Felicia Mason - Sweet Devotion

After finishing their clucking, Amber and Sutton turned back to the storybook. Amber read a page of the barnyard tale. Sutton, lifting the book high so everyone could see the pictures, spotted him.

“Daddy!”

Amber looked up.

Paul knew the exact moment when Sutton’s greeting registered with Amber and she recognized him.

Her eyes shuttered and the light so evident a moment ago disappeared. She swallowed, and he watched as a shudder seemed to move through her. She held his gaze—almost defiantly, Paul decided—then deliberately turned her attention back to the children and the book.

“Hi there, sweetheart,” he said to Sutton.

“I’m the helper today.”

“Is that a fact?”

Sutton smiled and nodded, her pigtails bobbing. Paul’s heart wrenched. It had been so long since he’d seen her animated—or talkative. And the woman who’d made it so was the very one who even now surreptitiously inched away from the girl. But was it really away from Sutton, or was it away from him? Paul was afraid he knew the answer.

Some people just didn’t like cops. He needed to apologize to her again, and today was his opportunity. After she passed out the cookies, he’d have a word with her. But Paul watched her withdrawal and wondered what she was hiding—and why he took her rebuff personally.

“Cookie Lady, are you going to finish the story?”

Amber jerked as if she’d been pinched. “I… I… Yes.”

She reached for the book Sutton held and tried to see beyond the police chief, who suddenly stood much closer than she liked. She stuck her head in the book, anxious to finish the tale so she could escape. But her skin grew clammy and she lost her grip on the book.

Sutton caught it and glanced at her. “We still have three more pages, Cookie Lady.”

Amber gave the girl what she hoped was a smile, then quickly read the remaining pages of the book. She closed it and hopped up while the children applauded. Rubbing her hands against her apron she asked, “Who’d like a cookie now?”

Every child’s hand shot straight up. Amber lifted the napkin from the basket and carefully handed the cookie basket to Sutton. “Do you know what to do?”

Sutton nodded. “Everybody gets one cookie. At the end, I get two.”

“That’s right,” Amber said. Taking the little girl’s hand in her own, Amber led her to the front row of children eagerly awaiting the treat. Then she excused herself.

“Amber?”

“Miss Montgomery?”

Amber ignored both Marnie and the police chief. She headed straight to the rest room, a place to which she knew he wouldn’t follow her.

She closed herself behind a stall and leaned her head against the door.

Breathe, she coached herself. Breathe.

Her pulse pounded. She felt as if she’d been dumped into the middle of a marathon.

She tried to convince herself that she was in no physical danger from him, that she’d simply overreacted. But she couldn’t get her heartbeat to slow down, or her fear to subside.

A knock on the stall door made her jump. “Who is it?”

“Amber, are you okay?” Marnie asked through the door. “What happened?”

“I’m…fine,” she said, a hitch in her voice.

“You don’t sound fine,” Marnie persisted. “And you looked like you were about to faint out there. Would you like some water?”

“No, thank you.”

For several minutes, the only sound in the rest room was Amber’s breathing. Amber’s feet hadn’t moved from the edge of the door where she stood.

“Amber, are you okay? Come out. Please.”

“I will.” But she made no move to unlatch the door.

Marnie knocked again. “Amber?”

Amber closed her eyes and tried to remember everything she’d been taught, tried to recall some of the deep-breathing exercises she’d learned.

“Amber, you’re scaring me.”

She forced herself to face her fear, and slid the lock free.

Marnie reached for her hands and clasped them in her own. “You’re freezing.”

Amber tried to tug her hands free. “I’m fine. Really. I just…” She shrugged, unable to finish the explanation, sure that Marnie with her perfect life and perfect job wouldn’t be able to understand her problem, let alone identify with it.

Marnie pulled Amber toward the sink. She ran cool water and made a compress from paper towels that she then pressed on Amber’s forehead. Then she ran warm water and plunged Amber’s hands under the steady stream. She rubbed Amber’s hands, getting the blood circulating again.

“Does that feel better?”

Amber nodded, and Marnie handed her a paper towel to dry her hands.

“You want to tell me what’s going on? You ran out of there like something was on fire.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Amber said automatically.

If she kept telling herself that, maybe she’d eventually believe it.

For a moment, it seemed as if Marnie would let it go….

“I want you to know I care about you, Amber. You do good work here with the kids. I’d hate to lose you.”

“What makes you think I’m going somewhere?”

Marnie stilled her hands and stared at Amber. “I see it in your eyes. You look scared and ready to bolt.” Then their gazes connected in the mirror above the sink. “What can I do to help you?”

Amber shook her head. “Nothing.”

“I think I know what’s wrong.”

“I doubt it,” Amber said.

“Yes, Amber. You see, it takes one to know one.”

“Is the Cookie Lady coming back?”

Paul glanced at one of the aides who’d stepped in after both Amber and Marnie Shepherd disappeared.

“I’m sure she will,” he told the child.

“Hey, Chief Evans, can I take a ride in your police car?”

“Maybe next time, Max.” He bit back a smile at the boy’s excited grin.

“Tomorrow?”

“Maybe not that soon.”

“Okay,” the boy said, confident that the promise extracted from the police chief would eventually be fulfilled.

Sutton finished passing out the cookies and brought the basket to the front of the Story Corner. She placed her two cookies on a paper napkin, then carefully folded the two cloth napkins, bringing as much care to the job as Amber would have, as she placed them inside the basket. She then put the basket on the table next to Amber’s rocker.

“I was the helper today, Daddy.”

Paul squatted down and gave her a hug. “And it looks to me like you did a terrific job.”

“I get two cookies.” She offered him one. “Would you like this one?”

Paul took a bite and munched on it, savoring every bite.

Wow. No wonder Caleb was so opposed to sharing. He glanced in the direction of the rest rooms.

His radio squawked. Paul pressed the speaker button at his shoulder unit. “Go ahead.”

“Chief, we’ve got a domestic in progress on Patterson in East Wayside.”

“On the way,” Paul answered.

“Daddy, what’s a domestic?”

“Domestic disturbance. Right, Chief?” Max piped up. “Somebody’s hitting somebody.”

Had it been any other kid, Paul would have been disturbed at the child’s knowledge. But Max Young came from a long line of law enforcement officers. “Right, Max.”

With a final glance toward the place Amber had skittered off to, Paul said farewell to the children and to the aide. He hugged Sutton and placed a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “I’ll see you guys soon, okay?”

Jonathan, who didn’t care for public displays of affection, edged closer to Paul. “You’ll catch ’em, right?”

“Catch who?”

Jonathan motioned for Paul to get closer. He leaned down and watched the boy look to his right and left. “The domestic disturbance. You’ll get the bad man, won’t you?”