The Christmas Child (16 page)

Her heart clattered in her chest. “I feel the same about you.”

“Shh.” He shook his head to stop her from talking. “Not true. You don't even know me. Not really. I just want you to know, when I leave this town, I'll never forget you. If you ever need anything, call me. And no matter what I have to do, Davey will get that surgery.”

Shock waves prickled the hair on Sophie's scalp. Now she understood his odd behavior. He was leaving and hadn't known how to tell her. “But it's Christmas. You can't leave now.”

You can't leave ever. My heart will break. I love you. Please don't go.

But she didn't say any of that. Playing the drama queen would only embarrass them both. Kade had never said he was staying in Redemption, and apparently she wasn't enough to keep him here. Kade was going back to Chicago and to whatever had ripped him in two.

C
hristmas Eve dawned with bright white skies threatening a snow. Throughout the day meteorologists, with
The Nutcracker
music playing in the background, built up expectations of a white Christmas.

Darkness came early this time of year, and by nightfall a few flurries swirled.

“Spittin' snow,” Ida June said when Sophie and her dad picked up Davey for candlelight service. “It won't last.”

Sophie hoped she was wrong. A white Christmas sounded lovely to her, especially this year when she could use the extra punch of Christmas spirit.

“Is Davey ready?” she asked.

Smiling shyly, the towheaded boy appeared behind Ida June dressed in a dark suit and tie.

“Oh, my, who is this handsome young man?” Sophie leaned in for a hug.” A whisper of Kade's cologne on Davey's skin struck her with longing. “And he smells good, too.” She straightened, but Kade's scent followed, taunting her. “Thank you for getting him ready, Ida June, and for the suit. That was thoughtful.”

“Not me. Kade.” Kade again. Sophie fought off the ache. For all her noble talk about loving without expect
ing anything in return, she'd wanted things to turn out differently.

With her usual bluntness, Ida June tugged a stocking hat over Davey's ears and asked, “What's going on with you and my nephew?”

The truth came easy. “Nothing.”

Ida June snorted and rolled her eyes. “Don't spit on my back and tell me it's raining, girl. Give me a little credit for having a brain. Kade's started that roamin' again.”

Sophie tugged at her black gloves, instantly concerned. “Roaming? I don't know what you mean.”

“Can't sleep. Just like when he first got here. He was doing better for a while and now he's roaming around at night again like some kind of hoot owl. He drives that wild car of his, goes out to the river, walks the yard. He's gonna catch his death if he keeps it up.” She sniffed, snappy glare accusing. “I thought you'd fixed him.”

Sophie couldn't fix what she didn't understand. “He said he's returning to Chicago soon.”

“Told me that, too.” She looked back over one shoulder and raised her voice. “I think he's full of baloney, going back there when everything he wants is here. That place nearly killed him the first time around.”

If Kade was within hearing range, he'd know Ida June's opinion.

Although amused by the other woman's antics, Sophie had circled this mountain too many times. She didn't know what had happened in Chicago and apparently Kade never intended to share. “He's a grown man.”

Ida June grunted. “Didn't know there was such a thing.”

The silly statement brought a small smile to Sophie's lips, though she remained adamant. The ball was in Kade's court. She'd done all she could.

Except tell him the truth, a small voice whispered. That
she loved him. She'd miss him. She needed him. But Kade had enough stress. She wouldn't weigh him down with guilt over her.

“We have to run, Ida June,” she said, touching a hand to the older woman's arm. “The invitation to come with us is still open.”

“No, you go on. Mildred Phipps is coming by.” She yanked the front door open. A car chugged slowly past on the damp street. Disappointingly, the snow had stopped. “Tell me one thing, though. Do you care that my nephew's leaving?”

“Yes, I do,” Sophie answered softly. “Very much.”

“I thought so.” Ida June smacked a fist into her palm. “The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but a wise man listens to advice. I'm thinking my nephew needs some sound advice. Right upside his hard head.”

Sophie leaned in and hugged Kade's aunt. If advice would break through Kade's wall, he would be the one adopting Davey and he would never mention going back to Chicago. “We'll have Davey home early, but we might stop for ice cream.”

Ida June waved her off. “I'm not worried. At least not about Davey. Now go on before you let out all the heat.”

The past two days had been harder than Sophie had imagined. Kade was still in Redemption, but he'd distanced himself. She saw him, talked to him, and every time she did, she prayed that whatever drove him would be resolved. Even if he was never hers, she wanted him to be happy and at peace. Ida June's comments had confirmed he was neither of those.

 

Soft voices and a friendly reverence greeted them inside the foyer of Redemption Fellowship. Piano music floated
from the sanctuary on the tune of “Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem.”

The church was beautiful this time of year with huge wreaths hung along the sides of the sanctuary and lush green garland tied with red bows looped across the front. In one corner, a glorious ceiling-high tree glittered with angels and stars. Over the carved crèche Sophie had loved since childhood, a banner heralded Light of the World. This year, local wood craftsman Jace Carter had painstakingly restored the figures to their splendor as a gift to the church where he and wife, Kitty, had been married last summer.

Sophie waved at familiar faces as she herded Davey toward a pew with her father right behind. Along the way, an usher distributed thin white candles cupped with drip protectors.

“We'll light this later,” she said to Davey's curious, upturned face. The poor lamb had limited experience with church, but he was well-behaved and interested. His mother, despite her emotional fears, had taught him many good attributes. “Don't worry, Grandpa and I will help you. You won't get burned.”

Sophie's dad beamed at the new title she'd bestowed upon him. Davey, too, seemed thrilled to have a grandparent, something he'd never had.

“About time I got to be a grandpa,” her dad had said when she'd announced her decision to adopt Davey. She'd sought his wisdom and prayers, knowing Davey would need a male role model. As much as the child admired Kade, his hero wouldn't be here.

If she let herself, she'd worry about how Davey would take the news of Kade's departure. He'd had enough losses.

Dad had mentioned as much when she'd told him of Kade's decision to return to Chicago. He knew she, too,
was hurting and the protective father in him wanted to make things better for both her and Davey.

Sophie wished he could. But they'd long ago discussed the chance that Kade might not love her the way she loved him, and she clung to Dad's mantra: love was always worth the risk.

Now the new grandpa placed a loving hand on Davey's shoulder and guided him into the pew. Both her men looked so handsome, Sophie's heart swelled with pride and love.

“Is that a new suit, Dad?” she asked, shucking her coat.

“It is. Is that a new dress?”

Sophie laughed and smoothed the hem of the red asymmetrical sheath. The tiny beading on the edges winked beneath the lights. “Dad, I've worn this on Christmas Eve for the last three years.”

“You're so beautiful, you make it look new.”

Sophie never doubted that he meant every word. Dad didn't see an ordinary, simple schoolteacher who barely wore makeup. He saw a beauty queen. “Thanks, Daddy. I love you.”

“Ditto.” He squeezed her hand, his gaze searching her face. “You okay?”

“Sure.” A little sad perhaps, but Dad knew. She wished Kade was with them on this special night, not only because she loved him, but also because he needed the peace and healing found in God. “I have a lot to be thankful for.”

“We both do. A new start, a new family, a son for you and a grandson for me. Pretty nice Christmas gifts.” Her dad winked down at Davey. “Christmas is about a child, you know. Davey brings fresh meaning to that.”

Yes, Christmas was about a child with no place to lay his head and no home to call his own.

Sophie slipped an arm around Davey's shoulders and
squeezed gently. The same had been true for Davey, but not anymore. The Lord had sent him to exactly the right place to find a new family to cherish him.

“I love you, Davey,” she whispered. He grinned his crooked grin and nodded. He knew she loved him and he enjoyed hearing it. What would it be like to hear him say those words to her?

Oh, how she prayed for Davey's Christmas miracle.

The piano rendition of “Oh, Holy Night” grew more subtle and Pastor Parker stepped into the pulpit to begin service. With quiet demeanor the blond pastor spoke briefly of the long-ago night when God's love came down to earth and became the light that still shines in a dark world.

When time came to light the candles, the sanctuary went dark except for the star shining over the crèche. A lovely, peaceful reverence filled Sophie's spirit as she lit her candle from her father's and they both shared the flame with a little mute boy. This was the way it would be, her father's eyes told her. As a family, they would raise Davey in the light of God's grace.

With flames flickering and “Silent Night” swelling with glorious beauty, Sophie prayed for the future. She prayed for Davey's miracle. She prayed for Kade, and as she did, she released him and her love for him to God the way her father had released her mother.

“Heal his heart, Lord,” she whispered into the candlelit shadows. “Heal his spirit and his soul, and wherever he is, let him feel your love on this most holy night.”

A wellspring of peace flooded her being.

God would go with Kade. And so would her love.

 

When the service ended the trio started out of the church, moving slowly through the hushed crowd. No one
spoke much, and she could see the service had blessed others as it had blessed her.

Her father gently caught her elbow. With a jerk of his head, he motioned toward the far corner of the church.

Sophie's heart leaped. She fought down the joyful cry that shot into her throat.

Kade sat alone on the very last pew. Elbows on his knees, eyes closed and forehead propped on clasped hands, he didn't look up even though people moved past him toward the exits.

Sophie turned a questioning look toward her father. He shrugged and shook his head. He didn't know how long Kade had been there, either.

“I'll take Davey home,” he said quietly. “I think you're needed here.”

Yes, she was sure of it. Kade had come at her invitation and he needed her. Even if they didn't say a word, he needed to know she was here…and that she cared.

She spoke to Davey, gave him a hug and promised to see him tomorrow on Christmas Day. Her soon-to-be son left eagerly when her dad offered a stop at the ice-cream parlor for mint chocolate chip, his favorite.

Pulse hammering in her throat, Sophie made her way toward the man who held her heart. He looked lonely and forlorn sitting there, but she was ecstatic to see him.

Without a word, she slid into the pew next to him. He didn't acknowledge her presence, so she waited, praying silently for wisdom and guidance but mostly for him to find whatever it was he needed.

After a while, without looking her way, he slid his hand to hers and squeezed. His fingers trembled, and Sophie ached for him.

“I never thought I'd ever come inside a church again,” he said quietly, as if to himself.

“Why?” she murmured, pulse thudding in her ears.
Help me, Lord, to say the right things.

Kade drew in a deep breath and exhaled on a gusty sigh. “Some bad things happened. I lost confidence in God. Maybe I was even angry at Him, which is pretty stupid on my part.”

“He's a big God. He can handle it.”

He turned his head toward her then, those beloved dark eyes full of sorrow. “
I
couldn't.”

“What happened?” There. She'd asked. He could tell or not, but at least she'd made the effort.

“I worked undercover narcotics. Special task forces.”

“You told me.”

“Yeah.” He pulled her hand onto his knee and massaged her fingers as if the contact eased him. “I'm not sure I can tell you the rest.”

“Nothing you say will change the way I feel about you.”

He gazed at her with a question in his eyes but didn't ask. She hoped he could read the love she beamed his way.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Positive. Please tell me what hurt you so badly, Kade. Tell me why you turned away from the Lord.”

He tilted his head to stare up at the ceiling and sighed again. “My aunt said you'd feel that way. She also said I needed to find God again, but I wouldn't find him roamin' around like a hoot owl.”

Sophie chuckled softly. She couldn't help herself. The feisty old lady had followed through with her threat to knock some sense into her nephew's head. “I love that spunky woman.”

For the first time, Kade's face lightened. “Me, too.” He recaptured her fingers and said, “I've been sitting here since the second hymn following her advice, asking God to help me.”

“And?”

“I thought He'd let me down. Bad things happened to kids and He didn't stop them. I think I get it now. He hated what happened as much as I did.”

Kids being harmed? The concept prickled the hair on Sophie's scalp. “I thought you were a
drug
agent.”

“I was, but the job went deeper than anyone expected. The drug cartel had branched out.” He closed his eyes, swallowed and said, “Into human trafficking.”

Sophie's heart stopped beating for a nanosecond. Horror gripped her. “Oh, no. Not children.”

“Yes.” The grip on her fingers tightened to the unbearable stage. “I reported it to my superiors. They told me to take it deeper, find the source.” His lips curled. “Being a good team player I did as I was told, and all the while kids were being used in unspeakable ways.” He shook his head. “I don't want to tell you.”

“Don't, please. I understand enough.” Enough to know what had driven him to the edge. A man of compassion who harbored a guardian's soul, Kade would break at not protecting a child.