Chapter 18
Leslie eased herself off the bed and tucked the covers around her second son. Every night since Jeremiah’s death, Conner struggled with sleeping. He usually cried, missing his dad.
She didn’t blame him. After Jeremiah returned, he changed his life around, hoping to get his boys back.
Unfortunately, the state didn’t think an abandoned resort and an ex-con constituted a stable home for the three younger boys.
Two of the older boys left, and the third one didn’t want anything to do with him.
A tear ran down her cheek as she recalled the day Jeremiah entered her life.
Leslie wiped her tears, tired from another night of no sleep with a newborn. The loss of her own mother when she needed her the most, sent a fresh bout of tears. How did she ever believe raising a baby on her own sounded like a good idea? It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
She felt the familiar jab in her chest like a knife to her heart. It happened every time she thought of Owen and how he left.
The doorbell rang, and she wiped her eyes as she rushed to answer it before it woke Tucker. She gasped when she found Jeremiah Wolfe standing on her porch. No one spoke about the man since he went to prison for the scandal which rocked the small town.
She pushed open the screen door, sending him a hesitant smile. His piercing grey eyes reminded her of Owen’s and his brothers'.
“Hello, Jeremiah,” she greeted.
He swiped his hat from his head and held it to his chest. “I’m sorry to hear about your mom, Leslie,” he said nervously. “I returned recently and heard the news.”
“Thanks,” she said, as she wiped her eyes with her sweatshirt sleeve.
“I heard a few other things,” he said slowly. “It’s my fault Owen’s not here, or my Holly.”
“Owen has a mind of his own, Jeremiah. If he wanted to contact me, he knows my number. I didn’t change mine,” bitterness crept into her voice.
The baby’s cries drifted to the porch, and she turned around to tend to him. Jeremiah followed her inside as she picked Tucker up and held him to her chest.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” she crooned. “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve changed your diaper, fed you, and burped you.”
Jeremiah scanned the messy living room, where burp clothes lay thrown in every direction. Dirty dishes filled the sink, and the garbage overflowed.
“Sorry, it’s such a mess. I didn’t plan on company. The baby has his nights and days mixed up, and he won’t stop crying. I’ve tried everything,” she sobbed. “Maybe I’m not meant to raise him.”
Jeremiah took the baby from her arms and grinned as he held his first grandchild. “What’s his name?”
“Tucker Owen,” she sniffed.
“There’s no doubt he’s a Wolfe. I already see the specks of grey in his eyes,” he gushed.
“No, he’s a Wilkins. Owen doesn’t care about the baby or me. I’m doing this alone, and Tucker’s mine,” she said vehemently.
Jeremiah gazed at her sadly and then back at her son.
“There’s nothing wrong with Tucker. He’s trying to figure out his new world.
His mama, on the other hand, needs a good rest. What do you say we become acquainted while she takes a hot shower?
We’ll fix her something hot to eat, and then she can take a nap. ”
Leslie gazed at him wearily. Jeremiah drank, and she didn’t want him near her son after what happened to Holly.
“I’ve attended rehab and remained sober for the last eight months,” he said, guessing her thoughts. “You have my word, I’ll never drink again. I’ve lost my family and driven my sons away. You’re not doing this alone.”
“I can’t leave him. He starts crying,” she said, the temptation of an uninterrupted sleep pulling at her.
“He feels your anxiety and exhaustion. Go take a shower while I make you something to eat,” he encouraged.
“I…I don’t have much left in the fridge. My paycheck doesn’t arrive until Friday,” she confessed.
“No wonder, he’s fussing,” Jeremiah said, rocking Tucker back to sleep. “His mama doesn’t have enough nutrition. Don’t worry. We can rustle up something,” he assured her.
She showered and ate a bologna sandwich before Jeremiah sent her to her bedroom.
She fell asleep within minutes. When she woke up, she found Jeremiah reading a book.
Her house appeared spotless, and something cooked in the slow cooker.
Feeling much better, she peeked in the bassinet to find Tucker waking up from his nap.
“He’s a keeper. If you don’t mind, I’ll stop by tomorrow for a visit,” he whispered before walking out the door.
“Thank you,” she murmured, too surprised to speak.
Recalling the nurse’s instructions to drink more while breastfeeding, she opened the fridge door to grab the cold-water pitcher. Her eyes widened as she saw the stocked fridge full of fresh vegetables, fruits, and healthy snacks.
Jeremiah returned every day, giving her breaks. For ten years, he kept his promise and never touched another drink. Tucker and eventually Conner became his world. Leslie represented the daughter he always wished for. If not for him, she didn’t know what might’ve happened to her and Tucker.
A crash below on the main floor grabbed her attention. Rushing to her room, she took the gun from the safe and slowly made her way down the staircase.
A large man bent over her desk, sifting through her mail. Her heart raced as she recalled Jeremiah’s training and aimed her weapon at the intruder.
“Put your hands in the air, or I’ll shoot,” she warned him.
Instead of doing as she asked, he rushed her, knocking the weapon to the floor. Taken by surprise, she grabbed the lamp and swung it, knocking him to the side. He crashed into her coffee table, and she searched for another weapon to use, thinking about her boys upstairs.
Picking up a vase, she smashed him upside the head. He roared and his fist connected with the side of her face, disorientating her. She fought the dizziness as he pulled her close to his masked face.
“Where did he put it?” the intruder asked, shaking her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted, struggling from his hold.
“Yaaa,” Tucker yelled as he swung his baseball bat, hitting the man in the shoulder. He dropped her and ran for the door. His tires spun on the rocky road as he disappeared from sight.
Leslie pulled her son close and hugged him tightly.
“Mom, did he hurt you?” Tucker cried. “I’m scared.”
“No, honey, I’m fine,” she assured him, trying to catch her breath. “Be careful the floor has glass on it.”
“Mom?” Conner’s scared voice came from the stairway.
“I’m right here,” she called. “Don’t come down. I fell and broke a vase. There’s glass everywhere.” She motioned for Tucker to stay quiet. She threw pillows from the couch onto the floor, making a path to the stairs.
Taking Tucker by the shoulders, she said, “I want you to go upstairs and pack your clothes. We’re staying at Grandpa’s. Don’t say anything to Conner. He’s barely sleeping these days.”
“What if he comes back?” Tucker asked.
“I’m calling the police. They’ll be here any minute,” she explained. “I don’t think he meant to harm us. He must’ve entered our house by accident.”
When Tucker ran upstairs, she turned on the light and grabbed her weapon. She sharply inhaled as she took in her furniture, all slashed to pieces. Papers were scattered all across the floor, and her kitchen door swung open in the wind.
She secured the door as she unplugged her phone from the kitchen outlet and dialed nine one one.
“I’d like to report a break-in,” she said, barely able to hold the phone as she trembled. Giving them her address, Leslie locked the front door and rushed upstairs to her boys.
Tucker appeared pale as he clung to Conner.
“It’s all right,” she assured him. “Let’s pack our things together.” Knowing both boys kept clothes at Jeremiah’s house, she grabbed their backpacks and entered her room to get her purse and change into clothes instead of her robe.
She hissed as she removed her arm from the sleeve, seeing the wide gash on her arm. Wrapping a towel around it, she threw on a sweatshirt and jeans, while the boys sat on her bed. Sirens blared, and she took their hands, leading them into the kitchen, keeping their eyes averted from the mess.
“I’m closing the door while I speak with the sheriff. Tucker, why don’t you fix yourself and Conner some hot chocolate? You can even add extra marshmallows and whipped cream,” she said, smiling. “Everything’s all right. We’ll go to Grandpa’s in a few minutes.”
She shut the farmhouse door as two officers walked up to the porch.
Her arm stung, and her neck throbbed as she recalled Jeremiah’s frenzied call to her the night before his death.
“What’s the matter, Jeremiah?” she asked when he called at nearly midnight.
“Do you remember Conner’s school project?” he asked frantically. “The one with the time capsule?”
“Yeah, did you forget something?” she asked.
“No. I wanted to make sure you remembered it,” he said, sounding out of sorts.
Leslie rose from her bed and turned on the light .
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing. Take care of my boys, Leslie. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you, all of you,” he said before the phone went dead.
When she called him back, he didn’t answer. Knowing Jeremiah talked in his sleep, she chalked it up to one of his crazy dreams. Little did she know she’d never speak to him again.
“Do you know of anyone who might do this?” the officer asked as they took photos and made a report.
Shaking her head, she answered, “No.”
“Do you owe anyone any money or have a disagreement with someone who might want to scare you?” his partner asked.
“No.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m an auditor for the Chalet Resort. What does my job have to do with someone breaking into my house?” she asked.
“Maybe one of your customers got mad and found out where you lived,” he suggested. “We’re only trying to find a reason why they’d rob someone way out here.”