The two of them had made quite a sensation in the morning edition of the paper. Especially Sparky. A special paragraph was devoted to his role in capturing Paula Felton. They had even managed to use special lighting to photograph him, revealing the glow-in-the-dark paint Will Perry’s grandsons had painted on his horns, face, and front legs.
“We’re the top news story of the year!” Maddie had crowed when she phoned Libby earlier. “The editor says everybody wants to see me and Sparky. It’s a shame you can’t see his green paint in the daylight.”
Libby shared her sentiments as she waved to Maddie from behind the float. Still, the crowd seemed excited about the mischievous goat, previously only known for ripping up gardens and devouring rose bushes.
Jackson, astride his own horse, rode up beside her, his glance taking in the float just ahead. “You think being a celebrity will go to her head?”
Libby laughed. “I hope so. She’s having a lot of fun. The editor has asked her to write her own story about everything that she saw.”
“Without her report, we probably wouldn’t have recovered that money.” He grinned and tossed a handful of candy to a group of boys. “She’ll be signing autographs, next.”
“It’s the best thing that could happen to her,” Libby agreed, switching her reins to the other hand.
“Hey, Sheriff Carter!” A voice called. Jackson turned and waved to the next float in line.
“Guess I’ll go see what they want,” he said, but he didn’t turn back. Did she detect a tone of reluctance in his voice? “By the way, I thought you ought to know, I’ve decided to take your advice.”
Libby turned, flashing her parade smile. “Advice?”
He nodded. “You know. What we talked about last night in the cemetery.”
Her heart trembled in her chest as he moved his horse nearer Scout. “You said it was the right thing for me to do,” he reminded her, softly. “I did some praying on it, and I think you’re right.”
Her voice faltered. “Oh.”
“You do still think it’s what I ought to do, don’t you?”
Her throat closed, and she nodded. Hot tears flooded her eyes. Was she ready for the possibility his heart belonged to someone else?
“Wait for me after the parade.” And then he was gone.
****
The community Christmas party was in high gear when Libby made her way into the area set aside for judging crafts and baked goods during the county fair. A huge Christmas tree blinked red and gold on the stage at the end of the room. A local band was situated in front of it, playing a western swing version of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” In the corner, logs in the large wood stove blazed merrily, encouraging the crowd to shed their coats and jackets.
Libby waved across the room to Dana Lewis, steering her two little cowboys towards Santa, who was busy handing out candy, apples, and oranges from his overloaded bag. A line of happy children playfully teased and shoved each other as they waited for their special moment with the man in red.
She spotted Jackson, a cup of punch in his hand, talking to the mayor. He looked up and sent a wink her way. Her heart cart-wheeled into her stomach. For a moment, the years between them melted away, and they were the same teenage couple they’d been over a decade ago. Her heart was his...if he still wanted it.
He left the mayor and walked towards her. “I’ve been looking for you.” His eyes searched her face as he took her hand. “You look a little pale. Are you OK?”
Heat rose to her cheeks as she met his smoky gaze. She nodded. “I’m fine.” The rest of the words stuck in her throat.
He glanced around the room. “How about taking a short ride with me?”
Libby glanced around the room. “Now?”
“Yeah. Just a short one.”
Outside, her breath caught as the cold breeze struck her face, cooling her heated cheeks. Another frigid night was setting in. The clouds had cleared, and stars shone bright above them. The band started up “The Twelve Days of Christmas” just as the door swung shut behind them.
Jackson let out a whistle. “Look at that ring around the moon. Maybe it means we’ll have a white Christmas this year.”
Surely, he didn’t ask her out here to talk about snow. “Jackson—”
“C’mon, let’s go.” He grabbed her hand, and she willingly followed him to the truck.
****
She reached across the cab and turned up the heat. Jackson rolled down his window. “I remember this scenario,” she laughed.
“You know what they say about opposites,” he teased, taking a right on Clayton Road. A half mile later, he pulled over, just short of the old metal bridge, turning the truck at an angle.
The headlights shone brightly on the structure, and Libby stared at the mass of graffiti covering the rusty panels. Much had been added since their teenage years. After a moment, she picked out Jackson Loves Libby. He’d hurriedly painted it one night when he was seventeen. A truck had sounded in the distance before he’d had time to paint the date beside his act of vandalism.
“I never did get that finished,” he said, reaching in front of her and opening the glove compartment. He took out a can of spray paint.
Libby gasped. “Jackson! You’re the sheriff. What are you doing?”
He grinned and opened the truck door. “You’ll see.”
She was out in an instant and hurried after him. “It’s just the date. Forget it.”
He put the toe of his boot on an old rung and pulled himself up level with the letters and began to spray. Libby stepped back and hugged herself against the breeze. The road was empty and quiet behind them, but what would someone say if they caught the sheriff? She gave an involuntary jump when a horn honked somewhere in the distance.
“Hurry...” she gazed upward and stared. There was no date sprayed beside their names. Instead, it read Jackson Loves Libby Forever.
He jumped down from his perch on the railing and observed his artwork. He turned to her. “What do you think?”
Words scrambled and jammed in her throat. It was true. He loved her. He really did still love her.
He dropped the paint can and pulled her towards him, drawing her close, his arms warm around her. “You know, I’ve spent a couple of years wondering just why God wanted me back here.” His eyes drifted to the words and then back to her. “And then you showed up.”
Her heart thudded against her chest as he drew his finger along her cheek and under her chin. He kissed her forehead...and her nose...and finally her lips. His mouth was sweet and gentle, teasing her stampeding heart.
When he drew away, his lips curved into a soft smile as his fingertips caressed her cheek. “I’ve spent too many years without you, Libby. If you’ll give me another chance, I’ll prove how much I love you.”
Hot tears splashed down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around his neck in a moment. “I think we both need that second chance.”
“Merry Christmas, Libby.” He pressed his lips to hers once again.
Thank you for purchasing this White Rose Publishing title. For other inspirational stories, please visit our on-line bookstore at www.pelicanbookgroup.com.
For questions or more information, contact us at [email protected].
White Rose Publishing
Where Faith is the Cornerstone of Love™
www.WhiteRosePublishing.com
an imprint of Pelican Ventures Book Group
www.PelicanBookGroup.com
May God’s glory shine through
this inspirational work of fiction.
AMDG
ayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share
Christmas in Coyote County Page 7
