A Home Come True

“If you want to pet her, let’s give it another try,” Jen said softly. Apparently she was no more immune to Mari’s charm than anyone in the Hollister household.

Against his better judgment, Luke let Mari slide from his arms. When Mari smacked his leg with the lightsaber, he grunted and managed to catch it before she got her second swing in. Jen didn’t laugh at his wince but some of the tension around her lips eased.

Luke crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “This is Mari,” he said as his niece inched closer to the dog. Jen offered Mari her hand and they both squatted next to the animal.

“And this is Hope. She’s pretty special.” Jen scratched under the dog’s chin before she loosened the bandanna. “She’s adopted from an animal shelter. We had to do some surgery to take out a pinch collar so she has a funny haircut.”

Mari traced the faint line around the dog’s neck and was too distracted to dodge the welcoming lick.

Luke would have grimaced, but he knew Mari would enjoy every second. His mother would have had a minor fit about dogs and dirt and germs and whatever the current scare in the kindergarten was. Years as a school nurse in Austin had given her a justified concern.

But she wasn’t here and another of Mari’s silent laughs made everything better.

The long, sad day of saying goodbye to the life he’d been building was forgotten.

“Adopted.” Mari looked back at Luke and then fiddled with the dog’s ears and scratched under her arms. “That’s the best.”

Hearing Mari repeat his mother’s comfortable saying, which she used at every holiday gathering, was enough to tug the heartstrings of even the angriest jerk in the world.

“You are so right, Miss Mari,” Jen said. “And Hope seems to agree with you.” She stood and watched Mari kneel to run her hand over the dog’s side.

The little girl and the dog got to know each other quickly. Hope, determined to get the best scratching of her life, rolled in one direction first and then wiggled and squirmed so that Mari could reach the other side, too.

“She hardly ever talks.” Luke stared hard at the child he’d grown so attached to.

“Why?” Jen asked quietly.

“She doesn’t waste any breath with words when a thwack with a lightsaber will do,” Luke said with a sigh.

“I like her style,” Jen said as Mari smoothed out the hem of her tutu. Hope had shifted to rest her chin on Mari’s leg. They seemed to fit together perfectly now. They were peacefully communicating without words. “Where did you find those shoes?”

Luke raised an eyebrow at her and noticed a wash of pink sweep over her cheeks. “You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you?”

“I appreciate bold clothing choices,” Jen said with a shrug. “I figured you were a clothes guy. I mean, those pants have to have some kind of designer label in them.” He couldn’t miss her cut a glance at his dark suit pants and wondered what it meant that she’d noticed what he was wearing.

Luke rubbed the ache in the center of his forehead. “Probably some no-name brand. Got them at the department store after my mother shoved them in my hands and told me they were good value. She likes value.” Luke glanced over his shoulder to his house and considered why someone wasn’t watching where Mari was. If it was supposed to be his mother, maybe she was resting? The fencing company had rousted them all out of bed earlier than necessary. “Mari, we should go. Abuela will be worried.”

He watched Mari hug the dog with all the dramatic sorrow of a little girl who was used to getting what she wanted without having to raise her voice. At some point, he was going to have to put a fence up. The Holly Heights Hollisters could have a dog where the Austin Hollisters had never been able to. That was a nice change.

But his fence would be a normal wood privacy fence, not this wrought iron monstrosity.

“So, I guess you aren’t building this to keep your dangerous dog locked up,” Luke said as he gently petted Hope. “That must mean you need to keep someone out.”

Jen’s scoff clearly communicated her disgust at his suggestion. “Why can’t I like nice things? Why does everyone want to make this into some paranoid statement of my fears?” She wrapped her arms tightly over her chest but quickly extended a hand as soon as Mari began a reluctant walk back to Luke, dragging the toes of her shoes on the concrete with each step. She picked up her lightsaber with a delicate sigh. When the little girl slapped Jen’s hand for a low five, Jen gave a curt nod. Then she caught Luke’s eye and mouthed, “Impressive.”

Mari’s shoulders were slumping but she couldn’t help stealing one last glance at Hope as she crossed the street.

Luke straightened his tie and then met Jen’s eyes. Both of them had twitching lips.

“You seem pretty good with kids.” Luke shook his head. “Want to take a budding actress under your wing?”

“Nah, I like them older. Mouthier. With graduation and the end in sight.” Jen sighed. “Little kids are too...fragile.”

Mari violently thrust her lightsaber at the bushes lining the small porch. “Right. So delicate.” Luke wondered if his mother had seen the torn leaves and missing branches yet. When she did, she would not be happy.

“I don’t think she’s got what you’d call ‘natural landscaping ability’ but she’s got something.” Jen smiled up at him and then, almost as if she realized she was doing it, the smile slipped away to be replaced by a serious frown. “Sarah’s a friend. You get her the answers she needs and we don’t have a problem.”

Luke tipped his head back and studied the clouds drifting lazily overhead. Even the blue sky seemed bluer here. “I’m out of options on her dad’s case. A hearing will be set. If the judge determines there’s enough evidence to proceed with a criminal trial, and he will, Bobby will get jail time. Then there will be civil cases, too, on behalf of his employees.” He stared at Jen. “She’s going to have a long, hard time with him. Might’ve been better if he’d stayed gone.”

“Then why did you hound her the way you did?” Jen challenged, her shoulders square. She was ready for a fight. Under normal circumstances, he could take a petite female with one hand tied behind his back. In her case, he wasn’t so sure. She almost vibrated with the power of her conviction. She’d battle until she was out of breath. For the right thing, she’d battle until she was spent, or worse.

In this case, the right thing was friendship. That was attractive, even if she appeared to be considering his jugular in a worrisome fashion.

So, he answered slowly, “It. Was. My job.” He held both hands out. “I’m going to do my best to get the answers I need. I have to. Justice is what’s important.” He stared hard at her. “And sometimes justice means doing the tough things to get those answers I need. The people I serve depend on me to do that. She had the answers. That’s all.”

Jen narrowed her eyes. He expected her to hit him with angry words. Instead, she tightened her lips. “Use that focus for her now. Get some answers on the shelter break-in and we might let you live.”

Luke snorted. “Threatening an officer of the law?”

“I’m rich. I’ll hire a very good lawyer and make sure he can get in behind my fancy fence while you’re stuck on the outside looking in.” Then she slipped the leash she had hanging off the mailbox onto Hope. With one last glare, she turned and marched down the long driveway that led to her nice house.

“If I’m looking in, does that mean I’m not dead after all?” he muttered. Luke tried to calculate the square feet of calm and silence that a house like that would hold and then sighed as he crossed the street.

Back in the Hollister house, Mari had wisely taken her weapon with her and disappeared. Joseph was sprawled in front of the television playing some space game, keeping up a running commentary through his microphone with whoever he was competing against. His sister Renita’s head was bopping along with the pop song she had blasting through her headphones as she studied. Renita was all boy bands while Camila preferred hair bands, but both of his sisters liked the volume turned up. How his mother could stand it so calmly was a mystery he was going to investigate one day for his own sanity.

Luke bent over Renita’s shoulder to read the title. “British poets of the twentieth century.” The idea of having to wade through that sent a shiver down Luke’s spine. He’d scraped by in school, but his sister was going to graduate at the top of her class or die trying. When she brushed her braids over one shoulder and pulled her headphones away to ask, “Did you need me?”

Luke squeezed her shoulder. “A little light reading?”

She rolled her dark brown eyes. “Paper due next week. Since I plan to be babysitting for the Monroes every night and their twins prefer to talk to me, rather than sleep, I need to get a head start.” She tapped her pen on the paper in front of her. “Notes for the organization of my soon-to-be brilliant exploration of the effect of war on poets.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Even Mrs. Jones was impressed with my topic and she’s heard them all.”

Luke bet she had. “And how’s math?”

Renita tipped her chin down. “You mean, how is trigonometry?” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m pretty sure Mr. Wilson thinks girls should be learning how to cook or something.” This time she didn’t roll her eyes. Luke knew she’d heard worse.

“Must eat him up that you aced his test.”

She raised both hands and clapped. “Yes. It does.” Her eyes sparkled as she brushed each shoulder defiantly. “So I’ma keep doing it.”

Luke motioned toward Joseph who was now shouting into the microphone attached to his headphones. “Think you could help the runt with whatever he’s got?”

“I tried.” Renita shrugged a shoulder. “Couldn’t hear me over the chip on his shoulder.” She stared up at Luke, her genuine concern easy to read. Renita had been with the Hollisters for almost five years, long enough to understand the difference between fosters and family. “Kid’s mad about the move.”

That was his diagnosis, too. They’d all been through it. He, Camila and Renita had all learned what real family could be. Joseph would, too. “Know anything about a Ms. Neil? A teacher at your school?”

When Renita straightened in her seat, he knew he’d made an error. “Why? Is she hot stuff?”

A big error. “Only if you count her temper. She’s our neighbor.”