The Soldier and the Single Mom Page 6

  “She wasn’t saying it to make an impression. She was talking to a friend.”

  “And...there’s nothing illegal about shipping a car. But if she doesn’t have the registration or title or some identifying paperwork, no legitimate shipper will take it on.”

  “So we could just wait and see. If she’s able to ship the car, that means she’s got the rights to it.”

  “Or something.” Dion frowned. “Tell you what. I’ll do a little digging, but I’m not going to bring a lady in for wanting to ship a car. What I am going to do is to keep a pretty close eye on her.”

  Buck nodded. Dion had to do his job. And thinking of that reminded him of the photo he’d taken. “Look at this,” he said as he pulled out his phone and brought up the image. “Zoom in on the baby’s leg.”

  Dion’s eyebrows rose. “Is that a bruise?”

  Buck nodded and held up a hand. “After seeing her with the baby, there’s no way she could be at fault. She’s very protective of him. Protective like someone who’s escaping an abuser, not someone who’s an abuser herself.”

  Dion’s brows drew together. “Maybe.”

  “Give her a chance,” Buck said. “She could be a new creation, too.”

  “Touché, my man. But my job is to clean up the messes people make along the way.” He leveled a pointed gaze at Buck. “And your job is to stay sober and help your sister. Not to get overinvolved with a pretty possible criminal passing through town.”

  “You warning me?”

  “Let’s just say we’re not that far removed from the days I had to pull you out of that bar and toss you in jail to sober up. Worst thing a former drinker can do is to get involved with the wrong company.”

  Buck nodded, but he couldn’t truly agree with Dion. He had the distinct feeling that he, with his miserable track record, was the wrong company for Gina. Not the other way around.

  Chapter Five

  Gina found the next day’s church service renewing and refreshing, and afterward, friendly people talked her into attending the church luncheon and meeting to plan the Freedom Festival. After a quick check on Bobby, who was loving the church nursery, she found her way to the fellowship hall.

  Amy, the tall, gorgeous woman she’d met in the grocery store with Buck, hurried over. “Hey, they’re just finishing up the general meeting, and everyone’s going to eat before breaking into committees. You should come sit next to me and we can talk about getting our babies together.”

  “That would be nice.” Although she feared she wouldn’t find a way to stay in Rescue River long enough to build real friendships, Gina was grateful to be able to sit with someone other than Buck and Lacey. She didn’t want to impose on them.

  After she’d gotten her plate of meat loaf, mashed potatoes and green beans, she headed over to where Amy was gesturing. And sighed. Amy was next to Buck and Lacey at a table full of people. So Gina ended up sitting with them after all.

  Conversation focused on the upcoming festival. Apparently, it had been going on for years, celebrating Rescue River’s history with the Underground Railroad and the arrival of spring, which had meant easier travel for those seeking freedom.

  Lacey was more animated today, talking about the guesthouse. “There’s a room in the basement and another in the attic that were kept available for fugitive slaves. Apparently, at one time there were thirty people staying at the house.”

  “You should get a historic-landmark designation!” Gina said. “It’s a lot of paperwork, but with a history like that, I’m sure you’d be approved.”

  Lacey didn’t seem to hear her, speaking instead to Amy about how hard it was to get the renovation done while working full-time.

  “I could help you with it,” Gina offered when there was a break in the conversation. “At least to get it on the National Register of Historic Places, which is easier. I’ve helped a couple of organizations do it.”

  Lacey gave her a look, one Gina could read. It was the same look she’d gotten when she’d tried to connect with the popular girls back in high school. You don’t belong, it said.

  Gina bit her lip. “Look, I know I won’t be here much longer, but I could print out the paperwork for you and give you some advice tonight. It’s well worth doing. And it’ll draw a lot of people to your guesthouse when it opens.”

  “I don’t want to get the word out too soon. It’s going to take a long time to finish, with the hours Buck and I work.”

  “Hey, hey,” said a man sitting across from Amy. “Don’t blame me. Buck has worked so much overtime that he could do half days for the rest of the year and be okay.” He looked at Gina. “I’m his so-called boss, Troy Hinton,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand.

  “Yeah, but I can’t take time off, and the work we need to do now, like hanging wallpaper, requires two people,” Lacey said. “I’m working extra hours myself, just to try to raise enough money so I can quit my day job and focus on the guesthouse when it opens. If it ever opens.”

  “I’ve hung tons of wallpaper.” For Bobby’s sake, Gina forced herself to persist. “I could just stay a little while and help—”

  “No!” Lacey’s voice cracked, causing conversation around the table to pause momentarily. “Not happening.”

  Gina felt her face heating with embarrassment.

  Buck leaned toward his sister and spoke to her rapidly, and Lacey’s eyes filled with tears.

  One of the people who’d just come to the table, a pretty Asian American–looking woman who’d been introduced as Susan, shoved her plate away and came around the table to Lacey’s side just as Lacey stood and murmured a broken apology to Gina.

  “Come on,” Susan said. “I’ll take you home.”

  “Sorry about that,” Buck said to Gina after Lacey and Susan were gone and conversation had resumed. “She has issues related to some stuff that’s happened to her. She miscarried a baby, and quite honestly, I don’t know if she’ll ever recover. Lacey’s strong in some ways, but she takes things hard.”

  “Oh, no! How awful!” Being a mother was the best thing that had ever happened to Gina, and she could only imagine how losing a baby would feel. “I’m so sorry I upset her.”

  “Not your fault.”

  It wasn’t, but how sad. Gina sighed and distracted herself by looking around the room at the tables full of people eating and talking. Up by the stage, a group of kids tossed around a couple of sponge balls, their laughter and shouts contributing to the general noise. Near the pass-through to the kitchen, women were cutting and serving pie, and the scents of cinnamon and nutmeg made Gina’s mouth water. It smelled like the home of the girl she’d most envied back in her grade-school days, a girl who’d come from a big, warm family.

  Behind her, she heard the sound of a baby crying, and she stood and turned at the same moment as the man who’d spoken about Buck being able to take time off. In the doorway of the fellowship hall, one of the nursery workers scanned the room, holding a crying Bobby. When she saw Gina, she waved, indicating that she’d bring Bobby over.

  “Oh, yours, not ours,” Troy said, sitting back down.

  “Woot!” The woman next to him gave him a gentle high five. “We actually get to finish our meals. I’m Angelica, by the way,” she said to Gina.

  “Yeah, until Xavier gets too wild and we have to rein him in.” Troy put an arm around Angelica, looking at her with warm possessiveness. “I have to fight for adult time with my wife.”

  The loving look she gave him back made jealousy knife through Gina’s heart. Would she ever have a relationship like that, or was she doomed to repeat past failures?

  Shaking off the jealousy, Gina thanked the nursery worker and pulled Bobby into her lap, cuddling him close. He was what was important, not her own romantic longings.

  “He’s adorable!” Angelica said. “How o
ld is he?”

  “Ten months.” Gina nuzzled Bobby’s head and wiped his tears.

  “He’s a big boy!” Angelica leaned forward to tickle Bobby’s arm, making him chortle. “My Emmie is nine months, but she’s nowhere near this one’s size.”

  “Mom!” A boy of seven or eight hurtled into Angelica’s side and then looked curiously at Bobby. “Who’s that baby?”

  Another little girl, a year or two younger, hopped into Angelica’s lap. “Xavier took my dancing bear, Aunt Angelica.”

  “I just hid it, Mindy. It’s behind the curtain.” Xavier gestured toward the stage and leaned forward to tickle Bobby’s knee.

  Mindy stuck out her tongue at him, slid off Angelica’s lap and ran toward the stage. At which point Gina realized that the little girl was missing a hand.

  “Be kind to your cousin,” Angelica scolded her son gently. “Go play with her.”

  “But she wants to play dumb games.”

  “Listen to your mother,” Troy said, his voice stern, and Xavier stuck out his lower lip, then nodded and ran toward Mindy.

  As people watched and chuckled and asked to hold Bobby, Gina felt a sense of homecoming unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She loved it here. She wanted to raise Bobby here.

  An elderly woman approached their table, pushing a rolling walker. “Are you going to finish putting my house back together before the festival?” she asked, pointing a bony finger at Buck.

  “Um, I don’t think so, Miss Minnie.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too much to do and not enough time to do it, with Lacey and me both working.”

  Amy explained. “The guesthouse belonged to Miss Minnie until recently.”

  “Was it in your family a long time?” Gina pushed her mostly empty plate aside, too interested to finish her meal.

  “Since before the Civil War,” the woman said. “And to think that I would be the one to let it go out of the family...”

  “Do you have any records, letters, stories?” Gina asked, fascinated as always by living local history.

  “I certainly do, young lady. A whole trunk full of them. And you are...?”

  “I’m sorry.” Gina stood. “Would you like to sit down? I’m Gina Patterson. I’m...” She glanced around. “I’m just passing through, I guess. But I used to volunteer at the historical society where I lived in California. I hope those documents will be able to stay with the house.”

  “First time anyone’s shown any interest,” Miss Minnie grumbled.

  “Sit down and join us, Miss Minnie,” Buck said, standing too and holding a chair for the woman.

  “No, sirree. I have more people to visit.” And she was off, pushing her walker with surprising speed.

  “Sure would be great if Lacey could open the house in time for the festival,” someone said.

  Let me help. Gina had to press her lips together to keep from saying the words out loud. “What kind of guests come to town during the festival?” she asked instead.

  “Last year, we got over three thousand visitors.” Troy had his arm around Angelica, unconsciously stroking her hair as he spoke. “City people, mostly, from Cleveland and Pittsburgh and Columbus. People who like the small-town scene.”

  “People with money?” Amy asked.

  A pretty, plump blonde woman lifted an eyebrow at Amy. “You planning to pick pockets?”

  “Daisy!” Angelica shook her head. “Be nice to Amy. She’s newly back in town.”

  “And no,” Amy said, laughing, “I’m not picking anyone’s pocket. I’m hoping to take the visitors’ money, but honestly. If I stay, I might open up a shop.”

  Gina opened her mouth and then shut it again.

  “What?” Angelica asked, and Buck looked curious, too.

  “It’s just...you couldn’t pay for the kind of advertising Lacey would get if she could have an open house during the festival. Even if it was just partially done, a few rooms. The people who come to town are already looking for the small-town experience. They’re perfect customers.”

  “For sure,” Buck said. “Just don’t see how we could get it done in time.”

  Angelica looked at Gina. “Could you help them? Because this might be a God thing.”

  “I... Yeah, I could.”

  “How?” Buck asked sharply.

  “It’s not just the historical-society work and the fact that I’ve done a lot of decorating. I also majored in marketing in college.”

  “So you know how to showcase a place like the guesthouse to make it shine, right?” Angelica asked, smiling as if she already knew the answer.

  “Yeah,” Gina admitted, “I do. The place would be booked for months in advance even before it officially opens. Especially if there aren’t a lot of competing guesthouses and B and Bs here.”

  “There’s just the one other motel,” Buck said, “and it’s very basic.” He looked thoughtful, as if he were really considering the possibility of having Gina stay and help.

  “You and Lacey should totally hire her,” Angelica said.

  “Well, but it would mean having Bobby around a lot.” Now that Buck seemed to be considering the idea, all the reasons against it flooded into Gina’s head. “And we’d have to stay there. If we could stay, your sister could pay me pretty minimally.”

  “I can take Bobby some,” Angelica said unexpectedly. “I’m at home with Emmie, and it would be fun for her to have a playmate.”

  “I couldn’t pay much for child care,” Gina warned, feeling uncomfortable with the need to economize. But she was determined to learn—or relearn—to live without the easy wealth she’d gotten accustomed to during her marriage.

  Angelica waved a hand. “You wouldn’t need to pay. It could be our contribution to the guesthouse. Rescue River needs it badly.”

  “No, I’d find a way to pay. But that would be great. There are fumes in some parts of a renovation, and that wouldn’t be good for him. Would it, sweetie?” She reached out her arms for Bobby, who was snuggling now in Buck’s arms.

  “I’ll hold him—it’s fine,” he said. “All of this is a good idea for Rescue River and for Lacey. But I have my doubts about whether...” He broke off, looked down at Bobby and then back at Gina, his face bleak. “Like I said, having a baby around would be hard on her.”

  And on you, Gina thought.

  Around them, clattering dishes and bustling footsteps announced that the meal was coming to an end, but at their table, everyone was watching Buck.

  Abruptly, he handed Bobby back to Gina and lifted his hands like stop signs. “All right, all right. I’ll talk to her again. But I can’t make any promises. I doubt she’ll agree to anything of the kind.”

  As for Gina, she wondered whether Buck would present a fair case. He seemed almost as set against her staying as his sister was.

  * * *

  On Monday and Tuesday, Buck busied himself with work at the vet clinic. His boss, Troy Hinton, took in every animal who had a need, whether the owners could pay or not, so there was plenty of work.

  Midafternoon on Tuesday, Buck was washing up after a procedure when there was a sharp click and then someone crowded behind him.

  Adrenaline surged. Buck spun, wet hands up, and grabbed for his assailant’s throat.

  “Hey, hey!” His boss’s surprised voice and familiar face made Buck drop his hands and step back, heart racing.

  He looked away and drew in a couple of deep breaths, like they’d taught him at the VA.

  “You okay?” Troy’s voice was mild as he put away a pair of surgical forceps and started washing his hands at the other side of the sink.

  “Yeah. Sorry, man.”

  “I should know better than to sneak up behind you.” Troy dried off and then sat down at the computer.


  It was a great thing about working for Troy Hinton: he was calm, an old friend, and he’d known about Buck’s PTSD—and his other flaws—when he’d hired him.

  His heart still racing, Buck stepped out the back door of the clinic for some air...and heard a whining, scratching sound at his feet.

  There was a closed cardboard box, a couple of feet square, with holes punched in the sides and an envelope on the top. Uh-oh.

  He picked up the box and carried it inside. “Drop-off,” he said to Troy and set the box down on the floor. He handed the envelope to Troy, then grabbed a pair of forceps and used them to open the box gingerly. No telling what he might find. Could be something wild and scared, even rabid.

  But when he got the box open, a dirty white mop flung itself out and planted front paws on Buck’s leg. When he bent to pat what looked like its head, the little dog licked his hand, barking and whining.

  He squatted down. “Okay, buddy. It’s okay.” He stroked the matted, dirty fur. “What’s in the envelope?” he asked Troy.

  Troy squinted at a sheet of notepaper and then read aloud. “‘I’m sick, can’t take care of Spike no more. My kids want to put him down. Please help.’”

  “Spike?” Buck brushed back the excessive hair on the little dog’s head and looked into anxious dark eyes. “You’re a tough guy, huh?”

  A couple of bills fluttered to the floor, and Troy picked them up, a five and a single. “Six dollars.” He shook his head. “Guy probably went without something to leave that.”

  “Got room for him at the rescue?”

  “I’ll make room. Better check him out first.” Troy got a small biscuit out of the jar they kept on the desk and whistled, and the mop waddled over to him. “Hey, big guy. How long were you out there?”

  The little dog’s whole body wagged.

  “Sit,” Troy said, and the mop sat down and held out a polite paw. When Troy offered the biscuit, the dog grabbed it and ran off to the corner of the room to eat. “He’s hungry.”

  “Somebody trained him, though. Can’t figure why anyone would want to put the little guy down.” Buck stood. “Want me to do an exam?”