The Lawman's Christmas Wish (7 page)

“I'll see you and the boys safely out,” he said.

“Don't you have more investigation to do?”

“Finished.” He rose, easily lifting Dexter into his arms.

By now Dexter's tears had stopped, but he sniffed and shuddered into a tissue Jenny had given him.

After a few more comments to the others present, Amy followed Reed and his dog out into the cold, gray day.

She turned toward the parking lot and her SUV, reluctant to be alone. “I'm parked near the front.”

“I'm in back.” Yet he didn't relinquish Dexter.

“Reed,” she started.

“Amy.” He faced her, stance spread in the crusty snow like a gunfighter of old. A bill cap bearing the police emblem shaded his eyes. “You can't go home.”

She said nothing, simply remained there in the crisp December air, holding Sammy close. She'd never been afraid of anything, but now, with her babies threatened, she tasted a fear so profound it nearly took her to her knees.

“You understand that, don't you?” Reed insisted. “You have to pack up and move to my place until this is over.”

“I can stay with Casey.”

“She can't protect you the way I can.”

He was right. Casey would try, but Reed was the police chief. He was trained to protect people. He was trained to know the good guys from the bad guys.

Sammy's baby breath puffed against her neck, warm and moist. He was asleep on her shoulder, depending on her to take care of him.

Lord, what should I do?

“Will you get them, Chief Reed?” her other son asked, arms wrapped around Reed's neck as though he'd never let go. “Will you?”

Most men would have quibbled. Reed simply clenched his jaw and said, “Yes.”

Amy knew he meant that single word with everything in him. She also knew she had her answer. Regardless of how uncomfortable she might feel about moving into his house as a guest, Reed would protect her sons.

And that was all that mattered at the moment.

 

With Reed rambling around down below like a suspicious cop, Amy was upstairs in her blue house, packing for the temporary move to the police chief's ranch. She knew the decision would cause speculation, but that was the least of her concerns today. Although she planned to be in town on
a regular basis and could come by anytime for other items, she wanted to take the things that mattered most to her and the boys. Right now, they all needed the comfort of familiar, well-loved belongings.

Opening the top drawer of her dresser, she withdrew a packet of letters. She'd found them after Ben's death, both touched and crushed to know he'd written a secret love letter to her before every wilderness excursion. “Just in case,” each letter said. She knew what he meant. Just in case he didn't return.

She smoothed open the last letter, taking comfort in the familiar scribble of Ben's handwriting. Before that particular excursion, he'd been increasingly worried about the struggling economy and the subsequent decline in their tour business. The wild river tours had been his way of generating extra funds, though he was acutely aware of the danger. But Ben was safety-conscious and an excellent guide. Concern for his customers had caused his death, not recklessness.

Her gaze roamed over the familiar words. She'd read and reread the letter until the paper had become limp. His previous letters were filled with love and bubbling with the joy of the Lord and their lives together. This last one was different, as though his spirit was heavy with the secret knowledge that he would not return.

“It's still Christmastime. The Lord has given me everything I could ever want—my beloved family. If I don't come home to you, my sweet Amy, your gift to me is that you and the boys won't spend the next Christmas alone. Christmas is for families and little boys need a father.”

Tears welled in Amy's eyes as they always did. Was Ben looking down from Heaven this very moment, speaking to her through his letter, urging her to remarry?

She'd pondered the words many times. In the past, she'd been repulsed by the idea. Today she felt nothing but sadness
at the loss of a good husband and a fine man. Maybe someday she would find love again. She wanted to. She was still young and her heart ached with such loneliness at times that she cried out to God for comfort.

Her thoughts went to Reed Truscott.

Childish giggles rose up the staircase and filtered in through her open bedroom door. A low rumble of Reed's voice followed.

Amy listened for a moment, feeling safe and protected.

Reed Truscott would marry her tomorrow if she asked, but she wouldn't. If she ever remarried, it would not be for protection, nor for a father for her boys, nor for her business or for any other reason except the God kind of love she'd shared with Ben.

Reed's voice intruded again. She listened, heart lifting oddly at the strong, warm sound.

She shut the door and kept on packing.

His proposals had been clear. They should marry because Ben expected him to take care of her.

But Amy James wouldn't settle for less than love.

H
is house felt different.

Reed paused in the doorway between the living room and kitchen to watch his houseguests. He'd just arrived home from a late shift, but wasn't nearly as tired as he'd been of late. Probably because he didn't need to worry so much about Amy. She was here in his house, safe and protected the way Ben would want.

At the moment, she and her sons were ensconced on his navy-plaid couch, one boy on each side of the mother, staring at an enormous picture book. A fire snapped in the fireplace and added an amber glow to the cozy scene. A puzzling mix of tension and contentment swirled around inside him like scented candle smoke.

From the time two days ago when Granny had opened the rarely used dormer floor for the use of his guests, Amy, Dexter and Sammy had taken over his home in the most interesting way. He was accustomed to very quiet evenings and a spotless house. Though the boys were ordinary little boys, they were noisy and active. Reed had stepped on more than one tiny metal car in his sock feet and had gone around hopping with his teeth gritted. Granny Crisp had laughed at him.

The truth was, he liked having them here, no matter what.

He must have made a noise, because all three of the little family looked up from the book and caught him watching them.

Amy's bow mouth curled in a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Stupid thing to say. But he'd never been glib of tongue with women. Not that he considered Amy a woman. Well, she was, but not in that way. Whatever way he meant. She was Ben's widow.

The constant reminder poked like a sticker in his sock.

He crossed to the fireplace and spread his hands over the heat. “Cold outside.”

Another stupid comment. This was Alaska. In December. Of course it was cold outside.

“Not as bad as it could be.”

His shoulders relaxed. She wasn't making fun of him. He turned around. “True.”

December had been kind so far.

“You want to read with us, Chief?” Dexter's gray eyes searched him.

“Yeah, come read with us.” Sammy was snuggled under his mother's right arm.

“What are you reading?” he started toward the trio, unsure of the protocol. Had anyone ever read to him when he was small? He barely remembered his mother. His father certainly hadn't, and he hadn't come to live with Granny until he was too old for story time.

“Rudolph.”
Dexter patted the couch cushion next to him. Reed sat.

Before he was well settled, Dexter was on his lap. Warmth crept into Reed. He didn't much know what to do with kids, but these little boys belonged to Ben, and he didn't want to let them down. He snaked his left arm around Dexter's middle and was pleased when the child leaned back against him, snuggling in for the read.

Cy, who'd trailed in with his master, circled three times before coming to rest on the rug in front of the fireplace. He sighed softly as he rested his snout on his feet. His eyebrows twitched as his one-eyed, golden gaze volleyed between his master and the two little boys.

Dexter strained toward the open pages of
Rudolph,
pulling against Reed's hold. “I can't see the book, Chief.”

“Oh, sorry.” Reed started to withdraw his arm and move away, but Dexter clamped on like a vise.

“No, Chief. Scoot.”

Scoot? As in closer to Amy? His pulse jumped. He cleared his throat.

No use making a big deal of it. Reed scooted until Dexter could see the pictures of reindeer frolicking in the snow. The action trapped Reed's right arm, smashing his shoulder against Amy. She didn't appear to notice, but he certainly did. After a few seconds of painful indecision, while his loyalty to Ben warred with having Amy this close, he slid his arm over the back of the couch. Her long hair tickled the back of his hand. He could smell her Christmas-cookie scent, mixed with the warm body heat of little boys and the rich fragrance of food coming from Granny's kitchen.

“Can you see all right?” Amy asked, tilting her head toward him.

“Fine.” He cleared another unexpected frog from his throat.

“Can you see, Dexter?”

“Yep. Read, Mama. I like this part.”

Amy began to read about the reindeer refusing to let Rudolph play with them. Sammy's thumb popped out of his mouth. “I feel sorry for Wudolph.”

“Me, too,” Dexter said. “Why won't they let him play? He's nice.”

“Because he's different,” Amy said. “See, boys, this is why you should always treat people nicely, no matter how they
look. We're all different on the outside. It's the inside that matters. God looks at your heart, not at your nose.”

She tapped Dexter's nose and rubbed her face against Sammy's. Both boys giggled.

Leave it to Amy to weave a Bible lesson into the story of a flying reindeer. She went back to reading. Reed listened to the gentle rhythm of her sweet voice, thinking how lucky Sammy and Dexter were to have Amy James for a mother. When she closed the book, he was surprised to find the story over, and even more surprised at his reluctance to move away from the cozy little family.

Family.

Granny Crisp sashayed in through the front door, letting in a waft of cold air. He had no idea where she'd been.

“You two.” She pointed at Dexter and Sammy. “Come with me.”

“Is it a surprise, Granny?” Dexter had already figured out that she was a cupcake who usually had something entertaining up her sleeve. It might be a cookie—a surefire favorite—or a new game or even a cocoon she'd found stuck to the inside of the garage. The latest of these was in a jar on the mantel, awaiting spring.

“You never know until you come.” Granny whipped off a pair of “bunny boots”—big, fat, white rubber boots that kept her feet warm up to temperatures of sixty below—and in brown thermal socks, traipsed off toward the back of the house. Dexter and Sammy hopped down and followed. Cy tailed them, fluffy tail wagging.

“The Pied Piper,” Amy said, smiling at the back of her boys.

“In thermal socks.” Which put him in mind of Amy's socks. She seemed to have a hundred pair of crazy things to wear on her feet. Tonight, the socks were glittery silver, with red
bells and green pom-pom balls. He knew, because her feet were propped on the ottoman right in front of him.

At that moment, he realized he was still sitting close to her on the couch. Real close. And the boys and the book were gone. He should move away. He didn't.

He cleared his throat again. Must be coming down with something. “I wanted to talk to you without the boys anyway.”

Amy shifted, pivoting her body so that her back was against the couch arm and she was facing him. With firelight flickering in her hair and against her skin, she was golden and beautiful. Too beautiful for a guy like him.

“Is it about the men at the school? Did you find out who they were?”

“No, but Casey recognized the description.”

“Casey? How?”

“One of the descriptions matched the man she saw on the trail.”

“The one who tried to take the map?” She pushed at a lock of hair.

Reed resisted the urge to help. “One and the same.”

“At least we have a description now. We can spread the word, and everyone in town can stay alert in case the man comes lurking again.”

“I'm way ahead of you. Casey did a sketch. It's rough, but good enough, I think.”

“Good.” She turned her head to stare into the fire. The light caught in her red hair and danced in rhythm with the flickering flames. She had such pretty hair. He thought again about touching it to see if it was as soft as it looked, but resisted. She was his guest, not his girl.

The thought caught in his brain and repeated like a CD on continuous play. She wasn't his girl. But he'd asked her to be his wife.

Oh, Ben, what did you do to me?

He started to get up, but Amy said, “How was your day?” and he resettled.

“Mostly uneventful. Boring.”

She laughed. “It's been a while since you could say that.”

His mouth twitched and he relaxed more. He and Amy had been friends for years.
Friends.
He needed to remember that.

“Calm before the storm.”

“Pessimist.” She wrinkled her nose at him. She was so cute when she did that. “Maybe the storm is over.”

She was teasing, and he liked it. Trouble was, he had no snappy comeback. “I hope you're right.”

A log fell in the fireplace, shooting sparks and drawing their attention. They watched the glow for several seconds of comfortable silence.

“Great socks.”

“Yeah?” She wiggled her toes. “Want me to buy you a pair for Christmas?”

“If word got out that the police chief wore jingle bells on his socks, no one would take him serious.”

“It could be our little secret.”

Her blue eyes sparkled up at him and pleasant warmth ballooned in his chest. Again, he fought the urge to touch her. A touch might do him in. “We already have one, remember?”

“How could I forget? Hopefully, no one else finds out you keep the treasure chest hidden at the police station.”

“It's safe there. Don't worry.” He might tell her not to worry, but he worried every second. If anything happened to Amy's treasure, she and the town would be crushed. They'd pinned so many hopes and dreams on the mysterious contents of one small box. “Only a couple of weeks left until we can finally see what's inside that chest and put this whole thing behind us.”

“Or in front of us,” Amy said with her insistent optimism.
“Haven't you noticed how the townspeople have become energized with the excitement? For a while there, they'd been too glum to decorate for the holidays, and now we're having a big decorating bash the week before Christmas. For all the problems it's caused, the treasure is a good thing.”

Amy was certain God wanted to bless the town through whatever was inside that treasure chest. Reed sure hoped God didn't let them down.

“I guess you'll be right in the middle of the town decorations.”

“Won't you?”

“Wouldn't miss it.” As the town's peace officer, he couldn't. Plus, he'd have to keep an eye on Amy and the boys. “You want to watch some TV?”

“No. I like sitting here looking at your fire, thinking.” She rubbed her upper arms.

“I'll put more wood on.”

He started to rise, but Amy caught his elbow. “The fire is fine, Reed. Sit and relax. You work hard.”

That simple little comment had a strange effect on Reed Truscott. He sat down again, this time putting more space between him and Amy so that he could look at her while they talked. Self-torture, but worth the pain. “So do you. I'm surprised you aren't working on a costume or something.”

“As a matter of fact…” She reached down beside the end of the couch and pulled up a basket of Christmas balls. “Do you like them?”

“Sure.” He frowned at a bright, shiny red ball decorated with lace and glitter. “What are they?”

Amy giggled. “I'm personalizing the decorations for your Christmas tree.”

“What?”

“The boys and I want a Christmas tree.” She pointed at an empty corner of the room. “Right over there.”

“I never put up a tree.”

“You've never had two little boys underfoot, either. We need a tree, Reed.”

Did she say “we”?

“Well, okay,” he said uncertainly. Kids expected a tree. Why hadn't he thought of that? Amy and the boys weren't going anywhere until after Christmas, which meant they would have Christmas morning right here in this room. Sweat broke out on his neck. Would he be expected to play Santa? Not that he minded. In fact, he kind of liked the idea, but what exactly did Santa do?

“Let's cut our own.” Amy was like a dog with a meaty bone, and her boundless energy had kicked in again. She hopped up from the couch. “What do you say? Are you too tired? We could go now.”

Like a family,
he thought. He and Amy and Dexter and Sammy traipsing through the woods with a big, green pine, like something from a Norman Rockwell painting.

He gazed down at the bouncy redhead looking up at him with that excited expression and had the strongest urge to pull her into his arms. He might even kiss her, and they'd laugh together in anticipation of the tree they were going to put up. Then they'd bundle the boys and hold hands as they headed into the woods for the perfect Christmas tree. Their first together.

Amy's cell phone rang, a discordant jangle that jarred some sense into him. This was Ben's family, not his.

“No,” he said and turned away, but not before he saw the light die on Amy's face.

 

“Hello.” As she spoke into the receiver, Amy kept one eye on Reed, who'd gone from friendly and teasing to stony-eyed and crabby faster than Rudolph's nose could blink.

What was it with this guy? Did he hate Christmas trees?
Well, he might as well get over that, because her children were going to put up a tree. And Mr. Cranky was going to help. He might even like it.

“Amy?”

Amy yanked her focus to the voice coming through the phone. “Yes. This is Amy. Who is this?”

“Ethan.”

“Oh, hi, Ethan. How are you?”

Reed, who had started out of the living room, pivoted to glare in her direction. She cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow. He narrowed his dark eyes, watching her like a cougar watches a deer. Feeling ornery, Amy made the angled shape of a tree with an index finger and pointed toward the window.

Reed shook his head. “No.”

She made a face at him. They were getting a tree.

“Sorry, Ethan,” she said, holding Reed's stubborn stare with one of her own. “What were you saying?”

“Heard you moved out to Reed Truscott's ranch.” Ethan's tone was casual, but she detected a note of disapproval.