Page 6 of Guard Dog

My back is a mess after I squished myself into Peony’s bed last night. I didn’t want to be too far away. Thankfully, she slept through everything. On my way to the kitchen, I glance out the window and see a familiar pick-up truck parked behind my car. It seems that after JD and Deke investigated the property last night, Deke stayed behind as a guard dog.

If I’d known what he was planning, I would have invited him to stay inside. In my bed.

When I open the front door to invite him in for coffee, the truck engine roars to life, and he backs down the driveway out of sight.

“Coward,” I mutter. I don’t have time to call him on it, though. I have one day off left before starting work on Monday, which will also be Peony’s first day at her new daycare. I can’t believe they had a spot open, but I’m not about to turn it down.

What I don’t expect is another vehicle to arrive right on Deke’s heels. For a second, I think Rick is back yet a-fucking-gain. I get that Keith’s teammates want to help, but Rick has stuck like glue. I need him to give me space: four states’ worth would be fantastic. Every time I turn around, he’s offering tohelp with Keith’s papers or the banking or the packing. I know he’s the executor but it’s too much. It’s not like Deke. Rick’s being ingratiating and won’t take no for an answer.

But fate smiles on me and I recognize the little, bright red compact zipping up the driveway. “Sweet pea, Auntie Romy’s here.”

“Ba!”

“Exactly! Let’s go say hi.”

Romy has hugs and kisses for both of us, then proudly pops the trunk to reveal bags of groceries from a twenty-four-hour store in Bismarck. “For your pantry. As for the rest of it, if you aren’t unpacked yet, you will be by the end of the day.”

“Romy, you’re the best sister ever.”

“And the most modest. Don’t forget to praise my modesty.”

I am so glad she’s planning to make the move to Lonesome with me. She was my number one cheerleader after my marriage to Keith, and after I found out I was pregnant with Peony. Now that she’s out of the navy, she deserves a fresh start too. I can only hope she finds a job quickly, but with her skills it shouldn’t take long.

First, we put the food away. Second, I give Romy a tour of the house, which she loves on sight. Third, she claps her hands together and says, “We’ll unpack the bathroom before the bedrooms. We should have those done by lunch. Sandwiches and chips, then we tackle the kitchen. Then the sweet pea and I will do the living room and whatever’s left while you take the rest of the afternoon to get everything settled before you start work tomorrow.”

“Everything settled?” I parrot.

“I recognized the pick-up as it turned out of the driveway, Violet.”

“It’s not what you think, Rosemary,” I protest.

“Why the H-E-double hockey sticks not?”

I love that she refuses to curse in front of her niece, even though Peony can’t talk yet. “He’s caught up in Keith.”

“Then straighten the man out. You know that you can’t keep holding on to hope that he’ll move on.”

I hate it when Romy is right. Which is most of the time. But in this case, I know she speaks the truth. It’s time for me to grab tight or let go completely. “Are you sure you want to handle Peony on your own this afternoon?”

“Absolutely. We’ll unpack and explore the yard and have an adventure. Sound good, Peony?”

“Ba!”

I want to talk to Deke. I need to. “Where did you say we were starting?”

“Bathroom, then bedrooms.”

It took me some time to find myself, but when I did, I also discovered that I work fast when properly motivated. We blow through the bathroom, bedrooms and kitchen and finish lunch before noon. Peony helps by banging her keychain against every cupboard door and “unlocking” it before we’re allowed to put my pots and pans away.

I need to see Deke to settle everything before I start work tomorrow morning. “I’ll be back later.”

“Take as much time as both of you need, Violet. You only have one chance at this conversation. Make it count,” Romy advises.

I’ve never been to Deke’s place, but the directions on my GPS are clear. I hope he doesn’t have company, but it won’t stop me if he does. Luckily, the only vehicle in his driveway is his. I park around the corner; there’s no reason to advertise my presence in case anyone should drive by.

I stride to his front door and ring the doorbell.

Deke answers. His worn jeans are only white threads in patches, and the collar of his U.S. Navy T-shirt gapes like hiscollarbones are too hot to touch. I’m in agreement. “We need to talk.”

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