The Sheriff's Christmas Twins (24 page)

“Lowell's gristmill,” he repeated. “And make sure your good friend the sheriff stays home, you hear?”

Pivoting, he loped toward the woods.

Allison didn't linger to watch him disappear. Upset, she hurried home, needing to see the twins and reassure herself they were okay. Fenton and Matilda looked up in surprise when she burst through the door.

He lumbered up from the sofa. “Everything all right?”

“Yes.” Affecting nonchalance, she deliberately smoothed the folds of her dress. “Everything is peachy. I, uh, was in need of a bit of exercise.” Pointing to the stairs, she said, “The twins asleep?”

Matilda nodded, her gaze bouncing from Allison to Fenton. “I looked in on them five minutes ago.”

Allison rubbed her hands together. “Thank you, Matilda. You're a devoted helper.”

Avoiding Fenton's narrowed gaze, she drifted to the stairs. “Well, I think I'll go and rest a bit, as well.”

She tiptoed into the bedroom she shared with the twins and spent several minutes soaking in their sweet, innocent faces relaxed in sleep. Clyde's threat still rang in her ears. If she didn't do as he wished, he was going to take them away. It was a risk she wasn't willing to take.

Chapter Twenty-Four

T
hree days until Christmas. In a normal year, Allison would be shopping for last-minute gifts and preparing for her trio's annual church performance of assorted carols. The level of excitement in the house would be palpable. The children weren't the only ones impatient for December 25 to arrive. The estate staff looked forward to the presents she and Clarissa chose for them—unique and specific to each person—and spending Christmas Day with their families.

A pang of homesickness hit her. Dismissing it, she finished bundling Izzy and Charlie into their gear and carried them to the living room below.

Fenton reentered the house, his hat low over his eyes and coat collar pulled up to shield his neck.
He could use a new scarf
, she thought inanely.
A useful Christmas gift.

“Sure you don't want me to keep 'em here?”

“They've been cooped up too long.” She fastened her green cloak's buttons with shaky fingers. Perspiration dampened her nape. “The sun's shining, and it's warmer today than it has been. A change of scenery will do them good.”

“I don't mind manning the wagon for ya.”

“I've driven plenty of buggies around Norfolk's busy streets. I can handle these mountain lanes.”

Matilda descended the stairs. In spite of Allison's anxiety, she registered the girl's healthy color and the slight difference in the fullness of her cheeks. Regular meals were doing wonders for her. While her physical condition was improving, the uncertainty of her future meant her emotional state remained fragile. As soon as Allison had handled Clyde—
if
she managed that—she would speak to Shane. Enough delaying. Matilda needed a solution.

“Can I go with you?” She slid the locket between her two fingers back and forth on its chain.

Aware of the mantel clock's ticking, Allison went to her and squeezed her shoulder. “Not this time, sweetie.” Seeing the crestfallen look Matilda tried to hide, she said, “I have an idea. Why don't you and I go to town one afternoon before Christmas?” Bending at the waist, she whispered, “We'll pick out something special for Fenton.”

Interest leaped to life. “And for the sheriff?”

Straightening, she nodded. “Sure.”

She tied her bonnet's strings into a neat bow and scooped Charlie into her arms.

Countless times in the hours since their isolated encounter, she'd considered seeking out Shane. But Clyde had insisted she come alone. No telling how he'd react if she flouted his wishes.

“Would you mind bringing Izzy outside?”

Fenton complied, following her into the yard and placing Izzy in one of the makeshift cradles, long boxes made comfy with a nest of blankets. Allison situated Charlie, leaning down to give him a quick kiss on his velvet-soft cheek. Her throat was so thick she could hardly breathe. What if Clyde decided he wanted them for himself?

In those brief moments in his presence, she'd sensed there was goodness in him not present in his father. Working on a daily basis with people from all sorts of backgrounds had helped her develop discernment. She had to trust he simply wished to see that his children were all right.

Besides, there had to be something redeemable in him if Letty had loved him. She'd sought him out before and after the twins' birth. No way would the young mother have done that if she'd feared for her or her children's safety.

Pulse racing, she rounded the bed and, lodging her boot atop the wheel, climbed onto the seat and gathered the reins.

Fenton bid her goodbye. Matilda emerged from the house and latched on to a porch post. Allison waved and managed a tight smile.

The babies were quiet as the wagon rolled along the lane. Their stomachs full of warm milk and grits, they would likely drift to sleep before she reached the appointed meeting spot.

It wasn't long before the abandoned, overgrown gristmill came into view. At the sight of the lone figure pacing a line into the grass, she started to whip the horses around and flee. Instead, she eased them to a stop and waited.

Muscle jumping in his jaw, Clyde strode forward, hazel gaze wary. “You alone?”

She jerked a nod.

He craned his neck toward the bed. “Are they with you?”

“Yes.”

When he started that way, she scrambled down and blocked his path.

Shame dawned in his green-brown gaze. “You don't trust me. I understand. But I promise I'm not a threat to you or my children. They're my flesh and blood. I'd never hurt them. I simply need to see them. Just once.”

Convinced his earnestness was sincere, Allison stepped aside.

He walked to the rear of the bed. She followed on his heels and was afforded an unobstructed view of the raw emotion passing over Clyde's attractive features. His throat convulsed. Gingerly lifting a still-awake Charlie from his makeshift crib, he tucked him against his chest and peered intently into his face.

“Hey, little man. You look like your momma, you know that?” His voice cracked and, burying his face in Charlie's wispy hair, he exhaled a shuddery breath.

Allison's anxiety diminished. In fact, she felt as if she were intruding on a personal moment between father and son.

“He's a good baby,” she said unnecessarily. “They both are.”

Clyde's eyes were wet when he lifted his head. Reaching out, he fingered one of Izzy's curls. She blinked up at him.

His large, tanned hand anchored Charlie against his chest. Continuing to caress Izzy's hair, he scraped out, “I should've been there for her. For them.”

Allison was quiet. A hawk soared in a circular pattern overhead, its cry shrill. “Why weren't you?”

His features hardened. He started to put Charlie back in his bed. When the baby fussed, Clyde shot her an uneasy glance. “I wanna hold my daughter.”

“Give Charlie to me.” He passed his son awkwardly to her and picked up Izzy. Still too young to be wary of strangers, the infant swatted his cheek with her chubby hand and let loose a stream of gibberish. A rumble of laughter shook his chest. “You take after your momma, don't ya, little one?”

Allison's heart was torn. Anyone could see the man had regrets, and his fascination with his offspring was undeniable. But what did that mean for her and the twins' future? No matter what Shane said, if Clyde truly wanted to raise his children, no judge would deny him that.

“They look healthy,” he said, looking to her for confirmation.

Shifting Charlie onto her other shoulder, she nodded. “They are.”

“You probably won't believe me, but I loved Letty. I wanted to marry her.”

“Based on your behavior, it is difficult to believe.”

His expression could only be described as tormented. “We had no place to go. Her grandpa despised me. And my parents...they never approved of her. They insisted she was trying to trap me. I should've stood up to my pa. If I had a chance to do it over again, I would,” he said fiercely.

Allison reminded herself of his youth. He and Letty had been engaged in a forbidden relationship. Without family support and the means to sustain themselves in the face of an unplanned pregnancy, their options must've seemed nonexistent.

He hugged his daughter closer. “I should've tried harder to convince her to run off with me.”

“You were willing to leave your home?” Shock punched through her. She'd assumed he shared his father's views.

“Wasn't sure how I'd earn enough to support a family, but I knew I wanted to be with her. But she wouldn't leave her grandpa.” Unhappiness tugged at his mouth. “I got angry. I accused her of not loving me enough. We argued, and I told her to leave me alone.”

Hurting for a girl she'd never met, Allison said, “What about when she came to see you after the birth? You refused to even meet the twins.”

“What?” Astonishment mingled with denial. “No. She didn't do that.”

“Fenton told me. He has no reason to lie,” she said gently.

Shaking his head, he put Izzy in her bed and stalked into the field. Ripping off his hat, he put it over his face and suddenly his shoulders were quaking. Tears welled in Allison's eyes. She faced the other direction to give him privacy. Gentry was behind this. He had to be.

Charlie plucked at the cluster of blossoms on her bonnet. Dislodging his fingers, she put his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers. He smiled and babbled. Her heart fissured. There was so much more to this story than she'd imagined. The players were flawed, three-dimensional humans with real feelings. Both Clyde and Letty had made mistakes. Neither were blameless.

Clyde wasn't the evil blackguard she'd made him out to be.

Many minutes passed before his muted sobs ceased. When he returned to the wagon, he refused to meet her gaze. His skin was mottled.

“I've got matters to tend to at home.” His hands balled into fists. “Once that's settled, I'll come to the Wattses'. You and I have decisions to make.”

Momentous, painful decisions. Allison desperately wanted to ask him exactly what he intended to do. She refrained. This wasn't the time.

She prayed he'd visit her soon, because she wasn't sure how long she could wait and wonder and imagine the worst without losing her mind.

* * *

“You're gonna wear a hole in the floor.” Pausing in his Bible reading, one finger marking his spot on the page, Fenton shot Shane a resigned glance.

Matilda sat cross-legged at the foot of the tree, playing with a set of paper cutout dolls she'd crafted from Allison's decorative paper scraps. He'd known something was amiss the moment she entered his office. Matilda didn't like the jail and wouldn't have come unless something big was troubling her. If she hadn't gone outside and seen the wagon turn in the opposite direction of town, he wouldn't have known to be concerned.

He crossed to the window for probably the fiftieth time. “If she's not home in ten minutes, I'm going to ride through these mountains and knock on every single door until I find her.”

Starting with the Whitakers. His well-honed instincts told him Gentry or Clyde had something to do with her prolonged absence. What other reason would she have had to mislead Fenton and Matilda?

Staring out at the desolate landscape, he worked to contain the fear eroding his composure. Panic was there beneath the fear, waiting for him to weaken. He'd dealt with thieves, kidnappers and murderers. He'd even come close to meeting his Maker a time or two. None of that compared to what he was experiencing now. This past hour had been the longest of his life. If anything happened to her—

He bowed his head, his fingers digging into the windowsill.
I love her, God. So much that it hurts to look at her sometimes. I beg You to preserve her life. Keep her safe. Keep the twins from harm.

Pivoting, he strode for his duster and Stetson. “I can't wait around any longer.”

“How do you know where to start?”

“Gentry's will be my first stop.” Anything was better than staying here and allowing his mind to catalog every single scenario.

“Maybe you should take your deputy with you.”

“No time.”

Temperatures in the high forties swirled around him as he pulled open the door. A blue jay fluttered into flight, taking refuge in the maple's high branches. The indistinct jingle of harnesses stopped him in his tracks. Squinting down the lane, he waited, heart hammering out an impatient rhythm.
Please be her. Please
—

At long last, the team and wagon came into view. Calling the news to Fenton, he bounded into the yard, his gaze pinned to the woman whose well-being meant more to him than his own life.

Beneath her bonnet's brim, Allison's features were drawn and pale. The evidence of her tears tightened his gut. She looked extremely fragile, an unusual sight that filled him with foreboding. As soon as she guided the team to a stop, he inspected the wagon's rear space, his shoulders loosening at the sight of the sleeping infants.

Helping her down, he asked Fenton and Matilda to carry the children inside. “Allison and I are going for a short stroll,” he murmured to the older man. “We'll be inside in a few minutes.”

“Take all the time you need.” Fenton's concerned gray gaze tracked Allison, who hadn't uttered a single word.

Wrapping his arm protectively around her waist, he guided her to the side of the house.

“I know you're angry with me.” She turned toward him, eyes shimmering with emotion. “I can't bear it right this minute, Shane—”

“Shh.” Urging her against him, he traced her quivering lips with his finger. “Sweetheart, angry is the last thing I'm feeling.”

He brushed her inviting mouth with his and exhaled soul-deep relief. Allie was safe and sound in his arms.
Safe.
That's all he could focus on for several long moments. Then he registered her arms snaking around his neck, her fingers knocking his hat to the ground and whispering through his hair, the extraordinary sweetness of her kiss as she wriggled closer.

Joy exploded in his chest. What he felt for her was unlike anything he'd ever known...innocent and hopeful and noble. This love made him forget, if only for a little while, the nightmares dominating his past.

He skimmed her spine in search of the stray tendrils along her nape. If he had his way, he'd untie the ribbons beneath her chin and expose her flaxen hair to his exploration. But it was cold. And he needed to find out what had transpired to upset her so.

Trailing his fingers beneath her ears, over the ribbons and along her cheekbones, he registered her shiver as he eased the kiss to lingering, featherlight sweeps against her lips.

She murmured his name before lifting her head. Her happy gaze was tempered with a hint of perplexity. Wasn't hard to guess that she was searching for an indication from him that this embrace was significant, that it meant he had forever on his mind.