Читать книгу The Deputy's Holiday Family - Mindy Obenhaus - Страница 11
ОглавлениеComing home had never been so bittersweet.
Lacie Collier tapped her brakes at the Ouray city limit sign, observing the snowcapped mountains that closed in around her. Okay, so her trip home in February for her sister’s funeral ranked right up there, too. But this was different.
She glimpsed the brown-eyed little girl in her rearview mirror. The last nine months had been quite an adjustment period for both her and Kenzie. And while her niece seemed to finally be adapting to life without her mother, Lacie was still struggling to balance motherhood and work. Or was anyway, until her employer decided the addition of a child was too distracting and let Lacie go.
Her heart ached as she approached the hot springs pool. She’d wanted so badly to make this the best Christmas ever for Kenzie. Now they didn’t even have a home.
Still, God had a plan, of that she was certain. She just wished He’d give her some clue as to what lay ahead.
“Are we there yet?” Poor Kenzie. They’d spent the last five-plus hours driving across Colorado. A trip Lacie never relished, but throw a four-year-old into the mix and it became an even greater challenge.
“Almost, sweetie. We’ll be at Grandma’s in just a few more minutes.” She knew the kid was eager to break free of the booster seat that held her captive.
Past the park, Main Street greeted them with all of its intimate charm. To the unsuspecting traveler, Ouray was simply a slowdown on their journey along Highway 550, but to those who had taken the time to stop, it was a treasure trove of everything from arts to adventure, four-wheeling to hiking, ice climbing to hot springs.
She slowed the car to almost a crawl, taking in the Victorian-era buildings and the sidewalks bustling with activity. Though it was only the Saturday before Thanksgiving, the town was already decked out for Christmas. Giant lighted snowflakes and evergreen garlands adorned every light post, stores sparkled with holiday-themed window displays, and twinkling lights were everywhere you looked. Everywhere except Barbara Collier’s house. Because her mom didn’t do Christmas.
She let go a frustrated sigh. How was she ever going to make this Christmas special for Kenzie?
A squeal erupted from the back seat.
Lacie’s gaze instantly jerked to her niece and the toy-filled back seat. “What’s wrong?”
“My drink,” Kenzie whined, her light-up shoes flickering with each and every kick of her suddenly wet legging-clad legs.
“Oh, no.” Lacie grabbed the wad of fast-food napkins from the passenger seat. “Did you spill?” With one hand still on the steering wheel, she tried in vain to blot the little girl’s legs.
Kenzie merely nodded, her bottom lip pooched out.
Still attempting to console the child, Lacie glanced at the road in front of her, sympathy instantaneously morphing into horror as a pedestrian dodged out of her way.
With a loud gasp, she slammed on the brakes, her seat belt tightening in protest.
Kenzie cried in earnest now as Lacie put the vehicle into Park and fumbled to release her restraint. Her heart thudding, she pushed her door open, the cold air slapping her in the face as she rushed toward the gray-haired woman. “I am so sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, young lady.” Aged green eyes narrowed on her. “But you need to watch where you’re going.”
“I know. I apologize.”
“And you also need to think about moving your car.” The woman pointed.
Lacie turned to see a line of vehicles behind her. Not to mention all the people who’d gathered at the corner to see what was happening.
“Yes, ma’am.” She hurried back to her SUV, praying nobody recognized her. Then, with Kenzie’s whimpers still echoing from the back seat, Lacie double-checked for pedestrians and continued up the street. Thank You, God, that I didn’t hit that woman.
Half a block later, she heard the whine of a siren. She eyed her mirrors to discover flashing lights bearing down on her. “Perfect.”
With not a parking spot to be had on Main Street, she turned at the next corner and eased into the first available space.
“Are we there?” Hope laced Kenzie’s voice.
“Sorry, sweetie.” She again put the vehicle into Park, gathered her courage, along with her license, registration and proof of insurance, and drew in a shaky breath before rolling down her window. This day couldn’t possibly get any worse.
Shielding her eyes from the sun, she watched as the deputy exited his Tahoe and started toward her. Somewhere around six foot and well-built, he wore a black ball cap embroidered with a gold sheriff’s badge over his short dark hair, but sunglasses made it impossible to see his eyes. A tactical vest with a plethora of pockets covered his tan shirt and she caught the name on his badge as the sunglasses came off.
Stephens.
One look at his dark gaze and her insides cringed. Obviously, she was wrong, because things had just gotten worse.
Out of the five Stephens brothers, why did it have to be Matt? The one who’d been her good friend through most of high school and the one she’d secretly crushed on...until he started dating her sister.
She sank lower into her seat. Their friendship was never the same after that.
“I thought that was you, Lacie.”
She had to force herself to look at him, though when she did, his smile made it impossible to turn away. “Yep, it’s me, all right.” How could it be that he was even more handsome than she remembered when he hadn’t really changed at all, save for the slight creases around his almond-shaped eyes. And those lips with that perfect Cupid’s bow—
Whoa! Wrong train of thought for Matt Stephens or any other guy. While Marissa may have thought it fine to have a bunch of men traipsing in and out of her life, Lacie wanted better for Kenzie. She deserved security, a good home and a happy life. Which was why Lacie had to find another job and get back to Denver as soon as possible.
Matt rested a forearm against the roof of her vehicle and glanced toward the back seat. “You doin’ okay? Looked like you were having a little problem back there on Main Street.”
“Yeah.” She brushed a wayward hair away from her face. “I got distracted, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” He straightened then, crossing his arms over his chest. “You almost took out Mrs. Wells.”
“I know.” Her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. My niece was having a problem and I—”
“Could have killed somebody.”
Was he deliberately trying to make her feel worse?
“Lacie, you know you’re supposed to stop for pedestrians in the crosswalk.”
“Yes, yes, I do. And it won’t happen again. I promise.”
“I’m sure it won’t.” His breath puffed in the cold afternoon air. “But I’m afraid I’m still going to have to give you ticket.”
Indignation had her sitting taller. “A ticket? Why? Nobody got hurt.”
“I’m sorry, Lacie, but you broke the law.”
“It wasn’t like I did it on purpose.”
“Nobody ever plans to have an accident.” He pulled a pad from his vest. “I’ll need to see your license, registration and proof of—”
“Yeah, yeah.” She shoved the documents toward him.
“You know, you could cut me a little slack. I’m just doing my job.”
She forced herself to smile. “Or you could cut me some and let me off with a warning.”
Chuckling, he patted her on the arm. “I’ll be right back.”
She could hardly wait.
“Aunt Lacie?”
“What is it, sweetie?” Turning, she noticed that not only was Kenzie no longer crying, but her deep brown eyes were as wide as she’d ever seen them.
“Are we going to go to jail?”
She couldn’t help smiling. “No, we are not going to jail. As soon as we’re done here, we’re going straight to Grandma’s to get you cleaned up and into some dry clothes. Okay?”
The little girl grinned. “Okay.”
“All right. Here you go, Lacie.”
She twisted back toward the door to accept her documents from Matt.
“And if I could just get you to sign here.” Pointing with his pen, he handed her his ticket pad. “You two in for Thanksgiving?”
And then some, but he didn’t need to know that.
“We are, yeah.” She scrawled her name. Why did he make her so nervous? After all, it wasn’t like they were in high school anymore. She was thirty-four years old, for crying out loud.
Must be the uniform.
She handed him his pad.
Or the fact that he’s every bit as good-looking as you remembered.
He tore off her copy then bent to hand it to her, his seemingly curious gaze drifting from her to Kenzie. “Be safe and I hope you guys have a happy Thanksgiving.” With a wink, he walked away.
She looked at the ticket in her hand. So much for old friends.
No telling how much it was going to cost her for almost killing someone. Yet as she continued to study the paper, she suddenly found herself smiling.
It wasn’t a ticket at all. He had given her a warning.
* * *
Matt couldn’t seem to get Lacie out of his mind. And, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. Nonetheless, he’d spent the last twenty-four hours thinking of little else.
Was it the frazzled state she seemed to be in? Or the way she’d glared at him with those pretty gray-blue eyes?
Perhaps it was the little girl in the back seat. Though he may have been much older, he knew the pain of losing a mother. And with no father in the picture, Marissa’s death had likely rocked the kid’s world.
Memories of the child’s mother played across his mind. The last time he’d seen Marissa was six years ago, when he was stationed in Hawaii with the navy. Her visit had been a pleasant surprise. And for a brief time, he’d even thought their failed relationship might have a second chance. Instead, he’d gotten burned, and discovered the kind of person Marissa had really been. Evidently the old adage was true. Beauty is only skin-deep.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. The Collier women were the last thing he should be dwelling on. Not when he had plenty of other things to worry about. Like work, his father and the town’s annual Christmas play. He could only imagine what Dad would think of him taking on the role of director.
Something Matt wasn’t 100 percent sure of himself. He was just a deputy sheriff who barely knew stage right from stage left. Yet when he heard rumors that they were thinking about canceling the play, he’d felt compelled to do something. He couldn’t let the event his mother had begun over a decade ago die. That would be like losing Mama all over again.
So here he sat in the cab of his Jeep, staring at the two-story cream-and-blue brick building that was the Wright Opera House, praying he wouldn’t let her down.
Drawing in a deep breath, he grabbed the stack of scripts from the passenger seat and stepped out into the chilly late-afternoon air. The cast would be arriving soon, so he’d better get inside and at least pretend he knew what he was doing. He refused to let other people see him as the screwup his father believed him to be. Because regardless of the what the old man thought, Matt was not responsible for his mother’s death.
He flipped on the lights inside the circa 1888 building that smelled of lemon oil and popcorn. Moving past the box office with its intricately carved moldings, he continued up the curved staircase to the second floor. The view at the top never ceased to stop him in his tracks.
Beyond the expanse of arched windows, the gray volcanic peaks of the Amphitheater enveloped the town’s eastern edge. Cloaked in white and skirted with conifers, they were a sight to behold. God’s majesty on full display.
A few steps closer and his gaze fell to a nearly empty Main Street. He could only imagine how things must have looked back when Ouray was a thriving mining town. Carriages lining Main Street as people turned out in their finest for some cultural enrichment.
With an about-face, he moved into the theater opposite the windows and brought up the house lights. Unexpected emotion clogged his throat as he took in the large space with its brick walls, wooden floor and the original stage curtain that now served as a mural. Mama used to think of the Wright as her second home. He could still see her, taking the stage in an array of roles—everything from a soldier to a nun. She may have been a country girl, but she loved the theater. And this play was her legacy. Meaning as long as Matt lived and breathed, the show would go on.
“Oh, good. I’m not the first one here.”
The voice had him whirling to find Lacie standing behind him. Her caramel-colored hair, which had been pulled back into a ponytail yesterday, now spilled over her shoulders and down her back. Much longer than the no-nonsense, chin-length style she’d worn throughout high school. And with her pale pink peacoat cinched around her waist, she was quite the contrast to the tomboy who had once run circles around him and just about every other guy on the basketball court at Ouray High. She’d always steered clear of anything remotely feminine. That is, until she took the stage their senior year. Watching her transform from the Cockney Eliza Doolittle into a refined lady in their school play had had everyone’s jaw dropping.
Her smile wavered as he approached, her expression suddenly curious. “What are you doing here?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m directing the Christmas play. Why are you here?”
“I’m in the play.” Hands stuffed inside the pockets of her coat, she shifted from one stylishly booted foot to the other. “I thought Mrs. Nichols was directing. That’s what she said when she called and invited me to be a part of it.”
“You’re only in town for Thanksgiving. Why would she ask you to be in the play?”
Lacie hesitated a moment before jutting her chin out. “Actually... I’m here throughout WinterFest.”
But that ran from Thanksgiving all the way to the ice festival in January, so—“Why would you do that?”
A hint of annoyance pinched her brow. “Not that it’s any of your business, but my mom needed some holiday help at the boutique.” Removing her hands from her pockets, she brushed something from her coat sleeve. “And since I no longer have a job...”
She’d lost her job? Now he was really glad he’d given her only a warning. After all, she had a child to care for. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s only temporary.” She looked everywhere but at him, seemingly studying everything from ceiling to floor. “So where’s Mrs. Nichols?”
“Rehab.”
Eyes wide, she finally met his gaze.
“She broke her hip.”
“Ooh, that’s rough. She’s such a sweet woman.”
“Yes, she is.”
Lacie meandered toward the windows. “Great theater teacher, too. I hope she recovers soon.”
“We all do.”
After a silent moment, she faced him. “So you’re directing the play in her stead?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I...didn’t realize you were into theater.”
“I’m not. But my mother was. The Christmas play was her baby.” He lifted a shoulder. “And since there was no one else willing to direct...”
A hint of a smile played across her pink lips. “That’s actually very sweet. I know how close you were to your mother.”
Sentiment prevented him from responding with anything but a nod.
“That reminds me, though,” she continued. “I wanted to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For giving me a warning instead of a ticket.” Hands back in her pockets, she shrugged. “In case you couldn’t tell, I was kind of freaked out about what had happened. That warning made my day a little bit better.”
Something about that last statement warmed him. “Glad I could help.”
“So where is everyone else?” She looked to the street as an echo of voices drifted from downstairs.
“Sounds like they just arrived.”
A short time later, after moving a few rows of chairs out of the way, he gathered in front of the stage with the dozen or so cast members comprised of townsfolk ranging in age from eighteen to seventy.
“I want to thank you all for coming and for being a part of this play.” He filled them in on Mrs. Nichols’s condition. “Now, I know many of you have been involved in this event for many years. However, I’m new to this directing thing, so if any of you would like to bow out, this would be your chance.”
“Don’t be silly, Matt.” Valerie Dawson waved off his comment. She’d been a good friend of his mother’s and a part of this event since its inception. “We’re just happy you were willing to step in on such short notice. Besides, it’ll be nice to have a Stephens leading us again.”
A round of nods and “that’s rights” followed, bolstering his confidence. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard, after all.
“All right, then. Since this is supposed to be a read-through, I guess I’ll just pass out these scripts—” he picked up the stack from the edge of the stage “—and we’ll get started.”
“Excuse me.” Lacie held up her hand. “Are we not going to go over show expectations?”
Show expectations? What were those?
“Do you have our call times?” asked someone else.
Call times? Okay, that was rehearsals. At least he thought that’s what they were.
“Oh, and what about costumes?” asked another. “When will we be fitted?”
Matt wasn’t used to having his authority questioned. Then again, he wasn’t wearing a uniform, either. He was completely out of his element.
He scanned the expectant faces before him, not wanting to let them down. Yet there was one glaring factor he couldn’t ignore.
He was in way over his head. Having Lacie here only amplified his incompetence. And he got the feeling she didn’t like him much, either. Two things he was determined to change.
