Make You Mine by K.T. Quinn

44

Charlotte

The sheriff drove me along the main Eastland road, every now and then glancing at me in the rear-view mirror.

“So,” he said casually. “You’re all done with your community service.”

I held up my packet of service hours signed by Mindy. “Busted my butt every day. A hundred and twenty hours.”

The sheriff chuckled as if that were funny. “We’ll see what Judge Benjamin thinks.”

“Why do you say it like that?” I asked in my most humble tone. Like I was curious about the local bakery rather than questioning the sheriff’s judgement.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Our judge can be awfully merciful when he wants to be. But he can be tough on crime when he thinks justice has not been served.”

He chuckled some more, deepening my feeling of dread as we drove to the outskirts of town.

The judge was fishing on a shallow, rocky part of the river. As I approached, I noticed that the water was so clear you could see the rocks beneath the surface. With the trees all around providing mostly shade, it was a peaceful fishing spot. It would have made a great place for a picnic.

“Charlotte Owens,” the judge said without turning to look. He wore the same fishing waders he had the first day I met him, though today he had forgone the hat. “Beautiful day under God’s blue sky, is it not?”

“Best one we’ve had since I got here,” I said diplomatically. “A blessing, especially after all the rain we’ve had.”

“Without the rain, we wouldn’t appreciate the good weather as much,” he said, sounding more like a preacher than a judge. “You did a marvelous job on my fence. Amazing attention to detail.”

I tensed. Was he talking about the carving Jayce and I had made in the fence post? Oh no. I’d allowed a moment of weakness to ruin everything I had done in this town, condemning me to a longer sentence.

The growing sense of injustice almost overwhelmed me. I could feel the walls closing in again, just as I thought I was escaping. They were going to keep me in this town doing manual labor until I died. My own Sisyphean hill to climb forever.

“Have you learned anything, Miss Owens?” the judge asked. He cast a new line out onto the water and then turned to look at me. His eyes were harsh and unsympathetic behind his glasses.

“Learned?” I stammered.

“Community service isn’t just busy work to tidy up the town,” he explained. “It’s a chance for moral rehabilitation. What have you learned?”

I quickly gathered my thoughts. “I’ve learned a lot of things. I need to do a better job of respecting law enforcement, even when my… emotions get the better of me.” I choked out the words that he wanted to hear. “I’ve learned to obey all road signs, even on stormy nights, and never to speed through a small town. Driving is, uh, a privilege, not a right. I have to demonstrate that I have earned such a right.”

His judging eyes bore into me. “What else?”

I learned not to fall in love with a man in a jail cell. I learned not to trust people. I learned that I can’t rely on anyone outside my family.

I didn’t know what he was looking for me to say. Thinking about Jayce made my stomach turn, and the swaying of the trees in the wind was making me dizzy, and if I didn’t get out of there soon I was going to fall apart.

“I learned not to tick off a small-town sheriff, or judge,” I finally said. Once the words were out of my mouth I wished I could retract them, but since I couldn’t, I went on. “Because they’re tough on crime, and will make your life a living hell.”

Behind me, the sheriff doubled over with laughter. “Ain’t that the truth!” he said between bellows, practically choking on his own breath. “But only if you deserve it, honey. We’re harsh, but we’re fair.”

I laughed and nodded as if that were the truth. That seemed to placate the judge too.

“Your license is hereby reinstated, pending the applicable administrative fees,” the judge announced to me, the sheriff, and the river. He turned back to his fishing line. “I’d better not see you in Eastland again, Miss Owens. I won’t be so lenient next time.”

I was so flabbergasted that it took a few seconds to register. “You won’t,” I promised. “Thank you, your honor. Thank you!”

I rode back to the sheriff’s station in a daze. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the sheriff to suddenly get a phone call indicating that I had broken some obscure nineteenth-century law barring women from showing skin above their ankles, or something equally ridiculous, in order to keep me in the town. But nothing came.

We parked at the station and went inside to fill out paperwork. Once again he had to send it out on his awful fax machine. I waited and twiddled my thumbs. It was a good thing Mindy gave me that huge cinnamon roll because it was now two-thirty.

I’ll get an early dinner on the way home. Once I was at least an hour out of town. I didn’t think I’d feel safe until I was far away from Eastland.

“All right, just need your payments now.”

The sheriff went over all the fees I owed to their little town, and the surrounding county. I didn’t even care about the amounts at this point. I would’ve paid any amount to just go home. But what did worry me was the lack of funds in my account.

“Hey, uh, when do you deposit these checks?” I asked when they were all written and stacked on the sheriff’s desk. “I have a deposit coming to my account but it might not be there for another two days…”

Instead of scowling, the sheriff smiled and leaned across the desk. “I usually take ‘em the day I receive ‘em, but it won’t hurt for me to drag my feet ‘til Friday. That work?”

I blinked with surprise. “That would be perfect. Thank you!”

“We do our best to work with people,” he said. “Now, about the motel and parking fees…”

I wrote him personal checks for those.

“I have to say, the town looks cleaner than it has in years,” he said. “You did a fine job, young lady.”

I grinned while tearing the final check from my checkbook. “It was easy with Jayce’s help. Many hands make quick work.” I handed the check across the desk.

He stared at it and frowned. “He helped with the early work,” he said casually. I was so excited to leave that I didn’t even notice something was wrong.

“He helped with everything.” I paused before ratting him out for not showing today, then went on anyway. It was his problem, not mine. “Today I worked alone, since he didn’t show up. Must’ve been hungover.”

I grinned, but the sheriff’s mouth was hanging open. He took the check from my hand and put it down without taking his eyes from me.

“You’re telling me,” he said slowly, “that Jayce Simone Hawkins stopped doing community service today?”

“That’s right.” Now I knew something was wrong. “What’s the matter? Should I have not snitched on him? I honestly don’t care whether or not Jayce gets in trouble for no-showing today. I just—”

“Jayce shouldn’t have been helping you,” the sheriff snarled. “He was already released from all obligations by the judge. He finished his community service two weeks ago.”