Just No Pleasing Lucas

by Lucaslover

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, but I sure wish they were. Thanks for the loan, Mr. Cassidy.



Ben knew that he could become sheriff of Trinity one day. If Lucas ever decided to run for mayor. He had no doubt that he was able to perform the duties. He was grateful to Lucas for teaching him how to take charge of situations, even though Lucas never actually let him take charge. He had overcome his fear that one day Lucas would actually point his pistol at him and pull the trigger. Lucas needed him.

He had almost soiled his pants the night that Lucas slammed on the brakes in the middle of the bridge, the Crown Victoria skidding towards the rail before stopping just short of an insurance claim.

“What color is this gun, Ben?” Sheriff Buck waved the pistol in Ben's face as he backed almost clean through the closed door.  “Well, Ben, what color is it?”

“It's a gray gun, Lucas.”

“A ray gun?”

“A gray gun. It's a gray gun, Lucas!” he repeated his voice rising in pitch as he wondered if he'd make it out of the car alive.”

“Isn't it possible that some people might think it's another color?”

“Well, yes. . .”

“The world can be a beautiful place, Ben. It's just depends on how you look at it.”

Ben opened his eyes and jerked his muscular frame upright in the deputy's chair, glad to see that the office was empty. Floyd had gone out to fetch a couple of cups of coffee just after Lucas had left to keep an appointment with Caleb's teacher Miss Selena Coombs. The sheriff hadn't seemed in a happy frame of mind after Selena's early morning phone call. Ben felt the blood running hotly into his face as he recalled how her dress had come into his care just a few weeks ago. That had certainly been no ordinary night, but he suspected that he had been a tool for Selena and for Lucas, too. What amazed him though was that Lucas had actually shared one of his prized possessions with a man he didn't really respect. He always managed to fall short of Lucas's expectations, he thought, frowning.

Floyd shoved through the swinging glass door into the main reception area of the Sheriff's department. He held a white paper bag between his teeth as he guarded the two medium sized cups of steaming coffee from the shop just down the street. Ben sniffed and caught the scent of warm cinnamon rolls. Sometimes Floyd did seem to show evidence of a brain. Floyd set the coffee down on the desk beside Ben's chair and took the bag of pastries from his mouth.  He opened the bag and thrust it under Ben's nose.  “Have a cinnamon roll?”

Ben fished a pastry out and severed a chunk between his teeth before washing the sweet gooey goodness down with a sip of black coffee. “Ah,” he wiggled a little in the faux leather chair and then swiveled around to face the front door. “Thanks. I needed that.”

Floyd snorted. “Better eat fast. I saw Lucas headed down the street just now doing forty in the twenty-five mile zone. I guess Miss Coombs really did give Caleb a big fat F for that sunflower art project. Whoever heard of a black sunflower anyway. . .”

“Haven't you two anything better to do than gobble cinnamon rolls and swill coffee?” Lucas's deep voice preceded him through the entry. “Aw, never mind. I'm not in a good mood.”

Floyd eyed Ben sideways and shrugged.

Ben looked at the paper sack. Then at Floyd. Floyd finally got the message. “Hey, Lucas, have a pastry?”

“Any eclairs in there?” Lucas smirked.

Floyd grinned. “Sure. I know better than to go to the coffee shop and not come back with at least one.”

Lucas allowed one corner of his mouth to turn up. “Now, see, Ben, Floyd knows how to stay on my sweet side.”

Ben dropped his gaze. There was just no pleasing Lucas.

Caleb stared at this report card. F. In art. All because of one sunflower. He didn't know why sunflowers couldn't be black. It was the way all flowers looked to him since Merlie Ann's death. Besides, he would swear that Miss Coombs had told him to paint what he saw.

She was at the front of the classroom, back from her meeting with Sheriff Buck. Her white blouse was buttoned clear up to her chin, and the gray skirt that hung just below her knees was smooth and moved against her thighs as she strolled from one end of the black board to the other, laying out their homework assignment with a stubby piece of white chalk.

Caleb blinked. Why did they call blackboards “black” when they were mostly green? He considered asking her but decided that colors had cost him enough for one school year. He hated “F's.” Just hated them.

He copied Selena's huge blackboard letters into his assignment book. Fudge. She expected them to read another book before Christmas. Another book report. He looked over at Boone and crossed his eyes.

“Caleb.” Selena's soft voice drew his head around. “Caleb, honey, don't take it so hard. It's only one short book and one short book report. Just one page.”

Caleb slumped in his desk. “Yes, ma'am.” He stared at her from blue eyes that held just a hint of his father's rage. She blinked, but then straightened and asked Sarah McCarty to come up to the board to copy a poem she wanted them to memorize by the end of the week.

At the end of the school day, Caleb pulled his bike from the rack in front of the elementary school building and dumped his books into the basket. He rolled the bike down to the sidewalk but didn't even have time to climb on before Lucas's stopped the Sheriff's car right in front of him. “Hey, Caleb, come over here. We need to have a few words.”

“What about?” Caleb leaned against his bike and waited.

“Come here, son. Everybody doesn't have to know our business.”

“And I'm not your son.” Caleb stuck his chin out.

“We can argue about that later. What I want to know is did Selena change that 'F'to a 'B'?

Caleb shook his head.

Lucas stared at him.  “I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Charming Selena into a 'B' should be easy as pie. She's easy as pie.”

“Didn't try.”

“Why not?”

Caleb gave a tiny grin at the sound of Lucas's exasperation.  “Not worth the work.”

Lucas sighed. “You could use the practice. Maybe not. I thought my little chat with her would do the trick, but something's really gotten up her--uh, she's a might distracted lately.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. He thought it might have something to do with the gossip going around town that Gail was pregnant. He heard things at the boarding house. People talked, not particularly careful to check for little ears. He pulled his ear lobe and waited for Lucas to dismiss him.

“Go on home and do your homework before supper time, Caleb. Don't mess around and get another 'F' from Miz Coombs.”

Caleb climbed on his bike and settled into the seat. Sometimes there was just no pleasing Lucas.

Lucas stared at his son pedaling down the street, faint notes of “Beautiful Dreamer”  carried back to him on the rising November wind. Leaves, red and yellow, swirled on the wind, a dust devil making them dance past the Crown Vic.  He shook his head and put the car into gear, easing on down the road. Places to go. People to see. Deals to conjure.