Chapter Seven
“How did it go at the clinic?” Nate stood at Flynn’s open passenger door.
It was after lunch. Nate was expecting Julie and Duke any moment. He felt jittery, like he’d had too much caffeine. He blamed it on the Daddy Test and his expectation that he wouldn’t pass. Or his ambivalence about wanting to pass.
“How did it go at the clinic?” Flynn looked weary, gesturing toward Rutgar. “I’ll give you one guess.”
“Doctors. What do they know?” The large, bearded man sat in the passenger seat, his red cupcake pillow behind his back. His right ankle was taped and swollen. One oversized hand covered both eyes. “I want to go home.”
Flynn shook his head. “The doctor said Rutgar has a mild concussion and a slightly sprained ankle.” His reddish-brown hair stood on end above his forehead. “Rutgar needs darkness and twenty-four-hour observation. Unfortunately, he refused to stay in the hospital. And Ian’s been colicky since I left. If I take Rutgar home with me, the old man won’t get any rest.”
“If you were thinking of leaving the old man with me, it won’t be quiet for an hour or so.” Nate glanced up and down the street. “I’m expecting someone.”
“The old man will walk home, thank you very much, no matter where you put me.” Rutgar’s voice rose to a roar.
Flynn leaned over the steering wheel to make eye contact with Nate. “We could get him a room at Leona’s at the Lambridge Bamp;B.”
“Leona?” Rutgar howled. “I’d rather go back to the hospital.”
“Sadly...” Nate felt a smile work its way up one cheek. “I don’t think anyone has time to take you there.”
“What kind of men are you?” Rutgar’s voice rumbled through the air like a train on a straight stretch of track.
“The worst kind. The kind who cares.” Nate smiled. Most people in Harmony Valley were good sports and Nate enjoyed interacting with them. “I suppose he can hibernate in a cell. No one stays long.” Julie would probably administer the test and bolt. “If you’re good, Rutgar, you’ll get ice cream later.”
“The jail is the right place to put me?” Rutgar tried to glare through his fingers, but almost immediately shut his eyes tight. “Rock-hard cots. Drafty cells. Bad food.”
Flynn grinned. “Why do I get the feeling he’s been in jail before?”
A breeze tickled the new leaves on the trees flanking Nate’s office as if they, too, were enjoying a laugh at Rutgar’s expense.
“I tell you what.” Nate took pity on the big man. “You stay in jail for observation, and I won’t make you wear an orange jumpsuit. I’ll get you coffee and scones in the morning from Martin’s Bakery.” This might be a blessing in disguise. If Terrance got lonely tonight, he’d have to share the cell with Rutgar.
“Everybody wants to be a comedian.” But Rutgar shifted in his seat, turning his knees toward Nate. “Lead me to this paradise of which you speak so highly.”
A door opened at the business next to the sheriff’s office.
“Need any help?” Shelby backed a stroller out of the winery’s barrel storage facility. In the fall after harvest, the entire street smelled like red wine. This being spring, the air was lightly peppered with the smell of green vegetation.
Little Mae watched them with sleepy eyes from her stroller, blond hair a tangle.
“Can you prop open the door to my office, Shelby?” Nate guided Rutgar’s feet toward the wide running board. “And then the door to the jail cell. This big guy has a concussion and needs a night of monitoring.”
Shelby hurried to fulfill his request, speed walking with the stroller.
“The horror.” Rutgar made a growling noise. “A man of my age reduced to a night in the slammer.”
“Be reasonable, Rutgar.” Flynn’s tone was strained. “My wife has been alone with a crying newborn since breakfast. Let’s not overdramatize. I need to get home.”
“Everybody, take a breath.” Nate encouraged Rutgar to extend his good foot another few inches. “It is what it is. Lower your feet just a little more, Rutgar.”
Squinting, Rutgar tried to look down. He groaned. “I’m gonna be sick.”
“Close your eyes. Breathe.” Nate held the old man in place. “Think of the clean taste of apple. A cool drink of water.”
Flynn came around to stand next to Nate. They each took one of Rutgar’s arms.
“How can I think of an apple when you told me about ice cream?” Rutgar scooted another inch toward the edge of his seat. “I hope you have chocolate syrup.”
“Ginger ale is better for upset tummies.” Shelby opened Nate’s front door and propped it open. “I’m going to pull down the blinds, so it’ll be dark in here.”
“Good idea.” Nate talked Rutgar through getting his good foot to the ground. “This is where a squad car would come in handy.” Lower to the ground. “Or a stretcher. You’re going to have to lean on us to get inside.” The crutches he’d caught sight of in Flynn’s truck bed weren’t an option if Rutgar couldn’t open his eyes.
“A wheelchair would do,” Flynn said.
“Wheelchair? I’m going to put your ugly mugs on my cans at my shooting range,” Rutgar slid slowly to the ground.
“That’s the thanks I get for taking you to the doctor,” Flynn teased.
“That’s the thanks I get for taking you into my home.” Nate did the same.
Nate and Flynn managed to draw Rutgar’s long arms over their shoulders. Somehow, they managed to stay upright and take small steps forward. They passed through the doorway inching past the counter and the swinging half door that separated the jail from visitors. They guided Rutgar past Nate’s desk, into the jail cell and to bed. Once he was seated, Nate lifted the old man’s legs onto the cot.
“Ooh. Made it.” Rutgar sounded better now that he was lying down.
Shelby covered him with a blanket she’d found folded on the nearby bench. “I better go,” she whispered, pointing to little Mae, who’d fallen asleep in her stroller.
“My pillow,” Rutgar said in near panicky tones. “Where is it? It helps my back.”
“I’ll get it,” Flynn said, following Shelby out.
Doris appeared in the open doorway, her short hair sticking straight up, her voice a shrill shout. “Why are the shades drawn? I can’t see inside. What’s happening here? I’m a taxpayer and I deserve to know.”
“That voice is torture.” Rutgar covered his ears. “Shut up.”
Doris huffed but didn’t leave.
Nate came to stand behind the counter, putting him in the position of authority. “Rutgar’s got a concussion. He needs darkness and quiet. He doesn’t have anyone to monitor his condition, so Flynn brought him here.” That’s right. Nate was throwing Flynn under the bus.
“Turn off the light.” Rutgar moaned, totally overplaying it, which Nate appreciated.
“What if you need the jail cell?” Doris was nothing if not persistent. She carried a purse big enough to fit the head of any adversary she defeated. It was tan and had a Chihuahua appliquéd on it.
“I need the jail cell for Rutgar,” Nate said evenly, struck by the sudden impression that Doris was a worst-case scenario thinker. Was it a mean streak that drove her to try and control her environment? Anxiety? He didn’t know.
Flynn—the coward—hovered on the safety of the sidewalk, checking his phone.
“This isn’t a hotel.” Doris’s entire body trembled as she drew herself up. “What if you need that cell for a criminal?”
Nate could only think of one person in Harmony Valley he wanted to throw in jail. She was short and loved little dogs. He slid his glance away from her and chose his words carefully. “I’ve only arrested one person in town in the three years I’ve been here.”
“My point exactly.” Doris slung her dog purse higher on her shoulder. “The people’s tax dollars haven’t been put to good use.”
“Or we haven’t had any criminals in town,” Nate felt compelled to add.
She harrumphed. “A likely story. You probably let them off with warnings.”
“The doctor prescribed peace and quiet,” Rutgar rumbled from his cot. “I’ll gladly commit a crime if that will make Doris leave.”
She’d been pushed too far. Doris narrowed her eyes and took a small step forward. “Mark my words. You’re going down, sheriff.”
Nate cleared his throat. “Just to be clear, because threatening an officer of the law is classified as a criminal threat, are you speaking metaphorically or physically?”
Doris drew back, puffing out her chest as if that made her more intimidating. “Polish your résumé. You’re going to need it.” She stomped out the door, giving Flynn a wide berth on her way out.
“Do women make a habit of threatening you?” Rutgar asked in a subdued voice. “If so, I need to hang out here more often.”
Nate’s inclination was to say no, but Julie might prove otherwise. “Why do you ask?”
“I like strong women and I might want to date one.” He blew out a breath. “Just not that one.”
Julie wasn’t dreaming of anything.
The nothingness was blissful.
And then there was a knock on the door.
“Miss Smith.” Leona’s cold voice. She sounded like she was in the room.
“Shhh.” Julie sat up groggily, squinting against the bright afternoon sunlight coming through the window. “The baby’s sleeping.”
The baby wasn’t sleeping. Leona stood in the doorway holding Duke’s hand.
When Duke saw Julie was awake, he bolted free, ran to the bed and extended his arms out to her.
She lifted him into her lap.
He hid his face against her good shoulder with a fearful, if guilty, “Juju.”
Regardless of who was at fault, mama bear came out of hibernation with a scowl. “What happened?”
Leona stared down her nose at Julie. And boy, if looks could kill, Julie might not have survived another bullet. “Your child was in my kitchen.”
“Oh.” She’d slept through Duke leaving the room? Julie was the worst caregiver ever. Still, she managed to muster a weak retort. “That wouldn’t be a problem if there was a lock on my door.”
“He was looking in my refrigerator.” From the disapproving frown on Leona’s face, she might just as well have said he’d been looking under her skirt.
“I’m sorry,” Julie said because the situation seemed to require it. Who knew Leona would be so proprietary about her fridge?
“What if the boy ate something and was allergic? What if he climbed into the refrigerator and suffocated?” Leona’s agitation was palpable. Where normally she stood still, her hands shook and rolled and crested midair. “What if...” She left her question unanswered.
“I bad,” Duke said miserably.
Duke’s admission seemed to calm the older woman. Her sharp features resumed their normal position cold disdain. “Yes, you were bad.”
“I sorry.” He buried his head in Julie’s good shoulder.
“He won’t wander again.” How easily reassurances slipped through Julie’s lips. Duke was an explorer by nature. Just last week he’d used her kitchen cupboards as a jungle gym while she was in the shower.
Given her raised eyebrows, Leona didn’t believe Julie. But she didn’t argue. The old battle ax closed the door with a near-silent click.
Duke shimmied off her lap and Julie fell back on the bed.
“Not good, little man,” she said.
The rascal scooted to the edge of the mattress, turned on his stomach and slipped to the floor. “Want go, Juju.”
“Okay. We’ll go see Nate.” And administer phase one of the Daddy Test.
The Daddy Test. April had been adamant that Julie administer it, not their mother.
“This is important,” April had said, eyes closed as she lay in bed looking nothing like the April who’d glowed after Nate proposed to her. Where she’d once been optimistic, now there was a desperate air about her. “It has to be you. Face-to-face. Nate will be honest with you.”
Julie doubted that. April’s questions were unorthodox and personal. Nate was the most impersonal man she knew.
And yet, he’d surprised her with his treatment of Duke. He may not have embraced fatherhood, but he hadn’t rejected Duke outright. He was warm and kind to him, which wasn’t helpful when it came to keeping Julie’s hatred of Nate alive. Here in Harmony Valley, he was the quiet, sensitive Nate, the man she’d called friend at the academy.
They’d tackled the obstacle course on the same day. With her shorter legs, Julie had been struggling to pass under the time limit.
“You gonna do this thing?” Nate had looked down at her with that half smile of his and a challenge in his eyes.
“You’d like to see me fail, wouldn’t you?” That was Julie’s MO. If she put everyone in the column against her, she didn’t let anyone get close enough to make her weak.
“Nope. I’d like to see you beat me.” He gave her a tight grin. “Or at least go down trying.”
The instructor had called them to the starting line.
“Why would you want to see me succeed?” She crouched at the starting line, unable to hide her curiosity when she should have been clearing her head.
“Because you can take what people here dish out, which means you’d take it on the streets, too. And give back in good measure.”
She might not have believed Nate if she hadn’t noted the warmth and respect in his gaze.
In the here and now, Julie removed her sweatshirt and Duke’s. The spring day looked warm enough for short sleeves and the beginnings of a tan. Easy going weather.
Forgive, April’s voice said.
Julie didn’t want to hear it.
“Petty you.” Duke stood at the door with his fingers opening and closing as if waiting for her hand to clasp his.
They walked downstairs. In no time, they were outside. Duke in his stroller. Julie pushing. But her thoughts weren’t on sunshine and flowers. She felt more petty than pretty. She’d felt that way since she’d woken up in the hospital almost a week ago.
When Julie woke up after surgery, Mom had been holding Julie’s cold hand, Duke asleep in her lap. “You could have died. You still look like you could.” A tear slid down Mom’s cheek. It looked to have been one of many tears. “The three of us. That’s all we’ve got left of this family.”
Sobering thought, that.
“SWAT, Julie? You transferred to SWAT?” Mom’s voice had cracked. “Does Duke mean so little to you that you’d choose the unit with the highest risk? Do I mean so little to you?”
“No.” Such a small word. Yet it held a ton of guilt.
Julie hadn’t told her mother that she’d applied for the assignment. She’d wanted to push past another hurdle. And when she’d tried to explain her choices that day in the hospital room—her throat raw from the breathing tube they’d removed, and raw from the emotion of making her mother cry—Julie had been unable to defend her selfish choice.
“When are you going to tell Nate about his son?” Mom had wiped her eyes with a crumpled tissue, only to have more spill over her cheeks. “With our luck, I’ll drop dead from a heart attack, you’ll get hit by a bus, and it’ll take months for them to link Duke to Nate. We can’t do that to him.”
Still unable to speak, Julie had shaken her head. She didn’t feel strong enough to face Nate.
“It’s time,” her mother had said. “As soon as you recover. Promise me.”
Eventually, she had.
The hospital had released Julie four days after the shooting. Not one to procrastinate once she’d made up her mind, she went home and packed a bag for Harmony Valley. She’d taken the custody papers April had had her draft months ago out of the fire safe and stared at them. She didn’t want to let Nate back into her life, but she knew he wasn’t the type of man to deal with a lawyer. He’d want to be told in person.
Julie stopped outside the sheriff’s office, not ready to face Nate.
The shades were drawn over the plate glass window as if it was a business closed for the day. Julie tried the door and was surprised to find it open.
“Must be my day for visitors.” Nate sat at his desk, which was behind the counter separating the office from the jail cell. He’d shed the sleeveless jacket. His gaze was friendly. His attitude relaxed.
Julie felt warm. Not uncomfortably warm as she had earlier when they’d been together, but cozy warm, welcome warm.
Must be the fact that we’re standing in familiar territory—jail.
“Nay!” Duke burst out of the stroller the moment his belt was unbuckled, running for Nate, who held the swinging half door that separated the lobby from the jail proper open for him.
“Who is it this time?” a voice boomed from the cell, although the door stood wide open.
“It’s Julie and my son, Duke.”
Duke gasped, slowing down, turning toward the jail cell. “Who dat?” He stopped at the corner of the counter, pointing at the jail cell bars. “What dat?”
“Bars.” Nate stood, looking strong and rested, every black hair in place. He walked to the cell bars and grabbed hold of one. “You can touch it.”
Duke ran the last few feet to the bars, tentatively stretching out his hand without making contact. “Tree?”
“No. It’s a bar. A bar made of steel, not wood. Not trees.”
Nate’s kindness for Julie’s most precious person touched her.
Duke ran a finger over several black bars. “Bar. Bar. Bar.”
“And that’s Rutgar.” Nate pointed to the large man on the cot. “He fell down and hurt himself.”
“He fell down?” Julie leaned on the counter, trying to act casual. “Is that against the law in this town, too?”
“Yep.” Nate’s gaze bounced briefly from Duke to her before returning to Duke.
In that moment when their eyes met—between one breath and the next—the feeling of welcome expanded in Julie’s chest to a feeling of belonging. Of belonging here. With Nate.
She rejected the feeling, of course. She didn’t belong with Nate or to this town. But the feeling hung on, like the persistent taste of black coffee, lingering on her tongue.
Duke shook the bars with both hands, and then tried to squeeze his body between them.
Nate gently drew him back. “One thing you never want to do is break into prison.”
“Because you’ll never get out,” Rutgar said good naturedly. The man was large, both in length and in girth. He barely fit on the cot. He had one leg propped on a small red pillow and a red handkerchief draped over his eyes. His long gray-blond locks spilled over his shoulder and his gray-blond beard held up one end of the handkerchief. “Come here, boy. What was his name? Duke? As in Marmaduke? Strange name for a boy.”
“He’s named after John Wayne,” Nate surprised Julie by saying. “His mother and I used to enjoy watching the Duke’s Western movies.” His voice grew as soft as his memory might have been, as tender as Julie’s memories of watching those same films with her father. “April appreciated an honorable man willing to give his life for what was right.”
Julie’s throat strained to close. Nate had left April. He shouldn’t have known why April had named her son Duke. He shouldn’t talk about honor as if he had some.
Duke entered the cell cautiously. He patted Rutgar’s shoulder. “Hi.”
“You’ve got some big britches to live up to,” Rutgar said, his voice as dry as a desert plain. “Wouldn’t catch the Duke stealing a girl’s lunch money at school.”
“You might catch him stealing a kiss though. The ladies love him.” There was laughter in Nate’s dark brown eyes and a tease at the corner of his mouth. He returned to his chair behind the desk, leaving Duke with Rutgar. “How do you like Harmony Valley’s hub of law enforcement, Jules?”
“It makes me want to nap.” Of course, breathing made Julie want to nap since she’d been shot. She glanced around, taking in the picture on the wall of their class at the academy, keys hanging on a hook to the right of the desk and an empty gun case on the back wall. “What? No weapons?”
“Not anymore.” He patted his chest in different places. Only those who’d been in law enforcement would know he was telling her he didn’t carry concealed in any hidden shirt pockets. “I don’t need a gun in Harmony Valley to keep the peace. I’ve got my Taser in my glove box, but I’ve never used it.”
Julie was envious of his ability to keep the bad guys at bay with nothing more than a bolt of electricity. She used to be so proud of her marksmanship. She used to feel comforted carrying a weapon.
“I’m ready for your Daddy Test.” Nate indicated Julie sit in a boxy office chair across from him. His desk was tidy. A laptop, a blotter with scribbled notes in black ink, a phone charger, a small lamp and a small wooden bowl filled with smooth stones.
She hadn’t expected her plan to veer this far off course—to her actually administering April’s Daddy Test. Her heart pounded.
She grabbed her backpack, sat and pulled out April’s small notebook. But then Julie paused. The last time the notebook had been opened, April had done it. With her thin hands and her shaky penmanship.
Oh, April.
Loss speared through her.
“Is there a problem?” Nate asked.
“No.” Julie packed her grief away and spread the notebook in her lap. “There are a few questions in this section.”
“There are sections?” Nate sat back in his chair, stoic yet alert. Everything the Academy taught them to be when interrogating subjects.
She’d be doing the interrogation today.
Anger worked its way beneath the thin layer of her composure. Anger that he’d put her in this position. Anger that she’d been unable to crack his veneer significantly. She embraced the anger and let it bleed through her words. “Yes, there are sections. And the questions… They’re more like essay questions than multiple choice.”
He frowned. “This test was designed by April? I have to write a paper?”
“Yes and no. April wrote the test in this notebook. But she wanted this to be an oral exam” Julie flipped the page to the first section, suppressing a pang of grief at seeing April’s looping handwriting, those i’s she dotted with hearts. “Here’s the first question. A good father is honest. Honest about his feelings, about the world and about how to be a good man. My father knew that honesty was a double-edged sword. Give two examples of honesty in your life—one you experienced with your dad, and one you experienced with someone you loved.”
“What?” Nate’s expression was no longer stoic. His features hardened like the granite face of Parish Hill.
She hadn’t seen him like this since…since their first domestic violence call all those years ago.
“You’re grading me, Jules?” And his words… Nate’s words dropped to a place filled with darkness and danger. “You’re grading me on answers to questions like that?”
“You don’t have to answer anything.” Julie’s heart continued its pounding, but it felt more like an urgent, repetitive warning—Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!
“You’re asking me about my past.” Nate’s jaw set in rejection mode. “Are you asking these questions for yourself or for April?”
“I’m asking for Duke. And for April. It was one of her last wishes.” Julie turned the notebook pages toward him so that he could see April’s handwriting.
“But April isn’t here to listen to my answers.” His tone was as hard as his expression.
A wall seemed to go up between them. There would be no compromise, no Daddy Test, no lengthy stays in Harmony Valley.
Julie’s heart pounded in a different gear—slower, more certain. Nate was going to veto the process. She was that much closer to having Duke all to herself. She’d choose someone from the force to be his guardian, just in case Mom’s worst fears came true. “You don’t have to answer anything for either one of us.” Julie closed the notebook and tucked it into her backpack’s zippered pocket. She withdrew a sheaf of papers from another compartment. “We can stop this test right here. Right now. By you signing over custody of Duke to me.”