More information gathering?
Leo played nearby, some engrossing five-year-old game involving rocks and a lot of shouting. Kid needed a playmate. They should invite the pastor’s little girls up here.
Except thinking of the widowed pastor hanging around Kayla rubbed him the wrong way.
And why should any of that matter to him? Impatient with himself, he got down on the ground and started pulling up the weeds that were getting out of control around the foundation of his place, like everywhere else on the ranch. Kayla wasn’t his concern. She was here on a temporary pass. And even if they did give her the full-time job—which he still questioned—he didn’t need to get involved in how she ran her life and raised her kid.
Penny stood and waved to him. “I’ll be inside, doing some paperwork, if anybody needs me,” she called.
He stood, gave her a thumbs-up and watched her walk inside. That was how they ran the place, spelling each other, letting each other know what they were doing. It’d be quiet on a Sunday, but they liked for at least one of them to be on call, phone on, ready to help as needed.
From the garden area just behind him, he heard a thump, a wail—“Mommy!”—and then the sound of crying. Leo. Finn spun and went to the boy, who was kneeling on the ground where Finn had been digging. His hand was bleeding and his face wet with tears.
Finn beckoned to Kayla, who’d jumped up from the picnic table, and then knelt awkwardly beside the little boy. “Hey, son, what happened?”
Leo cringed away, his eyebrows drawing together, and cried harder.
“Leo!” Kayla arrived, sank down and drew Leo into her arms. “Oh, no, honey, what happened?”
“It hurts!” Leo clutched his bloody hand to his chest.
“Let me see.”
The little boy held up his hand to show her, but the sight of it made him wail louder. “I’m bleeding!”
Kayla leaned in and examined the wound, and Finn did, too. Fortunately, it didn’t look too serious. The bleeding was already stopping. “Looks like he might have cut it on the weed digger. Is that what happened, buddy?”
The boy nodded, still gulping and gasping.
“I have bandages and antibiotic cream inside, if you want to bring him in.” He knew better than to offer to carry the boy. Only a mother would do at a time like this.
Kayla got to her feet and swung Leo up into her arms. “Come on. Let’s fix you up.”
There was a buzzing sound, and Finn felt for his phone.
“It’s mine,” Kayla said. “I’ll get it later.”
“You can sit in there.” Finn indicated the kitchen. “I’ll grab the stuff.”
Moments later, he was back downstairs with every size of Band-Aid in his cupboard and three different types of medical ointment.
Kayla had Leo sitting on the edge of the sink and was rinsing his hand.
Leo howled like he was being tortured.
“I know, honey, it hurts, but we have to clean it. There. Now it’ll start feeling better.” She wrapped a paper towel around the boy’s hand and lifted him easily from the sink to a kitchen chair.
She’d been right. She was stronger than she looked, because Leo wasn’t small.
“Let’s see,” Finn said, giving the little boy a reassuring smile.
Leo shrank away and held his hand against his chest.
“I won’t touch it. I just want to look.” To Kayla he added, “I have first-aid training from the service. But it’s probably fine. Your call.”
“Let Mr. Finn look, honey. Let’s count one-two-three and then do the hard thing. Ready?”
Leo looked up, leaned into her and nodded. “Okay.”
Together, they counted. “One, two, three.” And then Leo squeezed his eyes shut and held out his hand.
Finn studied the small hand, the superficial cut across two fingers. He opened his mouth to reassure Kayla and Leo.
And then memory crashed in.
He’d put a Band-Aid on Derek’s hand, not long before the accident. He’d cuddled the boy to his chest as he held the little hand—just like Leo’s—in his own larger one. Carefully squeezed the antibiotic on the small scrape, added a superhero Band-Aid and wiped his son’s tears.
“It looks fine,” he said to Kayla through a suddenly tight throat. “You go ahead and dress it.” He shoved the materials at her, limped over to the window and looked out, trying to compose himself.
Normally, he kept a lid on his emotions about his son. Especially his son. Deirdre, yes, he grieved losing her, but she was an adult and she’d made a lot of bad choices that had contributed to her death.
His son had been an innocent victim.
“There. All fixed!” Kayla’s voice was perky and upbeat. “You keep that Band-Aid on, now. Don’t go showing that cut to your friends. It’s a big one.”
“It is big,” Leo said, his voice steadying. “I was brave, wasn’t I, Mommy?”
Finn turned back in time to see her hug him. “You were super brave. Good job.”
Leo came over to Finn and, from a safe distance, held up his hand. “See? It was a really big cut!”
“It sure was,” Finn said and then cleared the roughness out of his throat. “Sorry I don’t have any fun Band-Aids. Not many kids come around here.”
And there was a good reason for that. Having little boys around would tear him apart.
Change the subject. “You want to watch TV for a few minutes, buddy? I need to talk to your mom.”
Leo’s head jerked around to look at Kayla. “Can I, Mom?”
She hesitated. “I guess, for a few minutes. If we can find a decent show.” She looked at Finn pointedly. “I actually don’t allow him to watch much TV.”
“Sorry.” He headed into the living room and clicked the TV on, found a cartoonish-looking show that he remembered his son liking and looked at Kayla. “This okay?”
She squinted at the TV. “Yeah. Sure.”
Her phone buzzed again, but she ignored it.
In the kitchen, she looked at him with two vertical lines between her eyebrows. “What’s up?”
“Why’d you grill Long John about me?” he asked her abruptly.
* * *
At the sharp question from Finn, Kayla’s mind reeled. “What do you mean?” she asked, buying time.
She knew exactly what he meant.
Long John must have gotten on the phone the moment she’d left his cabin. And wasn’t that just like a soldier, to report anything and everything to his military buddies.
They’re friends, an inner voice reminded her. She’d just met Long John, while Finn had probably known him for months if not years.
Finn let out a sigh. “Long John let me know you were asking all kinds of questions about me. I wondered why.”
She studied him for signs of out-of-control anger and saw none. In which case, the best defense was a good offense. “You have a problem with me checking my employer’s references the same way you and Penny are checking mine?” she bluffed.
He looked at her for a moment. “No. That’s not a problem. It’s just that some of your