Czytaj książkę: «The Sheriff's Second Chance»

Chapter One

It was the end of another school year.

Kelsey Graham sat at her broad oak desk at the front of the classroom, sorting through the homemade cards and gifts from her twenty-three first graders. They were technically second graders now, which some of the cards made clear with large numeral twos carefully traced atop heads on stick bodies, and houses with small roofs and giant chimneys.

The seven-year-old mind, so full of imagination and hope, never ceased to fascinate and amaze her. Forget television. Give a kid some paper and a box of crayons….

It was easy for anyone to dream on such a beautiful day. To gaze beyond the long open windows facing the school courtyard, let the mind wander on the warm breezes scented with peonies and freshly cut grass.

Spring into summer plans! she’d quipped to her students this afternoon over homemade cookies and lemonade. Many of the youngsters had announced trips to Disney World, Cape Cod, Hawaii. No surprise in this affluent Philadelphia neighborhood.

The most important thing, she’d insisted, as they’d crowded round for a farewell hug, was to enjoy their moms and dads, brothers and sisters. To laugh and play and tell stories, just as they had in the classroom. To take a few photographs to enjoy later on…

Kelsey’s gaze landed back on the empty rows of pint-sized desks and she felt a wistful pang. Last Day Letdown. She recognized the symptoms very well, having suffered from them on this final day of each of the past five school years.

Fueled with new purpose, she gripped the edge of the desk, rolled back her chair and stood. She turned and began to dismantle the dancing alphabet display from one of the cork squares flanking the blackboard, dropping the colorful construction-paper pieces into a box on the floor. She’d need a ladder to get at the train of twelve boxcars, designating months of the year, tacked out of reach above the board.

As if by telepathy, janitor Marta Lynch appeared with a metal step ladder. Like Kelsey, she was trim and toned, of average height and weight. But Marta was a full decade older than Kelsey’s twenty-eight years, and her clipped brown hair needed a routine dye job to cover some pesky gray strands. While Kelsey favored chic outfits like today’s navy linen suit with pink nylon shell, peppy Marta wore casual clothing more suited to her job. Today’s comical red T-shirt read Don’t Wanna Work. A joke, indeed, as she never stopped.

“Hi, Kel,” Marta chirped. “I figured you’d need your annual boost.”

This was a pep talk to help Kelsey let go of yet another year’s worth of bright faces that had shaped her life. In her own cheery way, Marta tried to steer Kelsey to activities that would make the summer months fly, and fill the void until another classful of kids marched in to give Kelsey’s life fresh purpose and direction.

“Thanks, Marta,” she said through a mouthful of stick pins.

“Hey, swallow those and you’ll need an ambulance!” Marta propped the ladder against the wall to march over and pull the pins free.

There was an informality between Kelsey and all the maintenance staff that allowed this kind of scolding. She’d grown up working in her mother’s Cozy Home Café back in tiny Maple Junction, Wisconsin where there were no prima donnas among the cooks, potato peelers and dishwashers in the kitchen. Everyone pitched in where needed without a whimper.

This democratic approach had not caught fire with most of the faculty here at Hancock Grammar School. The other teachers believed in keeping a lofty distance from the maintenance workers and felt it within their right to make pretentious demands of them. While Kelsey’s friendlier approach wasn’t a bid to score more perks, it did win her prompt spill cleanup and lightbulb replacements, as well as the latest hydraulic chair every autumn.

Marta had taken the pins to an open container on the desk and was perusing Kelsey’s farewell loot.

“You can rummage,” invited Kelsey. “I already noted who gave me what.”

Marta chuckled as she picked up a shimmery pink sack of potpourri. “This is from the Walters boy. The principal has already put his in the trash.” She moved the pin box to the chalk tray near the blackboard, looking Kelsey straight in the eye. “I advise you to do the same. His granny uses some illegal substances along with the cinnamon and rosemary. Of the hallucinatory kind.”

“Marta!” Kelsey laughed. “How ridiculous.”

“Ha. Put that brew in your panty drawer and you risk being raided.”

“It smells wonderful and will be fine in a bowl on my kitchen table.” The table was just a small one that barely fit in the nook of her studio apartment, but she liked the word kitchen. She and her mother Clare both loved to cook.

Marta shrugged. “Well, at least don’t set that nickel bag of tricks on fire.”

“I think in today’s market, the bags are worth at least a dime.”

“Whatever.” Marta strolled back to the desk and sifted through the cards, still heavy and damp with paste. “The sentiments on these are always so sweet—wishes and kisses, hearts and smiles.”

“Yeah.” Kelsey sighed and tugged at the crepe paper trimming the cork’s wood frame. “So many big dreams in those little people. Unspoiled.” For now.

“So, you and the boyfriend have any hot summer plans?”

“Tanner and I are finished.”

“Really? For good?”

“You had to see it coming, Marta.”

“I knew you weren’t happy, but didn’t know for sure he would be for the chop. After all, you’ve bickered before and had the best of fun making up.”

Kelsey winced. “The chop sounds so brutal. We just said goodbye.” Despite Marta’s graphic terminology, there was no denying that she’d gotten the gist of Kelsey’s relationship with Tanner. They shared a chemistry that kept them both hungry and satisfied, breaking up and making up.

Ultimately, she had been forced to face the reality that was Tanner. A bit younger than Kelsey, he was still wangling the best deal his communications degree could get him. During this quest, he worked at Star-bucks, obsessed over basketball and video games. There were also Tanner’s parties. Much like fraternity bashes, they centered around junk food and a keg of beer. Understandable, perhaps, as Tanner had only been out of college two years.

Kelsey had foolishly decided to hurry along his maturity, offering direction and fresh goals. After all, he had so much potential. But in the heat of their worst argument ever, he’d accused her of treating him like one of her students.

Tanner had Kelsey figured and had every right to be annoyed. Of course, he was clueless why she’d suddenly changed. Kelsey had originally been attracted to his aimless approach because her own college years had been pretty grim, dealing with regrets better left back in Maple Junction.

Sadly, she’d finally discovered it was too late for a replay.

She could have loosened up a bit more, got into hiphop and learned to navigate a PlayStation. But she didn’t really want to.

“On second thought, maybe there is no better way to describe my breakup than the chop.”

Rather than amuse Marta, this remark deepened her frown. “Maybe you should’ve hung on to him through the summer, just for some fun.”

“No. I can’t bear one more burping rendition of the Green Acres theme song from a gang of magna-cumlaude grads.” Kelsey tossed the last of the colorful display into the box and joined Marta at the desk.

“How will you fill your time?” Marta asked bleakly.

“Well, there’s Toby Schuler and Debbie Kinny, they seem friendly,” said Kelsey, referring to two singles who’d joined the teaching staff that year.

“Oh, sure. Toby is a mama’s boy who’s going to spend the summer watching movies. As for Debbie, all she plans to do is haunt the thrift stores and read trashy magazines.” At Kelsey’s look of surprise, Marta shrugged. “I hear loads of stuff cleaning the faculty lounge. People act like I’m not even there and it’s a mighty handy way to get a scoop.”

“Okay, so I save them for an emergency. I also have my girlfriends from college.”

“Every year, more of those Bryn Mawr College pals are getting married and moving to the suburbs.”

“They’re not exactly dead yet,” Kelsey grumbled.

“Death and marriage are similar transitions in the eye of a single person, right? I mean, when it comes down to availability.”

With a huff, Kelsey set her briefcase atop the clutter, released the twin clasps and opened the lid. “Make yourself useful and help me stack the cards in here.”

Marta admired a card cut into a crooked half moon before putting it in the case. “You know what I mean. When you’re single there’s always a hassle in getting together with married girlfriends. The hubby’s brother is coming to dinner, or the baby has a diaper rash, or the older kid has a tuba lesson.”

Kelsey eyed her wryly. “Those some of your excuses to friends?”

“I only wish my boys had played an instrument. But as you know, they only love hockey. As it turns out, most of my friends are the mothers of other players. I guess it’s because we spend so much time together in the bleachers. You’re welcome to hang out with me—” she paused “—in a pinch.”

“I don’t think I’d fit in without my own hockey player.” Kelsey left the greeting cards to Marta and retrieved an empty baked bean box from the floor to pack away the gifts. “Stop worrying. I’ll be fine.”

Marta picked up a bottle of cheap cologne, popped the cap and took a whiff. “Phew! Lily of the valley. All the rage over at the nursing home.”

Kelsey snatched it away and set it gently in the box. “Do the cards.” She’d collected a pretty wooden bird-house she could put on her condo’s small balcony, a box of chocolates for her nightstand and a collection of colored ink pens she’d use to write letters to her mother. Clare wasn’t into e-mails or anything to do with computers for that matter. She wasn’t open to change, being entirely focused on the café. Just as Kelsey was with teaching.

Among the wealth of gifts, there were a number of mugs proclaiming her World’s Best Teacher. Even with a cupboard full of them, she still enjoyed getting more, as each one was reinforcement of her life’s narrow mission.

Moving the briefcase to the opposite side of the desk, Marta tipped it just enough to send the contents sliding and expose some of the personal papers Kelsey routinely dealt with during her free time.

Marta spouted, “No harm done,” before righting the case again but suddenly spotted a neon-orange sheet of paper. “Hey, what’s this?”

“Nothing.” Kelsey tried to grab it, but Marta was too quick for her. With a deft move likely learned from a hockey son, she ducked and spun on worn Nike running shoes. Caught on spike-heeled pumps, Kelsey was no match.

“Reunion,” Marta said, skimming the sheet with interest. “Class of ninety-seven. This is about your tenth high-school reunion in Maple Junction!”

“Yes, but—”

“Empty months ahead and you never said a word about this opportunity.”

Kelsey flapped her hands. “Stop! I’m not interested.”

Marta ignored her. “Two weeks away. You’ve got plenty of time to get some new outfits, a haircut.”

“Dammit, Marta, I am not going,” Kelsey insisted. “I’ve closed the door on that part of my life.”

“But you’ve got some nice childhood memories.”

She folded her arms defensively. “I know.”

“It’ll be a good change for you, especially after dumping Tanner.”

“I have my summer all mapped out,” Kelsey protested. “Days of reading books on the beach, jogging, whacking golf balls at the driving range. Nights downtown seeing plays, eating formal dinners served by polite waiters and drinking cocktails mixed by cocky bartenders.”

“By yourself!”

“Probably. Mostly. I’m fine with it, so let’s drop the whole issue.”

“Whatever.” Marta went over to retrieve her ladder, tipping it against the strip of cork over the blackboard where the paper train was.

“I can climb that thing,” Kelsey said.

“Not in those heels, you can’t. It would be as dangerous as putting pins in your mouth.” Taking the rungs with ease, Marta looked down on her distracted friend, now engrossed in the flyer. “Opportunity is knockin’…”

“Marta, please!”

“Just seems high time to take another look at that hometown situation.”

“Three of my good friends died, along with all their big dreams for the future. That’s more than a situation, it’s nothing short of a tragedy.”

“It’s more of a tragedy if your dreams died, too.”

Kelsey hung her head. “Well, maybe I deserve it.”

“You’ve been punishing yourself for ten years,” Marta said gently. “That seems a stiff penalty for an unintentional spinout on a dark rainy road. Besides, you aren’t absolutely sure you were even driving.”

The awful accident had indeed resulted in a head injury that robbed Kelsey of any memory of that night’s prom festivities, including details of the crash itself. However, since she was found near the driver’s door of the Jetta, and had later admitted her inexperience in handling a stick shift, the police had deduced that she’d likely been the fumbler behind the wheel.

Kelsey had been far too spunky back then to accept full responsibility for an event she couldn’t even remember, especially as it could have resulted in a manslaughter charge. Just the same, her heart remained broken, regret and remorse gnawing at the wound.

In a way, she understood the public’s initial mistrustful outcry. She had had a reputation for daring deeds—daring for Maple Junction anyway—like scaling high fences, skiing down perilous roads closed during the winter’s iciest weeks, somersaulting off the high board at the community swimming pool. And there was never any question that she would top Whittier High’s cheerleader pyramid during any given routine.

While scarcely a pattern of seriously reckless behavior, it hadn’t helped her case. For most people, it proved to be a small leap in judgment to assume she had climbed behind the wheel of her boyfriend Brad’s car and driven under those dangerous conditions.

The controversy remained unresolved to this day. Without solid proof of her guilt, the cops were stalled and she in turn could raise no tangible defense.

“If you’d seemed content here all these years, I wouldn’t be pressing the issue,” Marta broke in gently. “But it’s plain to see you’ve been settling for a fairly narrow life with just a handful of relationships. Forgive me if I’m being too pushy, but for the first time since we’ve met, you seem primed to move forward. You dumped the Boy Wonder and hung on to that flyer for a reason! Maybe you want to go home more than you realize.”

“People wanted me gone quite badly back then. In fact they shunned me. I wouldn’t know where to begin with them.”

“Simply be yourself, who’s a wonderful person, I might add. You’re as sorry as anybody about what happened,” Marta speculated. “That should count for something.”

“Brad’s folks, Lewis and Bailey Cutler, are bound to be sorrier for a start. Their life revolved around their only son.”

“They are likely still feeling the pain more than most, but I’m confident you can win them over. You did the first time around.”

An image of Brad popped into her head. His striking white-blond hair, clear blue eyes, well-proportioned features and the brilliant smile that had made him all the more handsome. He’d been smiling big the day he’d first taken Kelsey home to the Cutler estate to meet his parents. The son of the richest, most powerful man in town, determined to date the middle-class café owner’s daughter. She smiled faintly. They’d taken the trouble to get to know her because they’d respected Brad’s opinion and he’d so badly wanted them to approve of her.

“It all fell into place like a dream,” she admitted. “We got on great and they began to look forward to me being part of the family one day. It was going to be fantastic, Marta.” Her smile faded. “But it’s all gone. The magic died with Brad.”

“That old magic, yes. But the world hums with a new magic each and every day, even back in Maple Junction. It’s high time you checked it out and decided once and for all where you belong.”

“What if going back makes me feel even worse?”

“At least you’ll know you tried. In any case, it’s bound to help you move on.” Marta descended the ladder to stand at her elbow, her excitement growing. “So have you bounced the idea off your mother yet?”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, you should. She for one will be thrilled to see you.”

This wasn’t necessarily true. Marta had met Clare Graham several times when she’d visited Philadelphia. But Marta didn’t understand that the cordial vacationer was vastly different from the sober café owner. Like Kelsey, Clare was burdened with a heavy guilt over the car crash. No wonder, as folks simmering with grief and rage had suddenly branded her a bad parent for raising such a reckless daughter, and initially had punished her by avoiding the café. Clare had long insisted business was fine again, and Kelsey had taken her at her word.

Just the same, Clare had never once coaxed her to come back and had never offered a mother’s absolution for what had happened. This hurt Kelsey but she struggled to be realistic. How could she expect her mother to be stronger than herself? Kelsey never broached the idea of returning either. And when they did on rare occasions speak of the accident, they still fed off each other’s guilt. Having lost Kelsey’s father, Paul, to a brain aneurism when Kelsey was nearly ten, they both fully understood the gaping hole that death left in a family.

On the other hand, they’d always been a team because of his death, keeping the café up and running together. Kelsey missed the close bond they’d once shared and wanted it back.

Later that evening, back at her dinky downtown condo on Monroe Avenue, Kelsey sat at the table in her nook with her new set of colored pens and an assortment of stationery. Also in front of her was the acceptance form from the reunion flyer, filled out and clipped along the dotted line.

With a flourish she stuffed the form, a cheery note and a check for the fifty-dollar fee into an envelope addressed to the reunion coordinator, her closest childhood friend, Sarah Yates. Done! No turning back now. She was homeward bound.

Marta’s efforts had given her the final nudge she’d needed. The past decade in Philadelphia had indeed been a disappointment, nothing like her original dreams of teaching alongside Sarah at the local elementary school, then marriage and kids. Her inability to rise above those old hometown hurts had kept her emotionally frozen.

Perhaps the only way to move forward was to first take the trip back.

On many levels the very idea was scary, preposterous. Would anyone welcome her? To make this work, she had to believe they would. That even if they couldn’t forget what had happened, they’d be willing to forgive.

Then with any luck, maybe she could finally forgive herself.

She needed to let her mother know. Although it seemed most reasonable just to call, Kelsey knew that if she detected the tiniest bit of hesitation in Clare’s tone, she’d chicken out.

Picking up a pen with cheery orange ink, she held it over some bright floral-bordered paper, rehearsing aloud what she’d write.

“Dear Mom. It’s been awhile since you’ve visited Pennsylvania. Too long, really. Seems about time I came back to Wisconsin.

“Dear Mom, Guess what? Wonderful news. I’m coming home.”

With a sigh, she set pen to paper. “Dear Mom, Just want to prepare you. I’m returning home for the reunion….”