The Lawman's Nanny Op

Doris scowled. “I never thought I’d have to work. If your father hadn’t left I would be spending my days having lunch with friends and puttering around the house instead of selling cosmetics to snotty teenagers at the local five-and-dime.”

“You only work four days a week. That still leaves you three days to putter around and have lunch with friends,” Portia countered.

Doris didn’t reply, but Portia knew the truth: her mother had chased off all her friends long ago with her negativity.

“Did you hear about them finding Brittany Grayson’s car in the Miller barn?” Portia asked.

“I heard.” Doris shook her head. “Terrible thing. You know that poor girl is probably dead.”

Portia’s heart constricted as she thought of Caleb grieving for his sister. “I hope not.”

“Have you heard any more on the break-in at your place?”

“I spoke to Caleb this morning about it. He mentioned that Dale Stemple just got out of prison. Remember him? I turned him and his wife in for child abuse.”

Doris nodded. “A nasty piece of work, that man was. I always thought he probably beat up on Rita, too. She acted like she was half-scared to move or talk whenever I saw her.”

“Of course we have no idea if Dale is even back in town or not,” Portia replied.

“I’m sure Caleb has other things on his mind with his sister’s car being found,” Doris replied with a knowing gaze. “But the way I remember it you were always on a back burner when it came to Caleb Grayson. He’s just like your daddy. Loves the women.”

“Mom, please, that was all a long time ago. Why don’t we talk about something a little more pleasant?” Portia exclaimed. The last thing she wanted to do was rehash Caleb’s betrayal of so long ago.

For the rest of the meal they talked about the kids in Portia’s day care, local gossip and the winter months that weren’t so very far away.

After eating, Portia helped her mother clear and wash the dishes. “You aren’t leaving right away, are you?” Doris asked when the dishes were finished. “I thought I’d fix some coffee and you could maybe help me on my newest puzzle.”

Although the last thing Portia wanted to do was spend another hour or so working on a jigsaw puzzle with her mother, she agreed. In truth, Portia felt sorry for her mother, who spent her evenings working puzzles and hating the man who had left her so long ago.

There had been no secrets in the Perez family. Doris had shared with her daughter at a very early age that her father, Pete, had not been faithful. There was a part of Portia that resented that her mother had made her party to adult issues when she should have been a carefree, happy child.

She remembered her father as a big, affable man with a booming laugh and big, strong arms. When she’d been young she hadn’t understood why when he’d left her mother, he’d also left her. As an adult she suspected that her father had been unable to sustain a relationship with Portia because that would have meant he’d have had to deal with his ex-wife.

He’d paid child support every month until Portia turned eighteen, and to this day Portia wondered if she would ever see him again.

It was almost ten and dark outside when her mother walked her out on the porch to tell her goodbye. Portia hugged her mother and wished things could have been different for her, wished that Doris had found some sort of happiness in her life, but she’d clung to her bitterness like it was a warm familiar lover and had refused to let it go.

“I’ll call you tomorrow night,” Portia said as she headed to her car.

It was a beautiful night. The temperature had dropped to a pleasant level and as Portia started her car she rolled down the windows for the drive home.

The road she travelled between her mother’s house and her own was a narrow two-lane stretch of highway that was rarely used and lined with thick-trunked old trees.

The night air drifted through the window and caressed her face. She turned the radio on and tuned it to her favorite oldies station.

Portia hadn’t gone far when she noticed the headlights of another vehicle approaching quickly behind her. Irritation surged up inside her as the truck drew close and its brights shimmered in her rearview mirror.

“Jerk,” she muttered and flipped the mirror up to diminish the blinding glare. “Dim your lights.”

Before she had her hand firmly back on the steering wheel she felt a jarring bang. “Hey!” she cried as she realized she’d been hit from behind.

She started to brake, assuming that it had been an accident, but before she could she was hit again, this time with enough force to wrest the steering wheel out of her hands.

A single moment of panic soared through her as she realized her car was out of control and one of those beautiful, big oak trees was directly in front of her.

She heard the impact just before her head snapped forward and made contact with the steering wheel and darkness sprang up to grab her.

Caleb had just shucked his jeans to go to bed when his cell phone rang. It was the deputy on duty, Sam McCain. “What’s up, Sam?” Caleb asked.

“I just got a call from Gus Swanson. He and his wife were driving down Old Pike Highway and found Portia Perez’s car wrecked and her unconscious. They’re near Doris’s place and I’ve called for an ambulance, but thought you might want to know.”

Sam had barely gotten the words out of his mouth before Caleb hung up. He grabbed his jeans and pulled them back on, his heart thundering with urgency.

He snatched his car keys and was on the road within seconds. Unconscious: that didn’t sound good. What had happened? He knew that stretch of highway was narrow, but Portia had driven it enough times to know it like the back of her hand.

So, what had happened? How had she wrecked? And how badly was she hurt? He squeezed the steering wheel tightly and stepped on the gas, unable to get to the scene fast enough.

No matter what their past, Portia had never moved far out of his heart. Even the love he’d thought he’d had for Laura hadn’t rivaled what he’d once felt for Portia.

As always, thoughts of Laura created a hot ball of anger in his chest. What she’d done to him was unforgivable and even though it had been a little over a year ago, the rage he felt toward her hadn’t diminished.

But he couldn’t think about that now. He had to get to Portia.

His heart nearly stopped as he rounded a curve and came upon the scene. The front end of Portia’s red car was smashed against a tree trunk.

Gus Swanson and his wife, Martha, stood next to the car and Portia was prone on the ground next to them. A sigh of relief escaped Caleb as he saw Portia raise a hand to her head. At least she was conscious now.