Support Your Local Sheriff. Melinda Curtis
the fleece of her hoodie was too thick and the heater above her too warm. Her toes were still cold.
“Don’t talk about it as if I was hunting deer.” Julie stared into her mug while Duke slurped his milk and black birds twittered and the morning fog dissipated and life went on happily for other people.
JULIE WASN’T DYING.
The relief when Nate had received the return text message this morning from Captain Bradford at Sacramento PD had lifted a weight off his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how stressed-out he’d been until he’d nearly run out to meet her in front of El Rosal. Only her scowl had slowed his steps and kept him from wrapping his arms around her. Only her scowl and April’s assumption on their wedding day that he’d loved Julie more than he’d loved his bride-to-be.
Love Julie? He didn’t know how to love someone. That was something you learned by example from your parents.
And so, he’d brushed aside foolish emotions, stopped in his tracks and looked at Julie closely. Blood loss and trauma from being shot took a toll on a body. He’d expected Julie to look rested this morning. But this... She looked worse. Pasty complexion. Dark circles under her eyes. Mouth thinned with tension.
Perhaps his son was partly to blame. Nate’s niece was a good sleeper, but that didn’t mean Duke was. He knew from his sister that being a sole caregiver was draining. Julie didn’t have much energy left to drain. So he’d plucked Duke from the stroller and taken him to the kitchen to give Julie some relief. But when he’d returned, Julie had looked more haunted than before.
The midweek breakfast crowd at El Rosal was at its peak. People were starting their days with a hearty meal. Nate had a long to-do list, rounds to make, people to check up on. It would all have to wait. Unless there was an emergency, Julie was his priority, along with Duke.
Nate’s glance fell on his son. The boy had felt right in his arms when he’d carried him back to the kitchen. Long ago he’d decided not to be a father. Fatherhood should be a choice. Last night, he’d vowed to explain to Julie why he couldn’t be a father, without explaining anything at all. But first, he had to ease Julie’s suffering.
“You aren’t sleeping.” Nate could relate. He hadn’t slept much last night either. “You have to talk to someone about the shooting.” Taking a life was taboo. Breaking a taboo could rattle even the strongest person.
“I sleep fine.” Julie scowled, but the effect was ruined by the light breeze pushing wisps of blond hair across vacant eyes.
“You can talk to me,” Nate persisted. “Just like you used to.” When they’d worked together, she’d unloaded emotions with him like she unloaded bullets at the shooting range. It was part of her venting process. She’d talk and he’d listen.
Today, she let silence be her answer.
Nate wanted to lean across the narrow table, slip his hand to the nape of her neck and make her stop hiding, stop bottling up her emotions and tell him about it. About April. About the shooting. About her feelings for him.
Nate rocked back in his seat. Julie was as off-limits as fatherhood.
“Ba-con.” Duke picked up another piece, grinning at Julie.
She stopped glaring at Nate and grinned back at Duke.
He’d seen a grin similar to hers often on his sister’s face when she gazed at Camille. “You want to keep him.”
“Anyone with a heart would.” Julie lifted her chin, daring him to admit he didn’t have a heart.
She didn’t understand his childhood hadn’t been carefree and loving, as hers had been. He enjoyed children, but he was satisfied enjoying other people’s children. And yet, if he admitted that...if he signed over rights to Duke, Julie would leave town. She’d go home and pretend to be fine when the life she’d taken would be eating her inside.
Flynn entered the patio wearing faded blue jeans and a ratty T-shirt. He was a dot-com millionaire who dressed like a construction worker. Since he’d become a father, he’d been dressing like an out-of-work construction worker. He’d worn that same ratty T-shirt two days ago. Flynn didn’t quite meet Nate’s gaze. “Do you have something for me?”
Nate handed a thick envelope that had been sitting on the chair to Flynn. “Those are all the citations for the past six months.” Flynn had requested them last night. He was helping the town council investigate Nate’s job performance.
Flynn nodded his thanks and wove his way between tables to where the mayor sat in the corner.
Mayor Larry wore black yoga pants, an oversize sweatshirt and the false smile of a lifelong politician. He held Nate’s future in his hands. And not in a tight clasp either.
Would the mayor back him in the race? The breeze shifted, blowing cold air in Nate’s face.
“They’ll be talking about you.” Julie set down her mug, restored enough with caffeine and a change in topic to take a poke at him.
It was a weak poke. “I’m a sheriff, not an administrator.” He might be powerless about his career, but he could do something to help Julie’s.
“Sheriff Nate.” It was Agnes. The short town councilwoman carried a coffee cup from Martin’s and a pastry bag that Julie eyed with envy. “I meant to ask for an introduction last night. Who’s your friend?”
Nate introduced Julie and Duke. He was going to stop at names, but impulsively, he added, “Duke is my son.”
“I Duke,” the boy said proudly scratching his head and dragging his hair over the Landry ears. “You Nay.” He pointed at Nate.
Unexpectedly, happiness buoyed Nate’s cheeks, trying to lift them into a smile.
Duke’s words seemed to have the opposite effect on Julie. She was frowning.
“I see the resemblance now. He’s adorable.” Agnes gave Julie a kind, if shrewd, look. “Sheriff, I hadn’t realized you’d been married before.”
“He wasn’t. He knocked up my sister and jilted her.” The frown vanished and Julie’s face bloomed with color.
That color, that spark in her eyes. It almost made the awkwardness of his past worth telling.
“To be fair,” Nate said flatly, the way he gave testimony on the witness stand. “April didn’t tell me she was pregnant.” And didn’t that still sting.
“Do you mind if I use the town phone tree to spread the word?” Agnes tapped Julie’s shoulder with the back of her hand as if sharing a joke. “I’d like to say I’m pulling your leg, but we love gossip as much as we love our sheriff.” She gave Nate a fond smile. “Well, off to my meeting.” She joined Flynn and the mayor, but fiddled with her phone before engaging in conversation.
The phone tree. Julie had no idea what she was in for.
Nate felt compelled to warn her. “By midafternoon, everyone will know your name. But half the population will have gotten the story wrong. They’ll say I jilted you, and that Duke is our son.”
Our son. His gaze stuck on Julie’s gray eyes.
“I’ll gladly correct them.” Julie beamed.
She hadn’t smiled at him like that in years. A feeling long buried in his chest climbed into his throat. He didn’t have a word for that feeling. April had tried to call it love. But... Love for Julie? Love for her mercurial moods and her broad smile? For her dedication to her career, her need for justice and her bighearted, slightly naive view of the world? He appreciated all those things about her. He’d missed all those things about her. But love? If he truly loved her, how could he have lived without her for more than two years?
Arturo