Loving the Lawman

by Ruth Logan Herne

  Now?

  Every child deserved to have a mother and father, as God willed. His heart might not want to accept the fact of Gianna’s condition, but he’d seen the evidence over the past few weeks and knew Piper was most likely correct. Gianna was pregnant, and alone. And right now there was very little that could make that right in Seth’s book.

  * * *

  “Should we stop taking special orders once summer draws near?” Gianna asked Carmen the following week. “And how many people should we hire for summer help? And when should we start doing interviews?”

  Carmen didn’t look up as she “walked” her sewing machine needle around thick layers for the Han Solo vest. “We should cut down on special orders, perhaps, but I can keep sewing throughout the summer. You will be busy with the babies. We will hire help for the store, and I will be right here, sewing. So if extra help is needed, I am available,” she finished, eyes trained on the fleece-lined garment.

  “You’re talking some long hours, Grandma,” Gianna scolded. Her grandmother wasn’t young, but she was the youngest septuagenarian Gianna had ever met.

  Carmen waved off the warning. “When you come to a land of plenty as a child you appreciate much. Long hours, bah. I will be in my glory, meeting folks, sewing and seeing our dream come to life in this pretty community. Have you asked Seth about painting the extra bedroom?”

  She hadn’t seen Seth to ask him, and it seemed a silly thing to call about when he lived across the street. He’d been working day and night. She knew that because his windows were visible from her kitchen. And whether he was there or not, his yard and drive were lit up each night, breaking the veil of darkness. The flow of light made the classic gambrel-roofed Dutch colonial look welcoming. The old-fashioned front porch invited company to step up. Sit. Stay awhile. She could imagine a spread of red geraniums flanking the porch, catching the summer sun. And hostas beneath the thick-trunked deciduous trees shading the yard.

  It was a lot of house for a single guy, so most likely Seth Campbell had a story. Something that caused the ache in his eyes when he gazed across the lake. The way he’d stop now and again to scan the road leading into town.

  But Gianna had her own story to write at the moment, and her focus was self-centered: to bring this pregnancy to a successful conclusion. Hearing two heartbeats at the doctor’s office the previous week? Music to her ears. She kept working as she answered the question about Seth and paint. “I haven’t seen him, but I’ll ask when I do.”

  “I’ve got that fresh batch of iced lemon bread on the counter,” Carmen suggested. “Take him a loaf when he’s home and ask about the painting. The fumes might make you sick as you get further along....”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Gianna admitted. “I was thinking we could just open the windows in spring and the paint smell would be fine.”

  “Once the air gets humid, you extend drying time,” Carmen reminded her. “I always liked to paint in the winter because the heat from the furnace makes things dry quickly, but I want to do whatever keeps you comfortable.”

  Gianna got up, crossed the room and hugged her grandmother. “You are a treasure. I don’t know what I’d do without you these past years, but especially now.”

  “And your mother will be less than pleased that I knew your secret and didn’t tell her.” Carmen met Gianna’s gaze. “We will both be in big trouble, but it is worth it because what you’re doing is noble, Gianna. Difficult, but noble.”

  “I am making things as right as I can,” Gianna corrected her. “Nobility has nothing to do with it, Grandma. And as long as I’ve interrupted my work, I think I’ll take your suggestion and run a loaf of bread across the street and check on the painting. I think a pretty yellow would be a good base coat, don’t you? Maybe trimmed in greens and blues?”

  “A cheerful nursery filled with love. Yes.” Carmen waved her on. “And tomorrow we have been invited to the Campbells’ house for Sunday dinner. I said yes. I hope that is fine with you?”

  They needed to connect with people within the villages and the outlying areas. Gianna understood the importance of weaving themselves into the fabric of the town. Networking in small communities was more crucial than a big-city venue because small towns had a limited clientele. So yes, getting to know Seth’s big family was a good thing. “His mother has been very nice.”

  Jenny Campbell had made it a point to stop by a couple of times, chatting before she went on her way. Gracious, fun and attractive, the petite woman made folks smile in her presence. Like her son, Gianna realized, because as she walked up his wide, sloping driveway, the thought of him made her smile. But when he swung open the broad side door and saw her, he didn’t look pleased. Chagrined, maybe? Or annoyed.

  But why? Realizing she knew little about her neighbor, she powered her ego with a deep breath and extended the foil-wrapped loaf. “Grandma sent this over. It’s her famous lemon bread. I think you’ll like it.”

  He eyed the loaf, then her. Angst and something else pressed his mouth into a hard line. He worked his jaw, rubbed a hand to the back of his neck and seemed trapped.

  Which was beyond ridiculous, because she came across the street carrying a loaf of bread, not a marriage proposal. Gianna took a step back. “Look, I’m sorry if the bread offends you. It’s really pretty good, but I’ll tell Gram you’re going low carb for a couple of weeks to get into shape.”

  His expression didn’t look one bit friendlier after her barbed remark. “I’m in shape, so she’s not likely to believe that.”

  “Well, one can never be too careful.” She pulled her coat tighter around herself, knowing she’d fit into it only for a matter of weeks. She’d had to start wearing maternity pants the past few days. Her old trick of expanding the waistband of her normal pants by looping a ponytail band through the eye and around the button wasn’t working any longer.

  “You’ll ‘pop’ faster with twins,” Julia had advised. Less than two weeks later the babies proved her right. Right now she was hoping her coat would button—at least on top—until the end of February. But at this rate she might not make Valentine’s Day. In the hill country that could make for a long, cold, end of winter.

  “You’re cold, come in here.”

  That wasn’t about to happen. Gianna took another step back, ready to end the disastrous conversation. “No worries, home is just across the street.”

  “Give me the bread, Gianna.”

  She sent him a look that could have frozen the Arctic, because that was about how her toes felt at that moment. Cramped, cold and unprepared for standing on the snow-dusted step at his side door. “You don’t have to take it, it’s all right. Yes, it will hurt Gram’s feelings, but—”

  Seth reached out, grabbed her hand and unceremoniously ushered her into the house. “Up.” He pointed up the four steps to his first floor, and she had little choice because six-foot-plus of square-shouldered, rock-jawed Campbell stood between her and the door.

  “I have to get back. Gram’s expecting me.” Gram was doing no such thing, but the last thing Gianna intended to do was deal with her neighbor’s grumpy mood. She’d come over to make a reasonable request of her landlord.

  Right now? She was bound and determined to head home and paint the room herself.

  * * *

  “She knows where you are.” Gianna’s reaction said Seth’s gruff tone hurt. The set of her chin compounded his reasoning. And that made him feel worse, to make a pregnant woman feel bad. What was the matter with him? It wasn’t as if what she did mattered to him.

  But it did. Kind of. And it probably mattered to some poor schmo who had no idea she’d gone off to start a new life carrying his child.

  You’re assuming. You’re a cop—you know firsthand what assumptions do. They generally wind up being wrong and making people look stupid. Ask the woman. You’ve got nothing to l
ose.

  Part of him hated the truth in that, but as he stepped forward to talk to her, the phone rang. He saw the “unknown caller” readout and snatched the phone off the cradle quickly. “Tori. Is that you? How are you, honey? I miss you.”

  Gianna set the loaf of bread on the counter and slipped back through the kitchen door, down the stairs and into the frigid, thin afternoon light.

  He stared after her, knowing he’d messed up, but Tori’s soft voice held him in place. “I want to come home, Daddy. I just want to come home. Please?”

  His throat seized. His gut twisted. Emotion made him grip the phone with unnecessary vigor. “I want that, too, honey. Is your mother there?”

  “No.” Again the whisper. “But her boyfriend is, and he won’t be happy if he catches me on the phone.”

  Helplessness put a choke hold on Seth’s voice. “I’d love to have you here, Tori. You’re my little girl. You’ll always be my little girl, my sunshine.”

  A thin strand of silence stretched the moment, but then he heard the old familiar tune they shared, only this time her voice wasn’t full of childhood joy. This time her words were tiny and whispered as she avoided discovery by her mother’s current boyfriend. The familiar words came out uneven as she sang “You Are My Sunshine.”

  He whispered back, repeating the old lyrics. But when he started into the verse about how much he loved her, a choked-back sob on her end broke the next familiar line and his heart. Again.

  God, if You can hear me, if You can hear her, please look out for her, guide her to safety, give her mother compassion and grace to seek what’s best for her child. Dear Lord, Father God, hear the plea of Your son and daughter and bring my baby back home to me. Please.

  He couldn’t sing the last phrase, the final lament too dear to his heart. He paused, waiting to hear her voice, then realized the line had gone dead.

  He hit the callback code.

  Nothing. She’d blocked it again, and that meant she was sure to get into trouble if Jasmine knew she’d contacted him.

  He stared at the phone, hating it. Yes, he wanted contact with her, but not like this. Dear Father in heaven, not like this, tiny furtive seconds as if the love of a father for his child was wrong.

  She’s not your child, his conscience reminded him. If she were, you wouldn’t be in this situation. It was foolishness and lack of foresight and follow-through that created this situation. And that falls at your doorstep. Nowhere else.

  Child of his heart, if not his blood.

  He set the phone down tenderly, as if treating it with care would ensure Tori would find a similar fate. But the fear in her voice...

  The heightened note of worry...

  Made him suspect that wouldn’t be the case. If there was evidence of a crime, he could pull out the stops and use the resources of the sheriff’s department to begin a new search, but until he knew otherwise, the law was on Jasmine’s side, all because he hadn’t pushed for the adoption the way he should have. And that made him feel like a first-class heel.

  Chapter Six

  “I wonder if he sleeps.”

  “Who?” Gianna turned toward the kitchen early Sunday morning and caught the gist of her grandmother’s speculation as she spotted Seth shoveling his driveway with more speed than should have been humanly possible. “Why do you say that?”

  “I was up in the night to take my pills and his lights were on. And here he is, shoveling our drive and his before church. He must be plumb worn-out, is all.”

  “Your lemon cake either revived him or made him sick,” Gianna supposed.

  Carmen sent her a tart look. “Or life is throwing him curves, same as it does to most.”

  Gianna wasn’t about to buy into that excuse for the guy’s gruff behavior the previous day. He’d gone from flirting with her—which she didn’t want, need or enjoy...although she had enjoyed it, she admitted to herself, and that felt wrong under the circumstances—to making her feel unwelcome at his door. No matter how good-looking and clean-cut the guy was, he had a chip on his shoulder, and drama was the last thing on her wish list for a snowy Sunday. Maybe he wouldn’t be at his parents’ home that afternoon. Maybe he was working a Sunday shift.

  Better yet, a double.

  His absence would leave her in peace to think and pray about the choices she’d made over the past six months. Choices that made her feel ridiculously good one moment and perched on the brink of tears the next, so whatever Seth Campbell’s issues were, he could keep them to himself, and they’d both be better off for it.

  She forced a slower pace for Gram’s sake as they walked the two blocks to the historic hillside church overlooking the frozen lake. Two weeks ago Seth had made it a point to walk with them. Sit with them. Right now she was hoping he’d made his peace with whomever Tori was and that they’d be wonderfully happy together forevermore because the last thing she wanted in her life was another policeman.

  The fact that the policeman seemed quite okay about not pursuing a relationship with her left a nasty internal scar on her ego.

  * * *

  Seth pulled into his parents’ drive late that afternoon. He’d been tempted to skip the traditional gathering, but the big game was today and his mother had a knack for handling a crowd of football-loving family and friends for the early February tradition. And since his favorite team hadn’t made the play-offs, much less the championship, he really didn’t care all that much, but his family did. Once a Campbell, always a Campbell.

  Parked cars lined the road’s edge. Three familiar little faces screeched his name from the door as he approached the house.

  “Uncle Seth!”

  “He’s here, Grandma! He came!”

  “Uncle Seth, I’ve missed you this much, and look!” One of the twins—Dorrie, he realized as he drew closer and saw the telltale purple ribbon in her wavy dark hair—was now sporting a gap in the center of her mouth.

  “You lost a tooth?” He stooped low, examined the tiny space and hugged her tight. “Did you find money under your pillow this morning?”

  “Oh, yes.” She hugged him back and whispered in his ear, “And Mommy says I’m not to brag about it because Aiden’s teeth are just starting to wiggle, and Sonya’s aren’t wiggling in the least little bit so she kind of feels bad.”

  Little-kid speak.

  The soft breath of a child at his ear.

  The lofted excitement in her attempt to whisper.

  All of it made him think of Tori. He’d prayed all night, then again this morning. He’d circled the lake and gone to the early service at Bemus Point, not wanting to face family and friends quite yet. Would he ever heal? Would he ever get to a place of comfort?

  Yes, with God’s help, but today had been hard. So hard.

  “Seth!” His mother shooed the children back inside, scolding. “Guys, you’re freezing us out with the door wide-open like that. Hustle, get back in there and let me close this door and hug your uncle. He looks like he could use a hug, good food and great company. All of which he’ll find here if you actually let him through the door.”

  Sonya peeked up with a sweet smile for him. Aiden high-fived him, then raced off to tackle his father in the main living room. Seth kept Dorrie in his arms, safe and sound, relishing the feeling. “Smells good, Mom.”

  Her expression said she read him like an open book. She always had. She blinked back sadness and touched his face. Just that one, simple caress. She knew. She cared. She prayed daily. He had to believe that somehow, someway, those prayers would be answered.

  “Dorrie, would you take these chips out to the front room, please?”

  “Sure!”

  Dorrie wriggled out of Seth’s grasp, grabbed the bowl of chips and dashed to the front as fast as she could in case anyone was in danger of starvation.

 
His mother started to say something, but he shook his head. “Not now, okay? Let’s focus on football for the moment.”

  “Football it is.” She handed him a warm casserole of cheese-and-artichoke dip. “We’ll lose ourselves in hot food, a good game and great conversation.”

  It sounded doable to Seth, until he turned the corner leading into the sprawling family room and ran into Gianna.

  “Oh. Sorry.” She looked flustered, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of their awkward meeting yesterday or if she’d been hoping he might not show up. Probably both. “I didn’t see you.”

  “My fault.” He eased by her, wondering why his mother saw fit to invite strangers to a family gathering. As he set the dip onto the table near the sectional, an embroidered wall hanging drew his attention. “Whatsoever you do to the least of my people...”

  He needed to grasp a bigger helping of his mother’s Christianity because his was clearly lacking. He turned, determined to be nice because he had no reason to not be nice, and the first thing he spotted was Gianna’s pale face as she wrinkled her nose. A sheen of sweat broke out on her upper lip. Her throat contracted. Without a word, Seth took her arm and steered her up the stairs, away from the game-day mix of foods. “Sit right here. I’ll get you some crackers.”

  She didn’t argue, and he considered that a minor victory. He grabbed plain crackers just as Piper and Zach came through the door with Zach’s father and his two young nephews.

  “I know that look.” Zach commiserated as he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “But I’m sorry you’re still going through it. Piper got better about a week back.”

  Gianna flashed Piper and Zach a weak smile of acknowledgment. “Twins.”

  Two babies. With no father in the picture. Seth’s heart did a funny twist in his chest.

  “Really?” Piper sank onto the sofa alongside Gianna and grasped her hand. “Twice the fun, and work, but we won’t dwell on that aspect of it right now.” She lay a hand atop her belly. “I’m due Independence Day. How about you?”