by Lyn Cote
"You are." He tightened his embrace. "Why can't you see it? Everything about you—your honesty, your caring for others. You're just beautiful." A fierce protectiveness surged inside him; his expression darkened. "I just wish you didn't know how it felt to have Veda McCracken hate you. Why has everyone allowed her to abuse you?"
Wendy released a ragged sigh. "Veda McCracken is a law unto herself."
"She's hurt you—"
She looked away. "Every chance she gets. Some Sundays it has been difficult to pull together enough courage to face her in church."
He rested his cheek on top of her silky hair. "Why didn't you give up?"
"You didn't give up." She pulled him closer, resting her face against his cotton flannel shirt, hearing his heartbeat, rapid like hers. "I decided that I wanted to be near Grandfather and God, and I wasn't going to let that ugly old woman stop me."
He moved his cheek in a nodding motion against her hair. "I guess I better adopt the same attitude."
She pressed her face tighter against his chest. "Don't let her get to you. That's what she wants. Nothing would make her happier than to run you out of your job, out of the county."
"I've never had a case like this before," he began.
She stilled in his arms, then nodded against him.
"I keep thinking that maybe I showed pride when I took this job, this being sheriff—maybe I'm in over my head."
"That's not what your Uncle George believed. I was his home health nurse for nearly three years, and I heard about your cases every time I visited him. I know you've risked your life over and over and saved countless others—"
He tried to interrupt.
She swept on. "And you should feel pride. Forget Cram. Forget Veda. Focus on your job—"
He kissed her again.
She leaned against him as he supported her. She sighed, drawing back. "You make my knees mush."
He chuckled and led her back to the sofa. They snuggled close together.
"I don't want you to violate a confidence, but from what I've heard, Veda did something at the Senior Bazaar, didn't she?"
"I'm not at liberty to say." His hold loosened as though giving her permission to draw away.
"That's okay. I'll hear about it eventually. Steadfast can't keep a secret. As my mom always said, 'Everything comes out in the wash.'" Fatigue hit her. Wendy yawned and tried to smother it. "Your fine-tasting coffee isn't working." She gave him a sheepish grin. "I think it's time I tiptoe down to see how Kane is doing." She got up, even though she longed to linger beside him.
"He's still breathing," Rodd said, commenting on Kane's loud snoring with a wry smile. But his gaze lingered on her.
Rosy from his regard, Wendy smiled back and then slipped out of the room and down the steps. Kane lay just as they had left him. She stood over him, looking for any signs of anything she should be concerned about. But he slept, his chest rising and falling in a normal pattern.
With her arms folded against the chill, she walked back upstairs and into the living room. She sat in front of the fire with Rodd's arms came around and held her for long moments, making her too content to need to speak. When Rodd fell asleep, she smoothly extricated herself, picked up the coffee cups, and took them into the kitchen. Then she gently pushed Rodd's head down onto the pillow and pulled a blanket over him. Across from him, she curled up under an afghan on the recliner. She'd sleep down here. She might not be able to hear Kane from upstairs.
She studied Rodd. He must have been exhausted to fall asleep so quickly. Yawning, she pushed back the chair, bringing up the footrest. He said I'm beautiful, Lord. She smiled, remembering the experience of being held so close and with such tenderness. Thank you. I've always wanted someone special to tell me that. Just once, to hear those words. But you knew that, didn't you?
On Christmas morning, the bright cold sun on the pure white snow dazzled Wendy. She slid on her sunglasses over her face mask and then pulled the helmet over her head. She'd wakened this morning with a joyful spirit, glad to celebrate Christ's birth and to deliver Kane safely home.
"Okay?" Rodd called to her from where he sat on his snowmobile in front of her grandfather's machine shed.
Grinning, she waved her hand, and he started off with Kane behind him on his snowmobile. Wendy followed on her grandfather's machine, swishing over the snow. The wind whistled inside her helmet, filling her ears with a constant hum. They headed to the fence line that would lead them to Kane's trailer.
They swerved in and out around the drifts piled over and under the wooden fence posts. Despite the frigid cold, speeding over the snow exhilarated her. In some places, the county road opened up, but huge drifts several feet high and long blocked other parts of the road. They passed Kane's truck; only the antenna and part of the windshield were visible. The rest had been buried by snow. Seeing the aftermath of the storm awed her. Such power unleashed, but God had kept them safe through the night.
Wendy had checked on Kane hourly all night. No sign of concussion or more serious injury had developed. His banged-up face was purple, and his bruised ribs were very sore. He could have been killed driving drunk like that. He'd been very lucky, blessed, even though Rodd fully intended to cite him for drunk driving. Wendy agreed. Kane had to be held accountable if he was ever going to turn his life around.
Farther up the road, they swerved into the lane to Kane's trailer. Ahead, the tan double-wide appeared to be wearing a white shawl of snow. They parked as near as they could to the door. The black metal landing outside the front door had been cleared of snow, and a red snow shovel had been stuck into the drift at one side
Rodd got off and plowed his way through the knee-high snow and retrieved the shovel. He attacked the snow heaped over the steps to the trailer. Wendy watched, reveling in Rodd's strength and his willingness to serve.
Inside, a dog began barking, and Kane's family appeared at the storm door. The two small children pressed their faces against the glass, while their mother stood behind them, holding an infant. Kane slowly dismounted from the snowmobile and lumbered toward his family. "Merry Christmas, kids!" he called out with a smile.
As the children jumped up and down, Wendy burst into a smile too. Inside, she shouted, Merry Christmas. Joy to the world. Jesus Christ is born.
Just as Rodd finished clearing a path to the door for Kane, Wendy's cell phone rang. She lifted her helmet and brought the phone from her belt to her ear.
"Wendy," Old Doc's strident voice asked, "where are you?"
"Merry Christmas to you too, Doc. We just took Kane Thorpe home. What do you need?"
"Old Schultz on Grass Road took a fall trying to shovel a path to his barn. Can you get to him by snowmobile? After his recent heart flare-up, I want him looked at to see if shoveling snow has done more to him than just sprain his ankle."
"Are his nephew and family there for the holiday?" she asked.
"Yes, so if it's nothing serious, you can leave him in their care."
"Great. How are the roads around town?"
"We're still buried. No electricity. No phone. Our emergency generator is keeping us going at the clinic. But it will probably be a few days before the power's on and the county's dug out. They're working on the highway now. We broke all records for snowfall and wind gusts."
"And I'm so delighted to hear that," she teased.
"Okay, smarty, get to Schultz's. Call me and tell me what you find. Merry Christmas. Ho, ho, ho!" Old Doc hung up.
From the trailer doorway, Kane shouted his thanks to Wendy. She waved at the Thorpes and wished them "Merry Christmas!" The beaming family waved back, then shut the door.
Rodd slogged toward her. "Who called?"
She filled him in on her next call.
"I'll come with you."
She didn't demur. Though the snow had stopped falling and the wind had stilled, bitter cold held them in its icy grip. Today was not a day for going out alone. She hoped all her patients remembered that.
Schultz'
s place lay a few miles to the south past the Kainzes'. She turned her vehicle and headed down the fence line to the county road, with Rodd following. Since Kane was safely home, her mood lightened even more. Snow swished up behind her as the 'bile ate up the miles.
When she crested a rolling hill, she idled her motor and got off. The view of the gentle valley with Hunter's Lake was magnificent—tall evergreens wearing fleecy white coats of snow, the illusion of glinting diamonds scattered over the snowy expanse, the wind-sculptured drifts, the serene blue horizon that yesterday had been shrouded with snow clouds. Her heart sang wordless praise to the Creator.
Rodd halted and dismounted too. "It's something, isn't it?"
Delighted to have him beside her to share this special moment, she turned to him with an eager heart. "I never get over how God can take any circumstance and make it beautiful."
Rodd lifted her chin with his hand. "The landscape is lovely, but you are more—"
Wendy tried to interrupt.
"No, let me say this." He paused, gathering his words. "My past failings and Veda's spite aren't going to bother me anymore. I allowed her to have power over me for something that happened nearly thirteen years ago. You've faced her nastiness your whole life and she hasn't stopped you. I won't let her stop me either. I will face her just like you do and give God the victory."
Thankful he'd found peace, Wendy pressed her gloved hand over his. "I'm glad. Just accept the fact that she will do anything she can to derail your investigation. She wants the Weasel to win because she wants to see you fail. With God's help, I know you can solve this case."
He leaned close to her face. "I wish you weren't wearing that mask."
She glanced up into his eyes but saw only his helmet, face mask, and sunglasses. "Why?"
"Because I want to kiss you."
Her pulse sped up and a warm glow blossomed inside her. No one had ever said that to her before—not like this. She leaned toward him.
He lifted off his sunglasses, helmet, and face mask, then stopped her from doing the same. With a feather light touch, he lifted off hers. Then he pressed his cheek to hers and drew her into an embrace.
The chill of the tranquil winter air made the warmth of their meeting sharp and so exquisite that Wendy feared to take a deep breath, afraid she might shatter their connection.
He turned his face; his body-warmed, white breath puffed against her lips. She felt herself blush in spite of the frosty temperature.
"I better make this quick or we'll freeze into an ice sculpture, titled no doubt Frozen Couple by Lake." His mouth swooped down and captured hers.
It was an easy conquest. She forgot everything but the tender touch of his persuasive lips, the experience of being connected to the man she loved. As the thought registered in her mind, shock zinged through her. I'm in love.
She pulled away.
He chuckled. "You're right. We've stayed here long enough And lucky us, we get to go wish Leo Schultz, one of Steadfast's most charming residents, Merry Christmas. What are we waiting for?"
Though she reached to take her gear from his hand, he silently insisted on replacing her mask, glasses, and helmet, and he did so with surpassing care. His tenderness heightened her sensitivity to him. This is dangerous. I thought I knew what my future was going to he. Is my life about to change forever?
Then he returned to his snowmobile and started off slowly, letting her catch up to him. The glittering white landscape broadened out into pastures, so Wendy came abreast of him. The snow sprayed up behind them in a white wake as they sped toward Schultz's property. Hearing their two motors surging and buzzing together gave her a new feeling of freedom, of joy. The moment was too precious to be analyzed. She gave herself up to the experience.
Soon they pulled up in front of Schultz's farmhouse, back to reality, to their duty. Wendy and Rodd dismounted and headed for the door. A path had been dug through a drift that had previously blocked the rear entrance. Rodd called out his name and Wendy's and opened the unlocked door. Today wasn't a day for formalities.
Inside, Schultz sat at the kitchen table, looking grumpier than usual. His nephew and wife stood nearby, obviously concerned. "Good morning," Wendy greeted everyone after pulling off her helmet, sunglasses, face mask, and gloves. "Doc called and said I should check you out—"
"I just took a fall. Why is everyone making a federal case out of a sprained ankle?" the old man blustered.
Wendy only smiled. She pulled off her backpack of medical supplies and set it on the table. Quickly she checked the older man's pulse and blood pressure, listened to his heart, and took his temperature.
"It's my ankle that's paining me." he complained.
Wendy chuckled. "I'm ready to look at that now." When she knelt down, Rodd's phone rang. He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
"Durand here," he answered.
As Wendy gently examined her patient's ankle, she hoped Rodd's call wasn't anything serious. Though she didn't want to, she kept glancing over her shoulder, keeping an eye on his reaction to the call. Rodd put the phone back on his belt and she stood up. "Do you have to be somewhere?" she asked him.
"No, just dispatch calling. Two of my deputies borrowed snowmobiles and are checking the main county roads for stranded vehicles. So far everything looks good except that the road crews are making such slow progress."
"Good."
After Wendy finished her examination, she stepped into the adjacent dining-room doorway and called Doc to report Schultz's vitals. While she talked quietly on the cell phone, she watched and tried to listen to the exchange in the kitchen.
"So old Veda got you between her crosshairs?" Schultz growled at Rodd.
Wendy held her breath. Would Schultz undo all her work?
Rodd eyed the man. "You mean that letter?"
"Yeah, you gonna let that old battle-ax get under your skin?" The man glared at Rodd while his nephew and wife looked ill at ease.
Rodd cocked his head to one side. "I've dealt with the mob. One sour old woman's not going to bother me."
Schultz let out a bark of laughter. "Good for you."
Wendy rejoiced in silence.
"Is Uncle going to be all right?" the nephew asked her.
Stepping back in the kitchen, Wendy nodded. "Doc said your uncle should be fine. Just apply cold to the ankle for these first twenty-four hours, then the next twenty-four alternate between cold and moist heat."
"Thanks for coming out." Schultz's nephew shook her hand. "I didn't want to take any chances. He snuck out while I was in the shower. Then he looked so red in the face from shoveling. We were worried."
Wendy pointed her finger at Schultz and shook it. "No more shoveling."
Schultz rumbled at her, "How could I shovel? I can't even walk."
"Good. Take your medicine as usual and you should be fine." She bid the family a "Merry Christmas," and she and Rodd left.
Outside in the crisp brilliant sunshine again, Wendy straddled her snowmobile, started it, and followed Rodd down the lane. The miles back to her grandfather's house flew by. In spite of sparse sleep the night before, she was refreshed by the beauty of the sparkling morning.
Over and over, the sensation of Rodd's lips on hers heated her from head to toe. She'd let him kiss her twice now. And she had kissed him back. Her decision to remain single must have changed, but...she felt strange, new, not like herself at all. She wanted to dance, to sing, to roll in the snow and shout with laughter. She couldn't regret the kisses. Lord, what's happening to me, to us?
Rodd and Wendy arrived back at Harlan's house in time to wash up with water from the kettle on the stove and sit down to Christmas dinner. Sometime early in the morning Harlan's electricity had gone out. With Wendy beside him, Rodd sat down to an improvised feast of steaks pulled out of the freezer and broiled on the propane grill on the back porch, salad, cloverleaf rolls and pumpkin pie, which Ma had baked yesterday.
During the meal, Rodd thought over what he and Wendy
had shared last night and this morning.
Snapshots of Wendy kept popping into his mind—her singing carols beside him, her concern for Ma the very first day they'd met, her walking bravely into Flanagan's to deliver Thanksgiving dinner. He'd been very attracted to other women he'd dated, but those women had been so very different from Wendy. None had ranked as high as she in his regard. He'd given up thinking about marriage years ago. He'd told himself he just wasn't the marrying kind.
After last night, Wendy had healed his guilt over the botched crime scene years ago Was he falling in love with Wendy ? I must be. Otherwise I wouldn't have kissed her.
