Jim’s eyes wandered from the paper work on his desk to the wall clock, and he was surprised to see that it was almost ten-thirty at night. Where had the day gone? It was normal for him to lose track of the time when he was busy.
Jim slowly pushed the chair away from the desk, then leaned back and rubbed his tired eyes. Maybe Rissley was right, he thought. For months Joe had been suggesting that he delegate more of the paperwork to her, but he resisted. He had been doing it by himself all these years and didn’t feel comfortable letting someone else make these decisions, no matter how minor. He didn’t want to feel out of touch, and admittedly liked to be sure everything was under control.
What was he afraid of? It’s not like the whole department would fall apart if he let someone else take care of a few details. Especially someone like Rissley. She was smart, creative, and innovative. Within the last few years, he had come to rely on her more and more. He respected her opinion.
She was instrumental in getting the department switched over to computer filing, and a couple of years ago she suggested that they have their own website. He didn’t like either idea at the time, but, after stewing on it awhile, he changed his mind. It was a good thing, too. Both ideas saved countless hours of wasted time, freeing everyone up to do more important work.
I suppose you have to take the good with the bad, though, he thought. He liked how helpful she was, but she also constantly analyzed his methods and tactics for doing business. Like the way he handled short falls in the monthly operating budget. For years, whenever they operated in the red, he had sent all the deputies out to Interstate Five to set up speed traps. The added revenue, from extra speeding tickets, filled the gaps in the budget nicely.
He’d been doing it so long he had it down to a science. It was one of his favorite moneymakers because it targeted people from outside the county. Interstate Five connected Seattle and Portland. Thousands of people traveled between the two large cities every month, and they all had to drive through Lewis County to do it.
Big city money was like new blood to his community. The more they needed, the longer the deputies stayed out on the Intestate until they were in the black again. Occasionally, a deputy would ask why they all had to be out on the Interstate so much. Each deputy had other, more important, duties that were being neglected. He would answer the question by saying it was for the safety of the motorist. All the speeding tickets made the drivers slow down and be more careful.
That argument always worked until Joe disputed it. Now that all the data was easily accessible on the computer, Joe was able to create a statistical report. Her report showed that the additional deputies and extended hours on speed trap duty did not decrease the accident rate. It did, however, increase the county coffers by a significant amount.
Jim hated to be proven wrong. For years, he had suspected that was the case, but the safety argument was always easy justification. Confronted with the facts, she expected him to reduce the amount of speed trap duty, but he refused.
“Okay, so I can no longer tell the deputies to get out there and keep the roads safe for the tax payer,” he remembered saying. “I’ll call it what it is. From now on I’ll say, ‘Get out there and keep this county from going bankrupt.’”
She didn’t like that answer, and argued against it, saying it was unethical for a law enforcement officer to write tickets strictly for the purpose of generating revenue- it was like creating a toll road through the county.
“You’re artificially creating a tax that the citizens have to pay,” she had stated. “It’s not the duty of law enforcement to create taxes.”
He had countered by saying, “Year after year, the Federal and State governments remove money from the county by either increasing taxes or reduce the amount of subsidies they provide for necessary programs. Either way, this county is forced to survive on a continually shrinking annual budget. When that happens, sometimes you have to fight fire with fire.”
“For years I’ve heard your speech about the evils of big government and big cities,” she had said. “Your fire with fire policy is stooping to their level. It’s hypocritical!”
That hit Jim like a punch in the gut. He’d been called a lot of things, but never a hypocrite, and it made him reexamine his policies. Later, after he was able to think about it, he came to the conclusion that Joe was right. His fire with fire policy was hypocritical, but he still felt justified in using it. Technically, the speeders were breaking the law. Since it was Jim’s duty to enforce the law, he could ticket them all he wanted.
Jim had other tactics as well, that he used either to raise or save money. He made deals, trades, or found unnamed donors for whatever was needed. Was it wrong? He didn’t think so. Everyone got what they wanted and nobody got hurt—he saw to that.
Jim looked out his glass door to the front office. Everyone except the dispatcher was gone. The deputies had either gone home or were on patrol. Perhaps I’ll assign Joe some of the paper work, he thought to himself. Maybe if she realized how difficult the job was, she wouldn’t be so critical of his tactics. And maybe with her help, they could come up with better methods of doing business.
He had been independent for too long, and was uneasy with the idea of anyone helping him. Well, at least he would think about it. He looked down at the paperwork on his desk then rubbed his eyes, again. He’d spent too much time on the stuff already, and it never seemed to end or change.
Another accident at the four way stop at Pine and Kesler—that made the second one this year. He’d have to go see the County Council again about putting in a stoplight. He stood up. What’s the use? They’d give him that same dry speech about there not being enough money in the budget and he was tired of hearing that every year.
He considered sending Rissley to talk to them. It would be good experience for her and give him a rest as well. That’s what he’d do, he decided. Starting tomorrow, Joe’s in charge of getting a new streetlight.
Jim walked around the desk, picked up a small backpack lying on the floor, and walked out of the office. After closing the door behind him, he walked down the hall and into the men’s room. A few minutes later, he emerged in sweats, wearing the backpack and carrying a bike helmet and goggles.
“Good night, Sullivan. Have a good one,” Jim said, walking past the night radio dispatcher.
“Goodnight, Sheriff,” replied the heavy set man as he looked up from the thick novel he was reading.
Jim walked out the front door of the building and over to the rack where he unlocked his mountain bike. It had been another late night with no time for a decent meal. That meant a plate of hotdogs again. He cringed at the thought, then he gazed at the sky. It looked like rain and he hoped it would hold off until he got home.
He put on his helmet and goggles. He hated wearing them and thought they kind of took some of the fun out of it. As a kid, he never used either, but now things were different. He was Sheriff and he had to set an example for the young kids in the community. Jim mounted the bike and peddled down the street.
He rolled he eyes thinking of all the angry phone calls he got from parents when their children didn’t wear their helmets because they saw the Sheriff without one. That was one of the hassles of being a small town Sheriff. Everybody knew him, so he had to pay close attention to what he said or did and who was watching.
As Jim rounded a corner, he waved to the house without really looking. She was in the window, as always. That went especially for Mrs. Miller, he thought distastefully. There wasn’t anything that happened in this town without her knowing about it. Yes sirree-Bob, she was the original information super highway.
He smiled. That was all right, people around here have treated him real well over the years. He knew everyone by name. He watched the kids grow up, get jobs, and move away. Twice a year, he’d go to the grade school to talk to kids about safety and respecting the law. Then, when they got there driver’s license, he wou
ld have to pull them over for one thing or another, and he worried about each of them as if they were his own.
That had made up for Jim not having a family of his own, and he wouldn’t change a thing for the world. At least he never had to change diapers. He smiled at that added benefit. This was a quiet little town, and he liked it that way. Heck, the majority of the headaches he got were from parents yelling at him from the stands when he umpired the summer little league games, and he could live with that.
Whew! He was half way home. Looking at his watch, he realized that if he picked up the pace he could make a new record. But then again, the last few months were full of new records. He’d put some extra pounds on over the years and, a short time ago, decided to get back into shape. He tried running, but that reminded him too much of the Army, and weights made his joints ache. He wasn’t sure why the bike was different—it just was. Anyway, he felt more relaxed and slept better since he took it up. That’s a good enough reason to exercise, he thought as the road changed from pavement to gravel. One more mile and he would be home free.
Still a long way off, he could see his home. It was a small log house with a covered porch in the front and a shop in back. Lights were on in the house and smoke was coming from the chimney. But then there were other reasons to get in shape, too, he knew as he smiled to himself. That wonderful woman was always full of surprises. Without realizing it, Jim picked up the pace as he got close to the house.
Most all his life he’d never been influenced by a single woman. Within the past few years, however, he found himself pulled in different directions by two of them. Perhaps fate was trying to make up for lost time, he thought. Jim wasn’t someone who cared for change, and he didn’t feel comfortable having people try to rattle him out of his structured existence.
But Joe and Nikki were good, positive influences. The kind he hadn’t known since his Grandfather. Surely their persuasion could only be good for him. Still, he felt comfortable in his rut of a life and was uneasy about deviating from it. He trusted that they would be there to support him if he did.
Joe and Nikki had become friends. Some days he felt like he was on the wrong end of a tag team wresting match. Joe would work him over against the ropes during the day, then send him home to be worked over by Nikki.
There was never a moment’s rest. Often, he’d find them having lunch at the Main Street Diner and accused them of exchanging notes and plotting the demise of his independence. They assured him, in a not so innocent manner, that they wouldn’t dream of it. He didn’t believe them. Still, they had been like a ray of sunshine on his normally boring life. He wasn’t sure how he had managed in the past, and couldn’t imagine another day without them.
There she was, sitting on the front porch. She stood up, when he rolled to a stop and got off the bike, then she walked to the edge of the porch. She looked down at him with a smile. The white cotton summer dress she wore moved gently in the soft breeze. She looked good in white because it contrasted against her tan skin.
But she was no sun worshipper, he knew. He remembered seeing a picture of her and her mother once. They had the same deep dark eyes and long shiny black curly hair that came from a gene pool originating somewhere in the middle-east.
“It’s good to see you,” she greeted him.
“Nikki! What a wonderful surprise,” Jim said as he walked up the steps and tried to embrace her.
“Not on your life!” she exclaimed as she took a step back and held her hand out in protest. “Not until you’ve taken a shower.” She pointed towards the door. “I laid some clean cloths out for you in the bathroom.”
“Yes ma’am,” he replied teasingly, then marched past her.
“And don’t call me ma’am,” Nikki giggled and slapping him on the butt as he went by. Jim walked in the house and through the living room. When he had left that morning, the place was a mess, but it was now spotless.
“Thank you for cleaning up,” he said, and hesitated. “I see you’ve rearranged some things.”
“I like to think of them as improvements.” She followed him to the kitchen.
“Mmm! What smells so good?” he asked as he passed through the kitchen and into the bathroom.
“Just a little something I whipped up.” She smiled, happy that he’d noticed. “It’s a recipe my grandmother taught me.”
“Oh! Not one of those again,” he said as he turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature.
“I thought you said you liked the last one?”
“I did, I’m just not used to exotic food.”
“Well you’ve got to get weaned off meat and potatoes someday,” she said, and peered into the bathroom.
“I like things just the way they are, thank you.” He was about to take his shirt off when he noticed she was watching.
“Excuse me,” he said, then started to close the door.
“What’s the matter? Are you shy?” she asked, playfully.
His face immediately turned beat red, and Nikki laughed when she saw it. I hate it when that happens, Jim didn’t say as he closed the door. Finally alone, he took off his clothes, opened the shower door and stepped in.
What was it about her that made him feel this way? he wondered. He felt so young and alive when she was around. Of course, it wasn’t hard to figure it out—all he had to do was look at her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And smart, too. She was only in her mid-thirties and she was the head nurse at the county hospital.
He simply had a high school diploma and liked the way she spoke without talking down to him. He guessed that there were a lot of things about her life that were different from his. She came from a rich family, got the best education available, and traveled the world! Jim hadn’t left the county in almost three decades.
One thing was the same though, he thought as he finished his shower and shut off the water. They were both stubborn as mules. That was something that took getting use to.
They say a man picks a woman like his mother. He wished he could’ve known his mother long enough to find out if that were true, he thought sadly as he dried himself off. But then he really hadn’t picked her—he hadn’t even said that word to her. Was he really in love? Yes, of course he was, but he was too afraid to say anything. What if she didn’t feel the same? It would crush him. Jim wiped the condensation off the mirror.
“How could she love you?” he asked the reflection that starred back at him. Jim looked at himself. Five foot ten inches tall, and one hundred seventy five pounds. There was nothing about him that would set Jim apart from any other man in town. Except for the slightly gray hair, he thought as he lathered his face with shaving cream. It made him look distinguished, she had told him. “Old” was more like it. Lord!, I am so much older than she is, he thought, then hung his head in despair. There’s no way she could love you, he told himself as the blade of the razor slid down his face. No, if there’s one word that describes you, Jim Harper, it’s “average”.