Pat Warren - The Lawman And The Lady

Despite a case of nerves, Tate found herself interested. “Ethnic as in Italian? Bennett doesn’t sound Italian.”

“My father was born Anthony Bennedetto, but somewhere along the line, the name got changed to Bennett. Both my parents are first-generation Americans. But we had other nationalities around us—German, Hungarian, Russian. And more recently, Mexican. It was a great place to raise children. My mother used to say that if a kid fell down on Palmetto Drive, three mothers rushed out before he had a chance to get up.” He smiled at her and noticed that at least she was looking at him and not the passing scenery.

“That must have been nice. I always wanted that for Josh, but…well, our plans don’t always work out.” Tate looked down at her hands, noticing they were in a near-death grip, and forced her fingers to relax.

His casual chatter was loosening her, so Nick hurried on. “No, they sure don’t. My dad wanted me to work in construction like him and my brothers, but doing the same thing over and over day after day bored me. When I got accepted at the Police Academy, I think my mother spent all her free time on her knees saying the rosary that I’d flunk out. She hates that I’m a cop, even now.”

“As a mother, I can understand that. It’s a dangerous job.” His gun was hidden by his jacket now, but she was acutely aware of its presence and what it represented.

“I suppose. But Tony broke both shoulders once falling off a roof he was prepping. Took him six months to recover. Sam got cut by a piece of rusty tin and ignored it until it got infected. He nearly wound up with blood poisoning. On any given day, any one of us can get run over by a bus, too. Danger is relative.”

“You’re talking accidents, which can happen to anyone. But your brothers aren’t dealing with criminals who have guns and other weapons and might somehow wind up cornered and decide to use them on a cop. You go looking for trouble every day.” And she wondered how he stood it. She’d had a small taste of danger and hated it.

“Not really, but trouble seems to find me anyhow.” Nick pulled into a crowded parking lot adjacent to a stucco building painted bright green and sporting a big red-and-white neon sign that flashed on and off, reading Giovanni’s. Strings of blinking red, white and green lights outlined the roof, the door and windows. Outside the main door was a huge fountain with cement cherubs pouring recirculated water. He saw that both of them were staring openmouthed. He was used to the place, as most everyone in the neighborhood was, but he knew it looked garish to a newcomer.

“The Italian flag colors, you know—red, white and green. It’s not as gaudy inside, the pasta’s to die for and the pizza can’t be beat.” Turning off the engine, he got out from behind the wheel and was about to go around to assist them, but Tate was already out and helping Josh unbuckle his seat belt. Okay, so chivalry was out.

Nick waited until they joined him before leading the way through the heavy wood door. Inside, he paused to let his guests absorb the atmosphere.

Dean Martin was crooning That’s Amore through the piped-in music system, adults and kids alike were chattering and several waiters wrapped in big white aprons were serving large trays of food and pitchers of cold drinks. A table of four joined Dean, singing loudly and off-key. They competed with a round table consisting of six kids and two adults who were singing birthday greetings to a boy of about eight.

“It’s never boring in here,” Nick said, leaning close to Tate in order to be heard. He caught the very feminine scent of her hair and quickly straightened.

A big man with wavy black hair and a full mustache spotted them and came rushing over. “Nickie, how you been?” He grasped Nick into a huge bear hug.

“Fine, Johnny.” Nick urged her forward with a hand to the small of her back. “I’d like you to meet Tate Monroe and her son, Josh.”

“Glad you’re here,” Johnny said, his dark eyes smiling. “Any friend of Nickie’s is a friend of mine.” He turned, looking around, then swung back. “Two minutes and I’ll have a booth for you, okay?”

“That’d be great.” Nick kept his hand at her back, wondering if she’d leave it there after Johnny walked away.

In a smooth move, Tate shifted fractionally and slipped her arm around Josh’s shoulders, aligning the two of them slightly apart from Nick. “What do you think, Josh?” she asked the boy.

“It smells good in here,” he answered shyly.

“And it tastes just as good,” Nick told them as he caught Johnny’s wave and led them to a booth where the table was draped with a red-and-white checkered cloth topped with bright green plastic place mats. He thanked his friend and accepted two huge menus, passing one to Tate who let Josh slide in, then followed him. Nick sat down opposite them.

“You can tell me what kind of pizza you like or I can let Johnny build us a special one,” he told Tate. “Your choice.”

Feeling a bit weary suddenly, Tate was glad to let him take over. “Why don’t you order for us?”

“No green peppers, though, okay?” Josh added.

“I’ll take the green peppers off yours, honey,” Tate told him.

Nick signaled Johnny over. “Not to worry. Hey, Big John, we want one of your specials, an extra large, hold the green peppers. And to drink?” He looked inquiringly at Tate. “Root beer or…” He saw them both nod. “A large pitcher of root beer.”

“Sure thing, my man. Be right back.” An Italian opera was now playing and Johnny took up the aria with the tenor, singing loud and boisterously as he made his way to the kitchen.

“He’s a bit of a character, but he has a heart of gold.” Nick studied the boy who was watching the kids at the next table with the birthday celebration. There was such longing in those green eyes that were so much like his mother’s. “Parties like that are great, aren’t they?” he asked Josh.

The boy didn’t answer, just kept staring. “When’s your birthday, Josh?”

“In March,” he answered, his eyes on the boy wearing the cone-shaped hat proclaiming him the birthday boy. They’d finished eating and the table was piled high with gifts. Wearing a gap-toothed grin, the boy began ripping open the nearest package while the others cheered him on.

Nick remembered that Tate had said they’d moved around a lot. That probably meant that Josh had few friends, too shy to make new ones in each new place that he’d soon have to leave. But why had they moved around so much? He shifted his gaze to Tate who was toying with her spoon thoughtfully.

“Maybe next March, we can arrange a party for you and your friends here,” Nick offered, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Don’t,” Tate said, her husky voice low but firm. “Please don’t make promises that you might not be able to keep. False hope is a terrible thing to live with.” She’d blurted it out before she thought how she’d sound, but this man they’d only just met had to know that she didn’t want Josh counting on things that may never happen. And who knew where they’d be by next March.

Nick saw that Josh was still occupied in watching the kids, pretending he hadn’t heard. “I didn’t mean any harm,” he said to Tate.

“I’m sure you didn’t.” She raised a hand to smooth back a curling lock of hair that was trying to escape the ponytail and sighed wearily. “People often make those kinds of statements and have no intention of following through. I’m not saying you’re like that, but…”

“I’m not like that, Tate. I realize you don’t know me, but I follow through.”

The arrival of a short, dark-haired young woman carrying a huge pizza and a frosty pitcher cut short their conversation. “Nickie!” she said, greeting him. Quickly she put everything on the table, then leaned over to hug him. “Long time, no see.”