by Jen Atkinson
“You’re staying, huh?” I asked, my tone clipped. I tried to sound nice for Dakota—really I did—but he just invited himself into my house, to cook and to eat. I didn’t know how to respond to any of it without annoyance.
“I’d planned to,” he said, unfazed.
“Of course he’s staying. He made dinner.”
I shrugged. “I was just asking, Kotes.”
“After you to try this chicken alfredo, you may ask me to stay forever,” he said, dishing thick noodles onto each plate and avoiding my gaze.
“Ha!” I squawked—forget nice. “That’s doubtful.”
Carter
Dakota swirled the last noodle of her second plate onto her fork and into her mouth. Emma hadn’t made it easy to stay—but I needed to for Dakota. I had to know a few things. I’d become mentally invested in this little person and my mind and heart wouldn’t allow me to ignore that.
“You need to read ma’am,” Emma said, her softer side ever present when she spoke with Dakota.
“But we didn’t make it to the library, remember? I finished Wishing Well last night.”
“That’s right, you did. But you still haven’t opened this last present.” She glanced across the table, accidentally meeting my eyes. “Say goodbye to the deputy and then you can open your gift.”
Maybe my imagination toyed with me, but little Dakota’s brows rose at the mention of a gift and fell at the thought of my leaving. “Don’t mind me,” I said, stalling. I wanted to linger, even if it meant putting myself in the middle of Emma Sunday’s wrath. “I’m not leaving until these dishes are done.”
“Really?” Emma barked. “I can do my own dishes.”
“I know. But I made this mess.”
“Mama, be nice.”
“Fine,” she said, her sweet tone fake—like artificial honey dripping from her lips. “He can do the dishes.” She pushed her half empty plate toward me and reached for the box at the back of the table.
I piled my arms with dirty dishes.
Emma waited until I’d turned my back to speak again. “This one is from me, baby girl.”
“You got me a present, too?”
I peeked over my shoulder to see Dakota already wrapping her arms around Emma.
“Of course I did. I’ve never missed.”
“I know, but you had all that job searching.”
Emma’s eyes glistened and I prayed she wouldn’t cry again. “Well, the search is over. It’s not much, anyhow.”
I’d involuntarily turned my whole body around and leaned against the counter edge to see what this strange woman had gotten for her daughter. Dakota ripped into the paper and tipped the lid off of the box. She pulled a pretty pink sweater out, her eyes wide.
“Where’d you get this?”
“Grandma Daisy made it for me years ago.” She held the knitted sweater up to Dakota’s small frame. “We both know pink is not my color, so I never did wear it.” Her eyes went round like marbles and Dakota giggled at the face. “But I knew it would be so pretty with your blonde curls. And these,” Emma said, pulling a stack of books from the box, “were mine too. But these, I used. I was a few years older than you when I read them, but I knew you could handle them, my smart girl.”
“New books?” Kotes hugged them to her chest, then she held them up for me to see.
They weren’t new, but thrilled Dakota anyway.
“Okay, twenty-minutes. Go on.”
Dakota slipped into the little pink sweater, the arms wrinkled and bunched where the sleeves were a few inches too long, and then bolted from the kitchen with her books.
I had questions for Emma—about Dakota’s dad. Did he know how his daughter lived? What about saving for college? This little girl needed some watch-care. I slid my zoned out stare from her patterned linoleum to her face, but Emma already assessed me with a hard scowl. “What?” I held up the dry dishrag in my hand.
“Do you often go into homes and remove little children without their parent’s approval?”
“Huh? You—you are the one who told me—"
She stood, her long, skinny legs striding across the hard floor like a slithering snake. She pointed her finger at me. “I told you to drop off the dog.”
“Virgie wouldn’t let me!”
“Not my fault.” She poked me in the chest. “You’re the idiot who let it pee all over her carpet.”
“I didn’t let him pee, he just peed.”
“Do you have any idea how long Virgie’s had that carpet? It’s in pristine condition. No one strays from the plastic.”
“Shiva did,” I lamely said.
Her mouth wrinkled and I almost thought Emma Sunday might laugh. How strange, I honestly couldn’t even imagine such a thing. But she didn’t. She screwed her mouth into a wrinkled purse and turned her mighty glare on Keith. “Where in the world did you find such an ugly mutt anyway? Did you go looking for the most horrid thing?”
Keith wagged his tail under the table, his head at attention.
“He’s not that ugly.”
“Oh, he is.”
Keith waddled over, sat in front of us, and stuck out his long, unruly tongue. Drool fell from his chin into a pile on Emma’s floor.
“You are just a gem, you know that. You buy gifts that fill other’s yards with crap and take children without their mother’s knowing.”
“I didn’t—” But I had. And after what happened with Taggart, I should have been more sensitive. I’d been trying to help. I found myself wanting to make this little girl happy, but that didn’t mean I was totally innocent. “You’re right,” I said, swallowing down my pride. “I should have asked you. I’m sorry.”
“Next time, just call me.” The hard lines and angry wrinkles that made Emma, well, Emma, softened, and her light hazel eyes glistened.
Next time—she’d said.
She turned toward the sink, picked up half an empty box of alfredo noodles on the counter—busying herself and not meeting my eyes anymore. She opened the cupboard above the sink and found it full of more food. Her eyes fluttered with a roll. “Dinner party my a—”
The front door slammed shut cutting her off. Taggart.
Chapter 17
Carter
“He’s home early,” Emma said, and I couldn’t decide if fear or anger shone in her eyes. She glanced at her watch, no doubt figuring how much time Dakota had left, and then turned to me. “Take the dog out.”
“Huh?” I turned off the hot water filling up the sink.
“The dog.” She snatched Keith’s leash from a hook by the back door and shoved it into my hands. “Take Keith out. We don’t have a fence, remember.”
“Sure. Okay.” I felt around Keith’s furry neckline for the hook of his collar.
“Emma!” Taggart’s bark sounded from the living room.
She stiffened but only nodded toward the exit before heading into the living room.
I led Keith along, slow and deliberate.
“You’re back early,” Emma said from the living room.
“Aren’t you observant. Where’s my meal?”
I opened the door and stepped through before another word could be heard. What did Dakota listen to everyday?
The snow covered ground and ice crunched under my feet. A shiver ran down the length of my body. I hadn’t bothered to grab my coat. We had to be below zero with the wind chill. In the dimness, I scanned around the place. Virgie’s to the right, the Letherby’s to the left. I patrolled my gaze back to the yard and saw that Emma was right, Keith had certainly left his mark in the yard. A shovel leaned against the back of the house, and I’d passed the outdoor garbage can parked right past the backdoor. I looped Keith’s leash around my wrist and went to work, cleaning up the yard. By the time I finished, Dakota only had a minute or two left of her twenty.
The warm air of Emma’s house began to thaw me the minute I entered. I ran my hands under a stream of warm water, washing and warming them all at once.
Tagga
rt’s low laugh sounded from the other room. “That’s what I thought.”
Hands in my pockets, I wandered into the room. Surely he knew I was here by now. His eyes flittered to me and then back to the television. Emma turned to leave and almost charged right into me. Her hands hit my chest before we could totally collide. Her gaze flicked up to mine, but instead of a snide remark, she just stared at me, her eyes red around the rims.
“Are you okay?”
With her hands on my chest, she shoved me away at the comment. It felt small and strong at the same time. Her old leather boots clunked on the floor as she stomped past me toward the hall that Dakota had skipped down almost twenty minutes ago.
“Take that thing with you!” Taggart growled. A plate of food, Emma must have dished, sat in front of him and he shook the fork in his hand as he yelled at her.
Emma patted her leg and without a word, Keith scurried after her.
“What did you say to her?” This lazy, sorry-excuse of a man that ruled Emma’s house didn’t scare me. I waited when he didn’t answer, and then I walked toward him and stood in front of his television.
His bushy brows pinch together and he flicked his gaze up to me. “What was that, Deputy?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, knowing I had to be stronger than him. “She looked as if she were about to cry. What’d you say?” I’m not sure when I became Emma’s defender—had she ever even offered me a kind word? But the red around her eyes, the way that she looked at Dakota—it made me her defender, whether I wanted to be or not.
“Emma don’t cry,” Taggart said with a snort. “You have to have a heart to cry.”
“You leave her alone.”
Taggart stabbed at the chicken alfredo on his plate. “You should just leave. She don’t like you. And this ain’t none of your business.”
Everything logical told me that I should leave. I should stop medaling in their lives and pointing out things they already knew. But I couldn’t do it. Maybe my training to protect and serve didn’t have an off switch. Maybe I couldn’t let this old drunk have the last word. Maybe it’s just who I am, but I couldn’t leave.
I traced Emma’s steps down the hallway, stopping when I heard her voice. She sang Dakota a song about a bird leaving it’s nest. Her low, almost gravelly voice didn’t have an outstanding quality to it, but I kind of liked it. It somehow soothed—like smoothing out all the rough edges of the day. I stood in the doorway, totally out of place, certainly out of line, but not able to go.
Emma lay next to Kotes on an abnormally small bed. The thing looked too little for Dakota, let alone Emma. Even with her small adult frame her legs hung off the edge, making her appear huge.
“You’re still here! Mama said you’d gone.” Dakota sat up and waved me into the room.
Emma’s words came out choppy. “I thought he would have left.” She sat up too, her knees up to her chin—as the tiny bed didn’t even have a frame.
I stood over them. “What in the world? Did you buy this bed from one of Santa’s elves?”
Dakota laughed, but Emma’s jaw went taut.
But I’d made Dakota giggle, so, “Did you grow five feet last night? Is seven a magical age when you turn into a giant?”
“No,” Dakota sang through fits of giggles. “It’s my baby bed. It still fits. See?” She held out her arms, showcasing the small bed and unimpressive room. A dresser stood in the corner that looked as if it had been built for Columbus himself. There were a few books on top of it and a sliding closet door against one wall.
“It’s not going to fit you for long.”
Dakota stretched her toes and they almost touched the end of what I finally realized had to be a crib mattress. The girl had a petite frame like her mother, but she’d outgrown the baby bed.
“All right, sis. Shower time.”
“Can I read? Just twenty more minutes.”
“Twenty more—that’s it. Set the timer.” Emma pinched her sides. “You’re starting to stink.”
“No, I’m not.” Dakota shook her head, but grinned.
“Say goodbye to the deputy.”
“Oh, I’m still doing the dishes.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder at the door. “I could use some help.” I extended a hand down toward Emma sitting on the baby mattress, offering to help her stand.
“Fine,” she said, pushing herself off the ground without my assistance.
The warm water from the sink sloshed onto my T-shirt. Emma stood next me drying the pot I used for the pasta.
“I will get her a bed—I just haven’t been able to yet.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Though I had in my head.
“But you wanted to.”
I couldn’t decide—perceptive or just paranoid? I guess paranoia didn’t have validity, and I had wondered about the bed. A seven year old girl shouldn’t be sleeping on a crib mattress. Was my opinion really so clear in my expression? “Where’s Dakota’s dad?”
“School.”
“How often does he see her?”
“Not often,” she said, and her tone became more growly with each word.
“Can’t he buy her a bed?”
She slammed the pot onto the countertop. “He’s never seen Dakota’s bed. He’s never even been in Dakota’s room. Keith came during summer break a year and a half ago and brought her a Barbie.” She said it like Barbie’s were evil.
“But he pays child support, right?”
“Keith?” She scoffed. “Keith’s got books and tuition to pay for. He can’t spare anything but a twenty dollar bill on his daughter’s birthday.”
“There are laws, though.”
“Yes, and the law says if he doesn’t pay, his rights to his child are limited. He’s not too worried about that. What would he do with her while he’s studying, anyhow?” She crossed her arms over her chest and faced me. Cramming her eyes shut like it pained her, she added, “Keith is not a horrible person. But once he found out I was pregnant he went MIA. He doesn’t want a lot to do with either of us. We’d cramp his style. I’m in this alone—and right now my salary says that crib bed will work for another year.” Her eyes grew red around the rims again. “Got it?”
“Got it,” I said, realizing I didn’t know enough to judge the situation. “You don’t have to be alone, though.” I leaned my hip against the edge of the counter and peered down at her, hoping she heard my sincerity, that she believed it.
The hardness that normally lined her every feature disappeared. Her eyes roved over my face and then with both of her palms flat against my chest, she shoved me hard, like a jackhammer to the heart. I stumbled backward, hitting against the wall and knocking the air out of my lungs. “Are you trying something again? I am not gonna fall for you, Deputy.”
Wheezing, I pulled in a breath. “What… is wrong… with you?”
“I saw that look in your eye.”
“No look.” Doubled over, I coughed out another breath.
Dakota sauntered in and I attempted to stand straight. I think that woman knew exactly where to hit. The air had been forced out of me and getting it back wasn’t proving easy. “I’m ready now, Mama.”
A strange, icy feeling cut through the room when Taggart entered. We all went silent. Emma side stepped out of the way, allowing him to open the fridge. He pulled a beer from its contents and sneered, looking us over before leaving.
My breath back, I put a hand on Emma’s wrist—maybe I wanted to get slugged again. “Hey, I can stay awhile.”
But she didn’t make a move to hit me again. “Go,” she said, “just go.”
Chapter 18
Emma
“So, Aiden Carter picked up Stink again, yesterday,” Virgie said, her wide bottom swaying a little.
I forced Dakota’s folder into her backpack. “Yep.” What else could I say? He had. Without asking me for permission he’d picked her up from Virgie’s, and he’d made us dinner for an entire week. He said he didn’t mind since he had to bring the dog back, a
nd I didn’t have another place to take Keith.
“That’s every day last week. And now starting in on this week, too?”
“Yep, and he—” I looked up, making sure she listened. Her brows danced on her head. “Virgie, what is that? What does that mean?”
“You must like him.”
“I tolerate him because Dakota likes him.” We stood in Virgie’s opened doorway, letting in the cold air to her nice warm house.
“Is that all? Come on Emma, woman to woman.”
I sighed, the zipper had jammed again. I yanked it up and then down again and again. I huffed, not meeting Virgie’s eyes or bouncing brows. “Woman to woman, Virg, you watch too many telenovelas.”
“I do not. I am merely a witness to these happenings.”
“There are no happenings, and the only thing you witness is Carter picking up Kotes. And,” I went full glare on her, “the only reason Carter picks up Kotes is because you won’t let Keith stay at your place for an hour.”
The obnoxious way she moved her eyebrows paused. “Emma Sunday, you know I can’t have that beast in my house. You know.”
“I know. Anyhow, thanks for letting her come for a few minutes this morning. Audrey Paskell had to have her massage first thing today. Hopefully, she doesn’t beat me there. Carter’s picking up the dog any minute, and so he’s just gonna take Kotes to school, too.”
“No problem,” she said and I looked away, fearing her brows would start up their bobbing again.
“Hey, there.” Carter called from his patrol car. He smiled, his chestnut hair combed back. Ugh, he was a morning person. His bright face said it all.
“Oh, hey there, Mr. Deputy.” Virgie waggled a few fingers.
“I told you to call me Aiden, Ms. Wire,” he said, walking up the path to Virgie’s home.
“Then you call me Virgie.” She giggled like she’d been blasted back to high school and spoke with the hunky quarter back.
