* *
“Who are you and what have you done with my father?”
Sam shifted in his chair at Carl’s, Brevia’s most popular restaurant, still reeling from his unbelievable afternoon. From the bizarre encounter with Julia he’d been called to a domestic disturbance that ended up being a chicken loose in Bobby Royall’s kitchen. It had made him almost thirty minutes late to dinner with his dad. Now he wished the bird hadn’t been so easy to catch.
Joe Callahan adjusted his Patriots baseball cap and chuckled. “It’s me, son. Only better.”
Said who?
His father had been a police officer in Boston for almost forty years, most of which had been spent working homicide. Joe Callahan had dedicated his life to his career, and his family had suffered from the on-the-job stress and risks he took daily. Although it wasn’t intentional, Sam had modeled his own life after his father’s. Sam had put his job before everything and everyone in his life—just like Joe.
Recently, though, Joe had begun conducting programs for police departments on emotional awareness. Sam had resisted his father’s repeated attempts to help him “get in touch” with his feelings. But now Joe was here and impossible to ignore.
“The boys down at the precinct loved my seminar. At least four of ’em were in tears by the end. I got thank-you notes from a half-dozen wives.”
“That’s great, Dad.” Sam took a long drink of iced tea, wishing he wasn’t on duty. A cold one would be mighty helpful tonight. “I don’t see what that has to do with me or your unexpected visit to Brevia.”
His father pulled a flyer out of the briefcase at his feet and pushed it across the table. “While I’m down here, I thought we could organize a workshop.”
Sam glanced at the pamphlet. His stomach gave a hearty gurgle. Law with Love, Presented by Retired Police Captain Joseph Callahan. A picture of Joe hugging a group of uniformed officers filled the front page. Sam couldn’t remember ever being hugged by his craggy, hard-nosed father. Holy mother of...
“I don’t know. It’s only me and one deputy on the force.”
Joe tapped the sheet of paper. “It’s for firefighters and paramedics, too. We could bring in neighboring towns—make it a regional event. Plus civil servants, city council. You’re looking at a long-term reappointment, right? This could make quite an impression as far as your potential.”
At the mention of his possible future in Brevia, Sam lost the battle with his temper. “My potential as what? I’m the chief of police, not the hug-it-out type.”
His father’s sharp intake of breath made Sam regret his outburst. “Sorry. You know what a small town this is and—”
Joe held up a hand. “Don’t apologize.” He removed his bifocals and dabbed at his eyes with a napkin.
“You aren’t going to cry,” Sam muttered, disbelieving. “You don’t cry.”
“Yes. I am going to cry. To take a moment and feel my pain.”
Great. This was the second time today he’d brought someone to tears.
After a loud nose blow, Joe’s watery gaze met his. “I feel my pain, and I feel yours.”
“I’m not in pain.” Sam let his eyes drift shut. “Other than a raging headache.”
Joe ignored him and continued, “I did this to you, Sammy.”
Sammy? His father hadn’t called him Sammy since—
“When your mother died my whole world collapsed. I didn’t think I could live without her. I didn’t want to. It broke me a little more every day to see you and your brother that sad. I did the only thing I could to survive. I shut off my heart, and I made you do the same. I was wrong. I’m here to make it right again.”
Sam saw customers from the surrounding tables begin to stare. “It’s okay. Let’s go outside for a minute.”
Joe followed Sam’s gaze and shook his head. “I’m not embarrassed to show my feelings. Not anymore.” He took another breath, this one steadier. “Ever since the incident with my ole ticker.” He thumped his sweatshirt. “They say facing death can make you reevaluate your whole life.”
“It was indigestion, Dad. Not a real heart attack. Remember?”
“Doesn’t matter. The change to my heart was real. The effect on my life was real.” He readjusted his glasses. “I want the same change for you. I want you to be happy.”
“I’m fine.” Sam gulped a mouthful of ice and crunched. “Happy as a clam.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
Alarm bells went off in Sam’s head. “I...sure...am actually. She’s great.” He looked away from his father’s expectant face, unable to lie to him directly. He glanced around the crowded restaurant and his gaze landed on Julia at a booth in the back. He hadn’t noticed her when he’d first walked in, but now he couldn’t pull his eyes away.
This must be the meeting with her ex-boyfriend’s family she’d told him about. The faces of the two women seated across from her were blocked, but Julia’s cheeks flamed pink. Her palm smacked the table as if she was about to lose control.
Easy there, sweetheart, he counseled silently.
As if she’d heard him, her eyes met his and held for several moments. His pulse hammered against his throat. Then she squared her shoulders and folded her hands in her lap.
He turned back to his father. “You’d like her. She’s a real spitfire.”
Joe smiled. “Like your mother.”
Sam forced himself not to look at Julia again. “I was ten when she died. I don’t remember that much.”
“This one’s different than your other girls?”
Sam caught the waitress’s attention and signaled for the check.
“Because I think you need a new perspective. After what happened with...”
“I don’t want to rehash my relationship history.”
Joe reached across the table and clasped Sam’s hand in his. “I know you want to find love and settle down.”
Sam heard a loud cough behind him and found the young waitress staring. Her look could only be described as predatory. Fantastic. Sam had dated some when he’d first come to town but had kept to himself recently, finding it easier and less complicated to be alone. The way gossip went viral in Brevia, he’d have a fresh line of eligible women in front of his office by morning.
“I told you,” Sam said, loud enough for the waitress to hear. “I’ve got a girlfriend. We’re very happy.”
The waitress dropped the check on the table with a humph and stalked away.
“It’s serious?” Joe asked.
