“With her.” Sonya pointed at Dorrie.
“I want to be by myself.” Dorrie made a face at Sonya.
Sonya’s lower lip popped out as if on cue. “But I don’t like to do things alone.”
Which is exactly why they were separating the girls that fall at school. One craved independence. The other one feared it. Time for a change. “You rode the pony by yourself,” Piper counseled. “I think you’ll be fine in the plane, Sonya.”
Sonya clung closer to Piper’s leg, if such a thing was possible. “It’s not really a racehorse,” she whispered. Her eyes implored Piper to understand the difference. “It’s a horse on a spinning floor. But this―” she darted a quick glance to the small planes, fastened to a central turning gear by a long bar “―these really fly.”
“I like flying.” Zach tossed the information out like it was any old day.
Sonya didn’t bite. “You’re so big, Trooper Zach. And you’re old. Of course you like it.”
“Ouch.” He pretended a shot to the heart, but then another voice weighed in from two planes down.
“She could ride with me.” A girl about the twins’ age patted the seat beside her. “If you want to.”
Sonya looked at Dorrie.
Dorrie sat taut, face front, refusing eye contact, determined to stand her ground. Piper had been pushing for this very thing, more independence for both girls, but the current reality left Sonya high and dry.
Sonya turned, reluctant. “You’re sure it’s okay?”
“Yes.” The other little girl sent them a small smile, a look that hinted at wisdom beyond her years. “I’ve been wanting to meet a friend. My name’s Cat.”
“That’s a funny name.”
“Sonya.” Piper started to scold Sonya’s honesty, but the other little girl smiled.
“It is, kind of, but my mother loved nature. So she named me Cactus. But everybody calls me Cat.”
“Do you want to steer the plane?” Sonya wondered as she climbed aboard. “It’s okay with me if you do.”
“We both can,” Cat replied. “And maybe we can go faster than your sister.”
“I’d like that!”
Piper backed away quietly. Was this what school would be like for the girls? A series of quick successes? Or would it be day after day of trauma? She was praying for the former.
“Cat, we’ve got to go, honey.” A dark-haired woman called Sonya’s copilot after their third ride. “Your brother needs his nap.”
“Okay.” No fuss. No argument, wheedling or cajoling. Piper decided she needed to schedule a chat with the other woman, because Cat’s behavior bordered on unbelievable. Every now and then, blind obedience would be a lovely change from constant battles.
Cat hopped out of the plane, but before she reached the access gate, she turned and met Sonya’s gaze. “You did great,” she told her in a voice that sounded too old for her years. “I’d ride with you anytime.”
“Thanks. Me, too.” A light of confidence sparked Sonya’s face. She raised her chin. “And I can fly this plane all by myself, Aunt Piper.”
“Glad to hear it.” Piper reached an arm around Cat’s thin shoulders and hugged her. “Thank you for riding with her.”
“It was fun.”
“I’m glad.”
As the girl rounded the ticket booth, Zach noted the questioning look in Piper’s eyes. “You know who she is, don’t you?”
Piper shook her head. “No.”
“She and her little brother came wandering out of the forest preserve last month. A couple of campers found them after that bad storm.”
Piper’s expression changed. “I remember. How could anyone forget that story?”
He nodded, grim. “They’re in foster care, and the guys on the force make sure they’ve got everything they need. But the little guy...” Zach pulled a deep breath as he watched the trio move through the crowd of young families. “He’s not doing too well. They don’t...” He paused, worked his jaw, then shrugged one shoulder. “They don’t expect him to make it.”
Piper heard the note in his voice and read the look in his eye. “Oh, Zach.”
* * *
Zach didn’t forget his vow to maintain distance between him and Piper McKinney. He’d reminded himself multiple times a day in the past two weeks. But right now, she needed a hug.
His parents had lost a child at age three. His brother Cameron had died from leukemia before Zach was born. He’d never known his brother, and hadn’t seen his parents’ grief, but every holiday and holy day, his mother would stop by the hillside cemetery just north of I-86 and decorate Cam’s grave. Ethan wouldn’t go with her and Julia always made herself scarce, pretending she didn’t know her mother’s mission.
But Zach rode along because he saw the sadness in his mother’s eyes and longed to chase it away.
Right now Piper needed a hug and Zach had one to give. When it came time to let go and step back, releasing her was the last thing he wanted to do.
Then Piper withdrew her phone from the narrow bag she had slung around her neck, read the time and grimaced.
The frown reenergized Zach’s vow to keep his distance. Because he knew exactly what she was going to say before she said it. He knew because he was Marty Harrison’s son, and his father always imposed time limits on having fun. He recognized the resignation on Piper’s face, and remembered why he kept creating distance between them.
Because he’d been raised by a farmer who could never let the day unfold without worry, and he’d vowed to never live that life again.
* * *
“Why are you guys back so soon?” Marty had been approaching the milking shed, but he veered their way instead. “Are the girls okay? Did someone get sick?”
Zach stayed quiet, because he was wondering the same thing. Why had they ended a delightful afternoon when the late-day milking was covered?
Marty faced Piper. “Did you think we couldn’t handle this?”
She waved him off and moved toward the house. “I knew you could handle it just fine, but there’s rain predicted for tomorrow and if I don’t side-dress that corn, I may have wasted the only opportunity this hot summer will give me.”
Marty took a cell phone from his pocket and waggled it. “Berto could have handled the corn. Or me.”
The aggrieved look she shot him as she entered the house made him repocket the phone and bend lower, refocusing his attention on the twins. “Did you have fun, girls?”
“So much!” Sonya skip-danced in excitement, her side ponytail dangling lower than it had hours before. “Trooper Zach bought us cotton candy and chicken nuggets and ice cream and we rode on so many things and we met a new girl and saw the water and there were sailboats everywhere.”
Marty’s smile said he enjoyed the play-by-play. “Perfect day for sailing. Not much wind, but enough of a light breeze. And that’s one thing I really like about being here.”
Zach turned, surprised. His father hadn’t found much to his liking since the surgery that removed pressure on his brain from accumulated fluids and returned him to good health.
“That view.” Marty gazed down the hill and over the road, where the northwest end of the lake stretched before them. The village trees blocked most of the buildings, but a stretch of Water Street banked left through a small clearing. Old-style homes dotted the road. A church spire rose from just beyond the homes. A rectangular opening framed the old brass bell, and a metal cross sparkled rays of light in the afternoon sun. Distant trees framed the church, the homes, the winding street that gave way to boat slips and docks leading into the water.
“They have a ‘ring of fire’ on the Fourth of July,” Zach told him.
Marty frowned, not understanding.
“Everybody makes a campfire along the shore,” Dorri
e explained. “And when you go down there to make your fire, it gets dark and everybody can see all the fires, all around the lake. It is so beautiful, Mr. Marty.”
“Sounds like it would be.”
“And I think our fire was the best of all,” Sonya told him. “Berto made sure we used the best dry wood, and he knows how to make the fire look really big. Piper said it was the best campfire ever.”
“And we toasted marshmallows,” Dorrie added.
“And hot dogs.” Sonya wasn’t about to be outdone.
“And Sonya puked.”
“I did not!” Sonya wasn’t about to let that go unchallenged. “I almost puked and that’s a big difference.”
“Aunt Piper told Grandma you threw up on the way home.” Dorrie rolled her eyes as if throwing up was childish. “Aunt Piper wouldn’t lie about that.”
“On the way home doesn’t count,” Sonya countered smoothly. “It only counts if it happens at the lake. And it didn’t. So there.”
“Sonya! Doralia! We must feed your goat, no?”
“We can tell Beansy about the carnival!” Dorrie spun and high-fived her twin.
Sonya raced ahead, her angst forgotten. “He’ll love hearing about the plane rides!”
“And they’re off.” Zach couldn’t help but laugh at their quick turnabout. His father’s look said he was familiar with that part of childhood.
Piper came out of the house behind Lucia. She’d cut off the arms of the T-shirt she’d donned, and her upper arms looked good. They were strong enough to fix tractors but soft enough to comfort a small child’s fears in the night.
She was a package, all right, but Zach knew his limits. He turned back to his father. “Do the pups need feeding?”
Marty nodded. “If you don’t mind. I made up enough formula to last through tomorrow morning. Mom always said fresh was better for tiny tummies.”
Zach smiled. It sounded like something his mother would say. “I’ll take care of the pups while you do the milking. And Dad?”
Marty turned, puzzled.
“Thanks for today.” Zach directed a look toward Piper, then beyond, where the girls’ chatter could be heard. “We had a great time.”
The hinted smile he thought he’d seen that morning made an encore appearance, tiny and unpracticed, but there. Marty’s gaze flicked back to the lake, then to his son. “My pleasure.”
Zach headed out, avoiding Piper on purpose.
They’d had fun. A beautiful afternoon he hoped the twins would remember for a long time to come. And that’s how they’d leave it, because he read the work-first timeline in Piper’s face, in her actions. Nothing got in the way of the success of the farm.
So be it. Her life, her choice.
But he’d chosen differently, and he refused to tackle that life again. Not now. Not ever. He’d been silly to think he’d misread the signs that she might be able to put aside work for family time.
Now he knew better. In two days he’d be reporting back to work, and they’d go back to being neighbors with a property line in common.
And that was all they’d be.
Chapter Seven
You cut their day short for nothing. You get that, right?
Piper mentally chastised herself as she checked the activity at the dairy store on Sunday afternoon, a dry, hot, no-rain-in-sight kind of day. That meant her hurry to fertilize the corn fields the previous night was a waste of time.
The languid, lazy day tempted families to stop in for a midafternoon treat. Some walked up from the town. Some drove. Some came by after church, gathering fresh milk, eggs and bread for their day of rest.
Piper scowled at the western sky.
Blue. Bright. Sunny. The bank of clouds forming over Lake Erie pushed north, away from Kirkwood Lake.
And despite her mini panic attack about missing a God-given opportunity to side-dress the corn, the twins sang her praises. They thanked her repeatedly, retelling stories of grand horses, flying machines and melt-in-your-mouth cotton candy. Pink for Sonya. Yellow for Dorrie.
She’d noted Zach’s expression yesterday. Saw the disappointment. He wanted to stay, prolong the girls’ fun.
She’d opted to work.
She strode across the browning grass, disenchanted with herself, with life and maybe with farming. For a few short hours she’d let herself relax on the enjoyable afternoon. Chill out. Have fun.
Colin’s words came back to her, the Realtor’s offer dangling like a gold ring at the county fair.
She could choose “easy.” Seven figures, even split five ways, was a sizable opportunity. Was God tempting her? Maybe opening doors she’d closed out of stubbornness?
“Piper?”
Zach’s voice hailed her.
He’d walked away yesterday, shoulders back, chin up, and she read that posture like the open pages of large-print book....
She’d been given the cold shoulder.
So be it. She was pretty sure a lecture would be forthcoming, but a crew of small voices surprised her.
“Mom, can we get ice cream? Please?”
“I would wike some, Uncle Zach. A wot.”
One little boy tugged Zach’s hand in the direction of the ice cream windows. Another little fellow snuggled into his mother’s side, curled against her chest, his dark mop of curls a longer version of Zach’s hair. He eyed “Uncle Zach” from his cozy perch, begging in a softer voice.
Absolutely endearing. Both of them. And the woman at Zach’s side looked like a feminine version of Marty.
“Piper, this is my sister, Julia. And her boys, Martin and Connor.”
“Hey.” Piper reached out a hand to Julia. “Welcome to Kirkwood Lake. Are you here to visit?”
“We are.” Julia smiled up at Zach, but something in her face told Piper there was more to the story. “We’re going to stay at Zach’s place for a couple of weeks, and he wanted to introduce us.”
They came to visit when Zach’s vacation was drawing to an end?
Piper stowed that odd bit of information for examination later. “Well, it’s a pleasure. And your boys are beautiful.”
“They’re monsters, but we like ’em.” Julia grinned at the smaller boy, and he flashed her a wide smile, full of love and trust. But he didn’t loosen his grip as his eyes took in the big barns, lowing cattle, calf pens and laughter of children near the ice cream windows.
“I thought the girls might get a kick out of playing with the boys while they’re here.” Zach palmed the bigger boy’s head. “Martin’s their age and they can all take turns torturing Connor.”
“Yes!” Martin fist-pumped the air, delighted by the prospect.
Connor frowned down at his brother and burrowed closer into Julia’s shoulder.
“Kidding, little guy.” Zach put a reassuring hand on the toddler’s back. Connor peeked up, smiled and held out his arms.
Zach gathered him in, then swung the tiny fellow up to his shoulders. Connor shrieked, and for a moment looked as though he’d go into full-fledged meltdown.
But then the little guy’s face brightened. Eyes wide, he crowed when Zach moved, but the little “eek!” turned into a joyous laugh.
He was safe and secure. On top of the world. A little precarious, but trusting his uncle to keep him safe.
Seeing Zach with Julia, playing with her sons, made Piper long for that picture of family love. Why couldn’t her family be like that? Strong in faith and love?
“We’re grilling tonight.” Julia turned toward Piper and indicated Zach’s place with a glance. “Why don’t you guys come over? Zach said they’ve bummed a bunch of meals off you in the past couple of weeks. And unlike my little brother here―” she aimed a look of loving appreciation Zach’s way “―I’m a great cook.”
“Although I’ll be the one grilling,” Zach added.
Piper raised her gaze to Zach’s. He smiled, but it wasn’t the warm, engaging grin she’d come to know. It was pleasant, a pale image of his normal self. “Umm...”
“Dad’s coming over for the afternoon milking.” Zach offered the information in a calm voice. Cool. Deliberate. As if talking to any old neighbor. Funny how that pinched her ego.
“With Julia here he doesn’t have to do that. Berto and I can manage.”
“He wants to,” Julia told her. “And that’s okay. The boys and I will be there when the chores are done. Dad always loved chore time. Remember, Zach?” A hint of melancholy shadowed her soft smile. “He’d whistle his way through Handel’s ‘Hallelujah’ Chorus while milking. Or Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy.’ He always said it was the best time to pray, while he was outside, working with the animals.”
“It is.” Piper decided her barn work could be put on hold for a few minutes. She turned toward the ice cream windows. “Is it okay if we treat the boys?”
“No.” Zach’s answer surprised her, but it shouldn’t have. His reaction yesterday said he wanted to keep his distance. A good thing for both, she decided, but she realized distance wasn’t what she wanted when she looked into those bright blue eyes.
“We’ll pay for our ice cream and ensure your bottom line.” He shot her a smile, more genuine this time, and moved ahead.
She wished he wasn’t so nice.
She wished he liked farming.
She wished he wasn’t a cop.
Suddenly the developer’s offer came to mind.
Money. Free and clear. No debt. A fresh beginning, a new tomorrow.
“Did you see my grandpa’s puppies?” Martin pointed to Zach’s house across the back field. “They’re so cute!”
“They are. I got to help feed them the other night.”
“Really?” Martin’s eyebrows shot up. “Grandpa says I can’t feed them until they’re bigger but I’m only going to be here for a couple of weeks. Or maybe until my daddy moves back to our house.”
Falling for the Lawman Page 8
