Where Love Abides (Heartland Homecoming) Read online

“Of course you’ll stay. Marge makes excellent coffee. And we have chocolate donuts today. My personal favorite.”

  “I appreciate the invitation, but…”

  “Ms. Christine!”

  The group turned en masse as Jenna’s excited voice carried over the crowd congregating at the base of the steps below the church door. Arlene held her hand on one side, Dale on the other as they prepared to descend. But it was a Dale Christine had never seen before.

  Gone was the intimidating official uniform. In its place was a dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders. A maroon and midnight-blue tie lay against a snowy white shirt, and gold cuff links gleamed at his wrists. He looked…fabulous. And very, very appealing. For the first time in their acquaintance, she noticed the man instead of the badge.

  If Christine was stunned, Dale was no less surprised. The last person he’d expected to see in church was the antisocial organic farmer, who went out of her way to avoid mingling with the locals.

  And she looked…different today. Instead of her customary jeans and work shirts, she wore a sleek black skirt that showed off enough leg to send his blood pressure up a few notches. A wide belt nipped in a supple silk blouse at her small waist, and her hair lay soft and loose against her shoulders, the red highlights sparking in the sun. The flat gold necklace that dipped just below the round neckline of her blouse glittered in the morning light with each breath she drew.

  As for his own breath—she’d taken it away. He’d told Jenna once that the mystery lady was pretty, but he’d lied. She was flat-out gorgeous.

  “Dale?”

  His mother interrupted his appreciative perusal, and he dragged his attention away from Christine.

  “It’s not polite to stare.” The twinkle in her eyes took the criticism out of her words. “And we’re holding up the crowd.”

  A hot flush crept up the back of his neck and he continued down the steps without a word.

  “Daddy, aren’t we going to say hi to Ms. Christine?” Jenna inquired when he headed toward the entrance to the church hall.

  “Of course we are. It wouldn’t be polite not to.” Arlene took Jenna’s hand in a firmer grip and switched directions.

  Dale found himself being pulled along.

  “It’s nice to see you, Christine,” Arlene greeted her with a warm smile. “I was telling Dale this morning how much we enjoy story hour. You’ve made it so much fun, I don’t know who looks forward to it more—me or Jenna.”

  Trying to ignore the tall man holding Jenna’s other hand, Christine focused on his mother. Except for Dale’s one visit, Arlene always brought Jenna to the library for the weekly story hour. And she never left without saying a few pleasant words to Christine. Her own mother would have liked Arlene, Christine reflected. The women shared a natural empathy and sincerity that drew people in. If Arlene wasn’t the sheriff’s mother, Christine would have enjoyed getting to know her better.

  “I understand it’s quite a hit,” Marge chimed in.

  “Maybe I should come and check it out,” Cara remarked, reaching for Sam’s hand. There was an undercurrent of excitement in her voice. “One never knows when one will need a story hour.”

  A few beats of silence ticked by as a slow smile tugged at Marge’s lips. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

  As Sam drew Cara close, tucking her beside him, she grinned. “Yep. We just found out for sure. In seven months, give or take a week or two, Oak Hill will have a brand-new citizen.”

  “Now isn’t this grand news!” Marge engulfed Cara in a bear hug as congratulations sounded all around. Christine added her own best wishes, quickly stepping back as a wistful melancholy tightened her throat. Her own dreams of motherhood had been as elusive as the wood sprites who peopled some of the books she read to the children.

  She blinked back the sudden moisture that clouded her vision, but not fast enough. Dale, too, stood a bit apart from the group clustered around Cara, one hand in the pocket of his slacks, and he was watching her. His blue eyes deepened in color, delving, as if he was trying to get a handle on the woman he’d termed “the mystery lady.”

  Anxious to escape his intent gaze, Christine dropped down to Jenna’s level and smiled at the little girl. “You look very pretty today, Jenna.”

  “Thank you.” The compliment brought a sunny smile to her lips. Then she edged closer and gave Christine a puzzled look. “Why is everybody so happy?”

  “Because Dr. Martin’s wife is going to have a baby.”

  “I like babies.” Her face lit up. “Do you think she might let me hold it?”

  “I think she might.”

  “Do you like babies, Ms. Christine?”

  What was that old saying about jumping from the frying pan into the fire? She’d leapt in feetfirst. “Yes.”

  “Have you ever had a baby, Ms. Christine?”

  “No, honey.” The answer came out in a hoarse whisper.

  “Would you like to have one?”

  “Jenna, it’s time to go in for donuts.” Dale moved beside his daughter, resting his hands on her shoulders.

  He had nice hands, Christine reflected, afraid to lift her head in case her eyes reflected the desolation in her heart. Instead, she studied the lean, strong fingers that looked competent for any task he might undertake. Holding his own against an attacking lawbreaker. Opening a locked toolshed door. Tucking in a little girl. Caressing a woman.

  Jolted by that unbidden thought, Christine felt warm color steal over cheeks. Where had that come from? She didn’t have any interest in Dale Lewis in that way. Nor in any man. Been there, done that. She wasn’t about to risk repeating her mistake.

  But she was curious about him. Since he wore no ring, she assumed he hadn’t remarried. And what had happened to his wife? Had Christine mingled with the locals a bit more, she’d have found out his story by now, she was sure. Being out of the loop was one of the downsides to her chosen lifestyle.

  “Are you coming for donuts, too, Ms. Christine?” Jenna inquired.

  Standing, Christine started to shake her head as Marge answered the question. “Of course she is. We have a baby to celebrate.” Tucking her arm in Christine’s, she led the way toward the entrance to the hall.

  Taken aback, Christine saw no recourse except to follow. But she didn’t have to stay long, she consoled herself. After one quick cup of coffee, she could escape. In the meantime, however, she might have an opportunity to quiz Marge a bit about the sheriff. A couple of discreet questions, that was all. Motivated by simple curiosity, nothing more.

  Luck—or fate—was on her side. As they stepped into the hall, Marge drew her off to one side, leaving the others to descend on the long table where the coffee and donuts were being served.

  “I have to help serve or my name will be mud, but would you mind doing me a big favor?” Marge waved at the women behind the table and held up her index finger, signaling she’d be over in a minute.

  “Sure. If I can.”

  “I was going to call you about this later today, so it seems providential that you came to services. I’m in the ladies auxiliary here at church, and somehow I got roped into putting together a speaker’s series for this year. Thank goodness, the year’s almost up.

  “Anyway, my speaker for November bailed on me yesterday. As I was considering replacements, it occurred to me that people would be interested in a talk on organic farming, what with the popularity of natural food and all. Can I twist your arm to fill in? It’s the last Tuesday in November.”

  “I’ve never given a talk on my work. Or done much public speaking.” Christine gave her a dubious look.

  “But you should, my dear. It’s a great way to promote the farm, especially in the off season when things are quiet. It would help build up interest and a customer base. I can think of any number of organizations in the area that would love to have you speak. And you do story hour every week. If you can hold the interest of a dozen youngsters, you’ll have no problem with adults. What do you
think?”

  It wasn’t a bad idea, Christine admitted. If she wanted the farm to keep growing, she’d have to find ways to advertise. And Marge was right about the quiet off season being a good opportunity to focus on promotion.

  “I suppose I could give it a try.”

  “Wonderful! I think we’ll draw both men and women to this one. I bet a lot of the farmers in the area would like to know more about their organic counterparts. And I know Cara will be there, her being a chef and all. Sam will be interested, too, with his health and medical background. We might even get the sheriff to drop in.”

  This was her opening, Christine realized. Adopting a casual stance, she angled away from the crowd. “He seems pretty busy with Jenna. It can’t be easy being a single dad.”

  “Yes. Such a sad story. Married his college sweetheart. She was an actress, you know. In Hollywood. That’s why Dale was in L.A. for almost a dozen years.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “The way I understand it, she…”

  “Would you like some coffee, Christine?”

  The sound of Dale’s voice close to her ear brought a flush to Christine’s cheeks. How embarrassing to be caught making furtive inquiries about his past! Marge, however, didn’t seem the least bothered by his sudden appearance.

  “That’s very nice of you, Dale. We want Christine to feel welcome so she’ll come again. Meanwhile, I have to get to work. Thank you again for your help, my dear.” Marge patted Christine’s arm. “I’ll be in touch with the details.”

  Although she would have liked to sink into the floor, Christine knew that wasn’t an option. Taking the cup Dale offered, she kept her gaze downcast. “Thanks.”

  “I put in lots of cream, the way you like it.”

  “Thanks.” She sounded like a stuck record. But if she confined her responses to monosyllables, maybe he’d go away.

  No such luck. He propped a shoulder against the wall, settling in. “My wife was killed in an accident on a movie set. A car went out of control during a chase scene and slid into the crowd of extras. She was the only casualty.”

  The words were matter-of-fact, but Christine heard the distant echo of pain behind them. Forcing herself to lift her head, she managed to find her voice. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “No?” Tilting his head, he regarded her with a skeptical expression. “Those were pretty pointed questions you were asking Marge.”

  “I’m sorry.” Guilt deepened the flush in her cheeks.

  He took a measured sip of his coffee. “I don’t mind. The details of my wife’s death are no secret. Not much is in a small town. But turnabout seems fair play. If you can ask questions about me, I think I should be able to ask a few about you.”

  “Like what?” Her mouth went dry, and she moistened her lips.

  “Like, why do you get nervous every time someone in uniform comes close?”

  Recalling another old saying about offense being the best defense, she figured it was worth a try. “Did you ever think it might just be you, Sheriff?”

  “At first. But Marv tells me you were the same with him.”

  Checkmate. Okay, perhaps a small dose of honesty would satisfy him, she strategized, regrouping. “I don’t like cops.”

  “Why not? We’re the good guys, remember?”

  His tone had been light and teasing, but cynicism hardened her features and she gave a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah, right.”

  Her harsh, hostile response chased away every trace of humor in Dale’s face. All at once, some of the pieces of the puzzle began to drop into place. She seemed like a decent, law-abiding citizen. Yet she had a record. And she hated cops. A frown creased his brow as he considered a new possibility, one that left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. When he spoke, his voice was somber. “Tell me about the DUI, Christine.”

  She drew in a sharp breath, as if she’d been slapped. “You checked my record.”

  “I wondered about alcohol the night you had the accident. I didn’t see any evidence of it, but given your odd behavior, I thought it merited some follow-up.” Not quite the whole truth about his reasons for delving into her past, but as much as he was willing to reveal.

  “Then you saw everything else, too.” Shock gave way to anger, and bright spots of color burned in her cheeks.

  “Once I pulled up your file, it was all there.”

  A knot formed in Christine’s stomach, tightening until it produced a physical pain. She’d thought she’d left the past behind, in Dunlap. But it had followed her here. She hadn’t escaped the whole sordid mess after all. Her hopes for a fresh start were dissolving before her eyes, like sparkling fireworks that briefly light up a dark summer night but leave deeper blackness in their wake.

  Choking back a sob, she set her cup on an adjacent table and almost ran from the hall, ignoring the curious looks that were cast in her direction. This was why she’d never let anyone get close. The risk of exposure was too great. And now she was paying the price for her lapse. Pretty soon, everyone in Oak Hill would know about the lawbreaker who ran Fresh Start Farm.

  She heard steps pounding on the pavement behind her as she ran across the parking lot—and they were gaining fast. The safety of her truck was still yards away when Dale’s hand closed around her arm.

  “Christine, please wait. I’m sorry.”

  With a violent jerk, she pulled away from his grasp and turned, glaring. For several seconds it was a standoff as they stared at each other, her features tense with anguish, his etched with regret and concern.

  “What are you going to do now, Sheriff?” Her chest heaving with exertion and distress, Christine broke the silence. “Charge me with resisting arrest? You’ll know from my record that I’ve been down that road once. And then what? Are you going to throw me in jail? Do a strip search? I’ve been there, too.”

  As her choked words registered, a powerful, cold anger sent a chill through Dale and his eyes narrowed. “You were strip searched?” The quiet menace in his tone was almost more dangerous than a raised voice.

  “Yes.” At the memory of that degrading and frightening experience, Christine’s cheeks lost their heightened color.

  “Strip searches aren’t common in small towns.”

  “Tell that to the sheriff in Dunlap.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Who did the search, Christine?” He had a feeling he already knew.

  “He did. The sheriff.”

  Her barely audible response confirmed his suspicion—and stoked his anger. A strip search by an opposite-gender officer was a gross violation of police protocol.

  “Did you tell anyone about this? What about your husband?”

  Her combination of bitter laughter and tears unnerved him. “Trust me, he knew.”

  None of this was making sense. And the church parking lot wasn’t the place to sort it out. “Look, let’s go somewhere we can talk. My mother will watch Jenna.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Sheriff.” She backed away from him.

  “I think there is. Police harassment is a criminal offense.”

  “Not in Dunlap.” She drew a long, shaky breath. When she continued, her voice was more controlled. “And just for the record, none of those charges you found are true. I told you once I don’t drink. I never have. That was a trumped-up accusation, the test results falsified. And yes, I resisted arrest, because I’d done nothing wrong. I paid for that with the humiliation of a strip search, a night in jail and the promise of worse if I ever got out of line again. As for the parking and speeding tickets—also bogus.”

  “But why, Christine? Why would the police harass you?” His mind whirling, Dale’s intense gaze locked on hers. It never occurred to him not to believe her.

  “It wasn’t the police, plural. It was the sheriff. As for why…let’s just say he was on my husband’s unofficial payroll.”

  She turned and walked to her truck, looking back
once for a charged moment before she slid inside and drove away.

  But in that brief glance, Dale saw a world of pain and disillusion. Along with a poignant vulnerability that hadn’t been there until now. And that was his fault, he acknowledged with a pang. He’d dredged up the past she’d taken such efforts to escape, tainted her new life, soured her fresh start.

  Dale felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. He’d just hurt a woman who had endured more than her share of hurt already. If he could, he’d rewind and delete the past fifteen minutes.

  Unfortunately, it was too late for that. But it wasn’t too late to pursue justice. Christine had been wronged. There was no doubt in his mind that she’d told him the truth. Yet for whatever reason, she’d been unable to fight her foes. Some-thing—or someone—had tied her hands.

  Well, his hands weren’t tied. Nor was it too late to see that justice was done.

  Starting right now.

  Chapter Ten

  To her credit, his mother didn’t pepper Dale with queries when he asked if she could watch Jenna for a few hours. Having witnessed Christine’s quick exit, she posed just one question. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” His mouth settled into a grim line. “But I’m going to try and find out.”

  “Take your time. Jenna and I will make cookies.”

  On days like this, Dale was reminded why he’d moved home. And how much he loved his mother. He managed a small smile and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “No thanks necessary. You just get busy and do what it takes to help that young woman. I have a feeling she could use a friend.”

  Now, two hours later, Dale leaned back in his desk chair and frowned at the computer screen. He’d ditched his suit jacket and loosened his tie as soon as he’d arrived in his office, trying to get comfortable. But the information he’d uncovered hadn’t helped him achieve that goal. In fact, it made him decidedly uncomfortable.

  After fifteen years in law enforcement, Dale was convinced that the vast majority of cops were conscientious, trustworthy public servants. But isolated cases of corruption did exist. And based on his research so far, it seemed he’d found one such glaring case in Dunlap, Nebraska.