“I know. You never heard from her again, did you?”

Maxie shook her head. “I would’ve told you. I’ve always told you everything.”

“Many family stories,” he said, very seriously.

They were both silent for a moment. Finally Maxie said, “You aren’t mad in love with Miss Picky Pants?”

He shook his head.

“Then stop kissing her!” Maxie demanded.

Tom grinned. “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

“You think I raised a decorated marine and made money on apples by missing things?”

Chapter Thirteen

It wasn’t unusual for busy married couples who had both children and careers that took more than the usual forty hours per week to do more communicating through phone calls, emails and during short breaks in the workday than at other times. So it was with Jack Sheridan and his wife, Mel. What was unusual was for Preacher to call Mel and ask her to drop in to the bar when things were quiet to have a chat with her husband.

“What’s the matter?” she asked when she got there.

“Nothing,” Jack answered. “Why?”

“Because Preacher asked me to come over if I wasn’t busy. He said you needed counseling.”

Jack grumbled and poured himself a cup of coffee. “He’s getting worse than an old woman.”

Mel stared him down for a minute, then she went to the door to the kitchen, pushed it open and said, “Preach, help me out here. I have a patient in a half hour and Jack doesn’t want to talk right now.” Then she went back to her stool.

Momentarily Preacher was standing beside Jack. “So,” the cook said. “You haven’t told her what’s wrong?”

“I don’t have anything to say!” he said with attitude.

Preacher faced Mel, and about that time Paige came into the bar, standing beside her husband. “About a week ago Luke brought a friend in for a beer. Old friend of Luke’s from Army days—an old Black Hawk pilot. Well, it turns out Jack and Coop, the friend, knew each other way back when. Some woman accused Coop of beating her up, Jack called the MP’s and Coop was locked up. But it turned out to be some kind of misunderstanding, Coop got out, Jack shipped out, the woman disappeared long ago and now what we have, with holidays and town parties coming up, is a little bad blood between the Riordans and Jack. A Riordan-Sheridan standoff over something that happened a long time ago with a lot of mixed-up details and facts.”

Mel was stunned silent for a moment. Her mouth hung open, her blue eyes were wide. Finally she said, “Huh?”

Preacher took a deep breath. Then he began again. “About a week ago…”

Paige put a hand on her husband’s forearm. She shook her head. “Not from the beginning, John,” she said. Paige looked at her friend. “Mel, about fifteen years ago a marine and a soldier were both at the same place at the same time. Your marine was friendly with a waitress who confided she had a bad relationship. Abusive, she said. You know Jack—he offered to help if needed. He gave her a phone number and a couple of days later, she called that number and left Jack a message that she needed help.”

“And I went,” Jack said. “She was banged up pretty bad and crying. I tried to take her to the hospital, but she wouldn’t go. So I called the police and stayed with her until they came.”

Mel looked at him. “What did she want, Jack?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Moral support, I guess. I suggested she get herself away from whoever would do that to her and she said she’d go anywhere I’d take her, just to get her out of there. But I couldn’t do any more—I was scheduled out on a military transport with a squad of marines. And our destination was privileged. So she told the MP’s who beat her up and then, wouldn’t you know, he stumbled in, half drunk, knuckles bruised, denying he’d ever touched her…”

“And Jack,” Mel asked. “Who told the military police that he was the one? Was it you? Did you say, that’s him?”

“He could hardly stand up! He’d been passed out and looked guilty as all hell.”

Preacher made a sound. “Fortunately that sort of thing never happened to you.”

“That’s how I got to read his tattoos,” Mel said. “Remember that, Preach? He was completely toasted, face down on the floor and I sat up with him all night.”

“All right, all right,” Jack said. “Did I need an alibi? Did I have bruised knuckles?”

Mel shook her head. “My Jack,” she said. “A hundred women have loved him, wanted him, been willing to lie or kill to get him… .”

“Come on,” he said impatiently. “She just needed some help!”

“Possibly,” Mel said. “Okay, probably,” she amended. “It does sound like there might be more to it, like maybe why the waitress couldn’t get charges against the soldier to stick, or maybe he had an alibi besides being crocked or something. If they arrested him but let him out and he stayed in the Army, there’s a piece of the puzzle missing. Don’t you want to know what that piece is? On the highly improbable chance you could be wrong?”

“I heard sarcasm there,” Jack said.

“Sorry,” Mel said. “We have a little problem in the marriage,” she said to Paige. “Two people with an overwhelming need to be right.”

“I did nothing wrong,” Jack insisted. “When a woman is battered and names her assailant, you call the cops.”

“It’s not about right or wrong, Jack—you did nothing wrong. It’s about the details. Don’t be so stubborn.”

“That’s just you,” Jack accused his wife. “I’m flexible.”

“Right,” Preacher said. “I’ve seen a lot of that, just not lately.”

“Look, he doesn’t want to explain the circumstances to me any more than I want to hear them from him,” Jack said in a sulk.

“Ducky,” Mel said. “Listen, Jack, it probably doesn’t matter whether you and this soldier kiss and make up. He’s just a visitor. But you should work things out with Luke because he’s permanent. And he’s a good friend of yours.”

“I haven’t heard from him in a week,” Jack said. “I didn’t do this, you know. What would you do if you had a patient, beat up? Would you tell her not to make so much noise with all that crying?”

“Try not to be such a jackass,” Paige said. He shot her a surprised look. He was at once shocked and not; Paige had been in a very scary, abusive relationship before she met John. But Paige wouldn’t say shit if she had a mouthful. “Just saying,” Paige added.

“I suggest you get his story and see if you can check it out for accuracy,” Mel said. “Really, I tend to lean the other way—the man is always lying.”

“And always guilty,” Jack muttered. When he saw his wife’s slow smile he actually flushed.

“Since I’ve been in this town, I’ve come up against a couple of situations with really naughty women who faked being abused by men who were the gentlest angels alive. Remember that ex-wife of Aiden Riordan’s? Pretending he beat her up when he was actually with Erin in San Francisco for days? Lord help us all! So if you won’t talk to the guy, why don’t you ask Luke for some details? Preacher here will be happy to do a background check for you, see if the guy has any kind of record. And there’s always Walt Booth if you need some Army brass on your side to find out what really happened back then.”

“I guess it’s possible,” Jack muttered.

“We need to bury this,” Preacher said. “I know Luke. If this friend of his turned out to be guilty of felony assault, he’d want to know. He’d want to be done with him. And we owe it to Luke.”

“I think my work here is done,” Mel said, standing up. “I wondered what was eating you,” she said to her husband. “Call Luke right away—this thing has been festering long enough. I thought we were going to need counseling or something.”

“You didn’t see what I saw,” Jack said.

“But I have, sweetheart,” Mel reminded him. “I know, I know—it’s never as simple as it looks. You don’t know the guy but you know Luke. You should talk to him about this, then see if you can figure it out.” And she leaned toward him for a kiss. Then she patted his cheek and smiled. “No wonder women fall at your feet. You’re such a soft touch.”

“I heard sarcasm there.”

She just laughed. “I have a patient pretty soon. See you for dinner.”

* * *

Things were opening up for Nora Crane in ways she had not dared hope for or imagine. First of all, she hadn’t expected to ever get to know her father and here she was, spending at least one afternoon every week with him. On almost every visit, Susan came along. And every time they appeared, more items for Nora’s home and children arrived with them. Jed pulled a port-a-crib and fancy stroller out of his trunk and she had to fight tears of gratitude. Fay wouldn’t have to sleep on the mattress with her mother and sister anymore. But that was nothing to the Sunday they were scheduled to have a picnic but were rained out; Jed and Susan arrived pulling a trailer.

“It looks like our picnic will be another day, but I think we’ll have fun anyway,” he said.

“What on earth…?”

“That old couch of yours, Nora—it just has to go! Your table and two chairs aren’t in much better shape.”

And in that rented trailer were a sofa, a chair, a side table, a lamp, small kitchen table and four chairs.

“No, you didn’t,” she said in a whisper. “Jed, you have to stop this or I’ll be taking care of you in your impoverished old age!”

“I can’t stop—not until I see you and the little girls comfortable. I don’t mean with extravagance—this stuff was on sale and wasn’t expensive as furniture goes. I just want to help you get on your feet.”

“But I can never repay you for this!”

“All I ever wanted was to have you in my life again,” he said. “I never counted on the bonus of granddaughters.”

When the furniture was brought into the house, Berry was absolutely thrilled. She climbed right up on it, her little eyes so round and happy. Fay immediately pulled herself up, too, and patted it.

Rain or not, nothing got past her neighbors. Martha and Adie were outside, checking out the delivery and from down the street Leslie and Conner arrived—Conner wanted to help Jed get the new furniture in and the old furniture out. The ratty old couch went in the U-Haul. “I’ll drop this off at the dump unless you have other plans for it,” Jed said.

“Nothing is thrown away around here without permission from Reverend Kincaid,” Nora said. “In fact, in a couple of months I will have been here a year and without the charity of my friends and neighbors, I don’t know if we’d have survived the winter.”

It was hard to imagine anyone being more needy than Nora had been but sure enough, Noah wanted that couch. “I think I know just the place for it,” he told her over the phone. Conner and Jed carried it through the drizzle for a block to the church where it would sit until it could be delivered further.

Her children were outfitted for the cold weather, there was new bedding, warm blankets and good food in the house. Just when Nora thought she couldn’t possibly wish for more, Maxie asked her, “Nora, do you bake?”

“Welllll,” she said doubtfully. “When I was a girl I made cookies, but it’s been a long time.”

“Do you think you’d like to?”

“If I had the time, I would,” she said. “I can follow directions, I think. But Maxie, I don’t have much cookware on hand.”