Chapter 2
“Iunderstand, Mrs. Beechman.” I tried to keep my face free from the annoyance and frustration I was undoubtedly feeling.
Wilma Beechman was an 82-year-old lady who called the sheriff’s station at least once a week. You know the people they called frequent flyers at the hospital because they were always showing up for one reason or another? She was our frequent caller. Sometimes it was because her cat climbed the tree in her front yard, again, or she called to complain about her neighbor’s dog barking too loud and scaring said cat. Noise complaints, rowdy teenagers down the street, cars driving too fast, the list goes on and on.
Normally, I was able to send a deputy out to deal with her but there was an accident over by the local diner, leaving no one in the office, but me, to take her call.
“I can’t garden in peace if those boys keep making a raucous,” she chided.
“I’ll take care of it, Mrs. Beechman.” By take care of it, I meant I would walk down the street and ask the Lenard boys to keep their volume down while they play 3 on 3 on the street in front of their house.
By the time I finished up the call, I was exhausted and ready to go home but I still had a few hours of paperwork I needed to get done before the end of the night. Instead of heading back to the station, I took a right and drove to the diner and to make sure everyone was okay. Days like today made me wonder why I stayed here but if I was being honest with myself, I wouldn’t change it. These were the things that made Ashwood Falls unique, and while the hard days made me question my sanity for taking this job, the good far outweigh the bad. Sometimes my brain just needed the reminder.
Ten minutes later, I pulled up behind deputy Randle’s cruiser. From the looks of it he was just wrapping up the fender bender and nobody looked seriously hurt.
“Hello, Sheriff Landon!” Jim called from the front steps of his diner. Jim had owned Sunny’s since I was in high school. His dad, Sunny, handed it off to him a few years before he passed away and from what I remember him saying, Jim planned to keep it in the family.
“Afternoon, Jim,” I nodded my hello and walked over to where Randle was standing. “Everything going okay over here?”
“All good, boss. Just some teenagers not paying attention. How’s our favorite little lady?” Randle asked with a smirk.
“Oh, you know, she can’t garden with a full-blown basketball game going on down the street,” I responded trying to keep the annoyance out of my tone.
Randle chuckled as we headed back to our cars. “Meet you back at the station, Sheriff.”
I nodded and slid behind the wheel. I needed to get the paperwork done without staying too late. My grandmother would never let me hear the end of it if I was late to church two weeks in a row.
The Ashwood Falls Police Station was an old building that had been around for decades and definitely looked like it. One of these days I would love to renovate the place but for now that was just a pipe dream. I parked my car in my designated parking spot and headed through the front doors.
“Evening, Dawn,” I gave a polite smile to our receptionist.
“Evening, Sheriff,” she gave me a little wave.
I rounded the bullpen and headed to the back left of the building where my office was located. My office wasn’t very large, but it fit my desk and chair, a filing cabinet and two chairs across my desk. I dropped down into the black leather chair and pulled out the mountain of paperwork I needed to finish. It was going to be a long night—and Gram was going to have to deal with me being a few minutes late in the morning.
The clock on the dashboard of my truck taunted me with its bright neon green light, relentlessly reminding me that I was 7 minutes late. I whipped my truck into the church parking lot, slamming on the brakes when I noticed someone occupying my spot. Granted, the sign merely said ”reserved,” but it was a well-known fact that it was reserved for the Sheriff—me. I realized that made me sound like a complete tool, but I was late, and I needed that parking spot.
Movement in the front seat caught my eye, prompting a reaction without much thought. Before I could stop myself, the window of my truck was rolled down, and I found myself yelling at the petite blonde who was quickly climbing out of a little white Honda.
“What do you think you’re doing?” My voice was low and rough.
I must have startled her because she jumped and a hand flew to her chest as she whirled around.
“Excuse me?” the little spot-thief squeaked.
“I said, what do you think you are doing? That is my spot,” each word came out as if they were their own sentence.
“Oh, um. Well… I didn’t know and if you couldn’t tell, I”m a little late so I really should get in there.” She said before rushing up the sidewalk without another look back.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath before speeding down the aisle looking for a different spot. Who did she think she was? The spot said reserved, who was she that she thought she could take a reserved spot just because she was running late.
I parked my truck and slammed the door before hurrying across the parking lot to the large front doors of the church. The one and only church in this town was similar to the precinct in the fact that it was super old but they seemed to take better care of this building. The siding was painted white with a tall steeple and a bell that hadn’t worked in I don’t know how many years. The tall wooden doors were a dark, cherry color with fancy handles.
I pulled the handle gently before sneaking into the back to find Gram and my brothers. It was no surprise that my three brothers were already standing in our normal pew, singing when I approached. They each sent me a knowing smirk before Gram”s gaze connected with mine. Oh boy, I was in trouble.
How was it that one look could make me feel like I was back in high school again? I was a grown man, but no age nullified the stern look from a grandmother. She was the only one who could make me feel like the best man and the worst screw-up all in the same day.
“Hey Gram, sorry I’m late, it was a long night,” I whispered before I placed a kiss on her cheek and scooted past my brothers in the pew.
“We will talk about this later,” she whisper-yelled at my retreating back.
”Ohhh someone”s in trouble,” Brooks snickered, giving me a playful shove.
”Everyone knows Gram likes to pretend Brant would be trouble, but she’s a big softie,” Brock whispered.
”Shush,” Gram shot us all a glare.
We spent the rest of church singing worship songs and listening to a message on Matthew 5. My mind was still processing something Pastor Walter had said when I rounded the corner and collided with none other than the spot thief herself.
“I am so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going—“ her words cut off when she noticed it was me. “oh, it’s you,” her eyes locked with mine and for a second, I was at a loss for words. Her eyes were deep green. I didn’t think I had ever seen such captivating eyes in my life. I quickly shook my head. I couldn’t be thinking about that right now.
“Me? You are the one who stole my parking spot!” I snapped back.
“Well, isn’t someone acting like an entitled child. I would love to sit here and listen to your little spiel, but I have more important things to do. Have a lovely day,” she flashed me what I could only assume was a mocking smile before she turned on her heel and sauntered toward the parking lot.
I stood there like a big idiot, at a loss for words, because she was the most beautiful—and sassy—girl I had ever seen, and I had no idea who she was.