To Love and Protect (17 page)

Shelley sighed. "I know what you're getting at. That in the end, I might think less of him if that were the kind of person he was. And you know what? You're right. Part of what I find so appealing about Matt is his fearlessness and his willingness to help others. But I just can't live this way. I can't be constantly wondering if I'm going to see him the next day, or if every 'good-bye' could potentially be the last one."

"I don't think I have to tell you that you probably feel this way because of what happened to Ted. But maybe you just need some more time to adjust to things."

"You're right," Shelley said quietly, though she silently wondered if she
could
adjust. It was as if the universe had answered her prayer of finding love again … but with a catch. 

“I don’t know … life is never simple,” Diana said quietly, as though reading her thoughts.

Shelley smiled wearily. “No, it never is.”

Sergeant Rinaldi plopped a handful of phone messages on Matt's desk at the station. "Twenty-seven phone messages and counting."

"You're kidding me."

"I never lie unless I'm playing poker."

"Who are they from?"

"Have a look for yourself. Mostly newspapers and TV stations, one from Californian even. Several marriage proposals and my favorite − an offer to be the centerfold of next month's
Straight Guys for Queer Eyes
magazine.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Sarge, I never expected all this."

"I know, son. I'm sure the last thing you were thinking when you took that guy down was all the publicity it would generate. Heck, even Clara the psychic cow didn't see this coming." He pulled up a chair by Matt's desk. "So how are you today?"

Please, thought Matt. The last thing he needed was Sergeant Rinaldi getting all touchy feely with him."

"Me? I'm fine. You know − it was kind of a crazy situation yesterday."

"I'll say." Sergeant Rinaldi studied him closely.

Matt knew he was chomping at the bit to say more, but for some reason he remained subdued. After several moments of silence passed, Matt grabbed the messages and stuffed them in a desk drawer. "Don't worry, Sarge. I'm not planning to have my face plastered on some newspaper just because I was doing my job."

"That's just the point. You weren't doing your job."

Matt froze. "Oh?"

"You were off-duty, as I recall. And news hounds can smell the ink on a fresh dollar with a story like that."

"Not if I don't cooperate."

"Too late. Your department mug shot is on page one of all the local papers today. You haven't seen it?"

"I didn't have a chance to pick up the paper this morning," Matt sighed. This was not what he had signed up for when he became a police officer. He was no hero. Just a guy at the wrong place at the wrong time − or right time, depending how it was viewed − who did what needed to be done.

"Shelley was with you, too. Isn't that right?" Sergeant Rinaldi asked, cutting into Matt's thoughts as his throat tightened. Why did he feel like he was being interrogated by Shelley's father, rather than his boss?

"I wasn't in uniform, true, but you wouldn't have wanted me to just stand there and watch while innocent people were possibly killed, would you?"

"Last I recall, you were an innocent person yourself."

The tightness in Matt's throat shot to his temples, only this ache was wrapped in anger. Why was the sergeant grilling him about diffusing a possible gunfight? "You would have done the same thing," Matt said, his voice tinged with defiance. Several moments passed. “Sir.”

"Now, none of that sir crap, Matt. You know I consider you an equal. Just got a few more years on you so I've seen more crazies, that's all. I'm not trying to condemn what you did. Heck, you're right. I would've done the same. Almost."

"Almost?"

Sergeant Rinaldi shrugged. "I would've kneed the guy in the privates after taking him down, just to teach him a lesson, but that's just me."

Matt grinned, but only momentarily. "Then why do I get the feeling that you don't approve of what I did? Is it because the media's tying to get in on it?"

"Heck, no. It'll put Fairfax on the map for something other than being the pumpkin-growing capital of New England. I'm even thinking you'll be asked to be on the next
Bachelor
, and I can get a cut on the deal."

Matt shook his head and sighed good-naturedly. "I don't need to go on that show. I already met my match."

Sergeant Rinaldi leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. "Well, I didn't want to go there, but since you brought it up ..."

Great, thought Matt. The gunman yesterday apparently wasn't the only one to shoot himself in the foot.

"I would imagine she must've been shaken up over what happened yesterday. You wrestling a man with a gun and all."

Matt cleared his throat. "Well, yes, she was. I certainly don't blame her, but I explained to her that I had assessed the situation and I really didn't think I was putting myself in danger."

"Bullcocky."

"Sarge?"

"Shelley's a smart woman. Even smarter to the ways of do-good guys like yourself, considering she was once married to one. She knows the score, Matt. Now I'm not telling you that you should've handled things differently."

"Then what
are
you telling me?"

Sergeant Rinaldi sighed and let his hands fall his sides with a whack. "I guess I'm telling you that I've turned into some dang
Love Connection
host."

Matt was speechless. And even if he could talk, he wouldn't know how to respond to the sergeant's dilemma.

"Damn it, Matt. You already know I love Shelley like a daughter. But I've come to think of you like a son, too. I just feel like you two kids are meant to be together, and I'd hate to see it all fall apart because she's afraid of losing someone again."

"She'll probably always feel that way after what happened to her husband."

"She wouldn't if she were married to an accountant whose greatest job danger is a paper cut."

"So what do you suggest I do?" Matt asked, touched by the sergeant’s concern, but frustrated at the lack of a solution.

Sergeant Rinaldi stood up and paced in front of Matt's desk, his cowboy boots clanging with every step. "I'll be damned if I know," he sighed. “Fact is, you're the best police officer I've ever seen in these parts in a long time. You can sniff out trouble like a mouse in a cheese factory. You've got great instincts and you're as level-headed as they come in a crisis situation."

The sergeant's compliments were like an unexpected slap on the shoulder, and Matt slid deep into the chair with a bewildered smile.

"Maybe too level-headed," Sergeant Rinaldi continued, prompting Matt to right himself. "A little bit of fear ain't a bad thing when your ass is on the line. I just wish there were some way of reassuring Shelley that she's not gonna lose you like Ted. Problem is, I'm not so certain of that myself."

Matt wasn't sure how to take that remark. Was Sergeant Rinaldi taking lessons from Clara the psychic cow and predicting an early demise?

"Are you saying that
you
think I'm going to be killed or something?

"Not if you limit yourself to responding to calls about dogs urinating on the neighbors' bushes or underwear stolen off clotheslines. But we both know that won't happen. I've just never seen trouble find someone like it does you. And when it's there, you can't say no."

"You're right," Matt said hotly. "I can't say no to stopping a bad situation from getting worse. But I don't think that's such a terrible thing."

Sergeant Rinaldi nodded. "It ain't a bad thing, Matt. It's what makes you a great cop. I guess the answer to all this lies with Shelley. Either she can learn to live with the uncertainty, or you two will have to part ways. Used to be I could say that we don't have to worry about dangers here like the men in blue up in Boston or New York. But that's not the case anymore. We got our own share of loonies hiding in the pumpkin patches. And the worse part is now they're packing pistols instead of garden hoes. It's a scary world we live in when a small town like Fairfax is home to two organized armed robberies in the span of a few years."

"No kidding," Matt said quietly. He knew all too well the repercussions of this kind of crime.

Sergeant Rinaldi slapped him on the back. "Bottom line is you did an admirable thing last night, and I'm just glad you're still here to talk about it. And I'm sure Shelley is, too."

Matt forced a smile, but he was feeling anything but sunny inside. Because as far as he was concerned, yesterday's events had widened the gulf between Shelley and himself, and at this point it would probably be easier to saddle a bull than win back her trust.

TEN

Later that afternoon, as Shelley drove back home to pick up some more clothes, she sat on the porch for a few minutes and wondered how long it would be before she had her own house back. Not to mention her life.

What in the...

She stood up from her chair as a beat-up, green-paneled station wagon came barreling down the driveway. Those cars were supposed to have disappeared with the
Brady Bunch,
Shelley surmised to herself as the vehicle screeched to a halt just inches from her truck.

"Hi, Shelley!" Marge exclaimed as she stuck her head out of the driver's window. "Look at me! I'm driving!"

Or something like that, Shelley thought as she waved from a careful distance. "Good for you, Marge!" she cheered as she walked over to the car.

"Get in! I want to take you for a ride."

Shelley balked. "A ride? To where?"

"Just to my place. I want you to pick out a plant for yourself as a thank you for encouraging me to start driving again."

"You took driving lessons already? Weren't we only talking about it just last week?"

"I've had one so far. But you know, it's just like they say about a bicycle. You never forget how to ride one once you learn. And just like that, driving a car all came back to me."

Of course a bike wasn't a few tons of metal driven at 60 miles per hour … Shelley caught herself and tried to think positive. It was a short-lived vow as the car suddenly idled loudly and shuddered in place.

"Oops," Marge grinned. "I guess I shouldn't step on the gas like that when the car's in park, huh?" She leaned over and swung the passenger door open. "Come on! Hop in!"

"So where did you get this car?" Shelley asked as she gingerly sat down on the moldy seat cushion. There was enough foam and cotton peeking through tears in the fabric to create a life-sized stuffed sheep.

"Herb picked it up for me at the junkyard. Can you believe someone just dumped it there?"

"Imagine."

"It still runs and everything."

Shelley grabbed the door handle as the car backfired with enough firepower to heat Fairfax for the upcoming winter. "That was awfully generous of Herb," she said tersely as she pried her fingers loose from the handle.

"Wasn't it? And he did say he'll get me an even nicer car if I can prove to him that I'm a good enough driver."

Poor Marge, Shelley thought. It looked like she would be driving this heap of metal for a long time to come. Several minutes later they pulled into Marge's driveway. Don't look, Shelley thought, shielding her eyes as the house grew closer and closer at an alarming rate of speed.