Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [26]
Sara eased to a stop in the driveway of the Aurora Heights cottage, killed the engine, and sat behind the wheel, trying to purge the last of her negative feelings about her meeting with General Thatcher before she went inside. She didn’t want to start the weekend with Kerney ranting and raving about her boss.
She gazed at the small brick house with its pitched shingled roof, gabled second-story windows, and formal pilasters that bracketed the front entrance. She loved the house, loved the man and boy who waited for her inside, loved the fact that Kerney had bought it for her and Patrick. It was the first true home she’d lived in since the day she entered West Point.
Inside, she called out to Kerney and Patrick and got no response. On the kitchen stove a pot of spaghetti sauce simmered, one of Kerney’s specialties he frequently fixed when he came to Arlington. She walked to the small enclosed back porch, heard the sound of Patrick’s laughter, and looked out through the screen door to see father and son playing baseball. Patrick stood with a small plastic bat on his shoulder, watching Kerney chase down a large rubber ball that rolled across the lawn.
“Home run!” Patrick said.
“Home run,” Kerney echoed, returning with the ball. He lobbed it underhand to Patrick, who swung and missed.
The last of Sara’s snit about the meeting with Thatcher washed away as she watched her husband and son at play for another minute, before stepping to the bedroom to change out of her uniform. Last night, anticipating Kerney’s arrival, she’d shaved her legs and taken a long soak in the tub. She dressed in a pair of shorts that accentuated her legs and pulled on a scoop-necked short-sleeve top that revealed the tiniest bit of cleavage.
In the kitchen Patrick and Kerney were at the table, reading Pablito the Pony. Sara nuzzled Patrick’s cheek and stroked the back of Kerney’s neck.
“Are you just now reading the book?” she asked.
“For the third time,” Kerney said, glancing at Sara. “You look yummy.”
“Yummy means good,” Patrick announced as he turned the page.
“Can you hold that thought until later?” Sara asked.
Kerney grinned. “Easily. How did your meeting go?”
“Okay.”
Patrick poked his finger on the book to get Kerney’s attention. “This is where Pablito gets his hoof stuck in the fence, Daddy.”
“Right you are,” Kerney said.
“I’ll get the noodles started,” Sara said, “while you men finish reading.”
The phone rang. Sara went to the living room and answered. Kerney paused, hoping it wasn’t the Pentagon calling her back to work. She was still on the phone when he finished reading the story. He closed the book, sent Patrick off to his bedroom to put it away, and found Sara in the living room, her eyes dancing with excitement.
“Good news?” he asked.
“I’m staying at the Pentagon for at least six more months,” Sara said, “in a new temporary assignment, with a new boss.”
“What’s the job?”
“I’m supposed to develop a military-police training course for reserve and National Guard units.”
“How did you pull that off?”
Sara shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Does this mean your leave is canceled?”
Sara snuggled up to him. “No way. We’re still going to the Bootheel with you to play Hollywood cowboy.”
Kerney grinned with relief, held her close, took in her scent. “Well, for now, that’s another piece of puzzle solved.”
“For now is good enough for me,” Sara replied.
“I’m hungry,” Patrick said, as he bounded into the living room and grabbed his parents by the legs.
After a great weekend with Sara and Patrick, Kerney returned to Santa Fe late Sunday night, caught a few hours of sleep, and arrived at work in time to convene an interagency planning meeting for the upcoming Santa Fe Fiesta.
Every year in September the city celebrated the Spanish reconquest of New Mexico with pageantry, religious services, music, dances, parties, and the public burning of Old Man Gloom. It was a time when a good number of the citizenry got drunk, started fistfights, brawled in bars,