The Christmas Child (9 page)

Although her toes tingled from the cold, Sophie's whole body warmed with pleasure at the sight of a very serious and proud Davey following the procession. Brown shepherd's robe flowing, he kept one hand on the shepherd's crook and the other on Sheba.

Beside Sophie, Kade snapped photos with her digital camera and made pithy comments that reminded her of his great-aunt.

He gave a thumbs-up as Davey passed.

A quick smile of half-grown teeth flashed in reply. Kade snapped another photo.

Watching the interaction between boy and man touched Sophie. She saw the exchange of glances, the silent communication. She noticed, too, the hero worship in Davey's eyes and the worry in Kade's. He was growing to love the little boy, whether he knew it or not.

So was she.

Man and boy. Boy and man.

Davey's section passed, moving on toward Town Square. Sophie stood on tiptoe, watching until she could no longer see Davey's brown striped headpiece.

Kade lowered the camera and asked, “Can you take a break from the concession?”

She'd been working the booth since the town began filling with people two hours ago. Her toes were numb and her nose was as red as her sweater, but she'd sold plenty of cookies with her fifth graders and their moms.

“My shift is over. From the looks of the crowd, people
are focused on the parade now. The rush will come afterward.”

He hooked a hand around her elbow. “Good. Let's go.”

A local church choir began to sing “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful,” a fitting song for the entourage moving in a steady stream down Grace Street. Sophie fell in step next to Kade, glad for his grip on her arm in the thick crowd.

Along the route, they passed vignettes of actors: Joseph and the expectant Mary, the shepherds in the field, the heavenly host of angels, the search for a room, all ending in the crude stable Ida June and Kade had erected at Town Square.

Music swelled the night air and filled downtown with the wonder and beauty of that first Christmas. Goose bumps prickled Sophie's arms, though not from the cold. To her, this night and the retelling of the birth of Christ was the most special of all Redemption's Christmas celebrations.

With only a little imagination, she could see the angelic host hovering above and hear their hallelujah chorus.

The procession would be repeated several times during the evening, but the largest crowd came early and lingered in the town and in the community center to savor the joyous feelings. And spend money, as Kade had cynically reminded her.

She'd made a face at him, but his comment troubled her. He was enjoying the evening, she was certain, if only for Davey's sake.

A familiar woman turned to say hello. Her eyes widened in speculation when Kade slid his grasp from Sophie's elbow to her hand. He tugged lightly, closing the space between them.

“Crowded,” he said by way of explanation. “Don't want to lose you.”

She didn't want to lose him, either.

Her eyes watered, stung by the cold, but she felt warm all over.

“Cookie sales should be good,” he said.

She nodded, delightfully aware of their joined hands. Although hers were gloved by thick knit, his were bare and strong and utterly protective. She was the safest woman in Redemption. Safe from everything except her own rocketing emotions.

“They already are,” she said. “If sales continue this way, our donation will really help someone.”

“Chosen a charity yet?”

Her hair rustled against the satiny material of her coat as she moved her head side to side. “Not yet. I'm still praying about it.” Yet, every time she neared a decision, something held her back. “I think God has something planned. I just don't know what it is yet.”

He fell silent, as he always did when she mentioned her relationship with God. The silence hurt, reminding her of the one major reason she shouldn't allow her emotions to run amok. Her faith was number one. Yet, she willingly, happily spent more and more of her spare time with Kade and Davey. Part of her knew they needed her. Another part knew her heart was getting involved.
Really
involved.

She slid a glance at Kade's profile. The tense jaw was smoothly groomed, his hair trimmed and tidy, the face handsomely chiseled. But it wasn't his looks, she realized, that captivated her. Although they'd attracted her first, she now saw deeper within to a man who suffered stomach pain and sleepless nights because of some secret, inner torment. But he continued to put himself out there every day for Davey's sake. He'd searched high and low, driven hundreds of miles, interviewed dozens of people. All the
while, he presented a kind and caring face to the little boy who adored him and hid his worry that Davey had no one.

Kade raised her camera in one hand and flashed another photo. While she'd been too busy working the concession kiosk, he'd taken Davey to his place on the parade route and snapped pictures of the festivities as a favor to her. Because she'd bemoaned the fact that she would miss capturing Davey's excitement and pleasure.

Even if she'd been trying, it was hard not to care about a man like that.

They rounded the corner and crossed the street toward Town Square. The trees, dressed in colored lights, illuminated the sidewalk leading up to the stable where a spotlight shone on the sweet and ancient scene. The golden light bathed the Nativity in an almost-holy patina. Sophie sucked in a breath of cold air, touched as always by the display. A donkey shifted restlessly while two sheep from Pastor Parker's farm chewed hay under the watchful eye of a golden retriever and a silent boy.

A lump rose in her chest. “Oh, Kade,” she whispered.

He squeezed her hand. “Sweet,” he murmured.

She'd known the scene would look this way, had even helped set it up, but she'd not expected to feel so moved by the addition of one small boy and his dog.

Davey, with crook in hand, knelt at a right angle to the manger where a small, warmly bundled baby slept peacefully. Mary, beautifully portrayed by the darkly lovely Cheyenne Bowman, kept one motherly hand on the baby's chest. The soft, loving look on her serene face made Sophie wonder how long it would be until Cheyenne and Trace Bowman welcomed a new baby of their own.

Longing pierced Sophie. Longing for a child, for a family, for the man holding her hand.

Oh, dear Jesus. Dear, dear Jesus.

The strains of “Silent Night” drifted from the carolers positioned behind the stable. Sophie swallowed down the lump of yearning and tried to focus on the holy scene.

Kade snapped another photo and leaned close, whispering something in her ear. His breath was warm and moist and fragrant with the candy cane they'd shared earlier. She didn't catch his words, so she tilted her face to his to ask. He gazed down at her with an expression that could only be described as affectionate. Her heart leaped. For a second—one lovely, breathtaking second—she thought he might kiss her. Then, he rubbed his cold nose against hers, smiled softly and returned his attention to Davey.

Sophie savored the feelings that bubbled inside her like a fresh, sweet fountain cola. She was bemused, bewildered and breathless. And happy.

Considering Davey's situation and Kade's high wall of self-protection, she had no business letting her feelings run wild.

But Sophie believed the glass was not only half-full, it was overflowing. And she was overflowing with love for a mute boy and Kade McKendrick.

“D
ad?” Sophie gave the Christmas bow one last tweak and pushed the red-wrapped gift under her father's Christmas tree. Purchased years ago by her neat-freak mother, who couldn't abide a shedding tree, the old artificial pine was losing its luster. Although she'd regret the loss of the familiar, Sophie had always preferred a real tree.

But the tree wasn't the reason for her visit to the childhood home.

“Hmm?” her dad answered absently. Seated in his favorite chair, he was reading the
Redemption Register
with a pen in hand ready to work the sudoku puzzle on the back page.

Affection expanded in Sophie's throat. With glasses perched on his nose and his graying hair mussed, Mark Bartholomew looked every bit the absentminded science professor. Some called him a nerd, a term he didn't mind in the least. To hear her dad's opinion, a nerd was a pretty smart guy.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

Newsprint rustled noisily as he closed his paper. “Sounds serious.”

Still on her knees next to the tree, she twisted toward him with a sigh. “It is.”

“I'm all ears.” He patted the arm of his chair and smiled. When she was younger, she and Dad had resolved all her childhood and teenage angst with her perched on the arm of his chair. Not once had he failed to soothe whatever dilemma she'd been facing.

Even though she wasn't sure he could help her now, she knew he'd listen. She knew he'd care.

She settled next to him, the padded upholstery thin now over the chair's wooden skeleton. But sitting here again, with the man she'd loved first and longest, put the world into safe mode. “You know the way you loved Mom?”

“Still do.” His face was open, honest and a bit nostalgic.

She fought down the protest that always rose when he said those heartbreaking words. Why didn't a man with so much to offer move on and find someone else? Mom had let them all down. How could he still care? Mom wasn't worthy of such devotion.

“I've never been in love before. Not like that, but…” Her voice dwindled away. Dad would understand.

As she expected, he said, “But you're getting there.”

“Yes, I think so.” She shook her head. “I know so.”

“And you're worried.”

“Yes again.” She leaned in for a side hug. “You're the best dad. You understand me better than I understand myself.”

He patted the back of her hand. She noticed, as she always did, that he still wore the plain gold wedding band Mother had given him nearly thirty years ago. She hurt seeing it there, a symbol of one-sided eternal love. They were alike in many ways, father and daughter, and Sophie feared loving as he did. She didn't want to end up rejected and alone.

The thought came out of nowhere. She'd never hesitated to put her heart on the line. Had she? Was she really afraid of love? True, she didn't date much and never had formed a long-term relationship with a man, but she'd consider herself too busy, too happy in her life. Now, she wondered. Had she purposely been avoiding serious attachment until these unexpected feelings for Kade blindsided her?

“Tell me what's going on,” Dad said simply. “Would this most fortunate man happen to be Ida June Click's nephew? And do I need to give him a swift kick?”

Sophie smiled, as she knew he'd intended. The idea of her meek Dad giving anyone, especially a lethal lawman like Kade, a swift kick was silly, but she knew he'd try if Sophie needed him.

“Yes, Kade. And no swift kicks needed. Not for him anyway.” When Dad raised his eyebrows in question, Sophie admitted, “I don't think he has a clue about my feelings, and the truth is, I can't really explain them to myself. But this is different than anything I've ever experienced. It's like the whole world takes on a brighter color and I can't stop thinking about him and I feel really alive when I'm with him.” She made a small derisive sound. “I don't know.”

“Poets have been trying to explain love for aeons. But love is from the soul. It's too big for words.”

“How can I be in love with him? How can I feel so…” At a loss, she lifted both hands in the air and let them flop to her lap in surrender.

“Complete? And a little rattled?”

“Yes. Yes, exactly,” she said. “It doesn't make sense. I've known him such a short time, but I feel like a missing part of me has finally arrived. It's crazy.”

“No, not crazy, honey. God wired us humans that way in the Garden of Eden. A woman for a man. A man for a
woman. Two parts of a whole unit knit together by God's own hand.”

She knew the story of Adam and Eve, but this was the first time she'd seen the significance. Eve was fashioned from Adam's rib. Eve was part of him and Adam was part of her. God's breath, His love, had joined them together.

And therein lay Sophie's deepest concern. She gnawed at the corner of her thumbnail. A blot of black marker stained the inside of her thumb like the dark blot overriding the joy of falling in love. “Kade's a good man, Dad—”

“Never doubted it. My Sophie's too wise to go for a loser.” He made the shape of an L with his thumb and index finger.

Sophie responded to the joke by squeezing her father's fingers together. “But he's not a Christian. Or if he is, if he ever was, he's pulled away from the Lord.”

“Hmm. I see. Now, that
is
a problem. Have you discussed your faith with him?”

“I've tried, but when I bring up the subject, he shuts down.”

Furrows creased her dad's brow. For him, as for Sophie, shared faith was a no-brainer. With faith in God, anything else could be worked out. “Seems I remember having this discussion with you a while back. Before this got serious.”

“He's polite when I mention church or the Lord, but I feel him draw away.”

“Then how has he won my little girl's heart?”

“Oh, Dad, in so many ways. The way he loves Davey. He's determined to find the answers to Davey's missing family. His humor, the respect he shows to me.” She went on to tell him about Kade's reaction to her school's security. “He wants to keep the whole world safe.”

“Especially you and Davey?”

“He hasn't said as much, but I feel it.”

“Sounds like he's falling in love, too.”

She shook her head. “I don't know. Protecting people is his job and his nature. Maybe I'm just like everyone else to him.”

Dad squeezed her shoulder with one hand. “What if you are? What then?”

With a moan, she admitted, “I don't know.”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“Listen to your old man, Sophie. Love is its own excuse for being. No matter what happens, even if the other person never loves you in return, loving is always a good thing. Love fills you up and makes you a better person every single time.”

“You're talking about Mom.”

“And you. And your brother. Different kinds of love, but all of them straight from God's heart.”

“Oh, Dad. That's beautiful.”

“You know what I think?” he asked, tapping her nose the way he'd done when she was ten. “What?”

“I think you've been mad at your mother long enough. Anger and resentment hurt you, not your mom.”

Sophie couldn't hold back a cry of protest. “But she hurt you. And you still love her. You're alone while she went merrily on with her life and a new man.”

The bitterness in her tone caught her by surprise. Was she still so terribly angry?

“Do I look or sound unhappy to you?”

“Well, no.”

“That's because I'm not. I have a good life, a job I enjoy, friends, a great church family and two terrific kids.” Cleo leaped from a windowsill to stare at him as if she under
stood every word. “Oh, yes, and a bossy Siamese cat. I am a happy, content man.”

“I don't understand that,” Sophie argued. “How can you be?”

He drew in a deep breath and shifted to cup her face. “I was devastated when your mother left, but a pair of old Dumpster divers came around here every day for a while to remind me that love never fails. Whether the other person accepts it and returns the feelings or not love never fails. They were right, honey.”

“How?”

“Doing the right thing by extending love when human nature called for anger healed
me.
The more I focused on letting go of my hurt and loving your mother no matter what she'd done, the happier I became and the fuller my soul and spirit.” He kissed her chin and released her. “Choosing to love your mom was the best thing I've ever done for myself. It set me free.”

Tears sprang to Sophie's eyes. All this time, she'd considered her dad as wimpy and passive, a doormat for her mother to walk on. Now, as she compared her feelings for Kade and Davey to those of her father for his family, she finally understood. Even after what Mom had done to hurt her father, he had purposely chosen the higher ground. Sophie had harbored unforgiveness and, as Dad said, the only person she'd hurt had been herself. Her resentment toward her mother and the fear of being alone like her dad had made her wary of finding a love of her own. Then, a battle-weary and heart-wounded cop had leaped into a trash bin, and love had found her.

Sophie slid over the chair arm onto her father's lap for a bear hug. He smelled of English Leather and Irish Spring, the scents of childhood—plain, simple, secure. “You're the best dad in the world.”

“Always good to hear.” He patted her back. “Did I help?”

“Ever so much.” She pushed to a stand, basking for a few seconds in the powerful love she felt for her father and to claim the affection he showered on her. “I love you, Dad.”

“Same here, honey.”

As she reached for her coat and cap, he asked, “Where are you off to so soon?”

“I have an important phone call to make.”

Before she could give vent to her feelings for Kade, before she could trust that love would not fail her, she had a fence to mend. She smiled, anticipating her father's pleasure. “I need to call Mom.”

 

Kade hesitated on Sophie's front porch. He knew where she lived. Had driven past on those nights when he couldn't sleep to make sure she was safe in the little white bungalow. Hers was an older house, probably one of those 1900 historic places prevalent in Redemption. With a small wooden porch complete with cheerful yellow shutters and wooden rockers painted in blue and green, the house was undeniably Sophie's. Bright, happy, joyous. The door wreath was the same. Obviously handmade, probably by her class, the wreath was constructed of recycled Christmas cards cut into leaf shapes and topped with a giant, lopsided red bow.

The sight charmed him. So did she.

A knot formed beneath his rib cage. The thing had started up recently, replacing the burn in his belly, though this was almost as annoying. Almost but not quite. The knot said Sophie was nearby. The woman had him twisted in knots.

He lifted the brass knocker and gave three strong taps.
A sharp gust of wind whipped around the corner of the porch and shoved cold fingers beneath his jacket. Being from Chicago, he ignored the chill. He'd been colder.

He probably should have phoned first.

He waited a couple of minutes, but Sophie didn't respond so he knocked again. Part of him wanted her to open the door. Being in her presence pushed the shadows away and made him feel normal again. More than normal.

The sensible part of him said he should hit the road and leave her alone.

He snorted softly. He was a mess. A certifiable mess. Kade lifted the knocker and tried again. Sophie even had him thinking about his faith, or lack thereof. He wondered if God ever thought about him. Probably not much.

She wasn't home. Might as well move on.

Disappointed, he'd turned to leave when he heard the metallic click of the doorknob.

“Kade!”

He spun around. Sophie, smile as bright and cheerful as a Christmas gift, was framed in the doorway like a picture. She had a pink towel wrapped around her head.

“Got a minute?” he asked.

“Sure. Come in.” She stood aside and allowed him to pass before shutting out the swirling wind. “Sorry I took so long to answer the door. I was washing my hair.”

“I see that.” He motioned to her head, the scent of wet hair and shampoo strong. She looked pretty with her face scrubbed clean and her eyebrows dark and damp. “Go ahead and do what you need to. I'll wait.”

She removed the towel and shook out her hair into a mass of wiggling snakes. “How's this?”

He grinned. “I'm not answering that question.”

She laughed, a full, delighted sound. “Smart man. Let me grab a brush and I'll be back.”

While she was gone, he glanced around the small, jam-packed living room. Decorated for Christmas, the space sparkled. He could smell the fresh little tree standing in one corner with a mound of gifts beneath it. Nearly a dozen were the size and shape of footballs. Must be for the boys in her class.

A Bible and some sort of book were neatly stacked on an end table next to the telephone and a notepad. A simple silver cross hung above the television. He expected her blatant displays of faith to make him uncomfortable, but they didn't. He felt…comforted. Sophie was Sophie, sweet and real. Her quiet, living faith was who she was.

Where that left him, he still didn't know.

Not ready to go there, nor the least bit comfortable with that line of thought, he resumed his perusal of her cheerful house. His gaze had reached a grouping of framed pictures when she returned.

“There. Tell me I look better.” She'd combed the wet hair straight down to touch her shoulders. The color was dark and rich and glossy. Kade secretly thought she would look beautiful no matter what, but he nodded. “Looks good.”

Her grin was disbelieving. “Where's Davey?”

“Ida June. Something about GI Jack, Popbottle Jones and a goat.”