“How’s Sadie?”
“Rotten,” she said with a grin. “The day I saw you, she escaped from her kennel, nudged open the pantry door and ate two boxes of cereal before I came home. What about Sludge?”
“He’s the same as always. Last night he attacked the football I was throwing and howled at the mail carrier.”
Recalling how harried Gen had looked when she’d left the café, he said, “Was everything okay after your call? You left in a hurry.”
“More or less. A semi had collided with a car on I-275 and the department needed some support.” Eyes clouding, Gen shook her head. “It was touch and go for a while, but everyone involved ended up okay.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Gen gestured to Sam. “I heard you and Sam know each other.”
“We do.” Cary laughed. “I think everyone here pretty much knows each other. And their mothers, fathers and grade-school teachers.”
“He said your father was with the church.”
“Yeah. A minister.” Interested in finding out why she was asking, he said, “Are you looking for a church or something?”
“Oh my goodness, no.”
Her tone took him off guard. “Okay,” he answered, drawing out the word.
“Sorry, I guess that came out wrong. I meant to say I’ve never had time for that kind of stuff.”
Though her tone was light, Cary caught the edge of steel in it. “I see.”
She glanced his way again, all big blue eyes and wariness. “Hey, I hope I didn’t offend you.”
“Not at all.” He wasn’t offended...just disappointed. Gen Slate seemed covered in a hard shell, giving him little idea about what she was really like.
Did he really want to become involved with another woman who wasn’t honest about her feelings?
As he spied Dave and saw that his brother was now sitting with him, Cary stood. “Well, it was good to see you. I’m going to head on back and let Sam reclaim his seat.”
“Oh. All right.”
Cary’s heart softened as he noticed that same touch of confusion in her eyes he’d spied at the pet store. “Hey, be careful on patrol, Gen.”
A flash of humor—and vulnerability?—crossed her face before she tamped it down. “Don’t worry, Cary. I never let work stress me out.”
He was about to ask if she ever took time off when the crowd around them grumbled again.
“Mr. Hudson! You’re six feet two. Go play or move!” Kyle West called out from three rows up.
“Wish you cared as much about independent variables as this game, Kyle,” Cary retorted. “You blew yesterday’s quiz.”
Kyle paled. “Don’t tell my mom.”
As the crowd around them laughed and a wad of paper flew toward the freckle-faced junior, Cary made his way down the stands. Catching Mrs. West’s eye, he couldn’t resist winking at her. “I’m guessing she already knows,” he murmured, just as the referee called another time-out.
* * *
A WEEK LATER, MELISSA rapped two times on his door before barging in. “Uncle Cary? You home?”
Cary glanced at his watch. It was seven o’clock. Usually Melissa was either doing homework or talking on the phone at this time of night. “You okay?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m so glad you’re home. Dad’s working late and Brian’s still at practice.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, instantly concerned. Melissa looked to be on the verge of tears.
“Come see my car,” she said, her lip trembling. “Someone ruined all my tires! I don’t know how it could have happened.”
“Let’s go see.”
“It’s bad,” she said.
Grabbing a jacket and a cell phone, Cary followed her down his walkway and out to her trusty blue Civic, practically lying on the curb in front of her house, its tires completely flat. “Those tires are ruined all right.”
As if relieved that he finally believed her, her light-blue eyes filled with tears. “I was about to go out when I found it like this!”
Though his knee-jerk reaction was to ask where she’d been headed, he focused on the car. “Did you drive through a new neighborhood or something?” he asked, even though he knew a few stray nails wouldn’t cause this much damage.
“No, I drove straight home from school.”
After checking the tires for nails or other debris, he finally saw a jagged cut near the rim of one. “These have been slashed.”
“Dad’s going to be so mad.”
With his thumb, Cary wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “No, he won’t.”
She hiccuped. “You think?”
“I know. He’s my brother, remember? Have you called him yet?”
“Not yet.”
Pointing to the cement curb bordering her lawn, he said, “Let’s have a seat. Missy, I think we ought to call the police. Slashing tires is serious stuff, so we should report this. It could just be someone’s idea of a prank, but we should be careful in any case.”
Because she still looked worried she’d get in trouble, he added, “Your dad’s going to want to contact the insurance agency, and they’ll likely want the police to look at the damage, anyway.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “It’s okay. Your dad will know this wasn’t your fault.”
Her cell phone rang. “Brian! Oh my goodness!” she said as soon as she clicked on in that dramatic way of hers that Cary knew so well. Cary stretched his legs as Melissa quickly summarized to her boyfriend what was happening.
A much calmer Melissa turned to him after she clicked off. “Brian said you should call the police.”
“I guess we’d better then,” he said, his sarcasm completely wasted on his niece. Funny how teenagers never changed. Cary vividly remembered always putting his friends’ advice in the forefront years ago, too.
After dialing Information, he called the police station. Recognizing the voice, he said, “Hey, Amanda, this is Cary Hudson. Any chance you could send Gary or Sam out this way? Melissa has a slight problem here.” After telling her about the tires, he turned to his niece. “Someone will be here shortly.”
Next he called his brother and filled him in. Luckily Dean was already on his way home.
Within minutes, a stream of cars approached.
Out of the first vehicle flew Brian, who rushed toward Melissa. Next came half the basketball team, three girls from Missy’s cheer squad and assorted other seniors who were looking for a party.
Cary waved hello to everyone but stayed seated. He’d known most of the kids for years and had taught nearly every one of them. They were good kids and were doing their best to give Melissa emotional support. Already his petite niece was standing a little straighter now that her hand was firmly encased in Brian’s.
Finally a police cruiser appeared.
Cary stood motionless when he saw who’d come to help them out. Officer Gen Slate.
* * *
THE SCENE THAT greeted Gen was oddly familiar. Here in Lane’s End—just as it had been in Beckley—everyone’s business was cause for discussion. A whole crowd of kids gathered in front of a row of fifties-style ranch houses. Cary, a diminutive blonde and a really tall kid in sweats were in the middle of it all. Everyone looked to be talking at once.
Just as she was about to approach them, yet another car pulled up. An attractive man in a button-down shirt, jeans and the same dark-brown eyes as Cary’s got out of his sedan. After hugging the girl, as well, he slapped the tall kid on the shoulder. Then, they all turned to Gen.
“Glad you’re here, Officer,” the man—likely Cary’s brother considering the resemblance—said after examining the Civic. “Someone really did a number on my daughter’s tires.”
“It definitely looks that way,” Gen said as she quickly jo
tted down a record of her first impressions. “Any idea why someone would deliberately do this?”
The girl glanced at her friends before turning to Gen. “No.”
Just as Gen was wondering how to send the kids home without alienating the lot of them, Cary stepped forward.
“Guys, if you don’t have information to contribute, you all better get on home.”
“I’m not leaving,” the tall kid—Brian—said.
“I can stay, too,” a freckle-faced boy added, casting an almost wistful look toward Melissa.
Gen watched Cary’s niece meet the boy’s gaze before turning her head away, pink staining her cheeks.
“Go on home, Jimmy,” Brian said. “Melissa’s fine with me.”
Jimmy shook his head. “Listen—”
Just as Gen was going to step in, Cary took control. “Brian, go ahead and stay. Melissa needs you. Everyone else, why don’t you let Melissa call you later?”
Miraculously most of the kids listened and, with a few parting words to Melissa, went on their way.
Gen tapped her pen again. “Let’s start from the top. I’ll take your statements and some pictures. If I need anything else, I’ll stop by tomorrow. It’s getting late and I’m sure everyone’s ready to go inside.”
As Gen had hoped, her calm, direct manner soothed the girl’s nerves. Melissa stepped away from Brian and answered Gen’s questions, only pausing once or twice for her dad to add information.
There wasn’t much to go on. Genevieve suspected Melissa’s Civic was just a victim of a random prank, but she would look into it.
Within the hour, Brian went home, Melissa and her dad headed inside and Gen and Cary were left alone.
“Thanks for coming out,” he said as she started toward her car. “Melissa was pretty upset.”
“Don’t thank me—it’s my job,” she quipped before she realized just how unfeeling she sounded.
His mouth tightened into a fine line. “Oh. Well. I guess it is.”
“Well, um, like I said, I’ll file this report and call back if I find out anything.” She opened her car door, feeling stupid for being so uptight.
“Call Dean. He’s her father.”
“I...I was planning on it.”
She was about to add more, anything to recreate the warmth in his gaze from the coffee shop. A howl directed her attention to Cary’s fence, where a tricolor beagle, almost the exact replica of Sadie, watched them both.
She stepped forward. “Is that Sludge?”
After a second, Cary grinned. “Yep.”
Sludge howled again.
Gen was charmed. Beagles, she could relate to. Approaching the fence, she held out her hand. “Hi, Sludge.” When Sludge tilted his head to one side and watched her, Gen knelt down, the edges of her long scarf grazing the grass below her.
Sludge eyed the wool with interest.
“I wouldn’t—” Cary called out.
But it was too late.
In a lightning-fast move, Sludge chomped down on the wool and pulled hard.
Gen landed on the grass just as a good three-inch square was ingested by Sludge. “Sludge! Cary, my scarf—”
“Is ruined,” Cary muttered in disapproval as Sludge chewed his prize without a bit of shame. “Sorry, he’s a menace.”
“He certainly is.” Bending down to pet the dog, Gen scratched his ears. “Be careful, Sludge, or you’re going to get my reputation for eating anything and everything that’s unhealthy for you.”
Cary’s lips twitched before pointing to the frayed, wet wool she now held in her hand. “Sorry about your scarf.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, wiping the grass from her thighs as she strode to her car. “Sadie’s done crazy things, too.”
“Thanks again for coming out.”
“No problem. Remember, it’s why I’m here.” Gen tried to lighten her words with a smile, but neither came out the way she’d intended. Though she’d spoken the truth, she’d also been genuinely glad to try to help. “Please tell your brother I’ll call him soon.”
After a few parting words, Cary went inside and Gen got in her car.
As she backed out, she shook her head in dismay. Someone had slapped a Lion Pride sticker smack-dab in the middle of her rear windshield while she’d been taking Melissa’s statement. Looked as though basketball fever was going to catch her whether she wanted to be caught or not.
Chapter Four
“IT’S CONTRACT DAY, Cary,” Christy Pardue said from Cary’s doorway. “As your department head, I’ve been informed to tell you to either sign the thing and turn it in or write a letter of resignation and let us hire someone else.”
“Glad to feel so needed.”
“Any time. It’s why I get paid the big bucks.”
Cary laughed. “So...I’ve got to make a decision, huh?”
“Yep. The school board is crunching numbers. Since Michael just announced he’s leaving to take that job at Lakota, Evan’s going crazy. He wants to know how many of us are coming back, pronto.”
Looking at the contract that had been sitting in a folder on his desk for a month, he sighed. “Tell Evan he’ll have my answer by two.”
Christy’s playful expression sobered. “You aren’t really thinking of leaving, are you? You were going to help me teach that continuing-ed class this summer and give me a hand ordering new textbooks. You can’t leave me with just Dave and Linda.”
“Dave’s easy and Linda is...okay.”
“Linda’s twenty-two years old—I could be her mother. Please sign your contract.” Her eyes narrowed. “You are going to sign it, right?”
“I’ll let you know by two.”
Christy turned on her heel, leaving Cary to stare at his contract again.
Why was committing another three years such a big deal? He loved teaching at Lane’s End. Surely he hadn’t gotten so hurt by Kate that he was willing to change his whole life just to avoid her?
No, it was more than that.
Signing meant accepting how his life was. As long as he held off committing to the job, Cary could play with the idea of moving somewhere different, of doing something different.
Growing and changing. Taking a risk. As Gen had said at the café, change was a good thing.
That stopped him in his tracks.
Now there was a person who obviously didn’t mind starting over. She was as independent a woman as he’d ever come across, giving off “I’m self-sufficient” vibes like nobody’s business. He admired her for that.
At the moment, he was stuck in Drive and his road was straight farm country. Nothing of interest for miles and miles. He’d taken it a hundred times.
But yet...
Closing his eyes, Cary thought of Dean and Melissa. The guys he went running with. Dave. Christy.
Lane’s End. This was where he belonged. Cary knew it the way he knew Sludge would eat his Nikes if given the chance.
Deciding not to put the inevitable off a moment longer, Cary signed the contract and placed it in the folder to take down to the principal.
* * *
ON SATURDAY MORNING, Gen knew something had to be done. She’d tossed and turned all night, plagued by dreams of basketballs and lions and kids screaming like banshees.
Her first thought when she awoke had been about work. Again. Obviously she needed some balance in her life, stat. But how?
Padding to the bathroom, she flipped on the light and grabbed her brush. As Gen fixed her hair, she examined herself in the mirror. She looked the same as ever. Boyish figure. Lean and muscular, thanks to the frequent workouts at the gym. Her long, dark hair had always served her well. It was easy to pull back and was her best feature, in her opinion. Of course, not even really good hair could kee
p a man’s attention.
Thinking once again of her former partner, she wondered what had gone wrong. Why weren’t she and Keaton together, as she’d hoped? Was it because she wasn’t girlie enough? Chatty enough? Interesting? They’d gotten along well and had been good friends, but obviously he’d wanted something—someone—else.
Remembering their frequent meals together, all she could remember Keaton commenting on was her love of junk food. That wasn’t good. Maybe she’d been too aloof and afraid of showing him who she really was. She was already repeating that behavior with Cary, after all.
She remembered their meeting the other day. She hadn’t felt so tongue-tied around a man since Keaton. Could she actually pursue another man after that fiasco? Did she even know how? Gen had to admit she’d never been good in the romance department.
Quickly she braided her hair, then padded into the kitchen, getting a bowl of Froot Loops as she poured another cup of coffee.
The only truly feminine person she knew was her sister. Margaret had also never been one to shy away from giving advice—and she’d had no trouble winning over her husband.
Before Gen chickened out, she picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hey, Genevieve! This is a surprise.”
Gen was caught off guard by the exuberant greeting. “Hey, Meg. How are you?”
“I’m good. Oh—hold on a minute,” she said as Gen heard cereal rattle on a tray. “So did I surprise you, me knowing it was you right away? Shane got me caller ID.”
Gen grinned. Some things made their way more slowly than others to Beckley, West Virginia. “I’m glad you finally have it. How are Will, Jackson and Emily?”
“Happy. Crying. Driving me crazy. The usual.” Her tone turned thoughtful. “So why are you calling? Have you been injured again? Are you in the hospital?”
It was humbling to realize the only time she reached out to her family was on holidays or during medical emergencies. The last time Gen had called her sister out of the blue was after she’d sustained a knife wound during a gang altercation.
“I’m fine, Meg,” she hastily replied. “Actually, I called because I need some advice.”
Starting Over at Lane's End (Harlequin Heartwarming) Page 3
