Lonestar Homecoming Read online

  “Problems with the kids this week with me gone?”

  “No, they’ve been very good.” She wet her lips and took another step. “I-I’ve got a problem.”

  He motioned to the sofa. “Sit down.” At least she was going to share it with him. He hadn’t figured her out yet. He liked her. She was great with the kids. But she held so much of herself back that he hadn’t been able to get a handle on who she really was.When she walked past him, he caught a whiff of vanilla. The clean, light scent was like the mask she’d shown him so far. A plain, blank canvas. But he knew there was more underneath.

  She arranged herself on the sofa so the oversized robe covered her fully. Her toes peeked out under the hem. Pale-pink polish adorned them.When Michael realized he was staring, he averted his gaze from her tiny feet, then tugged at the collar of his shirt.

  “So what’s the problem?” he asked.

  She clasped her hands together in her lap. “We’re enrolling the kids in school tomorrow, but I was thinking about homeschooling Hope. Do you suppose I could get an advance for books? I’ve been saving as much of my wages as I can, but with so many things to replace, it’s not quite enough.”

  He frowned. “Why would you want to homeschool? The school in Bluebird is small and intimate. She’ll get plenty of attention and can interact with other kids.”

  She looked down at her hands. “I-I just think it might be best.”

  “Best for her? Or for you? You don’t have any experience teaching, do you?”

  She cupped her face in her hands and sighed. “I can’t enroll her in school. It’s the records.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “I get it.Your fiancé might track her here. Is he that bad?”

  She pleated the robe with her fingers. “It would ruin my life if he found me. I don’t know what to do.” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before looking up at him.“What can I do to keep our whereabouts secret, Michael?”

  His name on her lips shouldn’t have made a blip in his pulse.The move, the reunion with his kids, and events on the job must have been more wearing than he’d expected. “Change her name maybe? I know the town lawyer.You could change both your names.”

  “But that will take a long time.What about school in the meantime?”

  He rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. Let me talk to the principal in the morning. I have to enroll my two hoodlums too.You don’t even have a birth certificate for her, do you?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not something I typically carry with me.”

  He grinned. “Stupid question, huh? If we can transfer her records from the old school, they’ll have a copy of her birth certificate.”

  “But we have the same problem with tracking us here if the records are transferred.”

  He nodded before she finished. “Maybe homeschooling would be best for a week or so.”

  “A week or so? What will that gain me?”

  “Then you could say you’ve been homeschooling her and could start from scratch. They’d have to test her, but we might be able to skate on the identity thing for a while.What books do you need? I’ll get you some.”

  “If it’s only for a short time, it’s not worth buying them. I could get some books at the library in town.”

  “They could get whatever you need on interlibrary loan.”

  A smile, one that looked genuine, curved her lips. “Thanks. I’ll leave you alone to your reading.”

  He wanted to tell her not to go—that he didn’t want to be alone— but he kept his mouth shut and watched her rise and pad from the room in her bare feet. He should be used to his own company and that of other men. His stint in Iraq had taught him about self-sufficiency and the depth of his internal reserves, but there was something about a woman’s presence that brought calm to a room. Not that he’d ever had much of it. He had no real memories of his mother, and his marriage had lasted only long enough to produce the kids. Kate wanted excitement and the constant stimulation of parties. He’d craved the peace found only at home with his family.

  His thoughts went back to his dilemma.Who would care for the kids if the cartel was successful? A way out came to mind, but he wasn’t sure he was that desperate.

  THE SQUEALS OF CHILDREN AWAKENED GRACIE. THINKING SHE’D OVER slept, she bolted upright, then realized it was only seven.The kids were up early. She stepped to the adjoining room and glanced at Hope’s empty cot, then grabbed her robe and threw open the door.The scent of cinnamon wafted on the air.Waffles? Rolls? Whatever it was, the aroma made her tummy rumble. She’d only picked at her supper last night.

  She followed the fragrance and found Michael in the kitchen with all three children and the dog. Flour dusted their pajamas and their hair. And the counter and the floor. Caesar’s black fur had a dusting of white. Even Michael had a swipe of it on his left cheek. Hope sprinkled powdered sugar on waffles, and Jordan followed it up with cinnamon. In heavy doses. No wonder Gracie could smell it from upstairs.

  She rescued the waffles from the girls. “Smells good.”

  Jordan made a grab for the plate. “It needs more cinnamon.”

  “I think the next one needs it more.” She slid another plate of waffles in front of her, then turned in time to stop Evan before he overflowed the glasses with orange juice.

  “Thanks.” Michael swiped at his forehead with the back of his arm. “I thought this would be easier with the kids’ help.”

  She smiled. “Maybe not easier, but more fun.” It took a special sort of guy to let kids play with sugar and cinnamon. Something more than military discipline lurked beneath that close-cropped haircut. She had the kitchen to rights in a few minutes, and the kids sat down to eat.

  “Ew,” Evan said.“It tastes funny.”He spit the bite back onto his plate.

  “Evan, that’s rude,” Michael said. He grabbed a paper towel and scooped away the partially eaten bit. “You probably got one with too much cinnamon.”

  “It’s not my fault,” Jordan said, raising her voice. “I put just enough on it. He’s being mean.”

  “Kids, your dad worked hard on breakfast.The least you could do is be grateful,” Gracie said. She settled beside Hope.

  Hope leaned over. “Mommy, it tastes funny. Salty.”

  Salty? Gracie cut a piece with her fork and tasted it. She nearly choked. “Um, Michael, did you use baking powder or baking soda?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s all the same, isn’t it?”

  “No.” She laughed and went to the cupboard and pulled down the yellow box of baking soda. “Was it this you used?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Baking soda. I had Evan help me and he got a little much in there, but I figured it would just help them rise more. Is something wrong?” He lifted a bite to his lips and tasted it, then grimaced before manfully swallowing it. “It’s gross.”

  Jordan tasted it and spit it out. “Can I have cereal?”

  Michael stood and began dumping the waffles.“Yeah.You need help?”

  “Dad, I’m eight. I can fix my own cereal.”

  Gracie hid her smile behind her hand, but a giggle escaped that swelled when Michael glowered at her. He was pretty cute in that apron, but she wasn’t about to say so.

  “At least you let the kids help,” she said. “How about an omelet?”

  “Kick a man when he’s down,” he muttered, but he was smiling. “I was trying to save you work.”

  “And I appreciate it.” She glanced at her watch.“We need to hurry if we want to get there before the line starts.”

  “I get to go to school,” Hope chanted.

  Gracie hadn’t explained anything to her daughter yet. The tears would flow when Hope found out. She loved school. She exchanged a glance with Michael.

  “I’ll talk to the principal,” he mouthed.

  He stared at her for a long moment, and she wondered what that was all about. It was as if he’d seen her clearly for the first time. She couldn’t quite make out his expression. Speculation? Distr
ust? She wished she had the courage to ask him.

  “I’ll fix the toast,” Jordan offered.

  “That would be great. Hope, you get out the jam and butter,” Gracie said when she saw the frown gathering on her daughter’s face. Hope wasn’t used to having to share her mother’s attention. “We can all help.”

  By the time they were ready to go to town an hour later, Gracie was limp from Jordan’s tears over not being able to wear the shirt she wanted (in the laundry) and Evan’s proclamation that his sneakers were too small. She’d managed to find him a pair that fit, but Jordan had to endure wearing a pink shirt she claimed she hated.

  Once at the school, Michael disappeared to the principal’s office with his two while Gracie took Hope to a bench outside to explain that she couldn’t go with the other kids yet.

  “It’s just for a little while,” she told Hope. “We have to get some records transferred.We had to leave without them, remember?”

  Tears rushed to Hope’s eyes. “I want to go to kindergarten,” she wailed. She hid her face in Gracie’s lap. Caesar whined and licked Hope’s cheek.

  Gracie smoothed her daughter’s soft curls. “I know, sweetheart. Maybe you and I can have some special time.”

  “Can we go see Betsy every day?”

  “Betsy will be in school too.”

  Hope’s face crumpled again, and Gracie wanted to cry herself. She hugged her daughter and promised they could bake cookies together and go for field trips to see the birds.

  Michael exited the school with Evan and Jordan in tow. “Let’s go to the library,” Michael said. “We’ll get you some books, Hope.Then your mommy can teach you at home for a little while.”

  “I want to go with the other kids.” She hid her face against Gracie’s leg.

  Gracie exchanged a helpless glance with Michael.“How did it go?”

  “We’ll talk later. Come with me.”

  “What about Caesar?”

  “I’ll let him wait in the back of the truck. It’s in the shade.” He called the dog to him and told Caesar to stay in the truck.

  The library was across the street from the school.The low-slung concrete-block building, its windows coated with reflecting film, hunkered on the rocky lot. She and the children followed his stiff shoulders up the walk and into the coolness of the building.

  “What did the principal say?” she asked when she caught up with him outside the front door.

  “I’m working on it.”

  There was something going on that she didn’t understand. Michael’s shoulders were tense under his camo. He stared at her as if he was trying to read her mind. Standing there with the sun heating her skin, she wanted to bolt. It wasn’t that there was an air of menace between them. But what emotion hooded his eyes and tightened his mouth?

  “Let’s go,” he said after a long moment of silence.

  He walked toward the bank of computers along an inside wall. She took the kids to the children’s section where story hour was going on, then wandered to a computer. After having been cut off from the world for two weeks, she longed to know what the papers had said about the agents’ deaths. Michael wasn’t at a computer like she’d expected. He was in a corner with a big guy in a cowboy hat, and the two huddled together in conversation.

  She launched the browser and surfed to the San Diego Union-Tribune.There was nothing about the shooting on today’s news, so she searched for Cid’s name.Two articles appeared, and a sheen of perspiration broke out on her forehead. Her hand shook as her finger hovered over the mouse. Did she even want to read about him? She wet her lips and clicked the mouse to launch the article.

  “Fiancée sought for information in shooting deaths,” the headline proclaimed.

  Gracie gasped, and Michael glanced over at her. She managed a smile, but she wanted to burst into tears.The Feds couldn’t think she had anything to do with the murders. She quickly scanned the article. The dead agents had been found outside her home, and she had been seen fleeing the site in a wedding dress.The Feds were looking for her and Cid. She wanted to lean her head against the keyboard and wail.

  Should she call the police in San Diego? If she did, they might be able to track her phone signal. Maybe she could write them a letter and send it to one of her clients to post for her in San Diego. She rubbed her forehead.This was more than she could deal with.

  Would she and Hope have to flee this haven too?

  8

  THE FAN ABOVEMICHAEL’S HEAD BLEW WARM AIR INSTEAD OF COLD. Wally Tatum’s face grew more somber as Michael explained what was happening in his life.

  The attorney scratched his chin. “So if the unthinkable happens and you’re killed in the line of duty, the kids would be parceled out to foster care.”

  Michael nodded. “I don’t even like hearing you say that.”

  “Anyone else you could ask to be their guardians?”

  “There is no one,” he said. “I’ve got friends, but you don’t saddle friends with two kids to raise.” Rick and Allie were busy helping disadvantaged kids, and they had their hands full. He couldn’t ask this of them, not when he’d been out of touch with Rick until recently. And Allie was a new acquaintance.

  “Army buddies?”

  He shook his head. “They all have their own lives.”

  “I get it.You’re someone who doesn’t like to ask for help,” he said. “Maybe you’d better be finding a wife.”

  Wally had brought it up first, not him. “I grew up motherless myself. I sure don’t want that for my kids.What if I remarried and my wife adopted the kids?” Gracie’s sweet smile flashed through his mind.

  Wally grinned. “You holding out on me, son? Who’s the lucky woman?”

  “Hardly lucky,” Michael said. “What if that happened? What about a new wife adopting them?”

  “Then she’d be their legal mother. The state wouldn’t take them either.”

  Just as he’d thought when the crazy idea first occurred to him last night. “The best thing for me to do is stay alive,” he said with a grin.

  “Might be easier said than done.You mentioned a price on your head.”

  “I’m careful.”

  “No matter how careful you are, it could happen. I always tell my clients to plan for the unthinkable.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’d better do that.Thanks,Wally. Send me your bill.”

  “Consider it a welcome-home gift.”Wally clapped him on the shoulder, then strolled to the exit.

  Michael glanced at Gracie. She sat hunched in front of the computer. He watched her chew her lip and study the screen as though it held the answer to all her problems.

  He walked toward her, and she glanced up. “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded and jumped to her feet.The screen was still up on her computer as he neared. She reached down to close the window, but he saw the San Diego newspaper logo before it blinked off. She was looking up news back in San Diego, maybe checking on old friends. He took her elbow and she jumped. His fingers tightened, and he steered her toward the children’s department.The kids were still listening to the story.

  “How much longer?” he asked a library aide.

  She glanced up at the big clock on the wall. “Another half an hour unless you want to take them.”

  “We’ll let them stay.” It would give him time to talk to Gracie alone. “I need to talk to you.”

  He guided her out the door. The creosote bushes by the front door gave off a pungent odor, and he saw her wrinkle her nose. He inhaled and let the aroma fill his lungs.The Chihuahuan Desert had a beauty found no other place.

  Caesar greeted him with a woof and a concerned stare. The dog always knew when he was upset. Michael opened the truck door for her, then went around to his side.This probably wasn’t going to go well.

  The sun had already turned the cab into an oven, and he turned the air-conditioning to full blast. He swiped his forehead but knew the perspiration beading there had little to do with the heat.

  “Everyt
hing okay?” Gracie’s blue eyes held his gaze.

  He liked looking at her. In spite of her problems, the stillness she pulled around herself calmed him. What he was about to suggest would help her, too, and that made it easier to bring up. “I’ve got a problem. I need your help.”

  Her smile came, a sweet curve. “Michael, you saved my life. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

  He swallowed hard. “It’s a lot to ask, Gracie.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I had a brother. Philip was two years younger than me.The Border Patrol was his life. He lived, ate, and slept his job.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m just doing my duty. Philip let his emotions get the best of him. He never could think things through dispassionately.”

  “He sounds like someone I’d like.”

  “He was a great guy.” His eyes misted.

  Gracie touched his hand. “Was?”

  “He busted a big movement of drugs coming into the country. In the confrontation, two men in the drug cartel were killed. Both were brothers of the kingpin, who swore revenge on Phil. One night when he was on his way home, someone ran him off a curve up on King Mountain. He went over the edge and into the canyon. His truck burst into flames.There was no body left to recover.”

  He coughed at the lump that formed in his throat. Most days he never let himself imagine what Phil’s final moments must have been like, knowing he was hurtling toward certain death. Clearing his throat, he forced himself back to the present. “It was a revenge killing.”

  She put her hand over his. “I’m so sorry, Michael.” Her fingers tightened. “I know it hurts.”

  Had he ever felt a hand so soft? Or seen eyes such a clear shade of blue? And why did she draw him so strongly? She was nearly a stranger. No, not nearly. She was a stranger. “I shouldn’t trust you, Gracie, but I do.Why is that?”

  Moisture glistened in her eyes, and she withdrew her hand. “I’m nothing special,” she muttered.

  “Yes, you are.” He reached over and took her hand again. “I think we can help each other.”

  Her eyes grew more tender. “I’d do anything I can to help you and your children, Michael.You rescued me when I had nowhere else to turn. I owe you.”