The Lawman's Second Chance. Ruth Herne Logan
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her in church, but my guess is a big, fat no.”
“I concur. Come on, Josh.” He turned, opened the screen door and picked up one of the cutest little boys ever to walk the face of the planet. “Lisa, Josh. Josh, Lisa.”
“Hey, Josh.” She smiled at him, gave Emma’s shoulder a quick squeeze, then paused when an older woman charged through the door looking ready to do battle with anyone in her way. Lisa wisely shifted left.
“You’re going to leave Becky here? To miss church? That’s not right, Alex, and you know it.”
“Better than having a meltdown in church,” he replied as he fastened Josh into the car seat. “And no reason to mess up everyone’s Sunday. You sure you don’t mind staying, Lisa?”
“I was going to be here anyway. It’s fine.”
Emma climbed into the back seat. “See you later, Lisa! Sorry about all the drama.”
Lisa laughed. “Oh, honey, I was eight once. I invented drama. You go. Be good. Pray. Sing. Cut your father some slack.”
“Nancy, are you coming with us or heading back to your motel?” Alex directed a no-other-options look to the older woman.
She pressed her lips together, clearly displeased by her limited choices, then shrugged, moved to her car, climbed in and slammed the door shut.
Ouch.
She pulled out, turned left and headed for Route 19.
Alex backed out, and turned right toward Jamison.
Becky stared, mouth open, her gaze taking in the family car heading into the commercial center of the village, the stranger in her yard and her grandmother’s car growing fainter by the minute.
Lisa scored a point for the element of surprise, opened her no-line steno pad and started sketching the house layout. It took only a few moments before a small, impudent voice demanded, “Who are you?”
Lisa ignored her.
“I said, who are you?”
Lisa sketched swiftly, letting her gaze wander the home’s exterior. “Great brickwork,” she murmured, hoping her voice would ease the child’s ire. “And those shutters... Marvelous.”
“You like our house?”
Becky’s voice softened. Curiosity replaced anger in her gaze, her stature. “It’s lovely,” Lisa replied. “I remember noticing this house when I was about your age. They had the most beautiful gardens ever. Mrs. Ramsey knew everything there was to know about flowers and shrubs and trees. She even had a toad garden.”
Becky frowned, but drew closer. “A what?”
“A toad garden,” Lisa replied, eyes down, continuing her outline.
“What’s that?”
Lisa glanced at her watch. “Well, I’d be glad to tell you but aren’t you supposed to be at church with your family?”
Becky flushed, then sighed. “Yes.”
“I believe a deal can be struck, Becky Steele.” Lisa stuck out her hand. “I’m Lisa Fitzgerald from Gardens & Greens. Your dad and Emma came to see us about fixing these gardens.”
Becky nodded, excited. “We’re coming to see you tomorrow!”
Lisa sent her a doubtful look. “Do you think your father will bring you after this morning?”
The girl scowled, remorseful. “Probably not.”
“But,” Lisa went on, as if she had nothing better to do than drive disobedient little girls around, “if you go to church now and behave yourself...”
Becky gulped, shrugged and nodded.
“Maybe your dad will let you live.”
A smile blossomed on the little girl’s face. A small smile, one that said she might have discovered a kindred spirit in Lisa and liked the revelation.
“Shall I drive you over? You won’t be more than a minute or two late and if you promise to slip in quietly...”
“I will!”
“Good.” Lisa closed the steno pad with a satisfied nod. “I’ll explain about the toad garden when you get back.”
“Oh, thank you!” Becky turned, ready to go, then stopped. “Wait. Do I look okay?”
“Here.” Lisa straightened the girl’s red bow under a slightly mangled collar. “Much better.” Becky’s patent leather shoes bore smudges from toe-dragging along the sidewalk, but right now, having the kid turn her behavior around was clutch. Lisa climbed in, thrust the car into gear and drove through Jamison. She pulled up outside Good Shepherd and watched as Becky bounded up the steps. At the top, the girl turned and called out, “See you after church!” in a voice loud enough to interrupt the five concurrent services neighboring the Park Round.
Lisa put a finger to her lips.
Becky clapped a guilty but cute hand to an “oops!” mouth, then tiptoed through the door. All Lisa could do was pray she’d done the right thing.
Guilt swamped her as she turned down McCallister Street.
She’d flirted with Alex. Teased him. Acted as if everything was normal in her world.
It wasn’t, and between fighting cancer, being dumped then divorced, her brother’s wedding and her mother’s illness, she’d spent the last few years out of the dating loop, intentionally.
Alex Steele tempted her back into the mix, but how did a woman casually divulge that she no longer had natural breasts?
Awkward.
And the possible subsequent rejection?
That didn’t make the short list, ever again. Evan’s leaving had wounded more than her heart. It grieved her womanly soul, because part of her couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t signed on for damaged goods, a woman scarred and rebuilt. He’d vocalized his fears, that he couldn’t live with a ticking time bomb.
Lisa shared those fears with one major difference: she had no choice but to live with the threat of recurrence. She’d taken upper level statistics, she understood the theory of likelihood, but she’d lost that game once already.
No history of breast cancer on either side of the family: CHECK.
No detectable genetic markers making her a likely candidate: CHECK.
No behavioral choices that made her more susceptible to breast cancer: CHECK.
She got it anyway. Lisa swallowed a sigh.
She was doing fine on her own. Working, creatively running a great business and filling some of the void her mother’s death had left. Maggie Fitzgerald had been an avid volunteer, running school and 4-H programs. Lisa and Adam had the childhood blue ribbons to prove it.
But beyond that?
Lisa was better off keeping things with Alex Steele “business casual.” Safer for everyone, all around.
Chapter Three
“Hard at work, I see.” Alex softened the wry observation with a smile when he found Lisa lounging on his backyard swing after church. “Examining critical vantage points, I’m sure.”
He moved toward her, bearing gifts in the form of twenty-ounce to-go cups from the village café.
Lisa waved her sketch pad in protest. “Good landscape development needs to be considered from all angles and heights, including sitting. Is that coffee? Please say yes.”
He nodded. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like...”
“Cream, sugar, shot of caramel or chocolate.”
“The