by Marta Perry
“I won’t fall,” she said, maybe to reassure herself.
“No, you won’t. Dolly’s been doing this for years, I bet, and she knows exactly what she’s doing. Right, Casey?”
“Right.” Casey tossed a smile back over her shoulder at the child. With her silky red hair cut in the latest style and her pert, pretty face, she looked as if she ought to be at cheerleading practice instead of tramping around a soggy field, but here she was.
They made a slow circuit of the paddock and then another one. He could feel Mandie relaxing, although she had to have been getting tired, judging by her grip on the saddle.
Now what? Annabel hadn’t told him how long the child could or should do this.
“What do you think, Mandie? Are you up for one more time around today?” Casey came to his rescue.
Mandie’s thin hands tightened, and she jerked a nod. They set off on a third circuit. He could feel the child’s exhaustion now as she leaned against his arm, and he gripped her more firmly.
“Doing great, Mandie. We’re almost there. You can do it.” He leaned closer to the pony, trying to give the child as much security as possible. A flash of concern went through him. If this was too much for her…
But she hung on, and when they reached the starting point she gave him a broad grin. Casey and her mother broke into applause as Travis lifted her back into the chair.
“See that? You did it. Dolly would clap if she could. Give me five.” He held his palm close to her hand.
The tap of her hand nearly missed, but her grin more than made up for it, and the lump in his throat was so huge that he couldn’t have said another thing.
“Great job, Mandie.”
He hadn’t heard Annabel approach; he’d been so focused on the child, but there she was. “One of the barn cats just brought her new kittens out. Would you like to see them?”
Mandie nodded, her small face beaming, and her mother turned the chair.
“Bless you,” the mother said softly, glancing at him as she wheeled the chair away.
He glanced at Annabel. “I take back any doubts I had. That’s definitely worth it.”
Annabel’s blue eyes were bright with tears despite her smile. “It is. She’s a brave little kid.” She shook her head slightly. “Well, don’t get too soft, because next comes a test of your patience.”
“Not the terrible twosome,” Casey said.
“Not only that but we’ve got a third today.” Annabel nodded toward three boys who were being shepherded toward them by another of the helpers. “Todd, Charlie and the new one is Kyle. Behavioral problems. They need firm control, or they’ll create havoc.” She gave Travis an assessing look. “You ought to be good at that. Use your officer voice.”
“I’ll try.” What kind of behavior problems, he wanted to ask, but Annabel was already striding off, her long braid swinging. He sent a glance at Casey, and she shrugged.
“They’re not mean,” she said. “Just…active. Very, very active.”
He soon saw what she meant. With Kyle on the pony, now on a long lead line walking a circle around Casey, Todd and Charlie apparently were intent on seeing who could annoy him the most. He snatched Charlie from balancing on the top rail of the paddock fence, only to discover that Todd was entangled in brambles and wailing that his mother would kill him if he tore his new shirt. Releasing the boy at the cost of a few scratches to his own hands, Travis turned to discover that Charlie emptied his backpack in search of something, allowing paper to flutter across the grass.
Travis, gritting his teeth, grabbed both of them and marched them to the fence. Annabel had been right—this did require a firm hand.
“Anyone who is not on the pony will police the area. You and you—” he pointed to them “—pick up every scrap of paper between the paddock and the lane or no riding. That’s an order.”
Apparently intimidated by his tone, they nodded and bent to the task.
Had he been too sharp? Maybe not, judging by their expressions when they came back to him.
“All done, sir.” Charlie stood up very straight, as if standing for inspection.
He took his time, looking over what they’d done and then gave them an approving nod. “Good work, men. Now it’s Charlie’s turn on the pony.”
They took turns riding. Kyle, who was apparently the new kid, seemed to fit in all right. He even lost his sullen expression a time or two while he was riding.
The session was finally over, and the three boys headed toward the barn without arguing.
“Good job,” Casey said to him. “They have to groom the pony now. I can get them started on that if you need a break.”
Maybe she’d noticed the fact that his eyes had been drawn to the nearest pasture, where Annabel was introducing several children to the smallest of the goats. He stood watching for a moment. Gentleness seemed to flow through her every movement, expressing itself in her quiet voice and soft smile. If this was really Peaceable Farm, it struck him that the peace started with Annabel.
A shout from the barn jerked his attention away from her. He ran toward the sound, into the barn, taking precious seconds as his eyes adjusted to the dimness after the bright sunlight.
Kyle and Charlie were battling each other, landing ineffectual punches that probably didn’t hurt them much. Still, the ferocity on their faces was alarming. Todd stood back, looking scared, and Casey tried to keep the two boys away from Dolly’s hooves.
Travis waded in, grabbing the combatants by the collars and yanking them to their feet.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded.
“Kyle wouldn’t let me have a turn.” Charlie’s red face slowly returned to a normal color under Travis’s stern gaze. “And then he punched me and knocked me down.”
Travis glanced at Casey, who nodded, agreeing with that assessment.
Releasing Charlie, he turned to Kyle. “What do you say, Kyle? That how it went down?”
Kyle’s face set in stubborn lines. He jerked away from Travis, his hands doubled into fists. He didn’t strike out. He stood, tension in every line of his small body, and for a moment, there was an expression in his eyes that made Travis’s stomach twist.
It didn’t take much. Just the smallest leap of imagination could put Travis into that kid’s body, looking that way. Tense. Ready for what was coming. Knowing it would be a blow.
Chapter Four
“Look, look at the carolers!” Lindsay leaned forward as far as her seat belt would allow in the backseat of Annabel’s car. “Look, cousin Annabel!”
“I see them.” Annabel slowed the car still more and ex changed a smile with Travis.
The carolers, like all the displays at the James Island Christmas Festival, had been created from colored lights—thousands of lights, turning the park into a magical celebration of Christmas in the early evening dark.
“I can’t see, cousin Annabel. I’m on the wrong side.” Jamie’s complaint was an echo of things she’d said herself as a child, packed into the car with her three siblings.
“The next one’s on your side,” Travis pointed out. “Look. What is it?”
Diverted, both children craned toward the windows, ex changing guesses as the next display came into view.
“Good job averting a battle,” she murmured to Travis. “You’re not bad with kids.”
He shook his head. “I have to say, this display is awesome. They do this every year?”
“Every year since I can remember. It’s a holiday tradition.”
And it was one she hadn’t shared with Foster. Her former fiancé had enjoyed the holiday social whirl, but for him, that hadn’t included something as simple as a drive through the park to admire the lights. Doing it now seemed to take some of the sting of memories away. Her plan to keep herself busy with Travis’s entertainment was working.
She glanced at Travis. He’d swung around to look toward the kids in the backseat, putting his hand on the back of her seat and bringing his face closer to hers. H
e was explaining how one of the lighting effects had been achieved, answering Jamie’s questions with the same patience he’d shown when he took Mandie on the pony.
He was one of the good guys. Her heart twisted a little. Maybe she wasn’t being entirely fair, using him to help her get through the holiday season.
Still, Travis didn’t know that her motives for doing this were mixed. And Luke had asked her to entertain him. So what harm did it do?
She glanced at her watch as she pulled into the parking lot. “Okay, kids, it’s almost time for the bonfire and stories. Then we’ll see the rest of the lights.”
“Will there be hot chocolate?” Lindsay asked. “My mamma said there would.”
“I’m sure there will be.” She unlatched her seat belt. “Let’s see if we can find it.”
They ushered the kids quickly from the parking lot and started down the path that led to the bonfire area. Lindsay and Jamie hurried ahead, holding hands, and Travis walked with her, his eyes on the kids.
“Looks like Jamie’s limping a little.” His voice expressed concern. “He didn’t get hurt getting out of the car, did he?”
“Jamie had some congenital birth defects. He’s had a rough time of it, poor little guy. But he had his last surgery a few months ago, and they say he’s going to be absolutely fine.” Her heart clenched at the memory of how they’d all prayed their way through that operation. “It’s going to be a happy Christmas for them—maybe the best in a long time.”
“Sounds like he’s had a rough time of it.” Travis frowned slightly. “I’m surprised their folks were willing to let us bring them tonight. I’d think they would want to do it themselves.”
“Oh, they will. No one is content to see the lights just once.” Travis didn’t need to know that she’d used him as an excuse to borrow the children for the evening.
They’d reached the bonfire circle, and for a few moments, she was totally occupied in getting the kids their cookies and hot chocolate and finding seats where a costumed storyteller waited to entertain them.
When she rejoined Travis, who stood waiting at the edge of the circle of light cast by the bonfire, he handed her a cup of hot chocolate. “I figured you weren’t too old to enjoy this, too.”
She wrapped her hands around the cup and inhaled the sweet aroma. “No way. I’m never going to outgrow some things, and hot chocolate with marshmallows on a chilly night is one of them.”
“Chilly,” he repeated, a laugh in his voice. “This is downright balmy, if you ask me.”
“Only if you just arrived from Alaska,” she retorted. “Down here if it drops below sixty we haul out the heavy jackets.”
He nodded, smiling, but she had a sense that his mind was on something other than the light teasing. “I guess you can work with the kids all winter, then.”
“Pretty much. Last year I had to cancel a few sessions when it was cold and wet, but for the most part, we go ahead with it.”
He was silent for a moment. What was he thinking that carved those deep lines in his forehead? She’d been congratulating herself that he’d gotten over his qualms about her program, but maybe he hadn’t.
“Is something wrong?” She asked the question, not sure she wanted an answer.
His strong jaw seemed to harden. “That kid, Kyle. What’s his story?”
“Kyle Morrison? I don’t know much yet. That was his first session with us. Pastor Tim referred him.”
“You must know something.” His gaze probed her face, as if he looked for answers.
She wouldn’t share anything confidential with Travis, of course, but if he were to help with the kids, he had to be told something. And the truth of it was that she didn’t know much to tell—not yet.
“Pastor Tim asked me to take him. They’re members of our church, and Pastor Tim is counseling them. Kyle has been having problems at school, and he’s run away twice. I don’t think it’s anything too serious. His dad travels a lot on business, and I wondered if Kyle might be trying to get his attention.”
Travis crumpled his cup and tossed it into the nearest trash can. He turned to her, his expression uncompromising. “I think the kid is being abused.”
For a moment, she could only gape at him. “Abused? But…there’s never been any suggestion of that. Pastor Tim would have the authorities involved in a split second if he had any reason to suspect it. Really, Travis, I can’t believe that.”
“Can’t?” He spit out the word. “Or won’t? Are you sure you’re not affected by the fact that they’re members of your church?”
“I’m not that naive.” She glared back at him, careful to keep her voice low. “I’m the one who has been working with these kids, remember? Do you think I don’t know that abuse spans every segment of society? Of course it’s possible, but there hasn’t been any hint of that.”
“I hope you’re right.” But his tone sounded as if he thought she was wrong. “I’d just like to know if Kyle’s bad times happen to coincide with when his father comes back from his trips.”
Travis really ought to stay away from Annabel Bodine, given the fact that every time he was near her, he said more than he should. But here he was, helping her to decorate her parents’ boat for something called a Christmas Boat Parade.
From his perch in the prow of the cabin cruiser, where he was fastening a string of lights, he had a good view of Annabel. She sat on the deck, engaged in untangling a bird’s nest of lights. Seeming to feel his gaze on her, she looked up and smiled.
That smile was enough to set off warning bells in his heart. He couldn’t even kid himself that he was hanging out with Annabel because of his promise to his buddy. Something about her drew him, as if that warmth of hers reached out and latched on to his heart.
Giving in to the feeling would be a mistake. He knew that, didn’t he? He drove a staple into place with a little-more-than-necessary energy.
“I declare, if I knew who put these lights away in such a mess, I’d give them a piece of my mind.” Annabel began coiling the string she’d been working on. “Hugh Bodine, are you responsible for this?” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the Christmas carols Hugh had been playing.
“What?” Hugh popped his head up from where he lay, trying to hook up some speakers. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”
Travis couldn’t help but smile. “That was the right answer, even if he didn’t hear the question.”
“As if he’d admit it,” she said. “He and Luke always blamed each other for anything that went wrong.”
“So tell me about this boat parade,” he said, more to head off another spat between the siblings than because he cared. “What’s it all about?”
“You’ve never seen a boat parade?” She sat back on her heels. With her forest-green windbreaker over a red turtleneck, she looked like a Christmas ornament herself, especially with her cheeks rosy from the breeze off the water.
He shook his head. “I grew up inland.”
“Well, I suppose it’s like any Christmas parade, except it’s on the water. Anybody who wants to can decorate their boats with lights, and we sail down the Cooper River, all the way past the Battery. You should see the people who line up to watch. When I was a kid, I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to help. Seeing the lighted boats going downriver in the evening, Christmas carols playing…”
“If I can’t get these speakers fixed, there might not be any carols,” Hugh interrupted. “Daddy should be here. He can fix anything electrical.”
“If he doesn’t shock himself first,” Annabel said. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. If everybody has music playing, I have to admit it clashes a bit.”
“Remember the year Luke rigged our speakers to play that rock ’n’ roll Christmas song Daddy hated?” Hugh grinned. “Now Daddy checks every last thing before he lets us take the boat out.”
Hugh’s cell phone rang just then, and he turned away to answer.
Annabel brought a string of lights to Travis.
&n
bsp; “Here. I’ll hold while you staple.” Judging by the reminiscent smile that curved her lips, she was still thinking of Christmases past.
And the more he was around her, the harder he found it to hold back memories of his own painful Christmases.
Hugh slid his cell phone into his pocket. “Hey, Bel, I’ve got to go. D’you two mind finishin’ up?”
“I guess not. If we don’t get it all done, we’ll put stuff away, at least.” She glanced up at Travis’s face. “Is that okay with you?”
“Fine.” He hoped that sounded enthusiastic enough. He was their guest. He had to fall in with what they wanted to do, didn’t he?
They worked a while longer in silence except for the music. Annabel hummed along softly.
“You people do like celebrating Christmas, don’t you?”
She tilted her head, looking at him a little quizzically. “I guess so. Doesn’t everyone?”
He shrugged, not quite willing to answer that.
Annabel stretched out a strand of wire, frowning at it. “I guess we kind of railroaded you into helping. If you’re tired of this—”
“No, of course not.” He didn’t want to offend anybody. Or did Annabel mean that she wanted to leave?
But she just nodded and went on with the work. “I guess we do all get a little sappy about the family celebration—you know, all the silly little traditions families build up around the holidays.”
No, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to admit that to her. “I guess you have plenty of perfect Christmas memories.”
She seemed to consider that. “I don’t know that they were always that perfect, although Mamma surely did try to make them that way. I mean, there were the years when Daddy was stationed someplace far away and couldn’t get home for Christmas. Everybody tried to put a good face on it, but it wasn’t easy.”
Military families had to put up with that, but it must be hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sad memory.”
“It’s all right. I just didn’t want you to think we claimed to be perfect. After what happened—” She stopped, quite suddenly, as if whatever she was going to say was too difficult. “Anyway, it’ll be a little bittersweet this year, with Luke not home.”
