About That Man

He scowled at that. “Don’t know why I should.”

She hid a grin, wondering what made her think this smart-mouthed kid was a gift from above.

She gave him a stern look. “Because I have been your Sunday school teacher since you were a toddler, Tommy Flanagan, and I don’t lie.”

“Never said you did,” he mumbled. “Just don’t know why I should think you’re any different than all those other people who promised I’d get to stay, then kicked me out.”

“Nobody kicked you out. You keep running away,” she reminded him. “Isn’t that right?”

He shrugged off the distinction. “I suppose.”

“Why did you do that?”

“They just took me in because they had to. I know when I’m not wanted. I just made it easy for ’em.”

“Okay, then, for however long it takes to find your family–or forever, if it comes to that–you are going to have a home right here with me. And I’m going to see to it that you don’t have any reason to want to run away. Don’t take that to mean I’m going to be a pushover, though.”

She said it emphatically and without the slightest hesitation. Her gaze locked with his. “Do we have an understanding?”

“I guess,” he said, apparently satisfied for the moment that she meant what she said.

Relief washed through her. This was going to work out. She could feel it. Daisy didn’t even consider the fact that she’d caught him trying to hot-wire her car as a bad omen. Hopefully Tommy wouldn’t mention that little detail to anyone. She certainly didn’t intend to.

She did worry ever so slightly about the repercussions once word got back to her father, but she was convinced she could handle that, too. She just hoped it would take the grapevine a little longer than usual to reach Cedar Hill. King wasn’t as easily won over as a scared kid.

In the meantime, she knew she did have to call Frances Jackson. Frances took her job at Social Services very seriously. Tommy’s disappearances were wearing on her nerves. Daisy reached for the portable phone.

“Who’re you calling?” Tommy demanded, scowling.

“Mrs. Jackson. She needs to know that you’re with me and that you’re okay.”

“Don’t see why.” He gave her a pleading look. “Couldn’t we just keep this between us? You tell her, and the next thing we know she’ll have the sheriff over here hauling my butt away.”

“The sheriff won’t lay a hand on you,” Daisy reassured him fiercely, but she put the phone back on the table.

“How come?”

“Because the sheriff is my brother and he’ll do what I tell him to do.” At least she hoped he would.

Tommy still looked skeptical. “Have you got something on him?”

Daisy chuckled. “Not the way you mean. Just leave handling Tucker to me. It won’t be a problem. Besides, when you go back to school on Monday, people are going to want to know where you’re staying. We might as well be up-front about it.”

“I thought maybe I wouldn’t go back,” he said, looking hopeful. “It’s almost summer, anyway.”

“Not a chance,” Daisy said firmly. “Education is too important–you can’t take it lightly. And there are weeks to go before summer, not days. You will go to school and that’s that. Now go on upstairs, Tommy, take a bath and then get a little rest. I’m sure you didn’t sleep much last night. There are clean towels in the closet, and you can have the guest room at the end of the hall. If you need anything, just ask. We’ll talk some more later.”

Tommy nodded and started out of the kitchen, then paused. “How come you’re being so nice to me?”

For an instant he allowed her to see the vulnerable, lost little boy behind the defiant facade. “Because you’re worth being nice to, Tommy Flanagan,” she told him.

He seemed a bit startled by that, but he gave a little bob of his head and took off, thundering up the stairs, Molly trailing after him.

“And because I need you as much as you need me,” she whispered when he was out of earshot.

Once again she reached for the phone and made the call to Frances.

“Oh, Daisy,” the social worker murmured when she’d heard what Daisy had to say. “Are you sure you want to do this? Tommy’s a real troublemaker. Not that it’s not understandable, given what he’s been through, but he needs a firm hand.”

“He needs love,” Daisy retorted. “And I intend to see that he gets it.”

“But–”

“Is there some reason I’m not a fit foster mother for him?” Daisy demanded.

“Of course not,” Frances said, as if the very idea that someone would consider a Spencer unfit was ludicrous.

“Then that’s that. Tommy stays here.”

“Until I find a relative,” the social worker reminded her.

“Or not,” Daisy said. “You’ll take care of the paperwork, then?”

Frances sighed. “I will. I’ll drop it by later for you to sign, though I can’t imagine what King is going to say when he hears about this.”

“Then you be real sure not to tell him,” Daisy retorted. “Or I’ll make him think this was all your idea.”

Frances was still sputtering over the threat when Daisy hung up. A little grin of satisfaction spread across her face. It was about time she gave the residents of Trinity Harbor something to talk about besides her long-ago broken engagement and her pecan pie.

“Sis, you are out of your ever-loving mind,” her brother Tucker, the local sheriff, told Daisy when he arrived within an hour of her conversation with Frances.

Obviously the instant he’d heard what she was up to–probably straight from the social worker–Tucker had hightailed it over to lecture her as if she were sixteen instead of thirty. Hands on hips, he was scowling at her as if she’d committed some sort of crime, instead of simply seizing the opportunity that had been presented to her.

“That boy’s going to land in juvenile detention,” he declared in his best doom-and-gloom tone. “You mark my words. Doc’s caught him stealing comic books. He broke Mrs. Thomas’s window. And he rode his bike through Mr. Lindsey’s bean patch and mowed down most of his plants. Something tells me that’s just the things we know about. There could be more. He’s headed for trouble, Daisy.”

Daisy stared right straight back into Tucker’s eyes, ignored his stony expression, and countered, “Well, of course he is…unless someone steps in and does something.”

“And that has to be you?”

“Do you see anybody else who’s willing?” she demanded. “He’s already run through half the foster families in the area. As for those pranks of his, you and Bobby did worse and nobody did more than call Daddy to complain.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

Tucker squirmed uneasily. “It just was, that’s all.” He tried another tack. “When Dad hears about this, he is going to go ballistic.”

She shrugged off her brother’s assessment as if it was of no consequence. “Dad is always going ballistic about one thing or another. Usually it’s you or Bobby who gets him all worked up. It’s about time I took a turn. Being King Spencer’s dutiful daughter is starting to wear thin.”