Her Christmas Protector

by Terri Reed

  To Faith, Luke said, “If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs in the office. First door on your right at the bottom of the stairs.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” He ran a hand over his short hair and for a moment just stood there staring at her.

  Faith raised a questioning brow.

  “See you later.” He smiled before sauntering from the room.

  “That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen from Luke since he’s come home.”

  “Come home?” Faith asked, still staring at the spot where he’d disappeared through the door, feeling a little unsettled.

  “Luke’s a captain in the army,” Dottie announced with obvious pride in her son.

  “Right.” Faith smiled at Dottie.

  Dottie continued, “He graduated top of his class at West Point. I’m very proud of my son. He followed his dreams.”

  West Point. Impressive. “I’m…familiar with the school. My grandfather’s house sat on the opposite bank of the Hudson River. From the top-floor window we could see part of the academy. Had I been born a boy, my grandfather would have insisted I attend West Point rather than my mother’s alma mater, Cornell.”

  “I’m sure your grandfather was very proud of you. Blake didn’t want Luke to go. It caused a rift in their relationship for years.”

  “That’s too bad.” Faith hoped the rift had been mended before Blake’s death, but she thought it tactless to ask.

  As if reading her unspoken thought, Dottie said, “Luckily they patched things up between them a few years ago. Blake was very proud of Luke, too.”

  “Was Luke able to see his father before he passed on?” Faith asked gently.

  “Yes, thankfully.” Her expression became troubled. “He wasn’t supposed to stay this long but…I had my attack and…well, Blake’s health had deteriorated over the last couple of years, so the ranch had been neglected for the most part.”

  Dottie paused to take a deep breath. “The hands that stayed on have kept things going, but it was Blake who made sure the upkeep and repairs were taken care of. Dear Blake just couldn’t give up control. Not even when it became impossible for him to do more than sit and watch.”

  Compassion filled Faith. From her own experience with caring for her grandfather she knew how hard it was to watch someone you love die. Especially when that person was as strong-willed as her grandfather had been, and as Blake must have been. Faith held the older woman’s hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, dear. I take comfort in knowing Blake’s with Jesus and someday we will be together again.”

  Conviction shone bright in Dottie’s blue eyes, like beacons of light directing the way.

  Faith blinked back sudden tears. She wished desperately that she could be as assured of her own place in heaven and to be reunited with her family. But why would God take her to live with Him when He’d shown no interest in her on earth?

  Dottie gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Are you feeling okay?”

  Faith cleared her throat before speaking. “Yes. Fine, thank you.”

  “You must forgive me if I tend to rattle on.”

  Thinking it infinitely better for Dottie to talk, she said, “Oh, please. Rattle all you’d like.”

  And she did. For Faith, the next couple of hours were a breath of fresh air. They discovered many common interests such as antiques, art, theater and cooking. And Faith was more than happy to exhaust all subjects except the topic of her own life. Soon Dottie was yawning and her eyelids drooping.

  “Goodness, I don’t think I’ve had this much to talk about in years.” Dottie beamed as Faith helped her settle back into a reclined position.

  “Nor have I.” Faith fluffed the pillows beneath Dottie’s head. “You need some rest now. I’ll come back later and we can pick up where we left off.”

  Dottie’s eyes were already closed. Unsure what she should do now, Faith wandered over to a window and stood gazing out at the expanse of land that made up the Circle C Ranch. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she’d find sanctuary in the home of a cowboy.

  Could it be possible that God was watching out for her after all?

  THREE

  “Have you found her?”

  Vince glared with loathing at his older brother, Anthony, slouched in the leather chair facing Vince’s desk. He looked awful. Like he hadn’t showered or shaved in weeks. His hair was too long and his clothes ratty. Vince struggled to understand how they’d come from the same gene pool. “Not yet. I can’t believe your stupidity.”

  “How was I supposed to know she’d divorce you and take off? I mean, what did you do to her anyway?”

  Vince curled his fingers into a fist. “Nothing.”

  “Something,” Anthony shot back.

  Ignoring the barb, Vince asked, “What did you tell Fernando?”

  “What you told me to. He said he’d wait until New Year’s Day. If we don’t return the money, he’ll kill us.”

  Vince spread his hand on the desk and leaned forward. “He can kill you with my blessing.”

  Anthony’s dark eyes held malice. “Just remember what I did for you.”

  Vince swore and moved to the window.

  They’d been teens, running with the other punks in the neighborhood, dealing dope, stealing what they could just for something to do. One night they’d knocked off a liquor store, but before they could get away, a cop showed up and caught Anthony. He’d gone to jail and never ratted on his baby brother.

  Anthony never let Vince forget that if he’d had a rap sheet, he wouldn’t have been admitted into law school.

  But after twenty years, that card was wearing thin.

  “I’ll find her and get your money.” Vince turned toward his brother. “And then we’re even.”

  Anthony stood and walked to the door, his tennis shoes leaving smudged tracks in the cream-colored carpet. “Yeah, whatever you say.”

  After he left, Vince picked up the picture of his wife. “I will find you. And you will never leave me again.”

  Luke couldn’t concentrate.

  Every time he tried to focus on the paperwork lying on the desk, his mind conjured up the image of a cat-eyed blonde. Once again his curious nature wanted to know what was going on with Faith Delange.

  He shouldn’t be spending time thinking about Faith. There was still so much to do on the ranch. He’d lost two hands last week because they’d wanted to find a warmer place for the winter. His foreman, Leo Scruggs, was having a hard time finding replacements. The roof on the house and one of the barns needed fixing and a llama would be birthing soon.

  Ever since he’d returned to the ranch, his life hadn’t been his own. Every day he found himself becoming more like his father. And the more he enjoyed being a rancher, the more scared he became.

  This wasn’t the life he’d wanted. He’d wanted excitement and adventure. At eighteen, he’d taken his desires to the Lord and had been steered toward the military. Knowing he’d had God’s blessing, Luke had applied and been accepted at West Point. The years there were grueling, exciting and character building. He’d walked away with a degree in engineering. But the military still beckoned, even after his five-year service obligation.

  Now, he held the rank of captain and his position of authority gave him more opportunity to make a difference in the lives of his men. From the beginning, he’d felt he’d been called to share his faith with his comrades, and now Luke was looked to as a source of comfort and hope.

  He’d worked alongside the chaplain to form a Bible fellowship study, and he was constantly awed by the power of Jesus’s love working in the men’s lives. He didn’t want to give that up.

  He wished his father were still here.

  Luke hadn’t known about his father’s cancer until nearly the end.

  Your father is ill, the note had read, come home.

  He’d arrived just in time to see his father before he’d died. Guilt for not having been there ate away
at him. If he’d only been a better son and kept in better touch. He’d have learned of the illness sooner and come home. He’d have been able to make his dad’s final days easier.

  And now, Luke was running his father’s ranch and dragging his feet about leaving when all he really wanted was to get back to his own life, his unit stationed in the Middle East. He only had another twenty days of leave left.

  He fired up the computer and looked up Faith on Google. A list of articles came up. Mostly charity events where Faith and her grandfather were present. One photo showed Faith in a gray business suit standing beside her grandfather who sat in a wheelchair. He was old and hunched with strong features. The caption read, “The Delanges to start a foundation for overseas missions through a local church.”

  Philanthropy, faith, family and money. What was she running from?

  A soft knock sounded on the door.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened and Faith stepped in. He clicked off the web page.

  “I don’t mean to bother you. But…well, your mother’s asleep and I don’t know what I should be doing.”

  Luke hadn’t the foggiest what she should be doing now, either.

  She smiled uncertainly.

  Luke stood and moved around the desk. “I’ll show you to your room.”

  Faith followed him. “I think this place is wonderful. So warm and cozy.”

  “My parents have lived here since they were married. I don’t think Mom has bought anything new since.”

  Faith stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Her finger traced a carving in the banister.

  “Did that when I was ten. Dad just about blew a gasket.” He laughed slightly. “I can still remember how he lit into me, saying, ‘If you want to carve your name into a piece of wood, there’s a whole stack of firewood out back that you can carve up after you split it all.’”

  “He sounds like he was a good father.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, he was. Strict, but always fair. Even when we didn’t see eye to eye, I never questioned his love.”

  But his father had questioned his son’s love. How many times had Luke turned his back on the advice and instruction his dad offered? Luke would give anything to have that time back, to show his dad how much he loved him.

  “That’s wonderful,” she stated, wistfully.

  “Did you question your parents’ love?” he asked.

  Sadness entered her gaze. “My parents were killed when I was eleven.”

  “That must have been tough. Who raised you?”

  “My grandfather.”

  “The one that had a heart attack?”

  She nodded. “He passed on almost two years ago.”

  “Have you been traveling since then?”

  Her expression became guarded. Wary. “No.”

  She moved away from him to stand beside her suitcases where he’d left them in the entryway.

  As she bent to pick them up, he said, “Here. Allow me.”

  Taking her bags in hand, he led her upstairs, entered the sewing room and breathed in the scent of gardenias, his mother’s favorites, perfuming the air. A dried bouquet of the white blossoms sat atop the dresser. He made a mental note to order fresh ones.

  “This is lovely.” Faith walked in and surveyed the room. She gently brushed a hand along the black sewing machine resting on an old wooden table. “Your mother’s, I assume.”

  “Yes, Mom loves to sew. She’s made most of her own clothes for years.” Luke could remember wanting her to go shopping like other mothers, but Dottie had always been a frugal woman who insisted her own creations were as good as those found in some over-priced dress shop.

  “I like your mother. She’s nice.”

  “Thanks. She likes you, too.” Luke was thankful for that. It would make leaving that much easier.

  Walking to the closet door, he put his hand on the knob. “Here’s a closet. It’s yours to use and you can clear out the drawers in the dresser.”

  “Thank you. You’ve been so kind.”

  He acknowledged her gratefulness with a nod. “My room’s next door and the bath is across the hall.”

  Faith blinked and asked, “Where does Reva sleep?”

  “She has her own house to go to.” Thankfully.

  “Besides caring for your mother, is there anything else I can do?”

  “You can relax.” He thought back to her strange behavior on the way to the ranch and his observation that she didn’t want to be seen. “Maybe you should tell me what you’re running from?”

  Her eyes got big. “I’m…I don’t know what you mean?”

  “Faith, it was obvious you didn’t want anyone to see you leave with me. Why?”

  She looked at her hands. They were shaking. He took them in his, noticing how slender and vulnerable she felt. “Tell me this. Are you in trouble with the law?”

  She lifted her head. “No.”

  He could see the truth in her gaze. “Okay. I’ll stop pushing for now. But, Faith, if you need to talk, I’m here. You can trust me.”

  Faith nodded, her expression unreadable. “I’ll go check on Dottie.”

  The second she left the room, Luke dropped his head on the doorjamb. Great. Now he was offering to be there for her when he knew he would be leaving soon. He shouldn’t let himself get tangled up with her. As along as she posed no threat to his mother. He wasn’t going to get involved.

  He just had to stay strong, remember his goals, and not let himself get diverted from his path. Pushing away from the door, he headed out to visit the llamas and to let God know just how much he needed His strength.

  After making sure Dottie was comfortably settled for the night, Faith went back to her room. She sat on the bed, elbows propped on her knees and her chin resting in her palm. The afternoon had flown by as she and Dottie talked. There hadn’t been any sign of Luke, not until dinnertime. He’d come upstairs carrying two plates heaping with a delicious-smelling rice-and-chicken casserole, which she assumed Reva had cooked.

  When Dottie had asked why he wasn’t eating with them, Faith noticed he’d glanced at her before saying he was going to eat in his office while finishing up some work. She’d been able to eat very little of the meal.

  Had she made him rethink hiring her? She hadn’t meant to be so obvious in the car. But the fewer people who knew where she was the longer she’d be safe. And the longer she’d be able to stay.

  She finished unpacking and was about to crawl into bed when she heard the creak of floorboards outside her door.

  Old fears surged, her muscles tensed. Was someone coming for her? Would someone bust through the door?

  No! She was safe. It was only Luke going to his room.

  Ugh! She couldn’t jump at every sound. She’d drive herself nuts for sure doing that.

  When the house finally grew quiet and still, she turned off the light. As tired as she was, it would be a long while before she could banish the awareness of the cowboy down the hall.

  Early morning sun streamed through the barn windows, casting long, bright rays over the horses and the stacks of hay. The smell of the animals mingled with the hay.

  Luke rested his hands on the pitchfork. Every morning he came out to the barn and fed the horses. He could assign the job to one of the hands, but the chore had been his when he was younger and somehow the task helped to relieve his grief over his father’s passing. Hard physical labor helped get him through the worst of the pain.

  When he’d first arrived, his father had barely been alive. If only he’d come home earlier, Luke thought for the millionth time as he pitched hay into the first stall. Those last few hours together hadn’t been enough time to say all the things Luke had wanted to say. He hadn’t told his father how much he admired him or how grateful he was to have had him as a father. Luke would always regret the years apart. The years of silence.

  Once the funeral was over, Luke had harnessed his energies to the ranch. Luke started the re-fence on the entire acreage, started repai
rs on the barn and the corral. Chores that should have been taken care of long ago.

  His next project, he decided, would be the main house. It needed a new roof and the porch could stand some work. Staring at the structure through the double doors of the barn, he pictured a swing on the front porch. His mother would like that. Luke shook his head in wry amusement. He shouldn’t be looking for more reasons to stay.

  His unit needed him.

  It was past time for him to wrap things up on the ranch so he could leave right after Christmas. He could hire out the work that needed to be done. And for sure hire some more hands to replace the two that had left. His foreman needed a vacation, as well.

  The burden of responsibility made Luke’s shoulders ache.

  At least he’d done something right by hiring Faith. For the past three days she’d been a constant companion to his mother. When he left he would be assured that his mom would be in good hands.

  He picked up more hay with the pitchfork just as Faith stepped out onto the porch into the sunshine. He took a deep breath and enjoyed the view, noticing the way winter sunlight danced off her golden hair, reminding him of Christmas lights. Bright and shining. Beautiful.

  Her light wool coat, buttoned to the top, looked warm, but wouldn’t hold up once it snowed again. She wrapped slender hands around a steaming mug and walked to the porch railing. Leaning her hips against the wood, she stared out at the scenery and sipped from the cup.

  Luke knew what she was seeing; he’d stood in the exact spot too many times to count. From that vantage point, one could view the cattle grazing and the Three Sisters Mountains—Faith, Hope and Charity—rising majestically in the distance.

  Studying Faith’s profile, he wondered, what’s your story? A part of him wanted to delve deep and find out what she was hiding from. But he’d already decided he wasn’t going to get any more deeply involved.

  Faith turned her head toward the barn and Luke knew the exact moment she saw him. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and her generous mouth curved upward into a stunning smile. His pulse quickened. For a heartbeat, Luke almost convinced himself she was glad to see him.