Snowfall on Haven Point (26 page)

She was so terrified of letting herself love Marshall that she wanted to ruthlessly take a chain saw to any sapling of emotion that might be growing between them.

If she continued to do that, yes, she might be safe. Blessedly secure.

But she would also miss out on new leaves in the springtime, a shady spot to rest in the summer. Birds' nests and tire swings and tree houses.

Joy.

The great thing about trees is that when one falls down, you can plant another one. It won't be exactly the same and it will take time to grow, but if you pick carefully and take care of it, it can even be stronger and healthier than the one that fell.

Did she have the strength to take the risk? To wield a watering can instead of a chain saw and let the feelings she already had for Marshall take root and grow?

She wasn't sure.

“Can we go in? My feet are cold,” Will announced, just as impatient as he was that first day she had stood at this doorstep, afraid to walk inside and face Wyn's grouchy injured bear of a brother.

Only this time the injured bear was
hers
and she was afraid to face him for entirely different reasons.

She forced herself to set aside her turmoil to focus on her son for now. “Yes. Of course.”

They didn't see Marshall when they went inside and Andie assumed he must be in the den again or his nearby bedroom.

As she had a work project to finish before the holidays, she and Will retreated to her bedroom. She was lucky he could entertain himself so well and was content to color or play with Sadie and the few toys he had brought along from their house, but after about an hour, his four-year-old patience wore out.

“I need a drink of water,” he announced.

She looked up, her eyes a little unfocused from staring at the computer screen. “Okay. But I don't want you bothering Marshall.”

“I won't,” he promised and left the room with Sadie at his heels.

A moment later, though, she heard the deep notes of Marshall's voice followed by the higher ones of her son's through the doorway Will had left open.

She wasn't ready to talk to him yet, but she also didn't want Will to pester him if he was busy. Needing a break anyway, she rose from the small desk in the guest room and headed for the kitchen.

She found both males leaning against the cabinet in almost identical poses—though Marshall was on crutches. They both held glasses of water and one of the sugar cookies she and the children had made the previous afternoon and they both wore the same guilty expression at being caught eating them when she walked in.

She tried to quash the little burst of tenderness but didn't completely succeed. “We were trying to stay out of your way, as I assumed you would be working.”

“No need,” he said. “I was working, but I'm kind of at an impasse right now. I was just asking Will if he wanted to watch a movie. Wyn has a whole collection of Christmas movies, just about every one ever made.”

She thought of the work she still needed to finish and her own limited options for entertaining her son.

“Sounds like fun.”

“You can watch, too, if you want,” Will said.

“That sounds really nice. Heavenly, actually. But I've got a few more phone calls to make and need to finish my project.”

“You go,” Marshall said. “Meantime, we'll be busy watching
The Grinch
.”

“I love Max in that show,” her son informed him. “That dog is almost as cute as Sadie.”

“Almost,” Marshall agreed.

“Can Sadie watch with us? She likes Max, too.”

“Don't know why not,” he said.

The two of them headed into the den, talking about Whos and roast beast and looking completely adorable together, and she, with regret, returned to her work.

Sometime later, she looked up from her computer and realized more than an hour had passed since they started the movie. Where did the time go when she was working?

She stood and stretched, rotating her neck and shoulders, then decided it would probably be a good idea to see if Marshall needed rescuing from a boy and a dog.

When she walked into the den, she first spotted the cheerful Christmas tree Chloe and Will had decorated, with its humble mix of hand-cut snowflakes and paper chain garland. Snowflakes fluttered down outside, creating a picture pretty enough to use on a website.

“How's the—”
movie
, she started to say but cut her words off when she spotted the two of them.

Marshall was sound asleep in the easy chair, his head back and his mouth open a little. Will was asleep tucked in next to him, his cheek resting on Marshall's arm. Even Sadie was in on the napping action, curled up on the floor next to both of them.

For a moment, all she could do was stand and stare at them as her emotions bubbled over.

Tree houses and tire swings and birds' nests.

Could she find the courage to embrace all the possibilities? The risks, yes, but also the immeasurable rewards?

His eyes fluttered open, and for a brief second, they were unguarded, vulnerable—and filled with a tenderness that made her catch her breath. Too soon, he blinked and seemed to awaken more fully.

“Some babysitter I am,” he said, his voice low. “I can't believe I'm sleeping on the job.”

“Are you kidding?” she whispered back, her voice a little ragged as she tried to gather her jumble of emotions. “I can't believe you actually got Willie to take a nap. He always has such a better day when he does, but he's been claiming since he could string full sentences together that big boys don't take naps.”

“Apparently some of us do,” Marshall said. He cleared his throat. At the sound, Will woke up and looked around in confusion. His gaze landed on the big television, still running.

“I missed the movie!” he exclaimed, his lower lip quivering.

“We'll catch it another time, pal,” Marshall promised.

“No, we won't,” he whined. When he
did
nap, Will invariably woke up cranky, unfortunately. “My mom says we're going back to our house today.”

“But, honey, we have this movie at our house. You can watch the end again there,” she soothed.

“I don't want to watch it there. I want to watch it with Marshall.”

He was gearing up for a full-fledged tantrum and she needed to head it off before it began.

Marshall beat her to the bunch. “Tell you what,” he said. “We can still watch it. You come back here after your Christmas party this afternoon and we'll try to figure out where we both fell asleep and watch until the end. Does that work?”

“I guess,” he said, drawing that pouty lower lip in a few millimeters.

“Maybe we can even have popcorn,” Marshall said.

That did the trick. “I
love
popcorn,” he said, getting more animated.

“Who doesn't?” Marshall said.

“Speaking of parties,” Andie said, “we need to get moving if we're going to make it on time. Go find your shoes and coat.”

He started to slide down, careful of Marshall's leg, but paused for a moment to throw his arms around him. “Bye,” he said, then hit the floor and took off, his postnap cranky mood entirely gone now in the excitement of being almost five and heading to a Christmas party with his friends.

She watched him go, now with Sadie at his heels again, before she turned back to Marshall.

“Thanks again for keeping him entertained,” she said. “I was able to finish my project and clear my slate for the holidays.”

“I'm glad.”

“I have a few errands to run this afternoon. I'll do those while Will is at the party and be back here before Chloe gets home.”

“Sounds good.”

“Do you mind if Sadie and Mrs. Finnegan stay with you?”

“No. Why would I mind? I hardly see the cat and Sadie is pretty good company.”

“I'll put her out now so you won't have to do it while I'm gone.”

The tension again shivered between them. She wanted to say something else, but Will came back in, chattering about his boots and his friend Ty and the games they would play at the party, and the moment was gone.

* * *

T
HE
HOUSE
SEEMED
empty without any of the Montgomerys—except the cheerful little dog and the shy cat, anyway.

Marshall couldn't seem to settle. He moved from the sofa to the recliner to a chair at the kitchen table. He even tried stretching out on his bed but couldn't get comfortable anywhere.

The cute little fur ball seemed to pick up on his restlessness. When he finally headed back to the kitchen to take some ibuprofen, she went to the back door and circled around a few times.

“Need to go out again?” he said, and she yipped in response.

He opened the door for her and stood for a minute enjoying the cold air and the stellar view of the vast mountains.

The day had been full of surprising pleasures. He never would have imagined the quiet, sweet joy he'd felt when Will had insisted on sitting next to him to watch the movie.

He was going to miss both the boy and his sister like crazy when they went home later that day. He wasn't sure why, but they both seemed to like him. That morning before school, Chloe had rushed in to tell him goodbye, and she had hugged him, too, as well as kissed his cheek, then giggled at the stubble he hadn't shaved away yet, which had just about stolen his heart.

For most of his life, he had convinced himself he wasn't good with kids. Wyn and Wyatt—and Kat, for that matter—had been such wild little creatures, always in and out of trouble, and whenever he tended them for his mom, it seemed like one or the other ended up crying and making him crazy.

He had always told himself he didn't want anything to do with kids, that he would probably be a lousy father. Maybe that had been at the core of why he didn't fight harder when Nikki asked him to sign away his parental rights.

He had always thought he wasn't patient enough or loving enough to provide what a kid needed. If that were so, why would Will and Chloe seem to like him?

And if he had something to offer them, what about his own son?

The dog came back to the porch quickly. Marshall opened the door for her but didn't go inside himself.

He had a son who needed him and it was past time he stepped up, no matter the consequences. He needed to tell the Jacobses and he suddenly had the burning assurance that he had to do it now, before he lost his nerve.

Without giving himself time to reconsider, he hobbled back into the kitchen and found the envelope he had prepared months ago, right after he found out Nikki had died.

The snow had been falling steadily, but it wasn't heavy. Still, he had to take care as he maneuvered the crutches through the few inches that covered the sidewalk.

He rang their doorbell and waited, impatient now to get everything out in the open finally. Louise Jacobs answered, her eyes red and upset, her face blotchy. It looked as if she had been crying and he was about to make things worse.

“Sheriff Bailey! Come in! Are you all right? Is Andrea all right?”

“Yes. Fine. I needed to talk to you about something. About Christopher, actually. But it can wait. This looks like a bad time. I'll come back.”

“What has he done now?” she asked, her voice defeated and her eyes welling with tears.

“Nothing. I—” He couldn't think how to begin, the words all tangling together in his head.

He shouldn't have come. He should have just waited until after the holidays.

Herm Jacobs came into the room then, round and bald with an expression that had always seemed kind to Marshall.

“What's going on?”

“The sheriff needs to talk to us about Christopher,” Louise said, her voice hitching with emotion. “It's bad enough he's been suspended until the week after school starts in January. Now he's in trouble with the law, too!”

Marshall straightened. “He's been suspended? Why?”

“Fighting with another student,” Herm said. “A younger boy, too. One of those Laird kids from Sulfur Hollow.”

He knew the family, as several members had come through his jail. They were all rough and rowdy, quick to fight and mean. The week before he broke his leg, he'd caught one young Laird stealing beer at the convenience store, bold enough to do it even with the county sheriff in full uniform just one aisle over.

“He claims the other kid stole a girl's cell phone and he was just trying to get it back for her,” Herm went on. “Meanwhile, the other kid said
Christopher
is the one who took it. The principal said either way they shouldn't have been fighting, so they were both suspended for a week.”

“If it's any consolation, those Lairds are trouble,” Marshall said.

“I appreciate you saying that, but this is just about the last straw. We're at our wit's end with that boy. Fighting, failing his classes, always in trouble.” Herm sighed. “But that's not your worry, Sheriff.”

He gripped the envelope that contained proof, as far as he was concerned, that it
was
his worry.

“If the law's not after him, what did you want to talk about? If he's not doing the job you want on the shoveling, tell me and I'll set him straight. We'll go out and practice together.”

“He's doing a fine job.” He gripped the envelope more tightly again, not sure where the hell to start.

The beginning was as good a place as any. “I came to tell you something. Show you, actually. You, uh, might want to sit down.”

Apprehension flickered over both their expressions, but they sank onto the sofa together. Herm reached beside him for his wife's hand, a tender, protective gesture that moved Marshall.

He sat down across from them. After opening the envelope, he extracted the contents and passed over the first form.

Louise took it from him and she and her husband read it together. As he waited for them to finish, Marshall thought this just might be the most excruciating moment of his life.