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“Glad to hear it.” His voice was wry and his mother made a face at him.
“Spoilsport. What’s the mayor’s daughter like? I’d like to get a look at her.”
“I’m sure you’ll meet her soon enough. Everyone comes into the Hilltop eventually.” He sifted through his thoughts about the newest resident of Red Hill Springs. “She’s pretty. Dark brown hair, blue eyes. Five-three or four.”
“Once a cop always a cop. Sounds like you could pick her out in a lineup.”
He caught the sassy sarcasm and ignored it, instead choosing to appease his mother’s innate curiosity. “She seemed...I don’t know, lost? But also determined to make a go of that old place.” He tossed his keys into a tray on the counter, where his father had tossed his, along with his badge, for as long as Joe could remember. And then there was a pang, because Frank was gone. A heart attack had taken him from them with no warning a year ago next month.
Joe had been seven the first time he’d sworn he was leaving this town and never coming back. Eight when he’d stopped hoping his parents could be trusted. Twelve when he’d gotten caught trying to break into the police chief’s garage.
So yeah, he knew a little bit about being lost. He’d been an angry, defensive kid, striking out at everyone and trusting no one, but instead of arresting him, Frank had taken him inside to Bertie and Bertie had taken him under her wing. Slowly, he’d realized there were no more bruises, no more wondering when he would get to eat again, no more being scared every single minute of every day.
They’d rescued him from that life, even though they wouldn’t say so, and then they’d adopted him, giving him a real mom and dad, a brother, two sisters and a life he’d never expected. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get over the feeling of stepping into someone else’s life, wondering when they would realize he didn’t belong.
Bertie tossed some cherry tomatoes into the salad bowl. “Maybe she’s a little like Amelia, in a way, not having a daddy growing up? I think Amelia feels a little lost, too.”
And there it was, what his mother really wanted to get at. The very new relationship between him and his daughter. “Amelia has a daddy. Unfortunately, her mother—and believe me, I use that term loosely—was the only one who knew it.”
He heard a noise behind him, a small rush of air, and turned to see his daughter, Amelia. Just her back and a whirl of dark brown hair as she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Joe stared at the closed door, the perfect metaphor for their relationship. “She wasn’t at school today when I got there. She walked home alone again.”
He felt his mother’s hand on his back. “She’ll come around, bud. She’s had a lot of change to deal with. All that anger hides how she really feels.”
“She hasn’t spoken a word to me in the two weeks that she’s been here.” He had a lot of ground to make up with Amelia, he knew that. He may not be ready to be a dad, but he was one, and he didn’t want to screw it up. But where in the world did you start when you’d missed twelve years?
“Joe, she was dropped off at the door with a note and a backpack full of clothes that didn’t fit her. Give her some time. You weren’t exactly a bundle of joy when you first came here.”
That was an accurate statement. He paused for a second. “Did you ever regret it, taking me on?”
She shut the refrigerator door and grabbed his face between her hands, like she used to do when he was younger. “Darling boy, I would never regret you. You are my son in every way that counts. It’s tricky now, but soon you’ll be finding your way. I promise.”
Fighting the knot in his throat, he said, “I would do anything to be able to go back and make it right for her.”
After high school, he’d gone straight into basic training. He’d been in Afghanistan when Lori Ann was having his baby. She could’ve gotten word to him, but she didn’t try. He had no idea Amelia even existed until she showed up on his mom’s doorstep and he’d seen his own blue eyes staring up at him.
“I know you would do anything for her, and one day Amelia will understand that, too.” Constantly moving, she stirred the okra and tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pan. “It’s normal, Joe, to have feelings and questions about your childhood. You’ve had a rough few months. It’s no wonder you have questions.”
Maybe that was what brought Claire to Red Hill Springs, the questions that she’d never had the answers to.
“How long did you stay out there at the plantation? Was she nice?”
Long used to his mother’s seeming ability to mind-read, Joe shrugged, but he remembered the look on Claire’s face as she’d stared at her inheritance. “Her name is Claire. She seemed nice enough. A little thrown by the condition of the place. It’s falling down.”
“Is she staying at a hotel in Spanish Fort?”
“No, I think she’s staying there at the plantation.”
“That place is a dump.” Bertie pointed the spoon his way. He watched it warily as he sneaked a taste of the limas from the edge of the pan closest to him. “Go pick her up for dinner and tell her to bring her stuff. She can sleep in Wynn’s room.”
“Mom, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He rubbed his shoulder, sending a sidelong glance at the firmly closed door to the living room. “We have a lot going on right now.”
“We do.” His mother nodded in agreement. “But no one should show up in town and be left without a hot meal or a clean place to lay her head.”
He didn’t want to get involved. He wasn’t like his mother. Trusting, having faith, it didn’t come easily to him. A wary sense of self-preservation had been ingrained in him as a kid. Then he fought a war on foreign soil. And then he became a cop.
But he picked up his keys and said, “You’re sure about this?”
“Do I look undecided?” His mom had blond hair cut into a straight bob at her chin. She always looked perfectly groomed, even standing over a hot stove, or after a long day on her feet in the café. What she didn’t look was indecisive.
Arguing with his mother was pointless. Once Bertie took on a project, the best thing to do was get out of the way. Even his father could never say no to her, which was how they ended up with two cats, four dogs and an extra kid.
Now she was wanting to take in the mayor’s daughter, and that was the last thing he needed.
Claire leaned over the kitchen table, her pen moving almost as fast as her mind as she made an action list for the next day. A small mountain of chocolate wrappers smushed into little silver balls lined the table. The shock had faded and been replaced by a certainty that no matter how hard this was, she wasn’t going to back down. Of course, electricity would help.
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