Claire leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on her burning-hot face. Tears stung in her eyes, her humiliation only worse because Joe and Amelia had witnessed it. And to be clear, she wasn’t mad at herself for putting Roy in his place. However, she had lost her temper, and for that, she was very sorry.
A knock sounded at the door. She took a deep breath and turned the water off at the sink. Maybe he would go away if she didn’t answer the door. Maybe, but that would make her even more of a coward. She swung the door open and he stood there, an apologetic look on his face.
Joe cleared his throat. “Can I come in for a glass of water? I’m still not sure the pipes are working at the cabin.”
He was so handsome and so sweet and something eased in her chest that he would even care. Wordlessly, she pushed the door wider open to accommodate his frame.
Grabbing a plastic cup from a bag on the counter, he filled it with tap water and stared into it for a minute. “It’s probably not about you. This thing with Roy—he’s not a fan of change.”
Her breath was a rush of expelled air and he turned back to her.
She ran a hand through her hair and more of it tumbled out of the band she’d had holding it back. Frustrated, she jerked the band out and shook her hair free. “He said to me, ‘You’re stupid if you think people can change. Trash stays trash.’”
The brutal words were like a slap, even though she’d heard them just moments ago. Joe didn’t speak for a minute, then pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat in it. “He’s angry. And maybe he’s not happy with what’s going on here in general, but that comment, that was directed at me. He arrested me back when I was in middle school. I asked for a glass of water from the waitress at the Hilltop, and when she wasn’t looking, I took a Danish from the platter on the counter.”
Her mouth dropped open. He had to be kidding. “He arrested you for that? What were you, nine or ten?”
He nodded and she shook her head. “What a jerk. You were hungry.”
“He said he had to teach me a lesson.” Joe shrugged, the expression on his face carefully blank. “It didn’t stop me from stealing. Nothing did, until Frank and Bertie took me in. It was their love and support—and food—that made the difference.”
“I can’t believe him.”
“He doesn’t like me. I really do think he believes that people can’t change.” He tilted the water cup and looked in it again as if some secret to human behavior would be found there. She wished it was that easy. “He doesn’t think about the experience that I have as a cop, or on the regional crisis response team, or even in the military. All he sees is that kid who used to steal.”
She closed her eyes, her words flooding her mind, her face going hot again. “I shouldn’t have said that about a house full of juvenile delinquents. They’re not. I was just so angry.”
When she opened her eyes again, he was looking at her with understanding. “I’ll talk to him. And maybe he won’t do anything.”
“You think?”
“You never know.” His words were hopeful, but his face told a different story.
She grabbed a napkin from the table and held it over her eyes, slumping back in a chair. “My mouth always gets me into trouble.”
“Claire, Amelia and I can stay with my mom instead of moving into the cabin. There’s no reason to bring this thing with Roy to your door.”
She whipped the napkin off her face. “Don’t you dare let that bully keep you from doing the right thing for your family. Amelia loves it here and we’re going to make sure she gets to stay.”
“Speaking of, our future veterinarian went to check on the kittens. Maybe we should check on her.” He stood up and tossed his now empty cup into the trash can.
“Baby animals do cheer me up.” She grinned and held out her hand. He grabbed it, hauling her to her feet. “Thanks, Joe.”
As she followed him out the back door to the barn, she realized that her passion for kids and for justice was what made her happy and fulfilled. It was what made her...her. But it was also her biggest weakness.
A weakness that Roy wouldn’t hesitate to capitalize on.
* * *
Amelia bounced in the vinyl seat next to Claire a few days later. “I’m starving. I want blueberry pancakes.”
“Me, too.” Claire grinned and shot Amelia a look out of the corner of her eye. “When I ate yours the other day, they were the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted in my life. Just the perfect ratio of blueberries to batter. I don’t know how any other pancakes could ever compare to those. They were perfect.”
“You’re kinda mean, Claire.” Joe sipped his coffee.
She sighed. “Yeah, and that satisfied feeling will be even better chased with a short stack.”
Amelia rolled her eyes but grinned, taking the ribbing in stride. The difference in her face and actions, even in just a few days, was amazing.
Lanna stopped by their table with her tray and coffeepot. “Hey, folks, what’s for breakfast?”
“I’d like blueberry pancakes, please.” Amelia spoke up first and Lanna’s eyes widened.
“Okay, blueberry pancakes coming up.” The waitress nodded at Joe. “What’ll it be, Joe?”
“The same for me except with a side of bacon.”
Claire looked up from the menu. “Me, too.”
Lanna took the menus and tucked them under her arm. “Refill?”
Claire smiled up at her. “Not yet, thanks, though.”
As Lanna walked away, Claire caught sight of a poster on the bulletin board beside the door to the kitchen. She couldn’t see it all, but it said something about a town council meeting. She slid out of the booth, and as she got closer, the words came into focus: Emergency Town Meeting. Help defend Red Hill Springs from juvenile delinquents and criminals. 7 p.m. Library Community Room.
Defend Red Hill Springs from what? This had to be the doing of Roy Willis. He’d said she would be sorry. She guessed this was his way of firing the first shot.
If so, it was a pretty good one. Years ago, she’d learned to quiet the voices in her head, the ones that said, You’re not good enough. You don’t have what it takes. Why do you even try? Those old insecurities were only a murmur in her adult life, replaced with a hard-won belief that she was a child of God and worthy of love for that reason alone.
She rubbed the scars in the crook of her elbow, the lines where she had cut into her skin with a razor blade as a young teenager. The voice of insecurity had been really loud then. Roy’s actions brought those old feelings of desperation and shame welling to the surface.
Bertie walked up behind her and put her hand on Claire’s back. “Your food’s ready, honey. I’ll be there tonight, but not for Roy. I thought about tearing that sign down, but I think we need to handle this now.”
“You think people don’t want me here?” Her voice was small and she hated it.
“No,” Bertie frowned. “But people are talking. Roy has them all stirred up. Come on now, eat your breakfast. You gotta have fuel if you’re gonna take down a bully like Roy Willis.”
“I’m not going to let him win, Bertie.”
“I know, sweetie.”
As Claire got back to the table, Joe took one look at her face and put his fork down. “What’s going on?”
People in the other booths were starting to stare and she didn’t want to make a scene. She lowered her voice and said, “Roy’s apparently gotten the town council to hold an emergency meeting tonight. He’s telling people we’re a threat to the town’s safety.”
Joe’s jaw set in a hard line. Amelia’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. “What does that mean? What’s going on?”
“Just a bully throwing his weight around.” Claire heard the words she said to Amelia, words that echoed Bertie’s. Roy was a bully. And he was trying to intimidate her to make himself look better.
Joe picked up his fork to take a bite and ended up pushing his pancakes to the side. “I take full responsibility for this. I’ll deal with Roy.”
“This is not your fault, Joe.”
“Hard not to take it that way when someone is using you to get to me.” He leaned back in the booth and picked up his coffee cup.
“He’s so consumed by himself that he doesn’t realize he’s not hurting you or me.” Slowly, the fear she felt was becoming anger. She shook her head and took a vicious bite out of a piece of bacon. “He’s hurting children because of his own agenda. And that’s the worst part. It’s important to fight for what’s right, even when it’s hard.”
“I know sometimes the right thing isn’t the most popular thing to do,” Amelia said around a mouthful of blueberry pancake. She used the back of her sleeve to wipe syrup off her chin.
“Exactly.” Joe handed her a napkin. “You can’t give in to someone who wants to do the wrong thing just because you want to get along. Remember that when someone wants you to drink or smoke pot.”
His daughter rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, Joe. I’d like to actually have a life one day.”
A bell rang in the distance. Amelia sighed and shoved one last bite of pancake into her mouth. “Gotta go.”
Claire let her out of the bench seat and then slid back in across from Joe. “She’s smart. With some time and consistency, I really think she’s going to be fine.”
“I hope so.”
Lanna refilled Joe’s cup. “She’s a good kid, Chief. She just needs a dad, and she has a good one.”
Joe laughed. “I’m glad y’all are confident in my parenting skills.”
Claire took one more sip of coffee and dug some money out of her pocket, placing it on the table. “I’ve got to go, too. The painters are supposed to be back at my place by nine.”
“I’ll be out there to work on the cabin and Mom will bring Amelia by to feed Freckles and Tinkerbell after school.”
“Joe, you need to think seriously about whether you want to align yourself with me on this. Your family is here.”
He dumped some sugar in his cup and stirred. “No, I don’t. I knew there would be some eyebrows raised about turning Red Hill Farm into a foster home. That doesn’t mean it isn’t the right thing to do.”
She smiled, but inside she worried about how this would affect the reputation that he was trying so hard to rebuild. Maybe it was that old insecurity telling her she didn’t deserve an ally and friend. “I’ll see you later, then.”
As she walked away, her smile faded. It was one thing to be willing to fight for what was right.
It was another to actually survive the battle.
* * *
Joe rolled the soft blue paint that Amelia had picked out for the living room onto the wall. The sting in his shoulder reminded him that he’d been shot a few months ago. That he missed his job. Missed his team.
It hadn’t escaped his notice that he was building a home and a life here while he was longing to be back in his old life.
A splash and a scream echoed off the main house. He ran toward the spring-fed pond as Claire surfaced, spluttering and laughing. He had to grin as she did a backstroke across the pond. “So it’s a little chilly?”
She lifted her head and smiled at him. “Yeah, slightly!”
“You decided to swim in your clothes?”
“No.” She laughed. “I was on my way down here to bring you a Gatorade and I thought, it may be October, but it’s really hot, I should take a swim.”
“Sounds like good reasoning to me.”
“Come on in.”
There were about a million reasons he shouldn’t. But her eyes were shining. And that was the one reason he should. Maybe jumping into the water without a care for how cold or how weird or even whether it might look foolish was the way to joy. And he’d already established that he needed more joy.
He stood there another minute, watching the water slide off her dark hair into the clear blue pond.
“It’s amazing,” she said, treading water. “Come on.”
He kicked off his running shoes and started for the edge.
“Don’t go slow. If you think about it too much, you’ll chicken out.”
He put one foot in the water and gave her his best you’ve got to be kidding me look.
Laughing, she splashed him. “Man up. It’s just a little cold water.”
Joe took a deep breath and dived in, surfacing beside her, gasping when shock took his breath away. For a split second, he was in an alley on the waterfront, staring at the sky, trying to suck in oxygen and failing. Deliberately, with slow deep breaths, he focused on the present. The bright blue October sky. The warmth from the Indian summer sun. He wasn’t dying. He was very much alive.
“You okay?” Her perceptive gaze seemed to see right through any walls he put up.
“Yeah, fine.” He lay back and let the cool water soothe his ragged edges, the ones where he wondered if this in-between time would ever end.
“Sometimes when there’s so much going on, I have to stop and take a minute to remember why I’m doing...what I’m doing.” Her voice broke through his thoughts and the quiet lapping of the pond.
“I got shot.” The words strangled out.
“I know.” Claire straightened and he knew she was looking at him, but he couldn’t look her in the eyes.
“I’ve been injured before. I know how to come back from it. I’m just tired.”
She didn’t say anything and he closed his eyes. He shouldn’t have said anything. She had so much on her mind and didn’t deserve—
“I’m not sure this will make you feel better, but it’s absolutely normal, what you are feeling. It’s normal to feel anxiety, about being shot and about the future, to wonder if you’ll ever get your mojo back, so to speak.”
Her quiet words washed over him like the lapping waters of the pond.
“It’s normal to feel isolated. It’s normal to feel depressed. Normal to feel vulnerable. And it’s very normal for those feelings to freak you out if you’re not used to feeling them.”
His eyes searched her face. There was no hint of judgment. “Thanks.”
“You’ve had a lot to deal with. Any of the things that have happened to you would leave you reeling. Give yourself some time.”
“I keep hearing that.” Maybe at some point it would sink in. And he desperately wanted to change the subject. “Are you worried about the meeting?”
“Yes. I think I came down here hoping you would distract me. I have so much to do and what I keep doing is stewing.”
“Don’t give up. I don’t know if you’re that good with all kids or if it was just a special connection with Amelia, but if it wasn’t for you, we’d still be deadlocked in the silent treatment with a plate of blueberry pancakes between us.”
She smiled, but her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “I’m not giving up. But thank you. I needed the reminder of why it’s so important.”
“I have the feeling that you’re too stubborn to give up anyway.” The tense moment was gone, thank goodness. He knew the trauma of being shot would surface again, but for now he’d gotten through it.
She laughed again and splashed the cold water in his face. “Oh, you do know how to sweet-talk me, Joe Sheehan. Let’s do this again. Same time tomorrow?”
“If you promise to resuscitate me when my heart stops from the cold.” He started swishing through the water toward the bank.
“That’s what friends are for.” She clambered out of the pond behind him.
As he watched her walk back to the house dripping a trail of water behind, the thought crossed his mind that he really liked her and he hadn’t felt that way in a long time. The doors to his heart, so to speak, had been firmly closed. His past—his job—kept him at arm’s length from other people. Seemed now there was just a crack in the door, enough to think...maybe.
But no matter how wide the crack was, there was too much—way too much—uncertainty in both their lives to add to it right now.
Claire turned and waved from the back stairs before disappearing into the house. He chuckled to himself.
She just had a way.
He sighed and got to his feet. Amelia would be here soon to feed the animals and then they were all going to the town meeting. Roy Willis wasn’t one to back down from a stance he believed in, no matter how wrong it might be. Joe had a feeling Claire was in for the fight of her life.