The Hero (Thunder Point #3)(11)

“Take care of yourself, kid. I like it when she bosses me around.”

“You are so whipped. What are the rest of us men gonna think, you letting a woman get the upper hand like this? You should be ashamed.”

Cooper grabbed his mop. “I guess Eve would never get away with that, huh?” he said, mopping.

“That’s different,” Landon said with a big smile. “Eve is so not my sister. And when Eve is happy, I’m happy.”

“There you go,” Cooper said.

Rawley came into the bar with a rack of glasses, silently sliding them under the bar.

“Hey, Rawley, how’s it going?” Sarah asked. “Your cousin still around?”

Rawley stopped short as if he had to think about that. “Huh? Oh. Yeah. Still at my house.”

“Not crowding you, huh?” Sarah asked. “Been a couple of weeks now, hasn’t it?”

“I dunno. Maybe ten days or so,” he said. “She don’t bother me none. Kinda nice, to tell the truth. Remember, I had my dad full-time for years—a young woman and little child don’t take half the care my dad did. She helps out around the place. I haven’t done a load of dirty clothes since she’s been here. Besides, she doesn’t know where she wants to go yet. She said she likes it around here. Well, she likes Elmore, anyway.”

“Where’s she from, again?”

“Seattle. But I don’t think she wants to go back there. Bad memories, I gather. She’s been talking about getting work. Hard deal when you have a kid. And there ain’t nothin’ in Elmore.”

“What kind of work?”

And suddenly Rawley seemed to light up. Shine. “She can do all kinda things. Cooking, cleaning, office work, you name it. She got herself some college degree right before she got in a relationship that didn’t work out. She studied education. She was gonna be a teacher for the real little kids, or something like that. I guess that’s what makes her such a good mom. She’s a fine mother. That little Mercy—she’s something. Real smart, real nosy.”

“Well, Rawley, I think you like having them around,” Sarah said.

Rawley shrugged. “It’s okay. I never thought I’d know what it felt like to be a grandpa.” He shrugged again. “I don’t hate it.” Then he turned and went back into the kitchen.

Sarah, Landon and Cooper exchanged smiles.

Rawley brought a second rack of clean glasses into the bar and Sarah said, “So—has your cousin looked for work around Thunder Point?”

“Not that I know about. You got something?”

“No. But Saturday is Dr. Grant’s open house for his new clinic. You should bring her. It’s not exactly a job fair, but everyone in town will be there. She could talk to people. Find out if anyone knows of any jobs or any child care or babysitting. In fact, maybe someone needs child care or babysitting. Wouldn’t that be convenient?”

Rawley thought about that for a minute. Then he said, “I’ll tell her. But I’m not much for parties or a lot of people.”

“Tell her, I’d be glad to take her,” Sarah offered. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

* * *

Devon hadn’t had a typical childhood, but it had been a safe and happy one. Devon’s mother, Rhonda, was a nurse who became close to her neighbor, Mary. Mary immediately took Rhonda under her wing knowing Rhonda was pregnant and alone. And since Mary was a day care provider working out of her home, it only followed that after Devon was born, Mary watched her while Rhonda worked. And Rhonda named Mary as Devon’s guardian, should anything happen.

And something did indeed happen. Poor Rhonda was struck by a drunk driver as she waited at the bus stop on her way home from work one evening. Devon had been only nine months old.

Devon knew Aunt Mary was not her real aunt, was not her mother’s older sister. What she didn’t know was that Mary waited tensely for years for some distant, unknown family member to appear and lay claim to Devon. She clung to that will and birth certificate with a miser’s zeal, ready to do battle with anyone who might try to take the little girl away.

Mary was old enough to be Devon’s grandmother, but she was a popular figure in the neighborhood, at their church and in Devon’s schools. She was kind, nurturing, energetic and helpful, and Devon’s friends had always loved her—especially the pizza parties and sleepovers. Mary was a great volunteer and she took responsibility as any parent would, participating in field trips and fund-raising, and when Devon was a cheerleader or on a team, Mary had never missed a game or meet. Never.

Mary had always told Devon she had pluck. And that she was tough. She was a survivor. She said the same things even when crises like Devon not making the championship girls volleyball team, or junior varsity cheerleading squad, or having to make do with a partial scholarship, instead of getting the big one. “I just won’t make it,” teenage Devon had wailed.

And Mary had said, “Girl, you will rise above this, and fast. You’re strong. Do you have any idea how many times people have to start over and make a new path? For myself, I can’t count the number of times! I buried two husbands before you were born! Lost the first in Vietnam and the second to cancer! And just when I thought my life would slide gentle into old age, who comes along but Miss Devon!” And then she would laugh and laugh. “The Lord blesses me with work and new ideas every day of my life!”