An Angel for Dry Creek (19 page)

“You know, he didn't seem bad for a hit man,” Glory mused as she wrapped herself in the blankets she and Matthew had picked up from his house.

From the outside office the strains of the hymn “O Holy Night” reached them in the cells.

“Somebody thought to bring a CD player,” Matthew noted.

“And spiced cider.” The sweet apple smell began to cut through the basement smell in their cell.

Just then Sylvia stepped through the door from the deputy's office. She was wearing a red Santa's hat and carrying a big box tied up with a silver bow. Behind her came the rancher Garth Elkton, carrying a CD player and a large cup of cider.

“Merry Christmas,” Sylvia shouted, and suddenly it was.

An hour later Glory folded up the metallic paper. Sylvia and the rancher had set up a coffeepot of spiced cider outside. There was unmistakable tension between the two of them, but they'd done their job of delivering Christmas cheer very well. They'd even brought a large plate of cookies, compliments of the ladies at the
church. There was more than enough for all the deputies and inmates. Of course, the only inmates were Glory, Matthew and the Bullet, as he called himself. Glory shuddered at the name.

Sylvia had sat with Glory while she opened the silver box. It contained a dozen jars of homemade jam from the booth the women of Dry Creek had set up outside the barn tonight. Chokecherry jam. Rhubarb jam. It couldn't be a more perfect gift. Every time Glory opened a jar she'd think of the people of Dry Creek. She looked across the cell at Matthew. There was one person she couldn't bear to remember only with jam.

“The twins will be sleeping now,” she said.

Matthew grunted. He'd been waiting for a romantic moment and it wasn't easy to find one in a cramped cement cell in the middle of winter. When they'd stopped by his house for Glory to change to jeans and a sweatshirt, he'd picked up the gift he'd bought for her. He was waiting for the right time to give it to her, but maybe that moment wouldn't come tonight. He might as well do it now. At least they were alone—something that rarely happened, as one or the other of the deputies was always walking back to chat.

“I have a present for you.” Matthew reached into the pocket of his black leather jacket and pulled out a small box wrapped in white tissue paper. “It's not much, but—”

Glory's face lit up. “I got a present for you, too, but it's at your house.”

“You've already given me the best Christmas gift.” Matthew handed her the box. “Being an angel in this pageant was important to my boys.”

Glory opened the little box and pulled out a silver
necklace charm in the shape of an angel. “It's beautiful.”

“I'll always remember what you've done for me and my boys,” Matthew began. He was a man accustomed to words, so he had no excuse for not being able to just spit out the words that would tell Glory what he was feeling. But those words were hard. He wished he were a better man. He knew Glory deserved someone better. Someone whose faith had not been shipwrecked. He wasn't going to ask her to settle for less than she deserved and he wasn't going to ask her to wait for him to become the man she deserved. He just wanted her to know he wished it were different.

Before Matthew could speak again, a burly barrel of a man stomped through the door.

“Captain!” Glory whispered in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

 

It took the captain only an hour to get Glory and Matthew out of the cell. “There's feds all over Dry Creek by now. Frank talked to that grocery-store manager and we found out the hit had been ordered by the men selling the stolen meat. They were afraid you'd put the pieces together and talk to that store manager. He cracked just like they suspected. They located you through the AP wire—that silly angel story.” The captain shook his head. “You were lucky. That hit man—” The captain shook his head again. “When they ran his fingerprints, they didn't find anything. But then they checked with an informant and half the bureau headed to Dry Creek. Funny, you folks catching him here on a speeding ticket.”

Glory shrugged. The best story of her police career,
and she'd never be able to tell it around the water-cooler.

 

Glory took her time repacking her suitcase. She was upstairs at Matthew's house and the early-morning sun was just beginning to warm up the sky. The captain had insisted she return with him, and he was right. Until the business of the contract on her was settled, she didn't want to jeopardize Matthew or the boys. So, instead of thinking of excuses to stay another day, she folded her socks and laid them in the suitcase one pair at a time.

Even inside the house, Glory could feel the activity in Dry Creek. The captain was outside now talking with the federal agents who were combing through Dry Creek looking for clues. They were mildly puzzled that a pro like the Bullet would trip up on a traffic ticket, but they were so relieved to have him in custody they didn't press their questions.

Finally, Glory snapped the lid shut on her suitcase. It was time.

Glory started down the stairs for the last time, smiling slightly when she came to the step where Matthew had fallen. That one step had changed her whole life. They should put a plaque there, she mused.

Matthew was sitting on the sofa waiting for her. Glory had half expected him to be outside checking with the feds to make sure they kept her safe, but he appeared willing to let them do their jobs now that they were here in such numbers.

With each step down Glory took, she tried to think of something suitable to say to Matthew. But her mind was as empty as her heart was full. None of the words seemed right.

It wasn't until Glory reached the last step on the stairs that she realized what Matthew was doing. He was staring at the portrait of his late wife, Susie. Glory had put all of the twins' presents down under the tree so that they'd see them when they came over later this morning. She hadn't wrapped the portrait, so they could see their mother the first thing. She hadn't counted on Matthew sitting on the sofa silently weeping in front of the woman's picture.

All of the hopeful words that Glory had been trying to form died unspoken. What could she say to a man who was still so in love with his late wife that he sat there weeping?

“Take care of the twins.” Glory managed the words. She focused on Matthew's back. “I'll stop at Mrs. Hargrove's to tell them goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” The word seemed dragged from Matthew.

He turned to look at her. Glory meant to look away, but she couldn't. The pain and despair in Matthew's eyes struck deep inside her. His cheeks were wet with new tears and his eyes were red with unshed ones. He must still love his wife very much.

“You're not going?”

“I'll call,” Glory said as she stumbled to the door. It was time for her to leave.

“But—?” Matthew protested, and then mumbled in defeat, “Maybe it is best for now. You'll call?”

Glory nodded as she opened the door. She didn't trust her voice to speak.

 

The Bullet waited impatiently for morning. He had one call coming, and he didn't want to waste it on the answering machine.

The Bullet punched in the numbers and held his breath. One ring. Two rings—

“Hello, Millie's place.” A man's voice answered.

The Bullet almost hung up, but he needed to know. “Is Millie there?”

“Forrest, is that you?” The man's voice warmed. “It's me. Douglas from Spokane.”

“Douglas?”

“Yeah, I got Millie's number off the shipping label you left and called to wish her a Merry Christmas. We got to talking and she invited me out to spend the holiday with the two of you. Only you never showed. You all right?”

“Not exactly.” Relief poured through the Bullet. Douglas would take care of Millie. He'd ask him to take her back to Spokane. No one would find her there.

A
lmost two months later, Glory was sitting at her drawing board in the Seattle police station. She was spending as much time as possible at work. The captain had insisted she stay with him and her mother until the federal agents arrested the distributors in the cattle-rustling ring. Glory had given in to the captain rather than argue. Besides, she hadn't wanted to be alone. For weeks she kept expecting to hear the twins giggle, and then she'd look up from her sketching or her reading and realize she'd probably never see them again—or their father.

Being with her family helped her feel better, but she couldn't stay with them forever. The feds had arrested the distributors last week, and she had moved back into her own apartment. The distributors had squealed loud and clear, but they didn't know enough to help the feds find the actual rustlers. Still, Glory was safe.

She had thought that when she moved back into her apartment she'd feel more like her old self, but she
didn't. Her life stretched forward with nothing but gray in it.

Glory laid down the black pencil she held in her hand and sighed. The face of crime never changed. All of the perpetrators were beginning to look alike. Actually, in her moments of acute honesty, she realized they all had a tendency to look like Matthew. It didn't help that today was Valentine's Day and that was the deadline she'd set for him. When she first returned to Seattle, she'd had a message on her answering machine telling her he'd call later when he had things worked out. Later was stretching into never as far as she could tell. If he hadn't called her by today, she decided that someplace deep and cold she'd bury her hopes of being with him. Like the North Pole. Or maybe Siberia.

“Anyone home?” Sylvia stood in the door of Glory's small office with her hands behind her back and a secretive smile spreading across her face.

“Come in.” Glory welcomed her friend, grateful for the distraction. “What brings you here on a work day?”

“Roses,” Sylvia replied as she stepped into the office. “Or should I say one rose?”

Sylvia held a vase with a yellow rose. “For you—from some of the kids.”

“John and K.J.?”

Sylvia nodded as she set the vase on the corner of Glory's table. “They still feel bad about that contract business.”

Glory chuckled. “Tell them thanks for the rose and for not fulfilling the contract.”

Sylvia nodded as she settled into a chair. “Don't suppose you heard from anyone else on Valentine's Day? Say someone from Dry Creek?”

Glory snorted. “Of course not. It would appear the phone lines don't work between here and Dry Creek, even though Garth Elkton seems to do fine.”

Sylvia blushed. “Garth only called once—and that was to ask about the kids. And you,” Sylvia continued. “He asked about you. Said something about Matthew being depressed. Speaking of whom, I thought Matthew asked you to call?”

“But that was months ago. He should call. I wouldn't know what to say.”

“Well, maybe he doesn't, either.”

“He could send a postcard.”

Sylvia winced. “Ever try to put your heart on a postcard?”

“Even that man—the Bullet—sent me a postcard from prison. To apologize. And let me know he's in a Bible study there. He managed to write.”

“Well, don't be too hard on Matthew. After all—” Sylvia stood up and flung her arms wide “—he came all the way to Seattle to see you.”

Glory shook her ears. She wasn't hearing right. “What?”

“He came all the way to Seattle to see you,” Sylvia repeated with satisfaction in her voice. “Garth brought him.”

“Oh.” The pieces clicked into place now. “Garth brought him?”

Sylvia nodded. “Garth thought the two of you needed to talk.”

“You don't suppose it's the other way around, do you? That Garth wanted to talk to you and Matthew is his excuse?”

“Don't be silly. Garth didn't even know where to find me. He had to hunt on foot for the center. Almost
got into trouble until John rescued him. By the way, Matthew's taking you out to dinner tonight.”

“I'm busy.”

“I already told him you were free.” Sylvia winked. “Give the guy a break. It's Valentine's Day. And he's taking you to dinner at the top of the space needle.”

“He won't be able to do that,” Glory protested in relief. “People had to make reservations weeks ago for Valentine's night there.”

Sylvia smiled. “I know. Matthew says he made them weeks ago.” She turned to leave and then said over her shoulder, “Wear your black dress—with the pearls.”

“It's too short.”

“No, it's not.”

 

The dress was too short. Glory frowned at herself in the mirror. Especially to be with Matthew. She didn't want him to think she was trying to get his attention. If he wasn't interested in her in blue jeans, he wouldn't be interested in her in a black dress that showed more leg than it should.

The doorbell of her apartment rang. That must be him. She'd told Sylvia she'd meet Matthew at the foot of the needle. But Matthew was a stubborn man. He'd told Sylvia he had hired a limo to take them to dinner, and she would be picked up at six-thirty.

Glory almost walked away from the door instead of toward it. She wasn't looking forward to tonight. She expected Matthew did want to talk to her, to explain how sorry he was that he was unable to be more to her than a distant friend because of his feelings for his late wife. But Glory would just as soon skip the speech.

The doorbell rang again.

When Glory answered the door, Matthew stood there
in a black tux holding a dozen red roses. She'd never realized how good he would look in a tux. His chestnut hair was brushed back in soft waves. His freshly shaven chin was set in a determined smile. His blue-green eyes looked hopeful.

It was too much. Glory almost shut the door in his face.

Matthew watched the emotions chase themselves across Glory's face. He'd held his breath until she opened the door, fearful she wouldn't come, and when he saw her he almost couldn't get his breath anyway. Glory was dazzling. Her golden-bronze hair was pulled up in the Grecian-goddess style he well remembered. She could be Venus with arms. Her eyes went from molten to icy in the space of a heartbeat. Quicksilver. That was Glory. She wore a black dress that was too sophisticated and sexy for him. He wondered if he'd even get the nerve to talk to her when she looked so polished. And then he saw it. Around her neck she wore a little silver angel charm on a chain.

Glory saw the direction Matthew's eyes were taking and stifled the impulse to hide the charm with her hand. She'd forgotten to take it off. She was so used to wearing it under everything she wore and not having it show that she'd forgotten about it. She hadn't realized the low-cut black dress would reveal that much about her.

Matthew smiled. “I'm glad you're wearing my angel.”

Glory gritted her teeth and nodded. “I like silver.”

 

Sitting in the restaurant at the top of the space needle was like sitting on top of the world. The tables were arranged in a circle on the inside rim of the revolving restaurant. Each table had a big window to view the
city below. At night, the lights below sparkled clear to the ocean.

“How are the boys?” Glory asked politely as she folded the linen napkin on her lap.

“Fine. Thanks for calling them at Mrs. Hargrove's. They get so excited.”

Glory nodded. “I'm fond of them.”

“They like you, too,” Matthew replied.

“They have really good bread here,” Glory said as she took another piece of fresh sourdough from the basket.

Matthew despaired. Were they going to small-talk the night away?

“My boys aren't the only ones who like you.” Matthew took a deep breath and plunged. There, he'd started it.

Glory looked at him skeptically.

Maybe, Matthew thought, he needed to be more specific. “I like you, too.”

Glory smiled woodenly. “Thank you.”

Silence stretched between them.

“When you went away, I felt like Job,” Matthew finally said. Glory looked at him quizzically. He had her attention. “The day Job said, ‘He hath taken me by my neck, and shaken me to pieces.' That was me with God. He needed to get my attention and turn me around before I could be any good to Him or anyone else. Fortunately, He did….”

Matthew had his hand lying on the table and Glory reached over to cover it with her own. “I'm so glad,” she said.

“I've never prayed so much in my life. Not even in seminary. Now I know what it means to wrestle with God. You lose and win all at the same time.”

Glory looked into Matthew's eyes. If she hadn't been so distracted by her own emotions earlier, she would have noticed the peace she now saw there.

“I went up to Havre for a couple of weeks and stayed with an old minister friend of mine,” Matthew continued. “I never listened before when he said other ministers have gone through what I did.” Matthew smiled. “I thought I was the only one who'd ever been deeply disappointed. He told me I needed to learn I wasn't in control of the world. God is. As believers, we can pray to Him, but our job isn't to carry the world on our shoulders. Our job is to trust.”

“You're going back to the ministry, aren't you?” Glory asked softly. Joy rose within her.

Matthew nodded. “In Dry Creek for now. I don't want to move the twins again, and this way I can keep working at the hardware store, too.”

“Mrs. Hargrove got her wish, after all.”

“Mrs. Hargrove is so pleased with me she's even watching the twins for me while I'm here.”

Glory smiled. “So this is what you wanted to tell me. Sort of like the steps in Alcoholics Anonymous where you go and speak to the people you've met and tell them you've changed.”

Glory gave a sigh of relief. She didn't know what she'd expected of the evening, but it wasn't this. She was happy about Matthew, though, and glad she'd come to dinner.

“No,” Matthew said in alarm. “That's not it. I mean—that's part of it. But I can't stop with that.”

“Oh. I haven't done something, have I? Something I need to apologize for?”

“What could you have done?” Matthew asked in astonishment.

“Then it must be you. Did you do something you need to apologize to me for?”

Matthew finally realized what she was talking about—the AA practice of asking for forgiveness. “No! This has nothing to do with AA.” Matthew was starting to sweat now and it was February in Seattle. “I guess the subtle way isn't working. I'm trying to work up to asking you to marry me.”

“Marry you?” Glory was dumbfounded.

Matthew grimaced. He hadn't meant to blurt it out quite that way. “Well, now that I'm back in the ministry and…”

Glory's heart went from hot to cold. “That's why you want to marry me,” she said flatly. “Because you're in the ministry and every minister needs a wife.”

Just then the waiter appeared with their dinners. “Blackened chicken for the lady and grilled mahimahi for the gentleman. Will there be anything else?” The waiter beamed.

Glory found her teeth were beginning to ache from the effort to keep her jaw from clenching. “If you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to go, ah, powder my nose.”

Glory stood and walked to the ladies' rest room.

Matthew stared after her in dismay. How had everything gone so wrong? He knew he wasn't a Don Juan, but he hadn't expected to chase a woman away from her dinner with his proposal.

Glory stood in front of the full-length mirror in the rest room and counted to ten. She supposed she shouldn't be so angry. At least Matthew had been honest about what he wanted. He hadn't pretended to have a feeling that he was apparently reserving for the mem
ory of his late wife. Glory sighed. It was so hard to compete with a dead woman. But still, the marriage offer did come from Matthew.

Matthew watched Glory walk back to the table. She held her head high with pride, and he scrambled around in his mind for words to apologize with….

“All right,” Glory said quite calmly as she picked up her fork. “I'll marry you.”

“What?” Matthew's roar was so loud the other people in the restaurant looked at him. He didn't care.

Apparently Glory did care. “Eat your fish. It'll get cold.”

Matthew was speechless.

“Well, you did ask me,” Glory reminded him after a moment of silence.

“But—” Matthew looked at her. “You don't seem very happy about the idea. I don't want you to marry me out of pity.” Matthew had a sudden insight. “It's the boys, isn't it? You're marrying me for the sake of the twins. You think they need a mother.”

Glory's heart broke. She'd forgotten. She couldn't marry Matthew. “I can't be a mother.”

“But you like the twins.”

“I love the twins. But I can't have children myself. I'm sorry, I should have told you before I accepted your proposal. I, of course, withdraw my acceptance.” Glory speared another bite with her fork. “Delicious chicken.”

“Hang the chicken,” Matthew said. The muscle along his cheek started to twitch. “Look at me. We're not going to get married for the boys or for the ministry.”

Glory laid down her fork, but she couldn't look at
him. Not square in the eye. She didn't want him to see the tears that waited for a moment's privacy to fall.

“You may not be able to marry me because you love me,” Matthew said softly. “But please, at least, marry me because I love you.”

“You?” Glory lifted her eyes. “You do?”

“Of course. That's what I've been trying to tell you.”

“Well, it wasn't very clear.”

Matthew held her eyes steady with his. She'd never seen him look so serious. “Then let me make it clear. I love you, Glory Beckett. I love you so much it takes my breath away. It has, in fact, taken my breath away a time or two. I can't even begin to count the ways in which I love you. You own my heart.”