Laurel had just about given up on Tripp, when he walked back in the break room. She remembered from experience that urgent calls could take much longer than expected. Still, this one was taking a lot longer than she would have thought possible.
When he came back in, she could tell that something had happened. He looked worn and angry. The mouth she’d found appealing when it was grinning at her was pressed into a firm line. His eyes darkened to a smolder and his fists clenched and unclenched.
“Looks like we need to leave you to your business,” she said. “Whatever happened just now is more important than this.”
Surprise clouded his face. “How could you tell that? We haven’t even known each other a day. And most of my buddies say I’m the best poker player they know.”
Laurel shrugged. “Parents make lousy poker players. Verna said it was a call about your daughter. And I’m the mother of a teenage boy, remember? I can recognize the look of another distraught parent even when he’s trying to hide it.” She knew that statement would get her an eye roll from Jeremy, but she didn’t care. Right now, Tripp looked miserable, and she wanted to help if she could.
“Glad to know my reputation at the card table is intact, anyway.” He looked at Jeremy as if he was trying to decide something. “Could you give me a minute alone with your mom? Take your skateboard from Miss Verna and head home to your grandpa’s with it. Straight home, would you?”
Jeremy stood up, wide-eyed. “Yes, sir. Does that mean you’re not going to charge me, after all?”
There was a long silence from the sheriff. “Not this time.”
For a moment Laurel had thought Tripp would ask Jeremy what he should be charged with. Whatever had happened with his daughter, it was taking his whole concentration.
“And Jeremy?”
His question stopped her son at the door. He turned to face them, looking incredibly young and less cocky than she’d seen him in a very long time.
“Yes, sir?”
“A plain ‘yes’ would be okay. This isn’t military school, although if your Grandpa Collins catches wind of your goings-on, you could be headed for one. I just wanted to tell you I wouldn’t keep your mom long. Thanks for lending her to me.”
Jeremy grinned. “I’d say any time, but I wouldn’t mean it. Do you think we’re even, if I lend her to you for a little while?”
There was a ghost of a smile on Tripp’s face. “Depends on the advice she gives me.”
Jeremy looked at her. “This better be good, Mom. You don’t want me to have a juvenile record, do you?”
“No, but if you do, you won’t be able to blame me. Now go tell Grandpa Sam I’ll be along soon.” She made shooing motions, and he left quickly, slamming doors behind him as only a teenage male in a hurry to leave can do.
She motioned to Tripp. “This looks like one we both need to sit down for. Let’s get the worst out of the way first. Ashleigh’s alive and well, I hope.”
He nodded. “Not a scratch on her according to Pearl, her grandmother.”
“Okay. That’s good. That lets out the worst possibilities.” She knew problems were different for girls’ parents. Even in this modern world, troubles with female teens involved more broken hearts than broken bones. “Is she still there with Pearl? No running away?”
“Still there. Under lock and key, if I have anything to say about it.” He looked grim.
“I recognize that look,” Laurel told him. “As the oldest of three daughters I saw it often when any of us brought home somebody Daddy didn’t approve of. She’s seeing a boy, isn’t she.”
He seemed to explode with emotion. “Yes! And she’s too young to even consider it. She’s just thirteen. What business does she have dating? And how did Pearl let this happen?”
“You can’t shadow a thirteen-year-old every minute. At least, not if you want to keep what little sanity you possess, or leave her with any dignity. I assume she didn’t go to her grandmother and actually ask if it was okay to start dating.”
“You’ve got that right. Pearl thought she was at the library. Or at a friend’s house.” He looked pained when he met Laurel’s gaze. “The worst part of it is that I’m pretty sure I could have done something if I’d been there.”
“Maybe you could have, maybe not. I assume it’s not too late to do plenty now, though. If she’s still there with Pearl, Ashleigh hasn’t eloped with this kid—whoever he is—or made any other drastic commitments.”
“Of course not.” Tripp looked like a raging bull again. “She is only thirteen. Even Ashleigh remembers that most of the time.”
“How old is the boy? Do you know him?”
“Only by reputation, and it isn’t good. He’s eighteen. Way too old to be hanging around my daughter.”
“I haven’t seen pictures of Ashleigh. Is it obvious that she’s only thirteen?”
Tripp’s head snapped sharply in Laurel’s direction. “What are you implying about my little girl?”
Whoa. She breathed a silent prayer for help. Suddenly she felt she was in way over her head. “Hey, I remember being a teenager. The last thing most girls want is to look their age, whatever it is. Is it possible that this boy doesn’t have a clue how young she is?”
Tripp paused and stopped frowning for the first time since he’d walked back in the room. “It’s possible. I hate to give him any credit at all. That would make it harder to wring his scrawny neck when I catch him tonight.”
That sure sounded like her father twenty years ago. Laurel searched for the right words. What did her mom always say at this point, to calm Hank down? She’d had plenty of practice, and none of the three girls had ever lost a boyfriend.
“Do you want to pray about this?” It wasn’t what she’d intended to ask, but it just popped out.
“Not really. I’m sure God has better things to do than to handle my petty problems. Especially when I’m capable of handling them all by myself.”
“Oh, right. Your idea of handling this is rushing off to St. Louis, locking Ashleigh in a tower like Rapunzel and making a fool of yourself by threatening some kid who probably doesn’t have a clue how he’s upset you.”
Tripp’s smile was wan. “Put that way, it does sound a bit rough. But she’s my little girl.”
“And she needs reminding of that. Gently, from a loving father who obviously wants the best for her and expects the best from her. Just like our heavenly father does for us, Tripp. Sure you won’t reconsider a quick prayer before you go off?”
He stood up, looking tired. “Say one for me. You seem to have much more confidence in God than I do. But thanks for the reminder, anyway.”
“Any time. Who’s going to mind the store while you’re away?”
Tripp shrugged. “I figure Verna and the two patrol officers we’ve got on duty can handle things. If they can’t, I’m not going to be out of radio contact or more than an hour away at any time. And I don’t expect to stay in St. Louis long.”
“Do you want company? Mr. Sam and Jeremy could manage without me for a few hours.” Where had that offer come from? This man brought out the most amazing reactions in her.
Tripp shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t. I invited myself. If you want me.”
“Maybe I do. I’m out of my depth here. If nothing else, maybe you can translate what Pearl and Ashleigh are saying into language a street cop can understand. And maybe you can stop the street cop from saying anything he’ll instantly and permanently regret.”
“I can try. But I won’t make any promises. I’ve already seen you in action, Sheriff Jordan, and I can’t imagine you’re easy to stop in any situation.”
He tipped his hat up with one finger in a gesture that made her shiver. “Someday we’ll have to test that theory.”
An hour later, Laurel was sure she’d finally lost her mind. What on earth had possessed her to ask if she could go along on this little jaunt? There hadn’t been time to call Gina. Her friend definitely would have talked her out of this venture.
Instead, she was here with Tripp who was still grim and mostly silent while he navigated the SUV that was his personal vehicle down the highway toward St. Louis.
So far this had been a slightly odd and awkward trip. First, he had followed her to Mr. Sam’s, where she had dropped off the car and told her family what she was doing. There hadn’t been time to change clothes or shoes, which she regretted. She’d hurried back outside, as Mr. Sam and Jeremy exchanged surprised glances, and had gotten into Tripp’s vehicle.
Now they were on their way in silence, and Laurel was telling herself that she was more than a little unhinged for doing this. She searched her mind for conversation topics that might bring Tripp out of his shell a little. None came to mind.
She didn’t have much experience with law enforcement officers who weren’t related to her. Hank had always made sure of that. Of course, he hadn’t been any happier when she’d brought Sam home. But then, what father would be thrilled by his nineteen-year-old daughter bringing home one of the professors from the junior college she attended? Especially one who was thirty-four, and had the itch to move to California and become a screenwriter.
Next to all that turmoil, Ashleigh’s dating an eighteen-year-old sounded fairly tame. Although, five years at her age was as much of a gap as fifteen years had been for Sam and Laurel.
At least they had both been adults by the time they broke the news to her folks that they were in love. At the time, she had felt like an adult. But the older Jeremy got, the less sure she was that nineteen had been old enough to get married and move across the country. Still, things had worked out between them.
In the midst of her musing, Laurel was aware of a hand on her arm. It was Tripp’s hand, warm from the steering wheel, and insistent.
“I asked if you wanted to stop for anything?”
She felt herself blushing. “You probably asked several times, didn’t you. I tend to go off into my own airspace once in a while.”
He shrugged. “I figured it must be a California thing.”
“Not really. I was a daydreamer in Missouri, too. It’s just a little more socially acceptable out there.”
That made him chuckle. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t answer my question. Are you hungry or thirsty or anything? Because once we get past the next two highway exits, I’m not stopping until we get to St. Louis.”
“It’s kind of you to offer, but I’m fine. And I know you want to get to Pearl’s and see your daughter.”
“I do and I don’t. What do I say to her? If I yell at her like I want to, she won’t want to come home with me. But I don’t want to give her any choice. I can’t let her stay at Pearl’s and mess up her life.”
He still stared straight ahead at the traffic on the highway. Both hands were back on the wheel, and Laurel could see where his knuckles were turning white from his intense grip.
“I still think that praying about this whole situation together might be a good idea. How about if I just said something out loud, and if you agree with me, you can say, ‘Amen’? Will that work?”
There was a long pause, and then Tripp nodded. “Okay. I’ll give you that much. But if I don’t agree, don’t hold your breath waiting on that ‘Amen,’ either.”
That seemed to be Tripp. Bold, blunt and just a bit contentious. Laurel wondered what that bold spirit could do for good under the right circumstances. It was an awesome thought.
“Okay, here goes. Let me gather my thoughts a little.” Laurel tried to concentrate on this girl she hadn’t met yet, and the girl’s father, whom she knew so little. It was difficult, with trucks rumbling past, and this man who so confused her sitting so close.
Another deep breath, then she closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, you hold us all in the palm of your hand. Even with your perfect example, it is so hard to be a parent. We know that you have a plan for each and every one of your children, Ashleigh included. Help her to see evidence of that plan in her life, and help her father find the right words to lovingly guide her in the right direction.”
“Amen.”
Tripp’s answer was so soft, Laurel almost didn’t hear it. When she looked over, his hands didn’t seem to be gripping the wheel quite as tightly. It comforted her a little. Maybe now he’d slow down to within five miles of the speed limit. She should have put something about peace and calm in that prayer.
“We should have brought Jeremy.”
Laurel’s pronouncement startled Tripp so much that he almost swerved in his haste to look at her.
Maybe he hadn’t really heard her right. “We should have what?”
“Brought Jeremy along. As company for Ashleigh on the way back.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s just what I want. Here, honey, I want to get you away from this environment where you’re hanging out with boys. Oh, and guess what I brought for you on the way home?”
“Ouch. I didn’t think of it that way. But neither would Jeremy. He’s not exactly a smooth operator around girls yet.”
“Just things with wheels, huh?” Tripp tried to hide the snarl in his voice. Laurel didn’t deserve him snapping at her the entire trip, even when her ideas weren’t the greatest.
“Mostly just skateboards, at this point. Although, he is showing some interest in helping Mr. Sam retool Lurlene. Those older cars have much simpler workings, according to his grandfather.”
“He’s right. To understand the new ones, you have to have a degree in computer science. I miss the days when I could do more than change my own oil.”
“I’ll bet you were the kind of teenager that always had your head under the hood of a car, weren’t you.”
He could hear the smile in her voice. “You got that right. Usually I was under that hood doing something that would get me into trouble, like making whatever I was driving a little faster, a little harder to catch…” He felt absolutely nostalgic. “How about your husband? Did he inherit his father’s love for old vehicles?”
“Not really. But then, by the time we met he had worked that all out of his system, if it was ever there.”
“Oh? I thought all young men went through a decade or so when they tinkered with cars continually. Everybody I knew did. And I remember your dad saying you got married young.”
“I was young. Nineteen.” She sounded a little far away, and Tripp wondered what she was thinking. Had he unintentionally messed up here? It wouldn’t surprise him if he had. Around this woman he wasn’t any smoother than a teenager himself.
“Is that all dad said about my marriage?”
Now, that sounded like an odd question. What was behind it? “Pretty much. We haven’t had a lot of time to talk about things like that. He said you married young, and he and your mom didn’t exactly take to Sam right away.”
“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one. My mother came around some before she died. But even after Jeremy was born, Dad wasn’t so sure about Sam.”
There was something in her words that he still found puzzling.
“Tripp, if you’re just being kind, and Dad said what he really thought about Sam, you don’t have to be chivalrous on my account.”
“You don’t know me well enough yet to know I’m never that chivalrous. Did Sam have a record or something? It’s about all I can imagine Hank holding against him.”
“No, Sam had never been arrested. He just wasn’t the man my father had in mind. He was a professor at the junior college, and when we met he didn’t have tenure or much money, or much of anything except a desire to dump the job he had and go to California.”
Tripp felt he might have more in common with his boss than he’d realized. When they got settled down and back to Friedens, he would have to ask Hank how he had handled the situation with Sam without killing his future son-in-law. “So Hank was upset that he was losing his little girl.”
“That was part of it. The other part of it is that Sam was closer, by several years, to Daddy’s age than mine.”
Tripp did some quick mental math. When she’d said Sam was an assistant professor, he just assumed he was a very young assistant. “Whoa. I know your dad is over sixty, though not by much. So you were dating a man who was, what, over thirty?”
“Thirty-four. And he didn’t lie to my parents about it, either.”
Wow. He was really going to have to have that talk with Hank. His admiration for his boss grew by the moment. “I guess that’s one point in his favor. But I have to admit, I would have been as upset as your dad.”
“No doubt. You’re already upset, and your daughter and this boy she’s allegedly been seeing are both teenagers.”
“Just barely,” he reminded her, starting to feel prickly again. “She’s only been one for a matter of months, and the boy is way too close to being an adult for my taste. Does your observation mean you don’t see as much wrong with this as I do?”
Out of the corner of his eye he could see her shaking her head.
“Not my call to make. I know that when I was nineteen the age difference between us mattered much more to my parents than to me. Or to Sam. But we were both adults, and your daughter is far from that point.”
“At least we agree on something.”
Tripp pulled off the highway and started working his way through the grid of south St. Louis streets that made up his old familiar neighborhood—brick row houses and small apartment buildings interspersed with bungalows with stone steps and porches. Kids rode bikes on the street, the bravest and most foolish ones swerving into the path of cars. If it hadn’t been for Laurel, he would have stopped and yelled at the kids. Tripp swore as he maneuvered quickly to avoid one of them.
He could hear Laurel’s intake of breath.
“If you’re going to take your daughter home,” she admonished, “you don’t want to use language like that near her.”
His temples were pounding. “I don’t. I also don’t want to hit a kid on a bike. I’m human, Laurel, and most of the places I’ve found myself in as an adult are filled with people who swear.”
“Not in Friedens. Not like that.”
He tried not to sigh. “You’re right. Verna has a swear jar just for such occasions, and I’m the main contributor.” He didn’t add that Hank wasn’t far behind him, because that obviously wasn’t the image Laurel had of her dad.
There wasn’t any more time to argue about this, anyway. They were at Pearl’s front door. Tripp parked at the curb and turned off the ignition. Now more than ever, he missed his hat. His real hat, the sharp gray fedora that sat in his closet in Friedens gathering dust.
In that hat he could face down anybody, including Pearl and his argumentative daughter. The sheriff’s hat just didn’t give him the same feeling of authority.
Maybe because he didn’t feel like a sheriff. He’d always felt like a detective, always been comfortable in the job. Even as Hank’s deputy he liked the territory. But now he was on unfamiliar ground in so many ways. The job didn’t fit, the hat didn’t fit—and he had no idea what to say to his daughter.
He thought back to the prayer Laurel had said a few minutes earlier. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. He was definitely struggling with what he would say to his daughter when he got inside. This could be one of the most important conversations of his life, and he felt ill-prepared to do it alone.
“Amen,” he said again under his breath as he stood on the hot asphalt outside Pearl’s house. In this situation he needed all the help he could get.