38. Luke
THIRTY-EIGHT
LUKE
It’d been years since I rode the hayrack ride out to the pumpkin patch for the opening event of Golden Days—a pumpkin carving contest. I usually drove my patrol truck, met my niece there so she could select her favorite pumpkin, and drove back separately.
I stayed at the community center as long as I could to help her carve her pumpkin, but inevitably something always came up, and Connor had to finish the job.
This year was different.
I was in plain clothes and not allowed to interfere in police matters barring a true emergency.
The trailer lined with hay bales bounced along the gently rutted dirt road out to Benson Farms. Maggie was tucked against me, wearing one of the two flannel jackets I’d yet to get back despite that we were now practically living on my side of the duplex.
Her clothes were all over my room, there was a dog bed nestled under the living room window, and makeup was scattered all over my bathroom counter.
Ellie sat at Opal’s feet, sniffing the air as the ride rolled along at a whopping ten miles per hour.
The rain earlier in the week kept the dust down, and I tried to see the scene through Maggie’s bright eyes—autumn colors were at their full brilliance, water rushed under the bridge, and sunlight cast a glow across the mountains. It was like a storybook scene.
“She really loves it here,” Maggie said about Ellie.
Opal gently stroked the pup. “She’s happy because it’s home,” she said matter-of-factly.
My niece did that a lot. Spoke things as though they were fact. As though someone else was speaking through her. Connor, who was sitting right beside her, didn’t react.
If only this were Maggie’s home too.
I shook away the intrusive thoughts before they dampened the mood. I still had two weeks with the woman tucked into the crook of my arm, and I wasn’t going to ruin them by thinking about what would happen after she headed east.
We both understood there wasn’t a future here.
It’d taken me three years to entertain the idea of a relationship—and eventually a family—after Raquel skipped town.
Maggie was only three weeks into her life-altering decision.
It wasn’t fair to expect more of her so soon after calling off her wedding.
That didn’t take into account her family counting on her help when the baby arrived.
She was always going to leave.
We both agreed to enjoy what we had while we had it.
Maggie might’ve suggested that sentiment while kneeling in front of me, her hand wrapped around my cock as she guided it to her mouth.
But even with a clear head, nothing else made sense.
I couldn’t keep her in my bed forever, but there’d always be a place in my heart labeled Miss Mayhem.
“What are you going to carve into your pumpkin?” Maggie asked Opal.
“Wicket!” she announced proudly.
Maggie looked at me. “Should I know who that is?”
“He’s the Ewok that’s Leia’s friend,” Opal explained.
“I didn’t think they had names. Or did I miss that part?”
Her confusion was understandable. We’d attempted to watch Return of the Jedi no less than three times, but disappearing wardrobe resulted in us naked and distracted before Skywalker and his posse even made it to Tatooine to rescue Han from Jabba the Hutt.
Last night, with yet another pot of chili simmering in a crockpot, we made it through the movie only because Maggie met me in the shower before the opening sequence rolled.
The cookoff was tomorrow and we still hadn’t cracked the code. My money was on her, secret ingredient or not.
“They don’t name the Ewoks in the movies,” Opal said.
My nerdy side was about to show again. “I have trading cards.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Maggie flashed me an amused smile.
“Did you know Uncle Luke and Dad had a dog named Wicket?” Opal offered.
“When was this?”
I looked at my niece for a beat, but I couldn’t make sense of her tone. She spoke as though she knew Wicket. It wasn’t the first time. But that was no more possible now than any other time she mentioned him, considering the two had never met.
“We had him while we were growing up. He was the best dog.”
Ellie looked at me, and I couldn’t tell if she was simply listening or challenging me.
“Don’t worry, Ellie Belly. You’re the bestest girl now,” Maggie said.
Ellie’s tail swished, and she rested her chin on Opal’s leg.
“We fought over the name,” Connor explained of Wicket.
He’d been quiet most of the ride, as though his mind was somewhere else.
Understandable, considering how much his late wife had loved Golden Days.
He showed up for Opal every year, shoving down his own pain to make sure his daughter was happy.
My brother thought I shouldered a lot, but it was a fraction of what that man carried.
“I wanted the name Kenobi,” I said.
“And I wanted it to be Yoda,” Connor said. “He had the ears for it.”
“But Kira, who hardly took an interest in Star Wars, was obsessed with my trading cards. I barely let her look at them, and I never let her touch them. But when I did let her see them, she was always fixated on Wicket’s card.”
“Because he looks like a teddy bear,” Opal chimed in, giggling.
“She’s not wrong,” Maggie said.
“Because Dad was so done with the two of us arguing over the name, he threatened to let Kira pick it,” I explained.
“For context,” Connor added, “she was six and not the most reliable name-picker.”
“I took out the trading cards she was always begging to see so if it came to that, Star Wars was on the brain. I even let her hold them.”
“So you bribed your sister to pick a Star Wars name?” Maggie asked, laughing. “What if she picked Vader?”
“It would’ve certainly been better than Sparkles the Unicorn,” Connor said.
The trailer turned the corner into the Benson Farms Pumpkin Patch and slowed to a stop. Opal held on to Ellie with both hands until the trailer quit rocking. When Opal stood, she patted her stomach as though just remembering something.
“Everything okay?” I asked her.
Opal reached into the pocket of her pumpkin-themed hoodie and pulled out a spice bottle.
I looked at Connor, but he was as confused as I was.
“Bert said to give this to you.” Opal handed the bottle to Maggie. She then looped her hand through Ellie’s leash and the two of them took off at a run into the patch.
“Who’s Bert?” I asked a suddenly quiet Maggie.
She looked up at me, her eyes shiny. “My grandpa.” She held up the bottle, revealing it was a container of cinnamon. “And I think this might be the missing ingredient.” She stared after Opal. “How—”
Connor patted Maggie’s shoulder as he passed, and simply said, “We don’t really know how,” and followed his daughter into the patch.
Because I couldn’t explain the way my niece occasionally brought up the dead as though they had a message to share any better than my brother already had, I didn’t try.
We never talked about this ability, but we never tried to dismiss it either.
It was like an unspoken family secret. It was eerie at times. But also endearing.
“You okay?” I asked, slipping an arm around Maggie’s shoulders and tugging her into my side as we stepped off the trailer.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” she said on a wobbly laugh, revealing a watery smile. I held her for a beat, giving her time to process. “Mind if I step away to call my mom? I’m curious what she thinks about adding cinnamon to the chili.”
I pressed a kiss to her temple. “Want me to pick out your pumpkin?”
“The bigger the better,” she said, her smile now bright despite the stray tear rolling down her cheek.
I was three rows deep into the pumpkin patch, two plump pumpkins in my grip, when a familiar voice called my name.
I turned to find Mayor Rosalyn Chambers decked out in a maroon blazer adorned in pumpkins, dark jeans, and hiking boots.
A lanyard hung around her neck, announcing herself as an official Golden Days volunteer.
“Chief, I didn’t expect to see you out here.”
“Just helping my niece.”
“Is that why you’re carrying two pumpkins and she’s still searching for hers?”
I set the pumpkins down. “I thought I’d participate this year, too.”
“I knew it! I knew this time off would do you good. Are you . . .” She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing as though searching for a bug in my beard. “Are you smiling?”
“I smile,” I protested.
Rosalyn laughed loud and unapologetically.
I tried my typical glower, but it wouldn’t stick. I was too damn happy to be grumpy. Not a problem I ever thought I’d encounter. My gaze snagged on Maggie at the edge of the field, pacing and talking animatedly into the phone.
“She’s been good for you,” Rosalyn observed, following my sightline.
My objection lodged in my throat, because the mayor was right. Maggie was the breath of fresh air I didn’t know I needed. Without her, there’d still be glacial layers around my heart settling in for an apocalyptic Ice Age.
“She’s been good for this town, too,” she added.
“She has,” I agreed.
“I was hoping to catch you today, actually. Didn’t expect it to be here, but hey, I’m not complaining. Saves me hunting you down later.”
Rosalyn shifted to her official mayoral tone, and I gave her my full attention.
“Everything okay? Have any of my officers given you a hard time—”
“Your department has been nothing but great, just as I predicted. And while we’re on that topic, I meant to commend you for stepping back and letting them show you and the town that they’re more than capable of handling things so the chief can take a break every once in a while.”
“If you’re worried I’m going to let my PTO stack up again, I can assure you, that won’t be the case.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” Rosalyn glanced back at Maggie. “I wanted to talk to you about her.”
“Maggie?”
“The Legion approached me about establishing a VSO position for Bluebell Springs.”
“They did?”
That might explain the quick lunch break that took over two hours the other day. Not that I could tell them when to go and when to stay. The float was being assembled purely on a volunteer basis. But it had been unusual per their normal routine.
“They want her, of course. But there’s a bunch of red tape to even get a Veteran Service Officer position created, especially since we’re not the county seat. Frank promised he has some connections to speed up the process. But, if we succeed, do you think she’d be interested?”
I looked at Maggie, laughing and swiping at the tears beneath her eyes. “She’ll be gone for a while, helping her family.”
“But she might consider coming back?” Rosalyn asked, her tone hopeful.
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to believe that if Maggie had a purpose here in Bluebell Springs, she would move here permanently in a heartbeat. She loved this town and everyone in it as much as they loved her. But she needed her family. She needed to heal and find her own way.
“It’s worth a shot,” I finally said.
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” Rosalyn beamed. “Oh, do me a favor. Don’t tell her we had this conversation.”
“What? Why not?” I didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from Maggie.
“Frank and the others were insistent we not say anything until we know for sure we can make it happen. Plus, they’re really set on surprising her.”
I glanced back at Maggie who was stuffing the phone in her back pocket. She stared off at the mountains in the distance and just smiled. Even if the position was successfully created, it didn’t guarantee Maggie would return.
But it did give me something I hadn’t had before.
Hope.