Diana Palmer - Protector

* * *

Zack Tallman was lean, tall, olive-skinned and black-eyed. He had Spanish blood, but he never spoke about his ancestry. He was thirty years old, and one of the best deputies Hayes had ever hired.

He came into the bedroom carrying a huge suitcase. He put it down on a straight chair by Hayes’s bed. “I think that’s everything you asked for.” He opened it.

With some difficulty, Hayes got out of bed and looked into the suitcase. “Yep,” he said, smiling as he pulled out the videos. “That’s everything.”

“You and your cartoon movies,” Zack sighed.

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with cartoons,” Hayes said defensively. He pulled out pajamas and underwear and a robe and slippers. “I want a shower, but I have trouble standing. You feel like helping me?”

“No problem, boss,” Zack chuckled. “You’d do the same for me.”

“In a heartbeat,” he replied. He managed a smile. “Thanks. I feel dingy.”

“No doubt.”

* * *

Zack helped him into the shower and stood outside the cubicle while Hayes managed to bathe himself and even shampoo his hair, one-handed of course. Minette had even thought of toiletries to put in the bathroom, because the brands were masculine. There was a razor on the sink, and when he was dried and dressed, with a little help from Zack, he even managed to shave.

“I think I’ll live,” he told the other man as he sank onto the bed under the covers. “Thanks a million, Zack.”

“You’re welcome. Need anything else?”

“Yes. Get out there with Yancy and find the guy who shot me,” Hayes replied.

Zack saluted. “On my way.”

“Keep me posted,” Hayes reminded him.

“You know I will.”

“And can you keep feeding Andy and Rex for me?” he asked hesitantly.

“You bet.”

“If you run out of fruit and veggies for Andy...”

“You had more than enough money in the cookie jar to take care of that,” Zack assured him. It was where Hayes kept his spare change, and over months of use, it added up to a tidy little sum.

Hayes laughed. “And people say spare change is useless.”

“Useless, my left foot,” Zack replied. “I’m saving up mine for a trip to Tahiti.” He frowned. “I figure by the time I’m seventy-two, I’ll have just enough.”

“Good grief.”

Zack grinned. “Just kidding. I don’t even like islands. You get better, boss. I’ll take care of Andy, no worries.”

“When the cookie jar gets empty...”

“You’ll be home by then. I guarantee it. Nice of Minette to let you stay here,” he added.

“Yes. Very nice.”

“She’s such an odd bird,” Zack mused. “Never dates anybody. Her whole life is those two little kids and her job. I guess they’d make it hard to have a serious relationship,” he said. “Most men don’t want somebody else’s kids.”

“I guess not.” Hayes had already thought about that.

“Still, she’s a dish,” Zack added wistfully. “Pretty and smart and brave. Imagine, taking on a drug cartel after those guys killed a whole newspaper staff over the border a year or so ago for writing bad things about them.”

“She takes chances,” Hayes agreed.

“Unwise. But brave.”

“Very.”

* * *

Hayes spent the day watching movies. Sarah came in with a light lunch, homemade roast beef sandwiches and hot coffee. Afterward, she brought him a slice of chocolate pound cake.

“You’ll never get rid of me if you keep feeding me like this,” Hayes said as he bit into the perfect cake. “You’re a wonderful cook.”

“It’s our pleasure to help out,” Sarah said.

He finished the cake and coffee and she started to remove the dishes.

“Why did Minette offer to let me stay here?” he asked suddenly.

Sarah hesitated.

“Tell me.”

She bit her lower lip. “Well, it bothered her that nobody would stay with you at home,” she began. “And she knew you hated being in the hospital. She said...”

“She said what?” Hayes persisted.

She grinned suddenly. “Do you know the passage in the Bible about heaping coals of fire on an enemy’s head by being kind to him?”

He burst out laughing.

“Well, it’s sort of like that,” she added.

He shook his head. “At least I understand it now.”

“She never gave drugs to anybody, Hayes,” Sarah said softly. “She never even smoked marijuana when she was in high school. Her mother was a fanatic about drugs. She wouldn’t even take an aspirin tablet for a headache and she put that attitude into Minette. Never understood why,” she said on a sigh. “She was a curious woman. But I loved her dearly.”

“Did Minette’s father use drugs?” he wondered, averting his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know. I never actually met her father.” She flushed. “I mean, the man my niece, Faye, married—Minette’s stepfather—didn’t use them, ever.”

He was shocked. He hadn’t been aware that Sarah knew Minette’s stepfather wasn’t her biological father. He frowned. “Then you don’t know what her real father looked like?”

“Not really. My niece didn’t speak of him,” she said. “I wonder if he had brown eyes, though. It amazed me that my niece produced a girl with Minette’s coloring. Nobody in our whole family for generations ever had black eyes. They were always blue.”

Hayes didn’t look at her. “Genetics are odd.”

“I’ll say!” She lowered her voice. “You know, Minette’s mother married her stepfather when she was about six months pregnant. It was such a scandal!”

Hayes bit his lip. “Was it?”

“Yes! She said her new husband didn’t mind about the pregnancy, though, he loved children. They even told Minette, when she was ten, that Stan loved her very much but that he was her stepfather. I wondered if she ever really understood that. She never speaks of it, even to me.” She picked up the cup and saucer and fork, looking thoughtful. “Still, as you say, genetics are very odd. If you need anything, you use that,” she indicated the speakerphone beside the bed on the table. “And I’ll be right up.”

“Thanks, Sarah.”

She smiled. “You’re very welcome.” She hesitated at the door. “You won’t mention to Minette, that I said anything about her mother?” she worried.

“Of course I won’t,” he assured her. “Not a word.”

She nodded. “Thanks. She’s sensitive on the subject.”

He watched her go out the door with mingled emotions. So Sarah didn’t speak to Minette about her real father. Curious. They seemed close. But, then, you never knew really went on in families.

* * *

Minette showed up just after lunch with Shane and Julie, her little brother and sister, in tow. They ran into the room where Hayes was and jumped into bed with him, shoes and all. Shane was bigger than Julie, a rough and tumble eleven-year-old who loved wrestling and never missed a match that featured his favorites.

“No, kids, calm down! He’s been injured!” Minette said frantically. “And we don’t climb on beds with shoes on!”

“Sorry, Minette,” Julie said, pulling off her shoes and tossing them over the side.

“Me, too,” Shane agreed, doing the same.

They moved closer to Hayes, who was fascinated with their lack of fear. He was a stranger, mostly, whom they hardly knew.

“You’re gonna live with us,” Shane said. “You got shot, yeah?”

He chuckled. “I got shot.”

“What a mean thing to do,” Julie said solemnly. She moved right up to Hayes’s good arm and curled up next to him. “We’ll protect you, Hayes,” she said softly. “We won’t let anybody hurt you ever again.”

Hayes felt tears sting his eyes. He hid them, of course, but the child’s comment touched him as nothing had in years. His profession kept him bereft of visible emotion. He had to keep it in check, because he had to be strong. He’d seen things most people never had to look at. It affected him. Of course it did. So he buried his feelings deeper and deeper over the years, until he hardly felt anything. But he’d been shot and he was still fragile. Julie’s innocent offer to protect him made him melt inside.