Mary Ryken’s eyebrow lifted, but the expression on her face had fallen into disappointment. “You’re in law enforcement.”
“Yes, ma’am. A deputy.” Nick drained his glass of milk. Mary had offered him cookies until he’d stuffed himself.
“My husband worked for the same but was killed on duty.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry for your loss.” He’d looked it up. It was what made her a good choice. Mary understood a cop’s life. She’d lived it. She’d understand if his shift ran late.
Her eyes grew stern. “Don’t let it happen to you. That boy needs you.”
Nick nodded. It was why he was here. Why he’d transferred out of undercover work. “I don’t plan on it.”
“No one ever plans on it, but it happens. And it happens to the best of them.” Mary’s tone hardened.
He waited for her to pass on watching Corey but she didn’t say a word, only looked at him expectantly.
“The job’s yours if you want it.”
“I do.” She smiled. “And weekends are no trouble. I’m a homebody on weekends, and Corey can go with me to church if that’s okay with you. Our church has a good children’s program.”
“That would be great. We need to find one anyway.” He wanted to get back in the habit of going when he wasn’t working. It’d been a long time. A dry time.
Again Nick glanced out of the large windows. Beth and Corey had finished filling the birdfeeders and sat on a wooden swing together. Corey laughed at something Beth said. His son looked like what a seven-year-old should look like. Carefree.
Since he’d taken Corey back from his grandparents, the boy acted so careful, careful in what he did and said—if he said anything. Nick had learned to accept shrugs as their primary mode of communication. His boy had a lot to say to Miss Ryken.
Mary glanced at the clock.
Nick followed her gaze. It was closing in on four-thirty. Time to leave.
Mary smiled. “Why don’t you and Corey stay for dinner?”
That surprised him, but then it didn’t. If Mary Ryken cooked half as well as she baked, they were in for a real treat. He’d like to see how Corey responded to her. “Thank you, Mrs. Ryken. I appreciate your offer. We’ll stay.”
The woman stood. “Good, and please call me Mary.”
“What can I do to help?” He also got to his feet.
“Not a thing.” She waved him away and then stepped out of the sliding glass door. “Beth, why don’t you show Nick around since Corey will be coming here after school. And, Corey, would you like to help me in the kitchen?”
Nick gave Mary a double take. She’d turned down his help.
As if sensing his confusion, Mary explained, “I might as well get to know the boy a little better, and you’ll want to make sure everything is secure for him here. Beth will show you.”
“Oh. Yeah, thanks.” For a minute there, Nick thought she was throwing him and her daughter together.
Corey raced into the kitchen. “Really, I get to come here after school?”
Nick folded his arms. “That okay with you?”
His son nodded.
Nick remembered Corey’s comment about Beth reminding him of his mom. Of Nick’s wife. Was that why his son wanted to come here? To recapture a feeling of home and what he’d lost?
“Corey, why don’t you wash your hands in the bathroom around the corner and then come back and I’ll tell you what I need you to do.” Mary had a nice way of issuing orders.
“Yes, ma’am.” Corey had a nice way of following them, and he slipped out of sight.
Nick’s sense of ease at this choice hit a speed bump when Beth walked into the kitchen. Seeing her regularly might be a problem. He couldn’t muddy the waters of his life with an ill-timed relationship. Not when he needed to rebuild his relationship with Corey.
He sure could use a friend, though, and she was Corey’s teacher. Keeping it friendly presented a unique challenge considering his track record. But it was only a couple of months until school was done. He’d figure out somewhere else for Corey to spend his days during the summer months because Mary worked in the mornings.
Surely he’d survive the next two months. They’d all survive.
Beth stood before him. “I’ll give you the tour.”
“We’re staying for dinner.” He watched her reaction closely.
“Mom always makes more than enough.” She gave him another sunny smile.
“Do you mind?” They’d invaded her space.
“Not at all. Come on. We can chat about Corey.”
Nick blanched at the serious teacher look on Beth Ryken’s face. He got the feeling that she’d found something wrong with his boy and he was going to hear about it. “Lead the way.”
It didn’t take long to walk through the downstairs. Each room looked crowded with wall hangings and books and knickknacks. Beth’s mom had collected a lot of stuff over the years, and that stuff seemed to pop up in odd spots like her flowers outside.
“There’s a bathroom and two bedrooms upstairs. Just so you know, my father was in law enforcement and we have his firearms. But they’re locked in a safe upstairs.”
“No problem.” Nick had guns at home, too, locked up where Corey couldn’t get at them.
Someday he’d teach his son how to use and respect them. He’d start off with the BB gun his father had given Nick when he was Corey’s age. Keeping that gun had been one of many disagreements between him and Susan. She didn’t want their boy following in his father’s footsteps.
Nick stepped outside with Beth. The day had grown warm enough to forego jackets. The backyard was surrounded by a tall wooden fence. Huge trees grew along the other side and their branches shaded part of the yard, lending more privacy.
One of Mary’s more organized flower beds had been set up in the corner, complete with statues and greens poking up through the soil. The yard felt secluded, winsome even, as if he might find a secret passageway to some imaginary land, if a person was given to that kind of fancy. He wasn’t.
He glanced at Beth. “You wanted to talk about Corey?”
She nodded and headed for the swing she’d occupied with his son earlier. “Maybe we should sit down.”
He swallowed hard. “Okay....”
Whatever she had to say wasn’t going to be good. It hadn’t been good at Corey’s previous school, either. The social worker there had said Corey displayed antisocial behavior. What was so antisocial about being quiet? Corey had been withdrawn, but Nick couldn’t blame the kid. He’d lost his mom, and that school worried about how often he colored with a black crayon!
He waited for her to get comfortable before settling himself next to her, taking care to keep space between them. That pretty skirt she wore draped across her knees and swayed against her long legs, which were bare. Her feet were, too.
“What can you tell me about Corey’s education?”
He gathered his wandering thoughts. “What do you want to know?”
“Corey said his grandmother was his teacher?”
Nick nodded. “For a little bit. Corey lived with his grandparents the last six months before we moved here. His grandmother pulled him out of school after Christmas break. She homeschooled him. Why?”
“Why