Chapter Sixteen
Julie pushed Duke’s stroller out of the sheriff’s office. “You can’t just go dark on me when I want to talk about custody.”
“I can.” Nate set a brisk pace toward the corner.
“Go, Juju.” After that brief command, Duke slurped on the milk in his sippy cup.
Julie obeyed, happy to find she’d regained some of her stamina. She kept up with Nate.
The morning was clear and bright. Gentle breeze, gentle birdsong, gentle clouds in the sky. All that gentleness couldn’t make up for Nate’s father abusing him and his mother abandoning him. But Julie could.
Julie wanted to make things right for Nate. And the only way she knew how to help him was to show him how enriching raising a child was.
“We’re going to parent Duke together.” She didn’t phrase it as a question, because she didn’t want to hear his answer. If they co-parented, she could be Nate’s emotional rock, a place he could seek shelter when his memories became too much for him. “You don’t have to be afraid you’ll be like your father. You’re nothing like that man.”
Nate was two strides ahead of her.
“Did you hear me?” She had to work to keep annoyance from her voice, if only for Duke’s sake.
Nate didn’t answer.
“Truck,” Duke said, pointing back to Nate’s vehicle. He swiveled his arm to a new target. “Tree.”
“That’s right, little man.” At her lowest moment, she’d wanted to drop out of the sheriff’s race, but not now. Not when Nate was acting so foolishly. She’d stick with it for the week she’d promised to be here and make him see what she did—that he could be a good father.
If only he’d stop walking away from her.
“I’m learning to live with the fact that April deserved better than you could give her. And I’m beginning to understand how you think you don’t know how to love someone deeply, including your own child.” Julie picked up the pace when Nate did, ignoring how each deep breath strained her stitches. “But loving Duke is easy. And you’re good at it.” Anyone could see he cared for Duke.
It was like someone was propping Nate up, pushing him away from her. He walked so tall, he seemed to have added an inch to his height.
A blond man jogged past them with a woman riding a bike beside him.
“Morning, Nate,” the man said, nodding to Julie.
Nate grunted.
Nate was as tangled and tied up as the strand of holiday lights in Julie’s crawl space.
“Listen, Einstein.” Julie was getting annoyed now. “Love may be risky, but not with Duke. You’ll have years to build a foundation of love and respect before he becomes a teenager and tests both of us.”
“Cork it, Jules. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nate looked over his shoulder, catching her reflection in the glass of an empty store window. The warmth she’d seen in his eyes just this morning was missing. He looked trapped and panicky. “I’m not going to parent Duke with you.”
A brick facade broke the connection.
Julie nearly stumbled on an uneven crack in the sidewalk. “Not with me?” She almost couldn’t say the words. He didn’t want to parent with her. Rejection clamped around her throat and gave it a good squeeze.
“No. I won’t parent with you.”
“Is it because of the election?” Because she’d selfishly agreed to run?
“No!” The street was empty and that one word ping-ponged off the buildings.
Duke stopped drinking milk and made a disapproving noise.
“Is it because Duke reminds you of April?” Because he’d been able to walk away from her sister.
“No.” Nate’s response this time was more contained, as if he, too, realized that he had to be civil to avoid upsetting Duke. He rounded the corner.
Julie was hot on his heels when all she wanted to do was drag hers. She was running out of reasons Nate didn’t want to talk and out of gas. “Is it because of me?”
Nate stopped in the middle of the alley and turned. “No.” But he couldn’t quite meet her gaze and he headed for El Rosal, determined to get there in record time.
They reached the back of the restaurant and approached the outdoor dining patio corner that opened to the town square.
“Tree,” Duke said gleefully, pointing at the lone oak.
“It is because of me,” Julie said, unable to praise Duke in her sudden misery. “Because of the things I said when I first came here, because I haven’t fully recovered, and I’m your competition.”
Nate’s shoulders bunched.
Julie swallowed back every lecture Dad had ever given about not being a quitter. “I’ll drop out of the race if you want me to, just...just don’t send us away. Duke needs you.” But she had a feeling that Nate needed Duke more.
Nate stopped, turning slowly. He closed the distance between them, which wasn’t much, and came to stand in front of the stroller.
“Nay.” Duke raised his head and grinned at them in turn. “Juju.”
Julie mustered a smile. “Even a toddler knows we should do this together.”
Nate stared at his son and said nothing.
But Julie knew what Nate was going to say. He was going to reject them the way he’d rejected April. His parents had stripped him of his self-worth, of his ability to trust in love. “Don’t say it.” Don’t say he couldn’t do joint custody with her. Because if he did, then he’d have no qualms saying he didn’t want to help raise Duke period. And then she’d have to...
She had no idea what she’d have to do. But she’d have to do something.
Nate raised his gaze slowly to Julie’s.
Oh, my word. This man.
She ached to be his person.
Time slowed. Julie breathed in. She breathed out. She sent up a silent prayer to April. She willed Duke to keep grinning and look adorable. She sucked in her gut, squared her shoulders and—
“It is because of you,” Nate said, deflating Julie’s hopes.
“But...” Her voice sounded very small. “We used to get along.”
Nate blew out a deep breath. “A week from now, I’m still going to be the sheriff. You’ll go back to Sacramento and pass your psych eval.”
Her head rotated from side to side. “And Duke?”
Nate stared down at his child once more, his detached expression softening.
Julie needed to give Nate time so he could think before he blew his chance at a good thing. But she had no idea what to say.
“Julie! Come to the bakery.” Doris waved from down the block. She wore a pair of worn blue jeans, a sweatshirt with Chihuahuas prancing through a poppy patch and a scowl for Nate.
Julie had never been happier to see Doris in her life.
“We’ve got flyers for your campaign,” Doris sing-songed, plucking at her spiky, short hair.
“Flyers?” Julie sing-songed back, pushing the stroller past Nate.
“Nate! Nate!” Rutgar waved him over from a table on El Rosal’s patio. He sat with Terrance and several elderly gentlemen, including the mayor. “We’ve got some slogans for you.”
“Slogans?” Nate said mulishly, trudging behind Julie.
“We’ll continue this conversation tonight,” Julie promised, wheeling Duke past El Rosal with the speed of a woman grateful to have dodged an argument.
“Ba-con?” Duke said, craning his neck to look as they passed the fenced dining area.
“Not today, little man.”
Main Street was the primary thoroughfare through town. Cars drove past. All the parking spaces were nearly full. People hustled in and out of El Rosal and the bakery.
“I wanted to talk to you alone.” Doris met Julie halfway down the sidewalk. “Without the rest of the campaign committee.”
“Go for it.” Nothing Doris said could be as heavy as what she’d heard this morning from Nate.
“It’s about me.” Doris slowed to a crawl. “I used to work at the school cafeteria in town. Thirty-five years. That cafeteria was my kingdom.”
Julie could easily imagine how Doris had wielded her command.
“And then the mill exploded.” Doris downshifted to a pace slower than a reluctant bride. “Businesses shut down. The school shut down. And the closest place I could find a position was hours away at a school in Dixon.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. Work changes can be upsetting.” Wasn’t that an understatement?
Doris put a hand on the stroller, bringing it and Julie to a halt.
“Hey,” Duke said, a pout in his voice. He pushed Doris’s hand away. “Go, Juju.”
“Just a minute, little man.” Julie patted his head. “If you’re good, Tracy has cake pops and hot chocolate.”
“Pop. Pop. Pop.” Duke bounced in his seat, momentarily placated.
“It wasn’t the same in Dixon,” Doris continued. “They did things their way.”
And Doris had been unhappy.
Julie nodded.
“When I retired from the school system and returned home, Sheriff Landry had a new way of doing things. No one used to care that I left my bass boat on the street. And I used to have neighbors in their eighties. They couldn’t hear if my dogs barked.”
“What you’re saying is—” Julie felt a crease form in her brow “—you want a sheriff who’ll look the other way.”
Doris nodded, smiling the smile of a woman expecting great things. “One who’ll look at things the way Sheriff Borelli used to.”
“That won’t be me.” Julie pushed the stroller forward at speed.
Doris trotted beside her. “But if you win, it’ll be because of me. I got you in the race. I deserve preferential treatment.”
“If I win—” and that seemed like a long shot “—I’m more of a stickler for the law than Nate.”
Doris hurried ahead and opened the bakery door for Julie. “But—”
“No buts. I would’ve towed your boat to impound by now. And if I was sheriff, I would give out tickets every time I pulled someone over.” Julie paused in the doorway. “And no one in my town is going to carry concealed without a permit, including you.”
For the first time since they’d met, Doris was speechless.
“I became a cop because life should be fair for everyone. No matter their race, their culture or how difficult their past.” Julie slanted her head and hit Doris with a hard glance, one that said she’d read between the lines when Terrance had given her a set down in the bakery the other day. “Think about someone other than yourself for once. This election should be about the bigger picture for Harmony Valley, not how life here can be easier for you.”
Julie’s words rang with truth. She was afraid it was a truth she needed to look at about herself.
Nate watched Julie give Doris what looked like a dressing down and leave the woman dumbstruck on the sidewalk.
Why hadn’t Julie tossed him to the curb? He’d confessed he had no qualms about the decisions he’d had to make on the job, while she couldn’t sleep at night for doing the same. He’d confessed he’d drawn a weapon on his father. Julie should have been doing the math, adding up his deficits and coming up with an answer: he wasn’t father material.
Typical Julie. She’d figured Nate needed a champion, and had taken the role upon herself, along with the assumption that she was the unacceptable part of a parenting bargain to Nate, not parenting itself.
Nate pulled up a chair next to Rutgar, letting his supporters’ excitement about slogans flow over him and glide past.
“Let’s get down to business,” Rutgar interrupted Nate’s thoughts. His gray-blond bushy brows were jumping in excitement. His cane hung off the back of his chair. “Here’s my slogan. Vote for Nate. He does good things.”
Nate didn’t know what to say. Rutgar’s slogan was a stinker.
“How about this?” Phil Lambridge’s tremulous hands moved more than an orchestra conductor’s during a concert. Leona’s ex-husband was no longer allowed to cut hair at the barbershop-turned-salon, but he was booked six weeks out with color and highlight appointments. “Vote for Nate. He’s good enough for me.”
Nate raised his gaze skyward. Phil’s slogan wasn’t much better than Rutgar’s.
“Mine’s the winner.” When the mayor wasn’t being neutral, he was nearly as competitive as Julie. He and his buddies were regular contenders in their bowling league in Cloverdale. He tossed his slim gray ponytail over his shoulder and read, “‘Vote for Nate. Coooool, man.’” The mayor grinned.
Everyone at the table groaned.
Nate ruled the mayor out. “Although I appreciate the enthusiasm, we don’t have time for T-shirts, signs or slogans.”
“Glass half empty,” Rutgar muttered. “That’s no way to win a campaign.”
Arturo placed a coffee cup in front of Nate and tilted his head, the unspoken question being breakfast. Nate shook his head, but he did consider asking the waiter to spike his coffee.
“Mine makes the most sense.” Terrance sported a grin the likes of which Nate hadn’t seen on him since before Robin had died. “The headline will say I’m Running for Sheriff.” He slapped the notepad in front of him and sat back. “And then we’ll have a picture of Nate jogging. Brilliant, right?”
The assembled gave it a thumbs-down.
“Why don’t you just say A Vote for Nate Is a Vote for Men?” Nate muttered. That’s what the election was turning into.
“Brilliant.” Phil tossed his hands in the air. “Slogan solved in time for a game of checkers at the bakery.” He slumped back in his chair. “Shoot. Doris made Tracy put the checkerboard away.”
Rutgar glanced down the street toward the bakery. “And the women banned us from Martin’s.”
Nate was dumbfounded. Checkers matches had been an institution at Martin’s Bakery since it reopened over a year ago. “This is going too far.”
“It’s the sign of things to come if you don’t win,” Terrance warned. “Now, pick a slogan.”
“I don’t want a slogan.” Nate wanted life to go back to the way it was before Doris had shown up in town. He liked slow and predictable. He enjoyed watching out for people he knew by name.
But if he turned back the clock that far, he wouldn’t have met his son or reconnected with Julie. He wouldn’t have helped ease Julie’s torment over the shooting. He wouldn’t have held her hand or learned the feel of his son in his arms. Those were memories he’d keep forever.
“You need a slogan,” Rutgar insisted. “The ladies have a slogan and a flyer. They’re way ahead of us.”
“Let them pass out paper.” Mayor Larry had that competitive gleam in his eye again. “We need to think about tonight.”
“The pull-over simulation.” Terrance nodded, evidently on the same page as the mayor. Each candidate was picking someone in town for their opponent to role-play a traffic stop. “Who are we going to pick for Julie?”
“Oh, ho, ho.” Rutgar cracked his knuckles.
“Play nice, fellas.” Nate had never realized how conniving the men in town were until this election.
“Nice?” Mayor Larry crossed his arms over his chest. “If we play nice, we choose Mildred or Agnes. And we lose.”
“Where’s the fun in losing?” Rutgar demanded, finger-combing his beard. “What about me? I can give Julie a run for her money.”
“No.” Nate scowled at the big man. “We play fair.”
“Let’s choose Prescott.” Phil stood, swaying like Prescott, who was a happy drunk.
Nate steadied Phil with one hand. “Prescott is an extreme case. Remember, Julie’s a rookie when it comes to Harmony Valley.”
“She’s SWAT.” Rutgar had a hard-core competitive streak that spoke to a similar vein inside Nate. “Julie is as experienced as they come.”
“Remember,” Terrance said. “This is a war Doris started, not Julie. We’re competing against Doris.”
“Doris won’t be up there with Prescott.” Choosing the town’s friendly drunk was the equivalent of stacking the deck in Nate’s favor.
But Nate didn’t overrule them.
The flyers had yet to be seen.
Julie sat at the table in a bakery with her campaign volunteers. There were fewer today with only a handful at the main table where Doris held court. The ladies chattered about life and grandkids. They were sweet women, really. And Julie felt guilty because she’d decided out there on the sidewalk—with Nate looking bottled up, distant and hurting—that she was only staying in the race because it meant she and Duke could stay in town with him. She wasn’t going to try to win.
But she wasn’t going to throw the race either. She had her pride, just like Doris had hers.
Eunice had crayons and coloring books out today, which wasn’t cutting it with the two toddlers. Gregory pushed Duke around the bakery in the stroller. The boys kept stopping by the bakery counter to place pretend orders with Tracy. Or they would have been pretended if Tracy didn’t keep giving them miniature chocolate chip cookies.
A woman named Georgia sat to Julie’s right. She had thin black hair cut in a bob and a broad forehead that was broken by a sharp widow’s peak. “Can we start, Doris?”
“We’re waiting for Lilac,” Doris said with little grace.
The bakery door flung open, and Lilac made her entrance.
“I’m here, I’m here. I hope you didn’t start without me.” Lilac slid into a seat and unwound the maroon paisley scarf from around her neck. “I’m having a bad hair day. Darn humidity.” She peered at her reflection in the bakery display case, finger-combing her sophisticated, out-of-fashion curls.
“Show me your flyers, ladies.” Doris wasn’t one to hide her anger well. She trembled with it from her fingers to her short spiky hair. She trembled so much the other women at the table had subtly moved their chairs away from her.
Julie put her elbows on the table and studied Doris the way she would a suspected felon. “I thought you had a flyer.”
“Not yet.” There came the dog breeder’s familiar superior smile. “I wanted the men to think we had a flyer.”
“Isn’t Doris clever?” Lilac dug in her designer handbag. She unfolded a large sheet and handed it to Julie. “I made this last night.”
Lilac’s flyer was a page from a craft scrapbook. Julie recognized the paper type because April had been a scrapbooker. The letters Lilac used were peel and press and, although similar in color and size, were reminiscent of ransom notes made by clipping newspapers and magazines because they weren’t placed straight.
“‘A Vote for Julie Is a Vote for Women.’” Julie read, trying very hard to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “‘A Vote for Women Is a Vote for Peace. A Vote for Peace Is a Vote for a Better World.’” She had to give Lilac a smile because it was a nice sentiment. Sexist, but nice.
“I like mine better.” Georgia held up a lined sheet of notebook paper. “Vote for Julie! Only Eliot Ness Could Do a Better Job, but It’s Not the 1930s and He’s Dead.” She leaned closer to Julie to whisper, “You do know who Eliot Ness is, don’t you?”
“Are you kidding?” Julie’s smile came much easier. At least Georgia had some originality. “You thought I wouldn’t know The Untouchables?” The movie had been required viewing by her dad, along with every John Wayne film ever made.
“You just earned my vote all over again.” Georgia patted her arm.
“Those are both too soft.” Doris crushed a paper napkin in her palm. “We need something with strength and power.”
“We need something to get the men to vote for Julie.” Georgia waved her paper in the vicinity of Doris’s face. “The population is split equally between men and women. It’s why the Eliot Ness angle will work.”
The claws were definitely coming out today and Julie wanted to be long gone before they did any damage. Luckily, Duke had been trying to push Gregory in the stroller but couldn’t quite get the larger boy moving.
“Juju.” Duke could say Julie’s name with several different tones of voice. This one said, Help.
Julie stood. “Ladies, I’m touched you want to help me, but—”
“You don’t have to worry about a thing,” Doris said, leaning between the tables to clasp Julie’s wrist. “Let your campaign team do all the heavy lifting.” She lowered her voice. “We get to choose who does the mock traffic stop tonight with Nate. I recommend me.”
Julie wouldn’t wish Doris on her worst enemy, but if she said that out loud, she’d have her worst enemy in Doris.
“Juju.”
“I think I should do it.” Lilac adjusted her scarf, avoiding looking Doris in the eye. “Because I have so much experience being pulled over by Nate.”
“I agree.” Georgia had a contrary look in her eye and a too-innocent smile.
“Me, too.”
“I agree.”
Doris was being outvoted. That pleased Julie to no end.
“I’ll go with the majority,” Julie said sweetly. “Lilac it is.”