That Christmas Feeling (6 page)

His expression sobered as he continued. “I should have cared more. Sherry didn’t want me on the force here in Buffalo. She would have preferred that I go into business. Be a store manager or run some sort of enterprise. She wanted to live in the city. I’m talking about Los Angeles or New York, you know, where she could have pursued her acting career. But I just couldn’t see myself behind a desk full-time, and I’d already made a commitment to the police academy when I found out she was pregnant. I stuck with my plan, but I understand now how selfish that must have looked to her. It caused a lot of trouble between us.”

“I’m sorry, Rob.”

“Well, a person makes mistakes.”

Claire nodded. “You don’t have to tell me that. I’ve made enough of my own.”

“Good thing I got right with the Lord, or I’d have drowned in remorse by now. It took me a long time to forgive myself for all the stupid, selfish things I did when I was younger. But once I realized that if God—the creator of the whole universe—could forgive Rob West, then it was a done deal. God had erased my mistakes, and I’d better start letting them go, too.”

Claire couldn’t help leaning against his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. “That’s good advice, Rob. I need to do a better job of following it myself. But I hope you don’t regret choosing police work.”

“I can’t regret it. I know it’s what I’m supposed to do.
More than anything else, I want to help people. In high school it was all about fame and glory, you know? Quarterbacking the football team, winning wrestling trophies.”

“Completing an outstanding history project with your brilliant partner.”

He grinned. “That, too. But after a while the hero thing got to feeling shallow. It was what Sherry wanted me for, but not what I wanted for myself. I needed some challenges that really made a difference, you know? Not just pinning some guy to the mat. Or getting a football from one end of the field to the other.”

“Though that is fascinating,” Claire said, holding up one of the decorated place mats.

“Yeah, all right, I confess. I still like football a lot.”

“Okay…and I guess I have to confess I no longer think you’re quite as dumb as a Missouri mule.”

“Hey, I’m smart, Clarence Ross!” he declared. “I’m every bit as smart as you. Admit it!”

“No way!” She giggled as he grabbed her hands. “What are you going to do, Chief, handcuff me?”

“I might, so you’d better start talking, girl. Say ‘Rob West is smart.’”

“No! Let go!” Laughing, she pushed on his chest as he struggled to hold her hands. “I’ll never talk. Na na—you can’t make me.”

“No, but I can do this.”

He kissed her on the lips. Hard. Once. And then again—softer, damper and sweeter.

Claire went weak as shock gave way to pleasure.
Melting against him, she drifted into the kiss, aware of nothing but the delicious pressure of his mouth against hers, the rough graze of his chin, the tightness of his hands as his fingers threaded through hers. When he pulled away, she hung breathless for a moment, suspended in the vacuum his presence had just filled so completely.

“Oh…Rob…” She leaned against the brick side of the booth, the back of her hand to her mouth. Struggling for air now, she realized she was clutching his sleeve and staring into his blue eyes and wishing with every fiber of her being that he would kiss her again.

“Excuse me, sir.” A young waiter stepped up to the booth. “Umm…hey, Chief West. How are things in Buffalo?”

“Hey, Andrew.” Rob turned away from Claire and cleared his throat as he shook the young man’s hand. “Andrew Rodman, this is Claire Ross. Andrew’s been working at Dandy’s for a couple years now.”

“Three years, sir. Started when I was sixteen. Now I’m a freshman in college.”

“Is that right?” Rob raked a hand through his hair. “Time sure does fly. Miss Ross teaches history over at the high school in Buffalo. We had to deliver some stray cats to the humane shelter here in Bolivar and thought we’d get a bite of pizza. Nothing like Dandy’s after a long day.”

The waiter nodded, his eyes glancing back and forth between the police chief and the schoolteacher. “Well, I hate to bother you, Chief, but the manager asked me to tell you that we’re closing down for the night.”

“No problem.” Rob scooted out from the booth. “We’ve got to get back to Buffalo anyhow.”

Claire pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse and gloves. As she slid out of the booth, she felt as though she were exiting a time machine—a place where time had stopped, the past melded with the present and nothing made sense. Rob West couldn’t have just kissed her. That hadn’t happened. Impossible.

She didn’t want a man in her life again. Not that way. Not for a long, long time. Stephen had practically abandoned her at the altar, and she wasn’t about to give away her heart so soon. Certainly not to Rob West. They knew each other well, but they were just buddies. Pals.

As Rob paid the bill, Claire rooted around in her purse on the pretense of needing her lip salve. There was no way she could look at the man ever again. The whole thing was just embarrassing and silly. An accident.

He started for the door, and she hurried after him. Don’t look at him, she told herself. Don’t look. Don’t say anything. Just get in the car.

She climbed into the squad car, and Rob shut the door behind her. They would have to talk, she realized. Two people who had just bared their souls and then kissed each other couldn’t sit for twenty minutes in silence.

It felt like high school, but it wasn’t. They were adults. She had been engaged. He’d been married.

But the kiss hadn’t been any big deal, really. A crazy, impulsive, meaningless thing, that’s all.

“So, methamphetamines,” she blurted out as he started
the engine. “Wow, that’s a big deal for Buffalo, isn’t it? How did you learn someone was running a ring in town?”

He drove without speaking for a moment. She could see his jaw working.

“Traffic stop,” he said finally. “Female ran a stop sign on the square. One of my patrolmen thought she was acting suspicious, so he searched her car. She’d hidden the meth in a pill bottle in her glove compartment. I questioned her at the station, and she told me she’d bought the drug locally. I got a few names out of her. Supposedly her suppliers.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Nope. Then we started running across the stuff on a regular basis—traffic stops, domestics. Not just kids, either. Adults. Even some older folks. A real surprise. We’re seeing more vandalism and petty stealing, too. The sheriff and the highway patrol are seeing the same thing. Everyone’s coming up with identical information. Someone close to Buffalo or even in town has a methamphetamine lab. We just haven’t found it.”

Claire considered his words in silence for a moment, grateful for the passing time and the neutral topic. “I thought people usually built meth labs way out in the country.”

“That’s typical. Farmers keep one of the ingredients in tanks on their property—anhydrous ammonia. It’s a volatile liquid fertilizer that adds nitrogen to the soil, and meth makers steal the stuff to put in their mix of cold pills and household chemicals. Also, meth has an odor, so they like to cook it in remote areas where no one can smell it. Be
sides that, it’s explosive. They’ll often rig up a lab in an old barn or an abandoned trailer. If it catches fire—
boom.
But they’ll be long gone before the fire department gets there.”

“Hard to believe people would take such a risk.”

“Not really. Meth is profitable. It’s also highly addictive. A lot of the makers are using the drug, too, so there’s strong motivation. People will cook meth in the same room where their babies are sleeping and their kids are running around.”

He fell quiet as they rolled into Buffalo and started toward Claire’s house. “Two or three times we’ve found evidence of a lab.” He spoke again, as if trying as hard as she had to fill the silence. “Plastic containers, hoses, burners. Personally, I think the dealers are moving around. Staying one or two jumps ahead of me.”

“Like a chess game,” she said. “Or football.”

The corner of his mouth tilted as he braked in front of her yard. “You know, you’re pretty smart, Clarence.”

She managed a carefree smile as she reached for the door handle. “Well, I hope you catch them soon. And thanks for your help with the cats, Rob. I really appreciate it. I’ll be over at the mansion tomorrow cleaning up, so I should have it ready by your deadline. But you’re not really asking me to paint the place, are you? I mean, that’s too much.”

“I thought you were going to be grading papers tomorrow afternoon.”

One foot on the ground, she pursed her lips for a mo
ment. “Well, that, too. It’s nearly the end of the semester, so I have to give exams and check term papers. That’s why I don’t have time to paint Aunt Flossie’s house.”

“Claire, listen. About what happened at Dandy’s—”

“I enjoyed learning about football, Rob. It was fun. I’ll try to watch a game one of these days. I promise.” She started out of the car. “So, good night.”

“Claire.” His arm shot out, and he caught her hand. “About Dandy’s—”

“It was okay. It was fine. Really.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I—”

“You didn’t. It’s just that I have a lot going on. Like Aunt Flossie—I have to take care of her. And my students. The parade. Christmas. Besides, I went through all that with my fiancé, you know, so I’m not going to…to be…”

“I understand.”

“Well, I’m not sure you do. Because it was awful, and I’m still angry. I’m not as far along with forgiveness and letting go as you are. I was very hurt. I don’t want to be in that kind of place again. Ever. I just prefer to be alone.”

“Yeah, like I would ever hurt you.” He spoke under his breath. “Okay, this is Chief West signing off. And you do have to paint the outside of the mansion. At least the front.”

“Rob!”

“It’s in my report. Gotta follow the rules.” He winked at her, though there was no sign of a twinkle in his eye. “See ya, Clarence.”

Mayor Bloom waved at Rob from across the street. As a large float made of brightly colored tissue paper and chicken wire pulled to a stop between them, a gaggle of squealing, bouncy, ponytailed cheerleaders swarmed it. Crossing toward the mayor, Rob checked his uniform in the bank window. Neatly pressed black shirt and pants, patch on each shoulder, badge, name tag and collar brass with the shiny initials
BPD
—Buffalo Police Department—all in place. He’d made sure his car was washed and waxed to a high shine earlier that morning. Nothing but the best for the Christmas parade.

“How about this weather?” the mayor asked as the two men shook hands. “You couldn’t ask for a better day. Sun’s shining, sky’s blue, temperature’s hovering in the midforties.”

“Just about perfect,” Rob concurred.

“Mrs. Hopper’s got the floats lined up in the right order. Don’t know what we’d do without Dorothy. I spoke to Claire Ross a minute ago, too. She said things are all set with the parking situation at the school.” He paused, eyeing Rob. “She’s down there near the chess club float.”

“Is that right?” Rob assessed the mayor, who appeared to be wearing the slight hint of a smirk.

“Just in case you were wondering, she’s wearing a green coat.”

“Aha.” Rob made a point of checking his watch. “Well, I guess it’s about time to get started.”

“Ten minutes ought to do it. Give the cheerleaders time to get situated on the float.” Bloom nodded. “Last Mon
day morning Jane Henderson called me about Florence Ross’s cats. I hear you all had quite a time rounding ’em up. I went on over to the shelter and gave them all shots and dewormed ’em.”

“I appreciate it, Mayor. That’s an important community service.”

“Yessir, took care of all ten cats. Did the spaying and neutering during the week. I guess you know Claire came over to the clinic on Wednesday and picked out three of ’em.”

“Three cats?”

“Two for her great-aunt and one for herself. Feisty little ball of yellow fluff. She didn’t tell you?”

Rob could see where this was leading. Somehow the mayor had gotten wind of the police chief and the schoolteacher spending time together, and he was not about to pass up the opportunity to pry.

“Haven’t talked to her since the day of the roundup,” Rob said. “I’m sure happy to hear Miss Ross has a couple of her cats back. That ought to take some of the sting out of her bite.”

The mayor chuckled. “I gather she was none too pleased about the raid. Jane Henderson told me Flossie was still squalling when she left. Said she hated to leave you and Claire there to chase down the last of the cats, but you didn’t seem to mind. Said you were planning to take a bunch of ’em over to Bolivar?”

“That’s right.”

“Ol’ Dandy’s sure makes good pizza. I’ll tell you what.”

Rob struggled to stifle his ire. One of the blessings of
small-town life—and certainly its greatest bane—was the grapevine. Everyone knew everyone else’s business, or made it a point to find out. Neighbors checked on each other, and folks spent a good part of each evening sitting on the front porch watching the comings and goings of the community.

For a policeman, this was ideal. If an elderly woman fell while checking her mailbox, no more than five minutes went by before someone found her. Kids had a hard time getting into trouble, with everyone snooping over fences and craning necks to see into distant living-room windows. If someone got a new car, or dog, or wife, the whole town knew about it within the hour. Calls to the police station generally came from friends and neighbors who had spotted a problem, and Rob considered it a privilege to do his part in resolving any disturbance that marred Buffalo’s quaint serenity.

But he had no desire to have his own private life strung out like grandma’s wash for everyone to see and discuss. He could just about clobber Andrew Rodman right now. No doubt the young waiter at Dandy’s had friends in Buffalo, and he had been eager to report that he’d seen the police chief kissing the schoolteacher.

Everyone in town probably thought they were an item, even though Rob had refrained from calling Claire all week. Not that he hadn’t thought about her a lot. More than a lot.