The Christmas Child (4 page)

She was almost certain he flinched, but if he did, he covered the emotion quickly.

“In a manner of speaking.”

Sophie waited for an explanation, but when none was forthcoming, she asked, “Do you have any ideas? Any thoughts about where he came from or what happened?”

“A few.” He crossed his arms again. She recognized the subconscious barrier he raised between them. What had happened to this man to make him so aloof? For a people person, he was a challenge. For a Christian, he was someone to pray for. For a single woman, he was dangerously attractive. What woman wouldn't want to delve behind
those dark, mysterious eyes and into that cool heart to fix whatever ailed him?

“Care to share?” she asked.

He cocked his head, listening. “Davey's awake.”

Sophie hadn't heard a sound, but she pushed away from the table and hurried past Kade to the sofa and the little boy who'd had her prayers all day. Behind her, a more troubling and troubled presence followed. She was in the company of two mysterious males and they both intrigued her.

“Hi, Davey.” She sat on the edge of the couch, the warmth of Davey's sleep-drenched body pleasant against her leg. Kade's big dog, a golden retriever, slid off the sofa and padded to her master. He dropped a hand to her wide skull and stood like a dark slab of granite watching as Davey looked around in that puzzled “Where am I?” manner of someone waking in a strange place.

“Remember me? I'm Sophie. My students call me Miss B.”

The towheaded child blinked stubby lashes and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He sat up, the blanket falling to his waist.

Sophie grinned up at Kade. “Your shirt?”

A wry twist to one side of his mouth, Kade nodded. “My sweats, too. His clothes are in the dryer.”

Davey pushed the cover away and stood. The oversize black pants puddled around his feet. Sophie laughed. “I need a camera.”

Davey looked down, and then, too serious, glanced from Sophie to Kade and back again, eyes wide and uncertain.

“Guess what? We have some great new clothes for you. You want to look through the bag and find something you like?” She dragged the bag from the chair with a plastic thud against green shag carpet and pulled open the yellow
tie. “There's a very cool sweatshirt in here. And wait till you see this awesome jacket with a hood and secret zip-up pockets.”

She was rewarded when Davey realized her mission and went to his knees next to the bag. Sophie held up a T-shirt. “What do you think?”

He nodded eagerly, then plunged his hands into the sack and removed a pair of cowboy boots. His whole body reacted. He hopped up, stumbled on his long pants and would have gone down if Kade, swift as a cat, hadn't caught him. “Easy, pard.”

“I think he likes his new duds.”

Davey held the boots up for Kade's inspection. Sophie watched with interest as the man pretended to consider before nodding his head. “Shoulda been a cowboy myself.”

Davey's face broke into a wide smile. He plopped onto the floor and shoved at the too-long pants to find his feet. Sophie's smile widened. “Here, Davey. I think you could use some help.”

Kade moved into action. “Why don't we find some jeans first and then try the boots?”

But Davey was already shoving his small feet into the brown-and-white-stitched footwear. His foot went in with an easy
whoosh
of skin against leather. Thrilled, smile wide enough to crack his cheeks, he leaned in to hug her from the side. Sophie's heart pinched. The boots were obviously too big, but Davey behaved as though she'd given him the best Christmas present of his life.

He levered himself up with her shoulder and attempted to clomp around, still grinning. The sweats puddled on the floor and tripped him up again. Kade reached out to steady him, expression inscrutable. “Grab him some jeans. I'll help him change.”

Sophie did as he asked, touched when Kade hoisted
Davey under one arm and carted him, boots, jeans and all, sweats flopping in the empty space beneath Davey's feet, to another room. Sheba padded softly behind, her nose inches from Kade.

Minutes later Sophie heard a
clomp, clomp
as the trio returned, Davey dressed in clean jeans, a Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt and the too-big boots. Kade had dampened the child's pale hair and brushed away the bedhead.

“Well, don't you look handsome?”

Davey beamed and clomped to her. Sheba followed, her nose poked beneath his hand as though expecting him to fall at any moment and prepared to catch him.

“I think the clothes are a hit,” Kade said.

“The boots are for certain.” Sophie dipped in the bag. “Davey, we might as well go through these and see what else you like. You can keep anything that fits.”

As they rummaged through the hand-me-downs, Sophie was a little too aware of Kade kneeling beside her, his taut arm brushing hers as they pulled clothes from the sack. There was a stealthy danger about him, a rigid control she assumed came from his work in law enforcement. Special units, he'd said. Now she wondered what he'd meant.

She was holding a blue dress shirt under Davey's chin, his little arms spread wide to test the sleeve length, when they heard a car in the drive.

“Ida June?” she asked.

A minute later, the doorbell chimed. “Apparently not.”

Kade shoved to his feet and went to answer. Sophie heard voices but thought nothing of them until Kade returned, trailed by a man in a business suit. Sophie's pleasure seeped away.

“Hello, Howard.” She knew the social worker from school and the times he'd come to interview teachers about a child's well-being. Good at his job, professional
and thorough, she'd always been glad to have him in a child's corner. Until today.

“Sophie, how are you?”

“Great.” She'd been better. “Is everything okay? Davey's doing fine here, as you can see. We're sorting through some clothes my students donated.”

“Nice of you to take an interest. Tell your students thanks. We appreciate all you've done. Both of you.”

“No problem. Davey's a good boy.”

“The Cunninghams will be glad to hear that.”

Dread pulled at Sophie's belly. “The Cunninghams?”

“The foster family. We got lucky. They can take him today.”

Sophie made a small sound of distress. “He's doing fine here, Howard. Why not leave him with Kade and Ida June?”

“Neither has foster-parenting credentials or clearances. The Cunninghams are paper-ready.”

“You've known Ida June forever and Kade is in law enforcement.”

“The system doesn't work that way. Sorry. The Cunninghams are a good family with experience with special-needs children. He'll do well with them.” Howard hitched the crease of his navy slacks and went to one knee in front of Davey. “My name is Mr. Prichard, Davey. You'll be coming with me today. There's a family waiting to meet you. You're going to like it at their house.”

Davey frowned, bewildered gaze moving from Howard to Sophie and Kade.

“Howard,” Sophie said, beseeching.

“I have a job to do, Sophie. Our department comes under enough fire as it is. We have to follow procedures.” The social worker rose, matter-of-fact. “If you'd gather his belongings, he can take them along.”

“This is all he has.” The plastic bag crinkled as she pushed at it. A few hand-me-down clothes and an oversize pair of boots.

“More than most have, sad to say. Come along, Davey.” The man grasped Davey's hand and started for the door. Davey jerked away and ran to Kade, throwing his arms around the familiar man's legs. Sheba whined and pushed against Davey's back. He fell against her neck and clung.

“Let him stay.” Kade's voice was hard as granite.

Howard ignored the request. “Come now, Davey.” When the boy didn't obey, the social worker scooped Davey into his arms and headed to the car. Davey squirmed but didn't make a sound. The silence was more terrible than any amount of crying.

Sophie followed, fighting tears, her throat clogged with emotion. She pushed Davey's beloved book into his hands. “It's okay, Davey. I know the Cunningham family. They're nice people. I'll call you. I'll come over and see you. We'll find your family. I promise. I promise. Don't be afraid.”

Tense fingers caught her arm. Kade, face as hard as ice, said, “Don't make promises.”

Sophie stopped in the driveway next to the black Taurus and forced an encouraging smile as the social worker buckled the little lost boy into the backseat. Beside her, Kade said nothing, but anger seethed from him, hot against the evening chill. She lifted her hand, waved and held on to the fake smile while the car backed into the street and pulled away.

A cold wind swirled around her, lifted her hair, scattered scratchy brown leaves across the pavement. The dark sedan turned the corner, out of sight now.

Sophie lowered her hand and stood dejected in the bleak afternoon. What a sad way to spend Christmas.

Be with him, Jesus.

Even though her prayer was heartfelt, Sophie knew little comfort. The sight of Davey's tormented face pressed against the window glass with silent tears streaming would stay with her forever.

K
ade wanted to punch something. Fists tight against his sides, he glared at the departing car, shocked by his reaction. He wasn't supposed to get personally involved. But he
was
supposed to protect and serve. With Davey gone to strangers, how could he do that?

Sophie touched him. A gentle hand to his outer elbow. A comforting squeeze and release. His muscles tensed. He turned from staring down Hope Avenue, a useless occupation considering the car was long gone, to meet the teacher's gaze. He didn't say what he was thinking. A woman like her wouldn't want to know, and as the dismayed shrink had discovered, Kade was not one to vomit his emotions all over someone else anyway.

“I don't know what to do,” she said.

“Nothing we can do.”

“This doesn't feel right. I don't know why exactly. We barely know Davey, but I'm worried about him. He seemed comfortable with us.”

“Yeah.” Kade pivoted toward the house. “Might as well get out of the wind. Want to come in?”

“No, I should go. I—” She pushed aside a blowing curve of hair, only to let it blow right back across her face.

“Come in. Finish your coffee.” He wasn't ready for her to leave. They shared a common concern and a common ache. Sophie was a nice woman, the kind a man didn't blow off and leave standing in his driveway.

She didn't argue but fell in step beside him. Her height was average, as was his, but his stride was longer. She picked up her pace. “I hadn't read the book. I promised to read his book.”

He'd told her not to make promises. Promises got broken. He pushed open Ida June's front door, a bright red enameled rectangle festooned with a smelly cedar wreath the size of an inner tube. “He'll be okay.”

“The Cunninghams are good people. They live on a farm.”

Sheba met them at the door, body language asking about Davey.

Sophie stroked the golden ears. “She didn't want him to leave, either.”

“No.”

“I'll call Cybil Cunningham tonight and check on him. She won't mind.”

“Good.” He went to the kitchen, stuck their coffee mugs in the microwave to heat. “This doesn't end here.”

The words came out unexpectedly but he meant them. The microwave beeped and he popped the door open to hand Sophie her heated coffee.

She took the mug with both hands and sipped, gray gaze watching him above the rim. “You're going to search for his family?”

“I'm searching for answers. It's what I do. And I'll find them.” The stir in his blood was far more potent than the acid in his belly. Finding answers for Davey gave him focus, a mission, something to do besides relive failure.

“The police will do that, won't they?” She set the mug on the metal table and drew out a chair.

Kade shrugged. A lot she knew about law enforcement. “They'll try. For a while. But if the trail grows cold, Davey will go on the back burner.”

“And be stuck in the social system.”

“Right.” Restless, he didn't join her at the table, but he liked seeing her there, calm to his anxious. How did she do that? How did she shift into serene gear after what had just happened? He knew she'd been emotional when Davey left. He'd watched her struggle, saw her pull a smile out of her aching heart for Davey's sake. Now she drew on some inner reserve as though she trusted everything would work out for the best. “I talked to Jesse Rainmaker an hour ago. Nothing. Nothing on the databases, either.”

“I don't understand that. If your child was missing, wouldn't you call the police?”

She was as naive as a baby, a cookie-baking optimist. The thought tickled the corners of his eyes. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Her cup clinked against the metal top. “I don't know much about this kind of thing, Kade, but I want to do something to help Davey find his family. Please tell me what you're thinking.”

He was positive she didn't want to hear it all. “I can think of a couple of scenarios. One, his family doesn't know he's missing.”

“That's unlikely, isn't it?”

“Sometimes parents are out of the house, at work, partying. They come home a day or two later and find their kid gone. By tomorrow, someone should raise a shout if they're going to.”

“What else?”

“His parents don't want him.” He saw by her reaction
how hard that was for her to comprehend. “It happens, Sophie.”

“I know. Still…” Some of the Christmas cheer leached from her eyes.

“Davey is mute. A family might not be able to deal with that. Or worse, his parents may not be in the picture. Or he could have been missing for so long they aren't actively looking anymore.”

A frown wrinkled the smooth place between her fascinating eyebrows. A face like hers shouldn't have to frown.

“Are you saying he might be a kidnap victim?”

“He's a little young to be a runaway. I searched the data base of the Center for Missing and Exploited Children and came up with nothing, but that doesn't mean he's not a victim. It only means no one has reported him missing.”

“Are you saying a parent would ignore the fact that their child is gone?”

“It happens. Kids are a commodity. You can buy them on the internet.”

Sophie lifted a weak hand in surrender. “Don't.”

Ignoring the problem didn't make it go away, but he bit back the obvious comment. Sophie was small-town sweet and innocent. She hadn't seen the dark side. She hadn't lived in the back alleys of the underworld.

Kade poured another cup of coffee, then shoved the mug aside to take milk from the fridge. Something cool and bland might soothe the lava burning his guts. “Kade?”

He swallowed half a glass of milk before answering. “Yeah?”

“You want to order some fifth-grade cookies to go with that milk?”

In spite of himself, he laughed. She was a piece of work, this cookie lady. “You're going to hound me.”

“Gently. Merrily. It's a Christmas project. So,” she said, with quiet glee, “how many dozen?”

“What am I going to do with a bunch of cookies?”

“Eat them, give them as gifts, have a Christmas party. The possibilities are limitless.”

“I don't do the Christmas thing.”

She didn't go there and he was grateful. He wasn't up to explaining all the reasons he couldn't muster any Christmas spirit. Or any kind of spirit for that matter. His faith hadn't survived the dark corners of south Chicago.

“Everyone eats cookies.” Her smile tilted the corners of a very nice, unenhanced mouth. He wondered if she had a guy.

“A dozen. Now leave me alone.”

His gruff reply seemed to delight, rather than insult. “You old Scrooge. I'll get you for more.”

Wouldn't that be a stupid sight? Him with a bunch of Santas and stars and Christmas trees to eat all by himself. Or better yet, he'd stand on the street corner back home and hand them out. See how long before he got arrested.

“We were talking about the boy,” he said.

She shrugged, a minimal motion of shoulders and face. “Your stomach is bothering you. You needed a distraction.”

Kade narrowed his eyes at her. “The cookie lady is a mind reader?”

“People watcher.”

She
had
distracted him, although the cookie conversation was not as powerful as the woman herself. A less careful man could get lost in all that sugary sweetness.

He tilted his head toward the garage and the clatter of Ida June's old truck engine chugging to a halt. Before he could say “She's here,” his inimitable aunt sailed through the back entrance and slammed the door with enough force to make Sheba give one startled yip.

“I heard what happened.” Disapproval radiating from every pore, Ida June slapped a sunflower knitting bag the size of his gym bag onto the butcher-top counter. “I'll give Howard Prichard a piece of my mind and he'll know the reason why. Silliest thing I ever heard of. Jerk a terrified child from a perfectly fine place and take him to live with a bunch of strangers.”

“We're strangers, too,” Kade said mildly. Seeing her riled up cooled him down even though he appreciated her fire.

“Don't sass, nephew. What are you going to do about this?” With a harrumph, she folded her arms across the front of her overalls. Sheba, the peacemaker, nudged her knee.

Kade imitated her crossed arms and slouched against the refrigerator. “Find his family.”

“I expected as much. Good to hear it.” Ida June gave the dog an absent pat. Then as if she'd just realized someone else occupied the kitchen, she said, “Hello, Sophie. You selling cookies?”

Sophie set her cup to one side. “It's that time of year.”

“Put me down for five dozen. Did you get this nephew of mine to buy any?”

The pretty mouth quivered. “A dozen.”

Kade was tempted to roll his eyes because he knew what was to come from his incorrigible aunt.

“He'll have to do better than that. Stay after him.”

“I plan to.”

“I'm still in the room,” he said mildly. The refrigerator kicked on, the motor vibrating against his tense back. “The least you can do is wait until I'm gone to gang up on me.”

Aunt Ida June gave him a mock-sour look. “Crybaby. Is Sophie staying for supper? I made that lasagna last night
and you didn't eat enough of it to feed a gnat. I refuse to feed it to Sheba.” When the dog cocked her head, Ida June amended. “Maybe a bite. Well, is Sophie staying or not?”

Kade arched an inquiring eyebrow in Sophie's direction. He didn't mind if she stayed for dinner. Might be interesting to know her better.

He waited for her answer. An insistent, perplexing hope nudged up inside him.

Sophie rose from the table and pushed in the chair, as polite and tidy as he would have expected. Kade liked what he saw, and not just the fact that she was pretty as sunshine and looked good in a sweater. He liked the feminine way her fingertips glided along the top of the chair rung before straightening the hem of her blouse. And the way she met Ida June's gaze with straight-on, clear and honest eye contact.

A student of human nature, Kade could spot pretense in a second. There was nothing false about Sophie Bartholomew.

He hoped she'd stay for dinner.

“Thank you, Miss Ida June,” she said. “But I have to say no. I promised to drop by my dad's this evening and help put up his Christmas decorations.”

Kade's ulcer mocked him. All right, so she had a life. Other than Davey, she had no reason to stick around here.

“You're a good daughter,” Ida June said, smacking her lips together with satisfaction. “You'll make a fine wife.”

“I have a great dad.” If Sophie thought a thing about Ida June's blatant “wife” remark, she didn't let on. Apparently, the citizens of Redemption were accustomed to his aunt's habit of saying exactly what she thought.

Sophie took her coffee cup to the sink and turned on the warm water. Above the
whoosh,
she asked, “How's the stable coming along?”

“Leave that cup in the sink. Kade's gotta be useful for something around here.” Ida June shouldered Kade to the side and yanked a casserole from the refrigerator. She banged the sturdy glass dish on the counter and dug in the cabinets for foil and a spatula. The woman slammed and banged in the kitchen the same way she did on a job. With purpose and sass.

“You'll take your dad some lasagna.” From Sophie's quiet acceptance, Kade figured she knew not to argue with Ida June. “Stable's nearly done. Would have been if Kade had been there. Makes me so aggravated not to be able to carry a four-by-eight sheet of plywood by myself.” She flexed an arm muscle and gave it a whap. “Puny thing.”

“Nobody would accuse you of being puny, Ida June.” Kade moved to Sophie's side and reached for the coffee mug.

She scooted but didn't turn loose of the cup. She did, however, flash him that sunny smile, only this one carried a hint of his aunt's sass. “I can do it.”

“Yeah?” he arched a brow.

She arched one, too. “Yeah.”

Was the cookie lady flirting with him?

They jockeyed for position for a few seconds while Kade examined the interesting simmer of energy buzzing around the pair of them like honeybees in a glass jar, both dangerous and sweet. Danger he understood, but sweet Sophie didn't know what she was bumping up against.

Ten minutes later, he walked her out the front door, leaving Ida June to heat a spicy casserole that would torture him again tonight.

He opened the car door for Sophie, stood with one hand on the handle as she slid gracefully onto the seat. At some point in the day she'd changed her clothes from a long blue sweater to a dark skirt and white blouse. She looked
the part of a teacher. Weird that he'd notice. “Don't worry about the kid.”

Keys rattled as she dug in the pocket of a black jacket. “I won't. But I
will
pray for him.”

His teeth tightened. “You pray. I'll find answers.”

A cloud passing overhead shadowed her usual cheer. “We can do both.”

“Right.” God listened to people like Sophie. Kade still believed that much.

She started the engine and yet he remained in the open car door, wanting to say something reassuring and not knowing how. Life, he knew, did not always turn out the way it should.

“Kade?” she said.

“Yeah?”

She reached out and placed her hand on his sleeve. Her warmth, or maybe the thought of it, seeped through the thick cotton.

“Everything will be all right.” Her gray eyes smiled, serious but teasing, too. “I promise.”

The tables had turned. She was the one doing the reassuring. For two beats he even believed her.

Then he said, “Don't make promises,” and shut the door.

 

“Dad, have you ever met Kade McKendrick?”