Close To The Heart (Westen Series Book 5) Page 3

  “Yes, Daniel and Cleetus went out to the house.” Wes gave Daniel a pointed look, as if daring him to comment. “You need copies of the photos?”

  Daniel held his hands up in a why motion, his brows drawn down in confusion

  “You’re going to be Lexie’s advocate? The assignment from the judge came through, then?” Again, Wes gave Daniel a pointed look.

  Daniel thrust a thumbs up sign at him that he’d send pics to her.

  Wes nodded. “You’ll need to send a formal request, counselor,” he said with a grin, and Daniel suspected he liked teasing her.

  “Okay, I’ll tell him.” Then he turned his back to the room, the conversation going quieter, the way it does when two people want to say personal things to each other. Things like I love you.

  Two months ago, Daniel never would’ve thought the former dark-ops agent, now town deputy, would be in any kind of relationship like he had with Chloe. Funny how things could change so quickly for people.

  Wes finished his call, then swiveled back around to the room. “Either one of you guys have plans tonight?”

  “Sylvie and I are having our first meeting with Pastor Miller for our couples’ pre-marriage counseling,” Cleetus said, looking up from his computer with a sappy grin on his face.

  Daniel tried not to laugh.

  Ever since the big guy had fallen for the elfish hairdresser, he’d been walking around with that goofy expression on his face. In all his years, Daniel had never seen a man more happy about all the preparations for the wedding set to happen in June.

  Most guys he’d known, including his recently married boss, tolerated the hoopla before the ceremony with more anticipation for the wedding night and honeymoon. Not Cleetus. Like any guy, those two things were on his mind—a planned trip to Niagara Falls and New York City to surprise Sylvie—but Cleetus was just as happy talking to the baker and florist, and now the minister.

  “Just have a meeting with the high school baseball team and their parents, from seven to nine,” Daniel said when Wes’s gaze swung his way. “Why?”

  “Chloe is meeting with Melissa Davis and Lexie tomorrow. The judge approved her petition to be the little girl’s advocate.”

  “Good. She’ll be good for her. God knows Lexie needs all the good people she can get in her corner.”

  “Trust me, Chloe will be sure Lexie’s welfare and her wishes are uppermost in Judge Rawlins’ mind,” Wes said with a wicked grin.

  “What’s the advocate thing have to do with tonight?” Cleetus asked.

  “Before she meets with Lexie and Melissa, Chloe’d like you two to tell her about how you found Lexie that day.”

  “It’s all in the report,” Daniel said.

  “Knowing Chloe, she wants to understand more than what’s written in an official report.” Wes toyed with the pen on his desk a moment. “Why don’t you both stop by around nine-thirty? You think you’ll be done at the church by then, Cleetus? You can bring Sylvie with you.”

  “Sure can.”

  “Daniel?”

  “Sure thing.”

  He’d have loved to refuse. He knew what Chloe wanted. She wanted his gut reaction to the situation. He didn’t know if he could give it without getting royally pissed off again. But if tearing out his insides and reliving that moment of panic when he realized Lexie was alone in that house with no heat in a blizzard would help Chloe protect her, he’d make the effort. The last thing he ever wanted was for Lexie’s mother to get her hands on the little girl once more.

  3

  Why are we going in here?” Lexie asked, clutching Melissa’s hand in hers and making her heart hurt for the little girl.

  “This is a hair and nail salon,” Melissa said as they stood outside the Dye Right Salon, the only place in town where women could get their hair, nails and even waxing done. “Since it’s spring, I thought we’d treat ourselves to getting our hair done and fingernails painted. It will make us feel special.” Something her counselor said she needed to make an effort to do on a regular basis. She squatted down to eye level with Lexie. “I thought you should have a treat for being so good and brave at your checkup today.”

  Not only had the doctor and Harriett weighed, measured and done a complete exam to see how Lexie had grown and progressed in the month she’d been at Westen House, but they’d given her several vaccinations. Unsure what, if any healthcare her mother had provided Lexie, the decision was to give her first round shots of polio, tetanus, pertussis and diphtheria—all she should have started as an infant. Boosters would come on bimonthly increments, along with the measles and hepatitis shots required for school.

  Doc Clint had explained that while many family practice groups gave all the shots at once, he believed in dividing them up so the child’s body built up antibodies to each disease separately before receiving more. Melissa, having no children of her own, had no idea what was normal, but trusted the man who’d cared for her and went with her to the hospital when Frank had nearly blinded her with the last beating he’d given her. If Doc Clint said split the vaccines up, split them was what they’d do.

  She reached up and pushed the jagged bangs away from Lexie’s face. “We can get your hair trimmed and paint your fingernails, if you want to that is. Would you like to do that?”

  “What colors will they paint my fingers?”

  Melissa laughed as she straightened. “Not your whole fingers, Lexie. Just the nails. They have lots of colors.”

  “Pink?”

  “Yes, pink. But not just one color of pink, they have all kinds of pink. You can choose which one you want. So, do you want to go inside now?”

  Lexie nodded.

  The moment they stepped inside, the noise from the music playing in the background, the whir of blow dryers and the voices talking and laughing over top of it all was overwhelming, even for Melissa. Lexie’s eyes grew wide and she tightened her grip on Melissa’s hand. That Lexie came to trust her warmed her heart. The fact the little girl should be so afraid of being around people saddened her.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. When ladies get together, they make lots of noise,” she reassured her as the door closed behind them.

  “That we do.” Twylla Howard, the owner of the Dye Right said, coming around the reception desk with a big smile. “Sounds like a bunch of cackling hens, doesn’t it?” She gave Lexie a wink full of mischief. “I’m Twylla and you must be Lexie.”

  Lexie nodded, her grip on Melissa’s hand easing a little.

  “Well, Miss Melissa here called and asked if I had anyone special who’d be able to cut her very special friend, Lexie’s hair. I said I knew just the person.”

  Twylla waved towards the corner in the back of the salon. A moment later what appeared to be a life-sized fairy popped out of the crowd. Sylvie Gillis, who stood a little shorter than five feet with short, spikey red and gold hair, had dressed in green from head to toe. But what really sealed the deal was the silver shiny, gossamer wings attached to her back.

  Melissa looked down at Lexie. Her eyes were as big as silver dollars, not in fear, but excitement.

  “Hi, Lexie! I’m Sylvie,” the fairy said, squatting down to meet her eye-to-eye.

  “Are you a real fairy?” Lexie asked.

  “No. But I sure do like costumes.” She turned slightly and with the movement her wings wiggled. “Want to touch them? You can.”

  Lexie nodded and reached out to stroke a finger across the material, then giggled. “They’re soft.”

  “Yep. Made them myself. Would you like to come with me, and we’ll wash your hair and you can tell me how short you want me to cut it.” She offered her hand.

  “Not as short as yours,” Lexie said slipping her hand in Sylvie’s

  Sylvie made a horrified look. “Of course not! No one would be able to tell us apart. You have to have your own hair style, this one’s all mine.” The pair half skipped through the salon to the washing station.

  “I think Sylvie just made a new friend,” Meliss
a said.

  Twylla patted her on the arm. “She’s in good hands with Sylvie.”

  Melissa smiled, her eyes a little watery. “I know. It’s just…when I called, I wasn’t expecting her to go to such trouble.”

  “Trust me, it wasn’t any trouble at all for her. Sylvie likes to go to those comic book conventions and loves to dress up in costumes. Sometimes, I wonder if she’s still a kid that conned me into hiring her. She certainly isn’t much bigger than one.”

  “And to think she’s marrying Cleetus in June,” a woman with curly dark hair said as she joined them at the desk.

  Melissa knew Cleetus. One of the deputies who had rescued Lexie along with Daniel, he came by regularly to check on things at Westen House and to be sure no one had come to try and make contact with Lexie. He was a big man who also played Santa around town with Sylvie as his elf last Christmas. So in love, the pair made the cutest couple.

  The dark-haired woman picked up a card from the desk. “I’m Darcy, Miss Davis. My station’s right next to Sylvie’s, so you can keep an eye on your little girl, while I do your hair today.” She smiled and motioned for Melissa to join her. Melissa stopped herself from explaining that Lexie wasn’t her daughter. It was a small town. Gossip traveled fast. If Darcy didn’t know it already, she would by the end of the day.

  Melissa looked from Darcy to Twylla. Why wasn’t her friend doing her hair? Why was she passing her on to someone else? Had she somehow offended her?

  “When you called this morning, I was booked with vendors meetings and a few elderly regular customers for the day,” Twylla said with a reassuring touch to her shoulder and meeting her wary gaze with a positive one. She leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “It’s time for you to meet new people. You’re in good hands with Darcy. I promise.”

  With a smile plastered on her face, Melissa lifted her chin and followed the new stylist through the throng of women either being pampered or doing the pampering. She was glad when no conversations stopped for people to stare at her. Six months ago, she would’ve never been here. Any gossip about her, whether good or bad, would find its way back to Frank. He would’ve been angry because she’d either spent money, or that she’d done her hair wrong, or she’d talked to the wrong person, or she hadn’t talked to someone that would help his business.

  Going to a salon would’ve ended up with her getting another beating. She’d given up taking care of herself. Unfortunately, her strategy had only given him another excuse to use her as a punching bag.

  When they’d stood outside the salon, she hadn’t been honest with Lexie. The truth was all the people and noise in the salon made her nervous, too. Twylla understanding that the very first time Libby had brought her in after Frank had gone to prison, she’d stayed after hours in the salon just to take care of Melissa and she’d always been grateful. Especially since she’d still been bruised all over her face from the final beating and the surgery needed to repair her eye and facial injuries. It had taken a few trips, but now she came to the salon regularly to help her get over her fear of crowds. Another reason her counselor said going to the salon was good for her.

  As Melissa sat at the sink, Darcy worked gardenia-scented shampoo into her hair with deliciously warm-bordering-on-hot water and her strong fingers. The tension she’d been trying to hide since leaving the doctor’s office to walk the few blocks downtown to the salon slowly disappeared. She could’ve driven the mini-van the town had provided her as part of her job at Westen House from the doctor’s parking lot, but the day was the first one with sunshine and temperatures around fifty since last fall. It was good for Lexie, and herself, to get out in the sunshine for some exercise.

  The tension came from the possibility of meeting a friend or family member of Frank’s. For the past six months she’d dreaded a confrontation in public with any of them, especially after he went to prison. She’d even taken to doing her grocery shopping early in the morning right after the boys had gone to school and few people were about town.

  Today’s outing with Lexie was as much her own decision to stop hiding as it was to get her newest charge some exercise and a new haircut.

  Giggling sounded beside her. She turned to see what was going on and grinned. Lexie was high in her chair, looking at the mirror. Sylvie had lathered her hair thickly and pulled it into twists that resembled floppy dogs’ ears on top of her head.

  “Make it a kitty?” Lexie asked.

  “Sure thing, sweetie.” Sylvie quickly worked the hair into two points resembling kitten ears. “There you go.”

  Lexie giggled.

  “Do you like cats?” Sylvie asked.

  “Yes, I got one at the doctors. Miss Harriett said he has to stay with his mama a couple more weeks, then he can come live with me.”

  “A brand-new kitten. How fun! We best get this soap out of your hair.” Sylvie put the chair back and helped Lexie lie so her hair was in the bowl. “What are you going to name him?”

  A long pause came from Lexie as Sylvie rinsed her hair, and Melissa held her breath in anticipation of what she was going to say.

  “I think I’ll call him Blizzard,” Lexie finally said.

  “Oh, because he’s white all over?” Sylvie asked, wrapping a towel around Lexie’s hair and helping her sit back up.

  Melissa swallowed her laughter. She knew what was coming next.

  “He’s not white. He’s all black,” Lexie announced.

  Sylvie drew her brows in confusion. “Then why are you calling him blizzard? Blizzards are all white.”

  “That’s when Miss Harriett said he was born. During the blizzard.”

  Sylvie thought about it a second, then nodded. “Good a reason as any. I like it.”

  Lexie hopped down and the pair headed to Sylvie’s station.

  Melissa laughed.

  So did Darcy. “You’ve got to love how kids’ brains work.”

  Holding the towel on her head, Melissa followed Darcy back to her chair. “She’ll love having a black cat named Blizzard when she’s older. In the meantime, I’m sure all the boys will think it’s hysterical.”

  “So, you have sons, too?” the stylist asked as she started combing out her wet hair.

  Melissa took a steadying breath.

  For so long she’d avoided talking about her private life with anyone, afraid whatever she said would get back to Frank. This wasn’t about Frank, though. It wasn’t really about her, either. It was about the life she was living now and the kids under her care. She was proud of what she was doing and the lives she was helping change. Time to acknowledge it out loud, in public.

  “Actually, I don’t have any children. I am the house mother at the Westen House,” she said as Darcy started cutting her hair. “Not too short, please.”

  “Layered around the face with bangs again and to your shoulders?” Darcy asked.

  Melissa smiled. It was nice to have someone ask her opinion about her hair—or anything else for that matter. It was her usual style with a bit of a modern twist with the layers. “Yes, I think so.”

  “I’ve heard of the Westen House. It’s a home for troubled kids, right?”

  “More like a group home for homeless teens, teens having trouble at home or school, but no juvenile record. Sort of a buffer between their problems and the stepping out into society. Right now, there are four young men living there. All doing well.” She didn’t try to hide the pride in her voice. It was true. They all were doing well.

  “Cool. And the little girl?” Darcy set down the scissors and held the blow dryer in one hand and a round brush in the other, waiting on Melissa’s answer.

  “She’s a special guest,” she replied, tempering her answer. While the news the little girl had been abandoned was probably common knowledge by now, it went against Melissa’s principles to engage in gossip. Especially gossip about someone she’d been given the responsibility to care for.

  She met Darcy’s eyes in the mirror.

  The younger woman nodded, understan
ding and compassion in her eyes. Turning on the dryer, she began pulling the brush through Melissa’s wet hair. She closed her eyes and blissfully relaxed, enjoying the moment of peace.

  In the end, Lexie—after much discussion with Sylvie on the merits of all the shades of pink—decided for Strawberry Soda polish on her nails.

  “Well, don’t you two look like bright shiny new pennies today?” Lorna, the owner of the Peaches ’N Cream Café said as she set two glasses of water on the table of their booth. “Where have you been?”

  Melissa nodded at Lexie. “We went to see Dr. Clint this morning, then decided to treat ourselves to some shopping.”

  “I got two shots. Then Ms. Harriett took me to see the kittens. I’m ‘dopting Blizzard,” Lexie announced, kicking her feet back and forth so her pink converse shoes hit the booth seat.

  “And where did you get those shoes?” Lorna asked.

  “At the store,” Lexie said, tilting her head as if wondering where else Lorna thought they’d come from.

  “We went to The Hopscotch Boutique to buy some clothes after a stop at the Dye Right to get haircuts and our nails done,” Melissa explained.

  Lexie held up her nails. “Mine are Strawberry Soda pink.” Then she extended one leg to show off her new shoe. “My shoes match.”

  Lorna admired the nails and shoes with great seriousness. “Very nice choices. Your favorite color wouldn’t be pink, would it?”

  Lexie grinned nearly ear-to-ear and bobbed her head, her pigtails bouncing, the pink ribbons Sylvie had tied on them waving like banners. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, it’s a little early for strawberries in Ohio, but when they’re ripe, I’ll be sure to have Pete make some homemade strawberry ice cream.” Lorna leaned closer as if imparting a National Secret. “It’s always pink. Would you like me to save you some?”

  Lexie’s eyes lit up and she nodded emphatically.

  “Strawberries won’t be ripe for months,” Melissa said, picking up the menu. “So maybe we should order something else for lunch today?”