by Leigh Duncan
“Why not?” Amanda shrugged. “Hailey has her act all planned out.”
He braced himself. Even at her tender age, his daughter had a knack for standing out from the crowd.
“She intends to ride Daisy in the show.”
Mitch had already lifted his hands to signal a stop to such nonsense when Amanda tossed a final ingredient into the mix.
“And rope a steer.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The idea was ridiculous, of course, but he had to ask, “How does she come up with this stuff?”
Laughing along with him, Amanda gestured with open palms. “Who knows? That call I was planning to make? I’m sure live animals aren’t allowed onstage, but I thought I’d better get a copy of the rules before she gets her hopes up. Hailey can be pretty insistent.”
“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”
He studied Amanda. A subtle shift in the atmosphere told him they’d spent enough time talking about people who weren’t in the room. “I was just going to pour myself a glass of wine. Care to join me?”
A warm glow filled her eyes. That was all it took to send him to the kitchen while she made herself comfortable. Fighting a sudden nervous anticipation, Mitch grabbed a crisp chardonnay from the wine rack. He hadn’t been out on a date in years. It’d been even longer since the last time he’d spent quality time alone with a woman in the house. Back in the day, when he was young, single and on the prowl, entertaining had been second nature. Now, he had to think about it as he reached past a stack of Tupperware to a serving tray. He dumped crackers into a bowl, tugged a block of cheddar from the fridge.
He wanted nothing more than to get cozy on the couch with Amanda, but held back, determined to let her take the lead. He considered it a good sign when she curled up within touching—if not kissing—distance on the sofa.
While he poured, she asked, “What’s the latest between you and the district attorney?”
He feigned interest in the topic and told her what he knew. “He still wants to name me as his replacement. The governor has scheduled a press conference toward the end of next week. He’ll announce Randall as his choice for the cabinet post. That should trigger the rest of the dominos, assuming Judge Dobson and Sarah Magarity agree that Hailey’s injury was an accident.”
Amanda’s eyebrows lifted. She chewed on her thumbnail, a sign that something he’d said didn’t quite sit right with her. “And you’ll take the job?”
“Frankly, I’ve been so focused on bringing Hailey back home that I haven’t given it much thought.”
Her hand fell away from her mouth and Amanda shook her head. “There’s a lot riding on next week, then. The hearing with Dobson. Your promotion. The custody issue.” She twisted a loose strand of hair between her fingers.
Mitch studied her solemn face. “Are you sure you want to talk about this?”
Amanda met his gaze. “I think we’ve put off talking about it long enough. Besides, I filed my final report with DCF after your last visit with Hailey. Sarah Magarity even called to go over a few points yesterday, so I’m officially done with my supervisory duties until our next court date.”
At the social worker’s name, Mitch’s gaze tightened. He knew he shouldn’t, but he had to ask. “Did Magarity give any indication about…”
“About how she was leaning? No. But she asked my opinion so I gave it. I said the same thing I’ve said all along—that you’re a positive influence in your daughter’s life.”
“Thanks.” Mitch exhaled slowly. “Between the witnesses I’ve lined up and your reports, I’m hopeful Dobson will finally see that Hailey’s accident was just that—an accident.” Once that was behind him, the judge had to agree Mitch provided the better home for his daughter.
“What will that mean for…” She paused, unable to find the words.
She didn’t need to. He knew where she was headed and felt his lips firm, his shoulders square. This wasn’t the conversation he’d planned on having over wine and cheese on the one night he and Amanda had together, but she was right. They had to address the elephant in the room.
Bluntly, he tossed his cards onto the table. “I have to do what’s best for Hailey.”
Concern flashed in Amanda’s eyes and she grasped his wrist. “Karen might have started out on the wrong foot, but unlike my dad, she’s changed over the past few months. She’s doing her best to be a good mom. Are you sure it’s in Hailey’s interest to take that away from her?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Mitch cleared his throat, knowing what he was about to say would come as a shock. It had to. The realization had practically driven him to his knees when he’d finally understood what his heart had been trying to tell him. He cupped his hand over Amanda’s.
“Hailey needs both of us—Karen and me—in her life. Our daughter’s not some pawn on a chessboard to be captured by the king or the queen. So as much as it’ll kill me a little, I’ll make sure Karen gets reasonable visitation once this is all behind us.”
Amanda’s breath caught in an audible gasp. She gazed at him, wonder filling her eyes. “You’re sure?”
He managed a quick nod and sipped some wine while she processed the information. He wasn’t at all surprised when she asked him for specifics. If their roles were reversed, he’d want to know the same thing.
“Dinner once a week. Visitation every other weekend. An amicable split of the holidays and summers. What do you think?” He slipped his hand under Amanda’s until their fingers entwined.
She took a quick gulp from her glass and rubbed one finger across her lips. “It certainly sounds like a good offer.”
He brushed aside the fleeting sensation that she was holding something back. Though he’d hoped for her immediate support, it made sense that Amanda would need to run any kind of proposal past Karen before she agreed. Not that his ex was likely to turn this one down. It meant their daughter would spend time with both her parents.
“This way, Hailey wins,” he whispered. “And now, enough talk.”
He took the wineglass from Amanda’s hand and gently set it on the coffee table. Leaning in, he brushed his lips across hers to catch a hint of tangy cheese, dry wine. Combined with her own personal scent, the taste was irresistible. When she slid into his arms, he wanted more than just to explore her mouth, her lips. He wanted to make her his own. And for the first time since they’d met all those months ago at the Saddle Up Stampede, he knew they both envisioned a future together.
She was pressed against him, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip. Her hands, though toughened from years of riding, felt like velvet. Her touch sent shudders unlike anything he’d ever experienced racing across his skin.
He trailed one finger down her rib cage.
“I want our first time to be special.” His breath was rough, and he worked to control it. “Not here on the couch like a pair of randy teenagers.” He brushed another kiss across Amanda’s swollen lips. “Upstairs?” he suggested.
The dreamy look faded from her eyes. Her fingers stroked his jaw. “You don’t know how much I want to do exactly that,” she whispered.
There was a “but” in there some place. Mitch tried to ignore it and failed.
“But…?”
“But not tonight,” she breathed. “We’ve already pushed the boundaries too far.”
“When?” he growled. He put his mind to work grappling with the delay his body didn’t want to accept.
“Next Saturday? After the county fair?”
They’d stand on opposite sides of the courtroom one final time two days before the fair.
“Saturday, no matter what.”
“Whatever the outcome,” she answered.
The words were right, but something in her eyes shifted, and once again he had the feeling she knew more than she was telling. He won the battle against pressing her for an explanation. He trusted this woman with his heart. Whatever she was hiding, she would tell him when she was ready. No
matter what her secret was, it wouldn’t destroy what they had together.
* * *
MITCH PULLED A PEN, a notepad and a stack of files from his briefcase. He organized them quickly on the table at the front of the room, then sat, his chair angled so he could read the faces of those who entered the small courtroom. Not that it did him any good. If the social worker, Sarah Magarity, had an opinion on his case, she hid it well behind a tight-lipped reserve. Joey and Chuck slid into the back row, looking uncomfortable. Mitch couldn’t tell which was to blame—the unfamiliar surroundings or their brand-new suits and ties. He tried to catch Amanda’s eye, but she and Karen walked in together and immediately sat at the plaintiff’s table. Maybe it was his imagination, maybe it was nerves, but something about the set of Amanda’s shoulders deepened his anxiety. A single glimpse of Karen’s strained features stirred an uneasy suspicion that a nasty surprise stalked his future.
His mouth went so dry he downed half a glass of water while giving himself a stern warning to remain calm. He couldn’t react emotionally—whether the threats were real or imagined. Not with Hailey’s future at stake. No, the best way to ensure success was to follow his carefully mapped out agenda. First, he’d put an end to the speculation that he’d hurt his child. After that, he’d deal with the custody decision.
Come what may, he meant what he’d said to Amanda earlier in the week. Hailey was more than a set of dishes that should have been divvied up in the divorce decree. He and Karen shouldn’t squabble over her as if she were; she needed the security and love of both her parents. He’d do his part to see that she got it. He glanced at his ex-wife and prayed she’d do the same.
The door behind the judge’s bench eased open as the bailiff issued the standard line, “All rise for the Honorable Jeffrey Dobson.”
Mitch straightened his tie, wrestled his nerves into submission and stood along with the dozen or so others in the courtroom.
“Our first order of business this morning concerns Hailey Goodwin and her parents,” Dobson announced after a quick review of the day’s docket. “Are all the parties and witnesses in attendance?”
At Amanda’s prompt “Yes, Your Honor,” the judge swung toward Mitch.
“And are you ready, Counselor?”
The unexpected warmth in Dobson’s voice helped Mitch find his feet. While the doors behind him opened and closed to admit a late arrival, his assurance that they could proceed rolled off Mitch’s tongue with practiced ease. A ripple of whispers passed through the room, and Dobson gave someone a deferential lift of his chin, but Mitch ignored it all. With his gaze solidly planted on the man who controlled his daughter’s fate—and his own—he called his first witness.
He wiped his sweaty brow while Chuck swore to tell the truth, the whole truth. Despite his own pounding heart, Mitch aimed an encouraging smile at the boy. They’d decided that Chuck should tell the story in his own words, so he just said, “Tell us what happened,” and stepped aside, the crossed fingers of one hand hidden in his pants pocket.
“There was a lady with two little girls in the park. While the kids played, you—” Chuck nodded at Mitch “—you and the woman talked. When you turned to say goodbye to them, your little girl, she climbed up the monkey bars. Fast, like. You went running over, but just as you got there, she fell off the top bar.” He turned an earnest face toward Judge Dobson. “I saw him grab for her. She yelled. Next thing I knew, Mr. Goodwin was shouting did we have a cell phone and yelling for Joey to dial 911.”
Dobson leaned forward. “You did great, Chuck,” he said, approval turning his solemn voice softer than normal. “I have one question and then we’ll let you go. You say Mr. Goodwin ran over to the monkey bars, and Hailey fell just as he got there. You’re sure that’s exactly the way it happened? He didn’t grab her first?”
Pale beneath his freckles, Chuck shook his head. “It happened really fast, but I’m sure. He didn’t pull her from the bars or nothing like that. He had to step quick to catch her before she hit the ground.”
Mitch drew in a much needed breath. Chuck’s account of the events that fateful afternoon should be enough to clear his name. But he wanted more. Wanted to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was innocent. He prepared to call another witness while the young man stepped down from the stand, but Dobson held up one finger. He turned to the redhead seated among the front-row spectators.
“I think I’d like to hear from DCF,” he announced.
Mitch choked back a protest at the sudden change of plans. Just because Dobson had returned from vacation a more relaxed version of his old self, that didn’t mean crossing him was a good idea. Besides, though Joey was up next, his testimony wouldn’t really add much. By his own admission, the boy hadn’t seen Hailey fall. He could only corroborate part of Chuck’s story. Opting for the safest path, Mitch sank into his chair.
“Your Honor,” Sarah Magarity said as soon as she took the stand, “other than this single incident, there are no allegations of neglect or abuse in the Goodwin home. With Mr. Goodwin’s permission, I contacted Hailey’s pediatrician. He spoke quite favorably about the child…and her father. All the reports we’ve gathered—our own, as well as those from Ms. Markette—indicate that, until this accident, Mr. Goodwin provided a good home and adequate supervision for his daughter.”
The wan smile she aimed at Mitch temporarily lightened the ton of worry he carried on his shoulders. But once the DCF worker stepped down from the witness stand, the tension in the room rose to a palpable level. Dobson’s pen made scratching sounds on a pad of paper. The noise echoed through the hushed atmosphere. Minutes stretched into an eternity before he looked up.
“Mr. Goodwin.”
“Yes, Your Honor?”
Mitch wished Amanda were sitting beside him. He wanted her hand in his, needed her support. But until they saw this thing through, she was with Karen and he was on his own. There wasn’t much he could do but stand there and take it like a man, so he stood.
“Mr. Goodwin, it appears that your daughter’s injury was the result of an accident, and that the court owes you an apology. Therefore I’m lifting the requirement for supervised visitation, effective immediately.”
The only thing unexpected about the tidal wave of relief that swept over Mitch was its intensity. Though he’d known he was nervous about the outcome, he hadn’t expected his legs to buckle beneath him. It was a good thing there was a chair behind him, he thought, collapsing onto it with a heartfelt “Thank you, Your Honor.”
In the space of two seconds, before Dobson spoke again, Mitch imagined the over-the-top party he’d throw to welcome his daughter home. Eager to hear how soon that might be, he leaned toward the judge and waited. Instead of making another announcement, the man banged his gavel and ordered a fifteen minute recess. He retreated into his chambers and closed the door.
A shuffle of feet, a rustle of clothing came from the benches. Even knowing he should thank Chuck and Joey for coming, Mitch stayed put. He barely had the strength to swing a glance across the aisle to Amanda’s chair. Her face brightened with a congratulatory smile that quickly dimmed, changing into an expression he didn’t comprehend until a hand descended on his shoulder.
Mitch caught the flash of a gold Rolex disappearing beneath the sleeve of an expensive Italian suit. Suddenly, the judge’s earlier nod to a latecomer made sense. Mitch hauled himself to his feet and shook his boss’s hand.
“You probably feel like the weight of the world has lifted.” District Attorney Randall Hill spoke in hushed tones quite unlike his usual expansive voice.
“I wouldn’t go quite that far. Dobson still has to issue his ruling on permanent custody. But yeah.” Mitch added an aw-shucks grin to hide the depth of his relief. “It feels good.”
The D.A. was a busy man, too busy to waste time on pointless chatter. He stepped closer, his voice dropping so low Mitch barely heard it.
“Stop by my office when you’re done here. We have some details to work out before
the press conference. Now that this mess is cleared up, I’ll want to name you my successor as soon as possible.”
Despite the warm glow Randall’s words ignited in his chest, Mitch hesitated. He’d coveted the position of head prosecutor since the day he’d first hung an Officer of the Court badge around his neck. But things had changed over the past three months. Thanks to Amanda, his priorities had shifted. He no longer had the commitment and drive required of a lead prosecutor. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he ever would again. But knowing that and admitting it to Randall were two different things. In the end, he hedged, going along with a back-slapping excitement he really didn’t feel, and assuring his boss they’d speak later.
Would Amanda understand how much Mitch had changed?
Across the aisle, she sat in whispered conversation with his ex-wife. He couldn’t see their faces, but their body language told him Karen and her lawyer were arguing. The sight let loose another qualm of unease. One that only grew after Randall left and Dobson banged his gavel, summoning the courtroom to order. Mitch folded his hands, pressing his fingers together tightly as the judge spoke.
“I’d like to commend everyone on the way they’ve handled themselves during what I’m sure has been an arduous time.”
Though Mitch wished the man would simply get on with it, hurry wasn’t in Dobson’s post-vacation vocabulary. Not as it had been the last time they’d faced one another. Today, he waxed on about the court’s duty to protect the best interests of the child before, finally, he turned to Mitch.
“Your daughter’s shoulder healed well?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Mitch conceded. “She’s back to doing all the things little girls do to give their daddies heart attacks.”
A titter of laughter sounded behind him. A vacant smile passed over Dobson’s face before he swiveled toward Karen. “Ms. Goodwin, I trust all has gone well with you and your daughter these past few months?”
