Ruth Herne - The Lawman's Holiday Wish

“Have you called a locksmith? Doesn’t the janitor have a master set of keys?”

Mr. O’Mara nodded. “We’ve called in a locksmith from Clearwater, but he can’t get here for another hour. And for some reason, it appears that Mr. Gordon doesn’t possess a key to this particular door, either.”

“So you have a door in the kindergarten classroom that locks from the inside, but has no key?”

“As I said...” Miss Patterson drew herself up to her full five-foot-two-inch height, as if posturing would help the situation. “We haven’t needed one—until today.”

“That doesn’t eliminate the negligence of not having one,” Luke offered. His tone was mild, but tension rolled off him. “Right now my son is locked in a closet and we can’t get him out. With Aiden’s history...”

Rainey had no idea what Aiden’s history was, but a giggle from the closet interrupted Luke.

A second giggle joined the first.

Clearly, the two children were more at peace with the situation than the four adults gathered around the door.

“Aiden Campbell, open that door. Now.”

Silence reigned momentarily before being broken by another laugh.

Rainey nudged Luke with her elbow. When he turned, she swept his sheriff’s attire a quick glance. “He’s obviously in awe of the uniform. And your authority.”

Luke sighed and eyed the hinges before shifting his attention to the principal. “Can we pop the hinges?”

Mr. O’Mara shook his head. “They appear slightly warped, so no. We can’t.”

More whispers and giggles from inside the closet weren’t helping the situation, although Rainey was tempted to laugh right along with the two naughty kids. What did that say about her lack of parenting ability?

Miss Patterson’s anxiety was sky-high, and Mr. O’Mara had gone from frustrated to angry with himself. “It’s certainly a situation we’ll rectify now that we’ve been made aware of it. The lack of key and the bad hinges. But in the meantime...” He cast a glance to the locked closet. “We have a problem.”

“Call Dorrie in here,” Luke advised.

Rainey turned, puzzled.

Mr. O’Mara seemed surprised at the request, as well. Miss Patterson rolled her eyes. “That’s a big help.”

“It could be.” Luke’s tight tone said Miss Patterson was skating on thin ice. His grim expression said he found the teacher’s behavior unacceptable. “Dorrie’s got a knack for dealing with these two, as odd as that might seem. Shall I get her?” he asked Mr. O’Mara.

The principal turned on his walkie-talkie. “I’ll have her sent right over.”

Moments later, Dorrie skipped into the room, one pigtail dangled low, half undone. The other still hung neatly in place with a perky purple ribbon. She looked happy, spunky and delightfully normal. “Mommy! Luke! What are you doing here?”

Luke cut straight to the chase. “Sonya and Aiden have locked themselves in this closet. Can you get them to come out, please?”

“Well, yeah. Sure.” She bounced across the room, tapped on the door twice, paused, then tapped twice again.

“Dorrie!”

“Dorrie, you’re here!”

Two little voices chimed her name in unison.

Luke met the principal’s curious glance. “That’s the secret knock they use in their tree house at my place.”

“Ah.”

“Why are you guys in the closet?” Dorrie asked.

Not one of the adults had asked the kids why they’d locked themselves in there.

“Sonya was sad,” Aiden explained.

Oh... Rainey’s heart melted a little, thinking of how kind Luke’s son must be.

“So she hid in the closet?” Dorrie’s tone said that was kind of a dumb thing to do.

“No.” Sonya’s voice this time. “I went to a thinking place, like we do at Luke’s. In the tree house. And Aiden said he wanted to think, too.”

“Well, are you done?” Dorrie’s voice hovered near impatience. “Because I’ve got things to do and if you’re done thinking, then get out of there. Okay?”

“All right.”

“Okay.”

The adults waited, almost not breathing, watching for the handle to turn. Listening for the lock to disengage.

Click.

The tiny sound had them all breathing a sigh of relief. The door handle turned, paused, then turned again, and when the door swung outward, two little hands were clutching the knob.

“We did it!”

“Yeah, we did!” Aiden and Sonya high-fived each other, but their joyous expressions faded when they spotted the crowd of adults just outside the door.

Luke scooped up Aiden.

Rainey did the same to Sonya.

Dorrie arched a brow at both children. “Guys, you can’t do that in kindergarten.” She flounced her one tight ponytail for effect. “You have to stay in your chair and think.”

Sonya rolled her eyes, amazed. “No one can do that.”

Aiden sent Dorrie a similar look, then buried his head in Luke’s shoulder.

“Let’s walk down to my office, shall we?” Mr. O’Mara’s request held a mixture of relief and consternation. “Miss Patterson, we’ll let you return to the rest of your class.”

Luke didn’t seem relieved to have his kid out of a scrape as much as furious that this had happened in the first place.

Was there something wrong with Rainey that she wasn’t so upset? She was amused, yes. Angry? Not so much.

But she and Miss Sonya would have a heart-to-heart talk about locking doors, once they got home.

Mr. O’Mara pointed to the bench outside his office. “If the kids would like to sit here while we talk, that would be fine.”

“Fine?” Luke sputtered the word and held his son tighter. “Mr. O’Mara, nothing about this whole situation could be called fine. You put my kid at risk. You put Sonya at risk. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that you put an entire kindergarten class at risk by not having a key to that art closet.”

“Maybe not the whole kindergarten,” Rainey murmured. When Luke stared at her, she shrugged. “It’s only big enough to hold two or three kids at a time, tops.”

“This isn’t funny.” The clipped note in his voice underscored his emotion.

Rainey reached up to touch Aiden’s cheek, then ruffled Sonya’s hair. “It is, kind of. I think it shows great resourcefulness that these two took a calming technique you taught them and put it to good use. But next time, don’t lock the door.” She made eye contact with both kids, one at a time. “Locked doors are dangerous if we don’t have a key.”

“Exactly.” Luke’s glare said she’d finally made a good point.

“So we’ll get a key for that door, but only grown-ups will use it. And if you need thinking time away from the other kids, what should you do?”

Sonya shrugged.

Aiden glared at her, much like his father was doing.

“Tell a grown-up,” Rainey instructed. “Grown-ups are on your side. I promise.” She settled a look of honest, trusting patience on each child in turn, praying the sincerity of her words would reach them. From what she could see, she was successful, and she wasn’t afraid to thank God for that.

If only there was a similar way to comfort the distraught father standing opposite her. The deep contours of his face said calming him down wasn’t going to be quite as easy.

* * *

Luke felt Aiden’s body relaxing in his arms.

Mr. O’Mara looked more comfortable, too, as if he was buying Rainey McKinney’s spiel.

Buying it? Of course he’s buying it. She made perfect sense, while you were about to jump off the deep end, trying to make Aiden’s life “Secret Service safe.” Let the kid fly a little.

His mother had scolded him about that not long ago, and Luke didn’t talk to her for nearly a week, but finally had to give in. First, because she was right. Second, because he couldn’t go seven days without her chicken biscuit pie.