A Child's Gift. Linda Warren
“Yeah. But she’s sick and I can’t wake her up.”
That didn’t sound good and Rico feared the worst. “Where does your grandma live?”
“Over there.” The boy pointed toward the bakery’s windows.
“Did you walk here by yourself?” Rico hated to ask so many questions, but he needed answers.
Dustin shook his head. “Mickey came with me ’cause we were hungry.” The boy looked down at the dog and the dog licked his lips from the milk Anamarie had given him.
“Has your grandma been sick?”
“Yeah. She got moana.”
Rico thought about that for a minute and asked, “You mean pneumonia?”
“Yeah. She has to rest. She made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and milk and told me to be good. She didn’t wake up for supper so I made my own peanut butter jelly sandwich. Made one for Mickey, too. Grandma’s still sleeping. She won’t wake up and we don’t have any more peanut butter and jelly.”
Rico picked up the boy again and sat him in the chair. “Your grandma probably needs medical attention. I’m going to call someone to help her.”
“’Kay.” Dusty rubbed the side of his head and his eyelids fluttered. He was sleepy. He’d probably been up all night trying to wake his grandma.
There was a bench where customers could sit and wait for their orders. Rico turned to Anamarie. “Do you have any big jackets, a blanket or something?”
Rico laid Dusty on a big quilt Anamarie had provided. “Why don’t you take a nap while I find out about your grandma.”
“’Kay.” His eyelids fluttered again and in a second he was sound asleep. The dog hopped up on the bench and snuggled against the boy.
Rico stared at the boy who seemed lost and alone, and a memory from his past wedged its way into his mind. He tried forcing it away but it was right there on the edge of his memory—a little boy, about the same age as Dusty, facing loss and an undetermined future. His mother had just died from a drug overdose. The boy was half Latino and half white and neither side of the family wanted him, so he was put into foster care. Then a miracle happened. His great-grandmother on the Latino side of the family came and got him and raised him. She lived in Houston and she taught him about love, faith and God. She also taught him about respect and manners. Every day she preached right from wrong and at night when she put him to bed, she always told him she loved him. His great-grandmother had been his whole world. Then the gangs had moved into the neighborhood and his happy world had been turned upside down. He promised his grandmother he would never do drugs and he fought those outside influences every step of the way. His hand unconsciously touched the scar on his face. His life was never the same again. But that boy got a second chance. The Rebel family said that Rico had saved Egan’s life, but in truth Egan had saved Rico’s life.
Rico was going to make sure this little boy had every chance available to him. He pulled out his phone and called the sheriff.
ANAMARIE WATCHED AS Rico dealt with the boy. He was gentle, loving and caring, and the boy responded to that. Dustin didn’t even seem to notice the scar on Rico’s face, as most kids did. People in town steered clear of the mysterious man who worked on Rebel Ranch. He was often given the cold shoulder. The first time Anamarie had met him he had come into the bakery to buy kolaches for Egan’s dog. Any man who would take the time to buy kolaches for someone else’s dog had to be special, that was her thought at the time. And that thought had never changed. He came into the shop many times and they talked about nonsensical things. Her mother scolded her for talking to him, but Anamarie never listened to her.
He stood staring at the little boy. Dustin was adorable and she knew the sheriff would find out what had happened to Wendy. It would get sorted out. She had to restrain herself from gobbling up the little boy like Mickey had gobbled his food. She was good at restraining herself around children. That was one area she knew she couldn’t get involved. It would break her heart.
Her eyes rested on the man. Well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, Rico had dark brown eyes and hair and a lean muscled body. His hair was long and tied into a ponytail at his neck, giving him a roguish sort of look. His face was all angles and planes, sharp and defined. The scar across his left cheek made him appear dark and intimidating to others, but never to her. Something in her was drawn to him. He had an air of inherent strength that came from life’s lessons. He’d had a hard life and his persona spoke of that every time she saw him. When she looked into his dark eyes, all she could feel was the warmth they radiated and she knew there was a softer side to Jericho Johnson—a soft pleasant side. But his strength was always there.
About two years ago some boys who were being bullied placed bombs in the school and locked everyone inside the gym. Elias and Jericho had gone in to get everyone out, not knowing when the bombs would go off. Elias had gotten all the credit for that, but Jericho had also risked his life to save other people’s children. After that, the town’s attitude toward Jericho had changed a little. Some people spoke to him when they met him on the street, but not one of them would invite him into their home or invite him to dinner. Her mother was one of those people and some days that was hard for Anamarie to stomach.
It was about that same time Miss Kate had a problem with her heart and Jericho started coming in to get kolaches for breakfast so Miss Kate wouldn’t have to cook. It turned into a weekly thing and she couldn’t bear to think about not seeing him on Tuesday morning. They talked about many things, but they shied away from the personal. There were times she wanted to tell him about her past just to see how he would react. She never had that much courage, though. One rejection in her life was enough.
Earlier when she’d touched his hand, she just wanted to wrap her hand around his. And then she’d realized what she’d done and she was embarrassed. A woman her age was embarrassed at touching a man. How pathetic was that? Enough to give her cold feet. Since her fiancé had jilted her over twenty years ago she hadn’t dated anyone. She was nervous as a teenager. And that was really pathetic.
Rico walked over to her and she quickly gathered her thoughts.
“The sheriff’s going to Wendy Miller’s house to check things out.”
“If he’s out this time in the morning, that means there’s something really wrong with Wendy. She would never let him outside this early.”
He glanced toward the boy. “Yeah. I’m taking him over to the sheriff’s office until we find out. If something has happened to his grandmother, there has to be a relative who will take him.”
“He’s so adorable. I’m sure someone will want him.” Rico reached down to gather the boy into his arms and she quickly added, “Take the quilt. He’s still asleep. Call me when you find out anything.”
He frowned. “I don’t have your number.”
What! All the time she’d known Jericho amd she’d never given him her phone number. How stupid was that? Then it hit her. Maybe she was like the rest of the people in this town. She was willing to talk to him, but she would never invite him into her home. She would prove to him that she wasn’t like everyone else.
She pulled his phone from his pocket and added her number and then reached for hers on the counter and added his to hers.
“Done. We should have done that a long time ago.”
He settled Dustin on his shoulder and headed for the door.
“Rico...”
He glanced at her. “Hmm?”
She wanted to say something, but words failed her. Then she thought of the boxed kolaches on the counter. “What about the kolaches for Rebel Ranch?”
“I’ll get Elias to pick them up.”
“Okay.