After wandering around the house for an hour, J.T. figured he’d be better off at work. He needed to deal with all the baby gear he’d borrowed for her, but not today, not after his chest constricted when he set the rocking chair in motion. And he couldn’t climb into a bed that smelled like her, so he stripped the sheets and dumped them in the washing machine.
His hand hesitated over the dial. He lifted the lid and snatched a pillowcase from on top, the flowery-scented one. Folding it neatly, he drew it to his nose, then set it carefully on the dryer. He punched the start button with unnecessary force, grabbed his jacket and hurried out of the house.
Jamming his hands in his pockets, he made the long walk back to his car, Deputy trailing instead of leading, and scanning the countryside as he went, looking confused every time J.T. turned around to look at him.
Great. Guilt on top of misery. He wondered how long it would take for the dog to forgive him.
He wondered how long it would take to forget her.
Cars were parked in front of Belle’s, otherwise the town was still quiet. He needed coffee, but not company. He could make his rounds, end up at Max’s for breakfast, or Brynne’s, but dismissed the thought.
“This isn’t like you,” she’d said to him the last time, probably the most personal remark she’d made to him. “Or maybe it is, J.T. Did you think of that?”
Yeah, he’d thought about it plenty, for all the good it did him. He couldn’t deny Gina had changed him.
He settled on making a pot of coffee in his office. Deputy refused to come in with him, but took off up the street. J.T. hoped it wasn’t to chase Mrs. Foley’s cat. He was in no mood to rescue it.
Waiting for the coffee to brew, he sat at his desk, pillowed his head on his arms and closed his eyes…
The dog scratched at the door, whining.
Groggy, J.T. sat up. “Keep your fur on, mutt.” Every muscle aching, he stood, stretched, glanced at his watch. Stared. He’d slept three hours?
Deputy whined again—
No. That wasn’t a dog whining. It was a baby crying.
And not just any baby.
JoJo.
Gina fluttered a hand at Deputy. “Keep scratching,” she whispered, as if he knew what she was saying. Joey built up a little more steam. She was going to have to give up soon and feed him. Come on, J.T. Open up.
Bam. The door flew open and he looked out as Deputy ran back to sit at her feet. She leaned against the railing outside Mrs. Foley’s shop, trying to look unaffected, knowing her future depended on how she handled this opportunity.
He moved like a sheriff in the Old West, a slow mosey to his walk, but not fooling her. He was gathering his defenses.
He stopped a couple of feet from her. She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. She hoped she had him all figured out. If not, she had only dragged out the inevitable—for both of them.
But she’d heard him call her son JoJo. It gave her more hope than anything he’d said. It was personal and sweet. Loving.
“Did you have car trouble?” he asked above the baby noise.
“Nope.”
Joey hushed, turned his head. Hunted. J.T. moved to where the baby could see him, although he didn’t attempt to hold him, as he always had.
“Why are you here?” he asked, his expression bland.
“I live here.”
His jaw turned to granite; he narrowed his eyes. “What?” Low. Dangerous.
She shivered, liking the sensation.
A pickup truck rumbled past, the driver beeping and waving. She waved back.
He eyed the truck suspiciously. “What are Barney’s boys doing with the rocking chair and bassinet?”
“Taking them to Mrs. Foley’s house. We moved in.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Show me the law that says I can’t.”
“Gina.” His voice held that all-too-patient, all-too-condescending tone she’d heard from men forever.
“Are you telling me to get outa Dodge, Chief?”
He ignored her attempt at humor. “It would be too painful, and you know it.”
“For me or for you?”
His mouth drew into a tight line.
“In case you forgot, I’ve been challenged to a bake-off. I don’t duck my commitments.”
“Unlike me? Is that what you’re saying?”
“If the guilt fits…”
“Guilt?”
A few people gathered, the distance respectful but probably within hearing range. J.T. issued a “back off” order with his eyes. Nobody budged. Gina looked at the ground until the need to laugh faded.
“Come to my office, Gina.”
“Joey’s hungry.”
“So? Feed him inside.”
“I can’t,” she said quietly. “Not anymore.”
Hurt darkened his expression, but she wouldn’t back down. She knew what he was afraid of. “If you want to talk, Chief, give me a call to schedule some time.”
“Schedule some—”
“I’ll see if I can fit you in.”
“You’ll see if—”
“I’ve got library work to do, after all. And Winnie wants to start coordinating the Meals on Wheels.”
He looked increasingly dazed—until that moment. “Winnie’s still here?”
“She has commitments, too, you know.” She soothed Joey, who’d waited long enough. “One of the Cochran boys will return your house key when they’re done. I forgot to give it back to you.”
“Forgot? Don’t insult me.” He turned on his heel, then stopped.
A small mob had congregated now and was listening, fascinated. Even Max.
J.T. turned back to Gina, came almost nose to nose with her. “I never figured you for a vengeful person.”
“I’m not,” she whispered, standing on tiptoe, bringing her mouth close to his ear. She hoped she was right, that he was ready to hear the words. “I’m in love. And I figured out why you won’t marry me.”
With that she stepped around him and into Mrs. Foley’s shop, closing the door with a precisely controlled click.
His bed felt about the size of a football field without her. Even Deputy had packed his bags and left home. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, J.T. thought, trying to be fair. He didn’t have bags, after all. But three days ago he’d carried his food dish all the way to Mrs. Foley’s, who’d welcomed him with a “Scram!” only to give in when he looked so completely pathetic.
Or so J.T. had heard from Max. He wouldn’t know, personally. Gina hadn’t returned any of his six calls as yet.
I’m in love.
Her words danced around him, sometimes with the slow beauty of a waltz, sometimes with the heat of a tango. If only love was enough.
And JoJo had taken on a mythic role, being the first baby born in Lost and Found in thirty-eight years. Everyone decided he was a symbol of renewal for the town, which, admittedly, had stagnated. The population was aging. If anyone with children did move in, those children eventually grew up and moved on.
But a child born in Lost and Found would feel a stronger commitment to staying, wouldn’t he? Or so the speculation went.
It was an awesome responsibility to place on a baby. Someone needed to make sure the expectations didn’t become overwhelming. If he—they—stayed on.
J.T. punched his pillow. No one talked to him directly about what happened, but he heard bits of gossip. The only person he wanted to talk to was avoiding him.
Well, there was one other—Mark—but even he had stopped talking. J.T. had taken his brother’s photograph out of the drawer and set it on the mantel in the living room, knowing he wouldn’t hear Mark again. The voice in his head hadn’t been his brother but himself, trying to keep him alive. The revelation hurt as much as it helped. He hadn’t known he was capable of that kind of bitterness.
Loneliness swamped him. A couple of months ago he’d been perfectly happy. Content…
And I figured out why you won’t marry me.
Hell. She sure knew how to get to him.
He threw back the blankets, pulled on some clothes and headed out on foot. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well check that everyone had locked up for the night. But his legs took him without a pause to Mrs. Foley’s house on the other side of downtown. The lights were out. He looked at his watch. A little past midnight.
He knew which room Gina slept in. Had made it his business to find out.
A pebble crunched underfoot. He stooped, picked it up, crept closer to the house. He took aim, tossed it at her window. Plick.
He waited. No response.
Hell. What was it about her that reduced him to adolescence? His jealousy had gotten way out of hand.
He blew out a breath, the cold air fogging in front of his face. As long as J.T. was being honest with himself, he had to admit the mistakes he made with Eric.
Scrounging, he found two more stones and hefted them. Too heavy? Maybe. But he wanted her to wake up. He tossed them, one after another. The window opened and she stuck her head out.
“Are you drunk?”
He laughed. He didn’t know why, but it wasn’t what he’d expected to hear, and it made him happy.
“I’m coming up,” he said, not waiting for an answer. He jumped to grab a low, thick limb of a tree, dangled for a second, then hefted himself up onto it. Standing, he moved to a higher and longer limb leading to her room. Her hands were smashed against her mouth, like she might scream otherwise.
She wore his shirt.
He stopped for a second, appreciating the sight, then he inched along the sturdy branch, threw one leg over the sill and slid into the room, landing with a soft thud.
“Guess all that experience getting the damn cat down came in handy, after all,” he said with a grin.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered, sending cautious looks toward her door.
“Your—”
“Shh.”
“—social secretary couldn’t seem to find an opening for me. I figured maybe your calendar would be free about this time of night. Can I stay?”
“If you’re quiet.” She frowned. “My social secretary?”
“Winnie. Do you ever answer the phone yourself?”
“Well…”
“I thought not. Where’s JoJo?”
“I was informed that it was time for him to sleep in his own room.”
“And you obeyed?”
She rubbed her arms. “It was hard at first. I woke up a lot, listening for his breathing, until I realized he wasn’t here. I’m adjusting.”
He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her, not letting his hands linger. “Get back under the covers. You’re freezing.”
She scurried to the bed and climbed in. “No fireplace in here. And Mrs. Foley doesn’t believe in heating above fifty degrees at night.”
“Come home with me.” The words slipped out, startling him as much as her. He tucked his hands in his back pockets.
“Not without marriage,” she said after a minute. “And you won’t marry me because of your brother. Because of his illness. Because it’s believed to have a certain genetic connection.”
“How do you know that?”
“I researched it.”
“Then you know that the likelihood is strong that I would pass that gene along.”
“Stronger that you won’t.”
He stepped closer. “I can’t take that chance. I lived it, Gina. I lived it. To put another human being through that? My own child?” He sat on the bed finally, facing her, the old mattress dipping low.
“But they’re coming up with better ways of helping manic-depressives all the time. And we’d be more alert to the signals than most and get help sooner and make sure they followed the doctor’s orders. Your brother had an extreme case. It’s worth the risk, J.T. It is.”
“Not to me. If you’d been there, you’d agree. And the chances are greater of me carrying a gene, because we were twins. I was just lucky enough not to develop it yet.”
“Yet?”
“There’s still a chance.”
“Every couple takes a chance when they have a baby. It’s called faith, J.T. Sometimes babies are born with problems. If that happened, we would deal with it, right?” She got to her knees, reached for him. “I love you.”
He almost said he loved her, too. He almost asked if she’d be willing to adopt. Then he remembered the lie that Eric had told. The big lie. She would never have complete faith in him to protect them. Like Winnie, she would always be afraid he would run when things got tough.
Too many strikes against them.
Why had he thought otherwise, even for a second? Why had he let himself hope? He was hurting both of them. Again.
Damn it. Why hadn’t she just left town like she was supposed to?
The bedroom door creaked open, silhouetting a woman in the hall. Winnie.
“Gina? Are you okay?” Her hand moved along the wall.
“Don’t turn on the—”
A bright overhead light came on.
“Lights,” Gina finished lamely.
“We’re having a private conversation,” J.T. said over his shoulder to Winnie, not in the mood to play games with her.
“Tough.”
He turned around. She shut the door and walked up to the bed.
“I have something to say.”
“Winnie,” Gina said, ducking back under the covers and looking back and forth between J.T. and her mother-in-law. “This isn’t a good time.”
“This is the only time.” She clasped her hands at her waist. “I was wrong about you, J.T.”
“About which thing?”
“You get smart-mouthed with me and I won’t say this. Believe me, you want to hear it.”
J.T. sent a glance Gina’s way, but said nothing.
“The other day in your office I repeated something Eric had told me, which I’ve since discovered I was wrong about. I saw something in your eyes…” She stopped, took a breath. “This is hard for me to say. I knew my son well enough to know he exaggerated, sometimes even lied, because he always needed to be right. And I’m afraid his father and I indulged him too much in his life.”
Her gaze flickered to Gina. “I called his former captain and asked for the straight story. He pussyfooted around the answer, so I knew something was up. When I explained my suspicions, he finally told me everything. Gina, Eric lied to us. He said it was J.T.’s fault that man got shot. But it was Eric’s.”
Gina stared at J.T. This is what had been bothering him? This was what had made him push her away? She’d been so sure it was about having babies. Not having babies.
“Is that true?” she asked him.
He looked into the distance, his eyes unfocused, his expression painful to watch.
Finally he ran a hand down his face. “It’s more complicated than that. It’s true that Eric rushed the situation. Rookies sometimes do, because they haven’t learned how to control the adrenaline. In all fairness, though, the shooting may have been inevitable. An internal investigation cleared him. Both of us.”
“You didn’t correct me, even when I basically called you a coward,” Winnie said, her voice quavering. “I accused you of running away. Hiding out here.”
Oh, no. Gina wrapped a hand around J.T.’s fist. Winnie couldn’t have accused him of anything worse. A coward? He would lay down his life to protect.
Her mother-in-law stood a little taller. “You let me have my illusions about my son. You are an honorable man, J.T. Ryker. And I’m proud to know you.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t imagine a better father for my grandson than you. If you can’t work things out with Gina, so be it. But don’t let it be because of me. Or Eric. Joey’s who matters. He deserves a family. Now, I’ll leave you alone to continue your conversation.”
J.T. stopped her. “Thank you.”
“Shielding people from the truth isn’t always the best way to go, J.T. We women—” she tossed a glance Gina’s way “—we’re tougher than we look.”
“I won’t make the same mistake.”
“Good.”
They were left with a quiet room and a lot to think about.
“That’s why you hated Eric,” Gina said, breaking the silence. “He went against everything you believed in, every reason you became a cop.”
“We really did have different philosophies about the job. But to be honest, I was harder on him because I was jealous that he could have you and I couldn’t. Since the incident, I’ve had nightmares about shooting the man, except that just as the bullet strikes, he turns into Mark.”
She pressed her hands to his face, forcing him to look at her. “All this time?”
He nodded. “I’d finally stopped dreaming about it when you showed up. Then everything came back.”
“You blamed me?”
“I blamed Eric. Always. It was easier to blame him than to deal with my own failure. I failed Mark. I failed in my goal to prevent the same thing from happening to someone else.”
“Do you really believe you could have done anything differently?”
“No.” His gaze pierced hers. “That’s what I’m telling you. I finally know I couldn’t.”
“Eric was a good man, deep down,” she whispered, her throat hurting. “I have to believe that.”
“He had to be a good man. You loved him.”
Hold me. Please hold me. “I love you more. Much, much more.”
“He gave you a son.” He finally touched her, his hands cupping her face, then her shoulders, her face again. “But I’d be honored to raise him.”
She threw herself into his arms.
“I love you, Gina. Please will you marry me?”
“Oh, yes. Yes!” She drew back. “No.”
“No?”
“Not without knowing your name.”
One side of his mouth tipped up. “It’s Jasper Thelonius.”
“Oh.” She toyed with his shirt buttons. “Um, you’re not set on having a junior named after you, are you?”
“Gina.” He laughed. “Just Teasing.”
“Can I say good?” She poked a finger at his chest. “Well, what is it?”
“Jeffrey Tyler.”
“Jeff. I can see you as a Jeff.”
“Could even manage a junior with that one, I suppose,” he said, all of a sudden interested in the buttons on her shirt. He slipped one out. Another.
She grabbed his hand, stopping him. The million-dollar question, J.T. “Does that mean we’re going to have children?”
His gaze fell tenderly on her. “I guess I’ll have to learn to have faith.”
Joy burst inside her. She would’ve found other ways—adoption or technology, but this felt right. Life didn’t come with guarantees. “I’ll help you. I love you so much.”
“I love you more.”
She lost herself in his long, luxurious kiss. Found herself in his powerful embrace. Lost and found—for the rest of her life.
She could live with that.