The Sheriff's Christmas Twins (22 page)

Clenching his fists, he battled the urge to wrap her in his arms. No question how that would go. He liked his nose the way it was currently situated on his face.

“I didn't tell you earlier because I knew you wouldn't budge from the house,” he said quietly. “I thought...if I got you out here, you'd be more willing to listen.”

“You manipulated me.”

“You have a right to be angry. But I know how people like Gentry Whitaker and his clan operate. They're petty and closed-minded. They're miserable and want everyone around them to be, too.”

“Then why risk it?” she demanded, glaring at him. “Why should I allow them to decide Izzy and Charlie's future? Fenton is their blood relative, too. He's been with them since their birth. The Whitakers have seen them once!”

“They'll find out. Sooner or later, one of them will come to town, and someone will take great pleasure in informing them that a well-to-do lady from Virginia has taken custody of their kin. Even though they've had nothing to do with the twins, they'll view it as an outsider getting one over on them,” he said. “Besides, Fenton wants you to do this.”

Allison buried her face in her hands. “What if they forbid me to take them? What then?” Her words were mumbled, but her desperation came through loud and clear.

Taking hold of her upper arms, he gently urged her toward him. “I'll hire a lawyer. We'll fight this together.”

She lifted her head. Her misery struck him like a physical blow. After praying the whole night through for a positive outcome, Shane was pretty sure God was tired of hearing about this. He prayed again, anyway.
Please let the Whitakers do what's right by those babies.

“I'm not family. They are.”

“Think about it, sweetheart.” He rubbed his hands lightly up and down the length of her arms. “As things stand now, a judge would look favorably on you. The Whitakers have proved their apathy. If you flee the state, then Clyde Whitaker will be portrayed as a wronged father desperate to have his children returned.”

She took a shuddering breath and moved away, forcing him to drop his arms.

“The choice is yours,” he said, wishing she'd let him comfort her. “We can ride back the way we came. Or we can continue on.”

* * *

Shane was right.

Allison knew it deep down in her soul, where hurt and anger couldn't drown out sound reasoning. Trepidation wrapped its tentacles around her, suffocating the bright hope inside.
You have to fight it
, she silently scolded herself.
God put you in Izzy and Charlie's lives for a reason. He has a plan. It may not turn out to be the plan you want, but He knows what's best.

Resuming her place on the horse's broad back, she urged him onward. Knowing Shane would follow, she didn't bother looking back.

Even though his intentions were good, she couldn't help but feel wounded by the fact he'd misled her. He hadn't wanted to simply
be
with her. Not like she yearned to be with him...every minute of every day.

Wake up, Allison. He's never going to want that.

She should be grateful he was willing to help her in this, especially since he hadn't initially approved of her plan. After half an hour of letting her take the lead, Shane edged his horse alongside hers. He pointed out a wisp of smoke curling through the crooked treetops.

“We're almost there.”

Allison's tummy flipped on itself. Unable to speak, she nodded.

As they drew closer, she began to notice the discarded tools half-buried in dirt and leaves and rusted farm equipment that looked as if it hadn't been used in decades. The chicken coop was a mess of twisted wire. One good, stiff wind could topple the open stable. Was this family too destitute to do repairs? Or did they simply not take pride in their ownership?

They came around to the ramshackle cabin's front side. Allison heard the click of a rifle. Beside her, Shane stiffened as a grizzly bear of a man loped off the porch, his gun leveled at them.

“What brings you all the way out here, Sheriff?” His upper lip curled in contempt.

“Afternoon, Gentry.” Shane positioned his horse slightly in front of hers. “The lady and I have business to discuss with you and your son.”

He flicked a careless glance her way. The flatness of his eyes sent cold dread through her.

“She ain't expectin', is she?”

His crude manner sparked her temper. How dare he insinuate such a thing!

Splayed against his thigh, Shane's fingers curled into a tight fist. Before she knew what was happening, he had his weapon drawn.

“Watch your mouth, Whitaker.” His voice dripped with venom.

Allison shivered at this rare glimpse of Shane's ruthless side.

Inch by inch, Gentry lowered his rifle. “Last time a female came 'round here lookin' for Clyde, she claimed he'd ruined her.”

“You're talking about Letitia Blake, I presume.” Shane kept his pistol trained on the man. “She's the reason we're here.”

Snorting, he scratched his nose. “She send you? I done told her and her grandpa that we don't want anything to do with those brats.”

Allison found herself hoping Shane's finger would slip on the trigger. Hateful, hateful man.

“Letitia Blake is dead.”

The news didn't evoke sorrow or regret. Gentry's mouth twisted, but he remained silent. Did he possess a heart?

Taking his time holstering his pistol, Shane drawled, “Since the twins are without a mother, you don't mind if Miss Ashworth here takes them in permanently?”

Surprise registered on his face. His eyes narrowed as he took renewed interest in her. Allison returned his gaze and tried not to let her distaste show.

Spitting a stream of tobacco juice on the ground, he said, “Don't matter to me.”

She blinked. It was that easy? He was willing to hand over his grandchildren to a total stranger?

Shane pulled a piece of paper from his duster pocket. “Mind putting that in writing?”

“Can't do that.”

The tension radiating from Shane had his horse prancing to the side. Soothing the animal with a soft command, Shane leveled an impatient stare at Gentry. “Why not?”

“Clyde's the one who has the final say.”

“And where is Clyde?”

“No idea.” His crooked-tooth grin bore the stamp of meanness. “He took off over a week ago. But I'll be sure to tell him you stopped by when I see him.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“T
elling you not to worry won't help, will it?”

Allison followed Shane out of the barn, her mood as bleak as the winter day. Somewhere along the way, she'd lost her holiday spirit. She'd let her problems eclipse the wonder of Christ's birth and the celebration of family and friends.

“You're worried, too,” she responded, looking over at him. “I can see it.”

His brows lifted. “A sheriff doesn't worry.”

“Underneath that badge, Shane Timmons, you're human like the rest of us.”

“Thought I was doing a good job of hiding it,” he muttered, tugging his Stetson lower. “I haven't had much interaction with Clyde,” he said. “Not knowing what to expect from him bothers me.”

“Not knowing when he'll return bothers me.”

They reached the back stoop and the door leading to the kitchen. Shane reached for the knob but didn't turn it. His deep blue gaze roamed her features. “Guess this means you aren't leaving with George.”

“I have no choice but to stay, do I?”

His nearness made her head swim. She didn't have to touch him to know how the light scruff along his jaw would feel beneath her fingertips. They itched to explore the hard planes of his face and smooth texture of his beautiful mouth.

He visibly swallowed. Releasing the knob, he edged closer. “You still angry with me, Allie?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“Maybe a little,” she conceded. “But I understand your reasons.”

During the quiet trek home, her thoughts had turned to Shane's position in the community and the demands placed upon him. He regularly dealt with unsavory characters and challenging situations. When he wasn't risking his life to protect others, he was seeking to solve mysteries or having to restore peace after instances such as a torched Christmas tree.

Placing her hand on his chest, she said softly, “You spend so much of your time fixing other people's problems. Who do you turn to for help? Who listens when you need to talk?”

A furrow appeared between his brows. Undefinable emotion surged in his eyes. “You're the first person to ask me that.”

“It upsets me to think of you shouldering your burdens alone.”

He'd been alone for most of his life. He deserved companionship. More than that, he deserved to experience the give and take of a loving relationship. Allison would give anything to fulfill that role.

Having stuffed his gloves in his pocket while in the barn, he now lifted a bare hand to her cheek. The sensation of his warm, work-roughened hand gingerly scraping across her skin as he curved a stray tendril behind her ear sent a shiver of longing through her. If he tried to kiss her, she wouldn't have the strength to heed common sense.

“I have Josh and his brothers,” he murmured.

“But they have wives and children. Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to have that for yourself?”

His gaze lifted from her mouth to delve into hers. “Allie, I—”

The door swung open, startling them both. George stood there, his expression turning speculative as he took in Shane's proximity to her. “I thought I heard voices out here.”

Pretending nothing was amiss, Allison walked past him into the house. “How is everything?”

George scooted closer to the stove to give Shane room to enter. “Izzy and Charlie are napping. Matilda and Fenton are in the living room playing their third round of checkers.”

Untying her bonnet ribbons, she removed it and set it on a chair. “Did they eat their mashed potatoes?”

He nodded. “And guzzled their milk.” To Shane, he said, “Did you enjoy your ride?”

Shane's hat landed on the tabletop. His blond-streaked hair bore the indentation of the hat. He ran his fingers through it. “It wasn't exactly a pleasure outing.” He addressed Allison. “Do you want to explain or shall I?”

“Go ahead.”

She listened as he relayed the events to George. When he had finished, George folded his arms over his chest and stroked his mustache in a contemplative gesture. “Sounds like a tricky business.” He turned to her. “I'm assuming you're going to stay until it's resolved.”

“You understand, don't you?”

“Of course. Stay as long as you have to. I'll situate things at the office.”

Relief rushed through her. “Thank you, George.”

Matilda entered the dining room and paused on the kitchen's threshold, her big brown eyes fastened on Shane.

He gifted her with a smile. “Hello, Matilda. Who won the game?”

She twisted her fingers together. “Me.”

“Good job.”

“I think Mr. Blake let me win,” she said solemnly.

George made an excuse to slip away, leaving the three of them alone.

Shane pulled out a chair first for Allison, then for the girl. He waved her over. “You sure about that? He hasn't been inclined to let me win.”

When they were all seated, Matilda traced invisible shapes on the polished wood. “You're an adult,” she mumbled. “I'm just a kid.”

“Did you enjoy playing with him?” Allison asked.

“Sure.”

“Then that's all that matters.” She smiled.

Shane nodded his agreement. “I have a little more time before I need to get back to the office. How about you and I play a game?”

“You don't really want to,” she blurted, unhappiness etched onto her features. “You're just putting up with me because there's no one else to do it!”

Scraping her chair back, she raced for the door.

“Matilda!” Allison exclaimed, stunned at her outburst and uncertain how to make things better. She started to rise.

Shane stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “It's okay. I'll talk to her.”

“I'll accompany you if you want.”

His chin was set at a determined angle. “Josh said something not long ago that's beginning to make sense. He said that God might've allowed me to go through what I did so that I could help someone else.”

The similarities between his childhood and hers were clear. “Matilda,” she said.

“Yep.” He strode for the door. “Pray for me?”

“You have my prayers, Shane. Always.”

* * *

He found her out at the fence line using a young dogwood tree as her refuge. “Awful cold to be out here without a coat.”

She didn't acknowledge his presence. Her chin dipped low, her short hair fanned over her nose and cheeks. He hoped she wasn't crying. Slipping off his duster, he draped it around her shoulders. The hem dragged the ground.

“There. That should keep you warm. Just don't try and walk in it.”

Slowly, she lifted her head. In place of tears, he saw apprehension and a hint of suspicion. The man who'd had charge of her had placed that mistrust there.

“You haven't found anyone willing to take me in yet, have you?”

“I'll be honest with you, Matilda. I've spoken to several couples, and two of them are excited to meet you.”

Her jaw went slack.

“The Murrays are in their midfifties. Their kids have all married and moved out of the house, and they're open to the possibility of raising another.” Stepping over to the snake-and-rail fence, he rested his hand on the highest post and gazed out at the green fields with brown patches where the grass had withered. “The Johnsons are in their early forties. They've always wanted children but haven't been blessed with any. I believe you'd be well-treated in either home.”

Matilda didn't speak, probably trying to accept what she'd been so sure couldn't possibly be true.

“There's a third family, friends of mine actually, who have several adopted children. I haven't yet talked to them, but I'm planning on it. The thing is, this isn't a decision that should be rushed. I want the very best for you.”

Holding the sides of his duster together, she shuffled closer. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Shoot.”

“I like living with Miss Allison and the babies. I always thought I'd like a younger brother or sister. With them, I could have both.”

Shane closed his eyes for a brief moment. He'd expected this might happen. “Allison doesn't live here. Her home is in Virginia. When she leaves, she'll take Izzy and Charlie with her.”

Her pointed chin jutted. “I don't mind. I'm sure I'd like it there.” A hint of desperation stole into her eyes. “I can help Miss Allison. I'd do anything she asked.”

“Matilda, it's not as easy or straightforward as you think. I—”

“She'd stay if you married her.” She seized his hand, stunning him into silence. “Then I could live with you, too.”

His heart cracked down the middle. She couldn't know that the idea had crossed his mind. More than once. Risking his happiness, he could do...but theirs? Four people he cared deeply about? It wouldn't be right.

Shane searched his brain for an appropriate response and came up short. What could he say that wouldn't devastate her?

“Allison's life is in Virginia. Mine's here. I'm sorry, Matilda.”

Blinking rapidly, she released his hand and, shrugging out of his duster, thrust it at him.

She pivoted and started marching across the yard.

“We'll figure this out,” he called after her. But by then, she was running for the house, and he wasn't sure if she'd heard him.

* * *

“Are you enjoying the party?” Allison sidled up to George, who'd slipped away from a group of men near the bonfire and was heading for the house.

He smiled down at her, his mustache curving above his mouth. “It's a nice party. Thank you, sis.”

They meandered to the corner closest to the kitchen stoop. Since the house wasn't spacious enough to hold everyone, guests drifted between the inside, close to the food and drink, and the rear yard, where a huge bonfire chased away the night's chill. On the other side of the fire, a group of fiddle and guitar players performed a lilting Christmas melody. Every once in a while, one of them would bring out a harmonica.

Closer to the barn, youngsters jumped rope and engaged in games of hide-and-seek. Most of the adults gathered in clusters to converse, mugs of apple cider or coffee aiding the fire in warming them.

“Gatlinburg has a strong sense of community, doesn't it?” he said. “And the townsfolk admire Shane. He's come so far since those early days. Father would be amazed at what he's accomplished.”

“More importantly, he'd rejoice that Shane has finally accepted that God loves him.”

Allison was thrilled to see the change in his way of thinking, to hear him speak of spiritual matters and pray with confidence.

Searching the crowd for what seemed the hundredth time, she said, “He's still not here.”

“You know he's not all that interested in parties.”

“He promised he'd come.” The night was nearly half-over. She plucked at the wrists of her cranberry-colored dress.

“Maybe he got held up. His job keeps him busy, I'm sure.”

“I hope he hasn't stumbled into trouble. You should hear some of the tales the O'Malleys related to me. He faces danger so often that I worry it's become commonplace. He can't ever truly let his guard down.”

George turned to face her. The dancing flames cast flickering shadows over his round face. “You're still in love with him, aren't you?”

Allison gasped. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“You've been smitten since the moment you laid eyes on him. I suspected he was the reason you dodged interested suitors, but I wasn't entirely sure. That's why I insisted on you coming ahead without me. I thought spending time with him would cure you of your infatuation. I had hoped you'd return to Norfolk having put Shane Timmons out of your head.” He blew out a long breath. “I see now that I was wrong.”

Her mouth worked but no sound came out. There was no use denying it.

“How does he feel about you?” George asked gently.

Chafing her arms, she shook her head and gazed at her boots. “I'm not sure. Whatever he feels isn't strong enough for him to take a chance on us.” Despair invaded her. “Shane has no plans to marry.”

George enveloped her in a hug. “I'm sorry, Allie,” he murmured against her hair. “I truly am.”

“It's not your fault.” Willing away the tears, she wiggled free. She didn't want to arouse the others' curiosity. “I'll have to deal with my dashed hopes later. Right now, I have a party to host.”

“Let's go inside and check on the children, shall we?”

“Last time I saw them, they were being entertained by Caleb's young sister-in-law, Amy, and Megan's daughter, Lillian.”

The warmth inside welcomed them as laughter and a jumble of conversations carried through the house. Allison smiled at the people circled around the dining table. They had a lot to choose from among platters of meats, assorted vegetables, homemade breads and a variety of pies, cookies and cakes.

When she reached the doorway, Caroline noticed and waved from a spot near the fireplace. Sophisticated in a dress of midnight blue overlaid with silver netting, the blonde was in deep conversation with twin sisters Jessica Parker and Jane Leighton. Allison started to join them but was waylaid by a tap on her shoulder.

Turning around, she was surprised to see the handsome deputy. “Ben, I had no idea you'd arrived.”

Did that mean Shane was here, too? Cutting off the questions before they could form on her lips, she pasted on what she hoped was a serene smile. “I'm glad you could make it. Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet.” Green eyes dancing, his wavy auburn locks tamed into submission, he grinned. “I apologize for arriving late. I have a demanding boss.”

Behind her, the main door scraped open. Her skin prickled, and she knew without looking who had entered. Her pulse sped up. Would he come and speak to her right away? Would he avoid her? They hadn't been alone since that charged moment on the stoop. She'd replayed the moment in her mind many times, trying to guess what he'd been about to say.