Safe in the Lawman's Arms

by Patricia Johns

  Mike glanced toward the two FBI agents. “Is that true? Is Moody in custody?”

  “It’s true,” came the curt reply.

  Conflicting emotions warred within him. His father might have been a hot mess when he was growing up, but at least he had a father. Now his dad would vanish—really vanish—and he’d never be able to contact him again. He’d always known that at his father’s funeral he would grieve deeply, regardless of how damaged his father had been, and it seemed as if that moment of grief was now.

  “I don’t know how to say goodbye.” Mike cleared his throat.

  Nate nodded, his gaze on the floor. “I know you don’t like me much, kiddo, but I love you.”

  Mike said nothing. He didn’t know how to answer his father. He knew how to get angry. He knew how to avoid a situation, but he didn’t know how to say goodbye on a dime. His father had been a negligent parent, an addict and a poor role model, but at least Mike had known his dad. That was something.

  “Mike, I always meant to shape up one day.” Nate’s voice was surprisingly steady. “I was going to make it up to you. I was.”

  “It’s okay.” Mike scrubbed a hand through his hair.

  “Not really,” Nate disagreed. “So this is my chance to do things right by you. I was the idiot who got involved with Sinclair Moody, and that put you in danger. Now, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be testifying, I can promise you that. But this isn’t about what I want, or what’s easy for me. This is about my son, for once. I don’t know how you turned out so good, kid, but you did, in spite of me. This time I want to protect you.”

  Mike was big and broad, muscular and solid, while his father was almost frail in comparison. His gray hair stood up in uncombed tufts, and his chin was covered in week-old silver stubble. He wrung his grease-stained hands in the silence.

  “I don’t think that’s really wise, Dad,” Mike muttered.

  “Wise or not, you’re still my son.”

  “I’m in a better position to protect you right now,” Mike replied.

  “That’s not the way it’s supposed to be, Mike.” Nate’s eyes flashed fire. “Let me do it right for once.”

  Was his father serious? Would he really testify and allow himself to be tucked away behind God’s back somewhere, giving up everything he knew to put one scumbag behind bars? Mike tried to swallow the lump that rose in his throat. “How do I know if you’re okay?”

  “How did you know before?” Nate retorted.

  “So this is it?” Mike asked. “Goodbye forever?”

  Nate nodded, tears sparkling in his eyes. “But before I go, I have to tell you that I’m sorry. I should have straightened up before—when it would have made a difference for you and me.”

  “Better late than never, I guess.”

  “Do you—?” Nate shifted uncomfortably. “Do you forgive me?”

  “Yeah.”

  Nate leaned forward and put an arm around Mike’s neck, pulling him into an awkward hug. Mike stayed there for a long moment, his face against his father’s thin neck, smelling that combination of grease and cigarette smoke that he’d always associated with the man. Then his father released him and stood quickly to his feet.

  “Okay, well,” Nate said gruffly. “This one is for you, okay? For you.”

  Mike rose to his feet as his father went toward the door. “Dad?”

  Nate turned, tears on his weathered cheeks. “Yeah?”

  “I love you, too.”

  Nate nodded. “I know.” He raised his hand in an impotent little wave, then followed the first agent out the door, sandwiched by the second. As quickly as they’d arrived, they were leaving. Mike stood in the doorway, the cool summer air caressing his face as the agent slammed shut the back door to the car and then got into the driver’s seat. Mike couldn’t see into the backseat where his father sat—the windows were all tinted black.

  Was his father looking at him?

  He waved, then let his hand drop.

  There had been a time, a long time ago, when Mike had fantasized about his father going away and staying away—his father had been absent for the past ten years, so it didn’t really change anything except the possibility of his reappearance. His dad would never be back. What he wouldn’t give for a few more weeks with his father around.

  “Bye, Dad—” The tears rose up in his throat and cut off his words. The car backed out of the drive and disappeared in a swirl of dust down the road. For the first time in Nate’s life, he’d done something for his son without any thoughts for himself.

  At least Nate was going out as a father.

  Mike heard a rustle behind him and he turned to see Malory at the bottom of the stairs. Tears glistened in her eyes. She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him, leaning her cheek against his chest. She didn’t speak, didn’t ask anything of him, just held him in a warm, gentle embrace. She’d seen it all, and he was relieved not to have to explain this one. He slid his arms around her, and he realized as he stroked her silky hair that despite her difficult pregnancy and delicate frame, she was the strongest one in the room right now. He needed her strength just as much as she needed his.

  A few minutes later, Mike mounted the stairs. The next day, the Petersens would come to see their new daughter, and he’d also do the right thing and put a little girl’s needs ahead of his own. With Sinclair Moody behind bars, she’d be safe from her biological father, but Mike could do one better and free her from the Cruises completely.

  She’d have a life of matching tracksuits and devoted parents, and God willing, she’d never remember the messy life of crime and ugliness that she came from.

  * * *

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Malory sat on the window seat in her white nightgown, the pink morning light flooding over her. She smoothed one hand over her belly, humming softly to her baby.

  The night had been a restless one. After she’d witnessed Mike’s goodbye with his father, she’d lain awake, listening to the groan of the house shifting, the sound of the wind in the leaves.

  When dawn finally came, she’d gotten up, but remembering the doctor’s orders, she sat on the window seat and watched the world as it was bathed in pink light, then soft gold. She turned at a creak on the floorboards in the hallway to see Mike standing there, fully dressed.

  “Did you go to bed at all?” Malory asked.

  He shook his head. “I meant to, but it didn’t happen.”

  “It’s a new day,” she said quietly. “My mother used to say that everything looked better in morning light.”

  “Does it?” he asked.

  “Come see.” She gestured for him to join her, and he came slowly into the room, then carefully lowered himself onto the little seat beside her. He looked out the window at the peaceful scene.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot,” Mike said quietly.

  “What about?”

  The sunlight was growing stronger, and with the morning rays came the joyful twittering of birds outside.

  “About us,” he said.

  Malory smiled wistfully. So had she, truth be told, but her thoughts had been wishes and fantasies—something that was much clearer to her now that she was in daylight.

  “Mike, we shouldn’t go there—”

  “I think we should.” He caught her gaze and held it. “Look, all of this is ending so quickly, and I’m not ready for that.”

  “Whoever is?” she asked with a slight shrug. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Me, too. But what if we didn’t have to end it?”

  With the jumble of events, she hadn’t really thought about what Nate’s gesture would mean for her. The danger was past—Moody in FBI custody.

  Malory froze, a wave of longing coursing over her. Was the drama really all over? She wished that she could say yes, that she could just lose herself in this little town called Hope, that she could wake up to mornings like this one every single day and exist in this dream world. But she couldn’t.

  “Mike, I can’t do tha
t.” She shook her head. “This isn’t my life. It’s yours.”

  “We could see where things went. Maybe you’d want to make it your life, too.”

  An image flashed in Malory’s mind of her mother, standing before a full-length mirror as she got ready for a date. Malory, a young child at the time, watched her mother putting in her earrings, and her mother was saying, “I have a good feeling about this one, sweetie pie...”

  Her mother always had a good feeling about the men she dated. She always thought that each one of them had the potential to be Mr. Right. She’d never seen it coming—even after the fifth or sixth time her Mr. Right walked out the door.

  Sitting here in the morning light, she could understand her mother’s optimism, because she shared it—but there was a difference... Malory was wiser than her mother had been.

  “No.” She swallowed back the lump rising in her throat. “I’m sorry, Mike. I’m going home.”

  He was silent for a moment, and he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

  “When are you leaving?” he asked.

  “Today.”

  “Seriously?” He straightened. “So soon? Why not stay a few more days?”

  “It’s better this way,” she replied.

  “Why?” He frowned. “Look, Malory, you were only in the hospital a few days ago. Don’t you think you owe it to yourself to rest a bit?”

  “No.” She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t. The longer I stay here—” She bit back the words.

  “What?” he prompted. “The longer you stay here, what?”

  “The more attached I get to—to this life—to—” She didn’t know how to pull it all together into words.

  “Malory, it’s okay to get attached. I can take care of you.”

  “I’m not your duty, Mike,” she replied, her tone sharper than she intended. But she meant it.

  “Who said you were?”

  “The whole town is your duty.” She jutted her chin in the direction of the window. “Everyone here. You take care of this town like a mother hen. I’m not one your chicks.”

  He laughed softly. “Do I really mollycoddle you that much?” His tone suggested that he wasn’t buying it.

  “I don’t need special treatment,” she retorted, attempting to control her rising voice. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t want this. I want to go home.”

  Mike froze before his expression turned to granite once more. Malory hated the professional reserve that he hid behind, making her feel like the emotional one, when she knew that he was feeling just as much as she was.

  “I don’t get you,” he said at last. “A man treats you properly, and you fight it tooth and nail. What have I done that’s so wrong? I was considerate. I tried to make you comfortable.”

  “You gave me special treatment because I’m pregnant!”

  “And good thing, too!” he fired back. “You were in the hospital, remember?”

  “Let’s be perfectly clear,” she replied, unable to control the quiver in her voice. “I don’t need a man to take care of me. The break-ins and all that—I needed a sheriff to keep me safe, but my personal life is another matter. In my personal life, I’m taking care of myself.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes!” She stood up, then remembered again the doctor’s orders and sat back down grumpily. “Yes.” She shook her head. “It might be hard right now. It might be hard for a really long time, but I don’t need anyone else to swoop in and rescue me. I’m fine. I can do this.”

  “Okay.” He stood up, the mask disintegrating. Pain flickered deep in his dark gaze. “Just tell me straight—do you feel what I do? Because I’m falling for you, Malory.”

  She looked away, tears in her eyes, then heaved a sigh. “It doesn’t matter what I feel, Mike. I know what I have to do.”

  “And why wouldn’t your feelings matter?” he demanded, shaking his head. “If you feel what I do—”

  “Because I saw my mother do this again and again and again, and I swore to myself I would never become her!”

  She remembered her mother, sitting on the side of her bed, sniffling into a crumpled tissue as her mascara ran down her cheeks in inky trails. Malory would stand there feeling helpless. She’d known what the problem was from a young age—her mother thought she needed these random boyfriends. She’d thought that they would solve all her problems. But Malory and her mom hadn’t needed these men at all—they’d needed each other. She’d needed her mother, her strong, happy, confident mother, not the broken, dejected soul who sat on the edge of her bed weeping out her misery into a sodden tissue.

  Mike shook his head in frustration.

  “Okay,” he said. “If you change your mind—”

  “I won’t,” she said quickly, swallowing her doubt.

  He nodded, then turned and walked out of the room, leaving her alone with the morning sunlight, the birds and that seat beside the window.

  Never before had she realized just how hard it would be to become someone different. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, and the tears that had been trapped for what felt like days finally spilled down her cheeks.

  But under all that sadness and fear, under the tears that kept coming, she finally admitted what she’d been shoving down all this time—she was in love with that burly sheriff with the heart of gold. It was good to acknowledge why this hurt so badly. But it didn’t change anything.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Good morning.” Mike forced a smile and stepped back as the Petersens and the adoption agent came inside. The couple looked around nervously while Ms. Nelson gave a professional smile and nod. They all stood next to Malory’s bags, which sat ready by the door.

  Just the sight of those bags made his heart ache. It was all ending today—all of it. He’d go right back to being the most eligible bachelor in the county, his home quiet and undisturbed. And he hated it.

  “This is a big day,” Belinda said, sucking in a deep breath. “Is she awake yet?”

  “Yeah, she’s just in there.” He gestured them into the living room.

  “We got her room ready last night,” Belinda went on. “It’s all pink—a ballerina theme. I think she’ll love it.”

  Ned nodded, his gaze locked on Mike. “And how are you?” he asked. Could the doctor sense Mike’s reluctance?

  “I’m good, thanks.” Mike hoped that his expression didn’t betray the complicated emotions boiling inside him. His issues today weren’t their problem. They were here to enlarge their family, and he was supposed to help them do it.

  The couple moved over to the couch and sat down, their knees lined up like last time, their jeans the exact same shade of blue denim. They nodded to Malory, who sat in the easy chair, her legs tucked up. Katy sat on Malory’s lap, her green dress crinkled up around her hips as she stared at the Petersens distrustfully.

  “Hi, Katy,” Belinda said softly.

  Malory’s smile was strained, and Mike didn’t blame her. This certainly wasn’t a happy day—not for them, at least.

  “We’re so thrilled to see you today, Katy.” Belinda smiled. “Do you know why we’re here?”

  Katy nodded.

  “Why?” Belinda asked softly.

  “You’re going to be my mommy and daddy.”

  “That’s right,” Ned chimed in gently. “And we’re really happy that you’re going to be our little girl.”

  Katy didn’t answer, but she looked up at Malory, her eyes wide. Mike had to stifle the urge to step between them and bodily block their view of Katy. Ms. Nelson noticed Katy’s reluctance, as well, and she leaned forward, taking control of the conversation.

  “I’d like to make sure that Katy is comfortable before we discuss how we’re going to do this,” Ms. Nelson said. “We could start with a few overnight visits, if that makes things easier. Either Katy could come back here for a few days in between to help with the transition, or, Mike, you could go and visit her at her new home.
But we’ll be able to talk about that a bit more as we go on...”

  The conversation continued—the Petersens talking about the preparations they had made, pulling out a present for Katy. Katy wasn’t lured over this time, even when Malory encouraged her, whispering in her ear that it would be all right. And as Mike watched the scene unfold, he couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t making a monumental mistake.

  His father was willing to sacrifice in order to be a good dad, just once, but what if Katy didn’t need this sacrifice? What if, instead of sacrificing his own longing to keep the little girl in his home, Mike just stepped up to be the dad she needed?

  “Katy, come see what I brought you,” Belinda urged. “It’s a teddy bear. I used to play with a teddy bear just like this one when I was a little girl like you.”

  Katy shook her head, tears in her eyes. “No. I don’t want it.”

  Belinda let the bear drop to her lap. This wasn’t easy on them, either, Mike could see.

  Katy inched slowly down from Malory’s lap, but instead of moving toward the Petersens, she dashed to Mike and latched on to his leg.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Mike said quietly and lifted her up into his arms. She was still as light as a feather, her thin arms wrapped around his neck tightly. She pressed her cheek against his, and she trembled ever so slightly.

  “Uncle Mike,” she whispered in a little voice. “Why can’t you be my daddy?”

  Mike couldn’t stop his tears, and he wrapped his arms around her. What could he say? He should put her down, but he found that he couldn’t. Either she wouldn’t let go, or he wouldn’t, but neither of them moved.

  His father might be sacrificing everything for Mike, and while he’d been so certain that a life away from the Cruises was the best thing for Katy, another thought occurred to him. When he was growing up in the middle of all that chaos and addiction, while he dreamed of a day that his father would just leave and never come back, he might have been better off dreaming of a day when his father could kick the alcohol and be the father he desperately needed. Sometimes the answer wasn’t to stand strong alone—sometimes the best solution was to stand strong together. Maybe Katy didn’t have to stop being a Cruise to be safe from the family curse.