The Lawman's Christmas Wish (4 page)

“Then why won't He let Cy come in the church?”

Reed cast around for an answer that would satisfy the inquisitive child and keep himself out of hot water with Amy. If he told Dexter that Jesus didn't like dogs, she'd skin him alive. Besides, he knew very little about Jesus's likes and dislikes. Other than sin. He knew Jesus was nice to people and didn't approve of sin. Dexter adored both Cy
and
Jesus. No use causing conflict. “Loud music hurts his ears.”

“Jesus's ears?”

Holding back a grin, Reed said, “Cy's. A dog's ears are very sensitive.”

“Oh. Can I pet Cy after practice?”

“Sure. Anytime.”

Apparently satisfied, Dexter loosened his grip on Reed's
thigh and meandered away toward his younger brother, who'd taken up with Casey Donner. Casey, ever the rough-and-tumble tomboy, had scooped up the smallest James child and was toting him around on her back. Reed could rest easy as long as they were with Casey. She'd wrestle a charging moose for one of those boys.

“Come on up front and sit down, Chief Truscott.” Mrs. Michaels was back, smiling her serene, toothy smile. “The choir will get started in a minute. Amy's put together a lovely program this year.”

Feeling as out of place as a walrus, Reed nodded politely and moved toward the front. He could keep a better eye on Amy this way. Instead of slipping into one of the pews, he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

Ethan Eckles, a talented musician who taught school and worked as a part-time guide for Amy, struck a chord on the piano, and the noise in the room ceased.

The quiet was short-lived.

A
my was acutely aware of Reed Truscott staring at her from across the room. She could practically feel his dark eyes lasering through the back of her Christmas-green cable knit. He didn't fool her one bit. He'd never so much as darkened the doors of this church, and now, there he was, looking as dangerous and rugged as the Chilkoot, filling up the room with his protective presence. When was he going to get the message that she could take care of herself? She disliked being someone's responsibility—especially his.

Her conscience pinched.
Sorry, Lord,
she thought.
I'm glad he's here, no matter the reason. Forgive me for being so prickly.

It was true. Being around Reed disturbed her. Regardless of her protestations to the contrary, she had the insane urge to be close to him. All that terse, macho protectiveness was beginning to feel…nice.

But if she let him know, he'd start up with his ridiculous, condescending proposal again, reminding her that he didn't love her, but that he'd promised Ben.

“Mommy?” Sammy's little voice broke through her thoughts. He and the other children not in the program were
supposed to be in the children's room, playing games. “Can I stay up here by you?”

Amy sighed. Ever since the break-in, Sammy had not wanted to be out of her sight. He snuggled tight to her at night and clung during the day. He was sucking his thumb too much again, as well.

“Chief Reed is here,” she said, knowing instinctively that this would reassure him.

Her son's face brightened. “He is? Where?”

Aware that Reed was watching with his sharp, hawk eyes, she slowly pivoted, turning Sammy with her. She pointed. “Over there. By the wall.”
Staring a hole through my back.

“Can I go stand by him?”

She wanted to be the one to give her son confidence, but so far she'd failed. “You can stay up here with me. We're safe, Sammy. The chief is here and so am I.”

She didn't like using Reed this way, but she'd do whatever helped her son get over the recent trauma. And she really was glad to see Reed in church, even if he wasn't here for the right reasons. Being here at all was a start. She and Ben had invited him often, had witnessed their faith to him, and while he was never outright rude, Reed remained quietly resistant, always using his job as an excuse. For once, his job had brought him to God's house.

Dragging the black, flop-eared, stuffed Puppy that had seen too many washings, Sammy trudged to the front pew and curled up, his small, booted feet poking off the edge. Maybe he'd go to sleep.

Satisfied, Amy turned back to the mingling, chattering group assembling in the choir area. Ethan Eckles shuffled pages of sheet music on the piano. Ethan, an elementary school teacher, also worked as a part-time tour guide with her company. Some folks were surprised by the rugged Alaskan's musical prowess, but Amy wasn't. There was an artistic side
to the man she'd come to know, behind the quiet, brown eyes and chiseled jaw.

“Ethan, are you ready to get started with choir practice?” As director of the Christmas pageant, Amy organized every single detail, but Ethan directed the choir and played the piano.

“Delilah's not here yet. Neither is Harry.”

Delilah Carrington—though she couldn't carry a tune in a fishing boat—was normally the first one to arrive and the last one to leave. Since giving her heart to the Lord a few weeks ago, Delilah was an enthusiastic member of the pageant, singing, decorating and even buying props with her own money. For her to be late was odd. Harry Peterson, on the other hand, was never on time. The powerful bass singer would eventually jog in, grumbling about something or someone holding him up at the General Store.

Lately, he was even grumpier, and Amy suspected Joleen Jones was the reason, although Harry had done his best to drive away the overeager Southern belle. Amy kept hoping both of them would get a double dose of the Christmas spirit.

“I hope everything is okay,” Amy said. “But we need all the practice we can get to pull this off. We'll have to start without them.”

Joleen, bleached platinum hair fluffed like cotton candy and vermillion mouth talking a mile a minute, had already taken her place next to Neville Weeks in the choir. At the mention of Harry's name, she'd gone silent, one beringed hand pressed against her throat. Amy felt sorry for the woman. Why she adored Harry Peterson was a mystery, but she did. After she'd chased—and alienated—nearly every man in town, the grumpy, pot-bellied proprietor of the town's general store had won her heart. And broken it.

Ethan took over, quietly and patiently instructing the choir as if they were a bunch of fidgety elementary students, and
the off-key, endearing sounds of Christmas began. Amy had maneuvered the microphones so that the best voices were near the speakers and the worst were in the back, staggering them according to height and voice.

She made a mental note to check with Pastor Michaels about the choir robes. The old burgundy robes would do fine, if the church could come up with the money to have them cleaned and pressed and to replace the worn, white stoles with new forest-green ones.

Satisfied that Ethan had the music under control, she headed for the stairs up to the balcony, where the teenagers and several of the men, led by Gage Parker, were setting up lighting. She glanced back to see Sammy trailing her, dragging Puppy.

Inadvertently, her gaze went to Reed. Sure enough, he was watching. A warm flush slid up the back her neck. Reed pushed off the wall as if to follow her, too. She held up an index finger to stop him. She would not be stalked by the town's police officer, not even for her own good—
especially
for her own good.

Reed's jaw tightened as he squinted her way. After a silent battle of wills, his chest rose and fell in a huff. He recrossed his arms and leaned back into his place on the wall, though his eyes remained fixed on hers.

Amy hovered on the stairs, holding Sammy's hand while the sound of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” swelled around her, the familiar old hymn filling the church and her spirit. Lighted Christmas wreaths ringed the sanctuary walls. One was positioned directly above Reed and set his dark skin aglow. His brown-black hair was mussed from the wind and the ends glistened damply. He'd unsnapped his dark blue service jacket and it hung open to reveal the lean officer's shirt, complete with patches and badge and unidentifiable service pins. Reed Truscott was a handsome man in a rugged kind of way.

Amy's stomach fluttered. She tried to blame the reaction on the bulge of what could only be a gun at Reed's side. A weapon in church didn't seem right.

One thing for sure, she needn't worry about the thieves if he was around. Reed would take care of her and the rest of Treasure Creek. It was, as he constantly reminded her, his duty.

“Amy?”

Relieved at the distraction, Amy turned toward the female voice coming from above.

A troubled face, surrounded by bouncy red ringlets, looked down at her from the top of the stairs.

“Delilah! I didn't know you were here. Why aren't you rehearsing with the choir?”

In Ugg boots, snug jeans and a sheepskin vest, Delilah was fashion personified, though not nearly as high fashion as she'd once been. She and the other women who'd come to Treasure Creek were quickly learning that high fashion and Alaskan winters didn't jive all that well.

The petite young woman shrugged. “I don't really feel like singing tonight.”

Though she usually put on a happy face, Delilah was a new Christian, and she still struggled with feelings of self-worth. Though they were close in age and very similar in size and looks, Amy felt eons older than Delilah, and had taken it upon herself to mentor and encourage her new friend. She trotted up the stairs. “Want to talk about it?”

Delilah gazed around at the chaos of people discussing, stringing lights and speakers, and setting up props, all of them clamoring for Amy's input. “Do you have time?”

Amy made a face. “We'll make time. Come on. Let's grab a cup of hot chocolate.” To the working masses, she called, “Be back in a bit. You guys know what to do.”

“Sure, Amy,” someone hollered. “We've got you covered.”

The notion warmed her heart. This little town pulled together. They
did
have her covered.

She and Delilah maneuvered the stairs again, this time heading down. As they reached the side door and were exiting the sanctuary, Amy glanced back to see Nate talking to Reed. Good. He didn't notice her. It would be embarrassing to have the town police chief follow her around the church like a bodyguard.

Concerned about what could be troubling Delilah, she put Reed out of her mind and headed through the exit and down the long hallway toward the fellowship hall, which did double duty as an all-purpose room. Sammy and his faithful Puppy trailed along, holding her hand. She stopped at the children's church and urged him to go inside. The noise and activity of half a dozen playing, laughing children drew him in, and before she closed the door, Amy saw the nursery worker lift Sammy onto her lap and open a book. Sammy loved stories. He would be okay for a while.

Once inside the fellowship hall, Amy went to the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining area. “There's hot cider and cocoa in packages. Coffee in the pot.”

“Coffee's okay with me.” Delilah sounded glum, as though nothing mattered, especially coffee.

Comfortable in her childhood church, Amy took two disposable cups and handed one to her friend. Needing the buzz of energy from a good cup of chocolate and sugar, she said, “Cocoa for me.”

The big room was amazingly empty, though Amy knew it would not remain that way long. Folks would meander in for refreshments soon, and many of the props were being created here. Even now, the smell of paint hung in the air and a cardboard camel, festooned with a braided turquoise
halter, leaned against one wall. Glittered stars were spread across another newspaper-covered table. And a pile of tools and lumber littered one corner.

Silently, the women made their drinks and then settled at one of the empty folding tables. Amy's shoulders relaxed in the familiar, homey setting. She had enjoyed many dinners and celebrations in this room, and the place never failed to evoke happy memories. Her wedding reception had been held here, and both her babies had been welcomed with showers in this very place. She was a blessed woman in so many ways.

She looked across the table at Delilah, realizing that her friend had no such happy memories to sustain her through hard times. From their brief talks, she'd learned that Delilah had grown up in California, the child of low-budget actors whose focus had been on making it big and being seen, rather than making memories with their child. No wonder Delilah sometimes came on too strong.

Amy sipped at her cocoa, then wrapped both hands around the warm cup and waited.

Delilah stirred sweetener into her coffee, then lay the spoon aside. The metal clinked softly against the Formica tabletop. “You're going to think I'm crazy.”

“Between the treasure, the engagements, the weddings and now Christmas, we're all a little crazy. Join the crowd.”

This at least got a smile out of the depressed Delilah.

“Well, I'm crazier than most.” She sipped her coffee and Amy waited, knowing the conversation would come. “It's the engagements that have me thinking. Everyone is finding Mr. Right, getting engaged or married. Sometimes I feel like such a fool. I came here dreaming of finding the perfect man and now…”

Amy smiled against her cup. Delilah and plenty of others thought Treasure Creek, Alaska, was the answer to their romance problems. At the same time, she felt sorry for Delilah
and the others who were lured by the promise of handsome men under their Christmas trees.

“Sometimes I wish I'd never given that magazine interview,” Amy admitted.

Delilah looked stricken. “But then we'd never have met. And I'd never have found Christ.”

Instantly repentant, Amy reached over and patted Delilah's small hand. “I didn't mean that. A lot of good has come out of that article.” If not for the influx of tourists, the town would be well on its way to becoming another of Alaska's ghost towns. “I was just thinking how disappointed you and a few others have been. The magazine led you to believe something that wasn't true.”

“Oh, but it is true. There are plenty of rugged, handsome, manly men in Treasure Creek.”

And Delilah had chased them all. That was the problem. She had come on so strong that most of the men had run backward to escape her obvious man-hunting. Delilah was pretty and outgoing and charming in her own way, but she was only just now learning that being obnoxious and overbearing—even in a fur coat, fancy clothes and expensive Ugg boots—was not attractive.

“I thought you were interested in Corey Martelli.”

Delilah lifted one shoulder. “Not really. Not anymore. He's cute and all, but he's not my type.”

“Who is your type?”

“You're going to think I'm crazy.”

Half of Treasure Creek already did. Delilah had started planning a wedding—without a groom—the moment she'd hit town. Amy smiled. “You already said that. So tell me.”

“Promise not to laugh.”

Amy crossed her heart. “Promise.”

“Ronald Pfifer.”

With a frown, Amy said, “I don't think I know him.”
And she knew practically everyone in and around Treasure Creek.

“You wouldn't. He's from back home in L.A.”

“Ah, an old flame.”

“More like an old friend. We grew up together—Ronald on one side of the street and me on the other. He was always there. My nerdy, redheaded best friend with thick glasses and a big nose. I cried on his shoulder every time a boyfriend dumped me.”

“He sounds like a very nice man.”