The Christmas Child (10 page)

Sophie chuckled, a motion that crinkled the corners of her eyes and displayed a tiny dimple on one cheekbone. Weird that he'd noticed something that random.

“They have a goat named Prudence,” she said. “She's a hoot. Loves people, but has a strong personality. She also makes great cheese. Davey will have fun.”

He'd been to GI Jack's place a couple of times. The mishmash of discarded, recycled flotsam and jetsam was interesting to say the least. A little boy would have a fine
time exploring. “I thought so, too, though I didn't have much say in the matter. When Ida June speaks I've learned to go with her decision or suffer the quotations.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, nodding sagely. “Ida June is as much a hoot as Prudence.”

“Yeah. Quite a gene pool I come from.” He motioned toward the table of photos. “Is that your family?”

“Those are
my
gene pool. The Bartholomews.”

“You look like your mother.”

“Really?” An emotion, a little sad and a little proud, echoed from that one word. “She's beautiful.”

Her gray eyes narrowed, but her lips curved. Full, pretty lips on a mouth that loved to laugh. “That sounds suspiciously like a compliment.”

“It was.” Okay, so he'd told her she was beautiful. That was enough. He didn't have to tell her the rest. The only way to keep his sanity and keep her safe was to keep his mouth shut. His gut threatened, just enough to let him know Vesuvius was still in there, waiting for a chance to make him suffer. Keeping things inside was killing him, but Sophie was worth the price.

What had Ida June said about a good woman and the price of rubies? He thought he was beginning to understand.

Sophie crossed the small carpeted floor and detoured around a canvas bag overflowing with schoolbooks to take up a framed photo. “This is the last picture with all of us as a family before Mom left.”

Sadness shadowed her beautiful gray eyes. Even now, the separation bothered her.

“Divorce is tough.” His parents were still together, but he had buddies who suffered through the humiliation and pain, even though a broken home seemed to go hand in
hand with being a cop. Women couldn't take the strain. Or was it the men who buckled beneath the pressure of dealing with the dregs of humanity day in and day out? He had.

He wondered what had happened to Sophie's parents but didn't pry. No use giving her an opening to ask questions he didn't want to answer.

“I was angry at my mother for years,” she said softly as she rubbed an index finger over the face in the picture. “Until yesterday.”

“What happened yesterday?” There he went, right where he'd vowed not to, sticking his nose in her private life. “You don't have to tell me.”

“No, it's all right. I don't mind. In fact, getting over my anger is such a big relief…” Her voice trailed off. She put the photo back on the table and returned to the small couch. A love seat, he thought. A cushy blue-gray love seat that nearly matched Sophie's eyes.

A soft fragrance wafted to him as she twisted one leg beneath her and settled. Either she washed her hair with coconut or the woman was a walking macaroon. Sweet and delicious.

Kade cleared his throat and scooted to one end. Sitting on something called a love seat with Sophie gave him ideas he shouldn't have.

“So what happened?” he pressed, mostly to take his mind anywhere but on clean-smelling Sophie.

Serene and apparently not as affected by his nearness as he was to hers, she told him about the sudden, stunning, unexpected divorce and her mother's secret infidelity.

“She hurt you,” he said, anger rising at a woman he didn't even know.

Sophie placed her fingertips on his arm. “She did, but I hurt myself worse.”

“I don't get it.”

“By not forgiving her. I know it doesn't make sense,” she said.

“No, it doesn't. She made the choice to leave. Not you.”

“That's what I thought, too. Then. But my dad taught me something. Being a slow learner I didn't figure it out until last night. Forgiveness is always right. My faith teaches that, but I didn't want to forgive her, so I let the anger fester. She wasn't miserable. I was.”

Moved by her generosity, he said softly, “You're a bigger person than most, Sophie B.”

“I don't know about that, but I do know I feel much better now that I've resolved things with my mother.”

“You told her?”

“Yes. Last night, after Dad and I talked, I called my mom. We had a long, honest conversation. When I told her I forgave her and I loved her, she cried.” Sophie plucked at the nap on the love seat. “She cried.”

He could see how emotional the issue was for her. She was amazing, his Sophie B. Full of love and forgiveness and decency.

“What about you? Did you cry?”

She looked up, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I did, but they were happy tears that washed away a hard place inside me that I didn't even know was there.”

Kade couldn't resist then. He touched her smooth, velvet cheek with the knuckle of his index finger. “There's nothing hard about you. Never could be. You're the softest, kindest—”

He was talking too much. He had to stop before he spilled his guts.

But there was Sophie, gray eyes gentle and accepting, and he felt a wonderful sense of rightness in being with her, here on her love seat on a quiet Sunday afternoon.

“Kade,” she whispered, her breath warm against his fingers, “I wouldn't care a bit if you kissed me.”

His heart expanded to the point of explosion. He was only a man after all, and he was half-nuts about a woman who'd just asked him to kiss her.

Hadn't he been thinking about exactly that?

He moved in closer, gaze locked on hers, full of wonder and terror and stupid happiness. When his lips touched hers, some of the hard pain inside him melted like wax. She was everything he'd known she would be. Everything he'd dreamed in his restless sleep and waking imaginings. Sweetness, purity, warmth and glory. A fierce emotion burned in him, protective and stunning.

Right before his brain shorted out, he had one sane thought. He was falling in love with a woman he didn't deserve. And he didn't know what to do about it.

T
he next morning, Kade was still reeling in the wild sensation of kissing Sophie, not once but several times. He shouldn't have. He should have cut and run for her sake, but he'd had no self-discipline yesterday afternoon.

He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, considering self-control had gotten him into the mess in Chicago. As an undercover agent—a narc—he'd played the part, done his job and lost his soul in the process. Sophie and Redemption—an aptly named town under the circumstances—had stirred a hope that he might actually find his way again.

His cell phone jingled. He plucked it from his pocket and answered. “McKendrick here.”

“Mr. McKendrick? My name is James. You don't know me, but I got this number from a newspaper here in Potterville.”

Kade sat up straighter in his chair, a tingle of excited hope racing over his skin. Potterville was thirty miles from Redemption. “I put an ad in that paper.”

“Yes, sir. That's why I'm calling. I've seen that little boy you're looking for. He and his mama used to come into the grocery store where I work.”

“You're sure it was him?”

“Pretty sure. Almost positive.”

“Do you know where his mother lives?”

“Yes, kind of,” the voice said. “They didn't socialize much, but I remember someone saying they lived in the old Rogers' place a few miles out of town.”

“Give me your name again and how to reach you.” Kade scrambled for a pen and paper, jotting down as much info as he needed. “Can you give me an address or directions to the house?”

“I think so.”

Kade wrote quickly, his pulse pumping adrenaline so fast that his head swam. This could be it. This could be the break he'd been praying for.

Armed with all the information he could pump from the man named James, he rang off and grabbed his coat. On the way out the door, he called Chief Jesse Rainmaker. He had no jurisdiction in Oklahoma, but Jesse did.

Whoever the woman was who had kept Davey under lock and key and then dumped him like a sack of garbage was about to feel the full brunt of legal fury.

 

Sophie was beside herself with excitement. Kade had left a message on her cell phone saying he'd had a break in Davey's case and wouldn't be home after school. Would she look after their boy? Of course she would. He knew that. He also knew she'd say nothing to Davey until they had more information.

She touched her cheek, warm from frequent thoughts of the kiss they'd shared yesterday afternoon. Kade had stayed until church time, although he'd never told her why he'd come over in the first place. She'd fed him grilled cheese and he'd helped her wrap Christmas gifts, a hilarious project considering he made prettier bows than she
did. They'd talked. And he'd kissed her twice more. Once when they'd been laughing at her pitiful attempt to tie a bow and then when he'd left.

She was still a little shell-shocked by that. Shell-shocked in a very good way. Maybe Christmas had come early for Sophie B.

No, not yet, because when church time had arrived, he'd gone home, refusing her invitation to come along. Disappointed but not surprised, she'd pressed for a reason. He'd given the usual joke about the church roof caving in.

Davey tapped her arm to get her attention. As she handed him the silently requested bakery box, she prayed Christmas was coming early for Davey whether it came for her or not.

A tiny selfish regret pinched her heart. She loved being with this sweet little boy, and she'd miss him terribly if Kade had discovered where he belonged. Although Kade kept his words few and his promises nonexistent, he would miss Davey, too. Hopefully Davey had a family who treasured him even more than she and Kade did.

She ruffled the top of Davey's hair and received his crooked smile as reward. Today turned out to be the perfect afternoon for him to hang out with her after school. Fifth grade had baked and decorated cookies all day.

Being too antsy to remain still, the cookies were a perfect reason for Sophie to keep moving and busy. Even her students had noticed her extra energy and had asked if she was excited about Christmas. She gave them an easy and honest affirmation, but nothing could compare with the gift of reestablishing Davey with his loved ones—if that's what was about to happen, and she prayed it was.

In a chef's apron and plastic gloves, and heedless of the drama being played out on his behalf, Davey stood at
a table sorting sugar cookies. Sophie slid each colorful dozen into zip bags and placed them into a small, white bakery box before adding the labels her class had designed—a merry little elf holding a banner emblazoned with Fifth Grade and the type of cookie. Later, she and Davey would make deliveries.

“Just a few more and we'll be finished,” she said. “Are you getting hungry?”

Davey's eyes cut from side to side before he grinned sheepishly and pointed at the bowl of broken cookies.

Sophie plopped a hand on one hip and pretended dismay. “Chef Davey, have you been filching cookie crumbs when I wasn't looking?”

He nodded, displaying those half-grown teeth stained with crumbs and food coloring.

“All right, then, my friend, I guess I'll have one of Big Bob's burgers all by myself.”

Davey made his sign for Sheba, a petting motion.

“Don't worry,” she told him. “We'll go by the house and see Sheba before we have dinner. Deal?”

He nodded, but then his eyebrows came together in a worried frown.

“What are you thinking about?” She tied a strip of green ribbon around the packed box, added the label and the buyer's name. Then she checked off the name on her master list.

Davey moved his lips, though no sound came out, shoved his hands into imaginary jacket pockets, slouched his shoulders and narrowed his eyes in what could only be an imitation of Kade.

Sophie giggled. “You're a little mimic, you know it? You have Kade down pat.” He also imitated the preacher at church from time to time and had taken to flouncing
around with lips pursed to indicate Ida June. “I think Kade is making you ornery.”

Davey hunched his shoulders in a silent laugh.

“I don't know what's taking so long, sweetie, but Kade will be here when he finishes his business. You can count on that.”

He could always count on Kade, and Sophie instinctively knew she could, too.

They packed up the rest of the cookies and left Sophie's classroom. The building was empty and silent except for the principal's office. When she passed by, he spotted her and beckoned her inside.

“Sophie, do you have a minute?”

What else could she say? “Of course.”

Holding back a sigh, she ushered Davey into the principal's office.

“Hello, Davey,” Biff said.

Davey, eyes wide and intimidated, nodded and burrowed close to Sophie.

The principal said, “He's getting attached.”

“So am I.”

He pushed aside a pad of paper and smiled. This was apparently a friendly visit. “You can sit down. I won't bite.”

“Thank you, Biff, but Davey and I are headed to Bob's to have some dinner.”

As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. Biff would think she was hinting.

Sure enough, he said, “Why don't you let me come along and I'll buy?”

Dismayed, Sophie pressed her lips together, searching for a gentle way to say no.

“Mr. Gruber,” she said, holding up the shield of professionalism, “I appreciate the kind offer. Really, I do.”

His smile froze. “But?”

“I'm seeing someone.” She hadn't meant to say that, wasn't even sure it was true, though Kade held her heart.

The smile was gone now. “McKendrick, I suppose?”

Great. What would Kade think about her announcing a fledgling relationship to the world? “Yes.”

“I see.” He straightened his shirt cuffs with a quick tug. “Don't let me keep you, then.”

“Didn't you want to speak to me about something?” Sophie asked.

“Nothing important.” His tone as cold as January, he turned his attention to what looked to be a letter on his desk. “If you'll excuse me…”

Feeling she should say something but not knowing what, Sophie turned to leave, one hand on Davey's shoulder. As she passed through the open door, Biff said softly, “I hope you know what you're doing.”

Biff's odd comment nagged at her as she and Davey headed toward Ida June's to pick up the dog. By the time they'd gotten burgers and fries she'd decided Biff had been showing concern or maybe jealously, and let it go. After delivering several dozen cookies, she and Davey headed to her house where they read and watched a kid movie and kept an ear tuned for Kade's car.

When the boy and dog started to doze on the love seat, Sophie flipped off the television and stared out the window at the silent night. The neighbors' Christmas lights chased each other around the roofline while a blow-up snowman stood sentry on the lighted front porch. Somewhere Kade followed a lead that must have significance or he would have come home by now. She leaned her forehead against the cold windowpane, thinking of him, longing to see him, but longing more to know what was going on.

Please, Lord, let this be a real break, not another dead
end that sends Kade into a broody silence and keeps Davey in limbo.

And please, heal whatever is broken inside the man I love.

 

Kade leaned his back against the cold siding, thankful—so thankful—Sophie and Davey were not with him tonight. Flecks of peeling white paint scratched against the leather of his jacket. He sucked in long drafts of night air, so desperately cold inside that the thirty-degree air warmed him.

He squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed a hand over them, wishing he could wipe away what he'd discovered in the remote, ramshackle dwelling Davey had once called home.

A hand lightly cuffed his shoulder. “Tough thing.”

Kade jerked to attention. No use going soft in front of Chief Rainmaker. “I didn't expect this.”

“Who would?” Rainmaker rubbed his sandpapery palms together against the night chill. Neither he nor Jesse had jurisdiction in this area, but the county sheriff had granted them courtesy. Already, at his call, a team of investigators crawled over the place, probably the first people to visit Davey's mother in a very long time.

And she was dead.

He ground his teeth together, stomach raging-hot fire. “What do you think killed her?”

The Native American eyed him thoughtfully. “From all appearances, she died of natural causes. No signs of foul play, no forced entry. Nothing to indicate suicide.”

“Just a dead woman and a messy house,” Kade said grimly.

“Mostly the kitchen. Evidence that Davey was alone
with his deceased mother for some time before hunger drove him to seek food and help.”

Kade's fist clenched and unclenched. “I don't like thinking about Davey alone in this house with a mother he couldn't wake up.”

“Nor do I, but empty cupboards and refrigerator, dirty dishes and spilled milk. They all point to a child fending for himself.”

“And trying to take care of his mother.” Kade closed his eyes again tightly, fighting the images in the woman's bedroom. He desperately wanted to talk to Sophie. Somehow she'd make him believe everything would work out for the best. She would pray and God would listen.

But he didn't want her here to see this. Knowing would hurt her badly enough. “The mother must have been sick for a while.”

“Probably.” Jesse shuffled his boots against the hard-packed ground. His equipment rattled. “When she didn't waken, he covered her with blankets.”

Yanking a tight rein on his emotions, Kade turned toward the rickety front porch. “Let's get back in there. We've got a job to do.”

Jesse's thoughtful gaze stayed on him. “You don't have to do this, McKendrick. The county boys can handle it.”

“I started it,” he said grimly. “This time, I finish.”

Rainmaker couldn't know what he meant, but he'd been a cop long enough to understand the sentiment. Kade had something to prove, if only to himself.

“Davey is lucky to have you on this in the first place. We might not have found her for months without your extra efforts.”

A car door slammed and both men looked toward a technician carrying in a satchel of equipment. Trees surrounding the yard shed eerie, fingerlike shadows over the
run-down dwelling and the professionals doing their macabre duty.

“Had to do something, though this doesn't help Davey at all.” He spoke through clenched teeth, deeply angry at a situation he could not fix. Once again, he'd been too late to make a difference. “None.”

“Even as bad as the outcome,” Jesse said with quiet authority, “you did an exceptional job. My timing may be off, but let me say it anyway. I could use you on my force. Granted, we can't compare to Chicago—”

Kade interrupted him with a sour laugh. “I'll think about it. Later.”

The answer surprised him a little. He had every intention of returning to Chicago as soon as the shrink released him. Still, Jesse deserved the courtesy of consideration.

The two men stepped onto the old porch, a wooden structure about to cave in.

Rainmaker's heavy boots made hollow sounds on the loose boards. “Walk easy.”

“And carry a big stick?” Kade asked wryly.

Jesse huffed softly at the humor, a cop's major protection against the stress that could lead to insanity. “Yeah.”

They entered the house. Even though every light blazed and a beehive of uniformed men and woman worked, an empty coldness sucked the warmth from Kade's bones. In his experience, death did that to a place. “Maybe something in this house will give us Davey's full name.”

A technician handed them both a pair of gloves. “You know the drill,” she said.