Adopted Son

Eli came back, a Bud Light in his hand. “Do they even know who the little boy is?”

“They’re investigating now.”

Jesse gurgled again, drawing their attention.

Eli sat on the edge of the other rocker, watching his son. “I’m thinking about calling him Jess. I know Jesse was on Pa’s birth certificate and Caroline liked it at the time, but now that he’s older I like Jess. It’s what everyone called Pa, anyway.”

Tuck rolled his eyes. “Could you be more transparent?” Eli and Caroline had decided to name their son after Eli and Tuck’s foster father.

“What?”

“Jesse sound too feminine for you?”

Eli took a swallow of beer. “Maybe.”

Tuck bounced the boy on his knee. “What does Caroline think of the idea?”

“She rolled her eyes just like you did.”

Tuck laughed, and it felt good to talk nonsense with his brother. “Pa said as he grew older everyone started calling him Jess. It will probably be the same with Jesse.”

“Yeah. And Caroline won’t think I’m a macho pig.”

“Caroline doesn’t ever think that about you.”

“Hmm. She understands me better than anyone.”

Tuck raised an eyebrow. “And believe me that’s not easy.”

“Come on, I’m a big old teddy bear these days.”

Tuck just grinned. Caroline had changed his brother for the better. He was softer, more approachable. He and Caroline were good for each other. Tuck envied that. He wasn’t jealous because he was happy for them. They’d found something rare—true love.

He wasn’t so jaded by past experiences that he didn’t believe in love anymore. He did. But for him life was different. His goals were different from most men’s. He knew a lot of his attitudes had to do with the circumstances of his birth, but so far he hadn’t found a woman to change his way of thinking.

At his age, he didn’t think that was ever going to happen. That was fine, too. He was content with the choices he’d made.

“Is Caroline working tonight?” Caroline was a professional photographer and often worked late.

“No. She had a magazine shoot this morning that ran into the late afternoon. Mr. Fussy Pants here is teething and wouldn’t sleep when he was supposed to. Caroline is soaking in a hot tub and I’m giving her some quiet time.”

Jesse tried to jam both fists into his mouth, chewing away as slobber ran down his chin.

“He’s trying to eat his hands,” Tuck remarked.

Eli dug in the diaper bag and handed Tuck a cloth. He waved a teething ring in front of Jesse. “Chomp on this for a while, son.” Jesse clamped onto the ring.

Tuck wiped Jesse’s chin. “Does he keep y’all up at night?”

“Sometimes.”

“Why don’t you go home and unwind with Caroline,” Tuck suggested. “I’ll watch Jesse.”

Eli jumped to his feet. “You got a deal.” He kissed the top of Jesse’s head. “Daddy will be back later.” Eli paused in the doorway. “This is where he’s supposed to cry because I’m leaving him.”

“He’s not going to cry.” Tuck bounced Jesse up and down. “He’s happy with Uncle Tuck.”

“Yeah. I’ll pick him up later.”

“Take your time. I don’t have plans.”

After Eli left, Tuck grabbed the diaper bag and went inside. Sam followed. Dee decided she’d rather stay outdoors. He gathered toys out of the bag and eased down on the area rug. Jesse crawled all over him instead of playing with the toys, the teething ring firmly gripped in one hand.

Jesse poked his fingers in Tuck’s eyes, ears, nose and mouth. Tuck wiped away slobber and just enjoyed the wonder of this curious child. He thought about kids and how some were born into privilege and others into horrible circumstances. Trying to understand why would be impossible. And he probably wasn’t supposed to. That’s why there were people like Jess and Amalie Tucker—to even the odds.

At that moment he felt incredibly lucky.

Maybe that’s why he felt so strongly about his plans to one day refurbish the farmhouse and take in foster children. Every child needed a chance like the one he’d been given.

A knock at his back door interrupted his reverie. He swung Jesse into his arms and got to his feet.

“We got company, Jesse.” He wiped away more slobber. “Wonder who it is?”

He stopped at the door. Grace Whitten, Caroline’s sister, stood on the other side of the screen. He pushed it open, his heart knocking against his ribs the way it always did when Grace was near. He never quite understood that because the woman could annoy the hell out of him with very little effort.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Jeremiah.”

He tensed and felt that seething annoyance creep up his spine. No one called him Jeremiah but Grace.

“But I was over at Caroline and Eli’s and no one answered the door. I…” Her words halted as she held out her hands to Jesse. “Come to Auntie Grace. I should have known they were here. Both their vehicles are at their house.”

Jesse practically leaped into her arms.

Traitor.

“Hi, precious,” Grace cooed as she walked in without an invitation.

“Don’t call him precious,” Tuck said, closing the door.

Grace turned to face him. “Why not?”

The objection had come out of nowhere and he couldn’t explain it. Maybe it had something to do with the talk he and Eli had had earlier about the macho stuff. He could blame Eli, but obviously he had issues about boys being boys and girls being girls. Or whatever. Grace had a way of making him nuts. He’d blame her. That was easier.

He waved his hand. “Never mind.”

Grace glanced around his kitchen and den for Caroline and Eli. He watched the patrician features of her face. She had to be the most reserved, uptight woman he’d ever met. Her exterior was cool, composed. Always. He’d never seen her any other way and he’d known her for four years.

Grace was a dedicated career woman. Dressed in a navy suit, white silky blouse and high heels, she wore her blond hair pulled back in a neat knot at her nape. Not one hair was out of place. Ever. Perfect came to mind when he looked at Grace.

Perfect and beautiful.

Untouchable beauty.

Like a mannequin on display.

He wondered what would happen if he reached up and took the pins out of her hair. Would she be transformed into a woman with emotions and needs? He shook his head to rid himself of that insane thought. Grace was the head of the Whitten Law Firm, following in Congressman Stephen Whitten’s footsteps. Everything in her life she did to please her father.

He often thought that Grace was programmed not to show emotion. But the moment she held Jesse he knew he was wrong. Her features softened and her green eyes sparkled. He had a hard time looking away, which surprised him.

“They’re not here.”

It took a moment for him to realize what she was talking about. “No. Eli and Caroline are not here.”

“Where are they?”

“At home.”

She nuzzled Jesse’s face. “I was just there. They didn’t answer the door.”

“They’re busy.”

“What are they doing that they can’t answer the door?”

He hitched an eyebrow. “A husband and wife are home alone. I have the baby. Use your imagination.”

“Oh.” A slight flush stained her cheeks, but her composure quickly returned. “I’ll call Caroline later.”

Sam reared up on her skirt. “Down, Sam,” he said.

“Oh, my.” She brushed at the skirt with her hand as if to rid it of germs while juggling Jesse in her arms. “Do you think it’s wise to have a dog in the house with the baby?”

He clenched his jaw. “Caroline doesn’t have a problem with it.”

They stared at each other and as always the battlefield lines were drawn. His way. Her way. No in-between.

“I’d better go,” she said stiffly.

“That’s a good idea.”

He reached for the baby, but Jesse had Grace’s blouse clutched in his fist. As he took Jesse, the baby didn’t let go. A button came undone, then another, revealing a lacy bra and a rounded breast.

Grace grabbed her blouse and Tuck tried to pry open Jesse’s little fingers. In his efforts, Tuck’s hand brushed against Grace’s soft, pliable skin. Her delicate perfume filled his senses and a jolt of awareness shot through him. He stared into Grace’s eyes and what he saw there shocked him.

Was she attracted to him?

Or was he attracted to her?

CHAPTER TWO

STARING INTO Jeremiah’s sensuous dark eyes, Grace felt as if she were teetering on the edge of something momentous. Her heart did a fancy two-step in her chest. All she had to do was reach out and touch him to feel the fire and warmth she saw in his eyes. That action would take her to places unknown and awaken…

As if sensing her need, his strong body tensed and she collected herself. She quickly kissed Jesse’s cheek and walked out, clutching her blouse together in her hand. A musky whiff of aftershave seemed to follow her.

Why did every encounter with Jeremiah turn out like this—bad? They just never made the connection that could make them friends. Or much of anything else. A family acquaintance—that was the sum total of their relationship.

Driving home, she tried to put the incident out of her mind.

At her apartment, Grace slipped out of her clothes, folded them neatly and laid them on a stack to take to the cleaners. Running a hand across her collarbone to her chest, she could still feel Jeremiah’s fingers against her skin. Her response to his touch had been a delicious sensation that melted her bones.

Had her eyes given her away? For four years now she’d wondered what it would feel like if he touched her intimately. Wonderful. Heavenly. And she tried very hard to hide it. She was good at hiding her emotions.

She wasn’t sure when she’d acquired that ability—probably when she was young and her parents would leave her and Caroline with the nanny while her father was campaigning or furthering his career. Caroline always spoke her mind, but Grace kept her feelings inside, wanting to be perfect for her father. Back then that had been important to her. Now being her father’s puppet was wearing a little thin.

Her work had always completed her, but lately she was feeling a restlessness she couldn’t explain. Or maybe she could. Her life that once filled her every need now instilled in her a sense of dissatisfaction. After much introspection, she recognized the cause. Somewhere along the way she’d lost sight of who she was. Her career was rock solid, but the woman in her was fighting for survival.

She knew that. And still she struggled.

She wasn’t a big success in the romance department. Men who found her attractive always wanted something from her—a job, a step up the ladder or an introduction to her father. Well, that wasn’t quite true. There had been men who had liked her for herself, but nothing serious had ever developed. She’d had a couple of flings in college, which left her wondering what the fuss was all about.

From an early age she knew she would follow in her father’s footsteps and become a lawyer. That’s what was expected of her and she never saw her life any other way. Her focus was on her career. After becoming a lawyer and with several years of experience under her belt, she took over the Whitten Law Firm, which had been held in trust for Stephen Whitten’s daughter. She started at the top of the ladder, but she had to fight every day to stay there.

Romance had taken a backseat in her life until she was introduced to Jeremiah Tucker. When she’d looked at his tall lean frame, chiseled features and dark penetrating eyes, her mouth and brain fell out of sync, which was very rare for her. As a lawyer, she was always in control. But the first time they met she’d insulted him. She hadn’t meant to. He just had a strange effect on her. She hadn’t realized until later that it was sexual attraction. Sadly, the feeling wasn’t something too familiar to her.

After Eli had introduced them, she questioned why anyone would call him Tuck when Jeremiah was such a pretty name. The way he’d looked at her spoke volumes, but being a Ranger he was very polite and never mentioned her rude behavior. After that, Grace had a hard time getting her foot out of her mouth in his presence. Something about Jeremiah always short-circuited her mouth and her brain.

How she wished he had the same attraction for her. But he thought she was bossy, uppity, neurotic and about as appealing as global warming. He tried to avoid her at all costs, which was no secret to her. With their connection to Eli and Caroline that wasn’t always possible, though. He tolerated her because of them.

Her fingers splayed across her chest. How could one touch make her feel so—she thought for a minute—so alive? Her skin felt warm and her senses danced like pixies drunk on cheap red wine.

She must be coming down with something, she thought as she slipped into lounging pajamas. Pixies drunk on cheap red wine. Ridiculous. One touch shouldn’t make her think such silly things. She wasn’t sixteen years old. She reached for her briefcase and headed to her study to work.

With her mind deep in legal issues, her hand rested on the spot he’d touched.

Damn you, Jeremiah.

TUCK LAY AWAKE wondering about the incident with Grace. They’d been thrown together at weddings, parties and family gatherings but tonight was different. She seemed different. He was different, too. He had to admit that. The shock of touching her soft skin had knocked him for a loop.

What had he expected her skin to feel like?

Annoyed with the stupid question, he flipped over. He made a point of keeping Grace at arm’s length. Now he wondered why he’d felt that need. The answer was easy. Grace was way out of his league and a neat freak, almost to the point of being obsessive. She drove him crazy.

Staring into the darkness he realized she was driving him crazy now. She’d left so quickly that he hadn’t had a chance to gather his thoughts or apologize. Just as well. He didn’t feel inclined to change the status quo of their relationship. Grace wasn’t a one-night stand or a woman he could walk away from without a guilty conscience. And he would eventually walk away. He somehow always did.

As he drifted into sleep, soft green eyes stared back at him.

Grace’s eyes.

THE NEXT MORNING Tuck went to his office early, checked his messages, made a couple of phone calls and then headed for the hospital. He met Sergeant Dale Scofield in the lobby. They shook hands.

“How are your officers?” Tuck asked.

“Great. Both are going to be fine. Darren’s wife is waiting to take him home this morning. Brian was hit in several places, but not in any vital organs. Thank God. The surgeon said he should recover completely.” The sergeant looked at Tuck. “I’m so glad you came on the scene when you did. Your quick action probably saved their lives. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Tuck said, feeling uncomfortable. He was a lawman. His actions came naturally and praise wasn’t required or easy to accept. “I’m glad I could help.”

“How’s the baby?” Dale asked, and Tuck was glad to change the subject.

“I’m on my way to check on him. Did you find out any info on the mother?”

“Yep. Nicole Harper is a fine piece of work. Her mother had the little boy until about three months ago. His name is Brady, by the way. She assured her mother she was clean and getting her life straight.”

“Is the grandmother going to take Brady?”

Dale shook his head. “No. She’s in the last stages of lung cancer. That’s why she let Nicole take the boy.”

“Are there any other relatives?”

Dale rubbed his jaw. “I haven’t had time to check. Our workload is bursting at the seams. CPS will handle it.”

“Do you mind if I lend a hand? I want to make sure Brady finds a good home.”

“Heck, no. That little boy needs all the help he can get.”

Tuck thought the same thing. “Do you have any info on Nicole or the men in the trailer?”

“We’ve received calls there before. The guy, Cliff Davis, is a small-time drug dealer with a temper. The calls were about drug deals and twice about him beating Nicole, but she refused to press charges. My officers interviewed a few neighbors and they said there was a steady stream of guys going into the trailer. They knew something wasn’t right, but didn’t want to get on Davis’s bad side.”

“Did no one think about Brady, an innocent kid in the middle of that environment?”

“Evidently not. Sad, isn’t it?” The sergeant checked his watch. “I’ve got to get to the station. Thanks again for your help yesterday.”

They shook hands again. “No problem.”

Tuck took the elevator to the pediatric ward. Opal was at the nurses’ station so he walked over to her.

“Ranger Tucker.” She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and handed a file to a nurse. “I was just fixing to call you.” Opal’s dark hair was threaded with gray and the lines on her face denoted a life of toil and anguish—all given selflessly.

“How’s Brady?” he asked.

“Know his name, do you?”

“I met Sergeant Scofield in the lobby.”

She sighed. “This one slipped through the cracks.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nicole Harper has been in the system for a while and we slipped up. After the last visit, the caseworker filed for a random drug check. She suspected something wasn’t right, but she became ill about three weeks ago. No one was reassigned to Nicole’s case and the test wasn’t done. This is unacceptable.”

Tuck liked this woman. Fighting for children was her top priority. “What’s the story on Nicole Harper?”

“She was raised by a single mom and had a pretty normal childhood until she got into high school. Then she started doing drugs and finally dropped out. She went to work at a fast-food place and got involved with the manager. When she became pregnant, she tried to stay clean, but right before Brady was born the boyfriend, Braden Hollis, died in an auto accident. Nicole spiraled out of control then. Wilma, her mother, couldn’t handle her. Nicole delivered Brady and quickly got back with her old friends and the drug scene. CPS took Brady away from her when a motel clerk called and reported her for prostitution and doing drugs with the baby in the room. Wilma was granted temporary custody.”

“Didn’t CPS try to get her some help?”

Opal touched his face. “You sweet man, I bet you believe in fairy tales, too.”

“What’s wrong in believing there’s a better life? Sometimes it just takes one person to accomplish that.”

“Nicole Harper got hooked on drugs fast and furious and that’s all she thought about—how to get more drugs.”

“Still…”

“She was offered help many times. She always refused. Six months in jail changed her some. When she got out, all she wanted was her kid. Wilma was battling lung cancer and thought Nicole had changed. But it wasn’t long before she was back with the old crowd. It’s hard to break that cycle once it starts.”

“Why wasn’t Brady taken into custody then?”

“Did I mention that Nicole is a very good liar and knew how to put on a show? I love my kid. My kid is the most important part of my life. Yada. Yada. Yada. Once the caseworker leaves, she’s hitting the bars looking for guys and drugs. And the kid is usually left home by himself, or worse, taken along. We just never could catch her at it—until it was too late. We have so many cases it’s difficult to keep a constant vigil on these girls.”

Tuck knew that. It was just a sad scenario that the kids were the ones who paid. “How’s Brady this morning?”

“He was so violent in the E.R. that they had to sedate him. He was just scared. They checked his vitals, started an IV and did blood work. Nobody knows how long he’s been neglected and we have no idea what he’s been eating. He could have even been drinking from the toilet.”

Tuck winced.

“I’ve seen it before. He may only be fourteen months old but even at that age a kid fights for survival. He could have digested nonfood items, even toxic items. They’re testing for drug exposure, anemia and lead poisoning. The main concern was dehydration, so that’s the reason for the IV. They want to keep his electrolytes under control. Since his sores are infected, they’ve started a round of antibiotics through the IV.”

“What’s going to happen to him?”

“I’m on my way to talk to Wilma. I know she won’t be able to take him, but there might be a relative who wants to raise him.” Opal threw the strap of her big purse over her shoulder. “How would you like to come with me, Ranger Tucker? Get an up close and personal view of life’s real fairy tales.”

“I’d love to, but first I’d like to take a look at Brady, if that’s okay.”

“Sure. Follow me.”

They walked across the hall to a room full of baby beds. A large glass window gave the nurses a clear view of each crib from the nurses’ station. Two nurses were attending to the needs of children with various ailments. Opal stopped at a bed against the wall.

Tuck removed his hat and stared down at Brady. He lay on his stomach, completely naked except for a small blanket covering his upper body. His bottom was bloodred and had ointment spread over it.

“They’ll put a diaper on him as soon as he wakes up,” Opal said. “They’ve debrided his wounds and applied a barrier cream.”

Brady’s hair had been shaved off and Tuck saw the infected sores on his scalp, too. He fought the anger churning in his stomach.

Opal glanced at him. “They had to shave his head to clean the sores and remove dead tissue. There are sores between his toes, too. It had been a while since he’d had a bath.”

Tuck kept staring at the little boy. He slept peacefully, as a baby should. At that moment Tuck vowed that Brady would have a decent home and never be neglected again.

WILMA HARPER LIVED in the projects on a cul-de-sac. Tuck parked his car and followed Opal inside the brick duplex. A neighbor and a hospice nurse were there. Wilma sat in a recliner with an oxygen tank beside her, gasping for every breath. She’d been told of her daughter’s death and held a box of Kleenex in one hand, her eyes red.

In her early forties, Wilma looked twice her age. Her pallid skin, skeletal frame and sunken eyes denoted a woman who was terminally ill.

Tuck and Opal sat on a worn brown sofa. He took in the room. The walls were made of cinder blocks and painted a pale tan, which was yellowing. Linoleum squares of the same color covered the floor. Some of the floor had eroded from wear, leaving the stark concrete visible.

Opal was right. This was the flip side of a fairy tale.

“How’s Brady?” Wilma immediately asked Opal.

“He’s going to be fine,” Opal replied, and introduced Tuck.

“This is all my fault,” Wilma wailed, then sucked in a whiff of oxygen.

“No, it isn’t,” Opal told her. “Nicole is your daughter and you trusted her.”

“I spoiled her. That’s the problem.”

“Ms. Harper,” Tuck spoke up. “We’re trying to do the best thing for Brady now.”

“Yes.” Wilma sniffed. “I want that, too.”

“Is there a relative who might be able to take Brady?”

Wilma shook her head. “My relatives are…struggling to make ends meet. I can’t think of anyone…who can give Brady the kind of care he needs.”

“What about Brady’s father’s family?” Opal asked.

Wilma took a breath of oxygen. “After Braden’s death, his parents divorced and remarried. They have new families and…I don’t think they’d be willing to take him.”

The hospice nurse handed Wilma a glass of water and she sipped at it, her hands shaking. “I wish I could take him. He needs me.” Tears rolled from her eyes.

The neighbor, a black lady in her thirties, rubbed her arm. “Don’t get upset, Wilma.”

“My baby girl is dead,” Wilma wheezed, and sucked in more oxygen. “Seems like yesterday she was watching cartoons and eating Fruit Loops.”

“I know,” the lady consoled her.

Wilma gasped for air then looked directly at Tuck. “Please find someone to love my grandson. He deserves that.”