“I think we have a mistake here somewhere, Shyla.” She tapped a finger against Shyla’s notebook figures. “Look at your recipes. Take the amount of flour you need for each batch of cookies. Multiply times the number of batches. Then divide that into the number of cups in a pound of flour. Remember, we’re using an estimate here to have plenty.”
Shyla’s eyes glazed over. Sophie laughed and turned the child toward the screen hanging on the wall. “The data is on the SMART Board. Go. Check your figures. Teamwork, sugar doodle. And remind Trevor I’ll need his cost estimate once you’re done.”
Shyla scooted away, a frown between her eyebrows as she and her twin debated the figures. Across the room Zoey, the local vet’s daughter, ran her fingers across braille instructions and spoke to her best friend, Delaney Markham. Sophie’s heart warmed at the way the two little girls had latched on to Davey and drawn him into their group. In two hours’ time, the blind girl and the mute boy had worked out a simple, effective process of communication with bouncy blonde Delaney as their go-between.
Sophie’s thoughts drifted to this morning when she’d picked up Davey for school. He had been nervous and uncertain about this new adventure even though she and Kade had reassured him in every way they could think of. It was hard to know what worried a child with no voice to express his feelings. So far, he made no attempt to communicate in writing either, a fact that concerned both Sophie and the special-needs director.
Wanting to be sure he was okay, she made her way to the pod of four children seated around a grouping of desks. “How are things going over here?”
“Good. We have everything done except our grocery list.” Zoey typed something on her laptop.
“How about you, Davey? Everything okay?”
He nodded, his gaze moving around the classroom with avid interest.
“He’s helping us, Miss B.,” Delaney said. “He’ll be real good at decorating. See?” She tugged a drawing from beneath Davey’s hand and pushed it toward Sophie. “He’s drawing and coloring the cookies so we can have a plan of attack when we start working.”
Sophie’s heart warmed at the obvious attempt to include Davey. “I knew this team was perfect for him.”
She leaned down to hug the girls’ shoulders.
“You smell good, Miss B.”
“Well, thank you, Zoey. So do you.”
The dark-haired girl beamed. “Mom let me use her sweet pea spray.”
“Mom” Sophie knew was actually her stepmother, Cheyenne Bowman, who ran the local women’s shelter. Zoey, already a strong child thanks to her father, had bloomed with Cheyenne in her life.
“Miss Bartholomew?” Delaney said. “There’s a man looking in our door.”
Sophie’s heart clutched. Biff liked order and quiet. He’d been accepting of her plan for Davey, but he was always a little sketchy about her loosely structured activities.
She schooled herself to turn slowly and remain composed as though her classroom was not the loudest in the building. Before her brain could sort out the man’s identity, Davey shot up, nearly knocking over his chair, and raced toward the door.
Sophie’s heart clutched for a far different reason. Kade McKendrick’s brown eyes squinted through the glass. When he caught her eye, he pointed a finger at Davey and raised his eyebrows.
By now, Hannah, the nosy Rosy of fifth grade, had spied the visitor and plowed through her classmates like a bowling ball to open the door.
“Thank you, Hannah.” Sophie parted the sea of nosy students.
“Who is he? Davey’s dad?” Hannah shoved her glasses up with a wrinkle of her nose and peered intently at Kade. “Are you Davey’s dad? Why can’t he talk? Is he really in fifth grade? He looks too little to me.”
Davey had Kade’s legs in a stranglehold. Kade looked at Sophie with a dazed expression. “You do this all day?”
Sophie chuckled. Everyone asked that.
Irrepressible Hannah hadn’t budged. “I’m Hannah. If you’re not Davey’s dad, who are you? Are you Miss B.’s boyfriend? My mom says she’s too pretty to be an old maid, but she never goes out with anyone. Wait till I tell her.”
Face heating up faster than a cookie oven, Sophie said more emphatically, “Hannah, please. You may go back to your group now.”
The serious tone did the trick. Not the least offended, Hannah returned to her group, but the frequent glances and loud whispers about Miss B. and her boyfriend kept coming.
“Sorry,” Sophie said, cold hands to hot cheeks. “Hannah is a gossip columnist in training.”
“I shouldn’t have interrupted.” He pointed back down the hallway, his tan leather jacket pulling open to reveal a black pullover. He looked really good this morning, shaved, hair in an intentional muss, and he smelled even better. She’d yet to distinguish his cologne, but she’d know it anywhere. The musk and spice had tortured her, deliciously so, on Saturday and had stayed in her head all day Sunday. A man had no right to smell better than chocolate-chip cookies.
“I checked in at the office,” he was saying. “The security in this building is terrible. No visitor’s badge. No ID. Nothing.”
“Redemption is a safe town. We trust people.”
“I don’t.”
“Really?” She cocked her head. “What a news flash.”
He curled his lip at her, more a cynic’s sneer than a smile. “How’s Davey handling all this…this—” he waved a hand around the room “—whatever it is.”
“We’re doing our groundwork for the project. Zoey, Delaney and Ross have taken him under their wing. He’s thriving, aren’t you, Davey?”
Davey nodded, though both adults figured he didn’t comprehend the word.
“Having fun, eh, buddy?” Kade asked.
Davey nodded again and pointed at his group. The little girls waved while Ross, as blond as Davey and easily the brightest boy in the class, scribbled away at his notebook. His dad was the town physician and Ross already felt the pressure to succeed. A serious kid, Sophie put him in Zoey’s group to brighten him up. No one could hang out with Zoey and Delaney and not have a good time.
“How do you actually bake cookies in here?” Kade asked. “No oven.”
“We have some volunteer moms who head up the groups on baking days while the cafeteria ladies supervise the ovens. It works.”
“Crazy.” Expression still wary and a little dazed, he patted Davey’s shoulder and said, “Head back to the group, buddy. I need to talk to Miss B.”
Davey clung for one more leg hug before doing as he was told.
“He’s adjusting,” she said, gaze following Davey until he settled again. As she turned back to Kade, the now-familiar tingle of awareness started up again. She tamped it down. This was her classroom and her students were her main focus, not Kade, no matter how appealing or unnerving. “At first, he was very shy, but now that he knows his little group, he’s loosening up more.”
“Anyone giving him a hard time about his voice?” From the narrow gaze and hard tone, he might have added, “If they are, I’ll beat them up.”
The thought, of course, was ridiculous. Sophie couldn’t quite envision a grown man, a law-enforcement professional, going toe-to-toe with a ten-year-old. But Kade would definitely protect and defend.
She smiled, glad he couldn’t read her thoughts. “Kids are curious, but no one is cruel. They’re used to Zoey’s blindness and I think that helps them accept others with disabilities. But just in case, I put him with a group of very nice children.”
“Glad to hear it.” He shifted, hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I guess I should go.”
He pivoted to leave.
“Wait.” Sophie caught the slick leather of his jacket and held on as she cast a practiced glance over the classroom. The students were working cooperatively. Loudly, but without problems. No need for Kade to rush away. Davey was clearly reassured by his visit. Okay, so she was a little juiced to see him, too. No harm in that, was there? “Any progress today on Dav
ey’s identity?”
“Nothing concrete. I spent the morning with Jesse Rainmaker. Good man.”
“He is.”
“He’s doing all his small department can do.” His expression said that wasn’t enough, and she was sure Jesse Rainmaker felt the same. A small-town police department stretched to have the resources and manpower for daily operations.
“So, where do we go from here?” Sophie turned to watch her class while listening to Kade. Group work could go sour quickly without her watchful eye. “I want to help, but I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m getting the word out. Rainmaker’s men, when they can, are doing a house to house. I put a notice in the paper this morning along with the snapshot you took of Davey and Sheba.” He shifted again, boots scuffing on the tile, obviously out of his element in a classroom full of ten-year-olds. Dads almost always reacted this way. Uneasy, watchful, cutely pathetic until they’d acclimated. She loved when dads visited. Not that Kade was anyone’s dad, but still…
“What about the surrounding towns?” she asked. “I’m convinced Davey is not from Redemption.”
“I’m working on that. I have a list of area newspapers to email or telephone this afternoon. Hopefully, with enough publicity, we can dig up someone who knows something.”
From the back of the room, a strident voice called, “Miss B., Jacob is not cooperating. He says the cookie project stinks and I stink.” The speaker sniffed his sleeve. “I don’t stink and if he doesn’t shut up, I’m gonna…”
Sophie lifted a palm up like a stop sign. “Stop. Right there.” To Kade, she said, “I have to get back to business.”
“Need me to knock a couple of heads?”
She wasn’t sure if he was joking. “Maybe later.”
“Anytime.” He backed out of the room. “See you after school.”
Davey saw Kade’s intention and rushed his knees again. Sophie, already on the move toward the disagreement in the back, figured Kade could handle Davey. By the time she’d settled the argument and looked up again, Davey was back at the tables with his group, her door was closed and Kade was gone.
Chapter Seven
Kade didn’t know why he’d gone by her classroom. Well, other than Davey. He’d wanted to check on the boy, make sure the arrangement was working out. But he could have called.
No. Better to see for himself.
He groaned. He’d never been one to second-guess every decision. He’d been decisive, sure, confident.
Before.
But wasn’t that part of the reason his department had sent him to a shrink and put him on extended leave? He’d lost his confidence and with it the edge needed to do what he did.
He snicked the lock on his car, the cherry-red paint job bright and shiny in the cold sunshine.
Who was he trying to fool? After a discouraging morning of following dead ends, he’d wanted to look into Sophie’s clear, pure eyes, listen to her soothing voice and try to believe that life wasn’t always ugly. With her optimism, she had almost convinced him on Saturday that Davey was simply a lost child and some frantic mother was desperately searching for him. Cold reality had struck him between the eyes in the police chief’s office this morning. No one in the state was looking for a blond, blue-eyed boy with no voice.
Still, Saturday had been…nice. Over a batch of lopsided sugar cookies, formed into shapes without benefit of fancy cutters, Kade had spent a few hours of peace.
The kicker had come when she’d asked him and Davey to church. To her credit, she’d taken his refusal in stride just as she’d done the first time she had tried to sell him cookies, as if she knew she’d win in the end. She wouldn’t. He didn’t belong in church anymore, but Davey had gone with her and had come home with a red Kool-Aid ring around his happy mouth and a colored picture of the baby Jesus. The kid was bursting with pride that left Kade with no choice. He’d taped the purple Jesus to the refrigerator.
A cloud moved over the pale sun, casting a weak shadow. A piece of notebook paper somersaulted across the street to catch in the chain-link fence surrounding the school. In this quiet residential neighborhood, cars motored slowly past, a dog trotted toward the playground and from somewhere he heard the buzz of a chain saw.
People went about the daily business of life oblivious to the lurking danger.
He’d been trained to see it, trained to a paranoia without which he would be dead. A week ago, he wouldn’t have cared one way or the other. But now—now, he had a purpose named Davey.
Sophie’s soft expression flashed behind his eyelids.
One hand on the open car door, Kade squinted back at the elementary school. No gate secured the building from the street, and the school was wide-open, not a security guard anywhere. Anyone could walk in there and execute a tragedy in a matter of seconds. Didn’t these small-town people watch the news?
A bell rang and the double doors burst open, spewing out a running, shoving mass of very small children who barreled toward the playground behind the school. Two teachers, neither of them Sophie, followed the pack. One spotted him and said something to the other. He waited to see if either would accost him, demand his name and business. After a moment of staring, they huddled closer into their coats and disappeared around the corner.
Frustrated, he slammed his car door, jabbed the lock remote and headed back inside the school building. Davey and Sophie were in this place. The principal, whoever he was, was about to get a crash course in safety.
* * *
Sophie rubbed her hands over her face and took a deep, cleansing breath. She was tired. Good tired. Today had gone well and each group was ready to move forward with the shopping segment of the project. Carefully organized folders filled with data, shopping lists and cost estimates waited on the back shelf for the volunteer mothers who would do the actual shopping. The stapler click-clacked as she added a candy-cane border to the green butcher-papered bulletin board. Except for this last board, she almost had her classroom covered in Christmas decorations. The students had helped, of course, adding their artwork to the room. Shiny red garland draped from corner to corner. Multicolored lights chased one another around the door and window. Mercy Me’s Christmas CD spun out a version of “The Little Drummer Boy.”
She sighed. Life was good.
A hand tugged on her arm. She looked down into Davey’s enormous blue eyes. He pointed at her face and pulled down the corners of his mouth.
“No, I’m not sad. Just tired.” She smiled to prove as much.
The kids had made paper elves to hang from hooks on the ceiling and the accordion-pleated legs bounced up and down every time the heater activated. They made her smile. Everything in this room filled her with happiness. She could never be sad here. Tired, yes. Sad, never.
“You know something, Davey?”
His eyebrows arched in question.
“You’re a very nice boy. Being sensitive to other people’s feelings is a wonderful gift. You have that.”
He returned the smile and without being asked began to pick up the stray bits of green paper she’d dropped.
Regardless of Kade’s suspicions that Davey had been abused or come from a terrible background, Sophie saw signs that someone had taught him well. She’d studied abused children, had encountered some, too, and he didn’t fit the mold.
But then, as Kade said, she was an optimist who believed the best.
Kade. Seeing him had stirred up the memory of last Saturday and she’d been distracted more than once today thinking about him. They’d baked cookies with Davey, and when the child wandered into the backyard to play Frisbee with Sheba, Sophie had lingered longer than she should have. Long enough to know she liked more about Kade McKendrick than his crisp good looks.
Beneath the aloof demeanor lived a good person with a powerful sense of justice. He’d find a way to help Davey.
Finishing touches on the bulletin board complete, she unplugged the cinnamon-scented candle warmer and reached inside a file cabinet for
her handbag. A knock sounded at her door. A silly, surprising hope leaped to the fore. Kade? Come to retrieve Davey?
“Come in.”
Biff Gruber, as tidy as he’d been eight hours ago, stepped into the room. “Sophie, I’m glad you’re still here.”
“You just caught me.” Vaguely disappointed, she forced a friendly look. She hoped he hadn’t come to complain about the noise. “How was your day? I saw the fourth-grade teacher hauling Marcus Prine toward your office after lunch.”
Biff’s eyes crinkled. “I earn my paycheck with Marcus and his mother.”
“Roberta rushed to defend him, I suppose.” Roberta Prine, a main-street beautician, gossip and all-round trouble stirrer, was raising two sons much like herself.
“Yes, but Roberta’s visit isn’t what I want to discuss with you.” His tone went serious and he got that stiff I’m-the-principal look. “I am concerned about your friends who pay unexpected visits to school.”
Uh-oh. She set down her handbag and stood behind the desk, glad for the three feet of distance between herself and her supervisor. This was her safe zone, the spot she chose when dealing with prickly parents.
“If you are referring to Mr. McKendrick, who stopped in to see how things were going with Davey, he checked in at the office.”
“His classroom visit is not what I wanted to discuss, although from reports he may have overstayed his time limit. Really, Sophie, the classroom is not the place to entertain male guests.”
Sophie bristled. “Biff! I can’t believe you said such a thing. You know me better than that.”
“Yes, well.” He jerked his cuff. “Mr. McKendrick seems unduly concerned with your safety and welfare. He barged into my office complaining about the lack of appropriate security and explained how he could have wiped out the entire student body in seventeen seconds.”
Sophie’s lips quivered. She pressed them in, bit down hard for a second to stifle the laugh. Biff was not in a laughing mood. “He said that? Seventeen seconds?”
A Child's Christmas Boxed Set: Sugarplum HomecomingThe Christmas ChildA Season For Grace Page 26
