by Hope Ford
“Nothing’s wrong. I thought you could get a run in before work, that’s all,” she says as she goes through the clothes hanging in my closet. If she’s trying to find workout clothes, she might as well give up.
“Mom! It’s four-thirty in the morning. I’m tired. If I wanted to get up early to exercise, I would have.”
“Honey, if you’re determined to work at that bakery, you’re going to have to put in some extra gym time. That’s all there is to it.”
I pull the blanket up over myself and can’t hold back the scream of frustration. I’ve got to get looking for my own place.
My dad’s pounding footsteps in the hall have me peeking out from under the covers. “What in the world is going on here?” he asks.
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Guilt comes over me. I feel bad for screaming because I know I shouldn’t have woken him up. “We’re fine, everything is fine.”
My mom walks out, throwing her hands up, and I do my best to give my dad a look to let him know that everything is okay. My dad hates it when my mom and I argue, and I hate to disappoint my dad.
After assuring him everything is fine, I get up out of bed. I use the extra time to do more with my hair and makeup, trying to make an effort so my mom will lay off of me already.
I leave the house without another run-in with my mother, and I’m sure it’s because my dad convinced her to go back to bed.
At work, I enjoy getting to do some of the cooking and baking, putting in my own extra touches on the displays.
When the sheriff from the day before comes in midmorning, I do my best not to blush, even though I know it’s going to happen. He’s very handsome.
“Hey, Sheriff…”
“Scott.” He interrupts me with a smile.
“Hey, Scott. What can I get you?”
“Coffee, please. The same as yesterday,” he says. I can stand here and admire his dark brown eyes and the way his skin crinkles on the side as he smiles at me, but I don’t. I turn to make his coffee with a little bit of my homemade vanilla creamer and a smidge of cinnamon.
“Will that be all for you?”
He laughs then. A sound that seems to vibrate in the room. “No, that will be it. Thanks for not offering me a donut.”
He must see the confusion on my face until it finally dawns on me about the saying with cops liking donuts. “Sure, but don’t you want a cinnamon roll or something to go with your coffee?”
“I don’t really like a lot of sweets. And I admit, I’m not easy to feed in the morning because there’s not a lot that would entice me to eat.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m not really a morning person. At least I don’t think I am, but I have to say, waking up was easier today knowing I’d be seeing your smiling face behind the counter.”
Is he flirting with me? Surely not. I shake my head as if I’m knocking the thoughts right out of it. Don’t be stupid, Carrie.
I know he’s just being friendly, but I find myself blushing nonetheless. I focus instead on the challenge he’s thrown down about finding something that would actually entice him to eat early in the morning. “You’ve challenged me now. I’ll have to figure out what kind of food I can get you to order.”
He laughs and warns me again, “I promise you, I just can’t do sweets in the morning.”
“I’ll remember,” I assure him.
The morning rush starts to pick up, and Scott leaves with a refill of his coffee. He waves at me from the door, and of course like a schoolgirl with a crush, I’m staring at him, so I awkwardly wave back at him.
The rest of the morning goes by fast because any time there is a lull in guests, I’m brainstorming different ideas of what I can make to tempt Scott to eat in the mornings.
Scott
I walk out of the bakery and look up Main Street, which already seems to be bustling this morning. I take a deep breath of the clean mountain air and am so glad I decided to take on the sheriff position in the small town of Forest Grove. It’s like fate stepped in and made the position open to me a year ago, and everything seems to be working out. My life is set; I’m doing what I love. Now, all I need is someone to share my life with.
Instantly, thoughts of Carrie come to mind, and I stop myself from turning around and looking in the big windows of the bakery. I don’t need another glance to know that she’s too young for me. After a little bit of digging, I discovered that she’s twenty-three years old. She’s six years younger than me, and I’m sure she’s not even close to wanting to settle down. And I’m not looking for a one-night stand. I may be only be twenty-nine, but I’m ready for a wife and kids. I could think about Carrie all day, but I spot Crawford chatting it up with some young women while he’s on the clock.
Instead of walking toward my cruiser, I approach Officer Crawford on foot. He’s turned with his back toward me, so it makes it easy for me to get close enough to hear the conversation.
“You can come over to my house later,” I hear him say.
I reach his side and look at the two girls in shock. “How old are you?” I ask them.
One is holding her books to her chest and mumbles, “Fifteen,” just as the other says, “Sixteen.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” I ask them.
“Yes, sir,” they say before taking off down the sidewalk.
I turn toward the rookie. Anger has me flexing my hands at my sides, and I know if he says the wrong thing, like he knew they were underage, it wouldn’t take much for me to punch the guy in the face.
“I’m so embarrassed, sir. I thought they were in college,” Officer Crawford says.
I watch him closely as he’s talking, and I’m not convinced he’s telling the truth. However, it’s most likely Crawford didn’t care how old the girls are; he’s just happy to receive attention from the opposite sex. “Being a police officer is not about picking up women. It’s dangerous and requires men and women who have a passion to uphold and enforce the law. Now you’re new here, but being an officer with the Forest Grove Police Department requires you to act a certain way. We don’t flirt while on the job, and we definitely don’t proposition underage girls.”
Crawford starts to speak, but I hold my hand up to stop him. “I know. You say you didn’t know how old they were, but that’s a moot point. This is your first strike against you. You will be reprimanded, and it will go in your file.”
Crawford is red-faced, and I’m not sure if it’s from embarrassment or anger. He apologizes but does so in a way that tells me he’s not really sorry.
“Return your patrol car to the station. You can walk your beat today,” I tell him. I’m not going to put up with this type of behavior. If nothing else, the new rookie cop should know that.
I can tell that Crawford is angry, but at least he’s smart enough not to mouth off.
Dealing with him has left a sour taste in my mouth and ruined the good start to my day. I have a strong urge to return to the bakery to talk with Carrie. Something about her makes me feel happy and rejuvenated. It’s really too bad that I’m now going to have to follow Crawford back to the station to be sure he turns in his patrol car.
5
Carrie
My mom and her friends are coming in for their weekly lunch at the bakery. Luckily, Patty takes mercy on me and gives me an hour lunch so I won’t have to wait on them. I’m sure Patty knows that if I do, I’ll be the main topic of the conversation and nobody, especially me, wants to be part of that.
I pack up a sandwich and take it with the newspaper to Peach Park. It may be a little premature, but I’m going to start looking for a place to live. I know I’ll have to save first and last month’s rent, and there could be a deposit as well, but I still think it’s a good idea to see what my options are.
I circle one of the four listings just as I hear a child crying. Stunned, I sit startled for just a second before I go in search of where the noise is coming from. I find a little boy sitting on the water’s edge. “Hey there,” I say to him.
&nb
sp; He looks up at me, his eyes wide, but doesn’t respond.
“Can you tell me your name?” I ask him.
But still, he only stares back at me with his eyes wide, and I can see that he’s scared. I look at his blue T-shirt that has what looks like a puzzle on it. Instantly, I recognize it as the symbol for autism.
I sit down next to him. Far enough not to scare him, but close enough that I can grab him if he happens to fall into the water. “I’m Carrie,” I tell him.
It’s midweek and schools are in session, so I figure the boy is about nine or ten. He should be at school, but all I can figure is he’s wandered away.
“I’m going to take out my phone and call a friend, okay?” I explain to him as I look up the number really quickly for the Forest Grove Police Department before I hit the button to make the call.
“Hello. I’m Carrie Baker, and I’m sitting at Peach Park near the water. I’m here with a little boy that seems to be lost,” I say into the phone, smiling at the little boy the whole time, hoping to reassure him.
The dispatcher tells me to sit tight, that someone is on their way, so I hang up and put my phone back in my pocket.
Waiting for the police, I ask him again, “What’s your name? Do you want to see a boat?”
He looks out at the water, but there’s not a boat. Finally he looks back at me, nodding his head. “Chris,” he answers me.
“Chris. Well, today is your lucky day. I’m going to make a boat for you.”
I start folding the newspaper, and he watches me closely as I work. Fold after fold and tucking in the edges. As soon as I have something that resembles a boat, I set it in the water and give it a little shove, and we watch as it floats through the water.
Chris is so excited he claps his hands excitedly.
“Carrie.” I hear my name before I realize that anyone has joined us. Chris dives into my lap, and we both look up at the tall man in uniform.
“Hey, Scott.” Instinctively, I put my arms around Chris, and we both stand up. “Chris, this is my friend, Scott. He’s going to take you to your mother.”
I look up at Scott hopefully, and he’s nodding his head. “That’s right, buddy. You have quite a few people worried about you.”
Chris looks between Scott and me but doesn’t budge.
Scott is looking at me with praise in his eyes. “You’re a local hero now. The parents and school were in crisis mode looking for him.”
I don’t acknowledge his praise. I only did what anyone else would have done.
Chris tightens his hold on my hand, so I squat down at his eye level. “Scott is safe. He’s going to take care of you and not let anything happen to you. He’ll take you to your parents.”
Scott
The way she is with Chris is impressive. She’s firm but gentle, and without the counter at the bakery blocking most of her body from my view, I really appreciate how soft her curves are, and I love the way she smells so sweet. No wonder Chris is already so attached to her.
I want to ask her out, but I know the parents are worrying, and there isn’t time for that. Instead, I squat down next to Chris. “What do you say, buddy? Would you like to go see your momma?”
He stares at me for a second and then nods his head. “Yes.”
“Well, they are meeting us at the police station. Do you want to ride in the police car with me? We can even turn on the siren.”
He shakes his head emphatically, eyes wide and scared.
I hold my hands out to him, palms up. “It’s okay, buddy.”
“It’s just a little ways, Sheriff. Can you all walk to the station? I bet Chris likes being outside.” Carrie looks at me hopefully, and I agree instantly.
“Of course we can walk.” I stand up and hold my hand out to Chris. Almost reluctantly, he raises his hand and puts it into mine.
I give a silent thank you to Carrie over Chris’ head. She smiles at me reassuringly and I’m not lying. I could stand here all day and look at her. A moment passes between us and by the blush on her cheeks, I know she feels it too. But I can’t do anything about it now.
“Thank you… again,” I tell her.
She shrugs her shoulders as if what she’s done was not a big deal and then bids goodbye to Chris and me before walking back down the path toward town.
“Let’s go, buddy,” I tell Chris and pull him gently in the other direction. Chris is watching Carrie walk away, and I know he must have enjoyed spending time with her, no matter how brief it was.
Me too, kid. Heck, I just met her yesterday and already I want to spend more time with her.
Once we reach the police station, the parents and the school officials are standing outside, and Chris runs to his mother. She’s already crying, and her sobs get even louder as Chris runs into her arms. The dad gives him a pat on the back before turning toward the school officials angrily.
I can’t say I blame him. I would be mad too.
I get between them and go over the safety procedures with the teacher and the principal. They look completely wrecked, and I know it was an accident with one of the teacher aides being new, but things like this can’t happen. The outcome could have been so much worse.
Once all the commotion dies down, I go in the station and take a seat at my desk, still thinking about how I really wish I’d had the chance to ask out Carrie.
6
Carrie
The rest of the afternoon is boring compared to my lunch break. When I get home that evening, I sit down at the dinner table and see that Dad can barely stop smiling.
“You’re a hero, sweetie! It’s all over town how you saved that little boy.”
I scoop some green beans onto my plate and shrug my shoulders. “Really, Dad? Anyone would have done what I did. It wasn’t that big of a deal. I’m just glad Chris is all right.”
Dad just looks at me smugly. “Well, I’m so proud of you, honey.”
“Everyone is talking about it,” my mother chimes in happily. “We had just left our lunch at the bakery when I started getting calls about it.”
Obviously, this is the way to get on my mom’s good side. She’s just preening in her seat over there, excited about all the attention she’s getting. Me? I could care less. I hate having the attention on me.
Dinner turns out to be an easygoing affair, and it’s the first time I’m able to relax and let my guard down around my mother. We talk about her lunch today with her friends, and they of course want to hear the whole story of how I came across little Chris at Peach Park.
Wanting to change the subject, I ask them about my brother Bart. “How’s Bart doing? I haven’t talked to him in a few weeks.”
“He’s lead detective on some case, and we haven’t talked to him much lately,” my dad says.
“Well, at least he’s not doing undercover work anymore. The last time he came home he looked like some kind of homeless man,” my mother chimes in.
I want to remind her that the case he went undercover for also helped bring in ten missing children. Surely she can overlook the fact that he had to not shave and probably skip bathing to do his job. But by the way her nose is still scrunched up, I’m guessing not. At least I’m not the only one she picks on for keeping up appearances. The only difference is, Bart doesn’t care what people think. He’s always been that way. He does what he thinks is right and goes on about his business.
Man, I wish I was just a little bit like him. Instead, I’m always trying to please everyone.
I help clear the dishes from the table and go into the kitchen to help them clean up. “Go ahead, Dad. I can help Mom,” I tell him.
I can tell he’s surprised, probably because I always try to never be alone with Mom, but I know I have to try if I want to improve our relationship.
He gives me a brief hug before walking out.
Mom and I work silently, and it isn’t until we’re almost done that I realize no matter what I do, it’s never going to be good enough for my mom.
“With so much
attention you’re getting it would be great for finding a husband. If only you were a little thinner and of course still enrolled at the university so you’d have something to offer a man.”
Instead of arguing with her like I normally do, I stare back at her in shock. Did she really just say that?
I finish wiping down the counter and go to bed early with a soft “goodnight” to my mother.
Scott
I could barely sleep even though I am off today. I could be sleeping in, but I had every intention of getting to Patty Cakes Bakery early so I could talk to Carrie. I wanted to get here before the morning rush. It seems the best time to be able to talk to her.
But she seems down. She’s still smiling at me, but it barely reaches her eyes.
“Hey, Sheriff.”
I start to interrupt her, but she laughs a little and says, “I mean Scott. What can I get you?”
“Your coffee. Or my regular. Well, the coffee you made me yesterday.” I stumble through the words but finally get them out. I almost slap my hand to my forehead. Get it together, Scott.
She fixes my coffee and brings it to me with a small sliver of what looks like pie. She sets the plate and up in front of me. “You don’t have to eat it, but you sort of challenged me. I’m trying out some recipes. If you want to try a bite and just let me know what you think.”
She’s smiling the whole time, and there’s no way I’m going to turn her down. I take a bite of the dish, and it does taste good. “It’s good,” I tell her.
She purses her lips together. “Good? Okay. I’ll work on it.”
I take another bite, hating that I’ve upset her. “No, it’s good. Really good.”
She reaches out to touch me but then pulls back. “No, your first reaction is always the right one. It’s okay,” she says, waving her hand in front of me. “I’m going to find something that you would like to eat in the mornings. You can’t skip breakfast, not with the job you do. So tell me, what do you like to eat normally?”
