Ruth Herne - The Lawman's Holiday Wish

“Mommy, see?” Dorrie peered over the railing and waved to them. “Isn’t this the best tree house ever?”

“Amazing.” She drew the word out to underscore her approval, which shone in her face. Her eyes. The autumn sun silhouetted her profile, and Luke thought he’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Mommy! Come see!” Sonya joined Dorrie at the tiny “porch” of the tree house. “You’ll love it up here!”

“Here I come.” She scrambled up the short ladder and faked a gasp. “Is that your kitchen?”

Aiden laughed out loud, a sound Luke didn’t hear often enough. “Yes. Daddy made it.”

She looked down at Luke, and he had to act fast to pretend he wasn’t appreciating the sight of her in her jeans. He wasn’t quite speedy enough, however, and the look she sent him—half scolding, half amused—said she didn’t really mind his admiration. She ignored the moment and indicated the interior of the tree house. “How’d you get that little kitchen set in there?”

“Classified information, ma’am.”

She studied him, then the tree house while the children giggled, buzzing like happy little bees at a hive. “You built it around the kitchen set?”

“Nope.”

She frowned, tapping her chin with one tawny-skinned finger, while the kids waited for her next guess. “The shoemaker’s elves put it together at night?”

“I only wish that was true.”

Sonya clapped a hand over her mouth, as if eager to spill the beans. Dorrie pretended to be calm. Aiden jumped up and down in tiny hops, excited to see what came next, and that made Luke’s smile widen. His son didn’t take to folks quickly, and that was partially Luke’s fault for sheltering him.

“Aha.” She aimed a triumphant look at the little ones, then him. “You took it in there piece by piece and assembled it inside.”

“Yes!” Aiden pumped his fist in the air. “How did you guess that?”

“Isn’t it wonderful, Mommy?”

“Don’t you just love it?”

She laughed, handed out kisses to the excited children, then climbed back down. Luke offered his hand when she was on the last rung of the ladder, and she hopped off, her eyes shining up at him and the three kids. “I’d have picnics in there all the time if I had a tree house like this.”

“Can we have one today, Luke?”

“Please?”

“Please, Daddy?”

Luke made a show of eyeing his watch. “It’s past lunch and not nearly suppertime.”

“Perfect for high tea, then,” Rainey announced.

“High what?” Luke made a face at her, and the kids giggled above.

“Also known as snack time. But for the royals among us—” Rainey did a deep bow, with a hand flourish in the direction of the children “—it’s referred to as high tea. Have you such makings in your house, old chap?”

Luke rolled his eyes and the kids giggled harder. “Let us go hence into the house and see, m’lady.”

“Young royals, we shall return with haste to grace your table with the finest of foods and drink.” She bowed again and headed toward the house with Luke. “Aren’t you worried they might fall while we’re gone?” she whispered.

“I worry about everything,” he confessed, and the simple admission made him worry less. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Not when it all lands on your shoulders,” she told him as he swung open the wooden screen door. “Oh, Luke. This house.” She paused on the steps and drank in the pretty porch. “This is utterly beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“What a marvelous place to grow up.” She looked out to the barns, the sheds, the well-treed lot and the gravel drive. “It’s the picture of country living. And you must have a ball decorating this porch for Christmas with garlands and twinkle lights. Have you owned it a long time?”

Garlands? Twinkle lights? Guilt found new lodging in his chest as he thought of the artificial tree he stuck in the living room corner every year, using two strings of lights and two dozen satin balls from Walmart. “Nearly three years.”

“Well, it’s meant to inspire roots.”

“Now if I could only figure out the whole ‘wings’ part of the equation that every child psychologist talks about,” he remarked as he led her into the kitchen. “Encouraging Aiden to take a chance is the tough part for me.”

“He’s five, he’s cute and he’s getting spunkier. He just needs to spread those wings on his own a little. Take a few falls.” She nodded toward the tree house, visible through the wide picture window above the sink. “And I can see I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know,” she added, “so let me just say this kitchen is absolutely lovely. And clean. Which is kind of scary, for a single dad.”

“He has help,” a woman’s voice interjected.

Rainey turned, surprised. So did Luke.

“Hillary. I wasn’t expecting you to stop by.” Luke offered his former sister-in-law a puzzled look.

“Sorry, I came through the back door to grab my file bag from yesterday.” The woman lifted a black canvas tote in her left hand. “I wanted to copy some notes into my laptop and realized they were still here. Oops.”

* * *

It didn’t take a college degree to read the other woman’s ruse, which meant maybe Rainey shouldn’t be here. But Luke seemed to think nothing of the explanation. Of course, he was a man and more than likely oblivious.

“I’m Hillary Baxter, Luke’s sister-in-law. I help him with Aiden.” Cool and crisp, Hillary nodded toward the tree house outside the back door. “You’re the twins’ mother.”

“Rainey McKinney. Nice to meet you.”

Hillary offered a thin smile. “Yes, well. I have to go. Duty calls.”

Luke set down a box of crackers he’d pulled from the cupboard and nodded. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“I’ll be here.”

Her tone hinted she belonged here, Rainey didn’t. Hillary exited through the back door and made a show of climbing the ladder, clutching Aiden in a huge hug, reminding him twice to stay away from the opening, and then hugging him again, whispering something.

Rainey fought the urge to choke. The other woman was pretty and accomplished. Her style and grace shone like well-rinsed fresh pearls. Perfect hair, great shoes, tailored pants and a silk shirt.

Who wore silk to visit a kid?

Luke handed over a jar of peanut butter. “Can you spread this on those crackers? And I have some little fancy cupcakes from the store. I think they’d be high-tea stuff, right?”

“Perfect.”

“We don’t have to make tea, do we?”

“Not this time,” she told him. “Juice boxes will do the trick. And please note that the children are playing nicely, they’ve scrambled up and down that ladder at least a dozen times to gather treasures from under the trees, and no one has fallen.”

“Yet.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” she chided him. She gave him a tiny elbow thrust to drive home her words. “Our instincts for survival tell us to hang on. To watch our step.”

“Preach that to me after your first trip to the E.R. on a busy Saturday.”

She nodded. “Good point. I might be singing a different tune then. Okay, peanut butter crackers, tiny cupcakes with sprinkles, and juice boxes. Our high tea is ready.”

* * *

She’d fussed about, putting everything on a foil-covered cookie sheet because he didn’t own a fancy tray. He thought the whole thing silly until he saw the kids’ eyes go wide as Rainey and he approached.

“This is so fancy!”

“Oh, I love it, Mommy!”

“Daddy, this is a great party!”

Luke’s heart swelled as he climbed the ladder. Rainey lifted the tray up to him, and as it changed hands, their gazes met again.