“As independent as ever.” Dad made one last adjustment to the lighted tree and stood. Colored lights flickered over his worn University of Oklahoma sweatshirt and reflected a rosy glow on his skin.
“Queen of her domain.” Sophie reached over one shoulder to rub the arrogant cat. “The two of you are quite a pair.”
“True. She’s my buddy.”
Cleo batted Sophie’s fingers with soft claws and purred. The Siamese had been Mom’s cat, but she’d left her pet behind along with her family. Sophie thought, not for the first time, how lonely Dad must be in this once-noisy, active house with only Cleo for company.
“Have you talked to Todd lately?” Her brother and his family were in the military, stationed in Ft. Hood. Holidays presented a challenge for them, especially with his wife’s family in Florida.
“A couple of days ago. They’re going to her folks’ this year.”
“Imagine that,” she teased. “Choosing the Sunshine State over cold and blustery Oklahoma.”
“I like cold and blustery.”
“Me, too. It feels like Christmas.”
She had her father, her church, her students and most of all, her Lord. Christmas in Redemption, blustery wind and all, would be blessed and beautiful. If she sometimes wished for a family of her own, especially at Christmas, it was only natural. Thirty, that suspicious benchmark of spinsterhood, was only a few years away. Not that age bothered her all that much. It wasn’t age that made her restless sometimes. But the occasional ache for a home filled with love and laughter and a husband and children was undeniably present. Christmas, especially, was family time.
Her thoughts roamed to Davey and then to Kade. What kind of Christmas would they have? Kade said he didn’t “do the Christmas thing.” What did he mean? Was Dad right? Had some painful event turned him off to the greatest event in history?
Cellophane crinkled as Dad handed her a red-and-white candy cane. The memory of Davey’s book flashed in her head. Hadn’t there been a candy cane on the front? Cybil Cunningham was a good woman with a heart for disabled children. Sophie hoped she’d read Davey’s book to him. Maybe she’d drive out to see him tomorrow if Kade or the police didn’t find where he belonged. She prayed they would.
She gave the peppermint a lick, her first taste of the new Christmas season. “Do I get your special secret-recipe Bartholomew hot cocoa to go with this?”
“I’m on my way to the kitchen.” Sophie started to rise, but her Dad waved her back down. “Sit. You’re still not old enough to be trusted with the family secret.”
With a happy hum, he disappeared around the wall. Sophie heard the clatter of drawers opening and a pot rattle against the stove top. For these few moments, she let herself be Daddy’s little girl again, knowing how much pleasure he took in feeling needed.
She kicked off her shoes and curled her chilled feet beneath her, listening to the tinny melody of “Joy to the World” from the Christmas tree. Her world was full of joy. She wished she could package the feeling and share it with those who found no pleasure in the season.
Kade encroached again, his handsome face serious, the brown eyes dark with some secret angst. Had something happened to steal his joy? Or was he just a guy with a negative attitude?
The cool, sweet peppermint melted on her tongue. From the kitchen arose the warm scent of milk and chocolate. The tree sparkled, a candle dripped cinnamon-scented wax, Cleo purred, warm and content against Sophie’s neck.
Maybe Kade had never had this. Maybe he didn’t know what he was missing.
Sophie took a deep pull on the sweet candy.
Maybe Kade was a Grinch by accident and needed help to find his Christmas spirit.
She offered up a quick prayer, certain the Lord had something special in mind for Scrooge McKendrick this year.
Why else would a big-city cop show up in a small, Christmas-crazy town just in time for the holidays?
Chapter Five
The telephone rang at six. Kade grabbed the receiver on the first ring.
“McKendrick,” Kade snapped before remembering. This was his aunt’s home, not his work phone. He scrubbed a hand over his hair.
“I apologize for waking you,” the male voice said.
Waking him? Wouldn’t that be nice? He’d let Sheba out hours ago. Since then, he’d been lying on the ugly psychedelic sofa twiddling his thumbs.
“I’m up. Who’s this?”
“Jesse Rainmaker at the police station.”
The man worked long hours. “You have information on Davey?”
A hesitation. “We have a problem.”
Kade’s fingers tightened on the handset. “With Davey? What kind of problem? Is he all right?”
“I was hoping you’d know. He ran away from the Cunninghams sometime in the night. Mrs. Cunningham got up around three to look in on him and he was gone.”
Kade fell back against the couch cushions and squinted at the shadowy ceiling. “You think he’s a runner? He’s done this before?”
The furnace kicked on, shuddering in its old age. Faint heat eked from the floor vent to his cool sock feet. It was cold outside. Had Davey worn his new, hand-me-down jacket? The one with the blue race car on the back?
“Maybe. But a boy like that, without a voice, he’s in danger wandering around alone.” Rainmaker sighed, weariness heavy across the line. “The social worker told me how he reacted at your place. I thought you’d want to know.”
Oh, yeah, Davey was in danger, all right. He couldn’t ask for help. He couldn’t even yell. And Kade definitely wanted to know. Sometime in the long hours of sleeplessness, the defenseless, towheaded boy with the worried face had become personal.
“Did you notify Sophie?” The woman had plagued him all night, too, with her Suzy Snowflake personality and soft gray eyes. Davey had latched on to her, and she’d be upset about this turn of events. He wished he could spare her the worry. Nothing she could do about it, but she’d want to know.
“I’ll leave that to you,” Rainmaker said. “My deputies are searching around the Cunningham home. We could use some help, someone Davey likes.”
“Give me directions.” Kade scrambled for a pen and paper, not trusting his memory in strange territory—another hard lesson learned.
Jesse rattled off a series of section lines and local landmarks, then rang off with a “Thanks.” Kade needed no thanks. He needed to find that boy.
Already dressed except for boots and coat, he shrugged into those, debating the phone call to Sophie. He wouldn’t mind hearing her voice but not this way, not as the bearer of bad news.
Gritting his teeth, he whipped out his cell phone and punched in her name, glad they’d exchanged numbers, though at the time, he hadn’t been thinking about Davey. He’d been thinking about those soft gray eyes and a softer smile.
Wishing for a pot of coffee, he listened in growing dismay at the brrr in his ear. This was Saturday. She would sleep late. Her voice mail clicked on.
“Merry Christmas,” the recording said in that candy-coated voice. “You’ve reached Sophie Bartholomew. Please leave a message.”
Easier this way, he thought. Much easier. At least for him.
Acid pooled in his belly. He rubbed the spot.
“Sophie, Kade McKendrick. Give me a call when you get this.”
Why couldn’t he do things the easy way? Why hadn’t he just told her the situation and moved on?
He knew why. According to the shrink he had some kind of superhero complex. He could carry the weight. He could save the world.
Right. He snorted derisively. Tell that in the back alleys of Chicago.
When the phone in his hand suddenly rang, he almost dropped it. A quick glance told him Sophie had gotten the message.
“Hey,” he said. “Sorry I woke you.”
“You didn’t. I was in the shower.”
He carefully avoided going there. He was, after all, a man. “The police chief called.”
“Davey?” Conce
rn laced the word. Kade hated hearing it, hated knowing he’d put the worry there.
“He’s run away from the Cunninghams.”
She sucked in a gasp. “Oh, no.”
“I’m headed out there now to help with the search. Thought you’d want to know.”
“I’m coming. I’ll meet you there.”
“Get ready. I’ll pick you up.” He hadn’t meant to offer, but he liked the idea of Sophie’s soothing presence in his car. “You know the way?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I don’t.”
He’d started to hang up when Sophie said quietly, “It’s really cold this morning.”
He understood her meaning. Davey was out there.
“Yeah.” The chill in Ida June’s house had kicked on the wheezing furnace numerous times during the night. “We’ll find him, Sophie. Don’t worry.”
“Promise?” Her teasing words warmed him. He could hear her moving around, getting ready as they talked. He should hang up, but he was reluctant to let her go.
“No promises. Just action.”
“I like the sound of that. Action and prayer work every time, and I’m already praying. God knows where Davey is.”
“You let me know if He tells you.”
He expected her to go all defensive on him, but instead she laughed. “I will. Have you had breakfast yet?”
Weird question. “No.”
“I have coffee ready in the pot and yogurt in the fridge.”
He made a face at the yogurt. “Bring me coffee and I’m your slave forever.”
That warm, throaty chuckle filled his head. “I’m going to remember that.”
They had a runaway kid to find and he was flirting with a schoolteacher. No wonder he’d lost his edge. Try as he might, he couldn’t resist. And he didn’t try too hard.
“Kade?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m joking around to keep from being afraid.” Her admission softened him. If he wasn’t careful he’d never get his edge back. “It’s cold and dark and the Cunninghams live several miles out in the country.” He heard her swallow. “Davey has to be scared.”
“We’ll find him.”
Phone against his ear, he made his way through the kitchen toward the garage. He flipped the exterior light switch and started down the two steps toward his car.
“Well.” He stopped dead still.
“What is it?”
“I don’t think we’re going to find him.”
A pause hummed anxiously over the distance. “Why?”
Curled in the corner on Sheba’s fluffy bed, with the big dog wrapped around him protectively, Davey lay fast asleep, his book clasped to his skinny chest. He wore the zippered jacket Sophie had given him.
“He found us first.”
* * *
Sophie didn’t consider anything odd about rushing over to Ida June’s house at six in the morning. She pulled into the short concrete drive before the streetlights went out and the first streaks of sun broke the horizon.
Looking lethally male beneath the golden glow of porch light, Kade let her in. A kick of attraction hit Sophie in the empty stomach. Now that she knew Davey was safely in Kade’s care, she took the time to explore the feeling. She hadn’t been attracted this way in a long time, and considering Kade’s dark broodiness, she was a little concerned by her judgment.
He hadn’t shaved yet, naturally, given the time of morning, and a scruffy shadow of whiskers outlined his jaw and mouth. The bottom lip was fuller than the top and held in a grim line, as tightly controlled as his emotions. Everything about Kade McKendrick was close to the vest. His hair stuck up here and there, too, a messy look she found deliciously appealing. He looked like the kind of man with a holster under his shirt and a gun in the back of his jeans, the kind of man who’d fight for those he loved.
Be careful, Sophie.
She thrust a carton of yogurt at him. “Breakfast.”
Kade lifted an eyebrow but didn’t accept her offer. “You said coffee.”
His male grumpiness tickled her. She sniffed the air, certain she whiffed fresh coffee already brewing. “Not a morning person?”
Eyes, dark as her favorite chocolate and more secret than the CIA, mocked her.
“You obviously are,” he said.
“I am.” She couldn’t help waking up full of energy and happiness. Life was good. Mornings brought a clean slate, an empty new twenty-four hours to enjoy. “I’m also a woman of my word. Try this while yours is brewing.” She handed over the thermos. “If it’s any consolation, my dad hates yogurt, too.”
“Man thing. You could have brought cookies instead.” His tone was somewhere between a grouse because she hadn’t and a tease. She liked when Kade teased. It was as if having fun was buried somewhere inside and on occasion bubbled to the surface like lava too long compressed. She’d have to work on unearthing his happy side more often.
“We can make cookies later,” she said, and suddenly the idea of bumping around in a spice-scented kitchen with Kade sounded like a great way to spend a Saturday.
“Davey might like that.”
She wanted to ask if Kade liked the idea, too, but she figured now was a good time to get her runaway brain under control.
“Is he still asleep?” They were standing in the entry, her view into the living area blocked by Kade’s lithe, jean-clad body.
Kade nudged his chin to one side. “Back there. He needed a real bed for a change.”
The reminder that Davey had likely slept out in the open for some time took her mind off the deadly handsome lawman. “May I look in on him?”
He set the thermos on the table—a sacrifice she knew—and led the way down a short hall to a bedroom. The door was open and Davey lay on his back covered to the chin. A furry dog snout was propped on his chest.
“Sheba won’t let him out of her sight,” Kade said in an undertone.
Sophie nodded. “As if she knows he needs her.”
“She knows.”
They watched the sleeping boy and dog for another minute. Sophie grew more aware of the room, of the masculine trappings. A jacket here, a pair of boots there, the faint, lingering scent of male grooming. In one corner leaned a battered guitar. This was Kade’s bedroom, although the covers on the bed were ruffled only where Davey slept. Had Kade not been to bed last night?
Davey squirmed in his sleep, and a frown passed over the small face. Sheba nuzzled his cheek, and Davey, eyes still closed, wrapped both arms around the dog’s neck and settled.
Kade tugged Sophie’s elbow. Even though she wanted to stay and watch the sweetness that was dog and Davey at rest, she trailed Kade back down the short hall to Ida June’s blue-and-yellow kitchen. Colors of the sun and the sky, she thought, as though Kade’s aunt wanted the beauty and freshness of a June day year-round. Sophie got that, although Christmas colors were her favorite.
“Have you notified the sheriff and the Cunninghams that Davey is here?” she asked, and then answered just as quickly. “Of course you have. Dumb question. You were a cop.”
“Am.” Kade poured himself a cup of coffee from her thermos.
“Pardon?”
“I am a cop. On R & R for a few months.”
“You’ll go back, then?”
“To work? Sure. Chicago?” He took a sip of coffee, closed his eyes either to savor the taste or to brace himself for the jolt. “The jury’s still out.”
She took the thermos from him and poured her own cup. “As in a real jury or metaphorically speaking?”
Kade smirked. “Both, actually. You want cream or sugar with that?”
“Yogurt.”
His hand, halfway to his lips with another shot of caffeine, froze. “In your coffee? That’s sick.”
“I know.” She gleefully stirred in a spoon, mostly to watch his reaction. Finally, he’d let his face show his true feelings.
He watched in horrified fascination as if she was about to eat a live snake. “You didn’t
do that yesterday.”
“You didn’t have yogurt.” She took a satisfied sip.
Kade made a gagging noise.
Sophie giggled, almost spewing the mouthful. “Stop.”
His nostrils flared with humor. “You’re doing that to mess with my head.”
She didn’t remember when she’d started spooning yogurt into coffee, probably in college on a silly dare. Discovering she liked the odd, grainy combination had been the real surprise, although she normally reserved her yogurt coffee for quiet, alone times. Others didn’t react well, as Kade so perfectly and delightfully demonstrated.
“Mostly. Is Ida June already up and out or are we disturbing her sleep?”
“We won’t disturb her. Saturday is sleep day. She pokes earplugs in her ears, slides one of those weird masks over her eyes and threatens to disembowel anyone who opens her bedroom door before noon.”
Sophie shook her head, amused. Ida June Click was, as her father said, a pistol. “Have you two always been close?”
“No.” The teasing light flickered out. Oddly, abruptly, he pushed out of the chair, went to the sink where he braced his hands to look out the window. Sophie had a feeling he didn’t really see Ida June’s backyard. And she wondered what can of worms she’d inadvertently opened inside the terse cop. Whatever had brought Kade to his great-aunt’s home and to Redemption had followed him here unresolved.
Unsure where to tread, Sophie quietly sipped her coffee and waited him out. She studied him, lean waist and wedge-shaped torso taut, the leashed strength in his bent arms quivering with some deep emotion.
“I’m going to fight them over Davey,” he said softly.
Puzzling, interesting man. “I am, too.”
He whirled then as if he’d expected argument and gave one short nod. “Good. We’re on the same page. He’s not going back. One of us will take him.”
“Until his family is found.”
The heavy dose of doubt shadowed his secret eyes again. “Nearly eighty percent of runaways and throwaways are never reported missing by their families. Did you know that?” He tossed the numbers out as in challenge, teeth tight, eyes narrowed. “Eighty percent.”
A Child's Christmas Boxed Set: Sugarplum HomecomingThe Christmas ChildA Season For Grace Page 24
