With Valor and Devotion

by Charlotte Maclay

  But time had run out. She knew Mike had to go back to work tomorrow.

  Her only consolation was that her own mother had agreed to take Suzie, despite her concerns about her precious rose trellis in the backyard. Her mother had lovingly nurtured the plant all these years in the hope Kristin would be married in the frame of pink blooms. An event that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon, Kristin had reminded her.

  In offering dog-sitting services, her mother had also coerced Kristin’s sworn promise that she’d have Sunday dinner with her parents every week for the next hundred years or so. A fair trade-off which would allow the boy to visit his beloved pet regularly, assuming Alice Gramercy or her husband were willing to drive him across town to make that happen.

  Or maybe Kristin’s mom, a softy at heart, would take Suzie for a visit at the Gramercys’.

  Getting out of her car in front of Paseo Garden Apartments, she sighed in resignation.

  She truly didn’t know which was going to be harder—breaking the news to Randy that he’d be moving back to the home he’d run away from, or seeing Mike again after their passionate kiss. She suspected the latter would be the more delicate issue to deal with. Particularly since a wicked part of her psyche would like to repeat the experience.

  That’s not going to happen, she told herself staunchly as she walked through the entrance to the complex and up to Mike’s door. There were several couples lounging around the pool taking in the lingering rays of sunlight on a warm summer evening. She valiantly tried to suppress her envy that they appeared to have no cares beyond the moment while she carried the burden of a child’s happiness.

  How in the world did she expect to protect the well-being of an overwhelming caseload of foster children when she hadn’t been able to protect her own child’s life?

  Her hand trembled slightly as she knocked, and she took a deep breath.

  Opening the door, Mike gave her one of his roguish grins and stood back to let her in. “I figured you’d be coming by tonight.”

  She glanced around the apartment. Not catching sight of the boy, she spoke softly. “I thought it would be easier to move Randy back to the Gramercys’ now rather than wait till morning. They’re expecting him, and I have to be in court early tomorrow.”

  “We need to talk about that.” As slick as warm honey on a bun, he closed the door behind her and slipped his arm around her shoulders, ushering her into the living room.

  A shiver of wanting skated across her awareness, which she valiantly tried to suppress. “Where’s Randy?”

  “Getting ready for bed.”

  “So early?”

  “We had a busy day.”

  He sat her down on the couch, but he remained standing, towering over her, all lean hips, broad chest and a determined glint in his dark eyes.

  “Busy doing what?” she asked cautiously.

  He ignored her question. “If he’s going back to the Gramercys’, what about Suzie?”

  “I’ve made arrangements for the dog. Randy will be able to visit her almost anytime he wants to.” At a slight inconvenience to Kristin’s long-suffering mother. “It’s the best I could—”

  “I’ve got a better idea and I’ve got the details all worked out.” Drawing a deep breath, he squared his shoulders like a soldier at attention. “They’re both going to stay here with me.”

  She blinked, though she wasn’t totally surprised by Mike’s announcement. He and the boy had bonded beautifully. Too bad he wasn’t a man who believed in commitment. “We’ve been through this before, Mike. I know your intentions are good, but this is not a suitable placement for Randy. Or Suzie, for that matter.”

  “I know I’m not authorized by the bureaucratic gods in Paseo County. But I’m ready to fill out whatever forms you need me to. You can do any kind of background check you want on me and you won’t come up with anything worse than a speeding ticket.”

  “It’s not just that. You’re not supposed to have children here at the apartment complex. The pool’s not fenced off. It’s not safe for a child.”

  “Someone will always be with him.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Like they were when he went up to the top of the tower yesterday before anyone knew he was gone? Don’t you know how quickly a child can move?” Or die, she thought as a painful reminder of Bobby’s death shot through her. In the support group she’d attended they’d made it abundantly clear his death hadn’t been her fault. Even so, the guilt lay like a rock in her stomach, a twin to the sorrow that filled her heart. Why couldn’t she get past it? Or did every woman who lost a child carry the same burden?

  “I’ll be careful,” Mike assured her. “And it’s still only until you find the right placement for him. Till there’s somebody who really wants him.”

  She stood so she wouldn’t be at such a power disadvantage and wouldn’t have to crane her neck to look up at him. “What about when you’re at work? Or are you going to take a leave of absence?”

  “I’ve got him signed up at the YMCA day-care center from six-thirty in the morning till six at night on the days I work. He’ll be fine there. Lots of kids to play with.”

  “What about the nights when you’re gone? He’s a little young to stay alone.”

  “Yeah, I know. He suggested that idea himself but I told him it wouldn’t work. So Tammilee has agreed to baby-sit him the nights I’m on duty. She’ll sleep here and we’re going to juggle our respective schedules so one of us will always be around.”

  Reflexively, her hands closed into fists. “I don’t even know the woman. You can’t expect me to approve a plan involving a woman I’ve only seen once.” And had irrationally grown to dislike.

  “She’ll be fine. She’s a great gal, loves kids, she says. In fact, she’s excited about getting acquainted with Randy.”

  “I’ll just bet she is,” Kristin muttered between clenched teeth. “No, I can’t agree to that, Mike. Leaving Randy here for these few days was stretching the rules. To let him stay longer would be totally irresponsible of me under the circumstances.” She was already on shaky ground with her boss.

  If she’d been taller, they would have been standing nose-to-nose. As it was they were practically toe-to-toe, and he was glaring down at her. His eyes were dilated with anger and determination. Even so, she could still see tiny amber striations in the ring of dark-chocolate brown around the irises. And when she inhaled, she caught the fragrance of the spicy soap he used.

  “He is not going back to the Gramercy house,” he said, pronouncing every syllable with great care. “Some kid named Shane beats up on him.”

  “I didn’t know that. I’ll talk to—”

  “That won’t help. I’ve been there, remember? The kids in foster care trample all over each other. Randy deserves better.”

  “It’s the best placement I can find.”

  “I’m the best placement. If you’d forget your damn rules, you’d admit that.”

  He was right in many ways, except she couldn’t help picturing Randy at the bottom of the pool or falling off the balcony upstairs. And her losing her job after the incident became headline news. She wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of grief.

  “Give me a chance, princess. A chance to make it right for him. For a little while. I won’t even take the county’s money. I’ll be his foster dad for free.”

  She looked at him in surprise. For a man who didn’t believe in commitment, he’d fallen in love with one small boy. Kristin suspected he didn’t realize what he was saying and probably didn’t recognize his own feelings.

  “Oh, Mike…”

  Footsteps on the stairs like a thundering herd of elephants announced Randy’s arrival, Suzie at his heels.

  “Ms. McCoy! Ms. McCoy! Come see what Mike got me!” Spontaneously, Randy grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the stairs.

  Captivated by his excitement and the boy’s unexpected show of affection, she went with him up the stairs. His hand felt so small. So trusting. Whatever surprise he
was going to share with her, she’d break his heart when she had to tell him to pack up his things and move back to the Gramercys’. She’d probably put a dent in her own heart, too.

  Darn it all! If she had any brains, she’d quit her job as a social worker and switch to selling washing machines. Then maybe she could leave her emotions at home when she went to work.

  He tugged her into his room. “See! I gots my own bed ’n’ Mike let me pick out my own quilt ’n’ everything.” He leaped up on the bed and sat smack in the middle like a miniature Buddha wearing Mike’s oversized T-shirt. “Pretty neat, huh?”

  “Terrific.” Emotion clogged Kristin’s throat. Mike had bought the boy a twin bed, the red, white and blue quilt printed with fire engines, airplanes and toy boats. There was even a smaller blanket at the foot of the bed for Suzie. The couch was gone from the room and so was the computer, the desk now covered with Lego sets, Hot Wheels and picture books.

  She pursed her lips and fought the urge to cry. He shouldn’t have done all this. He knew he couldn’t keep the boy, couldn’t care for him properly. He was simply setting the child up for disappointment. Heartbreak.

  But maybe, just maybe, Mike could buy both the boy and the system some time to find the right placement that would give Randy the stability he needed. Maybe the unusual arrangement was worth her boss’s ire—for the child’s sake.

  Turning, she looked up at Mike, and her own heart ached with the love she saw there for the boy. Something inside her shifted. An emotion she’d never expected to feel again vibrated against the barriers she’d erected to protect herself. Like an earthen dam under too much pressure, cracks began to form.

  “Give him a chance, princess,” he pleaded. “I know you stuck your neck out for him, letting him stay here at all. What will a few more days hurt?”

  No man had a right to be so persuasive. So charming. Or maybe she’d grown weak, just like the barriers around her heart that were threatening to crumble.

  He saw her hesitation and took advantage. “Pick out a book to read, big guy. Kristin and I have some stuff to talk about, then I’ll be right back to read to you and tuck you in. Okay?”

  “’Kay.” His eager acceptance of Mike’s request brightened his voice. “Want me to read to Suzie first?”

  “Sure. That’d be fine.”

  “’Night, Ms. McCoy,” the boy called as she followed Mike out of the room. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

  She halted. By all rights, she should be driving him to the Gramercy house this very minute. But that wasn’t going to happen. Mike knew it. She knew it, too, and there seemed little reason to fight the inevitable. “Good night, honey. Sweet dreams.” Selling candy might be a better choice than washing machines, she mused as she walked down the stairs. She could slip little boys like Randy a secret treat and spoil them rotten.

  “Thanks,” Mike said when they reached the living room.

  “I think I’ve probably lost my mind. I’m sure I’m going to lose my job if I keep this up.”

  Not in the least remorseful, he grinned at her. “I did find out something useful.”

  “That I’m weak-willed and a patsy for a sob story?”

  “Randy’s birthday—October second.”

  She frowned, confused. “Am I supposed to bake a cake?”

  Laughing, he said, “Fine by me. But the fact is, there have to be birth records for him someplace, though he doesn’t know where he was born. Even so, with his name and date of birth, we can maybe track down his family. Then we can get him back where he belongs.”

  “If his family wants him.”

  He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, drawing her attention to the frayed placket on the zipper front. “Yeah. I guess that’s a pretty big ‘if,’ isn’t it?”

  She knew he was thinking about himself as much as Randy. He’d been a lonely child, shuttled from foster home to foster home, learning to be wary of the system. Of social workers.

  Little wonder he’d bonded with Randy so well.

  And instinctively distrusted her.

  “I’ll have someone check it out,” she promised. What she couldn’t guarantee was saving Randy from the same demoralizing experiences Mike had endured—with or without finding his biological family.

  Chapter Eight

  It had been a quiet day for Station Six. The paramedics had gone out on only two runs, including the one for eighty-year-old Abigail Trumblebird, who had chest pains or a wastebasket fire almost every week because she was lonely. The engine companies hadn’t left the station except to shop for groceries, picking up the supplies for Logan Strong’s secret recipe for clam linguini.

  Now, after dinner, Mike felt restless. There wasn’t much on TV worth watching, and he wasn’t in the mood to study fire-suppression manuals. He’d already called Tammilee to make sure she’d picked up Randy, which she had. Things were going fine, she reported.

  Even so, Mike missed being with Randy. More troubling, he missed seeing Kristin. When she’d left his apartment last night, he’d tried to maneuver himself into position for a good-night kiss. As elusive as a beautiful butterfly, she’d evaded his best moves.

  Damn but she was quick. And wary of him. The man who’d fathered Bobby had certainly done a number on her. She trusted men about as much as he’d trust a convicted arsonist with a pack of matches.

  Not that Mike was the man to teach her anything different—though he’d never lied to a woman to get her into his bed. He made sure women knew the score up front. And he hated that Kristin had been hurt so badly.

  As he walked down the hallway toward his room, he noticed Logan’s door was open, and he was working at his computer. Mike rapped on the door.

  “Good linguini tonight,” he said.

  “Thanks.” Logan didn’t look up.

  “You studying for the engineer’s exam?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’d say you were a sure bet for the promotion. You’re the most qualified in the department.”

  Logan hit a few keystrokes then turned around. “I still need to ace the test. You never know how these promotions will go if you’re not top man on the list.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  Tall and slender with sandy-brown hair, Logan never seemed to bulk up no matter how much weight training he did, which was plenty. He was also the most serious guy on C-shift. Ambitious, too.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?” Mike asked. All the firefighters knew each other pretty well, but Logan had always kept his private life close to the vest.

  “As long as it doesn’t have anything to do with handling women. You’re the expert in that department.”

  Mike chuckled. Lately—at least where Kristin was involved—he didn’t feel much like an expert. More like an adolescent with raging hormones.

  “How come you’ve never married?”

  Leaning back in his chair, Logan propped his feet on his bed. “I was married once—briefly.”

  That came as news to Mike. “Divorced?”

  “Almost ten years now. No kids, which is just as well.”

  “How come—I mean, it’s none of my business but—”

  “She hated me being a firefighter. She’d practically make herself sick worrying I’d be killed on the job. I might have saved the marriage if I’d been willing to change. But my old man was on the job here in Paseo, and I’ve got a brother on the job in Merced. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” He lowered his feet to the floor and rolled his head around to ease the tension in his neck. “Chances are it wouldn’t have made any difference. We were both too young.”

  “All this time and you haven’t met anyone else?”

  The corners of Logan’s lips lifted into a half smile. “You studly types have spoiled ’em for us ordinary guys.”

  “Yeah, right.” So far, Mike hadn’t done much spoiling of Kristin. In fact, she seemed immune to his efforts. Which was damned irritating, now that he thought of it.

  From th
e rec room someone shouted, “Gables! Phone!”

  Adrenaline shot through Mike. Maybe something had happened to Randy, but then he realized Tammilee would’ve called 911 if that was the case. Still, he hurried toward the phone, the illogical hope that the caller might be Kristin nudging against his good sense.

  He picked up the instrument that had been left dangling from the wall phone. “Gables.”

  “Y’all have got to come get this kid. He’s—he’s impossible!”

  “Tammilee, what’s wrong?”

  “First of all, he passes gas,” she whispered delicately, her Southern sensibilities apparently offended by that.

  “He’s just a little kid. Sometimes that happens. He can’t help—”

  “He’s doing it on purpose. Constantly. He’s stunk up the whole apartment. I won’t be able to wear the clothes I’ve got on until I take them to the cleaners. They reek! And I’m going to send you the bill, Michael.”

  “That’s fine, Tammilee. Just stick it out until morning, would you? It’s almost his bedtime.”

  “He should already be in bed, and I’ve spent the past half hour chasing him and that damn dog all over this complex and halfway into town because he did not want to go to bed!” She sobbed, sounding half hysterical. “I can’t do this, Michael. He’s a monster.”

  Mike glowered at the phone. “No, he’s not.”

  “He put a lizard in my coffee cup! A live lizard!” Her shrieking voice forced Mike to hold the phone away from his ear. “I’m leaving in thirty minutes whether you’re here or not. Do you hear me, Michael?”

  He winced. “I hear you, darlin’, but I can’t just walk off the job. I’m on duty. If you’ll just do this little favor for me—”

  “Oh, God, he’s doing it again. I’ve got to open the windows. Thirty minutes! I swear, not a moment longer.” With that she hung up the phone, leaving Mike listening to a dial tone.

  He cursed under his breath. What the hell was he going to do now? A firefighter didn’t walk off the job because of some domestic problem. Dammit, he thought he’d had everything arranged. Didn’t Tammilee realize boys would be boys? What’s the big deal about passing gas? For that matter, what’s so awful about a harmless lizard? It wasn’t like the kid had stuck a rattlesnake in her bed.