A Place To Call Home. Sharon Sala

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СКАЧАТЬ with one, she’d wound up with a baby and no husband. That wasn’t happening to her again.

      She dressed quietly, hoping to get into the kitchen and start breakfast before Rachel woke up. Considering the weather, she opted for a pair of blue jeans rather than shorts, and tucked her T-shirt into the waistband before giving herself a last look in the mirror. Her hair was neatly braided, her clothes were old but clean. She’d even managed to get an old sandal onto her swollen foot without too much discomfort. But as she exited her bedroom, she kept feeling as if she was leaving something undone. And then Judd walked out of his room and for a startled moment, they were alone in the hallway.

      Judd started to speak, when Charlie put a finger to her lips and shushed him before leading him into the kitchen.

      “Rachel,” she explained, pointing back down the hall. “She’s a light sleeper.”

      He nodded, but his thoughts were on the uneven row of tiny curls already popping out from her neat hairdo and feathering across her forehead.

      Charlie reached for the coffeepot and began filling it with water. He was making her nervous.

      “Did you sleep well?” she asked.

      “Yes.”

      The silence between them was noticeable.

      “How’s your foot?” Judd finally asked.

      She turned, a fake smile on her face. “Better, thanks.”

      Now the lull in the conversation was uncomfortable.

      Finally, they both turned to speak at once, then laughed uncomfortably.

      “You first,” Charlie said.

      Judd shook his head. “No, ma’am. Ladies first.”

      She set a skillet on the stove, then took a bowl of eggs from the refrigerator.

      “Scrambled okay with you?”

      He grinned wryly. “It pretty much fits the description of my brain, so I guess that sounds about right.”

      Charlie stopped. This wasn’t the first time he’d made light of his exodus from his job. She suspected he wasn’t really as carefree about it as he claimed.

      She set the eggs down. “Can I ask you something?”

      He shrugged. “Have at it.”

      “What happened to you?”

      His smile faded. “Hell if I know,” he said, and turned away.

      “I’m sorry,” Charlie said. “It’s really none of my business.”

      Judd sighed and made himself face her again. “My partner died on the eve of his retirement. He took a bullet meant for me and I can’t get the memory of his wife’s face out of my head.”

      “Oh, Judd…”

      He grimaced. “That’s exactly what she said when I told her Dan was dead.”

      “Being a cop is a dangerous occupation,” she said. “He knew the risks. So did his wife.”

      Judd digested her answer. Logically, he knew she was right, but logic and emotions rarely went hand in hand.

      “Charlotte?”

      Charlie looked up. Rarely did anyone call her by her full name, but hearing the syllables roll softly out of Judd’s mouth gave her shivers.

      “Yes?”

      “Can I ask you something?”

      She hesitated, then managed a smile and nodded. “Sure, why not?”

      “Did you love Rachel’s father?”

      Her smile twisted bitterly. “Once, when I was still naive enough to believe people meant what they said.”

      Judd flinched. He understood her anger, but was surprised by the answering chord he felt within himself. He knew firsthand the pain of abandonment and lies. Impulsively, he touched the side of her face.

      “I’m sorry.”

      Charlie froze, telling herself to ignore the warmth of his palm against her cheek and the tenderness in his voice.

      “You have nothing to apologize for,” she said shortly, and turned away before she made a fool of herself.

      Judd sighed. He felt sad, frustrated, even though he understood her unwillingness to compromise. She’d done it once and look what had happened.

      And then the sound of little footsteps pattering down the hall broke the mood. Moments later, Rachel came into the kitchen, her blanket bunched under her arm like a sack and her thumb in her mouth. Her curls were in tangles and, once again, she was missing a sock. She was so endearing, he reached down and picked her up. Without thinking, he nuzzled his nose against the side of her neck, inhaling the sweet baby scent, and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.

      “Good morning, punkin. What’s that you have in your mouth?”

      Then he teased at her thumb, tugging gently without intending to remove it from her mouth. The unexpected game brought a giggle out of Rachel that warmed Judd’s heart.

      Charlie was mesmerized by what she was seeing. The trust her daughter had just given to Judd was surprising, as was the lump in Charlie’s throat. All she could think was, so this was what their lives would have been like if Pete Tucker had been a different man. Rachel would have had a father and she would have had a—

      She inhaled sharply and reached for the eggs, angrily breaking them one by one into a bowl. Stop it, she warned herself. Stop it right now. Fantasizing was one thing, but letting it go too far could be dangerous.

      Wade came in on Rachel’s heels, and soon the kitchen was full of noise and laughter and Rachel begging for something to eat. And in the midst of it all, Judd sat, quietly watching and absorbing the love that bound them. Wade left soon afterward in his patrol car, leaving Judd to ride into town later with Charlie. The day was already full of things to be done. Charlie had shopping to do. Rachel had a checkup at the doctor’s. Wade had a missing man to find, and Judd needed to see a man about fixing his Jeep. Ordinary things on an ordinary day. But why, Judd wondered, if it was so ordinary, did he feel as if he was on the brink of discovery?

      Waves of pain rolled across Raymond Shuler’s leg and up the muscles in his back. He’d lost track of time. Living behind the blindfold and gag was disorienting. Day turned to night, then back to day again. Every time he began to come to, someone poked a needle in his butt and sent him back to La La Land, which was fine with him. Lack of consciousness made his situation more bearable. He knew little more than he had when he’d first been taken, other than the fact that he was still naked, and whatever they’d done to his hip was probably infected. The heat from the wound permeated his entire body, often racking him with fever and chills. The mattress on which he was lying belly-down smelled like chicken feathers and dust. If he hadn’t been so sick, he would have been starving. Except for water, not a morsel of sustenance had passed his lips since this nightmare began. Every now and then when lucidity СКАЧАТЬ