The Christmas Child (12 page)

“Old and unsafe,” he said when he could talk.

Ida June fluffed up like a mad hen. That was the thing about Ida. She ruffled easily when her friends were insulted. He smiled a little. Ida June ruffled easily over about anything.

“That is the silliest lie ever told,” she said. “Neither you nor GI Jack would hurt a bug.”

“Not us, per se, Ida June. Our humble abode. Certainly, I see his point. A recycling business engenders unstable piles of old bicycle parts, bottles, tins, wires, to name a few potentially hazardous elements.”

“Perfect situation for a curious boy to use his imagination and be creative.”

“Or get injured.”

“Well, we have a problem,” Ida June said, heavily propping an elbow on the table.

“A conundrum,” he concurred.

She shoved a napkin at him and demanded, “Is the pie any good?”

Popbottle smiled behind another forkful. “The best I've had in fifty years.”

Ida June slapped the table and let out a bark of laughter. “Well said, my friend. I won't ask how long since your last taste. That nephew of mine won't touch mincemeat, you know.”

“All the better for you and me. And speaking of Kade, why doesn't he adopt Davey? He's fond of the child.”

“I've been after him about that very thing. Any fool with one eye and half a brain can see he dotes on Davey.” She gave a loud huff. “Why, Kade's practically given him that dog of his, and before Davey came along, dog and master were inseparable.”

“He's reluctant to adopt?”

“To hear his story, the child needs a father and a mother, not a burned-out cop who might only be around half the
time. He's scared spitless, if you ask me. Afraid of loving and losing.”

“Rumor says he'll return to Chicago.”

“Not if I have a word to say about it.” She grinned, a sly, speculative spread of mouth that put a spark of sass in her eyes.

“Why, Miss Ida June, I believe you're up to something.”

“Why, Professor Jones, I believe you're exactly correct.”

 

Sophie looked up from her desk to find Ida June Click standing in the doorway of her classroom wearing a visitor's badge on one shoulder of a pair of bright red insulated coveralls. Hair, white as royal frosting, neatly curled from beneath an elf-green stocking cap. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes were brown and sparkling, and she looked like a character straight out of a child's library book. If she whipped out an umbrella and took flight, Sophie wouldn't even blink.

“Ida June, hello. Davey isn't here. Kade picked him up so I could work late.”

“I know that. They're at the house now, racing around after a football in the backyard like two fools who don't know it's winter.”

Sophie's mouth curved. Beneath Ida June's vinegary statement lay a wealth of affection. Sophie liked the image of a carefree Kade playing with a delighted Davey. She wished she was with them, but the cookie project and other Christmas functions had thrown her behind on her schoolwork. Grades were due in the office before Christmas break.

“Did you come for your cookie order? I'd planned to deliver later tonight.”

Ida June waved her off. “No worry about those cookies,
girl. I don't need them until this weekend for the Victorian Christmas.”

Everyone in Redemption and most of the state knew about Redemption's turn-of-the-century celebration. Many of Redemption's citizens were heavily involved, including Sophie and Ida June. Sophie was still working on Kade.

“So what can I do for you?” she asked, curious now as to the unprecedented visit from Kade's aunt.

Ida June peered intently down the hallway as if worried about being overheard. Then she closed the door with a snap and marched across the gray carpet, spread her feet in a fighting stance and demanded, “Are you seeing old what's-his-name, the principal?”

Sophie marked her spot in the grade book and closed it. “I suppose you mean Biff Gruber.”

“Yes, him,” Ida June said, as if speaking Biff's name would give her a sore tongue. “What kind of name is that for a grown man with a master's degree anyway?”

“‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,'” Sophie answered mildly.

“The Eskimos have fifty-two names for snow because it's important to them. Makes you wonder about old Biff, doesn't it?” Before Sophie could come up with a reasonable response, the older woman insisted, “Well, are you two an item or not?”

Sophie carefully put her pen in the pencil cup on the corner of her desk. Uncertain of where this conversation was headed, she went for honesty. She wasn't interested in Biff, wouldn't be even if Kade had not entered the picture. “No. We never were. To be honest, I'm bewildered that people keep asking me that.”

“Small town, small minds. Two singles working together.”

“Colleagues. Nothing more.” At least not in Sophie's mind.

“I told Ulysses as much. You wear your heart in your eyes, girl. That's what I told him. And your eyes are looking at only one man. My handsome nephew. Spending a lot of time with him, too.”

The room grew warmer. Sophie swallowed but managed to keep her voice even. “Are you matchmaking, Ida June?”

“Well, of course I am,” Ida June said with a dash of irritation. “A woman my age has no time for mincing words and waiting on young people to be sensible. Davey needs a mother and a father.”

“What?” Sophie's heart bumped. Ida June was moving way too fast. Sophie was still coming to terms with being in love. Jumping to marriage and a family made her head spin. Her heart, too.

“Kade told me about Davey's family, or lack thereof. Not a soul on this earth to stand in the gap for him. No one but you and my nephew.”

“And you.”

Ida June harrumphed. “Too old to cut the mustard.”

Sophie could see how much that bothered the older woman. “Not in my book. You've been wonderful to Davey.”

“I can be his great-aunt if a certain pair of adults will cooperate.”

“Ida June,” she said softly, admonishing, “I'm not sure what you're suggesting.” But she had a pretty good idea. If her relationship with Kade moved forward, it would do so on the grounds of faith and love. No other reason. Not even one as precious as Davey could make love happen.

The handywoman clapped a hand on one hip. A tape measure poked out the top of her pocket. “Do you love my boy or not?”

“Which one?” Even though she loved Kade, he had to love her, too, not just Davey.

“Well, both of them.”

Sophie pressed her lips together. This was the strangest conversation she'd had in a while, and an elementary-school teacher was no stranger to bizarre talks.

“Kade and I spend a lot of time together because of Davey. We've become good friends.”

“Poppycock. There's more between the pair of you than that.”

Yes, there was, but a budding love was a fragile thing to be nurtured in private.

Carefully, she shifted the conversation back to Davey. “Social services is still investigating the possibility that Davey has family somewhere. I suppose Kade told you all the details.”

“He did, which is why I'm determined to find our Davey a family before it's too late. Before Howard and his cohorts snatch this child away and you never see him again.”

So much for distraction. Ida June had a one-track mind. Like Sophie, the older woman had grown attached to Davey and didn't want to lose him.

But what could they do short of something crazy like adoption?

The notion struck a resounding chord in Sophie's head. Adoption? Could she do it? Was she ready to be a mother? Would Davey want her?

The police had uncovered enough information on Melissa Stephens to trace her records. Her story was almost as sad as Davey's. A runaway from foster care, her parents were dead and there were no siblings. Davey's father was unknown. The people of Potterville remembered seeing her a few times, described her as quiet and
nervous, but no one remembered her having any friends or social contacts.

“Davey's mother led a very sad and lonely existence,” Sophie mused. “Except for one bright spot.”

“Her son.”

“Yes.” Sophie's chest ached for the woman named Melissa and even more for Davey. “I wish I had answers for you, Ida June, but I don't.”

Yet the seed had been planted and she couldn't stop thinking about it.

K
ade hadn't been this tongue-tied since he was fourteen and his sister's sixteen-year-old friend had kissed him at a birthday party. Sophie B. was killing him—softly and sweetly, but killing him just the same.

When she'd managed to arm-twist him into serving cookies and wassail tonight at the publishing-house museum and talked about dressing for the part, he hadn't expected her clothes to affect him. She was always pretty, but tonight she was a step back in time, a spectacular Victorian lady in long blue velvet. With her dark hair swept up and a tiny hat complete with black veil perched on her head, Sophie took his breath away.

“Wow,” he murmured when he could speak.

Her cheeks turned pink and her eyes sparkled above the high neckline and cameo broach. “I love dressing up for this.”

He glanced down at his pressed gray slacks and black shirt. Twenty minutes ago as he'd splashed on Cool Water cologne and checked the mirror, he'd thought he looked pretty good. But now he was plain vanilla to her blueberry supreme.

As he escorted her to his car her skirt swished against
the side of his legs. “Are you going to be embarrassed with an ordinary guy from the twenty-first century?”

“Don't be silly. I'm just glad you agreed to come.” She slid onto the passenger seat and tucked her heavy skirts with a feminine grace he found alluring. Chin tilted up toward him, she said, “You're going to love the Victorian Walk, I promise.”

He held up a finger to stop the
promise
word, but dropped it again when she laughed. She'd made the promise on purpose to rile him. Nothing could rile him tonight. Nothing except his great-aunt, who'd made kissing noises when he told her he would be with Sophie. The old woman was incorrigible.

Ida June had also stirred the crazy thoughts he'd been fighting of late. Sophie B., her scent, her cookie-sweet voice, her gentle ways lingered in his head even when he was arguing with child protective services about Davey's welfare.

Ida June was pushing him to adopt, but what kind of dad would he be? A messed-up, cynical cop who chafed at Christmas celebrations? Davey didn't need that. Besides, Kade was single. A boy needed a mother. Which brought Kade back full circle to the woman in the passenger's bucket seat.

He had feelings for her. Big-time. She didn't deserve that, either.

“How long is our shift?” He put the car in Reverse and backed from her driveway. The engine rumbled, but he didn't downshift and floor it to show off the powerful engine. Sophie wouldn't be impressed.

“Only an hour. We'll have a fun time, you'll see.”

Forget Christmas. Forget cookies and wassail. He already was, he thought as he drove through the quiet, radiantly decorated neighborhoods toward town center.

Beside him Sophie chattered brightly, filling him in on local color, including a pretty cool story of the town's founder.

“Redemption,” she said, “was born during the Land Run of 1889. One day this was nothing but prairie.” She made graceful gestures toward the landscape. “The next day, the population exploded with tents and wagons and makeshift structures that became a fledgling town.”

“Hard to imagine.”

“Exciting,” she said, sparkling like a jewel beneath the passing streetlights. “And meaningful, too. The man who founded the center of town and bought up claims to make the rest was Jonas Case.”

Kade glanced from the road to her, a pleasant tickle in his chest. “What's meaningful about that?”

Not that he cared, but he liked hearing her enthusiastic recitation.

“Jonas Case squandered his youth as a gunslinger. Purportedly, a very efficient gunslinger.”

“My kind of man. Be good at what you do.”

She made a noise in the back of her throat. “You would have chased him down and arrested him.”

“Probably,” he said with a smirk.

“At some point, Jonas saw the error of his ways and gave his heart to the Lord. He stopped shooting people and began to preach.”

“He was still sending people to meet their maker, just in a different way.”

The comment had the effect he'd hoped for. Sophie's laughter filtered over him like rays of June sun.

“I never thought of it that way, but you're right. He was.” Skirts billowing over the console, she angled toward him. “Apparently, he had a hard time fitting in, even after he
cleaned up his act. People shunned him because of his past.”

“Figures.”

“So he started Redemption for folks like himself. Outcasts, misfits, those looking for a place to belong, a place to start again in peace and acceptance.”

Kade had been enjoying the history lesson, but the parallels between his situation and the gunslinger's hit close to home.

“I saw the scripture at the town well.”

“‘Come unto me, all you who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,'” she recited. “Jonas dug the well. He and others engraved the stone as a permanent reminder of why Redemption exists.”

Redemption. Kade ruminated on the word. Some men didn't deserve Redemption. Maybe he was one of them.

He fell silent, but if Sophie noticed, she was determined to draw him into her celebratory mood.

When they reached the rambling old Newspaper Museum and exited the car, he spotted other ladies in Victorian dress, cowboys, pioneers, and thought he might as well join in. Anything for Sophie.

He offered his elbow. Sophie placed a gloved hand in the crook, a simple, unaffected action, but a fierce protective pride welled in Kade. He might not be a gunslinger, but he took care of his own.

He tugged her close to his side, smiled when she glanced up. Tonight she was with him.

Dangerous ground, a warning voice whispered.

He drew his imaginary six-gun and shot it down.

When they climbed the tall steps, the door swept open and a dapper gent in top hat and a long, fitted coat greeted them. Everyone knew Sophie. Or so it seemed.

“Good evening, sir. Miss Bartholomew,” the man said, doffing his hat.

“Evening, Mr. Martinelli.”

Sophie's pretty curtsy and happy giggle tickled the inside of Kade's chest.

“Are we in a time machine?” he murmured next to her sweet-smelling ear.

“Maybe.” Her eyes shone light gray, dappled blue and gold by the overhead light. “I told you Christmas in Redemption was fun.”

They entered a huge space lit by dozens of Christmas trees. The smell of wassail and pine hung in the air, thick and warm, a welcome respite from outdoors.

“Don't you love those trees?” she asked, motioning with arms that rustled satin and velvet. “They're hand-decorated, homemade, the way they would have been in the early days of Redemption.”

She led him to a stately pine adorned with lacy white crocheted figures and then to another heavy with spicy-smelling cookie ornaments.

“Don't tell me you made this one?” he joked.

She sparkled at him. “I wish I'd thought of it.”

When she looked at him that way, he got lost. He was out of his element, as if his skin didn't quite fit his bones. All these people, all this decency.

“Christmas was simpler then. More personal and caring, I think.” With one finger, Sophie tapped a glittery ball of glued yarn. “Someone's hands took the time to make this. To fill this tree with love.”

Kade battled the usual cynical thoughts. Anything was more personal than mass-mailed ecards and mall Santas who charged to take a kid's picture.

But Sophie didn't deserve his bad attitude. Christmas did seem different here in Redemption. Sure, the town
glittered and merchants hawked their sales like anywhere else, but there was something else here, too. Something better, gentler, more caring.

That was it, he thought as he watched a smiling teenager twirl a younger child in an impromptu dance. People cared.

It was enough to make a man want to celebrate.

He might even break down and buy a few presents.

Astonished at his thoughts, he let Sophie guide him through the enormous old building. They took a while because Sophie being Sophie greeted everyone along the way and introduced him until his head swam with names and faces he'd never remember.

“Good thing we came early,” he said after shaking hands with a firefighter named Zak and the local vet. He would remember those two. Nice guys.

“Can't leave you a stranger,” she said, and he didn't stop to wonder why it mattered.

Eventually they arrived at the far end of the room where a section of long tables spread down one wall. In the center a giant punch bowl steamed with what he assumed was wassail, although the smell was suspiciously like apple juice. On either side of the bowl, homemade cookies were piled high on giant platters.

“Fifth-grade cookies?” he asked, mostly joking.

“Some are. The town council bought twenty dozen and others are donated by local bakers. Aren't they beautiful?”

“Can't argue that.” The whole place was Christmas-beautiful, though not nearly as pretty as Sophie. She sparkled tonight, more glittery than any gilded ornament. “Let me taste test to be sure.”

She poked a cookie in his mouth.

He chewed and swallowed while she laughed at his surprise.

His heart did ridiculous things in his chest.

Whoa, boy. It's only a cookie.

Right, and Sophie was only a woman.

She offered a ridiculously dainty cup of wassail to wash down the peanut butter. He sipped, wondering if he should stick out his pinky and make her laugh some more. He did and Sophie didn't disappoint.

The wassail, however, did. Apple juice and spices. Was that what wassail was?

The trickle of revelers entering the building seemed more enchanted by the juice than he. He found himself dipping and doling nonstop.

Not that he was complaining. A man would be nuttier than he was not to enjoy a date with Sophie.

Together they chatted up the visitors and doled out refreshments. He hadn't talked this much since the last time he'd been on the witness stand and some defense attorney had badgered him for hours. Tonight's conversation was decidedly more pleasant.

Kade was getting into the spirit of the evening when Sophie's principal appeared. Maybe Kade was imagining things, but he had a feeling old stiff-shirt Gruber didn't like him much.

The feeling was mutual.

“McKendrick,” Gruber said stiffly, his glance quickly dismissing Kade in favor of Sophie. Kade couldn't fault him for his taste. “Sophie.”

“Cookies and wassail, Biff?” she said with more courtesy than Kade felt. What was it about the principal that set his teeth on sandpaper?

“You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you.” She dropped a curtsy. Kade wished she wouldn't do that. Not for Gruber anyway. “I see you're into the spirit of Christmas, as well.”

Did she have to be nice to everyone?

“Doing my part.” Gruber, the peacock, preened in a shiny gold vest. Sissy color, if you asked Kade. A watch chain—a
fob
—dangled from an inner pocket.

Peacock, Kade thought again, this time with more vehemence. Go play in traffic.

But Gruber wanted to linger. Imagine that? “We have a nice night for the festivities.”

Kade's small, irritated noise brought a reproving glance from Sophie. He ignored her. Was Gruber a total idiot?

The temperature was freezing.

Painfully agreeable, Sophie said, “As nice as ever.”

Why didn't she tell him to buzz off?

The overdressed peacock lingered longer, nibbling at a gingerbread man. He nibbled. Not bit. Not gobbled. Nibbled. Daintily. Like a girl. What kind of a man nibbled?

“Your class made these?” Gruber asked, one imperious eyebrow arched.

No, Kade thought sarcastically. Santa brought them in his sleigh so you could stand here and annoy the prettiest woman in the building.

But Sophie the diplomat said, “They did. Aren't they delicious? We've made almost a thousand dollars profit so far.”

“Commendable,” the principal murmured with a smile as fake as his mustache. Kade had the juvenile urge to give it a yank.

Instead, he showed his teeth in something less than a smile. More like a dog about to bite. “I think someone over there is waving at you, Gruber.”
Way
over there. South of the Mexican border.

“Really?” Biff looked to Sophie, whose cheeks reddened and eyes bugged as though she wanted to laugh. When she managed a weak smile, he set his half-finished punch cup on the table and said with a hint of threat—at
least, Kade took it that way—“Enjoy your evening, Sophie. We'll discuss your project further on Monday.”

When he'd made a hasty exit, Sophie whirled toward Kade with a hiss of suppressed laughter. “I can't believe you did that.”

He lifted a lazy shoulder. “Gone but not forgotten. The gone is all I cared about.”

“You're terrible.” She whapped his arm for good measure.

He rubbed the spot. “Worse than terrible.”

She had no idea.

“I have to admit I'm glad he left,” she said. “He was acting a little odd tonight.”

“Only tonight?”

“Kade,” she admonished but she giggled, too.

All right, so he was jealous. Gruber made no secret of his admiration for Sophie. “He's not going to give you grief at work, is he?”

Her inner light momentarily dimming, Sophie caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I don't think so.”

Kade saw the speck of worry. Old Biff might react like a peacock spurned and that would not be a good thing for Sophie.

A growl rumbled in his head. At Gruber
and
at himself. He should have kept his mouth shut.

He was glaring daggers at the faraway principal when a voice intruded.

“Lookey here, Popbottle,” a gravelly voice said. “Miss Sophie and Kade is serving up refreshments. I do believe I'll have a taste.”