thing right.

  “Nice house,” she said to Mitch. A total understatement.

  “Thanks, I did most of the work myself.”

  “Your hobby?”

  “Sure. I do a little home repair. It’s good therapy.”

  “Therapy for what?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Whatever. Everything and anything.”

  “I thought you don’t have issues.”

  Mitch narrowed his eyes. “I don’t. However, I do sometimes need time to think things through, and working on the floors or painting the bathroom helps.” He shrugged. “Besides, I thought I’d flip this house when I finish getting the yard in shape.”

  A black-and-white cat wandered into the room and jumped onto the back of the couch like a dainty aerialist, purring before she knocked her head into Mitch.

  “You have a cat?”

  “This is BB. Blind Betty. I’m fostering her.”

  “Really. How long?”

  “Oh, no doubt, forever.”

  Daisy smiled at the answer.

  “That’s Mutt, my other foster.” He nodded toward the corner where a massive tan dog lay on an oversize pillow bed, snoring.

  “Guard dog?” she teased.

  “Absolutely.”

  Daisy sniffed the air, and her stomach growled in response to the amazing aroma floating past her. “What’s that smell?”

  “Something smells?”

  “In a good way.”

  “Must be the slow cooker. I’ve got barbecue chicken in there.”

  “Slow cooker. That’s genius. I have to remember that.” She did a sweep of the room and shook her head. “I have to tell you this is all so...”

  “So what?”

  “Domestic.”

  Mitch laughed. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Oh, I’m not disappointed. However, it’s obvious I profiled you, and I am thoroughly ashamed of myself.”

  “Didn’t I do that on your first day on the job?”

  Daisy jerked back slightly at the words. “Why, yes, you did.”

  “Maybe we’re both evolving as people.”

  “I like that and promise to do better in the future.”

  “Same here.” He tapped the pie box in his hands. “May I offer you a piece of the best pie in the county?”

  She smiled. “No, thank you. I will, however, take your secret mac and cheese recipe and a cup of coffee.”

  He chuckled. “I can do that. You want decaf?”

  “Leaded is good. I won’t be sleeping anyhow.”

  “Why not?”

  “Long story.”

  “Okay,” he said when she didn’t elaborate. “Follow me.”

  Daisy followed him, and paused at a table filled with framed pictures. “Your family?”

  “Yeah. Have you met Tucker yet?”

  “I have not had the pleasure. His daughters are beautiful.”

  “And that’s Kate and Reece.” He picked up a smaller silver frame. “And Levi.”

  She noted Levi was tall like Mitch, yet slim like Reece. A handsome young man. Her heart clutched at his loss. One she understood only too well. “That’s a good picture.”

  “Yeah. Gone too soon.” He nodded and carefully put the frame back on the table. “Let me show you the backyard. Come this way.”

  Daisy followed him through the kitchen, where he placed the pie on the counter, and into the yard.

  Outside the back door, a five-foot-tall cedar fence wrapped itself around the property. Tiny lights were strung around a pergola that boasted climbing clematis with radiant purple blossoms. Wrought-iron lawn chairs with plush canvas pillows surrounded a firepit. Mitch led her to a patio table.

  “You’re getting the yard in shape? What’s there to do? This is amazing.”

  “I want raised flower beds.”

  “Flowers?”

  “My mother liked flowers. Sort of in her honor. Lilacs and peonies. Fragrance.”

&nb
sp; She stared at him for a moment, realizing she’d not only put him in a box, she had completely underestimated the man the same way he’d underestimated her. Every single time she thought she had Mitch figured out, he surprised her.

  “Have a seat. I’ll get your coffee.”

  “The recipe too. I can’t return home without the recipe. They refuse to eat the powdered stuff because of you.”

  Daisy sat down and relaxed. The sound of running water from a small fountain nearly put her to sleep.

  Mitch returned with a carafe of coffee, mugs, sugar and cream on a silver tray.

  “Who are you, and what have you done with Chief Rainbolt?”

  “Don’t let the cowboy hat fool you. My mother made sure I had manners.”

  “Why do I think there’s a story there?”

  “There is. A long, boring one.”

  “I think you said that once before, but I doubt that anything about you is boring, Mitch.”

  He slid into the chair across from her and poured coffee into two mugs. “I emailed the recipe to your phone.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Ah, by the way, Daisy, you were right.”

  “Of course, I was.” She sipped the coffee. “What was I right about?”

  “Roscoe. He needed more responsibility. I put him in charge of the community center. Everything from volunteers to setting up the classroom schedules. Never seen him happier.”

  Daisy did a double take. He’d taken her advice? “That’s...that’s wonderful.”

  “Yep. It wasn’t easy, but this micromanager is trying.”

  “And here I thought you were mad at me.”

  “That’s why you threw that pie at me?”

  “I didn’t throw it. I was nervous.” She stared into the depths of the dark brew. “Have you been avoiding me?”

  “Yeah. I have.”

  She raised her head and met his gaze.

  “I was annoyed that you figured Roscoe out after six weeks, and I haven’t in all these years.” He took a deep breath. “I apologize.”

  Daisy nodded, though she knew there was more going on. Maybe more than Mitch was aware. Still. This was a step in the right direction. He was beginning to let go of the tight grip he had on control.

  His gaze was steady as it met hers. “So we’re good?” He touched her hand as he asked.