Twenty-Six

 

 

 

 

 

The future for Colt and Naomi seemed fraught with bickering girls who acted more like sisters as the days progressed.

While getting ready for Gretchen’s get-together, Tibby stormed out of her room. “You have to do something about Maddie. She’s driving me crazy. Look what she did to my new sweater.” Tibby held up her new pullover and threw it at Maddie. “She stretched it out trying to put it on the dog. Now it’s ruined.”

“Deke was cold,” Maddie said in her defense. “And your sweater was right there.”

Tibby glared at the younger girl. “That’s not a reason. Leave my stuff alone. Stay out of my room from now on.” For added weight to make her point, she decided to get personal. “Please tell me you’re not wearing that stupid tutu outside this house. It looks ridiculous. You look ridiculous. We’re not going to a costume party.”

Insulted, Maddie stuck out her lower lip. “I want to wear it. And you’re not the boss of me. And I’m bringing Gertie with me to the party. She can wear a tutu if she wants. And I’m carrying her in my bag. And you can’t stop me!”

Naomi played referee. “Maddie does not look ridiculous. What’s the harm of letting her wear it? She looks like a miniature ballerina.”

Maddie eyes warmed at the praise. “That’s what I want to be when I grow up.”

Colt rolled his eyes. “Are we done fighting yet? Because if not, we could always stay home tonight and watch It’s a Wonderful Life for the third time.”

That threat brought silence and got the girls to finish getting ready.

“Good call,” Naomi muttered. “I’m impressed with your creativity. No eleven-year-old wants to sit through Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed all over again.”

“Hey, I must’ve watched that movie seventy-five times when I was a kid. If I have to do it one more time, I’d rather go get a tooth pulled.”

“Ugh. That reminds me to schedule appointments next year for everyone’s dental visits. We’ll need them too after all the chocolate and cookies Gretchen has planned for tonight. I got a preview of the dessert cart when I dropped off the punch bowl earlier. I’m gaining five pounds just thinking about it.”

Gretchen’s Christmas Eve party turned into a community event held in the grand foyer of the library. It was the only place big enough to hold so many. The doors opened at five that afternoon with a steady stream of kids and grownups.

Glittered decorations hung from the ceiling in spirals of gold and silver. Tables were decorated with red and green linen tablecloths. A fourteen-foot Christmas tree stood in the center with little gift boxes underneath decorated in green wrapping for a little boy and red for a little girl. Anything in gold wrapping was for a teenager. 

Simon and Gilly stood near the doorway with Gretchen and John greeting parents and kids, directing them to whichever activity suited their little ones the best.

With a carnival atmosphere, the children could play games like toss the bean bag, and win tickets that could be redeemed for prizes. Or they could sit at tables and build projects out of Legos or other kinds of blocks.

Either activity got them a ticket and a prize.

Gretchen, the overindulgent grandmother, had put out platters of every kind of sweet she could imagine. Gingerbread men and women, all different kinds of sugar cookies dripping with red and green icing, cakes of every flavor frosted with fudge or buttercream, and pies from pumpkin to cherry. The bounty was a child’s dream and a parent’s nightmare. The sugar rush alone would probably last for hours.

At first sight of the table, Naomi elbowed Colt in the ribs. “Told you there were too many sweets. The girls will have stomach aches by eight o’clock.”

“I’m not going near that stuff. Where are the hot dogs and burgers?”

“Out on the terrace. That way,” Naomi said, pointing outside on a wide veranda. “Grab one for me.”

The sheer volume of noise shook the old library to the rafters. There wasn’t a quiet corner to be found anywhere.

John Dickinson looked on proudly as Gretchen ladled out red punch into paper cups. “She talked about this for weeks. I’m not sure why it was so important to her. But she wants to make it an annual event.”

“Looks like she’s on to something,” Colt reiterated. “The kids will be talking about this until New Year’s Eve. What’s in the packages underneath the tree?”

“The boys get any one of about twenty different kinds of Matchbox cars. The girls get a five-inch doll that Gretchen calls tag-alongs. A woman back in Newport makes them all year round. Gretchen bought her entire stash for just this occasion. The gold packages have handmade Christmas ornaments made by another friend of hers.”

“How do you feel about finally getting this shindig off the ground?” Colt asked.

“Anything that makes Gretchen happy, makes me happy.”

Colt wondered if he ever sounded that corny when he talked about Naomi. Nah, John probably sounded like that because they were getting on in years, sentimental about each other. That was it. He spotted Naomi across the room helping a child he didn’t recognize, a boy of about four, rip into his little wrapped box.

Did their future mean more kids, more noise, he wondered? As if she knew he was thinking about her, Naomi looked up to wave at him and smile. That warm-hearted grin of hers had enthralled him and captivated him from day one. He had so much to say to her, saved up from years of not having anyone special.

They stayed until the party wound down and even helped clean up. But when the last of the trash had been taken out, Colt looked around for Maddie and didn’t see her. He asked Tibby and Naomi to help him look. After searching for five minutes, Tibby found her in the Storytime section of the library, curled into a ball, fast asleep. Nearby was a book with a ballerina on the cover that she’d obviously taken off the shelf. 

“Come on, tiny dancer,” Colt mumbled. “Let’s get you home.”

They walked outside to Naomi’s small SUV. But instead of Naomi getting behind the wheel, she handed off the keys to Colt. “I’m too tired to drive. You do it. I’ll get Maddie settled in the back.”

“I’ll just ride up front then,” Tibby said and crawled into the front passenger seat next to Colt.

But when he started the car, he noticed Tibby had tears in her eyes. “What’s wrong? Did someone say something to you to make you cry?”

“No. it’s just that…I don’t want to leave.”

From the backseat, Naomi laid a hand on her shoulder. “Honey, the party’s over. Everyone’s gone home. We’re almost the last ones to leave.”

“No, I don’t mean the party. I mean here with you guys. I don’t want to live with anyone else. I want to stay with you. This is the best place I’ve been since my mom died.” Tibby put her head down on the dash. “I know I sometimes lose patience with Maddie. Don’t hold that against me. Please. I love it here with all of you. Please let me stay.”

Colt shifted in his seat. “What’s this all about? You heard what Kinsey’s been telling us all along. This adoption thing just takes a while. Six months. Four interviews. We’re not even halfway there. You have to be patient.”

Tibby glanced up in full-blown panic mode. “But you could change your minds. At any time. I just don’t want to get settled in here and you guys decide I’m not right for you and send me away, send me off to some awful place again. I might not act happy, but I am. I don’t care if Maddie ruins my sweater or if the dogs make too much noise. I love it here. I love having my own room. I don’t want to leave! Not ever. Please don’t make me.”

Colt reached over and brought her in for a hug. “You’re not going anywhere, and neither are we. Stop worrying yourself like this. We’re stuck with you and you’re stuck with us.”

Naomi tried to blink back tears. “Either I’m too tired or that actually made sense in a sweet kind of way.”

“You’re not just saying that?” Tibby asked.

“No. We’re not. We’re in this for good, for better or worse. We’re not quitters. So stop worrying. Tomorrow’s Christmas. You’ll feel better when you spend a holiday with your new family and it starts to sink in, knowing that it’s forever.”

“Then would it be okay if I called you…Dad? I don’t think my real dad would mind one bit.”

Colt put a hand on his heart. “That would be…awesome. Are you sure?”

“I am. And Naomi. I want to call her Mom.”

“That’s…amazing…that would be amazing…Tibby,” Naomi said from the backseat, this time letting the tears roll down her cheeks.

When they reached Naomi’s house, the dogs greeted them in eager delight, flitting from one person to the next. Colt carried Maddie into her bedroom, took off her shoes, and put her to bed still wearing her tutu. He left Deke in Maddie’s room while Ginger followed Tibby into hers.

“Are you okay?” Naomi asked Tibby as the girl got ready for bed. 

“I’m better now. I’m glad I laid it all out so we all know how I feel.”

“Try not to get so stressed about all this,” Naomi offered as she kissed the girl’s cheek. “You’ve been through a lot these past few weeks. It’s all beginning to catch up with you. A good night’s sleep will help you get your balance back. Now go to sleep.”

From the doorway, Colt stood back and watched the scene play out. Later, he told Naomi, “Never in a million years would I have thought Tibby would be afraid like she is.”

“She’s just a kid no matter how tough she tries to act. We have to remember that.”

“Right now, all I remember is how tired I am.”

They got ready for bed, knowing tomorrow would be just as crazy as today had been.

 

 

Visions of sugar plums weren’t exactly dancing in Colt’s head when he was jolted awake by the sound of the dogs growling and having a fit to get outside. He grabbed his jeans and stuck one leg into one side and then the other.

He bumped into Tibby in the hallway.

“The dogs woke me up,” Tibby whispered.

“Me too. What’s wrong?”

“There’s…a car…parked out front…it’s not supposed to be here…Deke and Ginger were clawing at the front door. They know it too.”

“You go back to bed,” Colt demanded, plopping down on the hall bench to pull on his boots. He turned around to the hall closet and got down his weapons. He hid the nine-millimeter at the back of his waist and kept the Sig Sauer in his hand.

Real panic crossed Tibby’s face. “You’re going out there? You can’t. Don’t. Don’t go. Please.”

“Tibby, if you saw someone outside who is trespassing, I need to find out who it is. Now stay here.” When she didn’t budge, Colt snapped. “Do what you’re told! Go to your room and stay there until I tell you it’s okay to come out.”

“What’s wrong with the dogs?” Naomi groaned, half awake.

“Watch the kids. There’s someone outside.”

“You’re going out there without a shirt…?”

But that seemed the least of their problems when Tibby blurted out the rest. “It’s Lars Hudson from Boise, okay?  He must’ve found me and wants to take me back. That’s his green van parked at the curb. I recognize it.”

Colt narrowed his eyes. “Hudson? Your foster family Hudson? The one who’s under indictment for child abuse? That man’s not taking anybody anywhere.” He angled back to Naomi. “Call Eastlyn, she’s the one on call after midnight. Tell her what’s going on.”

With that, Colt opened the door and stepped out onto the creaky porch, the dogs going nuts beside him.

Bare-chested, a cold mist greeted him. Colt could see his own breath in the air. The old wood cracked under his weight as he went down the steps.

Docile Ginger let out a low growl while Deke bared his teeth, both alerting Colt the trespasser was nearby.

He spotted a tall, shadowy figure, a rather heavy-set man, walking fast away from the backyard and into the front yard, doing his best to make it to the green van.

Colt waited until the man got closer before making himself known. “Stop, Hudson! Police officer!” Just as he got those words out of his mouth, Colt caught a glimpse of a hot fusee in Hudson’s hand.

Before Colt could react, the man hurled his tiny homemade bomb device around the side of the house. An orange burst of fire erupted like a mini explosion at the corner.

The man started to run. Colt went after him, bringing him down on the concrete driveway, a direct hit on Hudson’s nose. The force of the cement knocked the man unconscious.  

Colt patted him down, removing several more explosive devices and an old handgun from his jacket pockets. While he cuffed the man, he looked up to see Tibby and Naomi had turned on the water hose to douse the flames. Both were standing in bare feet battling the small blaze that had caught the weeds on fire but failed to ignite the house.

Eastlyn’s cruiser pulled into the driveway and cut the siren. “I’ll say one thing for you, Del Rio, you never have a dull moment of downtime, do you?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, it’s a feast of plenty around here,” Colt snarked as he brought the man to his feet. Colt got a better look at Tibby’s tormentor—unshaven, unkempt, slovenly dressed, but sporting a Rolex watch.  “Meet Lars Hudson, wanted on felony child abuse in Idaho. Now we can add felony arson here in California. I’m pressing charges.”

Eastlyn sized the guy up. “This sure ain’t Santa Claus.”

“I’ll take him down and help you book him. I need to put on a shirt first. It’s freezing out here.”

“No need. You stay here with your family. I got this jerk,” Eastlyn offered. “But what’s he doing here? If you tell me he was trying to get at Tibby, so she won’t testify against him, I’ll add witness tampering to the charges.”

“Good idea. Throw the book at him. I’m certain Hudson wanted all of us to be in the house when it caught fire. He didn’t count on the dogs waking us up. Or Tibby recognizing his old Ford van. He didn’t even make a pretense of trying to hide what he was here for. I’ll take pictures of all his bomb-making accessories, then bag them as evidence. There’s probably a lot more stuff in that van.”