To Be a Family (Harlequin Superromance) (7 page)

Funny, though, how now that he was ready for change, his life
was changing around him. He had custody of Tuti and was reconnecting with Katie.
Maybe it was time he did something about his career, as well. He had a family to
think about. Okay, she was only one small girl, but being responsible for Tuti
made him look at life differently. And if things progressed with Katie—but no,
he wasn’t going to get ahead of himself. For now he was just glad they were back
on friendly terms.

He went inside to collect his mail in the main office. Patty,
the young Irish woman in Dispatch, was working the switchboard. “Hey, Patty. Hot
day.”

“To be sure.” Patty adjusted her headset, pushing back red
curls damp with perspiration. “The air-conditioning never makes it into this
little sweatbox. When are we going to get approval on the extension and
upgrade?”

He knew he shouldn’t have made his request for funds public,
but Patty did double duty as a secretary and had typed the application. Once
Patty knew something, the entire station was informed within a day or two. He
hated having to explain himself to people. He’d had enough of that following the
breakup with Katie and the death of his surfing dream. Nowadays he was more
pragmatic, less of a dreamer. Until lately. Was he crazy, starting to want more
professionally just when he was tied down with a child? Except he didn’t see it
that way. Tuti was a new adventure, a breath of fresh air, reminding him that
he’d once wanted more out of life.

“Don’t hold your breath.” John tugged at his collar. “I think
there’s a floor fan in the storeroom.”

“A floor fan.” Patty shook her head dolefully.

John fished his mail out of his pigeonhole and walked down the
corridor to his office. Before he got there Paula waylaid him in the bull pen.
Behind her, Riley was at a desk, furiously typing into a computer.

“A word, boss?” Paula, tall, athletic and blonde, came forward
to meet him. “It’s about the Moresco case.”

Paula had come to Summerside with a cloud over her head from a
past liaison with Nick Moresco, a drug dealer under her investigation who’d
fathered her son, Jamie. When crystal methamphetamine appeared on the street in
Summerside she’d vowed to put Moresco back behind bars. She and Riley had been
working hard on the case, but so far they hadn’t managed to gather enough
evidence to make an arrest.

“What’s the latest?” John said. “Any breakthroughs?”

“Riley and I tailed him to a holiday house in Rye,” Paula said.
“We believe he’s using the premises to cook crystal meth.” She glanced at Riley,
checking his progress. “We’re applying for a search warrant.”

“You going out there today?”

“No, I need to organize the Force Response Unit from Melbourne.
That’ll take a couple of days.”

“What evidence do you have that he’s cooking?” John asked. “If
you’re wrong, you’ll send him underground.”

“Nick’s a city penthouse kind of guy,” Paula explained. “This
holiday house is tiny and rustic, tucked in the bushes, far from the beach.”

“No nosy neighbors to wonder about odd smells,” Riley said over
the sound of typing. “Nor any great loss if the kitchen explodes and the place
burns down.”

John envied their excitement at closing in on their lead. Sure
he was in charge of the station, but he’d gone into the police force because he
was a doer, not a paper pusher. These days his job mostly involved
administration and a mountain of paperwork. And keeping a level head. “Sure he
wasn’t just visiting someone?”

“The property is registered in his grandmother’s name. She
lives in Palermo, Italy,” Paula added pointedly. “We’ve got him this time, I’m
positive.”

“Sounds promising. Judge Horton in Frankston is available
during office hours to sign your warrant.” John clapped Paula on the shoulder
and nodded to Riley. “Good work, you two. If you need me to be part of the
team…” He tried to keep the wistful note out of his voice.

“Don’t worry,” Riley said. “We’ve got it covered.”

Of course, they did. But all of a sudden he was desperate to be
doing
something. “Let me know when the raid is
going down. I want to be there.”

Leaving them staring after him, he carried on to his office. He
shut the door with a slam and flung himself in his chair. Files were stacked a
foot high on both sides of his desk. Ignoring them, he leafed through the mail.
Memos about bushfire safety, notices of upcoming detective courses, the national
police newsletter… He flipped through the newsletter to the ads for vacant
positions. Not that he was going anywhere. He’d just brought Tuti home to
Summerside. She needed to settle in.

He tossed the newsletter aside. Nope, nothing of interest.

CHAPTER FIVE

K
ATIE
IGNORED
THE
tittering going on in her class to answer the door and let in the
sixth-grade girl collecting lunch orders. Normally her students were well
behaved, but today the moment her back turned whispers and stifled giggles
started. She’d hoped the children would get bored of teasing Tuti, at least
until recess when Katie could fix the girl’s hair.

Tuti’s pigtails did look funny, she had to admit. Done
correctly, they adorably jutted out either side of her dimpled smile. She didn’t
know what John had done today but it wasn’t pretty. Not even cute. Tufts of hair
erupted from the top of the girl’s head at an angle, leaving clumps hanging down
that weren’t long enough to be held by the elastic. As if that wasn’t bad
enough, the right pigtail sat an inch forward of the left pigtail. Plus, the
left pigtail had a ribbon and the right didn’t, adding to the comic effect.

Except that Tuti wasn’t laughing. At first she’d smiled in
response to the other children’s grins and reached out the only way she knew
how, by offering them cookies from her lunch, and the use of her precious
colored pencils. Gradually she’d realized they were laughing
at
her, not with her. Her sweet smile had faded,
replaced by an anxious frown.

Katie glanced over her shoulder. Her heart sank.

Tuti’s head was bowed low, her forehead almost touching the top
of the table she shared with Belinda. As Katie watched, a tear dropped. Belinda,
bless her, rubbed Tuti’s shoulder and glared at the class but even she couldn’t
stop them from teasing. Katie bit her lip. She didn’t want to make things worse
for Tuti by chastising the class in front of her.

She turned back to the grade-sixer. Miranda was one of the
popular girls. Her long shiny blond hair was beautifully but simply styled with
a blue hair band that matched her dress.

“Miranda, could you do me a favor?” she said in a low voice.
“Leave the order with me for now and take Tuti to the girl’s room and fix her
hair.”

“Yes, Miss.” Miranda handed over the plastic container in which
she carried the paper bags and money.

Katie called Tuti over and gave her a little hug. “Go with
Miranda.”

“Come on, Tuti.” Miranda smiled and held out her hand. “I’ll
make you so pretty.”

Sniffing, Tuti trustingly placed her hand in Miranda’s.

Katie closed the door and turned back to the class. From the
shamefaced expressions on most of the children they knew they’d done wrong.
Reminding herself that the word
discipline
meant to
teach not to punish, she told them a story with a message on treating others as
we would like to be treated.

She thought of that lesson and how to approach John about the
incident as she drove Tuti home from her English tutoring that afternoon.
Naturally she couldn’t and wouldn’t punish John for making Tuti the
laughingstock of the class. But she could teach him how not to.

He opened the door of his town house to her knock, still in his
uniform, a beer in his hand. He looked tired, the lines around his eyes more
deeply etched than usual. His broad shoulders filled out his blue uniform shirt
as nicely as ever but today they didn’t seem quite as straight.

“Hey, Tuti,” he said. “How did you get braids in your
hair?”

Tuti beamed at him then slipped past, kicking off her shoes and
tugging at her socks even before she dropped her school bag. She ran down the
hall, presumably to her bedroom.

“I got a girl from grade six to help,” Katie explained. Miranda
had done a fabulous job on Tuti. Two thin braids were caught up in perfect
pigtails tied with a rich blue satin that contrasted beautifully with Tuti’s
glossy black hair. After lunch, several other grade-one girls had returned from
the playground with the same hairstyle, although not executed with the same
panache.

Katie handed John the reader they’d worked from that he was
supposed to go over again with Tuti tonight. “May I come in? There’s something
important we need to talk about.”

John set the reader on the hall table and lined up Tuti’s
carelessly discarded shoes neatly next to his spit-polished black leather shoes.
“I’ll just go turn down the stove. Come through to the kitchen.”

Katie had never been inside John’s town house but she
recognized his collection of boomerangs and Aboriginal throwing sticks mounted
on one wall of the small foyer. The collection had grown since she’d last seen
it in the house he’d shared with Riley in their early twenties. She’d
practically lived there herself, coming and going as if it were her second home.
She missed those days with a sudden pang—the carefree lifestyle, their
still-sunny-looking future, the love and the laughter. Now she was a formal
visitor, a service provider, the atmosphere constrained.

Remembering how he liked to keep shoes off in the house, Katie
slipped out of her pumps and followed him to the kitchen, where exotic spices
wafted from a pot bubbling on the stove. In the doorway she leaned against the
jamb and watched him lift the lid and give the contents a stir, a small frown
putting creases between his eyes.

“Hard day?”

“The usual.” He replaced the lid and turned down the gas
burner.

“Tuti had a tough day, too.” Katie glanced over her shoulder.
The girl wasn’t in sight but just in case, she kept her voice low. “The other
kids laughed at her, made her cry.”

John had been about to take a sip of beer. Instead he set the
bottle on the granite counter. “What happened?”

“Her pigtails. I’m sorry but they looked ridiculous. It was
really embarrassing for poor Tuti.”

“Don’t kids have anything better to worry about than another
child’s hairstyle?”

“Sure they do, like who has the newest video game, or who let
out a fart in class. These are kids, John. They can be unbelievably sweet. And
they can be unthinkingly cruel.”

“But you fixed it, right? Her hair looks fine now.”

“Yes, but I can’t ask Miranda to do her hair every day.”

Wearily he scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “What
do you suggest?”

“I’m going to teach you to make a proper pigtail and also to
braid.” She smiled. “Tuti’s a trendsetter now. After today, any little girl who
doesn’t show up to grade one without two tiny braids in her hair is going to
suffer.”

“You want me to learn to braid hair.” He spoke as if she’d
asked him to put on a tutu and dance ballet.

“You’re a single dad. It’s part of what you do. Don’t worry,
anyone can learn.”

Half an hour later, she was beginning to wonder if that was
true. Tuti sat on a tall stool in front of the bathroom mirror, eating an
ice-cream bar. John, who could splice rope and tie complicated sailor’s knots,
was all thumbs when it came to braiding Tuti’s hair.

“It’s so slippery.” His blue police shirt was damp beneath his
arms and he frowned in concentration, his tongue tucked in a corner of his
mouth.

Katie was feeling less than cool herself, crammed into the
small bathroom so close to John their elbows bumped. She could feel his body
heat and smell the long day in his clothes. If she didn’t care about him, why
was she so aware of him physically, or notice how he kept glancing at her
instead of watching what he was doing?

“You’ve almost got it. Don’t let go of the strands. You’re
doing well.” She had to hand it to him, once he’d accepted that hairdos were an
integral part of childrearing he’d stuck to it. “Now, gather the braid and the
clump of hair. No, don’t just bunch it into the elastic, you have to brush it
first so it’s smooth.”

He fumbled and half the pigtail fell through his fingers.
Keeping a tight hold on the rest of the hair, he glanced to her for help. Her
arm brushed his and their fingers touched as she gathered up the lock of hair
and passed it into his grip.

Golden bristles of his five-o’clock shadow glinted in her
peripheral vision. His jaw was set. Katie held her breath. When they’d been
together he’d been little more than a gangling youth. Now she was very aware he
had a man’s strength and air of authority.

Suddenly she saw her avoidance of him over the years in a new
light. His smile, his charm, his blue eyes…all were lethally attractive,
dangerous given she didn’t want to be involved. Now she’d gotten herself into a
situation of having to be around him. What kind of an idiot was she? She’d been
hurt by him once. Could she trust herself not to fall for him again? She didn’t
want to take that chance. But what choice did she have? She was committed to
helping Tuti.

He pulled the elastic over the pigtail. “Your daddy’s doing a
good job,” Katie said to Tuti in the mirror.

The girl gazed at her quizzically.

“She knows me as
Bapa
.” John
gingerly let go of the pigtail and stood back. “How’s that?”

Bapa
. Talk about a cold splash of
reality. As adorable as Tuti was, every time she looked at the little girl she
was slapped in the face with John’s betrayal, with proof that in her hour of
need John had abandoned her. She’d thought she knew him but she hadn’t really
known him at all.

Katie tugged Tuti’s pigtail gently to tighten the elastic and
tucked a braid into place. “Good effort. Now tie on the ribbons and make a bow.”
He reached for two ribbons from the collection at random. “No, they have to be
the same color.”

“Close enough.”

“Would you wear socks of two different colors?” Glancing down
at his feet, she laughed. “Oh, my God. You are. Can’t you tell navy from
black?”

“No, I can’t.” His dimple deepened. “Remember?”

Now that he’d reminded her, she did. Her crack about his socks
must have come from her subconscious. The first time they’d spent the night
together, at the Forsters’ beach cottage, giddy with love, they’d had a silly
discussion over his socks. He’d sworn black was blue and vice versa. She never
had figured out if he really couldn’t tell the difference or if he’d just been
teasing her.

“Luckily Tuti’s ribbons only give you a choice of blue or
white.” Even hair accessories had to be in the school colors.

John wound a ribbon onto each pigtail and tied two perfect
bows. He met Katie’s gaze in the mirror. “Do I get a gold star?”

A corner of her mouth lifted. “You’ll pass.”

Very casually he added, “Would you like to stay for dinner, as
you know, friends do? I’m making Beef Rendang.”

Tuti’s bright gaze darted between her face and his.

His use of the word “friend” had been a deliberate reminder of
her side of the bargain. Katie was tempted, and by more than the rich aroma of
ginger, garlic and chili permeating the house. Tuti’s origins aside, she
liked
John. Plus, she’d promised not to slight
him.

On the other hand, she didn’t want to get involved in a
relationship again and she got the feeling that’s what he was angling after.
Yes, she felt an attraction and she enjoyed his company but that didn’t make
certain issues disappear. Being around him reminded her of the good times, but
also of the bad times, the cancer and the treatments. And being rejected not
only in her hour of need but also at the moment she had stood up for what she
believed in. He hadn’t backed her. As much as she might be attracted to him, if
being with him meant having to sacrifice a part of herself, well then, she
couldn’t do it. What if her cancer did recur someday. Would
he
do anything differently? She couldn’t risk being hurt again.

Just because they were trying to be friends didn’t mean she had
to accept every invitation.

“Thanks, but I’m going home to write. My contract arrived
today. I really need to get some work done on my book.” It wasn’t just an
excuse. Her deadlines, while exciting, were also scary. She was a tiny bit
afraid she’d bitten off more than she could chew.

A refusal was usually his cue to tease her about working too
much, and list the menu items in an attempt to lure her to his dining table.
Then he would tease and torment until she was struggling between laughing and
wanting to slap him.

But all he said was, “Another time, then.”

As if it was nothing to him, either way. Just for a second
Katie almost felt as if she’d been rejected. But that was stupid. She’d been the
one to turn down the offer. She didn’t like it when he was too persistent. She’d
wanted him to ease up. She couldn’t possibly be missing his teasing.

“Off you go, Tuti,” John said. “Go change out of your school
clothes so you don’t get them dirty.”

Tuti waggled her head to watch her pigtails bounce, then ran
out of the bathroom. A moment later Katie heard the back door slam. Not going to
her room to change as she’d been asked. John was straightening up the collection
of pink and purple barrettes, scrunchies and hair bands that had bloomed
alongside his shaving accessories on the bathroom counter.

Wasn’t he going to go after her, make sure she did as she was
told? Had he even noticed? Should she say something? Being a teacher, Katie was
used to making children behave. She bit her lip to stop from speaking out. It
was none of her business if Tuti got her dress dirty and couldn’t wear it
tomorrow.

She turned to leave. “I can let myself out.”

“I’m coming, too. Make sure that rendang isn’t sticking to the
pot.”

She walked ahead of him down the narrow hallway lined with
Forster family photographic portraits.

“Which one of our adventures are you going to write about
tonight?” John asked.

Katie’s step faltered and her cheeks warmed. “I don’t know what
you mean.”

“Come on, Katie. It’s obvious I’m Monkey.”

He’d guessed. Well, she supposed it wasn’t that hard. She’d
never expected he would read the book and since no one else knew half the places
they went and things they did, she hadn’t thought he would find out.