Support Your Local Sheriff

“Oh, she forces me, all right. In hopes I’ll take back my ex-husband.” Leona retreated into the foyer where her hair seemed less blue and her countenance less sharp. “Or join one of Harmony Valley’s many causes.”

“Too much information for our guests,” Reggie muttered.

“My offer of a place to stay still stands,” Nate said to Julie. He had a studio apartment above the sheriff’s office.

“I’ll face the music of my own making, thank you.” Lugging Duke, Julie followed Reggie up the steps. “You’d best do the same.”

Nate noted Julie’s slow, measured steps. Her uneven breathing as she ascended the stairs. Her rigid posture and the tender way she held Duke. What had torn her apart?

Cancer?

She’d been favoring her left shoulder.

Breast cancer?

Nate bounded up the stairs, suddenly afraid Julie might collapse.

“I could like Ms. Smith.” Leona gave Julie a knowing smile. “She has a way with the sheriff. But—” she tilted her head and filled her expression with cheerful remorse “—the reservation was for one.”

“Casa Landry has room for two,” Nate said, if he slept downstairs on the cot in the jail cell.

“Poaching my business.” Reggie tsked and tried to look like there was much business to poach. “Bad form, Sheriff. Children under six stay free, Grandmother.”

“Want bed,” Duke crooned.

“As soon as we check in, little man.” But Julie didn’t move toward the door in her usual take-no-prisoners style. She blew out a labored breath and planted her boots on the porch as if it was an accomplishment just to make it that far. “Reservation for Smith.”

“Reggie needs your credit card.” Leona tried to smile, although it made her look as if she was having indigestion. “I need your assurance that your party won’t disrupt other guests.”

“By other guests, she means herself.” Reggie softened the remark with a more natural smile. “Thankfully, without her hearing aids she can only hear you if you scream. She hasn’t been disturbed at night yet.”

Julie was a woman of action, but she was loitering on the porch as if this was a social call and she wasn’t swaying with fatigue. Why? Because cancer was making a buffet of her strength. Nate was certain of it now. His certainty hollowed him with a sense of impending loss.

“Excuse me.” A man’s voice reached them from the sidewalk. “Is this the Lambridge Bed & Breakfast?”

“It is.” Reggie shoved the diaper bag into Nate’s chest. “Grandmother, show the Smiths to their room.”

“Yes,” Nate said firmly. “Show us now.”

* * *

WHEN JULIE WAS a kid, she’d had boundless energy. It was as if she’d gotten her share of energy, plus April’s.

April had asthma. April had painful growth spurts. April had flat feet, poor eyesight, lactose intolerance, skin that burned, toes prone to warts. You name it, April suffered through it. Not with Julie’s spunk, but with a gentle smile and a well-meaning joke.

Five days ago, Julie had been shot in the soft flesh near her shoulder. She’d lost a lot of blood.

Standing and carrying Duke. Fighting with Nate. Being out of bed. How quickly it all drained her reserves. She wanted to collapse on the chair just inside the front door. She didn’t want to carry her nephew and follow the Bride of Frankenstein up the stairs to a bedroom.

Seriously. Leona was a dead ringer for the black-and-white film icon. Give her a couple of neck bolts, tease up her hair, and she’d be ready for Halloween.

She was out of place in the house, which was beautiful and serene. It was like stepping back in time. Bead board. Wood floors. Old fixtures. Antique furniture. All lovingly cared for. By Reggie, no doubt.

“I’m curious.” Nate stared at Reggie and the man on the sidewalk. And then he turned to look at Leona. “You’re singing in Rose’s production of Annie for the Spring Festival?”

There was a shift in Leona’s posture, a preening. “Rose said no one else could play Miss Hannigan.”

Nate’s half smile twitched. He adjusted his hold on the load he carried. “Can you give us a sample?”

“I don’t do requests.” With a toss of her head, Leona led them with slow steps that made the creaking stairs wail as plaintively as Duke had outside.

The music from Psycho played once more in Julie’s head, but this time she was smiling as she climbed.

The pain meds are making me loopy.

Or they would be if I’d taken the pain meds.

When they reached the second floor, Leona gestured to an open door. “This is your bathroom.”

It was completely tiled and completely white. Not the best choice for the dirt little boys tended to bring inside.

Blessedly, a few steps later they were at a bedroom. The four-poster bed was huge, and the room was still large enough for a Tae Kwon Do match.

Julie set Duke down on the bed. Only the presence of Nate kept her from collapsing next to him.

She’d played sports in high school and trained in martial arts. She knew how to play through pain. But exhaustion. Exhaustion was different. Exhaustion took you out of the game.

“Breakfast is from 8:30 a.m. to 9:00 a.m.” Leona raised her eyebrows at Nate. “Visiting hours end at 9:00 p.m.”

Nate dropped Julie’s duffel on the chair near the cherry desk, placing the rest of her things around it on the floor, including the backpack with the custody papers. “That gives me ten minutes.”

Leona checked her slim gold watch. “Nine minutes.”

A smile snuck past Julie’s defenses again. Maybe she and Leona would get along after all. She could probably give Julie pointers on how to put Nate in his place.

Leona gave Julie what might have been a charitable smile if Julie was feeling charitable. “Credit card?” When she had it, Leona left. Her heels clacked briskly against the hardwood.

Nate picked up Duke’s dinosaur bedroll and shook it out on top of the bed, surrounding it with pillows. “Don’t let Leona get under your skin. She senses weakness like a wolf smells blood.”

“I could take her,” Julie joked, unable to get her eyes off Nate. She’d forgotten how nice he could be. He was supposed to be a jerk when she told him about Duke. He was supposed to reject Duke as his. He was supposed to be angry and insensitive. Julie could deal with angry, insensitive jerks all day long. It was the nice guys who undid her.

She needed her anger, if only for nine more minutes. “Don’t think I’m going to hand Duke over to you and walk away. You still have to prove you’ll be a good father.”

“Says who?” There was some of the anger she sought. A spark in dark eyes. A set to his jaw.

His reaction energized her. “It was April’s last wish.”

“Want bed,” Duke crooned, crawling toward the bedroll.