by Ford, Linda
There was no clear answer. Rachel advised him not to study on it too much, to simply accept their kindness and be grateful.
Before services Sunday morning, he was escorting his two ladies to their seats when Elizabeth Jenkins intercepted them in the aisle.
“Oh, Rachel, I’m afraid I have bad news.”
Conversation stalled around them. Rachel’s fingers clutched his suit sleeve.
A quiet, thoughtful woman the same age as he, Elizabeth had married Lee Jenkins, the banker’s only son, shortly after her eighteenth birthday. As far as he knew, the couple was still childless, a state that deeply saddened them both. He hadn’t known she and Rachel were close and wondered what she had to tell her. And what was so pressing it couldn’t wait until services were over?
“What is it, Liz?”
The pretty, brown-haired lady looked distraught, and she wasn’t dressed for church. “It’s Lee. He was moving things around in the barn last night and hurt his back. Doc Owens advised him to stay in bed the rest of the week. I’m so sorry, but he won’t be able to participate in the performance.”
Rachel rested a hand on Liz’s, clamped tight with tension. “Please, don’t worry about the performance. We’ll figure something out. I’m sorry about Lee. I’ll be praying for a speedy recovery.”
“But who will play Joseph?”
“We’ll find someone, I’m sure of it.”
Elizabeth’s gaze fastened on him, and he knew exactly what she was about to suggest.
“What about you, Cole? Would you be willing to fill in for Lee?”
Uh-uh. No way. He was the black sheep of Gatlinburg, or didn’t she remember that? There was absolutely no way he could stand up in front of this town and portray Jesus’s earthly father.
“I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“You’re the same size as Lee,” Rachel pointed out, her enthusiasm unmistakable. “I doubt I’d have to alter his costume.”
“Rachel—” he pitched his voice low “—you aren’t thinking this through. I want to help you, truly I do, but I’m the last person who should get involved.”
“Nonsense.” Sam O’Malley, who’d entered the church behind them, slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Why shouldn’t you? I personally think you’d make a wonderful Joseph.”
“I second that.” Ruthanne Moore nodded sagely. Beside her, Emmett frowned but didn’t offer his opinion. No doubt he wasn’t expected to have one.
Rachel squeezed his arm. “There are only a couple of lines. I could go over them with you every day until the performance.”
Christmas Eve was this coming Saturday. That didn’t give him much time to prepare. Oh, what did it matter, anyway? He wasn’t agreeing to this.
Elizabeth spoke up. “And if you agree, I can go home and tell Lee the good news. He’d rest easier if he didn’t have to worry about this.”
“I—”
“Please?” Rachel’s luminous blue eyes begged him to reconsider. “For me?”
He couldn’t be angry with her for putting him on the spot. This was the first thing she’d asked of him since his return. A small thing, really. How could he disappoint her?
“All right. I’ll do it.” He sighed, wondering what ramifications his involvement might have. Lawrence would not react well to this news.
“Thank you.”
The smile she rewarded him with erased his apprehension, warmed him with satisfaction. Her happiness was worth any price he had to pay.
* * *
“Do you have a minute?”
Cole stood in the open doorway, his breath puffs of wispy smoke, snow clinging to his boots and lower pant legs. Sometime during the night, clouds had moved in and dumped about six inches of the white powder on the ground. Their first snow of the season.
Rachel placed the last dried dish in the cupboard and looped the towel over a hook. “Sure. What do you need?”
“I have a surprise. Bundle up and come outside. Bring Abigail.”
Boyish excitement lit up his face. What was he up to?
“What—”
He wagged a finger. “No questions.”
With a parting grin, he pulled the door shut behind him. She stared at the closed door, hands on hips, and shook her head in wonder. Then she looked at Abby, still seated in her high chair. “Your daddy is up to something.”
Abby merely grinned and banged her toy against the table.
Laughing, Rachel swept the little girl up and hugged her close, kissing her soundly on the cheek. Quickly, curiosity brimming, she dressed Abby in her coat, hat and mittens. When she’d fastened her own cape and bonnet, she opened the door and, stepping out onto the snow-dusted porch, immediately noticed the sleigh.
Cole’s head whipped up, and beneath the brim of his black hat, his brows raised in question. “Would you two ladies care for a sleigh ride?”
When she began to make her way toward him, he crunched across the snow and extended his arm. “Oh, Cole, this is wonderful.” She smiled up at him. “It hasn’t been used since...”
He glanced at her, serious again, remembering as she was their one and only outing in this sleigh. Nearly two years ago to the date, Christmas Day. Their wedding day.
It had felt suddenly as if they were strangers. Uncomfortable in each other’s presence, the conversation stilted as they struggled to accept their new reality. Much had changed since then.
He paused, suddenly uncertain. “I thought you might like to go and find a tree, but if you’d rather not...”
“I’d love to.”
He looked as if he wanted to say more, but decided against it. Helping her onto the seat, he settled Abby in her lap and placed hot bricks near her feet. Then he climbed in next to her and tucked a large quilt about their legs, enveloping them in a warm cocoon. With a gentle smile that melted her heart, his gloved hands closed over the reins and he signaled for the team to head out.
Above them, buttery sunlight streamed down from a brilliant blue sky, a kiss of warmth in the otherwise crisp air. As they entered the winter-wonderland forest, the harness bells tinkled merrily and the rudders glided smoothly over the hard-packed snow. A flawless white world enveloped them, white-laced tree branches appearing as intricate icicle webs. A cold, mysterious beauty.
Tucked against Cole’s side, Rachel was content to simply absorb her surroundings. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to forget—for one brief afternoon—past hurts and present troubles. More than anything, she wanted to abandon her cares and revel in the moment, to enjoy this outing with her husband and daughter. To pretend they were a real family, that he was with her because he loved her so desperately that he’d never dream of abandoning her again.
Cole met her gaze then, his hazel eyes unguarded for once and full of emotion she couldn’t identify. His slow smile was like the sunrise, transforming his solemn face. Happy looked good on him. She decided she liked it very much.
The afternoon, filled with good-natured teasing and laughter as they bickered over which tree to choose, sped by, and all too soon they were approaching the cabin.
“You pop the corn while I get this monster situated inside, then I’ll help you string it.”
With Abby in her arms, she hesitated before accepting his outstretched hand. “I don’t have any.”
“Yes, you do.” His teeth flashed in a grin. “I bought some when I was getting my supplies last week.”
So he’d planned this in advance, had he? She arched a brow. “If I do, you have to promise not to eat it all. That monster, as you call it, is gonna need a lot of popcorn to decorate those branches.”
He’d pretended to grumble about the one she’d liked best, complaining it was a giant and far too large for their home. But she’d seen the teasing sparkle in his eyes, the suppressed laughter about his generous mouth. He w
as obviously as good at playing the pretending game as she.
“I guess I can leave some for the tree.”
Without warning, he circled her waist with both hands and swung her and Abby down, then lowered a kiss on both their cheeks. Abby, tired and cold, rested her head on Rachel’s shoulder. Rachel blushed, foolishly wishing for a different type of kiss, one like they’d shared the night of the fire.
Oops. She wasn’t supposed to think of that disaster. Their fairy-tale afternoon wasn’t over yet. They still had to decorate the tree and share a treat of steamy hot cocoa and gingerbread cookies.
While Abby slept in her crib, they strung popcorn and made paper snowflakes. The gorgeous pine stood tall and full in the corner, the fresh scent filling the space with anticipation of Christmas. Only five more days until the presentation. Six until Christmas, their second anniversary.
Having Cole here day and night was wearing on her resistance. His constant presence made it difficult for her to remember the reasons she shouldn’t open her heart to him again. He fit here. That was the problem. He’d waltzed back into their lives as if the last sixteen months hadn’t happened, and she’d let him.
What did that make her? Lonely? Desperate? A fool?
Joining her at the sink, he glanced down and grinned.
“What’s so funny?”
“You have a chocolate mustache.” He laughed softly, lightly wiping the moisture from her mouth with a cloth. “There. Perfection restored.”
Their gazes locked. The humor in his eyes faded, replaced with admiration and longing. His touch and nearness ignited a flurry of butterflies in her midsection. Her limbs grew heavy, her fingers tingly, her being in tune with his.
With uncharacteristic boldness, she touched her palm to his cheek and glided her thumb across his skin, warm and still smooth from his morning shave. He blew out a breath. Covered her hand with his own and held it there. His expression slowly changed, his longing banked and replaced with questions. Questions she wasn’t ready to face. Surely their afternoon of pretend wasn’t over yet.
Quickly, before he could end it, she pulled his face down to hers. He didn’t resist as she’d feared. They clung to each other, adrift in uncharted waters, the future a dark unknown.
“Rachel,” he breathed, pulling away but keeping a firm grip on her shoulders, “I need to know what you want from me.” His expression was torn between need and uncertainty.
“What do you mean?” But of course she already knew.
“How long am I welcome here?”
“I can’t answer that.” Biting her lip, she lowered her gaze to his chest. Her heart slowed with dread. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Cole, but how could she trust him after what he did?
Dropping his hands, he stepped back. “Do you expect me to rebuild Ma’s place and live apart from you and Abby? To be a part-time family, sitting together in church and sharing meals on occasion? I have to be honest—” he ran a frustrated hand through his hair “—I don’t know that I’ll be able to live like that for very long.”
The picture he painted was a dismal one. A kind of half-life that would only serve to frustrate the two of them and confuse Abby. What was the answer then? Her head and heart were divided. Trust him or not?
And what of his expectations? His feelings? He’d admitted she mattered to him, but not once had he mentioned love. Could she bear to live with him, to love him day in and day out if he didn’t love her in return? Wouldn’t that be a half-life, too?
“I need more time.” Head bent, arms hugging her middle, she stared at the floorboards.
“I understand.” With a heavy sigh, he crossed to the door and slipped on his coat and hat. “I’ll be out in the barn for a while.”
Rachel blinked back the sudden tears. If only he did love her, maybe then she’d have the courage to try again.
* * *
Feeling ridiculous in the shepherd’s getup, Cole gripped the curved staff tighter, oblivious to the rough wood biting into his palm. His gaze didn’t waver from Rachel’s face. If he glanced down at the sleeping infant in the woman playing Mary’s arms, he’d be reminded of Abigail’s birth and all he’d missed. He’d wonder how she’d looked at that age, if she’d been peaceful like this one or fussy and demanding. If he looked beyond where Rachel stood directing the dress rehearsal to the back of the church, he’d encounter curious parents watching his every move, perhaps waiting for him to mess up. He should never have agreed to this.
But he’d wanted to make his wife happy. This play, the spur-of-the-moment sleigh ride and tree trimming had been for her. Unlike before, he was making an effort to please her, to lower the walls he’d erected years ago. It didn’t come easy. Changing lifelong patterns. But to know her, to truly know her heart and mind, was a prize worth attaining.
Rachel glanced his direction then and offered him a quick smile of encouragement. He cocked a brow in response. Please let this be over soon.
The children were in the middle of Angels We Have Heard on High when the doors burst open and Lawrence strode in, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Cole’s chest constricted. This night had just taken a turn for the worse.
When Shane Timmons entered the room several paces behind the large man, his granite face colder than usual, Cole knew he was in trouble.
“Stop this!” Lawrence bellowed as he marched down the aisle.
Rachel jumped, her startled gaze bouncing between her father and Cole as the piano music ground to a halt and the children grew quiet. Fear leeched the color from her cheeks.
Pointing his finger in accusation, Lawrence managed to look outraged. “There he is, Sheriff! Arrest the thief!”
Gasps and murmurings filled the silence as the bystanders pressed closer. If he hadn’t been the center of attention before, he certainly was now. Seething with anger, Cole removed his head covering and moved to stand in the aisle.
“What’s this about, Sheriff?” He held Lawrence’s calculating gaze.
With an air of grim reluctance, he angled himself between the two men. “One of Mr. Gooding’s horses is missing. He claims to have evidence you stole it.”
“It’s not just a claim, Sheriff. I have the evidence right here.” He patted his coat pocket, then turned to address the crowd. “Cole Prescott has fooled you all. He’s a crook, just like his conniving, thieving pa before him. He stole my horse, and I can prove it.”
Cole’s mind raced. He was innocent. What kind of evidence could the man possibly have?
“I was about to retire last night, smoking a cigar on my front porch, when I heard what I thought was a rider approaching. When I didn’t see anyone, I went out to the barn to take a look around and discovered my best horse missing. Today, I found this in the hay next to the empty stall.” He pulled out a gold pocket watch and let it dangle high in the air by its chain. “The initials on the inside lid are C.E.P.”
Cole closed his eyes as reality crashed into him. He’d underestimated his enemy. Lawrence would go to any length to get rid of him, including framing him for a crime he didn’t commit. How had he gotten hold of the watch? Unless...he’d searched Cole’s ma’s cabin before he set fire to it.
“Let me see that,” Timmons ordered.
When Cole reopened his eyes, he met the sheriff’s probing stare. He couldn’t bear to look at Rachel, couldn’t bear to witness her hurt and accusation. No way would she believe him over her father.
“Is this yours, Prescott?”
“It is.”
More gasps.
Lawrence’s smirk reeked of triumph. Cole curled his hands into fists, the itch to wipe that smirk off his face hard to suppress.
“Did you do what Gooding is accusing you of? Did you steal his horse?”
“No, I did not.”
“Check his
place,” Lawrence challenged, folding his arms across his barrel chest. “If my horse is there, and I’ve no doubt it is, then you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
“I don’t care what evidence you have—” Rachel surged to his side and faced the two men with trembling conviction “—my husband is not a thief!”
Stunned, Cole’s jaw went slack and he stared at her. She believed him?
Her father’s face turned beet-red. “Are you calling me a liar?”
She flinched, but held her ground. “Cole couldn’t have stolen your horse. He was with me last night.”
“He must’ve slipped out while you were asleep.”
“No, I would’ve heard him.”
“Listen here—”
Timmons held up a hand. “There’s an easy way to settle this. We’ll take a ride out to the Prescott place. If the horse isn’t there, we’ll do some more digging. The watch alone isn’t enough to convince me of his guilt. He’s your son-in-law and has spent time there in the past. It could’ve been buried in the hay for some time.”
“And if my horse is there?” Lawrence pressed.
The sheriff’s mouth thinned. “Then I’ll have no choice but to arrest Prescott.”
Chapter Eleven
Rachel blinked to clear her vision, certain her mind was playing tricks on her. Blackie, her father’s favorite horse, was here. In her barn. This didn’t make any sense.
Cole’s face was a frozen mask, his eyes flat, emotionless.
Shane looked equally grim. “I’m gonna have to take you in until we get this sorted out.”
“There’s nothing to sort out.” Her father sounded almost gleeful. “This proves I was right all along.”
No! Something was terribly wrong here. Cole wouldn’t have done this.
Rachel tried to capture his gaze, but he appeared lost in thought. Why wasn’t he fighting this? Proclaiming his innocence?
Shane ignored her father, obviously displeased with the turn of events. “I assume I can trust you to come with me of your own accord?”
