The Christmas Child (6 page)

Throwaways?
Never reported? Did such horrors really happen? “I can't believe Davey is either. He's young and cute and this is Oklahoma!”

She saw the eye roll he held in check and practically heard his thoughts. She was naive, a Pollyanna, sheltered.

“He's also handicapped. Granted, Davey's a little younger than usual, but facts are facts. Sometimes no one cares if a kid disappears.”

Sophie didn't want to believe him. Children were a treasure from the Lord, not discardable afterthoughts. But Kade's adamant anger gave her a peek inside his head. He spoke from experience and that experience had left him bleeding.

Lord, You've put this man and this child in my life for a purpose. What now?

A quiet rustle of movement stopped the conversation as Davey rounded the corner into the kitchen. With sleepy eyes and a bedhead of pale, unruly hair, he was the cutest thing. Heart melting like a hot marshmallow, Sophie hoped he hadn't heard the unsettling conversation. She cut a glance toward Kade and marveled at the instant change in him. He'd gone from Doberman-like fierceness to the gentleness of the golden dog trailing the child into the kitchen.

“Hey, buddy.” He went down on one knee in front of the little boy. “Feel better?”

Davey nodded, then walked into Kade's chest and snuggled his chin into his hero's shirt. Kade's eyelids fell closed. One blunt-nailed hand cradled the mussed head as he drew Davey close. Sheba, the shadow, crowded against both males and nudged Davey with her nose.

“Chief Rainmaker should be here any minute.” She set her cup aside. “What will we tell him?”

Kade gazed at her over Davey's shoulder. “That's up to Davey.” Holding the child by the shoulders, he eased back to make eye contact. “Why did you run away last night?”

The child shrugged, expressive face worried. She recognized that look. The one she'd seen on a number of faces over the years. A boy who knew he'd done wrong and now had to face the consequences.

“Were the Cunninghams nice to you?”

Davey nodded, then pointed, one by one to Kade, Sophie and Sheba. And finally back to himself.

“Oh, my goodness.” This little blue-eyed boy was quickly worming his way into her heart. She went to the floor beside him. “I think I understand.” She touched his hair, smoothing a lock that sprang right back up. “You want to stay with one of us. With Kade or me. Is that right?”

A huge smile displayed several half-grown permanent teeth. He nodded vigorously before throwing both arms around Sophie in a bear hug. She rubbed her hands up and down his back in a gesture she frequently used with upset students. Touch, she was convinced, relayed emotion words could never speak. Davey's small fingers kneaded in the hair at her shoulders like a motherless kitten.

“Listen, buddy.” Kade gently took Davey by the arm and turned him around. The small, sleep-scented boy stood between the adults in a cradle of care and protection. “Sophie and I will try. We can't make any promises, but we'll try. We want you to stay with one of us until we can find your family.”

Davey's eyes widened in worry. He shook his head side to side.

“I'm getting confused here,” Sophie said. “Either he wants to stay with us or he doesn't.”

Kade shot her a look. “Or he doesn't want us to find his family.”

Davey whapped an attention-getting hand on Kade's shoulder and nodded. Sophie's heart sunk lower than an open grave.

“That's it, isn't it, Davey?” Kade asked. “You don't want us to find your family.”

The saddest expression came over the small, round face and tears welled in cornflower-blue eyes. He lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug that both confirmed and confused.

“But that doesn't make sense. Why would he not want you to find—” At Kade's expression, Sophie stopped in midsentence.

He had that look again, the one she'd noticed yesterday in the trash bin. Anger and despair.

His bizarre reaction set her imagination into high gear.

Did Kade's moodiness have something to do with kids like Davey?

S
hortly after nine, the social worker arrived along with Chief Rainmaker. By then Kade was ready for a fight. Itching for one. Something was way wrong in Davey's world, and hard as he tried not to go there, Kade imagined the worst.

After sharing kitchen duty with Sophie to prepare a decent breakfast for Davey—an event he'd found pleasantly distracting—they'd settled at Ida June's Chippendale coffee table with a deck of cards Sophie had supplied.

“I'm a teacher,” she said when he'd raised a curious eyebrow at some of the things she'd taken from the oversize tote. “What can I say? Always be prepared.”

“Better than a Boy Scout,” he'd replied. She'd rewarded his joke with a smile.

Now he was teaching Davey the fine art of War, a man's game if ever there was one. Davey, the little wart, had quickly discovered the joys of taking his adult opponents' lower-numbered cards and was amassing quite a pile. The silent, breathy giggle was heartbreakingly cute. Cute enough to make Kade mad all over again. Somebody was gonna pay for this boy's pain. The sooner he could get back into the investigation the better for everyone.

When the doorbell chimed, Kade left his two guests to battle for the remaining dozen cards.

“He's staying,” he said to the social worker the minute they shook hands. If the abrupt statement shocked Howard Prichard, he didn't let on.

“Chief Rainmaker filled me in on the details.” Prichard ran a speculative gaze over Kade's face. “I'm still curious as to how a little boy who'd been here only once could find his way back.”

Kade bristled. Was Prichard making an accusation? “So am I, but he did. Ask him yourself.”

He whirled and led them into the living room just as Davey slapped a nine on Sophie's two. Sophie pretended insult, laughing, and Davey's face glowed with pleasure. When he saw Howard Prichard, the pleasure evaporated. He bolted up from his spot on the floor beside the coffee table and looked wildly around. Sophie took his hand and tugged. The boy collapsed against her, clinging.

Kade ground his back teeth in frustration. “Thanks to your red tape he was up half the night, in the cold, and vulnerable to
any
kind of predator.” He hoped Prichard had sense enough to understand that predators didn't have to be wild animals. “He stays with me and he stays safe.”

Sophie, with more diplomacy than Kade could muster, levered up from the floor and brought Davey with her still clinging. “Why don't you gentlemen sit down so we can discuss Davey's situation? Would you care for some coffee?”

“Nothing for me, Sophie. Thanks.” Jesse Rainmaker stood behind Ida June's stuffed chair, his thick brown fingers resting on the green upholstery. He was solid and calm and coolheaded in the way Kade once had been. Stay aloof. Don't let it touch you personally. It's all about the job.

“I'm fine, too. Thank you,” Prichard said, waving away her offer as he settled on the sofa.

Good, Kade thought. Much as he respected Rainmaker, he was in no mood to be hospitable. Forget the coffee and niceties. He wasn't letting another kid slip through the cracks.

With a soothing hand on Davey's back and while holding him close to her hip in a protective, motherly manner, Sophie said, “Howard, I'm sure we can work out a reasonable solution to this problem. You've known me for years. My school does background checks on everyone and I've taught in this town long enough for you to know I care about children. Kade McKendrick is a police officer with federal-level clearances living here with Ida June Click, whom you've also known forever. They are certainly capable of caring for Davey until his family is found.”

Kade shot her a sour look. He would find Davey's family. Nothing could stop him. But he wasn't expecting them to want Davey back. Miss Optimistic couldn't get it into her happy head that the world wasn't all cookie-nice and Christmas-peaceful.

“I'll take him,” he said to Sophie. “You have your job and your Christmas projects.”

“As long as he's with one of us.” She rubbed the back of Davey's hair as he gazed up at her, listening to every word. The kid was sharp. Had to be to find his way here in the dark. It would sure help if he could talk.

“What do you say, Howard?” Sophie insisted with gentle steel. “Can we work this out?”

The social worker shuffled through a briefcase. Kade's fist tightened at his sides. A boy shouldn't be at the mercy of a piece of paper.

“Chief Rainmaker and I have discussed the situation at length. I also spoke with the foster family. First, though, I'm duty-bound to interview the child.”

“The
child
has a name,” Kade said with more vehemence than he'd intended.

Prichard gave him a reproving glance. “The chief and I will need to talk to Davey alone.”

“No.”

“Mr. McKendrick, I'm not the enemy. We all have Davey's best interest in mind. A man in law enforcement should understand the need for cooperation in these matters.”

Sophie's soft fingertips grazed his arm. “Kade, let's go in the kitchen and have another cup of coffee.” To Davey, she said, “Davey, these men are only going to talk to you. They are not going to take you anywhere. Okay?”

The kid looked doubtful. Kade bent to whisper in his ear. “I'll tackle them if they try. Deal?”

Davey hunched his narrow shoulders in a shy grin and nodded. After a few more words of assurance from both he and Sophie, Kade scooped Davey up in a football hold and planted him in a chair in front of the social worker. Rainmaker came around front and went to a knee beside the chair. Kade felt better knowing Rainmaker was in the room. Rainmaker and Sheba. With a wink, he chucked Davey under the chin before following Sophie into the kitchen.

 

Sophie held up the carafe. “Do you really want more of this? It smells like burned rubber.”

She'd hoped her statement, though basically true, would lighten him up.

“I'll pass.” Kade went to the fridge for a glass of milk, his glare focused on the living room.

“They aren't here to hurt him, Kade.” She mustered up her best soothe-the-beast voice, the one she used when fifth graders fought to a point of hysteria. Most times
Sophie didn't let anything make her anxious for long, but Davey could be an exception. He was so vulnerable, no doubt the reason Kade was wound up tighter than a double Slinky on steroids.

“Sorry to get intense on you.” He downed the milk and then plunked the glass in the sink with a frustrated sigh. “I'm a little edgy this morning.”

Only this morning? Sophie stifled a snort. When was Kade
not
edgy? “Davey's blessed to have you in his corner.”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, shot a glance toward the quiet mutter of voices in the living room. “You, too.” He grinned then, a tiny thing, but a grin just the same. “We're quite the pair of crusaders, aren't we?”

They were. He, intense and cynical. She, the eternal optimist. “We're a good balance. And we both care about that little boy in there.”

“Someone needs to.”

“Agreed. I have a plan. Want to hear it?”

“There's a choice?”

She made a face at him, even though she was pleased at the humor attempt. Maybe she'd lighten him up after all. “I think Howard will go for it.”

Howard Prichard appeared in the doorway. “Go for what?”

Davey scooted under the social worker's arm and rushed to Kade. Sheba scooted in behind him, toenails slipping a little on the linoleum in her hurry to keep up.

“Davey needs to be in school, but because it's only three weeks until Christmas break and we aren't sure how long it will take to find his family, I have a somewhat creative suggestion. That is, if you're agreeable to Kade and Ida June being his temporary foster family. Along with Sheba, of course.”

“It's all about the dog,” Kade muttered.

Sophie shot him an amused glance.

Prichard smiled, too. “Yes, he is fond of the dog. For a child who can't speak, he can make his wishes very clear. I think we can all agree that the best thing for Davey at this point is to be in an environment where he feels comfortable and safe. From all appearances, that's with one of you. So, if the plan is acceptable to all parties, Davey will remain here temporarily. We'll file this as an emergency placement and take care of the details as we go.”

Relief came swiftly, a surprise because Sophie hadn't realized how anxious she'd been. God always worked things out, didn't He? “Other than finding Davey safe in Kade's garage, that's the best news of the day. Thank you, Howard.”

“What was this plan of yours?”

“School.”

“Yes, school is an issue. With his special needs, testing and paperwork will be required. We'll have to start from the beginning and do a complete battery, including IQ, placement, hearing, vision.” He sighed and straightened a conservative blue tie. “Everything.”

“Let me talk to my principal. I think we can work this out. With only three weeks remaining until Christmas break, I'm going to suggest that Davey be allowed in my classroom to help with the annual cookie project. At various times throughout the day, the special-needs department can pull him out for preliminary placement tests and make suggestions for after the holidays. I can pick him up each morning and bring him back each evening.”

Kade shifted toward her, eyeing her curiously. “You don't have to do that.”

“I want to. If it's okay with him. What do you say,
Davey? Would you like to go to school with me and have fun with some other kids?”

A frown appeared between Davey's blue eyes. He looked to Kade.

Kade lifted his palms in a helpless gesture. “School's a given, buddy. Everyone goes.”

Davey shook his head back and forth and shrugged. The adults exchanged looks. Kade bent to the child. “Haven't you been going to school?”

Davey shook his head no.

“Never?”

Another no, accompanied by a very worried expression in eyes as blue as a cornflower crayon.

Kade's jaw flexed. He blew out a gust of air. “Well, that puts a new spin on things.” He placed a hand on Davey's shoulder. “No sweat. Sophie will take care of you. Right, Miss B.?”

Sophie smoothed the top of Davey's hair and let her hand rest there. The once-matted moptop was silky smooth and clean, thanks to Kade and Ida June. “Absolutely. You can go to school with me and I'll take care of everything from there. Okay? I don't want you to worry one bit. It's Christmas time! The best time of year. Worrying is against the rules at Christmas.” With more cheer than she felt, she playfully tapped his nose. Davey rewarded her with a rubbery, close-lipped grin. “We'll have so much fun, making and decorating cookies and getting ready for the Bethlehem Walk and the Victorian Christmas events. You're going to love those. You might even want to be in the parade.”

Davey's eyes widened at the mention of a parade. He nodded eagerly.

“Well, it's all settled, then,” the social worker said. “The pair of you seem to have the situation in hand, so
I'll leave you to work out the details. Call me if any problems arise.” He handed Kade a business card. “I'll be in touch Monday.”

As soon as the other two men left and Davey was busy wrestling Sheba for a chew toy, Sophie said, “I should go.”

“Why?”

The blunt question surprised her. “I don't know.”

“Then stay.” He shoved off the doorjamb he'd been holding up. “Davey.”

Oh, right, for Davey. Of course, for Davey. What was wrong with her? “Saturdays are normally pretty full, but I can stay awhile until we're sure he's all right.”

“I can't believe he's never been to school. Do you think perhaps we misunderstood?”

“No.” Kade made a noise of frustration. “I was hoping to trace school records. Easy to find a person that way. Which means the investigation into his identity just got tougher.”

“Oh.” She hadn't thought of that. She knew nothing about investigating a lost child or anything for that matter. Police work was off her grid. Where would he start? How would he ever discover anything about Davey's past?

They both stared for one silent, concerned beat at the boy happily playing with the affable dog. When Kade pushed a hand against his stomach—a stomach she knew bothered him when he worried—Sophie knew she would stay awhile. There were two males here that needed fixing and she was a fixer.

“There's only one thing we can do at this point,” she said.

The cynic raised a doubtful eyebrow. “What?”

She grinned a cheeky grin. “Bake cookies.”

 

The place was chaos. Granted, her classroom was
organized
chaos, but noisy and vibrant just the same. Far differ
ent from the quiet Saturday morning spent baking cookies with Davey and Kade. Two males, one terse and one mute, didn't generate a lot of noise. Nonetheless, Sophie couldn't get them out of her head this busy Monday as she and her fifth graders began the cookie project in earnest.

Sophie stole a quick glance toward the narrow window in her classroom door—a tiny space surrounded by bright paper poinsettias and shiny red garland—praying the noise didn't seep out into the hallway and disturb the sixth graders next door. More than that, she hoped the principal didn't decide to pay an unannounced visit to her classroom today.

“Miss B., our group estimates eight pounds of flour.” The speaker was Shyla, a red-haired girl with freckles across her nose. Her twin, Skyla, listened in with an identical, perplexed expression. “Zoey's group says we need five. Who's right?”

A babble of voices from surrounding groups all tried to speak at once, defending their estimations. Each year she divided the students into cooperative groups with diverse assignments. Set up in pods around the room, they began with math, estimating and figuring amounts of supplies needed for their groups' baking, costs of the goods, expected gross and net profits. The early days were always the most chaotic as kids got the hang of the project. Sophie, of course, loved every minute of it, even though she went home every evening exhausted.