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The Lawman's Holiday Wish
Ruth Logan Herne


No one in Kirkwood Lake seems willing to forget, or forgive, Rainey McKinney’s troubled past. But Rainey can’t afford to let that bother her.Her top priority is rebuilding her life and being a good mom to her twin daughters. Even handsome deputy sheriff Luke Campbell can’t distract her, tempting as he is. She’s determined to keep her distance, but as his son and her girls form a special bond, Rainey and Luke can’t help but do the same. Can Rainey put her past behind her once and for all and embrace a future full of hope—and love?







Second-Chance Christmas

No one in Kirkwood Lake seems willing to forget, or forgive, Rainey McKinney’s troubled past. But Rainey can’t afford to let that bother her. Her top priority is rebuilding her life and being a good mom to her twin daughters. Even handsome deputy sheriff Luke Campbell can’t distract her, tempting as he is. She’s determined to keep her distance, but as his son and her girls form a special bond, Rainey and Luke can’t help but do the same. Can Rainey put her past behind her once and for all and embrace a future full of hope—and love?

Kirkwood Lake: A town full of heart and hope.


As Rainey handed the tray

up to him, their gazes met again.

Sheer beauty.

And it wasn’t because of her lovely face, her gold-toned skin or the soft tumble of hair.

It was her spirit, shining through the smile she gave him.

His chest tightened, as it did the week before, when he’d first laid eyes on her. But inside, his heart melted.

Think, man. She’s got a troubled history.

He knew that. Rainey’s teenage years had been nothing but trouble, but in all his years on the force, he’d seen a lot of kids change their lives. Why not her? Why not now?

Was he willing to risk his son’s well-being? He was a grown man. Aidan was a kid who’d already drawn the short straw on mothers once. Leave it alone.

Luke had to. He knew it.

But ignoring this attraction to Rainey was the last thing he wanted to do.


RUTH LOGAN HERNE

Born into poverty, Ruth puts great stock in one of her favorite Ben Franklinisms: “Having been poor is no shame. Being ashamed of it is.” With God-given appreciation for the amazing opportunities abounding in our land, Ruth finds simple gifts in the everyday blessings of smudge-faced small children, bright flowers, freshly baked goods, good friends, family, puppies and higher education. She believes a good woman should never fear dirt, snakes or spiders, all of which like to infest her aged farmhouse, necessitating a good pair of tongs for extracting the snakes, a flat-bottomed shoe for the spiders, and for the dirt…

Simply put, she’s learned that some things aren’t worth fretting about! If you laugh in the face of dust and love to talk about God, men, romance, great shoes and wonderful food, feel free to contact Ruth through her website at www.ruthloganherne.com (http://www.ruthloganherne.com).


The Lawman’s Holiday Wish

Ruth Logan Herne






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


He that is without sin among you,

let him cast the first stone.

—John 8:7


To my wonderful son Luke, a young man

whose strength, grace, humor and brilliance

has been a beacon to his parents. Luke,

we’re so very proud of you! Merry Christmas!


Acknowledgments

Huge thanks to my dear husband, Dave, for road-tripping with me to Chautauqua Lake and Jamestown, New York, the inspirational settings for the fictional “Kirkwood Lake.” To Mandy and Beth for doing the same thing, and the laughter and fun we have on each trip. To the Pittsford Dairy, my model for a glass bottle dairy and bakery. To the migrant workers I’ve met over the years—men and women whose work ethic abounds under tough conditions. God bless you! To Nancy Turner and the crew at www.thisoldhorse.org in Hastings, Minnesota, for her wonderful advice on how to handle “Spirit’s” role in this story. Nancy, you are an amazing woman with a great “spirit” of your own. Thank you so much for your help! It was invaluable. To Virginia Carmichael for her advice on Tres Leches cake! And a huge round of thanks to my daycare moms, whose encouragement and trust humbles me. I love youse guys.


Contents

Chapter One (#u1dec2142-4e79-5a68-9ce7-0f9a9b2ab3c3)

Chapter Two (#ud9fd0503-4999-591f-9e6a-662c948da751)

Chapter Three (#u115d6dbf-bd38-511a-96d6-c327baad8660)

Chapter Four (#u3f3e0310-0b32-59db-87d3-a7a423c04054)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Recipe (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

Deputy Sheriff Luke Campbell aimed his cruiser for the Kirkwood Lake Elementary School with measured reluctance. A mandatory meeting with his five-year-old son’s principal and teacher didn’t bode well for him or the boy. It didn’t take an early-education degree to tell Luke what he already knew. Aiden was quiet, withdrawn, uncertain, timid and refused to join activities.

Luke had hoped being in school would help, but this was the second phone call in three weeks regarding Aiden’s issues. How much was real and how much exaggerated by a smart kid who knew how to evoke adult sympathy to the max?

Luke didn’t have a clue.

Did he tend to make excuses for the boy?

Yes.

Did he have good reason?

Yes again, but unless he wanted to be a failure as a parent, he had to find a way to bring Aiden around. The sooner the better.

He’s five. Give him time.

Luke shoved the thought aside. He’d been telling himself that for nearly three years, since Aiden lost his mother. School was important, and getting along with other kids was invaluable, all the books said so. They called it “socialization.”

Luke was the third of seven Campbells, three of whom were adopted. In the Campbell house, you either socialized quickly or got taught a lesson by your big brothers.

Luke’s sweet mother had been praying for Aiden’s situation to improve.

Luke used to pray. Back before he realized the improbability of a just and beneficent God. Because if God did exist, He’d messed up the job, and Luke knew that firsthand.

But if it made his mother feel better to pray, who was he to argue? Jenny Campbell was a great lady, a wonderful mom and grandma, and Luke loved and admired her. He’d leave the praying to her and her church friends.

An aging Camry darted into the school driveway ahead of him, then pulled to a quick, crooked stop in the mostly empty parking lot.

Luke angled into the spot alongside the other car and climbed out. He turned and locked gazes with the dark-haired woman staring at him, her unadorned hands grasping the top of the car door.

Breathtaking beauty. Tall and slim. Scared to death.

You’re in uniform, Einstein.

Of course. She thought he’d followed her into the school lot to issue a ticket, but she hadn’t done anything wrong. The posted signs were school-in-session speed limits, and she hadn’t exactly careened around the corner on two wheels.

But her face held more than concerned chagrin. It held fear, and the cop in him wondered why she feared police. He jerked his head toward the building as he walked that way. “You here for a meeting, too?”

Relief eased her jaw and the set of her shoulders. She nodded as she matched his stride. “Yes.”

Vulnerable but tough; they were two red warning flags, despite the instant attraction. Luke stayed away from vulnerable women. Once burned, twice shy.

Tough women weren’t his cup of tea, either.

His older brother Jack had scolded him the week before. Said he was afraid to shop around because he couldn’t find June Cleaver.

Was Jack right?

Most likely. But this woman wasn’t making eye contact with him, so the attraction must be one-sided.

Or she’s hiding something.

And that was just one more reason to keep his distance. If he could get beyond the caramel skin. The past-her-shoulders, wavy dark hair. Eyes round and deep-toned. “You’ve got a kid here?”

“Two.”

That surprised him. She looked young, mid-twenties. Too young to have two elementary school kids, at any rate. But maybe she wasn’t too young. He might be feeling old before his time.

He stepped forward and swung the door wide for her.

She glanced up to thank him.

Time stopped.

So did she.

Her eyes, a blend of storm-cloud gray and milk-chocolate brown, were a shade he had no name for. Brows, thin and arched, framed long lashes that looked real. Her mouth, soft and full, was perfectly shaped....

No makeup.

Unusual. Didn’t all beautiful women wear makeup these days?

She opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped, pressed her lips together, turned and moved through the door. But that moment—seconds that felt like long, drawn-out minutes—assured him the electricity went both ways.

They walked down one hall side by side, turned right, then proceeded to the principal’s office.

Mr. O’Mara stepped through his door. He nodded to Luke and sent a look of commiseration to the woman. “Rainey, I’m sorry, but you’re late. Deputy Campbell’s meeting is scheduled to start now. Can you wait here and we’ll meet about the twins once we’re done talking with Luke?”

Rainey.

Rainey Cabrera McKinney, the woman who’d done time years ago for a crime she didn’t commit. A woman who’d skated the edge of the law too often as a kid. His friend Piper McKinney had been raising Rainey’s twin daughters until Rainey returned to the family farm last month.

“Rainey wants to make amends,” Piper had told him.

The word on the street, and the look on her face, said the whole making-amends thing wasn’t going too well. Luke’s mother had a saying: “Small-town folks have little to talk about, and drawn-out winters to do it.”

With winter approaching, Piper McKinney’s sister might be in for a long, hard haul.

Rainey nodded, stepped back and took a seat on the hand-crafted wooden bench outside the office. “It’s no problem, Mr. O’Mara. I’ll wait here.”

Deep and poignant, her soft “Tex-Mex” voice complemented her looks, but that could be another strike against her. Kirkwood Lake was a great town, but with the summer recreational season over, people would have too much time on their hands. That could make things tough for the woman to his left. As if taking the fall for a dishonest friend and doing prison time wasn’t rough enough.

But right now he had his own personal dragon to face. He stepped into the office, gave a brisk nod to Miss Patterson, Aiden’s teacher, and took a seat. “About my son...”

* * *

Rainey drew a deep, calming breath.

The deputy had surprised her in the parking lot. She’d turned, seen his cruiser and frozen.

His look said he’d wondered why, but when the principal called her by name, she’d read awareness in the officer’s eyes.

He knew who she was. What she’d done. And what she’d failed to do by leaving her daughters in others’ care for three long years.

You have been cleansed, my daughter, clothed in the light. Grace has come upon you as the dewfall....

She loved that image. Silent, encompassing, peaceful.

Then why did her gut clench? Her thoughts ran rampant, wondering what the girls’ teachers would say.

Rainey stared at the door, wishing her mother or sister could have come along. But they were shorthanded at their Western New York dairy today, and someone had to watch Sonya and Dorrie.

You won’t have to worry about being shorthanded if your customer base keeps shrinking.

With Rainey’s return, customers at the dairy had diminished, sales were down and profits eroding, all because Rainey had taken the helm a few weeks back.

Her mother brushed it off. Lucia McKinney embraced an “and this too shall pass” mentality. She believed things would work out in God’s time, one way or another.

So did Piper.

Not Rainey. She hadn’t come home to mess things up more thoroughly; she’d come back to make things right. Set the record straight. And reclaim her position as the twins’ mother, a role she’d abdicated to keep them safe when a rogue cop threatened Rainey’s freedom...and her baby daughters.

Old guilt pricked her new and growing faith. Her girls were having trouble in school.

Were they following her example? Were they incorrigible? Or were they just normal kids fighting change, as Piper and her mother insisted?

The murmur of voices in the room said the officer—Luke Campbell, she remembered—was being bombarded. Maybe they’d get it out of their systems with the big, strong deputy and go easy on her.

The door to the office opened.

Luke came out, looking none too happy.

Mr. O’Mara’s expression wasn’t any better.

The teacher looked aggrieved. None of this boded well for Rainey’s time in the hot seat.

Luke waved her in. “Your turn in the line of fire, I believe.”

“Luke, we—”

“Mr. O’Mara, I understand where you’re coming from.” Luke turned to face the principal, and from the clipped sound of his voice, he wasn’t pleased with what had been said. “But I’m not letting anyone label Aiden at this point in his life. Yes, he has emotional issues. We’re trying to fix that. But I’m not allowing him to be placed in a special education classroom because his teacher expects a kindergartner to instantly conform to a new situation.”

“But—”

“We’ll talk at conference time in November,” Luke insisted, and Rainey had to admit the guy had a point. Maybe some five-year-olds could adjust quickly to a new setting and new people. But was it that big a deal if a kindergartner took a few weeks to settle in?

She wouldn’t have thought so, but then she wasn’t an example of stellar behavior. And her lack of experience put her maternal instincts into question.

The teacher’s noncommittal face said she disagreed. Mr. O’Mara appeared caught in the middle, but he stepped back, defusing the situation. “We’ll keep you apprised of Aiden’s progress. Miss Patterson and I both thought you should be brought on board from the beginning. You know we don’t make these recommendations lightly.”

Luke faced the principal directly. “We didn’t used to, Frank. But kids get pigeonholed more easily today than in the past, and I’d like a little more time for Aiden to adjust. He’s not causing a problem, right?”

“No.”

“It’s hard to cause a problem when you do nothing,” Miss Patterson replied. Her tone of voice was condescending and sanctimonious, as if she’d just been appointed the resident expert on five-year-olds.

That made Rainey suck in a deep breath.

Educated people intimidated her.

Yes, she’d gotten her associate’s degree in veterinary technology while serving time. And she’d worked as a vet tech for three years outside Chicago. But a two-year degree didn’t put her on equal footing with a licensed teacher who’d obtained her master’s degree in early education.

Luke must have caught her apprehension from the corner of his eye, because he leveled a look at her, one that intimated they were in this together, and said, “I’ll see you outside, Rainey.”

The teacher’s gaze sharpened.

Mr. O’Mara showed no reaction. He just waved to Luke and turned toward Rainey.

A second teacher stepped into the room—Mrs. Loughlin, Dorrie’s teacher. Rainey knew her. She used to be a steady customer at the dairy store, and her kids had gone to school with Rainey and Piper. Would Rainey’s past color the older woman’s opinion? Should she consider sending the twins to the small Christian school over in Bemus Point, where her youthful indiscretions weren’t so well-known?

She’d think about that later. Right now she needed to face these professionals and prove she was capable of mothering her girls in proper fashion.

She sat. Miss Patterson took a chair to her left, Mrs. Loughlin to her right. Frank completed the circle by drawing his chair forward. “Thank you for coming in, Rainey.”

“I’m sorry I was late. I know how important it is for the girls to have a successful school experience from the beginning.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Miss Patterson’s thin smile said she agreed. Her posture said she doubted Rainey’s ability to ensure any such thing. “Sonya’s a delight. A true treasure. So sweet, so endearing.” Her insincere smile came with an incoming-missile warning attached.

Miss Patterson’s brains might intimidate Rainey. Her veiled contempt didn’t. “But?”

Mr. O’Mara frowned.

Mrs. Loughlin sat quietly, hands folded.

Miss Patterson leaned in, cool as a fish on ice at the Saturday marketplace. “She doesn’t want to do anything without her sister.”

“Identical twins are often very close.”

“It makes things difficult,” the teacher continued. “She stares at the door, willing it to open. She’s distracted every time people go by in the hall. And she doesn’t mix well with the other children.”

“Is she disruptive?”

“No.”

“Annoying others?”

“No. Just...off in her own little world.”

“So she’s having adjustment problems in a new setting, and with a whole new set of expectations from strangers. That sounds fairly normal for a five-year-old.” Rainey might not be licensed to teach, but Sonya’s difficulties didn’t seem out of the ordinary for her first month in school.

“Rainey, I think that sums it up quite well,” Mr. O’Mara said. His tone said he didn’t find the child’s prognosis worrisome. “And I think Sonya will do fine once she gets over her shyness and her fear. But I needed you to hear Miss Patterson’s concerns firsthand.”

“Which I appreciate, Mr. O’Mara. And now, what about Dorrie?” She turned to Mrs. Loughlin, and her hopes plummeted as she read the negative look on the older woman’s face.

Mrs. Loughlin wasn’t a bad person. Her son had wanted to date Rainey in high school and his mother had been against it. Rainey didn’t blame her. Staying away from Rainey’s crowd had been in his best interests.

Now she wished people could see the new and improved woman she’d become. She’d returned to Kirkwood Lake determined to set the record straight. What did she have to show for her first two months? She’d messed up her daughters and eroded the dairy’s customer base, and with the all-important end-of-year sales approaching, she needed to find some way to fix things.

Fast.

“They may look alike, but Dorrie is quite different from her sister in many ways. I’m sure you’ve noticed that, Mrs. Loughlin.”

The teacher listed Dorrie’s negative attributes first, which raised the principal’s brow. “She’s tough, bossy, opinionated, and would take over the class in a heartbeat if I let her.”

That sure sounded like Dorrie. Rainey met Mr. O’Mara’s gaze. “And how is this being handled in school?”

Mrs. Loughlin cut in before he had a chance to respond. “I’ve tried cautions, both verbal and physical. You know, a hand on her shoulder, a warning to slow down and wait her turn. I’ve employed studious ignoring, quiet reminders, and I’m thinking of setting up a sticker program to see if that helps the situation.”

“A sticker program?” Rainey repeated. “A reward program, you mean. Stickers for good behavior.”

“A move like that can be beneficial to all concerned.”

Rainey breathed deeply, considering.

They’d called her on the carpet because one girl was quiet and sad about being separated from her twin, while the other was being a rambunctious, noisy twit.

And they’d drawn Rainey in to let her know they wanted to do a sticker reward program to help encourage good behavior? Or to make the point that her kids were apples that hadn’t fallen far from the tree?

Yes, the girls needed to behave. They needed to learn. But they were only three weeks into the year.

Luke’s words came back to her. He’d said he’d readdress the issues at conference time in November if they still existed. Well, that sounded good to her. “I will be happy to do whatever it takes to reinforce their good behavior in school and at home. Their education is very important to us. And then we can meet again at their scheduled conference in November to reevaluate.”

“Us?” Miss Patterson asked doubtfully. She exchanged a not-so-furtive look with Mrs. Loughlin, and in that moment, Rainey knew she’d never convince these women of her change of heart.

She cleared her throat, mustered a smile and stood. “My family. The McKinneys. We’ll work together to help the girls.”

“Wonderful.” Mr. O’Mara stood and extended his hand. “I knew we could count on you, Rainey.”

His words blessed her. His countenance, too. And the flat look he leveled in the teachers’ direction meant he wasn’t thrilled with how the meeting had gone, but it wasn’t Rainey’s behavior that disturbed him.

It was theirs.

Rainey thanked them, pushed through the heavy, plate-glass door of his office and wound her way back to the front. Bottled energy surged forth now that the meeting was over.

Her heart raced. She had an urge to punch someone, but common sense drew her up short. She knew she’d changed. Others didn’t, so she shouldn’t blame them for living in the ashes of a past best forgotten.

And her heart tipped straight into warp factor when she stepped outside on this beautiful fall day and saw Luke Campbell waiting for her, just as he’d said.

Only she hadn’t believed him. Or even thought of it again until just now, but there he was, heading her way. He raised a hand to his forehead, shading bright blue eyes from the glare of the late-afternoon sun. Short, blond hair edged his deputy’s cap. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed, he looked like a modern-day Celtic warrior.

“You survived.” He ambled forward, not appearing too happy. But something in his face—an expression that said he understood what she’d just endured and wanted to help—softened the rapid beat of her heart. The spike in her pulse. The knot of dread that formed in her gut every time someone peered at her and saw the old Rainey...

“Alive, but not unscathed.”

The glint in his eyes said he reciprocated the feeling.

“You waited for me.”

“I said I would.” He flicked a glance at the school, reminding her of his promise inside. “And I’m a man of my word.”

“Why did you wait?”

He fell into step alongside her. “I could tell Miss Patterson was spoiling for a fight. She’ll go easy on me because her younger sister is married to my uncle. I was afraid she might take it out on you.”

“Pretty unprofessional.”

Luke took three long steps before answering. “She lost her parents this past year. I know she’s been struggling. My aunt thought she should take a leave of absence, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Keeping busy might be good for her, but I’m not sure it’s in the best interests of her students.”

What a conundrum. Still, the deputy was right. The kids should always come first. But who was Rainey to judge? She had a host of grave mistakes on her record already. She turned his way as they reached their cars. “We’ll give her time.”

The deputy didn’t look convinced. “I don’t offer a lot of leeway when I’m talking about my kid.”

Add protective and loving to crazy good-looking and a pulse-stopping smile.

Add nothing. He’s a cop. You’re an ex-con. Even with your record expunged, you did time. And then you left your girls.

She had. She knew that. But she’d returned, determined to make things right. At the moment, she wasn’t sure if her return was selfless or self-motivated but that was her personal dragon to slay. “Ex-cons don’t get much leeway, either.”

To his credit, he didn’t pretend otherwise. “True.”

“Life might not offer do-overs, but everyone deserves a second chance.” She aimed her gaze up to his. “Don’t they?”

His face said maybe. Maybe not. From a cop’s perspective, his reluctance to agree made sense. From hers?

His reticence was another chunk in a well-built wall. A wall she needed to scale or break down, one brick at a time. She looked beyond him to the terraced village leading down to the water’s edge. Yellowing foliage blocked the shoreline view. Once the leaves turned completely, they’d fall. The holiday season would be at hand, her first Thanksgiving and Christmas with her girls in years. That was enough, wasn’t it?

Unless you shouldn’t have come back at all. The insidious whisper crawled up from somewhere deep within. The girls are struggling and your effect on the family business may prove disastrous. Who exactly are you helping by your presence in Kirkwood?

Her hands went cool and clammy. A shiver that had nothing to do with the fall weather crept up her spine. “My decision to come home—to fix things—might be more a detriment than a help,” she admitted. “And that’s the reality I wake up to each morning these days.” She turned and moved toward her mother’s car, knowing her past limited her future, but those do-overs she talked about? The ones that weren’t possible?

Oh, how she wished they were.

* * *

A detriment?

Impossible, thought Luke. Not with her face, her hair, those eyes, storm-cloud gray, deep and luminous. Eyes that held a constant mix of emotions. Her life held a blend of misdeeds and misfortune, sure, but everyone had a past, including him, and smart folks knew enough to let it be. Unfortunately, not everyone in town saw things that way.

The urge to protect and defend rose within him, but Luke sloughed it off. He’d loved a woman with issues once, and losing her had nearly killed him. It had killed his faith and a good share of his hope, at least until they’d found Aiden, unharmed. Hope had bloomed that day, within a cloud of sorrow.

Aiden came first, from that point forward. “I’d like to offer you a proposition. About our kids. ”

Rainey looked at him, confused, and Luke smiled. “Aiden loves your girls. I’ve been working overtime since you got back home, and with all the drama at the farm, I knew your family was crazy busy.”

They had been fighting off an eminent domain petition put forth by the town supervisor. For a few weeks, tensions ran high, until the town ruled in favor of McKinney Farms. Still, Luke’s words were only half-true. He’d avoided his friend’s farm because Rainey was back. Coming face-to-face with a woman who’d abandoned her children didn’t make his short list. Fate had decided otherwise today. “Aiden comes out of his shell when the twins are around.”

“Okay...” She drew the word out, as if wondering where he was going. But she was willing to listen.

“I was thinking we could strategize together. Dorrie brings out the adventurer in Aiden when they play together. Aiden brings out the protector in Sonya. And together they help Dorrie think twice before getting into trouble. What if we set up a way to help them help us?”

“You mean playdates?

He shrugged lightly. “Beyond that. Like our own little classes to help reinforce good behavior. Does that make sense to you?”

Rainey paused, thinking. “I can’t give you an answer right off. First, because it sounds good and that means there’s most likely a flaw we’ve overlooked.”

He nodded, but the only flaw he saw was that being around Rainey could prove dangerous to his heart. Luckily, he believed in aspirin therapy and a good diet. Except for nachos on game days. And strawberry-rhubarb pie. He wasn’t opposed to ice cream from McKinney’s Dairy Store, either.

“Second, I don’t wade into unknown waters. I think and pray, and that’s stopped me from doing and saying a lot of stupid things as an adult. Including some of the thoughts that ran through my mind in that meeting.” She frowned in the direction of the school.

Her honesty made him smile. “I concur.”

“Third.” She met his gaze. And while he read the uncertain shadows in her eyes, she proved she had them under control with her next words. “Getting involved with anyone isn’t on my agenda, Luke. So if this is your version of a pickup line, you get a gold star for ingenuity. But I’m not interested.”

Her eyes said the words weren’t quite accurate. She was interested but didn’t want to be.

Well. That made two of them.

Her firm stance said she wouldn’t budge an inch. And that made Luke wonder—for just a moment—if he could convince her otherwise.

He let go of that thought instantly, but it came back to haunt him after they agreed to talk later in the week, and said their goodbyes.

The deal was good for both of them. And he couldn’t pretend that spending time with Rainey would be punishment. Not with that face, that hair, that voice.

He refocused his thoughts on the kids, three rascals who needed time and space to establish their roots. His mother believed good family roots allowed for great wings, and Luke was determined Aiden should have both, even if he’d been reluctant to follow through in the past. Maybe with Rainey’s girls around more often, the three of them could attain more solid ground together.


Chapter Two

Rainey strode down the hall to Miss Patterson’s room on Friday afternoon. Mr. O’Mara met her at the door. “I’m sorry we had to call you in, Rainey, but we’ve got a situation here.”

Mr. O’Mara was the kind of principal that kept his cool. Today he looked exasperated. At her? At the twins? She didn’t know. “How can I help?”

Her words softened his expression. “Come over here.” He walked to a door on the far side of the empty room.

“Where are the kids?” She glanced around the classroom. Bright-toned fall leaves decorated a mural of trees on two walls. Alphabet squares took the place of fruit and nuts among the branches, an inviting way of introducing letters to small children. “Art class? Music?”

“We took them into the gym for playtime so they wouldn’t witness adults pulling their hair out over the antics of two miscreants.” Miss Patterson bit the words through tight teeth, looking none too pleased. Was it Rainey’s presence or the twins’ misbehavior that pushed her this far?

“Sonya and Dorrie, this is Mommy speaking. Come out of there. Now.”

“Dorrie’s not in there.”

A deep voice rumbled from Rainey’s left, and she didn’t have to turn to see the deputy sheriff’s broad chest and shaved chin, he was suddenly standing so close. Warmth emanated from his dark blue uniform shirt. His tie was crooked, as if he’d loosened it, unthinking. He was hatless right now, and his blond-brown hair curled slightly, even cut short. “Aiden and Sonya have locked themselves in the closet.”

Rainey couldn’t resist. “That’s a pretty bold move for a couple of shy kids.”

“But we’d prefer they embolden themselves in a socially acceptable manner,” interjected Miss Patterson, unamused. “Rather than disrupt the entire afternoon lesson with this nonsense.”

Luke shifted slightly. His shoulders rose. His chest broadened. To save them from the outburst she figured was coming, Rainey stretched out a hand. “Give me the key and I’ll open the door.”

Mr. O’Mara frowned. Miss Patterson looked suddenly guilt-stricken.

Luke’s mouth dropped open as realization struck. “You don’t have a key to this door?”

“It appears to be missing.”

“Because I haven’t needed to lock this closet ever.” Miss Patterson’s voice tightened. “Therefore there was no need for a key. Until today, that is.”

“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.

He drew a deep breath and felt his overanxious heart start to settle down.

“Mr. O’Mara, did you have something you wanted to add?” Seeming quite at ease, Rainey shifted her attention to the principal.

He shook his head. “I think you covered it all, Rainey.”

“Then you—” Rainey set Sonya down and squatted next to her “—scoot back to your classroom, and behave yourself. The bus will bring you home in one hour.”

“You’re not taking me home now?” Sonya looked scared, as if worried what her teacher’s reaction would be. Luke wondered the same thing himself, but Rainey simply shook her head.

“You need to be brave every day. And follow directions. That’s how life is, cupcake, and I’d be doing you no favor by babying you.”

Luke wanted to hug Sonya. Reassure her. Tell her everything would be all right. Then hold her hand and take her home.

To his surprise, Sonya sent a resigned look to her mother, then walked slowly down the hall. She turned to glance over her shoulder as she stepped into the kindergarten room, but Rainey kept her gaze averted, as if she expected the daughter to follow directions.

And the kid did it.

Luke eyed Aiden.

He should do the same thing. Put his son down and let him go face the dragon lady on his own.

He started to set Aiden down, but the boy clung to his neck. He didn’t say a word, didn’t whimper or whine, but that stranglehold on Luke’s neck spoke volumes. “I’m going to drop Aiden off with his sitter, then send him back on Monday.”

“All right, Luke.” Mr. O’Mara looked as if he wanted to say more, but thought better of it. The principal had made a wise choice, considering Luke’s current mood.

He walked out of the building just behind Rainey and wasn’t sure if she was hurrying to stay ahead of him, or to make certain she escaped before Sonya or Dorrie did something else. Either way, he needed to thank her. “Rainey.”

She turned at the edge of the parking lot. “Yes?”

Luke shrugged his free shoulder. “Thank you. You stayed calm and levelheaded. It helped. A lot.”

She waved him off as if it was nothing, but Luke knew better. Staying calm under pressure was a wonderful trait, something he prided himself on.

Except when it came to Aiden.

He followed her to her car at the back of the full lot. “Have you thought about what I said the other day?” He shifted the boy slightly in his arms. “You saw Dorrie in there. You heard how things went down. I think it could work in everyone’s favor.”

Rainey stood perfectly still for a long, drawn-out moment, then smiled at Aiden. “We’ve got nothing to lose, right?”

“Right.”

She hesitated again, then nodded. “How about if I bring the girls over tomorrow afternoon? The store is busy on Saturday mornings, but if Noreen can take over by midday, we’d have a few hours together. Dorrie wants to show me the tree house and Sonya wants me to help her take care of the animals.”

“Bring your barn boots,” Luke warned. The image of Rainey hanging out in the barn, feeding his menagerie, brightened his thoughts. That was something he’d have to think about later.

Rainey laughed. “Will do. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She slipped behind the wheel of her mother’s car and backed out of the spot carefully. Aiden lifted his head and offered Luke a penitent expression. “I’m sorry.” He whispered the words in a tragic voice, a voice that took Luke back nearly three years.

He hugged the little guy, withdrew the booster seat he kept in the cruiser’s trunk, and fastened Aiden into the backseat. “No more locked doors, okay?”

Aiden nodded, but as Luke settled himself into the driver’s seat, he glimpsed a tiny look of satisfaction on his son’s face reflected in the rearview mirror. It vanished as soon as they made eye contact, but Luke hadn’t gotten to be a decorated deputy by accident. The kid had smirked, knowing he’d pulled one over on his teacher, the principal and now his father.

Which meant Luke’s mother was right. Again. Aiden knew how to play his dad and wasn’t afraid to pull out all stops to avoid going to school. But what could Luke do about it other than order the kid to stay in class, in his seat, and pay attention?

Luke called his former sister-in-law and asked if she could watch Aiden an hour early. She agreed, and he headed to the opposite side of Kirkwood Lake, stewing over his choices.

Rainey’s kid was back in class, following the rules.

His was heading home, essentially getting a reward for misbehaving.

Luke didn’t have to wonder which kid learned the better lesson. The realization that Rainey had instinctively handled the situation more effectively than all the other adults around her, including him, made him realize he might have a thing or two to learn from Rainey McKinney himself.

* * *

Regret waged war with common sense as Rainey drove back to the farm. Sonya’s expression of woe had tugged at Rainey’s heart, even though she’d pretended ignorance.

“Better they cry now than you cry later....”

Her mother’s words struck home. She’d gone easy on Rainey as a child. And Rainey had strayed from the right path and caused her mom grief. But they’d both learned a valuable lesson the hard way, and Sonya and Dorrie would benefit from it. She hoped.

Rainey’s brain revved into overdrive as she passed the park sign: Kirkwood Lake Bicentennial Kickoff! Join us for a Fall Festival of fun and food as Kirkwood Lake begins its year-long, 200-years-young birthday celebration!

Piper and Lucia had reserved a festival spot during the bicentennial planning phases last spring. There was plenty of room to include a dairy booth. That would give Rainey a chance to meet folks, show them she’d changed and tempt them with the wonderful goods from the dairy store. Tackling the problem head-on might bring back old customers and attract new ones, crucial elements for the upcoming holiday season.

Can you do this? Face people, hour after hour, keeping your game face on?

Her resolve faltered as she turned into the farm driveway, but then she hauled in a deep, cleansing breath.

God had blessed her.

She was stronger now than she’d ever been. Sure, she’d take hits. After the cool welcome she’d encountered in town the first month, she’d be naive to expect otherwise.

But she was made of hardy stock, and endowed with a faith that moved mountains. Determined, she parked the car and dashed into the house for a notepad and pencil, before going on to the dairy store located behind the farmhouse. As she rushed through the empty dining room, the afternoon light shone on Christmas pictures of Dorrie and Sonya.

So much time gone. Memories Rainey could never be part of because she hadn’t been here.

The twins were dressed alike in the first picture, but even then Dorrie’s eyes had gleamed with mischief, while Sonya’s gentle gaze begged for love. The next image showed them a year older, sitting with Santa at the Fireman’s Hall. The girls had posed with the jolly old elf individually, then together in front of a huge Christmas tree. To the right of the tree was a beautiful crèche, carved figures of the Holy Family in a rugged wooden barn.

The final picture showed the girls last year, playing angels in a living Nativity scene sponsored by a local church. They’d been dressed in white bedsheets, their latte-toned skin contrasting with their robes. Gold garland halos nestled against their dark hair. Beyond them lay a sheep and a lamb, while slightly older children played the parts of Mary, Joseph and the wise men.

It wrenched Rainey’s heart.

She lifted the first picture, of the girls as adorable toddlers. Was she wrong to have left?

Probably. But her leaving had ensured the girls safety and that was what mattered. Rogue cops were nothing to be taken lightly, and bad cops who’d had witnesses disappear before?

They’d posed a direct threat thwarted by her whistle-blowing phone calls.

This year would be different. She wouldn’t spend this Christmas alone, crying as she tended animals in an empty veterinary clinic outside Chicago. She’d be here in Kirkwood, with the girls and her mother. With Uncle Berto, Piper and the Harrison family next door. For the first time in three years Rainey wouldn’t dread the change of seasons and the lonely holiday. This year she’d join in the celebration, because this year she was home. And no matter what happened, she was home to stay.

She joined Noreen in the store and used the next few hours to roughly sketch how she’d like the dairy booth to look.

At seven o’clock, she closed the store and headed for the house, reenergized. The family gathered for a meeting each Friday night, where everyone aired ideas and compared notes. At tonight’s get-together she’d convince them to let her put her best foot forward. No matter what, she had to make them listen to her concerns about the loss of business. And take action. Even if it meant Rainey had to find a different job. She crossed the wide yard and hurried into the house.

Wedding plans were spread out across the large dining room table. Farm notes were laid out in similar fashion in the kitchen.

“I saved food for you.” Lucia smiled at Rainey as she came into the room. “Nice and warm, in the oven. You eat and we talk.”

Food was the last thing on Rainey’s mind, but her mom’s caretaking was a welcome respite from the negativity she encountered whenever she stepped off the farm. “Thanks, Mama.”

“Okay.” Rainey’s sister, Piper, called for attention as people grabbed seats. “Wedding first. Let’s take thirty minutes to coordinate things and make sure we’re synchronized.”

“Are we planning a wedding or strategizing a battle plan?” Zach Harrison wondered, but then the New York State trooper flashed a smile toward his fiancée.

Piper leveled him a look, then laughed. “How can we have seven adults in this family and not one of us has ever planned a wedding?”

Zach’s father shrugged. “Zach’s mother did all the work for Julia and Evan’s wedding. My job was to sign the checks.”

Zach held up ringless hands. “First-timer.”

Piper acknowledged his hand and added, “And your only time, buster.”

Her mom made a face of regret. So did Uncle Berto, Lucia’s brother.

“Julia’s planned a wedding. Maybe we should have her come over,” Zach suggested. His sister was living in his house next door, until she closed on her own place two miles south.

Berto sprang out of his chair. “I will go watch her little boys and she can talk flowers and fancy cakes and things. On wedding day, I will be a bear.” He drew up his shoulders to make himself look bigger. “Moving things, setting things up, taking things down, this I can do. Planning a party?” He strode to the door, looking relieved. “Miss Julia will be better equipped.”

Lucia waved him on. “Go. It is a good idea. The boys like their uncle Berto.”

“Me, too.” Piper sent him a look of gratitude. “Thank you.”

Julia joined them less than five minutes later. She carried a clipboard and had a pen stuck behind her ear. She walked in, scanned the planning notes on the table, and within thirty minutes had a timeline of the wedding day mapped out. “I’ll transfer this to my laptop this weekend,” she told them when they wrapped up the session. “And I’ll email it to each of you. Notify me if anything changes and I’ll keep it updated.

“Everything’s been ordered,” she continued. “We’ll use the front barn for the reception if the weather turns bad, and we have six days after the wedding to get ready for the bicentennial festival. That takes us right into the holidays. We’ll be fine as long as we pay attention to details.”

Marty Harrison grinned at her. “You are your mother’s daughter, for sure.”

Julia’s smile turned bittersweet. “I see Mom’s face when I look in the mirror. But that could mean I’m getting old.”

“That’s my vote,” Zach quipped.

Julia punched his arm, then laughed when he hugged her. “Mom would have loved seeing you get married.” The wistful note in her voice said she missed their late mother. “And she’d adore Piper.”

Zach nudged his future wife. “Me, too.”

“And now, the farm plans.” Piper moved to the kitchen table, but not before she met Zach’s smile of appreciation with a wink. “The legal move to incorporate as Harrison-McKinney Farms will be completed next week.” She high-fived Zach’s father across the table. Their new partnership put McKinney Farms back on solid financial ground. Except for the current loss of business in the dairy store.

“But we’ll keep the name McKinney Farms to avoid confusion,” Marty added. “Keeping it simple is best for business and reputation.”

“Marty’s name will be added to the farm signs we’ve ordered, and it will be on our letterhead and all official documents.”

“And Piper and I are going to the stock sale in early November to add a new line of heifers to our breed stock,” Marty added. “By next fall we should have an overabundance of milk to supply the new Greek yogurt facility near I-90 and the dairy store.”

“So all is good on that front.” Piper turned toward Rainey. “And now the dairy store.”

Rainey stood. She hated to be a downer at the family meeting, but the numbers gave her little choice. “We’re losing money at the store and I believe it’s because of me.”

Lucia’s lips thinned.

Piper’s expression went from engaging to concerned in a flash. “Rainey, we always have a slowdown in September. Kids go back to school, ice cream sales drop. The days are getting shorter so people don’t come out at night like they do over the summer. Then things pick up again in October and go crazy until the holidays.”

Rainey acknowledged that with a nod as she passed a printed sheet to each of them. “That’s all true, and it’s supported by last year’s figures, but here’s the problem.” She pointed out a group of highlighted numbers. “Our everyday stock items have dropped nearly twenty percent from last September’s figures. That’s huge. That eats up our profit margin and dumps us ten percent into the hole. And I think it’s because some customers don’t like who I was. That’s a tough thing for folks to move past.”

“We all make mistakes,” Marty counseled. He shrugged lightly. “And people forget, Rainey. It just takes time.”

“But can we survive for however long that takes?” Rainey wondered. “I know you want me to stay,” she told everyone. “You’re all being wonderful about this, but I have to do something to fix the situation or I’ll go crazy worrying about it.”

“Worry is not of God,” Lucia reminded her. “He has taken care of us so far, mi Larraina. I trust He will take care of this, as well.”

Rainey appreciated her mother’s gesture of acceptance, but knew she needed to act quickly. “Well, I’d like to help the good Lord all I can, so here’s what I’m proposing. We’ve got a farm booth signed up for the bicentennial festival. I’d like to have a dairy booth alongside. We’ve got portable coolers and the generator, we could use the space you’ve already reserved so we don’t have to ask for extra space from the committee, and it would be a great way to give out samples of the new items we’re going to carry for the holidays. I don’t want Noreen outside all day if the weather during the festival is dicey, but Marly said she has no classes that Friday so she’ll help me run the booth all day Friday and Saturday.”

“You want to run the booth yourself?” Piper asked, glancing at her and Lucia with concern. “You’re comfortable with that?”

What Piper meant was could she handle the knowing looks and possible nasty remarks people might make?

Rainey shrugged. “I love working in the dairy store and overseeing the milk production in the back room. And I like people. Right now, a lot of local folks don’t trust me. Helping at the festival will give them a chance to see me in a new light. If we fix this now, it will have less impact on our holiday sales, and we all know that fourth-quarter sales could make or break the year for us.”

“There could be repercussions,” Zach cautioned. “Are you ready for that, Rainey? People might act stupid, given the chance.”

“Yes.” She answered with conviction, but fought the internal threat of foreboding. “Dad used to say ‘Peace begins with a smile.’”

“Mother Teresa’s saying.” The reminder of their father’s gentle ways made Piper smile.

“So.” Zach brought them back to the practical. “What do we need for your booth? We’ll make a list of supplies that Dad and I can get. You ladies have enough on your plates with the wedding. You tell me how you want the booth to look, and Dad and I will create it.”

Rainey handed him a pencil sketch. “Done.”

He laughed and pocketed the paper. “You don’t waste time.”

“Well, I used to.” She sent the group a small grimace of remorse. “But not anymore. And the best steel comes from the toughest forging, right?”

“Amen.”

The group started to disband, but Piper paused near Rainey before following Zach outside. “You’ve come a long way.”

Rainey nodded.

“But I don’t want you to push yourself too far. I want you to feel comfortable. At peace.”

Rainey hugged her. “I will,” she promised. “But I can’t sit back and let things happen if there’s a way to fix them. That’s a quality I learned from you, Piper. And my mother.”

“We’ll do all we can,” her sister promised.

“I don’t move into my own house until the first week of November, and I’m not on call the weekend of the festival,” Julia interjected. “Let me work the stand with you. It would give me a chance to meet people here. As long as Lucia would be willing to have the boys underfoot.”

“Doing farm work won’t bother you?” Rainey asked.

“Not at all. Why?”

“Well, you’re a midwife now.” Rainey reminded her, as if that was reason enough to bow out of festival farm help. “A professional.”

Julia laughed. “Once a farm girl, always a farm girl. And while I wasn’t big on the cows, I love the marketing stuff. Farm stands, fairs, the people. Sign me up, Rainey. I’m glad to help.”

“Will do.”

Rainey helped her mother straighten up the kitchen. Bags of freshly made croutons lined one counter, ready for sale. A list of chores sat alongside the bags. Lucia’s organization and planning had helped make the farm business a slowly growing success over the past decade and a half. Now, with Marty’s investment and partnership, McKinney Farms could become a flagship enterprise. This was the chance they’d all been waiting for.

“Rainey.”

“Hmm?” She turned and was engulfed by her mother’s warm embrace. She’d caused her mom so much grief over the years. She had no way to repay Lucia for her constant faith, which was so undeserved. Rainey hugged her mother back, but then Lucia created a little distance between them and met her gaze.

“You are not to make yourself crazy over this.” Lucia waved to the store. “We will do our best and people will come around, but I do not want you to back-step.”

“Backslide.” Rainey smiled at the misused word. “I won’t, Mama, I—”

“I say this because I know my daughter best,” Lucia insisted. “I knew you were not guilty of that crime and I know you wear this too much on your heart. I don’t want for you to have more nightmares. More pain.”

Nightmares had dogged Rainey after her prison stint, but she was better these days. Most of the time. “I’m stronger now. Don’t worry. Didn’t you just tell me worry is not what God wants for us?”

Lucia sighed and frowned. “Yes, but—”

“No buts. I’m taking the girls over to Luke Campbell’s house tomorrow afternoon once the store quiets down. If Marly and Noreen need help, can they call you?”

“Of course. But Luke Campbell? How did you meet him?”

“At the school,” Rainey explained. “It seems our children enjoy being naughty together.”

Lucia’s broad face split into a smile. “That is quite true. Each one thinking of some new way to put gray in my hair, but so sweet. Sweeter, though, when they sleep.”

Rainey laughed. “Well, we’re trying to work together to make them more comfortable in school. And maybe I can get the twins to help with the festival project.”

“And being with the girls is good for his boy.” Lucia nodded, satisfied. “I think this is good. His family is big and nice and they care for each other always.”

Her words reminded Rainey of the family she’d longed for as a child. She’d wanted the American dream. The Cosby Show come to life. Even after her mother married Tucker McKinney, money problems were pervasive. Getting the farm back on solid ground after Tucker’s wife had taken her share of the farm’s assets had been a struggle of work, work and more work.

Rainey had rebelled, too immature to realize that God blessed the work of human hands.

She’d been a foolish child, then a disrespectful teenager, but she’d changed. Now if she could only convince the community of that.


Chapter Three

On Saturday afternoon Luke scrubbed damp palms against the sides of his jeans and frowned.

Why did Rainey’s impending arrival with the twins make him nervous? Piper had brought the girls over plenty of times in the past.

This isn’t Piper.

This was Rainey, the bad-girl sister, the object of community-wide speculation, most of it negative.

He firmed his jaw, determined to keep things easy, friendly, and then she pulled into the driveway. The girls tumbled out of the backseat, laughing and racing to join Aiden in the tree house, with barely a hello to Luke.

He scarcely saw them. His attention was drawn to Rainey. His breath caught somewhere deep in his chest as she stepped out of the car. She’d clipped her long wave of hair into some kind of barrette behind her head. The hairstyle accented the perfect oval of her face, the high cheekbones, the delicate arch of her neck and throat. A tiny gold cross hung on a thin chain. She watched the girls race across the yard, then turned his way.

She saw his expression. Read his look.

She stood perfectly still, her eyes on his, and for the life of him, Luke didn’t want to break the connection. Finally, he moved forward, feeling like a gawky teen. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She flashed him a quiet smile and arched one brow in the direction of the tree. “They’re fine up there?”

“Have been so far. Notice I put rails around the edge, so they can’t fall.”

“Except from the ladder.”

He nodded. “I was thinking of adding a cushioned landing for them, just in case.”

“Or don’t, so they learn to hold on tight, because it really isn’t all that high.”

Luke sucked in a breath. Her advice sounded like something his family would say. “Life comes with enough peril attached.”

Rainey moved toward the tree house as she answered. “The more prepared we are, the better our chances of survival.”

“You think I baby Aiden.”

She turned, still smiling, and he saw no censure in her gaze. “I don’t know you well enough to make an assumption like that, and I’m stumbling through parenthood myself, so I’m not about to judge you on your methods.” Her tone didn’t condemn, it offered acceptance, and that felt good to Luke after the verbal scoldings he’d been getting lately. “I know life is a precious gift, and God expects us to take care of our children, heart and soul. That’s a balancing act right there.”

“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.

Sheer beauty.

And it wasn’t because of her lovely face, her gold-toned skin or the soft tumble of hair.

It was her spirit, shining through the smile she gave him.

His chest tightened, as it did the week before when he’d first laid eyes on her. But inside, his heart melted.

Think, man. She’s got a troubled history. And even if she didn’t commit the crime she did time for, she was part of the gang that held up that store.

He knew all that. Rainey’s teenage years had been nothing but trouble, but in all his years on the force, he’d seen a lot of kids change their lives. Why not her? Why not now?

You’re willing to risk Aiden’s well-being? You’re a grown man. He’s a kid who’s already drawn the short straw on mothers once. Leave it alone.

Luke had to. He knew it.

But ignoring this attraction to Rainey was the last thing he wanted to do.

She curtsied to the trio in the tree. “And when you’re finished with that, young royals, I’ll be sure to tidy up the castle forthwith.”

Her poor imitation of a highbrow British accent made them giggle. They ducked inside the little house, and their delighted voices made Luke silence the voices nagging him. “This was a great idea.”

Rainey aimed a wistful look at the tree house. “I missed a lot of tea parties while I was gone. I need to make that up to them.”

He longed to offer words of comfort, but they’d be just that. Empty words.

She noted his silence with a resigned look. “But I’m back now and determined to be a good mother.”

He couldn’t address that subject honestly, so he opted for a new topic, a safe one and hoped she didn’t notice his lack of segue. “How are the wedding plans coming? Everything going all right?”

* * *

His quick change of subject said Luke found her former actions reprehensible. Well, so did she, but that was then. This was now. “Quite well. We had a family meeting last night and all systems are go.”

He laughed. “My mother helped with my brothers’ weddings. She was insanely busy during the planning. And there wasn’t much I could do to help except haul furniture around. And deliver stuff.”

After seeing her uncle’s reaction the night before, Rainey completely understood. “Uncle Berto said the same thing. Still, those are important tasks when you’ve got a big party planned. And we’re adding a dairy section to our farm booth for the festival the week after, so I’ve got to make sure I have everything set for that. The wedding, the booth, the store, decorating.”

“That’s an ambitious project,” he mused. “Do you need a generator? I’ve got a portable one. I’m doing a petting zoo with the crew—” he motioned toward the barn “—but I don’t need electricity. They’ll have the park lights on, and temporary lights will be strung around the perimeters.”

“I could use an extra generator as backup. I don’t want anything to go wrong.”

He crossed the yard and sat down at the round picnic table under a sprawling maple tree. “Who’s manning the booth?”

“Me.”

His hesitation said he wasn’t oblivious to the talk around town.

“Julia and Marly are helping.” Rainey met his gaze frankly. “I think it’s best for people to see me. Talk to me. It’s time for folks to accept me as the adult I am, not the brat I was.”

“You think it’s that easy?” Luke’s face mirrored the concern in his voice, and it wasn’t hard to see the born protector in the man sitting opposite her.

“On the contrary, I think it will be very difficult. But sales are down since I took over the dairy store, and I can’t take the chance that my presence is hurting the farm. So I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Luke whistled softly. “That’s a lot to take on your shoulders, Rain.”

Her heart sighed.

The way he shortened her name sounded just right, coming from him. Sweet. Personal.

But there were multiple reasons why they could never be sweet and personal, so she ignored the adrenaline rush and redirected her attention to the far barn. “Can we meet the horses?”

“Aiden and Sonya will insist on introducing you to the entire menagerie, so yes. Absolutely. We can head over there now. The kids will find us.”

“Make them clean up the tree house first,” she instructed him. “You don’t want mice and rats up there, feasting after the kids are done.”

“The cats help keep them at bay.”

She nodded. “They do at the farm as well, but there’s no use tempting them into a kids’ play area, right? Do you have a whisk broom?”

“No. Nor do I even know what a whisk broom is. And don’t tell me you have one in your mother’s trunk, because that’s way too Mary Poppins.”

“Mary Poppins is preferable to my current image in town,” she told him. “Maybe you’ve got a short-handled broom in the barn?”

“I do.”

“Perfect.”

They approached the far paddock, and Rainey didn’t hesitate to climb the rungs of fencing, tempting the horses her way. The two mares shifted her a look, touched noses and proceeded to ignore her, kind of like the reaction she got from the kindergarten teachers, but the aged gelding walked her way, sensing a friend.

“Yes, old boy, hello.” She crooned the words and looped an arm around the horse’s neck. “Aren’t you just a love? And so beautiful, such a pretty shade of chestnut. What’s your name?”

“Spirit.”

She turned to Luke and smiled as the horse rubbed his cheek along her shoulder, begging to be stroked. “What a perfect name.”

“He was part of the county’s mounted patrol for over a decade. A few years after Spirit retired, the fellow that owned him died. His son took over the place and Spirit fell on hard times for half a dozen years.”

“Abused.”

“And neglected, underfed, unshod, long-in-the-tooth.” Luke reached over her head to scratch the old horse’s head. “I found him on a rescue call and brought him here.”

“Well, he’s gorgeous.” She touched her forehead against the horse’s neck, the scents of farm, barn, hay and horse a welcome home she’d missed. “I never realized how lucky I was to grow up on a farm until I was out in the big world and saw what the general population has to do to survive. Kids are so oblivious to the beauty that surrounds them. I was, anyway.”

“I think most of us are. Except our current quiet moment is about to be shattered.”

“Mommy, you’re meeting the horses!” Sonya raced to Rainey’s side and reached out to pet Spirit’s flank. “Hey, Spirit, this is my mommy. And that’s Bella over there.” She pointed across the paddock. “And that’s Oh My Stars, but we just call her Star.”

“They’re beautiful, Sonya.”

“Can we go around back to see the other animals?” Dorrie begged.

“Dad, let’s show her the goats. And the sheep.”

“And baby lambs,” Dorrie offered in a singsong voice, much as Rainey had done to the old horse.

Rainey turned to hop off the rail, but paused when Luke grasped her waist to help her down.

Firm. Strong. Rugged. Gentle.

All those qualities came through that simple touch, his hands gripping her middle as he set her onto firm ground.

She couldn’t look up, not just yet. He’d see the effect he had on her, and neither one of them could afford to cross the line they’d drawn in the sand.

He didn’t wait for her to look up. He ducked his head to see her and shoved his hands pointedly into his pockets. “We’re in trouble, Rain.”

She knew exactly what he meant, but shook her head firmly. “No, we’re not. We won’t allow ourselves to be.”

His bemused grin said they’d passed that point somewhere back in that school parking lot, and she worried the inside of her cheek, knowing he was right, but determined to prove him wrong. As long as he kept his hands, looks and smiles to himself.

Their eyes met as they rounded the corner, and his expression said he understood.

But then he smiled, which indicated he kind of liked their current roller coaster of emotions, and if she was totally honest with herself, she did, too. Which was another reason to make sure she applied the brakes, ASAP.

Dorrie skipped ahead, leading the way into the second barn. Then she sighed, exasperated, and led them back out the other side. “I forgot, Luke.”

“And then you remembered.”

She nodded and dashed around the perimeter fencing. “Luke says that animals like being outside on nice days, just like kids. So they’ll be over here, not in the barn.”

“I want to show her the sheep!”

“They’re my sheep. I get to show her!”

“Aiden, that’s selfish!”

“Mom!”

“Dad!”

Rainey stooped to their level as they curved around the rustic fencing. “How about you all show me? Dorrie, you tell me the ewe’s name. And Aiden, you and Sonya introduce me to the lambs.”

“But there are three babies.” Aiden’s frown said that didn’t add up, but then he grinned and pointed to his father. “Dad can tell you the last baby’s name.”

“That’s fair,” Luke supposed. As they approached the sheep pen, the sight of three little lambs, cozied together in the shade of a small wooden hutch, made Rainey sigh again. Their white fleece gleamed against golden wheat straw, and the image was like a shot from an old-world Nativity scene. “Oh, how precious! Aren’t they the sweetest things?”

Luke met her eyes, his expression saying the lambs might have some stiff competition today.

That look made Rainey long to be the sweetest thing in Luke Campbell’s life.

She was anything but that, so she turned back to the animals.

“They’re using these guys for the living Nativity at my parents’ church this year.” Arms loose on the uppermost rail, Luke turned his attention back to the lambs. “Testy O’Brien is bringing a somewhat stubborn donkey, and in lieu of camels, my three alpacas will take the place of the wise men’s mounts.”

A living Nativity scene. Home for the holidays. Christmas with her girls.

Tough emotions rose within Rainey. For the past three years, she’d volunteered to oversee the vet clinic and kennel in Oak Park, allowing others to spend the day with family, hoping to feel less alone.

She’d wept as she cared for the small creatures, wishing things were different. Wishing she was different.

But now she was back home, with her girls and her family. And a chance to have a real Christmas together.

She swallowed hard, pushing rough emotions aside as she grasped hold of the here and now. “That will be beautiful, Luke.”

He made a face. “My mother’s idea, and I’ve got the animals, so why not let her have her fun?”

“Grandma said I could help,” Aiden added. “But I have to dress warm.”

“Can we help, Mommy? Like we did last year?”

“Yes, can we?”

“We’ll see.” She didn’t dare make promises she might not be able to keep. But if she could, she’d have the girls at that living Nativity, marveling at the simplicity of Christ’s birth.


Chapter Four

Bubble-bath clean, his short curls still damp, Aiden dived into bed, and Luke breathed in his scent. The boy’s innocence took him back to those first years, holding his baby son, so perfect, so awesome. They should have been the quintessential family, Mom, Dad, beautiful baby boy.

What wretchedness had stolen Martha’s self-confidence, or had Luke been fooling himself all along?

Maybe both, he realized as he read Where the Wild Things Are for the tenth time in as many days. And then he did a mine sweep underneath the bed to assure his son that none of Max’s yellow-eyed friends lingered in Aiden’s room.

Luke kissed him good-night, straightened the covers, then paused when Aiden said, “I think this was the very best day of my life, ever! Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome.”

He didn’t have to dissect the boy’s emotions to figure out his meaning. The girls had been regular visitors over the past two years. And he’d gone to the McKinneys’ farm just as often.

The difference today was Rainey. Her warmth, her attitude, her calm acceptance. Her presence turned snack time into a royal event. Her composure helped the kids think anything was possible.

Aiden hadn’t wanted the day to end.

Neither had Luke.

The boy had begged for the girls to stay for supper.

Rainey declined gently, then explained there would be other days to get together soon. And that if Aiden followed directions, she and Luke would make sure it happened often.

Aiden believed her, and that in itself was a step forward. And now he was falling asleep, a happy child, a mood his father longed to sustain.

Sleep was the last thing on Luke’s mind, but his grown-up dreams weren’t made of make-believe. A lawman and father had to see the big picture. Yes, she was beautiful, and no male on the planet could ignore that.

But it wasn’t the superficial that drew him, it was the wounded spirit within her, and that’s what he needed to avoid. Pained souls called to him, like the menagerie of livestock living in his barns.

His phone rang. He glanced at the readout, saw his mother’s number and clicked on it. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“Dad’s taking the boat out tomorrow. The weather’s supposed to be wonderful. He wanted to know if you and Aiden would like to hang out over here.”

“We’d love it.” Luke sank into a wide-backed chair. “What time is good?”

“We’re going to church first, so anytime after eleven.”

“That will give me plenty of time to take care of the animals,” Luke noted. He ignored the church reference. His mother left it alone as well, and that was almost worse than her nagging him.

Jenny Campbell didn’t hassle. She dropped little pearls of wisdom into innocent conversation and then let her children wallow in free will. But she and Dad were always there to pick up the pieces as needed.

That brought Luke back to the whole roots-and-wings thing. “Can I bring company?”

“Of course. Who?”

“Rainey McKinney and I are trying to train our naughty children into better behavior by working together with them. If she and the twins are available, I’d like to bring them along.”

“I’ll throw another chicken in the pot.”

Her comment made him laugh. There was always too much food at the Campbell house on weekends, but nothing ever went to waste. A phone call here or there brought folks over for an impromptu feast, and his mother’s calm but active nature kept it all running like a well-oiled machine. “See you tomorrow.”

Should he call Rainey now? He glanced at the clock, realized it wasn’t too late and dialed the farm.

“McKinney Farms, Piper speaking.”

“Piper, it’s Luke. Is Rainey around?”

She coughed once, a short, odd-sounding cough, then cleared her throat. “Right here, actually. Hang on.”

“Luke?”

“Hey.” He paused to breathe, savoring the way the single syllable of his name rolled off Rainey’s tongue. “My mom just called and invited us out on the lake tomorrow. I was wondering if you and the girls would like to go.”

“Oh, I’d love it.” There was no mistaking the upbeat note in her voice, and that made Luke smile. “But I can’t. I’m working all day tomorrow. After church, that is.”




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