Shifting Dreams (9 page)

“Come on, Bear.” Another hand pulled Aaron’s arm away and Caleb looked over his shoulder, annoyed to have been interrupted. “We need to go home. Now.”

This was definitely Jena’s other son. The dark suspicious eyes that watched him with intelligent caution. The thick, dark hair and angled planes of a face that was distinctly boyish, but familiar, nonetheless.
 

Caleb held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Chief Gilbert.”

The older boy—who must have been Low, the eleven-year-old—ignored his hand and nodded. “I know. Come on, Bear. Dev’s going to take us home.”

Caleb hadn’t even noticed Devin standing behind the boys. The deputy called out to Jena, “Is that cool, Jena? I can drop them off on my way out.”

Jena smiled as she slid two plates over the pass. “Thanks, Dev. Appreciate it. Low, you have your key?”

“Yeah, Mom.”

“I’ll call Nana McCann to check on you in a little while.”

Low gave a distinctly adolescent sigh. “It’s fine, Mom.”

There was a moment then, a quick, heated moment with mother and son staring at each other across the room. A tumbleweed might have rolled between the booths. The tension held for a moment before a slight flush crossed the older boy’s cheeks and he said, “I’ll make sure to look for her.”

Jena said, “Good. Make sure you guys do any homework for the weekend before I get home. You can ask Nana for help if you need it.”

“Okay.”
 

Jena crooked a finger at the boy and he walked behind the counter. She bent down, whispered in his ear, and Low’s face flushed with pleasure.

“Promise?” he said.

“Promise. Now go take care of your brother. I’ll see you a little later.”

She was tough, but not harsh. The affection in the boys’ faces was clear and she watched them with an expression that reminded him a little of his cousin Stephanie, who was a single mom of three back in Albuquerque. Steph and her kids were one of the few reasons he’d had a hard time leaving, but he knew she understood.

Low and Aaron rushed out the door followed by Devin, already talking on the phone. Caleb turned back to Jena, who was filling three drink orders. “You’re a good mom.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “Get that from a five-minute conversation, Chief?”

“Didn’t even take that long. I’m a trained investigator.”

“Ha!” Jena passed the drinks to a girl who was serving the booths and took the ticket she handed her and passed it to the cook. “I’m a busy mom, that’s for sure.”

“Two boys will do that.”

“You have any kids?”

“No. My ex didn’t want any. I have a lot of cousins though, and most of them do.”

“Hmm.” She started refilling ketchup bottles.

“Jena?”

“Yes?”

He leaned forward, pushing his empty plate to the side. He’d drawn out his lunch as long as he could, but he had to get back to the station. “You’re pretty busy, huh?”

She smirked. “That’s not what you really want to ask me.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

He caught her eye and the woman actually stopped rushing around for a minute. “Go out to dinner with me,” he said.

She took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. “Where, exactly? Here? It’s the only restaurant in town.”

“Get a drink with me at The Cave.”

“Where I work at night?”

“Every night?”

She sighed. “Caleb…”

“I like the way you say my name,” he said in a low voice. He could see her bite the corner of her lip. “I like the way you run your place and the way you talk to your boys. I like the way you kiss—”

She slapped a hand over his mouth and glanced around the diner. He didn’t care who heard them. He grinned beneath her hand and tried to nip at her fingers, tasting a bit of ketchup.
 

“Ugh!” She turned and went to wash her hands at the sink behind the counter. “Boys.”

“Go out with me.”

“I’m not going out with you. There’s a reason I don’t date.”

“Never?”

“Never. I’m busy. I’ve got too many responsibilities and not enough time for the life I have. I may like the way you look, Chief Gilbert—”

“You like my boots, too. Don’t lie.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t date.”

“So I’m going to have to settle for week after week of flirtatious lunches with my new landlady?” He stood and grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, peeling off a few bills before he set them on the counter and reached for his hat.

Her eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re not coming in here every day, are you?”

Caleb cocked his head. “I’m thinking about it.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not? That was some great coleslaw.”

Her mouth gaped open for a moment before she snapped it shut. “You’re…”

“Handsome? Witty? Ruggedly appealing?”

The cook rang a bell. “Order up!”

Jena grabbed two plates before she walked out from behind the cash register. “I was going to say irritating.”

He stepped in front her so she had to pause. Jena looked up at him with a scowl, but Caleb only smiled. “I’m also persistent, Jena Crowe. And I like a challenge.”

“Get out of my way, Chief Not-just-passing-through. Or I’ll dump this Coke down your pants, and I know for a fact you don’t have your own shower.”

“I’m trying to rent yours.” He slipped his hat on, tipping it at her before he walked to the door. “See you later, Jena.” He slipped out the door before she could say anything. He did love getting in the last word, and he had a feeling it wouldn’t happen too often with the woman.
 

Caleb walked to his truck with a spring in his step, nodding and smiling at the curious residents he passed. It may have been small, dusty, and in the middle of nowhere, but Cambio Springs was looking better all the time.

Chapter Seven

Jena peered into the glare of the late morning sun that hit her when she stepped out the church doors. Aaron darted around her, already racing toward the punch and donuts with one of Allie’s boys.
 

“Bear, you watch where you’re going!”

Low sauntered behind her, clumsily flirting with the new girl in his class. Her family had just moved back to the Springs. Jena suspected the girl’s mother, who was part of the cat clans, knew her daughter faced her first change soon. Jena smiled toward the uneasy father, who was already shaking hands with Reverend Bullock and being invited for coffee by Ted’s father after church.

Her grandmother bumped her shoulder. “Come over for coffee with the boys.”

“Okay. I’ve got everyone coming over for dinner later, but coffee sounds good.”

“And I’ve got a pie cooling with the last of the peaches.”

“Now that sounds
really
good.”

She saw Aaron run up to Caleb Gilbert, who was leaning against his truck in the parking lot, talking to Jeremy and his wife, Brenda. The man said something to her youngest, then winked, sending Aaron and his friend into peals of laughter before they ran away. Caleb looked up, caught her eye, and winked at her, too. Jena pretended not to see him, but it was hard to ignore the persistent man. He’d been coming into the diner almost every day and it was getting harder and harder to dismiss him. He was smart with a teasing sense of humor that quickly made him friends with her regular lunch crowd. He and Mr. Campbell debated which of Alma’s pies was the best. He always took the time to say hello to Missy and ask how she was feeling. He tipped the busboy way more than he should have and talked football scores with Devin.

And he flirted with her. Relentlessly. Jena couldn’t help but be flattered. It wasn’t like any of the other men in town—most of whom she had known since preschool—ever paid her attention like that. For the first time in years, Jena felt like someone was looking at her. He wasn’t looking at Lowell’s widow, or Aaron and Low’s mom. Caleb looked at
her
.

“That one has the subtlety of a bear after honey,” Alma said.

“I know.”

“I approve.”
 

Jena turned to Alma; she could already feel her cheeks heating up. “You what?”
 

Her grandmother only pinched her arm and walked to her car. “See you at the house!” Then the old woman sauntered past Caleb’s truck, stopping to chat with Brenda and garnering a hat tip from Caleb before she got into her old Jeep and took off into the desert.

Jena was distracted by another tug on her arm. It was Alex.

“I’ve been here for two weeks, Jen. Two weeks of coffee and pie and no answers.” Alex patted his trim stomach. “I’m jogging twice as much every morning and I still have no idea why she objects to the resort.”

“If you’re asking me if I know, you’re out of luck. She hasn’t told me. What do you all talk about when she’s feeding you pie?”

Alex sighed. “Who’s growing what and what’s in season. State water allocations and the federal riverbank restoration project. Who’s having babies and who’s moving out of town. Who’s moving into town. Where your parents are traveling this month. How my grandmother’s knee is… The woman can chat for hours about anything and everything except the resort that has the potential to pull this town from the edge of poverty.”

Jena tried not to smile. Alma didn’t chitchat needlessly. Never had. So whatever Alex’s frustrations, her grandmother had a reason for dragging out their discussions.

“Will you just ask her? Please?” He pulled off his sunglasses and gave her his best puppy dog eyes. “I’m begging. I’ve got a dozen balls all set to roll on this, but I have to get her approval. Once she’s sold on it, everything can start and people can actually work again. At least mention that to her?”

Jena shrugged. “I’ll talk to her, but no guarantees. You know how she is.”

“I know.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “You’re a doll.” He started toward his car before he turned back. “Hey, dinner at six, right?”

“Yep. Bring whatever you want to drink. Allie and I got the rest.”

“See you then.” Alex turned and nodded at Caleb, who was watching the exchange carefully. Then Alex reached over and punched Jeremy in his arm before he pretended to grab a laughing Brenda. Jena laughed, watching the cousins play-fight before they waved good-bye. She caught Caleb glancing at her before she heard Low.

“Mom? We going to Grandma’s or what?”

Alma Crowe, like all the Crowe women, had raised her children in the family home in town, near to the church, the school, and their neighbors until the next generation had been born. Then she and Jena’s grandfather had built a small home out in the desert butted up to a sheer wall of sandstone that glowed red in the morning sun and shaded the old house in the afternoons. It wasn’t an easy place to find, but then Crowes tended to like their solitude.

Jena pulled her Subaru into the graveled drive in front of the house; the boys were already on the way out of the car.

“Mom, we’re going to the Cliff House!”

“Okay. I’ll call when it’s time for pie.”

The boys whooped and hollered as they clambered up the rocks. The “cliff house” was a narrow sliver of cave cut into the rock face who-knows-how-many years before. It might have been one of the numerous shelters for the desert dwellers who had fled, leaving petroglyphs and pottery shards, or it might have been naturally made. For Jena and her sons, it served the purpose of a childhood fort. Cambio Springs didn’t have much in the way of tree houses, but the Cliff House was even more special.

She climbed onto the small porch, which was hung with dusty blinds to keep out the sun, and into her grandmother’s house. Alma must have just turned on the air-conditioner that hung in the window, because the house was still warm.

“Grandma?”

“Back in the kitchen, Jena.”

She set her purse down and walked back to her grandmother’s pride and joy. The kitchen was immaculate, the one indulgence in an otherwise simple house. Alma Crowe had been baking pies long before Jena had been born and her recipes were famous. When she and her husband had started the Blackbird Diner, it had been a pie house, serving Alma’s famous pies for breakfast and lunch. Her grandmother still had every recipe, though she only made dessert pies for Jena on a regular basis and only rarely made her breakfast pies.
 

“Hey.” She sat down at the long table that ran through the middle of the room.

“The boys at the Cliff House?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Talk to me about that handsome sheriff.”

“He’s not a sheriff. He’s a police chief.”

Alma said, “He could be a Fed for all I care. He’s finally turned your head, which is more than I can say for any other man in the last three years.”

“He hasn’t turned my head.” Jena tried not to think about Lowell. “I don’t have time for that stuff.”

Alma patted her shoulder as she moved to the small pie safe that stood in the corner of the room. “You should make time. It’s not good for you to be alone. And you don’t see your face when he comes in the diner. You light up.”