A Weaver Vow

by ALLISON LEIGH,

“No,” he returned calmly. “The point is that your uniform is getting looser. You’re losing weight. So take the roll, go out the back door to the picnic table where I know y’all sit for your breaks and eat it. Better yet, eat a whole damn helping of meat loaf and potatoes.” He glanced past her. “Tabby. Tell her to take a break already and eat.”

  “Take a break already and eat,” Tabby repeated, obviously amused.

  Isabella gave her a look that the younger woman blithely ignored. “Fine,” she told her under her breath. “But you can cash out your favorite bride for me.”

  Then she snatched the roll out of Erik’s fingers and escaped into the kitchen.

  “Don’t you be throwing out that roll, either,” she heard Erik call loudly. “Bubba, you make sure she doesn’t.”

  Isabella ignored the heaping plate of meat loaf the grinning cook held out and went out the back door.

  She threw herself down on one of the benches at the picnic table and glared at the soft roll. The strawberry jam glistened invitingly. The butter was straight from the creamery in town. And the rolls—well, nobody made better rolls, whether they were dinner rolls or cinnamon rolls, than Tabby Taggart. She came in at an ungodly hour in the mornings to make them from scratch.

  She sighed. Ate the roll. Licked strawberry jam from her finger.

  “That’s better.”

  She couldn’t even pretend to be surprised that Erik had appeared around the back corner of the building. “Are you skipping out on your check? You know, it comes off the server’s pay when you do that.”

  He set the basket of rolls he was carrying on the table and straddled the opposite bench. He didn’t bother to answer the ridiculous accusation.

  They both knew he wasn’t the type to skip out on anything.

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s eating at you?”

  She snatched another roll from the basket and found that he’d buttered and jammed all of the ones there, too. It only made them more tempting. A feat, considering her appetite had been pretty much nil for the past few days.

  Arguing with Murphy over everything from doing his homework to moving back to New York tended to do that even when she wasn’t plagued with the worrisome news that the caseworker had imparted.

  “Nothing’s eating at me.”

  “Right.” His gaze was steady. And it felt inescapable, even after Isabella turned her back on him and sat facing the other direction.

  She nibbled at the roll. There was a reason Ruby’s was always as busy as it was. The food might be simple, but nobody with a taste bud in their mouth could deny that it was unfailingly delicious.

  “I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”

  She frowned and looked over her shoulder at him. It was hard to stay indignant, knowing that he really did mean well.

  He was just that sort of man.

  “I’m a big girl. I’m quite able to handle my own problems.”

  “I’m not saying you can’t. But there’s nothing wrong with some help now and then. Or even just an ear, if that’s all you need.”

  She let out a sigh and turned away again. It only meant she was facing the plain backside of Ruby’s, but at least looking at white siding and a serviceable steel door didn’t give her heart palpitations the way looking at him did. “When’s the last time you ever needed help with anything?” He was undoubtedly the king of competence.

  “Needed Murph’s help to tear down that old barn,” he returned reasonably.

  She made a face at the white siding.

  Despite everything, the dappled sunlight felt so warm and welcome on her shoulders. “Not the same thing and you know it.”

  “What I’d like to know is what’s making that uniform hang on you.”

  A flippant answer came to her lips but she just didn’t have the heart to voice it. She rubbed her forehead. Pinched the bridge of her nose. “They’ve found Murphy’s mother,” she said. It was the first time she’d said the words aloud. To anyone.

  And she’d chosen him, of all people, to confide in.

  She closed her eyes, shutting out the plain white siding.

  She heard Erik swear softly. Then he moved around the table and sat down beside her. She could feel the warmth of him against her shoulder, but aside from that, he made no move to touch her.

  And she appreciated it.

  If he’d slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders or taken her hand or anything, she was pretty sure she’d just fall apart altogether.

  That was a luxury she had no time for. She was a parent now. At least for the time being. Parents weren’t supposed to be weak. Surely that was written in a rule book somewhere.

  “How’d you find out?” His voice was quiet. Steady.

  And again, she appreciated it. “Our caseworker, Monica, called me.” She hesitated for a moment. “I haven’t told Murphy.”

  “Sounds wise to me.”

  “Does it?” Her lips twisted. “This is his mother we’re talking about. He has a right to know about it.”

  “He’s eleven. And you’ve already said that she’s never been a mother to him. I think taking time with the news until you’ve figured out the ramifications is just showing some responsibility on your part.”

  “Responsibility?” She set aside the roll. It had lost its appeal. “More like fear.”

  “Fear of what?”

  “Losing him to her.”

  “Could that happen? Where is she?”

  “Anything could happen,” she said huskily. She’d learned that when a perfectly hale and hearty firefighter was felled by an infection. She picked at a ragged fingernail. She’d given up on paying for manicures months ago. “She’s living in a halfway house in Jersey.”

  “Drugs?”

  She nodded. “Monica said Kim’s been testing clean since she got out of prison several months ago. She has a regular job managing her uncle’s convenience store.” Her voice turned raw. “If all that continues, it won’t be long before Kim will be able to leave the halfway house.” Add in Jimmy’s very healthy life-insurance policy that was out of reach to Isabella and his son, and Kim could turn out to be a very attractive candidate to raise her own child. And Lord knew that Murphy wanted to be raised by his mother rather than Isabella. He told her so, regularly.

  “That doesn’t mean you’ll lose Murphy.”

  Isabella looked at him. No matter how hard she tried to keep them at bay, tears glazed her vision. “Short-term fiancée versus biological mother? What sort of choice is that?”

  His jaw set, looking hard. “Loving, dedicated parent versus woman who has never tried being a parent at all? Is she asking to see him? Saying that she wants him?”

  “Not yet.” Isabella gnawed on the inside of her cheek. “It’s just a matter of time, though.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s his mother!” She pushed off the bench. “What kind of mother doesn’t want her own child?” Her head ached. She knew good and well that Monica Solis would prefer to see Murphy with his biological mother if she could talk her into taking him. Not because Monica didn’t approve of Isabella necessarily, but because she wanted to keep families together.

  For once, Isabella wished they had a caseworker more like the ones she’d had as a child, who hadn’t seemed to care much about anything, least of all her.

  “This isn’t all about Murphy, is it?”

  “Of course it is.” She brushed her hands down the front of her pink uniform and picked up the basket of rolls. “Do you want any of these?”

  His gaze didn’t waver from her face. He shook his head slowly.

  She stepped over to one of the trash bins and threw out the remaining rolls. They couldn’t be served to anyone else, and she’d lost what little appetite they’d momentarily spurred. “I have to get back to work.”

  “Isabella—”

  “The only thing I have going for me where Murphy is concerned is this job here and the classes at Lucy’s. I don’t want to lose ei
ther.”

  He gave her a chiding look. “You’re not going to lose anything for taking a well-deserved break.”

  “I don’t need a break!” Her voice rose and she turned away from him, tears blinding her.

  “Isabella.” He sighed her name and his hands closed over her shoulders, turning her around into his chest. His hands slid over her back. “It’s going to be all right.”

  She fisted her hands between them. The desire to just lean into him was overwhelming. To let someone else do the worrying for her. But she’d never had anyone to do that for her. Not even Jimmy. She’d barely had time to adjust to his explosion into her life when he’d left it just as abruptly.

  The dappled sunlight had nothing on Erik’s hands, stroking slowly up and down her back. He was warm and strong and steady, and she felt she was on the verge of crumbling to dust. “What if it’s not?”

  “Don’t think that way. Isabella, you’re not—”

  “Um, sorry.” Tabby had pushed open the back door. “Isabella, you have a call from the school.”

  Isabella swiped her cheeks and pulled away from Erik’s arms. She looked at Tabby, who was clearly uncomfortable. “The school? Why?” What had Murphy done now? And how serious would it be?

  Enough to get him taken away from her for good, Kim or no Kim?

  Erik’s hand closed over her shoulder. “Don’t go thinking the worst,” he said softly.

  “It’s the principal’s office,” Tabby told her. “It just sounded important.”

  Isabella nodded. What else could she do? She put one foot in front of the other and felt Erik’s hand fall away. She shivered, reached the doorway and slipped past Tabby. She was aware of Erik following but couldn’t manage a protest.

  Just get to the phone, she thought. Get to the phone and deal with the latest disaster. That was all she had to do. Her hand shook as she picked up the old-fashioned receiver hanging by its coiled cord from the wall. “This is Isabella Lockhart.”

  Erik came up to stand beside her. He didn’t touch her. But his presence helped steady her anyway.

  “Ms. Lockhart.” The voice on the other end of the line was brisk. “This is Viola Timms from the elementary school. Principal Gage would like you to come down as soon as possible to meet with him.”

  Isabella pressed a fist to the knot in her stomach. The day that she’d registered Murphy, the middle-aged secretary had struck her as full of heavy-duty starch. She’d had no reason to change her opinion since. “Is Murphy all right?”

  “He’s all right. But he is in the principal’s office. He’s been suspended.”

  “Suspended,” she echoed, dismayed. But at least it wasn’t another expulsion. The first one had happened right after Jimmy died. She’d gotten Murphy into another school only for him to earn yet another expulsion. The third school had been harder to come by. And the brownstone incident had occurred soon after. Isabella knew then that she had to get him out of New York and away from his so-called friends there. “For how long?”

  “Three days. It’s mandatory. Principal Gage will explain everything when you come to pick up Murphy.”

  It was the middle of the lunch rush. “He’s not allowed to finish out the day,” she guessed. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Lockhart.” A moment later, Isabella was listening to the dial tone.

  She slowly replaced the receiver. Both Erik and Tabby were watching her. “Guess I’ll be taking a break after all,” she said. She pulled off her white apron. “I’m sorry, Tabby. I know this leaves you in a lurch right when we’re the busiest. But I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She focused on her boss and ignored the frown growing on Erik’s face. “I’m afraid I’ll have to bring Murphy back to the café with me.”

  Tabby waved a dismissive hand and followed her over to the four narrow lockers that they used to store their personal belongings while on shift. “That doesn’t matter to me. Murphy will be fine here. And in the meantime, Bubba can help out front. Most everybody is ordering the special anyway.” She tilted her head and looked at Isabella closely. “Are you okay?”

  Just put one foot in front of the other.

  Get to the school.

  “I’m fine.” She pulled her purse out of the locker.

  Meet with the principal.

  Deal with the situation. Just one step at a time.

  She fumbled through her purse searching for her car keys. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  She turned toward the back door again, only to find Erik standing in her way. “I’ll drive you,” he said.

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “You’re as white as a sheet.” Despite her resistance, he easily tugged the keys out of her hand and dropped them back inside her purse. “You’re not getting behind the wheel of a car when you’re this upset.”

  She wished she had the energy to bristle.

  The truth of the matter was that she could walk to the elementary school very easily from Ruby’s. It would only save a few minutes at the most by driving over there. But she didn’t seem to have the energy for that, either.

  And what did it matter if Erik took her to the school?

  He already knew more about the situation with Murphy than anyone else in town did.

  So she just nodded and headed out the back door.

  A school suspension. Murphy’s mother being located.

  How many more signs did she need before she faced the fact that she had no more business trying to be a parent than the woman who’d abandoned her when she’d been a baby?

  Chapter Eight

  “I met with Principal Gage when I registered Murphy for school,” Isabella told Eric as they walked down the empty hall of Weaver Elementary School. Their heels rang on the plain, utilitarian tile. Even though it was obvious that Isabella would have preferred that Erik wait in the truck, he’d accompanied her inside.

  “He’s a decent guy. Cares a lot about the kids here.” Joe Gage had become principal long after Erik had attended. But his mother gave Joe high marks, and she’d know—she’d taught here back in the days that Joe had been a teacher himself, and she was now head of the school board.

  “Even ones like Murphy?”

  “Especially ones like Murphy.” He touched the small of her back, guiding her around the corner that led to the main office.

  “Hey, Viola,” he said as they entered. He knew it irritated the woman immensely to be addressed by her first name. She was that way even at church. “Ms. Lockhart is here to see Joe.”

  “Please have a seat,” Viola said properly. “Principal Gage will be with you shortly.” She pressed a button on her phone and spoke quietly into it.

  Erik led Isabella to the trio of empty yellow chairs lined up against the wall opposite the secretary’s desk.

  Isabella sat, holding her purse clenched on her lap. She stared at the round clock on the wall above the desk.

  “I think these are the same chairs they had when I used to get sent to the principal’s office,” he observed as he sat beside her.

  She made a faint sound. But then, after a moment, she looked at him. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  He couldn’t help himself. He unlatched her white-knuckled fingers from the purse and folded her cold hand inside his. “I said these look like the same chairs they had back when I went to school here.”

  “I’m sure you were never sent to the principal’s office.”

  “You’d be wrong.” The door to Joe’s office was closed. He wondered if the man was in there right now with Murphy. Supposed he probably was. Back in Erik’s time at the school, whenever he’d been sitting in the principal’s office, it wasn’t likely that he’d be sent back to cool his heels in class until one of his folks came to spring him. He hitched his ankle across his knee. “I don’t even remember how many times I was hauled in.” She hadn’t pulled her hand away from his. It was just resting there inside the curve of his fingers, tense and still curled into a fist.

 
; But her lips twisted with disbelief as she looked at him. “For what? Crossing outside the crosswalk?”

  He smiled faintly. Tartness right now from her was a good thing. Certainly a hell of a lot better than that whipped look she’d had ever since she’d told him about Murphy’s mother. “Smoking,” he admitted. “Third grade, I think that was.”

  “Third grade,” she echoed. “Good grief. What were you doing with cigarettes in the third grade?”

  “Trying to smoke ’em,” he said wryly. “And my parents had a lot more to say about it than ‘good grief,’” he recalled. “Fourth grade was for getting into a fight with Wally Drysdale over who got to sit behind Cindy Schaeffer. Broke his nose.”

  “You had a violent streak.”

  “Not particularly. I’d still feel a little bad about it, except that ol’ Wally took his face—that the broken nose gave an interesting cast to—out to Chicago after high school and he’s been modeling underwear ever since. Goes by Chad now.”

  She didn’t look as if she believed him, but her fist was starting to relax. “What was so special about Cindy Schaeffer?”

  “She had the longest braids of any girl in school. And they were as orange as carrots.”

  “And after the broken nose, who got to sit behind her?”

  “I did.” He bobbed the toe of his boot, wondering what was taking Joe so damn long. “But then I tied them in a knot while we were watching a National Geographic film and got sent to these same chairs again.”

  Her lips actually curved up a hair. “You did not do that.”

  “Cross my heart.” He thought back. “By the time I was Murph’s age, the principal had my folks’ phone number on speed dial.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Did they even have speed dial that long ago?”

  “Hey. Thirty-one isn’t that old.”

  “I’m thirty-one,” she said. The faint upward curve at the corners of her lips disappeared. “And sometimes it feels positively ancient.”

  He squeezed her hand. “That’s because you’ve had a tough year. It’ll get better.”

  “I wish I could believe that.” She sighed. Then she hopped to her feet the second Joe Gage’s door cracked open.