Copper Lake Encounter Read online

  But she’d also said, Who gave you the right to limit my choices?

  Ty shook his head. If it were any other woman in the world, he would at least consider the possibility that he was being used. Kiki knew how to manipulate a guy. Certainly some of the other women he’d dated knew. But not Nev. She was too honest. Too...special.

  Wearing a sardonic smile, Kiki said to Benton, “Doesn’t look like he’s buying it, does it? Okay, Ty, it’s just a theory. We’re still gonna find that other maid and talk to her. Maybe her kid really is sick, in which case she’d better keep it away from me, or maybe it was an easy excuse to get away from the motel when the police are called. Either way, I’ll let you know what we find out.”

  * * *

  Nev had found Sophy in the shop, trying unsuccessfully to concentrate on a quilt she was piecing while also keeping an eye on the two girls. She’d seemed glad to see Nev, and the girls, even Dahlia, had been pleased by the flowers.

  “We never have real flowers at home,” Daisy had said before her sister elbowed her. Defiantly she tossed her head. “Well, we don’t!”

  Sophy had put away her piecing and gotten out bundles of squares and angles in a rainbow of colors and patterns, and the four of them had spread out at one of the large worktables to try their hand at sample blocks. Daisy’s were haphazard, colors clashing enough to blind a person and pieces that didn’t fit, but Dahlia showed a talent for it. Even after ninety minutes, she was still engrossed in creating patterns.

  “One of these days I’m going to learn to quilt,” Nev said as she began stacking her pieces neatly.

  “If you’re near Copper Lake at the time, I’d be happy to teach you.”

  Near Copper Lake. YaYa thought it possible. Anamaria thought it likely. Who knew? Maybe...

  “Have you always lived here?” she asked.

  Sophy shook her head. “I was born in North Carolina. When our mother lost custody of us, I was adopted and wound up here.”

  “What does custody mean?” Dahlia demanded.

  After a hesitation, Sophy carefully said, “It means who’s taking care of you. Right now you’re in my custody. That means I give you food, clothes, a place to sleep and keep you safe.”

  Dahlia was scornful. “That’s what our mama does, so we don’t need you.”

  Nev exchanged glances with Sophy, her heart aching just a little at the look on the other woman’s face. Someplace inside, Sophy must be tempted to point out that if their mama had been doing that, she probably wouldn’t be in jail and likely to stay there a long time. Sophy wanted so much to give them the attention and affection and care that they’d probably never had, but they were as likely to break her heart as appreciate it.

  When Dahlia went back to her piecing and Daisy wandered off to gaze at a stuffed bear atop a display of baby fabrics, Nev casually said, “I went for a walk along the river and saw this tree, half in the water, half out. It looks a little scary and a little majestic and so permanent, like even dying can’t kill it. Do you know where I mean? North of the park a ways?”

  Her brow wrinkled, Sophy shook her head. “I have to admit, I’m not a real athletic person. I’ve been to the riverside park, of course, but I don’t think I’ve ever followed the trail. If there’s anything you want to know about it, I can find out. My friend, Kiki, runs that trail sometimes, so she probably knows it.”

  “Oh, no, I just think it’s a really striking tree,” Nev said hastily, while thinking inside, First Ty and Kiki, now Sophy and Kiki. What do they see in the woman that I don’t?

  Standing, Sophy stretched and then gestured toward the corner of the room where a coffeepot and a small refrigerator sat. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, pop?”

  “I would.” Nev followed her to the corner and took a bottle of water from the fridge. “You doing okay?” It seemed odd to ask a question that was usually part of a greeting nearly two hours later, but this was the first time they’d been out of earshot of the girls.

  A grimace, a shrug, a smile. “I wonder if my sisters, my brother and I were this bad when we first went into foster care.”

  “Did you all get adopted by the same family?”

  “No. In fact, we didn’t see each other for twenty years. My oldest sister located the three of us and we got together around Christmas.”

  “What a wonderful gift.” Again, Nev found herself wishing for a better relationship with her own sister. She’d had a father and still had a grandmother who loved her dearly. Shouldn’t she be satisfied with that? It was so much more than some people got.

  After sweetening her coffee, Sophy took a sip, and then her gaze returned to the girls. “School starts in another week. I took the girls this morning to get them registered. It was a big surprise to Dahlia, since their mother never bothered enrolling her last year.”

  “I hope they have electronic locks on the doors.” Sophy had told her about Dahlia’s attempt to flee when they left the house that morning.

  “They do to keep people out. I guess it’s up to the teachers to keep the kids in.”

  “How’s their mother doing?”

  Another grimace and shrug. “I always felt sorry for Maggie because the odds were stacked against her from the start. But this isn’t the first time she’s lost the kids. Even when she gets cleaned up from time to time, she still doesn’t take care of them. No manners, no discipline, no teaching...Children deserve better than that.”

  Nev was reaching out when her cell phone rang. She excused herself and stepped off to the side. “Hello.”

  “Hey. I’m leaving here. I’ll be out front in two minutes.”

  “Oh, am I allowed to drive by myself now?”

  “Only to the grocery store and Granddad’s house, and I’ll be right in front of you.”

  Though she wanted to be like Marieka, independent and strong and taking care of herself, Ty’s concern washed over her with comforting warmth. “I’ll be ready.”

  Returning to Sophy, she clasped her hand. “You have a good heart. If they’re lucky, these girls will come to see that. If they don’t...you know you tried.”

  “Thanks, Nev. I need to keep reminding myself of that.” Sophy breathed deeply and then managed a full, sincere smile. “Have fun with Ty tonight.”

  “How did you— Never mind. The people in this town of yours sure are well-informed.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and then returned to the table. “Girls, I’ve got to go. I had fun with you this afternoon. Miss Dahlia, I bow to your eye for color. Your quilt squares were beautiful.”

  Daisy popped up from under the table on the other side. “Was mine beautiful, too?”

  “They were, Miss Daisy. You three girls have a good evening.”

  She gave a wave over her shoulder as she walked through the aisles, beautiful fabrics brushing her arms. The old-fashioned bell above the door dinged when she opened it, again when she closed it. Ty’s pickup was pulled to the curb ahead of hers, the engine idling. He stood beside it, dark glasses hiding his eyes, pistol resting on his hip, badge clipped to his belt. Lord, he was imposing. Women in Copper Lake were accustomed to his handsomeness, but if he was a cop in Atlanta, women would be pulling him over just to flirt with him. What was a speeding ticket in exchange for his name, his smile and his attention?

  As she reached the curb, she checked traffic and both cars stopped, the drivers waving her across. She smiled at each one and mouthed the words thank you with her own wave. When she’d reached the other side and the men had driven on, she said, “That was pretty slick. I didn’t even see you signal them to stop.”

  “You think I did that?” He met her at the car. “Their signal to stop was you standing on the curb. I don’t believe there’s a man in town who won’t take a minute out of his busy day to appreciate a pretty woman.”

  She wasn’t s
ure about the pretty part, but he was right. She hadn’t met anyone in town who wasn’t at least polite, and most of them were downright friendly and welcoming. Except for Kiki. And whoever had broken into her room. Even the Holigan boys were probably pretty nice kids once they’d put the shaving cream down.

  Heat radiated from the car when she opened the door, matching the air around them. She slid in, wiggling a bit on the seat as the leather transferred the warmth through her skirt.

  “Just follow me.” Ty gave her a wink, closed the door and headed back to his truck with long strides.

  “Anywhere,” she whispered. Lord, just like those men, she was a sucker for a pretty face.

  The grocery store was six blocks away, filling an entire block that separated commercial from residential. She’d already chosen a menu and had an ingredients list ready in her purse, so the shopping was quick and painless. Another short drive, and she was turning on Easy Street, parking in Mr. Obadiah’s driveway while Ty went down to his own house.

  The rocking chair creaked as his granddad stood and walked to the edge of the porch. “I’d offer you my help, but by the time I get my cane from the house, you’re gonna already be up here.”

  “Don’t you worry about that, Mr. Obadiah. All I need is your help eating what I’m fixing tonight.”

  “I surely can do that,” he said with a laugh. He held the door open and then followed her into the house. “And the thing about me forgetting my cane...let’s keep that just between us, can we? My boy threatens to drill a hole in it and handcuff it to my wrist so I always have it. Truth is, sometimes I just don’t want it.”

  She set the bags on the counter and then patted his hand. “I understand. YaYa says when the time comes that she needs a cane, she’s getting one of those scooters instead so she can zoom around terrorizing everyone.”

  “Maybe I should look into one of them. I like driving, but Ty sure does fuss about me getting in that big ol’ car of mine.”

  Nev hid a shudder at the idea. Barge was an accurate description of the Mercury parked outside. Mr. Obadiah would seem even smaller and more fragile in the driver’s seat of the parade float-size car, and considering how he squinted to see even with his glasses...

  In the time it took Ty to let Frank out, change clothes and return, she had unpacked the shopping bags, washed up and begun cutting sausage and chicken breasts into bite-size pieces. Mr. Obadiah was slicing and dicing onions, bell peppers and celery, and oil was heating in a large pot on the stove.

  Ty was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. She liked the shirt with his college logo, snug and threadbare, but for a moment she longed for the days—only on television in her lifetime—when men’s shorts had shown a lot more leg. His calves looked pretty darn good, but she’d like a glimpse of his thighs, too. Rippling quadriceps, hard as rock...

  “What are we having for dinner?” Ty had positioned himself out of the way and stolen a few chunks of bell pepper to munch on.

  It took her a moment to lift her thoughts from his muscles to the food spread out in front of her and another moment for her knife to steady. “Jambalaya and corn bread. My daddy’s people came from Louisiana, and we still cook a lot of the dishes they brought with them.”

  “I love Louisiana. Beautiful, hot, sultry...”

  A bit of a rasp roughened his voice as he gave her a slow, wicked smile that just about made her feel faint. Between them, they fit all three adjectives. He was beautiful and hot, and she was feeling pretty darn sultry.

  Slowly his gaze shifted from her to his grandfather. She felt the instant it left her: the heat burning from the inside out tempered; her hands stopped shaking; the tightness in her chest loosened enough to allow her a deep breath. She could fall for this man so easily.

  Silently she scoffed. She had already fallen for this man. It had started practically the first time he’d smiled at her, and it was going to last long after this trip was over.

  As Ty and Mr. Obadiah talked, she reflected on how good it felt to be in the kitchen, cooking for people she liked very much. It wasn’t the fashion for women her age to aspire to be the wife of old—homemaker, washer of clothes and dishes, chef, maid and chauffeur—but that was the life she wanted. Working was fine; she was okay with that. But when she finished the day, she wanted to cook in her own kitchen for her own family. She wanted to make sure her husband’s and the kids’ clothes were ready for the next day. She wanted to bake and clean and put on a big ol’ floppy sun hat and plant flowers and tomatoes and okra while her husband mowed the grass and the kids played with the dog.

  That life would make her happy. If women had the right to choose career over family, then certainly she had the right to choose family over career.

  The jambalaya came together beautifully, filling the kitchen with the fragrant spices of the sausage, plus the garlic and paprika she added to the pan. The meats and veggies sizzled, turning red from the healthy dose of paprika, and her mouth began to water as she peeled the shrimp that went in last, along with the green onions Mr. Obadiah had chopped.

  Little more than an hour after they’d started, they sat down at the dining table, bowed their heads to pray and then dug into the dish passed down from her three-greats-grandmother.

  “A woman who cooks like this should be running a restaurant and making hordes of people happy,” Ty said when he’d finished his second serving.

  His compliment pleased her more than it should. Lord, she’d been getting compliments for her cooking about as long as Marieka had been getting them for her beauty. But this was the first one from Ty. “How do you know that’s not the only dish I know how to make?”

  He snorted.

  Mr. Obadiah cuffed him playfully on the arm. “I didn’t raise my kids to make pig noises at the dinner table. But he’s right, Nevaeh. You got the touch. You’re gonna make hordes of family happy once you settle down and get yourself married.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Obadiah. You’re a pretty darn good cook yourself.”

  “Hey, what about me?” Ty protested. “I can cook.”

  “I’ve seen no evidence of that.” She wagged a finger at him. “In fact, when I was last in your kitchen, there were big holes where the sink and the stove should be.”

  His granddad grinned at him. “She’s right, son.” He tipped his head back and breathed deeply. “That bread pudding sure smells good, but I’m gonna have to let my supper settle. Why don’t you two get outta here while I clean up the kitchen?”

  Nev started to protest—surely now that she’d cooked in his kitchen, it was okay for her to help clean—but before she could speak, Ty was pulling her out of her chair. “Sounds like a great idea. We’ll be back before that bread pudding cools.”

  Her daddy and YaYa had raised her to be a good, sensible woman, so she did the good, sensible thing.

  She went with Ty.

  * * *

  Ty followed Nev into the living room, but she didn’t head for a chair or a sofa. Instead, she looked around and then stopped in front of the window. He went to stand behind her. It had gotten darker while they were in the kitchen, the setting sun obscured by heavy clouds. Only a few golden rays escaped, reminding Ty of pictures of angels in his grandmother’s old Bible.

  “Looks like a storm.” He had a talent for stating the obvious, it seemed.

  “Rain would be nice. I’ve always loved rain.”

  When she turned to look at him, he caught whiffs of perfume, the spices from dinner, the sweet scents from dessert. Food held an important place in the Gadney family; every meeting, every holiday, every family reunion revolved around it. Even church services ended in meals or invitations to share them more often than not. Was it any wonder he associated the aromas with family, home, love?

  “Any news about what happened at the motel?” she asked as she turned to back to the window.

 
; Ty didn’t want to worry her, but he wouldn’t lie, either. “Nothing worth telling except...Kiki’s considering the possibility that you did it yourself.”

  Eyes widening, lips parting, she looked at him again. “Myself? Why in the world would I do something like that?”

  “You wouldn’t. But a good cop has to consider everything. “

  “And she’s a good cop?”

  His hesitation lasted a moment too long for him to be totally convincing. “Yeah, she is.” Most of the time. With oversight. “Don’t worry, Nev. She’ll keep me up-to-date, and the lieutenant reviews everything we do. If she needs it, he’ll rein her in.”

  “That’s very reassuring.” She hugged her middle, pulling the fabric of her dress across her breasts. Damn, he loved curves. “Could we go for a walk?”

  “You might get wet.”

  A smile flashed across her face but didn’t reach her eyes. “I told you, I love rain.”

  “Do you want to take an umbrella just in case?”

  Her smile was teasing, more natural than the last. “You own an umbrella? I’m surprised at you, Ty.”

  “No, I don’t own one. I’d rather get wet. But we could borrow Granddad’s.”

  “No, thanks. As long as you don’t mind seeing my hair revert to its natural state...”

  He wondered what that was. Definitely a whole lot less restrained than the straightened version. It was pretty the way it was, all sleek and smooth, but it was also a bit intimidating. When his mother had straightened hers, she’d called it her helmet hair, and the image had taken root in his young mind.

  “I’d be happy to see all of you in your natural state,” he said as they walked out the front door. He liked the look that crossed her face—pleasure not quite tamped down by sweet modesty. “I like my hair the way it is.”

  “You don’t have any,” she pointed out.

  “I have it. I just keep it very, very short.”

  She snorted, and he mimicked Granddad. “No pig noises.”

  “We’re not at the dinner table.”