Hometown Honey. Kara Lennox
at that moment, was bouncing on Cindy’s knee, laughing as if this were the greatest entertainment in the world. Anyone could see he was happy, plump and healthy, dressed in clean clothes that fit him well.
“No, he looks very happy,” Beverly agreed. “But I have to follow the guidelines,” she added, not without sympathy. “Someone made a complaint about you.”
“Who?” Cindy shot back. “Who complained?”
“I have to keep that information confidential. But I have to ascertain that certain criteria are being met. And clearly they aren’t. The baby doesn’t even have his own bed.”
“He sleeps with me. Lots of parents let their little ones sleep in their bed.”
“But the rules state the child has to have his own bed. And a place to bathe. And heat.”
Oh, boy, Luke thought. He didn’t like the sounds of this.
“This is only temporary,” Luke put in. He extended his hand to the social worker. “I’m Deputy Sheriff Luke Rheems. I can vouch for Cindy—she’s a really great mother.”
Beverly shook his hand, silently appraising him. “I’m sure Ms. Lefler does the very best she can. Still, these arrangements aren’t satisfactory. Adam is ambulatory. He could wake up, walk outside, fall off the boat and drown.”
“That would never happen!” Cindy objected.
“Nevertheless, I’m afraid I’ll have to take temporary custody of Adam. We’ll put him in foster care until you can make other living arrangements that meet the state’s requirements.”
Cindy looked horrified. She wrapped her arms around Adam. “You are not taking my baby. No. No way.”
Beverly looked at Luke, pleading for understanding. “You’re in law enforcement. You understand how these laws work, don’t you?”
Unfortunately he did. But he agreed totally with Cindy. No way was Adam going into foster care. The mere thought of what could happen to a baby dropped into the hands of supposedly caring, qualified strangers made that instant coffee he’d drunk churn bitterly in his stomach.
“There must be some other way to deal with this,” Cindy said, obviously struggling not to lose her cool completely.
“Well, if there’s a qualified relative he could stay with,” Beverly said. “What about the father? Is he in the picture?”
Cindy opened her mouth to answer, no doubt about to inform Beverly that the father was deceased. But Luke beat her to the punch.
“Actually, I’m Adam’s father,” he said. “Cindy and I were just discussing the possibility of Adam coming to live with me for a while until she can pull things together.” He hadn’t planned to tell such a whopper. It had just come out of his mouth, naturally as could be.
Cindy’s jaw dropped, a denial ready, but Beverly smiled, obviously relieved. “Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so? That’s a different situation altogether. You two are on amicable terms, then?”
“Oh, yes,” Luke answered quickly to keep Beverly’s attention on him. Cindy was still gaping in shock, but so far she hadn’t objected aloud.
“Do you have experience caring for a baby?” Beverly asked suspiciously, obviously doubting that this big, strapping lawman knew the difference between a diaper and a pacifier.
“Oh, yes, ma’am. I grew up in a foster home with lots of kids. I got real good at the diaper changing and bottle warming.” As if to emphasize the point, he picked up Adam and cuddled him, knowing he would look perfectly natural and comfortable with the baby—and that Adam wouldn’t object.
Beverly nodded. “What sort of child-care arrangements could you make while you’re working?” she asked, taking notes now.
“My mother—well, she’s my foster mother—lives nearby. She’s retired and I know she’d love taking care of Adam while I’m at work.”
Beverly looked expectantly at Cindy, who had managed to school her face. “Is this arrangement satisfactory to you?”
“It’s not ideal,” she said. “But I’d rather that than foster care.”
Beverly’s eyes flickered with worry. “Do you have concerns about Deputy Rheems’s ability to adequately care for Adam?”
Cindy shook her head. “No. He’s very responsible. It’s just—oh, never mind. It’s fine.”
Beverly smiled. “Very good, then. I’ll get some information from you, then I’ll check back in a day or two to make sure everything’s A-OK.”
“Thank you,” Luke said, meaning it. Beverly took down some pertinent information about him—address, phone, work schedule, his foster mother’s name and address. Then she turned her attention back to Cindy.
“Now, then. Is there anything I can do to help you? Do you need food? Diapers?”
“I’m not some welfare mother,” Cindy said indignantly. “I’ve always paid my own way and I’ll continue to do so.”
Beverly seemed to frost over. “Excuse me, but I used to be a ‘welfare mother,’ as you call it. Everyone needs help now and then. Don’t let your pride get in the way of common sense.” She gave Adam a look of pity, tousled his downy hair, then saw herself out.
Luke and Cindy stared at each other in silence until the sound of Beverly’s heels thump-thumping on the wooden dock receded into the distance.
“Are you out of your mind?” Cindy reached for Adam, who had started to fret.
“I should think you’d be thanking me. I kept that woman from taking Adam away, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, with a huge lie! What’s going to happen when she finds out the truth?”
“She won’t find out.”
“Of course she will! She’ll go back to whoever made the complaint and tell them Adam’s going to live with his father, and then she’ll find out Adam’s father is dead and all hell will break loose.”
“Cindy, listen. Social workers have to adhere to privacy laws. If she tells the complainant anything, she’ll simply say that the matter is taken care of. Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry?”
Adam’s fussing got louder. Luke theorized the baby was responding more to the escalating tension than his hunger, but Cindy moved into the tiny galley and fished around in a box while jiggling Adam on one hip the way all mothers instinctively learned how to do. She produced a jar of baby cereal and a spoon.
“Don’t worry—right.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “That woman’s going to be back, and she’s going to expect to find Adam all cozy in your house, with his granny taking care of him.”
“That’s what she’ll find, all right.”
“Over my dead body. Just because you’re a deputy sheriff doesn’t mean you can take my kid away, so just get that out of your head.”
CINDY PULLED SOME ORANGE juice from a cooler of melting ice and poured it into a Tommy Tippee cup. Adam eagerly reached for the cup, the juice magically silencing his fretting.
She wished Luke would just go away. He was too big for this little boat, his presence too overpowering. Even Beverly, a complete stranger, hadn’t been immune to his sense of authority and the way his feet practically grew roots wherever he stood.
Cindy imagined Beverly hadn’t been immune to Luke’s sex appeal, either. What living, breathing woman could miss it? Though Beverly was at least ten years older than Luke, she’d batted her eyelashes at him like a teenage girl with a crush.
He was impossible to ignore, though Cindy was trying her hardest.
“Maybe