Texas Strong (4 page)

“Speaking of food, shall we go back to the cafe and tell Mr. Howard we love his house?”

“Yes!” her children cried, and raced outside.

Chrissy followed, only to see them struck silent as a big man towered over them. Deputy Patton. As she closed the door, his gaze lifted to her.

“Mom?” said Thad, sounding very small. “Are we in trouble?”

“Of course not. We’re not doing anything wrong,” she answered, speaking as much to the big man in the cowboy hat with the gun on his hip and the badge on his shirt. “Right, Deputy?”

“Arnie knows you’re here?” Tank asked.

“He’s letting us move in.” She’d been predisposed to give him the benefit of the doubt earlier, but he looked so fierce now, and her children were frightened. She stepped between them and him. “Is there a problem?”

His gaze arrowed in on her. “I guess not. It’s part of my job.”

“Frightening small children?” He might be fearsomely big, but no one harmed her kids. Not ever again. Maybe she’d been wrong about this man, too. Seen only what she wanted to see.

Then there it was again, that deep loneliness. Blue eyes locked on hers. “No. I don’t want them afraid of me.” In a surprising move, he stepped around her and hunkered down before her kids. “I’m Deputy Sheriff Patton. You’re not in trouble. I was only trying to protect Mr. Howard’s property. It’s been vacant for awhile.” His voice was rusty, as if he didn’t speak to anyone often.

Even crouched on the heels of his boots, he towered over Thad, and Becky was at his eye level. “We haven’t been introduced.”

Thad stuck out his hand, ever the adventurer. “I’m Thad Daniels.”

“That short for Theodore?” the man asked.

“Yeah. I mean, yes sir.”

“Fine manners, son. People call me Tank, but Theodore is my name, too. Pleased to meet you, Thad.”

“Theodore, really?” Thad frowned. “I never met another Theodore. So why do they call you Tank? ’Cause you’re so huge, like an army tank?”

“Thad!” Chrissy chided.

But to her amazement, a surprisingly beautiful smile cracked Tank’s face. “Pretty much.” He glanced up at her from under the brim of his hat. “It’s okay.”

With light in those blue eyes and a smile curving his lips, he went far beyond rugged and into downright handsome. She couldn’t help smiling back. “Thad isn’t likely to be a diplomat when he grows up.”

Tank turned back to her son. “I admire a man who speaks his mind. Too many people talk out of both sides of their mouths.”

Thad’s forehead wrinkled. “How can you do that? Is the middle closed and the two sides…” He attempted to demonstrate.

“Thad…” Becky rolled her eyes.

“It’s an expression,” Tank explained gently. “It means someone who says whatever he thinks the listener wants to hear. You can’t trust someone like that.” Then he turned to Becky. “You’re Thad’s big sister?”

She nodded. “I’m Becky, short for Rebecca.”

Tank extended his hand again. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Becky. So you’re moving in here?”

“I even get my own room, and so does Thad. We don’t have any friends here, though.”

“How old are you?” he asked.

“I’m eight, and Thad is six.”

“I have twin nieces a little younger than you, Abby and Beth. And their Aunt Rissa has a son who’s a little older than Thad.”

“Would you take us to meet them?” Thad asked.

Immediately Tank looked uncomfortable.

“Thad!” Chrissy admonished. “That’s not polite to ask. I apologize,” she said to Tank.

He rose to his feet. “It’s okay. But…that’s not a good idea. Better talk to Rissa or Veronica yourself.” He glanced at her with an expression she couldn’t understand. “I have to get back to work. Hope you’ll enjoy your new house.” He tipped his hat to them, got back into his big Sheriff’s Dept. SUV and drove off.

They watched him go, then her children looked at her, clearly as confused as she was. “Mommy?” Becky asked. “Do you know Rissa or Veronica?”

She stared at the vehicle already growing small in the distance, one more puzzle to add to the mystery of the man.

“Mommy?”

She tore her gaze away. “I’ve barely met Veronica, but she seems very nice. They’re related to Ruby, so I’ll talk to her. Right now, I have to get back and talk to Mr. Howard about our beautiful new house.” She smiled at her children and took one last look back. “We’re going to be happy here, don’t you think?” Sometimes you had to make your own happiness, and this would be a good start.

“How soon can we move in?” Becky asked.

“We’ll know that in just a few minutes. Everybody in the car, okay?”

Becky got into her side of the back seat of the cranky old SUV Chrissy prayed would last another few thousand miles, but Thad hesitated.

“You okay, Thaddy?”

“I don’t think he’s a scary man, do you, Mom?”

“I don’t.” She hoped.

“His name is Theodore, too. Isn’t that amazing?”

She brushed her hand over the top of his head. “Pretty amazing.”

“We could be Big Theo and Little Theo. Will we see him again?”

Chrissy grinned, wondering what the deputy would think about that. “Would you like to?”

Thad’s mop of carrot-red hair bobbed wildly with his enthusiastic nod, and she reminded herself that he needed a haircut sooner rather than later.

She wasn’t sure if Tank Patton was scary. Her instincts said no, but her instincts had failed her before, so she settled for the noncommittal response. “Sweetgrass Springs is very small, so I expect we’ll see everyone now and again.”

The answer seemed to satisfy her son for now.

“Up you go,” she said, opening the car door.

She glanced back at her new home one more time.

And smiled.

Chapter Three

K
itchen closed until further notice
, read the note propped on the counter beneath the telephone.
The cook ran off to join the circus
.

Jake Cameron squinted and read it again as he groped for a mug to fill with lifesaving coffee—

Which…wasn’t there. The carafe was empty of all but sludge.

“Laura?” The house had a different feel without her in it—too still, somehow. Sterile and cold, robbed of her unbounded energy.

He glanced out the window and saw Puddin’ sniffing around. Though the dog was nominally his, Laura was the one who babied the old guy. If she had really run away, she’d have Puddin’ with her.

Jake grinned sleepily, shrugged and began assembling the makings for a fresh pot. She was pulling his leg, of course, but Laura’s mischief went down better after his brain was clicking.

The filters took a while to hunt down. When was the last time he’d had to make coffee? She was always up before him. He muttered a little before he finally located them. Now, was it one extra scoop for the pot or—

He gave up, shoulders drooping. He craved caffeine, tanker loads of it. Now. Last night had been a long one, with an emergency surgery lasting until nearly two a.m.
Okay, you can do this
. He dumped two extra scoops for good measure, then shuffled off to hit the shower while the coffee was brewing. On the way, he passed the dining room—

Oh, hell. Their special day. He’d missed it. No wonder Laura had sounded funny when he’d phoned her to say not to wait up.

Man…everything still sat there—wilted salad, melting dessert. His favorite pot roast petrified in congealed grease. Laura liked her house in order; she wasn’t one to leave dishes soaking in the sink, much less food going bad on the table.

He was in deep doo, no question. This date was sacred, the anniversary not of their wedding but of the night they’d first made love. Our Day, they’d named it. For twenty-six years, the tradition had been special to them both. Even during the tumultuous child-raising years they’d never missed it.

He could plead the press of work, which was admittedly crushing since he’d switched to the trauma team. He was so tired half the time he could barely remember his name.

His colleagues thought he was crazy to leave a solid private practice, but he loved this work. Medicine interested him now in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

Not more than Laura, though.

Kitchen closed
. Suddenly the note wasn’t quite as funny. Laura was such a gifted cook that friends had often urged her to open a restaurant or catering service. She might not be kidding, and for her to shut down her beloved kitchen…not good. He had some serious amends to make. He’d have to go the distance to dig himself out of this hole.

As soon as he showered, he’d get busy cleaning up the dining room as a gesture of good faith. Laura would be home soon, surely, and he’d apologize like crazy, then—

Upstairs, he heard his phone go off with the ER ringtone and groaned. He was on call. Not a chance he could ignore it. He cast another glance at the mess, painfully aware that he barely had time to throw on clothes.

Not good. Really not good.

But Laura loved him. He loved her.

It would all work out.

At the head of the jogging trail, Laura bent to tighten her shoelaces. Tried to focus on anything but Jake’s absence and what that meant. Once they had been everything to each other; they’d had high hopes for their life together. So many dreams and plans.

One of those, recited like a mantra to each other during the years of surviving the raising of teenagers, had been what life would be like when they were alone again.

Late mornings in bed. Long, lazy breakfasts, swapping sections of the paper. Time for travel, and most of all, to simply be with each other, relishing that while other relationships around them fell apart, they were more in love than ever.

Dreams now little more than vapor.

And Laura was getting truly scared.

Missing Our Day was a shocking example, yes, but only one of many illustrating how far they’d drifted apart. Worse, Jake didn’t seem to see what he was doing to himself. To them.

What he was risking.

She’d begged Jake not to work so hard, but she might as well have saved her voice. He didn’t realize how often he slept on the couch because he’d gotten in late and didn’t want to disturb her. Or was simply so tired he couldn’t manage one more step, much less muster the energy to undress.

For years, they’d spent every night tangled together, unwilling to be more than a breath apart.

But no longer. She was reduced to cuddling his pillow, breathing in what was left of his scent as she struggled to fall asleep alone too many nights.

It wasn’t as though she couldn’t entertain herself or didn’t have her own interests—she had plenty of them. But throughout all the demands on both their time, there had always been a special corner of their lives they’d held inviolate. A space inhabited only by the two of them, a refuge where they shared hopes and disappointments, encouraged and healed each other, relived precious and very private memories. One of those was Our Day, their most sacred tradition.

If Jake could forget Our Day, they were in deeper trouble than she’d realized.

A date with her husband, an evening to reconnect, would have done wonders to settle her. To make the future seem less ominous.

It shouldn’t be—they had so much going for them. Two of the kids were still in college—Zack already out, thank heavens—but their finances were solid, and the house was paid for. Gabe would be out of school in May and Carla the next year, so it was nearly their turn to fly, hers and Jake’s. They’d spent years looking forward to this time alone while they were still healthy and able.

But she’d married a latent adrenaline junkie, best she could tell. She stretched her quads, then slid into moves to do the same for her hamstrings.

Not that the signs hadn’t been there, if only she’d recognized them. Diving off cliffs in Acapulco on their honeymoon. Bungee-jumping for his thirtieth birthday.

He’d been a resident when they met; she’d been a bookstore clerk, one of a procession of forgettable jobs she’d held since she was fourteen. She’d always worked hard but never with a clear career path in mind. She’d continued to work until she’d gotten pregnant, helping to whittle away at the mountain of student loans that had come along with Jake.