A Home Come True. Cheryl Harper
for canines, Mama. You were right about that.” Luke tossed the towel over the dish drainer and leaned against the counter. “This place? Perfect.”
She glanced down at the little girl, who was intently listening. “You are right. And this family could use a new member, one who doesn’t have homework to fight over.”
Luke smiled. “We’ll figure that out. He’ll figure it out. You know that.”
She smiled back. “I do. I’ve fought harder battles than this.” She poked his arm. They’d had some legendary shouting matches when he’d first arrived at the Hollisters’ house.
Until his brother, a brawny kid named Alex, had taken him outside, hung him up by his jacket and made some very creative threats. That was all it had taken for Luke to get the picture. From that day until his brother had been shot by a stray bullet during a street fight, he’d done his best to follow in what had been his cooler older brother’s footsteps.
August 14, 2000. That was the day everything had changed.
Luke had become the older brother. And he’d decided then and there that he’d spend the rest of his life doing his best to make sure criminals ended up behind bars.
No matter what it took.
Did that make him popular? Not always.
But it was satisfying at the end of the day.
“What did the crazy rich lady have to say?” his mother asked absentmindedly. She washed and rinsed in a comfortable rhythm. Maybe she was better at this than the dishwasher.
“She wanted to know about Sarah Hillman. They’re friends.” Unless he concentrated, he’d fall behind in his drying duties and his mother would frown. Luke quickly opened cabinets and put things away.
His mother hummed.
“She didn’t seem all that crazy.” Luke wasn’t exactly sure when his mother had started calling Jen crazy. It had been before the fence people showed up at the crack of dawn, though, and that was the only real sign of psychosis he’d seen. “Turns out, she’s a teacher. She might have a suggestion to help Joseph. Renita thinks she teaches math.” The unease he’d felt ever since he’d moved back in and been cast in the role as head of the family lightened a bit. Having something to do instead of a list of worries was good. He waited for his mother to say it was a good idea, a bad idea, or...something. She was the real head of this crew. He wanted her to be in charge.
“Pretty. If you like that sort of thing.” His mother cut a sly glance at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Angry redheads aren’t my type,” Luke answered, although in Jen Neil’s case, that wasn’t strictly true. Something about her was impossible to ignore.
His mother’s forlorn huff was the first warning that he’d strayed into dangerous territory. “You need to find someone nice, Luke. A woman who might distract you from your job.”
Jen Neil wasn’t nice. Nice made him think of puppies and daisies.
Jen had a rescued pit bull and plans for a spiked fence. In the garden of life, that woman was a cactus.
Nice? No. Interesting? Yes. Maybe even exciting. She had personality to spare.
“Holly Heights is an excellent place to raise a family. You told me that yourself, remember?” she sang in a teasing tone.
While it was good to have a touch of the old Connie Hollister back, this wasn’t the subject he wanted to stick with for long. If he told her he wasn’t sure he wanted a family, she would wilt completely, and lying to her was next to impossible.
“I remember.” Luke took the last dripping plate from her and listened with relief as the water drained. He could make it out of there.
“Being a police officer is a wonderful thing, son,” she said as she cupped his cheek, “but you were meant to be a father, too. You wait and see. She’s close, whoever she is. I can feel it.”
Luke didn’t have the right words so he smiled at his mother and watched her bend to speak to Mari. “Come with me, young lady. We have some bushes to trim the right way.”
After they left the kitchen, Luke stepped out on the deck that had sold him on the house. Here, all there was, was the faint sound of birds chirping and the breeze rustling through the trees. He took a deep breath as he braced his hands on the railing. “One year. You do this for one year and everything will be fine.”
A boring job. A cluttered, cramped house. All the problems that came along with angry teenagers.
He could do anything for a year.
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