A Home Come True. Cheryl Harper

don’t think she’s got what you’d call ‘natural landscaping ability’ but she’s got something.” Jen smiled up at him and then, almost as if she realized she was doing it, the smile slipped away to be replaced by a serious frown. “Sarah’s a friend. You get her the answers she needs and we don’t have a problem.”

      Luke tipped his head back and studied the clouds drifting lazily overhead. Even the blue sky seemed bluer here. “I’m out of options on her dad’s case. A hearing will be set. If the judge determines there’s enough evidence to proceed with a criminal trial, and he will, Bobby will get jail time. Then there will be civil cases, too, on behalf of his employees.” He stared at Jen. “She’s going to have a long, hard time with him. Might’ve been better if he’d stayed gone.”

      “Then why did you hound her the way you did?” Jen challenged, her shoulders square. She was ready for a fight. Under normal circumstances, he could take a petite female with one hand tied behind his back. In her case, he wasn’t so sure. She almost vibrated with the power of her conviction. She’d battle until she was out of breath. For the right thing, she’d battle until she was spent, or worse.

      In this case, the right thing was friendship. That was attractive, even if she appeared to be considering his jugular in a worrisome fashion.

      So, he answered slowly, “It. Was. My job.” He held both hands out. “I’m going to do my best to get the answers I need. I have to. Justice is what’s important.” He stared hard at her. “And sometimes justice means doing the tough things to get those answers I need. The people I serve depend on me to do that. She had the answers. That’s all.”

      Jen narrowed her eyes. He expected her to hit him with angry words. Instead, she tightened her lips. “Use that focus for her now. Get some answers on the shelter break-in and we might let you live.”

      Luke snorted. “Threatening an officer of the law?”

      “I’m rich. I’ll hire a very good lawyer and make sure he can get in behind my fancy fence while you’re stuck on the outside looking in.” Then she slipped the leash she had hanging off the mailbox onto Hope. With one last glare, she turned and marched down the long driveway that led to her nice house.

      “If I’m looking in, does that mean I’m not dead after all?” he muttered. Luke tried to calculate the square feet of calm and silence that a house like that would hold and then sighed as he crossed the street.

      Back in the Hollister house, Mari had wisely taken her weapon with her and disappeared. Joseph was sprawled in front of the television playing some space game, keeping up a running commentary through his microphone with whoever he was competing against. His sister Renita’s head was bopping along with the pop song she had blasting through her headphones as she studied. Renita was all boy bands while Camila preferred hair bands, but both of his sisters liked the volume turned up. How his mother could stand it so calmly was a mystery he was going to investigate one day for his own sanity.

      Luke bent over Renita’s shoulder to read the title. “British poets of the twentieth century.” The idea of having to wade through that sent a shiver down Luke’s spine. He’d scraped by in school, but his sister was going to graduate at the top of her class or die trying. When she brushed her braids over one shoulder and pulled her headphones away to ask, “Did you need me?”

      Luke squeezed her shoulder. “A little light reading?”

      She rolled her dark brown eyes. “Paper due next week. Since I plan to be babysitting for the Monroes every night and their twins prefer to talk to me, rather than sleep, I need to get a head start.” She tapped her pen on the paper in front of her. “Notes for the organization of my soon-to-be brilliant exploration of the effect of war on poets.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Even Mrs. Jones was impressed with my topic and she’s heard them all.”

      Luke bet she had. “And how’s math?”

      Renita tipped her chin down. “You mean, how is trigonometry?” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m pretty sure Mr. Wilson thinks girls should be learning how to cook or something.” This time she didn’t roll her eyes. Luke knew she’d heard worse.

      “Must eat him up that you aced his test.”

      She raised both hands and clapped. “Yes. It does.” Her eyes sparkled as she brushed each shoulder defiantly. “So I’ma keep doing it.”

      Luke motioned toward Joseph who was now shouting into the microphone attached to his headphones. “Think you could help the runt with whatever he’s got?”

      “I tried.” Renita shrugged a shoulder. “Couldn’t hear me over the chip on his shoulder.” She stared up at Luke, her genuine concern easy to read. Renita had been with the Hollisters for almost five years, long enough to understand the difference between fosters and family. “Kid’s mad about the move.”

      That was his diagnosis, too. They’d all been through it. He, Camila and Renita had all learned what real family could be. Joseph would, too. “Know anything about a Ms. Neil? A teacher at your school?”

      When Renita straightened in her seat, he knew he’d made an error. “Why? Is she hot stuff?”

      A big error. “Only if you count her temper. She’s our neighbor.”

      Renita tapped her pen on the table. “She must teach geometry, maybe algebra. Only Wilson teaches trig. Too bad. I could have put in a good word for you.” She waggled her eyebrows at him again.

      “There are no good words strong enough to sway her, I’m sure.” Based on his few encounters with Jen Neil, Luke would say she had backbone and enough loyalty for a dozen people. “Still, it’s helpful to know the neighbors.” Luke pointed at his sister’s headphones. “No rest for the brilliant. Back at it.”

      She winked. “Sorry about leaving my bike out on the driveway. Won’t happen again, bro.” She pulled his hand until he leaned down so that she could hug his neck. “I forget sometimes.”

      If there was any sign that Renita had crossed over, become a full Hollister, that was it. Forgetting as if she truly were Connie’s baby.

      Luke patted her back, awkward with the hugs as always, and tapped her book. When she stuck her nose in between the pages in an exaggerated move, he wagged his finger at her and then followed the quiet sound of running water into the kitchen.

      His mother was bent over the sink, washing dishes. “We have a dishwasher for that.”

      “I’m better at it than any machine.” His mother handed him a dripping plate. “And now I have you to dry. We’ll be done in no time.”

      Since he’d been heading to the peaceful deck that lined the house, Luke was less than thrilled, but he refused to sound like Joseph.

      “Have you missed Mari?” he asked casually.

      “She was with you. Said very clearly Luke before she hit the door at a dead run. Now she’s under the table.” Connie motioned with her chin. “I assume she’s waiting to defend herself against whatever you’re going to tell me she did.”

      Luke bent his knees to stare at his niece. She was pretending not to listen but not well.

      “Introduced herself to the neighbor at a dead run.” Luke opened the cabinet to stack the dried plates inside.

      They both turned to look at Mari, who said very clearly, “Dog.”

      His mother sighed. “Of course. I should have known that she’d be unable to resist for much longer. Every day when the crazy rich lady comes out to get her mail, Mari watches the window like her favorite cartoon. Kid’s dog crazy.”

      Luke continued to dry and stack as he thought about how to bring up the subject. With Mari listening, the whole conversation could be dangerous.

      “I guess it’s time to think about adopting a c-a-n-i-n-e,” his mother said, spelling out the last word. They both glanced down at Mari. She was watching