Dinner Friday night was another occasion in which Nixie was forced to look at her childhood nemesis in a different light.
She’d been expecting him to take her to the Rib Rack, a popular local restaurant that featured lots of beef and a casual—even rowdy—atmosphere. Instead, he’d surprised her by making reservations at Jean Jacques in a nearby town.
He’d surprised her further by recommending an excellent chicken dish to Nixie and ordering their meals in fluent French. This was certainly not the monosyllabic boy she remembered from high school.
While they waited for their dinner, Boone asked her a few questions, and soon she was telling him all about Paul. Not just the good things that people tend to remember after a loved one is gone, but she even told him that her husband had been a workaholic, something she’d never shared with anyone else.
When she explained how they’d been on their way to a weekend getaway at a mountain cabin to escape the stress of his job and of tending to the two babies, she appreciated Boone’s quiet understanding.
And when she described how she had tried helplessly to free her unconscious husband after she’d regained consciousness herself, from the flaming car after he’d fallen asleep at the wheel and crashed into a tree, she was thankful for Boone’s non-pitying empathy.
It wasn’t until their desserts arrived that she realized she had monopolized the entire conversation. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to bore you.”
Boone looked across the table at the exciting woman sitting opposite him. “You don’t bore me.” He wanted to add, “You fascinate me,” but thought better of it. With his record of teasing, he knew she wouldn’t take him seriously.
“Well, enough about me,” she said, plunging her spoon into the strawberry parfait. “Tell me about your newspaper. You seem to be making quite a few improvements.”
“There’s not much to tell,” he admitted. “I saw my hometown newspaper on the brink of going under, so I bought it and am trying to turn it around.”
“I’ve been enjoying the new advice column, ‘Ask Aunt Alice.’ Is she a local person?”
Boone tensed. He bought a few seconds by mashing the remaining crumbs of his seven-layer cake onto his fork. “Alice is a very private person,” he said at last. “She feels more comfortable staying in the background.”
Nixie nodded her agreement. “I suppose it would get tiresome to have people telling her their problems every time she goes to the store or to get her hair done.”
He smiled. “Yes, I suppose it’s something like that.”
Nixie dabbed the napkin to her mouth and flashed him a decidedly sneaky smile. “Do you always reserve the front page for catastrophic, earth-shaking news?”
Boone paused a moment before answering. From that smug smile to her intense interest in his plans for the newspaper, it was clear she was baiting him. Always open for a little sport, he bit.
“Only the most incredible news goes on page one.”
“Like the opossum that gave birth in Mrs. Masten’s garbage can?”
“It’s not every day a person finds baby wildlife in her garbage can.”
“If the rescue squad were to sponsor a fundraiser, would you put that on page one?”
Boone smiled his amusement. The woman was definitely persistent. “It depends on whether the photo opportunity rates right up there with Mrs. Masten’s possums.”
“Just what I wanted to hear. I’m sure you’ll want to assign a reporter to cover our project, as soon as I figure out what it’s going to be. I’ll let you know the date as soon as the committee decides.”
“Tell me, why is it so important for the rescue squad to receive news coverage in the Gazette?”
“It’s the fire department, too, actually. We’re having membership drives, and public awareness makes people more willing to donate money to buy more modern equipment and convert to an upgraded 911 system.”
“What’s wrong with the current system?”
“Right now, it won’t accept text messages. The system can only take voice calls.”
It seemed fairly obvious, but as a journalist he had to ask, “Why can’t people just call? Seems like it would be easier and quicker to give the information that way?”
A shadow fell over Nixie’s delicate features. He knew from experience that she wasn’t as delicate as she looked, but right now she seemed almost … fragile.
“The first person who stopped to help Paul and me was deaf. His text wouldn’t go through. I was unconscious, so he had to wait for the next passerby to stop before they could give instructions to the dispatcher.” Nixie grew silent for a moment before continuing. “Paul might have been saved if the fire department had arrived a few minutes sooner.”
Boone frowned and idly rubbed where the hair tickled the nape of his neck. She was blaming herself for her husband’s death. No wonder she was so insistent in her efforts to publicize the rescue department’s activities.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of dark-rimmed glasses, then withdrew his ever-present pad and pen from his coat pocket. “This sounds like a story.” Jotting down the essentials, he said, “I’ll have the feature writer contact you next week.”
Nixie was shaking her head. “I don’t want a story about me. I’d be happier if you’d send your reporter to cover the squad’s publicity project … when we pick a date for it, that is.”
He figured now would be the time to tell her about the Cub Scout event next month. “All right,” he said, tucking the pad and pen back in his coat pocket, “but I’d suggest you make it any day but the twenty-fifth. That’s the weekend of the family camporee.”
Nixie looked at him blankly. It didn’t sound like something that should concern her.
“The Cub Scout camp-out,” Boone clarified. “Brad is expected to come. And you and Bethany should be there that morning and afternoon for Family Day.”
Nixie didn’t like the idea of this. What had started as a few den meetings where her son would memorize pledges and make crafts had now ballooned into the kind of activity she feared for him to be involved in. Why, he could become lost in the woods, get bitten by a snake, or any number of other things she’d rather not think about.
Boone must have misread her concern for reluctance to participate. “You won’t have to stay for the whole thing,” he assured. “That night is for Scouts and fathers only.”
Nixie didn’t have time to respond before he caught his error and suggested, “Perhaps Mr. Cordaire would like to fill in this time.”
The panic she’d felt a moment ago was now replaced by amusement at his suggestion. “Uncle Jay sleeping in a tent? He might go for it if you could promise him a portable TV that would pick up HBO.” She shook her head. “Besides, his snoring would keep everyone else awake.”
Elbows resting on the table and fingers steepled, Boone was quiet for a moment. In that suit and those glasses, he looked almost … studious. Quite a different picture from the time he’d appeared at her door in shredded jeans and a shirt with the sleeves hacked off.
“Then, unless you or Brad object, I’d like for him to be with me that night.”
On the surface, it sounded like a sweet offer, but Nixie couldn’t allow it if he was doing it out of pity. Worse, what if Brad mistakenly read something into the situation?
What if he became dependent on Boone as a father figure of sorts? She couldn’t allow her son to be hurt. In the short time he’d known Boone, Brad already seemed to idolize him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
From the way he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, Nixie knew her comment had been carelessly blunt. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but she couldn’t allow her child to be hurt, either.
“Fine, but if you can’t find someone else, my offer still stands. Brad’s a Cub Scout now, Nixie, and I expect him to be there and participate fully, come hell or high water … or rescue squad publicity event.”
His meaning was clear. He was warning her not to plan her media event for that day and use it as an excuse not to attend the camporee. But he should know by now that he could no longer tease, cajole, or even threaten her into bending to his will.
Boone Shelton had always managed to pop into her life at the most inconvenient times—such as the time he ruined her date with Craig Curtis, the high school hunk—and he never failed to create turmoil with her well-laid plans.
Well, this time he wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t let him. Although Nixie was happy that Brad had found a friend in Boone and that the Scout leader encouraged him to act more responsibly, she was leery of Boone’s intrusion into their lives. After all, he was encouraging her son to participate in new and risky activities. Her worst fear was that something terrible might happen to one of her children.
Tonight was Friday, and Boone wasn’t expected to come to the house until next Wednesday, when he picked up Brad for the weekly den meeting. Maybe by then she’d come up with a way to discourage her son—her baby—from going on the camporee. He was so small and vulnerable, and he needed to be protected from Boone’s good intentions.
Boone stood and walked around to her chair. He offered her a hand up to escort her from the restaurant and flashed a warm smile that threatened to melt her resolve.
A frightening thought flitted through her mind. Who would protect her from Boone and his good intentions?
The next morning Nixie was still wondering at her reaction to Boone when he’d stood on her front porch and said good night. For what must have been one of the most insane moments of her life, she’d found herself wishing he would kiss her.
Instead, Uncle Jay had switched on the porch light and peeked out through one of the three small windowpanes in the door. Even if Boone had been inclined to kiss her, Nixie was certain that the sight of her grinning uncle would have been enough to squelch the notion.
She hadn’t slept well and chose to blame her restlessness on the rich food she’d eaten at dinner. When she awoke early to the sound of water gurgling down the rainspout and thunder clapping in the distance, she got up and pitched her fitful energy into Saturday morning chores.
Brad dragged a broom from the utility room and started pushing it ineffectually around the dining room.
As Bethany passed him with a dust rag in her hand, Nixie heard her grumble, “Do you think Mom was a drill sergeant in a former life?”
Brad nodded his agreement.
She had been working them hard this morning. But, as her parents had taught her and her brother, a little hard work never hurt anyone. Besides, once they were finished, they’d have the rest of the day to play. Nixie opened the dishwasher and started putting the clean dishes away. With a little smile, she ordered, “No talking in the ranks.”
They obediently went about their work. A few minutes later, Bethany came rushing into the kitchen. “Mom, there’s a man in the bushes out front!”
Nixie put the last cup in the cabinet. “Honey, it’s pouring outside. I don’t think—” One look at her daughter’s panicked face assured her that Bethany had seen something. “It’s probably just a neighbor’s dog,” she said. “Show me where you saw it.”
Bethany pulled back the curtain. See? He’s down on all fours, and his shoes are sticking out from under the bush.”
“Want me to get the gun?” Brad shouted.
“We don’t have a gun. Go get your baseball bat.”
The figure slowly backed out from under the bush. When he rose, Nixie could see that he was tall, even though he stood hunched against the rain. Through the downpour, it looked as though he were hiding something under his jacket. He turned and started toward the house.
By now Bethany was in a panic. “I’m going to call Uncle Jay. He’ll know what to do.”
Brad returned with the baseball bat. “I’m going to go out the back door, sneak up on him, and bash him over the head!” He swung the bat for emphasis and almost knocked over a lamp.
“No!” Nixie took the bat from her son. “Go make sure the door is locked. Bethany, get off the phone in case we need to call the police.”
“Uncle Jay’s not home! What if that man tries to kill us?”
“Bethany, get a grip,” Nixie urged. “Try to set a good example for Brad.”
Brad, by now, was unlocking the front door. He pulled it open and rushed out into the rain toward the stranger.
“Brad!” Nixie raced after him, the bat clutched tightly in her hand.
Just as her son reached him, the man looked up, his smiling blue eyes shining through the rain.
“Kind of wet for a ball game, don’t you think?”
Nixie’s emotions warred between relief and indignation. “Boone, you almost scared the life out of us! What are you doing skulking around in my yard?”
“Getting wet.” He opened one side of his jacket and enveloped Brad in the way a hen would protect a chick with her wing. “Why don’t we talk inside where it’s more comfortable?”
Once inside, there was no opportunity for her to lay into him as she’d intended. There were towels to fetch and muddy shoes to contend with. And just when she was about to give Boone a piece of her mind, he removed a soggy bundle of brown fluff from inside his jacket and placed it on the floor.
The animal was so soiled and matted she could hardly tell what it was until it meowed. “Oh, my,” said Nixie. “It’s that stray cat that’s been hanging around here for the past week. We tried to catch it, but it was always too quick for us.”
Boone took a dry towel and wrapped it around the squirming kitten. “I saw it limping toward the bush when I drove up.”
“Mom, its leg is hurt,” said Bethany. “Look, it’s bleeding.”
Nixie sighed and got up to retrieve the first aid kit. “Don’t get too attached to it,” she told the kids. “We don’t have room for another animal.”
At their groans, Nixie realized the kitten would be easier to remove from their lives than the two-legged animal that had brought it in.
A short while later, its brown fur dried and the minor wound on its leg tended, the kitten slept in a cardboard box lined with an old blanket.
Nixie looked over at the big man who dominated her couch. Though he was older now and small lines marked the corners of his eyes, he was still protecting those smaller than himself.
Boone watched with interest as she repacked the antibiotic cream in the carrying case and snapped the lid shut. “Why do you keep clean underwear in your first aid kit?”
Nixie smiled at the reminder of her son’s goofy sense of humor. “Brad put them there in case he gets hurt and has to go to the hospital.”
Boone turned to Brad and nudged the boy with his elbow. “Did you get tired of your mom’s lectures?”
Brad gave his new pal a beleaguered look that said more clearly than words, “Women!”
Although she was the subject of their shared joke, Nixie was glad to see that her mischievous son admired such a solid, stable role model as Boone. Even though Boone was somewhat pushy about urging her to let Brad become more involved in Scouting, it was clear that his intentions were good and that he could be a positive influence on a boy.
Remembering their conversation of last night, she wondered if he had come to pressure her into letting Brad go on the camporee. Due to her lack of sleep last night, she doubted her sluggish mind could quickly come up with a reasonable excuse to keep the boy home, where he’d be safe.
“Your ears must be bionic if you heard that cat’s distress call all the way from your apartment,” Nixie told him.
“Actually,” he said, brandishing two envelopes, “I came to deliver these. Forgot to give them to Bethany and Brad yesterday,” he added.
“Letters?” Bethany stopped rubbing the kitten and stepped closer to Boone.
“Somebody answered our ad!” Brad crowed.
Nixie shot Boone a look that should have withered his socks, but he just grinned back at her.
She had to give him credit, though. Before he let them open the envelopes, he talked about how they shouldn’t get their hopes up if someone sounded good in a letter, and they shouldn’t be discouraged if the respondents weren’t suitable.
“There are all kinds of people out there,” he told them. “And you take a risk when you ask them to correspond with you.”
“I’m going in the other room,” Nixie announced. “I want nothing to do with this.” Nevertheless, she found herself loitering near the archway leading into the living room where she could hear all that was said.
“She’ll come around,” Brad said. “All we gotta do is find her a good one.”
Boone moved over so there was room for a child to sit on either side of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nixie making a pretense of wiping fingerprints off the wall.
“Okay,” he told the kids, “let’s see what this one says.” He unfolded the letter, and they read it together.
I don’t write good but if you wud call me I wil tell you all abot myself.
A phone number was included under the sloppily scrawled signature.
“What do you think?” he asked them.
Bethany was quick to offer her opinion. “No.”
Brad shrugged. “He can’t spell, but maybe he’s a nice person.”
“He’s not the one for us.” Bethany was insistent. “How could he help us with our homework? And I don’t think Mom would go for him because she’d want someone who reads a lot. People who read usually spell better than people who don’t read.”
“Good point,” said Boone. He balled up the letter.
“What about the other one?” Brad asked.
“This one sounds better,” Boone told them. He unfolded the letter and read it aloud so Nixie could hear.
I was interested in your advertisement because I’m very lonely and want to share in the love of a close family relationship. Realizing that no one is perfect, I would accept you just as you are. I ask only that you afford me the same courtesy. I believe family members should talk to each other every day, and I look forward to planning some wonderful family activities with you. Please write soon. If you don’t, I’ll be patient. I have plenty of time.
Brad grabbed the letter. “Hey, he sounds pretty good.”
Boone noticed that Nixie had stopped what she was doing to listen.
Bethany was looking at the return address on the envelope. “What does 1988476 mean?”
Boone studied the envelope a moment. “That’s his prison number.”
“Boone, may I speak with you in here?” Nixie thrummed her fingers on the wall she’d just wiped down.
When he came into the dining room, Nixie had to tilt her head back to look up at him. That didn’t keep her from shaking a finger at him as if he were one of her own children. “That’s exactly why I didn’t want them to go through with this foolishness!”
“Don’t worry, Nix.” Boone clasped her hand and curled her index finger down with the rest. “Your kids are smart enough not to get you hooked up with a felon.”
“How do you know he’s a felon?”
“Return address,” he replied. “He’s in the maximum security unit.”
“Oh, good grief!”
Quietly, so that only she could hear, he leaned closer and murmured in her ear, “Wouldn’t it be simpler to forget about finding a stranger to fill the position and start looking at candidates you know?”
Nixie almost stopped breathing. Was he recommending himself? Or was it just wishful thinking on her part? She had to get a grip on herself. Maybe Aunt Lauren was right … maybe she’d been too long without a man in her life. Maybe, too, she was subconsciously trying to fill that void with someone safe and familiar.
He was certainly familiar, but Nixie doubted she was safe around him. For all she knew, his comment could have been another teasing joke. Well, she’d play along.
“Yes, you’re probably right,” she admitted. “Let’s see, there’s old Mr. Finch who cleans our offices every week. Why, did you know he’s expecting his fourteenth grandchild next month? Such a dear man. And so lonely since his Clara passed away.”
She casually rubbed another fingerprint from the wall. He was playing hardball, refusing to grant her even a glimmer of a smile as he pretended to believe her.
“Then there’s always Markey Evans down the block,” she continued. “He’s only sixteen, but I hear he has incredible buns.”
“Mom!” cried Bethany. “You don’t have to go and tell everyone what I said.”
Precious, who had earlier run terrorized from the room when Brad had pretended to “sweep” her with the broom, now returned and noticed the little brown furball trying to climb out of its box. Though normally timid, the older cat crept closer to the box, hissed loudly, and took a swat at the tiny intruder.
All four humans leaped to the kitten’s defense, and Precious was quickly banished to the utility room. Bethany was visibly shaken by her pet’s uncharacteristic display of hostility.
“Precious is usually so sweet. Why would she try to hurt that innocent little kitten?”
Nixie put an arm around her daughter. “I’m sure she wasn’t trying to hurt the kitten. She was just trying to protect her domain.”
“Her domain?”
“Yes. Her turf. Precious considers this house her own. And when a new animal comes in, it feels like that animal is invading her territory.”
“It’s my fault,” said Boone. “I shouldn’t have brought it in here. I’ll take it to the pound when I leave. Since it’s so young, maybe someone will adopt it.”
“And maybe they won’t,” Bethany declared.
Brad grabbed Boone’s arm. “Why don’t you take it home with you?”
Nixie tried to imagine the kitten living in that stark bachelor apartment. It would be alone all day while Boone worked. And Boone probably worked overtime occasionally, not to mention the time that he spent with the Scouts.
Boone slowly shook his head. “Sorry, pal. It just wouldn’t work out.”
Pushing aside her earlier comment about not having enough room for another animal, Nixie impulsively blurted out, “It’s going to need medical attention until that leg heals. We may as well let it stay here so I can keep an eye on it.”
The kids exploded with cheers, and Boone shot her his familiar teasing grin. “You always were a soft touch,” he said.
He was grinning, but the way he said it made her think about soft touches … his soft touches on her heated body. If she weren’t careful, he’d have her blushing like the shy teenager she used to be.
“I guess I’ll let y’all get back to your housework,” he said, heading for the door. His hand on the knob, he stopped and turned to Brad. “I expect to see you at the family camporee next weekend.”
For the next week, Brad could talk of nothing else. Nixie had reluctantly agreed to let him go, but she frequently quizzed him with what-if scenarios to prepare him for an emergency. By the end of the week, she’d taught him what to do in case he got bitten by a snake, lost in the woods, cut, or otherwise injured. Still not satisfied, she came up with several uncommon scenarios so he’d be prepared for those, too.
At Nixie’s urging, Brad asked Jay to accompany him on the campout, but the older man declined, saying his bad back needed the comfort of his bed at home.
She thought of asking her younger brother to spend the weekend with Brad, but Ryan’s wife was due to deliver their first child at any time.
Brad settled the issue after returning home from his weekly den meeting. Nixie smiled at her son in his navy-blue uniform. He was so proud of being a Scout, he’d started wearing it to school on the day of the meeting, claiming he didn’t have enough time to change after school. He wouldn’t even hold Tarzan on meeting days for fear the bird might damage or soil the shirt.
“Mom, guess what?” he said and slammed his Scout manual down on the kitchen table before raiding the cookie jar. “I asked Boone to be my dad for the weekend when we go camping.”
Nixie stiffened. This was just what she had feared would happen. Brad had often said he wished he had a father like other kids did. He’d even pretended sometimes that Jay was his father.
What if her son transferred his need for a strong male figure to Boone? He had moved away from Bliss once. He could do it again.
“What did Boone say?” Nixie prompted, praying he’d had the foresight not to build up the boy’s hopes.
Brad shrugged and munched his cookie. “He said no one could take the place of my real dad, but that he would be my mentor—whatever that is.”
Nixie’s heart lodged in her throat. Boone hadn’t changed a bit. After he’d antagonized her until she thought she could stand it no more, he would do something endearing like this. She supposed that was the only reason they’d managed to maintain a semblance of friendship during their school years.
“Can I take Tarzan with me on the camping trip?”
“Absolutely not.”
One out-of-control family member on the trip was more than enough. Even so, she grinned at the image of all the trouble both Brad and Tarzan could scheme up for Boone.