Love Finds a Home

No one at the department had mentioned a child.

Steve had said that Brian Barlow had died six years ago. If this was his son, and the boy had to be, given the striking physical resemblance to Emma, he must have lost his father before he started school.

Something twisted in Jake’s gut when Emma put a protective hand on the boy’s shoulder. He’d gotten used to the suspicious looks cast his way while he worked undercover, hair scraped back in an unkempt ponytail and a gold stud in one earlobe. He’d gotten rid of both after leaving the force, but Emma Barlow’s wary expression still unsettled him. Made him feel like the bad guy.

“Jeremy, this is…Chief Sutton.” Emma’s husky voice stumbled over the words. “Chief Sutton—my son. Jeremy.”

Jake extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The boy hung back, his gaze uncertain. “Where are the flowers?”

The question broadsided Jake. If Emma’s son had expected him to show up with a dozen roses, he obviously hadn’t followed standard protocol.

Okay, God, I thought I was following your orders.

Jake’s silent prayer went up with a huff of frustration. Not at God, but at himself. The trouble was, he’d been a cop longer than he’d been a follower of Jesus, so he wasn’t always sure he was getting the faith stuff right.

Over the past six months, he’d tried to tune in to what some referred to as “a still, small voice” or a “gentle inner nudge.”

His younger brother, Andy, without mentioning names, of course, claimed that if “someone” had a thick skull, God sometimes had to shout to get their attention. And if that “someone” also possessed a thick skin, the “gentle nudge” might feel more like an elbow to the ribs.

Jake had felt that elbow when he’d reached out to steady the vase on the seat beside him at a stop sign on his way to Emma’s. He studied the flowers, as if he’d just been given a piece of evidence, but found nothing unusual about a dozen roses mixed with lacy ferns and a few tufts of those little white flowers he couldn’t remember the name of. The standard arrangement a woman received for Valentine’s Day or an anniversary. To remind her she was loved…

Another jab.

Jake had closed his eyes.

Did a bouquet of red roses honor her husband’s memory? Or was the sight of them one more reminder of everything Emma Barlow had lost?

Jake had turned the squad car around and headed for the florist shop.

Once inside, he’d bypassed the cooler filled with pink and blue carnations, ready and waiting to celebrate the next newborn baby, and dodged a display of vases filled with single-stemmed roses, the grab-and-go kind, best offered with an apology.

His foot had snagged the corner of a wooden pallet, almost pitching him headfirst into the sturdy little tree in the corner.

The clerk explained it had been part of a late-summer shipment that hadn’t sold because most people planted trees in the spring. A mistake.

Jake had seen it as divine intervention.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

“I brought something else this time.”

Jeremy ducked his head and Jake waited, hoping the boy’s natural curiosity would trump his fear.

Jeremy scraped the toe of his tennis shoe against the porch, sloughing off a blister of loose paint. His voice barely broke above a whisper but Jake heard him.

“What is it?”

Emma resisted the urge to echo the question.

“Come on. I’ll show you.” Jake Sutton stepped off the porch and strode toward the squad car. Without asking for her permission, Jeremy bounded after him.

Leaving Emma no choice but to follow.

The police chief opened the back door of the vehicle and pulled out a bucket. Emma blinked.

He had brought something else.

A spindly coat rack of a tree with leaves that looked more like pieces of damp crepe paper glued to the drooping branches.

“What’s that?” Jeremy’s nose wrinkled as he sidled closer.

“This…” Jake anchored the container against one narrow hip and bumped the door shut. “Is an apple tree.”

Jeremy gave it a doubtful look. “I think it’s dead.”

“It’ll be good as new once it’s planted. All it needs is some water and sunlight.” Jake tilted his head. “I was going to offer to dig the hole, but you look strong enough to do it.”

He sounded so certain that Jeremy’s chin rose. “S-sure.”

Before Emma could protest, Jake transferred the bucket to her son’s arms. Jeremy’s shoulders sagged under the weight, but to her astonishment his eyes glowed with pride when he turned to look at her.

“Should I find a place to plant it, Mom?”

Emma nodded, not trusting her voice. Although they lived in the country, her son shunned the rough-and-tumble antics that most boys his age enthusiastically embraced. Emma knew she was partially responsible for that. After Brian’s death, she’d had no choice but to take Jeremy to work with her at the library, where he’d been forced to find quiet things to occupy his time.

By the time he was old enough to pursue some of his own interests, Jeremy had seemed more content to observe things rather than experience them. Emma had been secretly relieved when it looked as if he hadn’t inherited his father’s love of a challenge. Brian’s desire to push the limits had burned like a flame inside him. One that marriage and becoming a father had only tempered, never fully quenched.

Jeremy flashed a shy smile in the man’s direction before trudging away, arms wrapped as tight as insulation around the bucket.

Emma couldn’t get her feet to move. Or her vocal cords.

She didn’t know what to do with an apple tree. Jake Sutton should have brought roses. Never mind that she didn’t like roses… It was what he was supposed to do. And he should be driving away now…not watching her with golden-brown eyes, as calm and measuring as a timber wolf’s.

Those eyes locked with hers and Emma had the uneasy feeling he could read her thoughts. “Do you have a shovel handy?”

Afraid of where the question might lead—possibly to Jake Sutton staying longer?—Emma didn’t respond.

Unfortunately, Jeremy did. “There’s one in the shed,” he called over his shoulder, his mood a whole lot more cheerful than hers.

“Good. You find a spot for the tree while your mother and I round one up.”

Didn’t she have a say in this?

Emma’s hands clenched at her side. “That’s not necessary, Chief…Sutton.” Her mind was still having a difficult time adjusting to the change. Not only in the name but the man himself. “You must be busy. Jeremy and I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

“It’s Jake. And don’t worry about me getting into trouble.” A glint of humor appeared in his eyes. “I’m the boss.”