The Lawman's Christmas Wish (12 page)

“Make that two of us,” he said, gazing around at the quiet, cozy, intimate dining room. “I hope you like it.”

“Coming here is a nice change of pace from pizza with the boys or lunch at Lizbet's.”

“Or stew with Granny?”

Amy laughed, exactly the effect he'd been hoping for. Nothing lifted his spirits like Amy's all-out laugh. All decked out in a green dress that set her hair on fire, the woman took his breath away. In fact, his chest was tight enough to burst.

“This is really nice, Reed. And I love the roses. That was such a sweet thing to do.” She reached across the table and placed her hand atop his. His heart bumped his rib cage. “I wish—”

The waitress arrived to take their order and Amy sat back, whatever she was about to say was lost. Disappointment filtered over him. What exactly did Amy wish? And what did it have to do with his invitation and gift of roses? Dare he ask?

“Filet mignon,” he said to the waitress. “Two.”

Amy lifted an eyebrow but didn't argue. When the waitress left, he explained. “I figured you wouldn't order it otherwise.”

“You were right. I wouldn't have.”

“Why? You don't like filet mignon?”

She leaned forward, blue eyes dancing, and whispered,

“It's expensive.”

His heart did that crazy leaping thing again, and he was sorely tempted to touch her face. She was right there, inches away. All he'd have to do is lift his hand from the table and cup her chin. Then he'd know if her skin was as silky as he suspected. The room was dim and no one was looking. Maybe he'd even kiss her.

“Sir, would you like to see our wine list?” The waitress had reappeared from nowhere.

Reed sat back, startled by his wayward thoughts. When had he begun thinking of Amy as kissable? She was Ben's
widow, and for a second he hated that painful truth worse than he hated his part in Ben's untimely death.

“No wine, thank you,” he heard Amy say. “But I'd love a cappuccino. What about you, Reed?”

“Sure.”

He'd never had a cappuccino in his life. In fact, he'd never be in a situation like this before, when he wanted so much and felt so helpless. Taking care of Amy was a promise he'd made, but he didn't just want her to be protected and provided for. He wanted her to be happy, to have nice things like steak and cappuccino, and enough money so she didn't have to worry about the town or her business. He wondered what Ben would think of that.

The waitress brought their drinks and they both sipped, saying nothing more for a few minutes. The silence was comfortable, like two old friends would be, but different, too. Reed wished he was a sparkling conversationalist, able to impress Amy in some way. But he was just himself. A small-town police chief with more flaws than the Yukon had fish.

“Amy! Chief Truscott! Yoo-hoo.”

The high-pitched, Southern voice could belong to no one but Joleen Jones. Reed laid his fork aside and turned toward the sound, just as the fluffy bleached blonde approached their table.

“Don't you two look cute together?” Joleen gushed a hic-coughing giggle and pressed three fingers to her lips. “I'd heard the rumors, but now I know it's true. I'm so happy for you.”

Reed watched as Amy glanced down, a flush cresting her cheekbones. This silly woman had embarrassed her.

“We're having dinner,” he said, hoping his frown would defray any further speculation.

“Us, too.” Joleen giggled again and fluttered a wave toward an approaching man. “Isn't he the handsomest thing?”

Harry Peterson, pot belly and all, came into view. When he spotted Reed, his usual frown was replaced by a grin. “Joleen said she spotted the pair of you over here. Place is so dark I couldn't see much of anything.”

Fluttering her eyelashes like crazy, Joleen latched on to Harry's arm and leaned against his shoulder. “But romantic, too. I love sitting in the dark with you, Harry.”

Harry's chest puffed out and he patted her hand. “Anything for the prettiest girl in town.”

“Oh, Harry, you say the sweetest things. Doesn't he say the sweetest things?” she asked Amy.

Amy smiled. She must be as amused by the pair as Reed was, but her response was kind. “I can see you're having a good time.”

“We are. Now, if you will excuse us, we'll just mosey back over into that cozy little corner by the fireplace. Are you ready, Harry?”

“When you are, darlin'.”

“Nice seeing you here, Amy. You two, Chief. Toodle-oo for now.” Joleen hunched her shoulders and giggled up at Harry, who beamed in response.

As the pair walked away, Harry glanced back, winked and lifted his hand in a thumbs-up.

The waitress came with their steaks, refilled their water glasses and departed again. Reed waited, knowing Amy would pray whether they were in public or not. When she bowed her head, he did likewise and was pleasantly surprised to find himself full of gratitude to a God he'd seldom acknowledged. He credited Amy's influence with the change. She made him aware of how good his life was, something he'd never taken time to consider.

When the prayer ended, Amy looked up with a smile. “The steak smells incredible. I could hardly pray for inhaling.”

He chuckled. “Same here. This loaded baked potato's calling my name, too.”

Daintily slicing into her filet, Amy said, “Joleen and Harry are certainly an unlikely pair.”

“You can say that again.”

“Love is funny that way.”

Fork and knife aloft, Reed's heart jumped. “Meaning?”

“You and I might see an overzealous Southern woman with big hair and a grumpy middle-aged man with a spare tire around his middle. Love sees with the heart.”

“You think they're in love?”

“They both looked happier together than I've ever seen either of them look apart.” She took a roll from the basket and dabbed it lightly with butter. “If they aren't in love now, they soon will be.”

“Are you a romantic, too?”

“I never thought of myself as one, but maybe I am.” She cocked her head to one side, grinning. “Maybe the roses did it.”

Did that mean she was feeling romantic about him? Or just romantic in general?

“I should have ordered roses before.”

“Why, Reed,” she said, fluttering her lashes in a cute imitation of Joleen. “You say the sweetest things.”

They both laughed.

“Be careful with those fancy eyelashes. I might lure you into that dark corner Joleen mentioned.”

She fluttered them again and Reed was almost positive she was flirting. With him.

And he liked it.

A
my didn't know what had gotten into her tonight. Something about the romantic atmosphere of Martelli's, the endearing courtship of Joleen and Harry, and most of all, Reed's company had brought out the woman in her. She'd laughed and flirted and thoroughly enjoyed the attentions of an attractive man. Reed, too, seemed to have enjoyed himself tonight. They'd avoided hot-button topics like the treasure and Ben's death, and she'd watched the staid cop blossom into a charming date.

Now, as they rode back to Reed's ranch house, she glanced at his profile, angular and strong in the semidarkness of the vehicle.

“What?” he said, his mouth curving into a smile. “You want to go somewhere else? Maybe scrounge up a banana split or a piece of hot apple pie?”

“Too full of good steak for that. We'd better go home.” She patted her overfilled tummy. Though she wouldn't mind extending their evening, they both had work tomorrow. “As Dorothy would tell you, there's no place like home—and morning comes early for both of us.”

He glanced her way. “Thanks.”

“For what?” she asked.

“For thinking of my place as home.”

She tilted her head, reading the meaning behind the statement. Reed needed to be needed. “The boys love being there.”

“What about their mom?”

“Her, too,” she answered honestly. As strange as it seemed, she and her sons had settled into Reed's home as if they belonged there. A sense of security such as she hadn't known in over a year resided inside the walls of Reed's ranch. But it wasn't only the feeling of protection. It was Reed himself.

She was attracted to Reed. More than attracted. And Amy wasn't quite sure what to do with the feelings.

Reed reached across the seat and found her hand. Funny how something as junior-high as clasping hands made her pulse tremble and her heart sing. She looked across at him and smiled. Even in the dim light of the dashboard, she saw him smile in return.

A peaceful contentment settled over the warm, cozy cab, as they drove the rest of the way home in silence, holding hands.

When they arrived at the ranch, the house was dark and quiet, except for a light left on in the garage. Reed parked the car and got out, coming around to open her door. He took her hand again and they went inside.

Amy reached for the light beside the kitchen door, but Reed's hand stopped her. “Wait.”

She tilted toward him, puzzled. “Why?”

His hands drifted to her waist and he held her lightly. “Thank you for tonight.”

Amy smiled. “I had a great time.”

“Me, too. The best in…” He laughed softly, pensively. “Forever, I guess.”

Amy found the admission endearing.

“Better than our Christmas tree outing?” she asked, trying for a lighter note.

“Not better, but different. Just you and me. Alone.”

Oh.
Her pulse bumped.

Toenails tapping on vinyl announced Cy's entrance. He grazed her legs, then greeted Reed with a gentle butt of his massive head. Neither paid the dog any mind.

“Can I tell you something?” Reed asked, the rumble of his voice quiet.

“We've been friends forever. You can tell me anything.”

He took a half step closer. She could see him clearly, though the room was illuminated only by the digital clocks and the glow of firelight and the lit-up Christmas tree seeping in from the living room. “I've been thinking.”

Amy considered a silly retort about Christmas gifts or the danger of thinking, but something in Reed's tone stopped her. “About?”

“Maybe I don't want to be friends anymore.”

All the air rushed out of her lungs.

“I…” She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but the answer was in the way his head lowered and his eyes fluttered shut. He was going to kiss her. And she was going to let him.

The kiss was sweet and tender and questioning. A warm, brief whisper of a kiss that set Amy's head to reeling. A paradigm shift occurred somewhere in the back of her brain. Reed Truscott was more than a friend. A lot more.

She pulled away, unsure of what she wanted from Reed and even more unsure of what he wanted from her.

That was the question that bothered her most. Could Reed be falling for her? Or would his promise to Ben always come between them?

 

Reed watched Amy scurry up the stairs without looking back, the silver chain around her neck clicking lightly as she ran.

With a deep sigh, he rubbed a hand over his face. “Blew it again, Truscott.”

He shouldn't be surprised, considering how little he knew about the kind of man a woman wanted. He knew how to be a cop. He knew how to wrangle a budget, run an office. He knew how to run a fishing boat and how to build a house with his bare hands. But he could put what he knew about being a family man on the tip of a pencil.

Perhaps he'd offended Amy with the kiss. Maybe he'd moved too fast, been too pushy. She claimed he was good at that.

Suddenly, cold to the heart, he went into the living room and banked the fireplace. Then he pulled his old recliner close to the flames and extended his sock-covered feet. Plain, ordinary thermal socks. Not zany, happy socks like Amy's. Tonight she'd worn a pair of electric knee-highs, warmed by a tiny battery attached to the tall top. He'd laughed when she showed him.

Shoot, he'd laughed at every cute thing she said.

Sighing again, he stared into the flames and remembered the too-short kiss. He should have asked permission, he supposed, but he'd acted before his brain had engaged. And when he tasted her sweet mouth, his brain had shorted out. He'd have gone on kissing her if she hadn't pulled away.

What would Ben think of him tonight? Would he punch his lights out? Or cheer him on? Had Ben expected him to court Amy, maybe even fall in love with her? What had he meant that day when they'd trekked through the wilderness and he'd asked Reed to take care of Amy and the boys if anything should happen to him?

“Marry her, Reed. Be a father to my boys.”

At first, Reed had laughed him off, sure that nothing would ever happen to an invincible wilderness expert like Ben. But in the end, he'd promised. And that promise haunted him still, a vow made to a dead man.

“I'm trying, buddy,” he whispered to the crackling fire, where it seemed he could see Ben's eyes peering out at him.

His dog, stretched full length on the rug beside the hearth, opened his one good eye, then closed it again.

Reed ran a weary hand over the back of his neck. He'd never be the man Ben James had been. He figured Amy thought the same.

 

Sunday morning, Reed's quick, questioning kiss lingered in Amy's mind like the sweet smell of roses lingered over the kitchen table. Awash in confusion, she'd rushed up the stairs and away from temptation. Part of her knew this was what Ben had wanted. But what about what Reed wanted—really wanted deep down in his heart. Was the date, the roses, the gentle kiss, for himself? Or out of loyalty to Ben?

She didn't know. And until she did, she'd have to hold her emotions in check—not an easy task for Amy James.

But today was the Lord's day, and Amy loved Sunday mornings—a time to give all her emotion and attention to her Savior and Friend. This was the next-to-last Sunday before the pageant, a fact that gave her the jitters. She wanted everything to be perfect.

“Are you boys ready for breakfast?” she called as she bounded down the stairs toward the kitchen.

A snicker, followed by a
shh
was her first clue that her two menaces were up to something.

“Boys?” With amused concern, she rounded the doorway into the kitchen and stopped at the sight before her. “What are you up to?”

With Dexter and Sammy, the sky was the limit, but if they messed up Granny's kitchen, she'd have their hides. The smell of food, especially bacon, however, made her stomach growl.

Both boys and Reed spun around, blocking the view of the table. All three were dressed and ready for church—including Reed, a stunning accomplishment in itself, and all three wore secretive smiles.

“Where's Granny?” she asked, suspicious.

“I'm right behind you.” The wiry woman cycloned in, still attired in a heavy robe and slippers, to point a skinny finger at her grandson. “What's going on in my kitchen?”

Uh-oh. This better be good.

Reed glanced at Dexter and Sammy and nodded. The three parted like the Red Sea, to reveal a table laden with pancakes, bacon, juice and coffee. “Breakfast is ready.”

Sammy bounced up and down, clapping. “Surprise, Mom my. Surprise, Granny. Me and Dexter and Chief Weed made breakfast. Do you love it?”

Happiness bubbled up inside Amy. She swept the baby-faced child into her arms for a hug. “Yes. And come here, you,” she said to Dexter.

He fell against her giggling. “Hug Chief Reed. He helped, too.”

The kitchen suddenly felt too warm. Before the dinner date, she would have hugged Reed and laughed. But now things were different. She'd relived that kiss a thousand times, and now every time she looked at him her heart jumped. She wanted to ask if his kiss had meant anything, if
she
meant anything more than obligation, but she was afraid of the answer. Either way had its drawbacks.

The uncomfortable moment passed when Reed pulled out a chair. “Come on, everyone. We don't want to be late for church.”

“We?” Amy asked as she settled at the table between Dexter and Sammy.

“I'm going.”

 

And to the delight of everyone, he did.

Redemption Christian Church was a catchall fellowship for almost everyone in town. The pretty country church, complete with a sky-high, pointed steeple, stood at the end of the main thoroughfare where it had been built a hundred years before as the town's focal point. Careful tending kept the old church as beautiful as ever.

Reed's eyes roamed over the congregation, a mismatched group of old-timers, newcomers and folks coming down out of the wilderness to worship. They dressed as they lived: some in suits and ties, others in flannel and mukluks. And Reed figured it was a testament to their honest faith that the wealthy sat with the poor, the hermit with the business owner.

The service started with songs from a hymnal, and if Reed noticed Ethan Eckles glancing at Amy, he couldn't help it. After the music came announcements about the pageant and next Saturday's tree lighting, and finally the preacher took the pulpit.

Though Reed had spent little time here, or in any church for that matter, and figured he was twenty-some years late in starting a relationship with God, the preacher's message seemed right on time. He'd been doing some reading, and a lot of listening to Amy and Pastor Ed and the others during pageant practice. A man needed God whether he wanted to admit it or not. Reed Truscott needed God. What better time than Christmas to make a new start in the right direction?

“Jesus came to earth without fanfare, except to those few shepherds out in the fields,” Pastor Ed was saying. “He made no demands, no fuss, though He was the King of Kings come down from Heaven. He made that sacrifice for one reason.
Love for all mankind. A love so great we can't comprehend it. It's a gift that cost Him everything, but it costs you nothing. All you have to do is accept.”

Reed squeezed his eyes shut and listened to the choir singing “Love Came Down.” The pastor was right. All he had to do was accept.

Jesus,
his heart whispered.
If You'll have me, here I am. Warts and all. Help me be the man I should be, the man my father wasn't.

At the thought of his father, bitterness rose in his chest like a weed springing up to choke out the flower of renewed faith. A quiet battle ensued. He could let his bitterness take control or he could let it go. The choice was his to make, and so he made it, mentally watching the bitter weed wither and die as the flower flourished.

When he opened his eyes, the world was the same, but different. He turned to share the moment with Amy and saw moisture in her eyes. She knew. Without a word, she embraced him, and he felt like a brand-new man.

 

After church Amy was surrounded by friends discussing the pageant, the Christmas tree lighting next Saturday and the treasure. By association, Reed was swept into the happy melee. The sun, which had decided to shine this particular Sunday, beamed a blinding light off the mounds of snow piled along the streets and covering the ground. The snowplow had done its job with its usual efficiency, though clearing streets was a never-ending process in Alaska's winter.

The sky was clear and the temperature was just below freezing, balmy weather for native Alaskans. Puffs of vapor swirled around smiling faces. Reed, with hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched against the cold, figured he'd remember this day and this peaceful feeling for as long as he lived.

With laughter and waves, the assembly gradually drifted apart. Car doors slammed and motors chugged off to Crock-Pot dinners or lunch at Lizbet's.

Pastor Ed broke away from the last compliment to his sermon and came toward Reed with an extended hand. “Brought you something.”

Reed took the small booklet. “What's this?”

“Amy told me you accepted the Lord during invitation. This is a Christianity 101 booklet.”

“Christianity for dummies?” Reed asked, but he tendered the question with a smile.

Pastor Ed laughed and clapped Reed on the shoulder. “If you need to talk, have any questions, anything, give me a call. Let me pretend I'm useful.”

Emotion clogged Reed's throat. He cleared it. “Thank you, Pastor. I'll do that.”

The men shook hands and Pastor Ed headed back into the church with a parting reminder about the final pageant practices in the coming week.

Amy, full of her usual energy, jitterbugged around him. “Let's celebrate. I'll buy you dinner.”