Silent Night in Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad

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      When she had heard the angel everyone talked about was coming to Dry Creek, she hadn’t expected someone so solidly…well, male. Now that she was sitting, she could see the snug way his jeans fit along his thigh. Maybe he still had his leg in a cast that she couldn’t see because of his jeans. No one had that much muscle, especially not someone willing to fly around on a rope. He shifted his leg slightly and she realized she was staring.

      “Sorry,” she muttered. “It’s just I thought you’d look more like a ballet dancer. Because of the angel thing.”

      He shot her an incredulous look. “I was eleven.”

      She felt the heat of his indignant glare all the way down her spine.

      “It’s nothing. I was just wondering what kind of legs you had when you used those pulleys. Of course, your legs weren’t so—so—” Jasmine felt herself blush. She hadn’t blushed in years so she cleared her throat. “Well, the point is people are still talking about when you made your swing overhead. You had to be graceful. And your legs—well, I thought maybe you did something special with them as you made the swing. You know—the way you pointed your toes. That kind of thing. Really, I was just hoping you could give me some tips.”

      She didn’t want to mention the sparkler idea. But even a clue as to the real part the angel played would be welcomed. Jasmine couldn’t believe that all she was supposed to do was wave her wings over the shepherds and say a few words. Everything was too plain. She was coming to know a God who parted the seas and thundered from the rocks. He wouldn’t have announced the birth of His Son without some drama.

      “I didn’t have much sense back then,” Wade finally said reluctantly. “You should ask someone else for help.”

      “Oh.” Jasmine said. He must have done something very special if he was so closemouthed about it. But, if he wouldn’t tell her anything, how was she supposed to give a performance that surpassed, or at least equaled, his?

      There was a moment’s silence.

      “How’s everything at the hardware store?” the sheriff finally said a little too cheerfully. “I bet they’re doing good business even in these hard times.”

      “I don’t know.” Jasmine didn’t want to show her disappointment in Wade’s response so she was glad the sheriff had started a new conversation. She turned to look at him. “There was a sale on nails. No one was buying, though.”

      “Things will pick up,” the sheriff added. He seemed to be struggling with his words, although she couldn’t imagine why. “People just need to be patient in these hard economic times.”

      Jasmine nodded. The pastor had asked for prayer for the store last Sunday. “I buy as much as I can there.”

      She tried to do everything that was mentioned in church, including the things that cost her money.

      The sheriff turned a little more so she could see his face even though the other man couldn’t. Then he winked at her. “There’s no need to say anything to the people at the store about the hard times—they might be embarrassed.”

      “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Carl,” the other man spoke out. His eyes were smoldering and his jaw was clenched. “You don’t need to warn people not to say anything to me. Everybody knows I’m the one who is supposed to get the handout. The people of Dry Creek just can’t leave well enough alone.”

      Jasmine wondered how anyone had ever thought that man could be an angel. He might not even be suited to being the innkeeper, and that role was written for a surly actor.

      “You should be grateful someone cares enough to help you.” Jasmine refused to listen to any complaint about her friends in the church here. They were perfect—every one of them.

      Although, she had to admit, they might have misjudged on this one. The man before her didn’t look like someone who needed a handout. She had pictured him with the watery, timid eyes of someone who was ashamed of needing help. Instead, he almost bristled with pride. And, here she’d contributed six perfectly good dollars to the collection for him.

      “I haven’t taken a handout since I was a kid,” the man said, and then pressed his lips together. “No reason to start again now.”

      “Well, I’m sure you can work enough to earn it if you want,” Jasmine said. “There are still some parts left in the pageant. King Herod, for one. And you could coach me if you would just unbend a little and relax about it.”

      The man grunted. “Unbend? You should be worrying about things breaking instead of them bending. The church should get one of those mannequins to swing around up there for an angel.”

      Jasmine blinked. “A mannequin can’t proclaim anything.”

      He shrugged. “Well, it’s your funeral.”

      He wasn’t suggesting it was dangerous, was he? She’d seen the pulley system; it was sturdy enough to swing an elephant across the barn.

      The man’s face didn’t change, but he did lift his coffee cup for a drink.

      Jasmine bit back her words. He was nothing like she’d expected. She wondered if God had sent him to her as some kind of a test. She secretly thought God should be a little choosier about who He let into His family, so she couldn’t fault Him if He wanted to see what she would do when provoked.

      “Wade here is Clarence Sutton’s grandson,” the sheriff finally said in the silence.

      Jasmine summoned up a polite smile and looked at the man. “You must be staying out with your grandfather then.”

      “Not likely.” The man’s eyes flared for a second and then turned cold.

      Apparently that scowl ran in the family along with his rather anti-social attitude. No one could accuse the elder Mr. Sutton of being neighborly, either. He lived next door to her father and the men had feuded for years. Still, Jasmine kept the smile on her face.

      “He’ll be spending the night at my place,” the sheriff injected smoothly. “I expect he’d like to see some of the countryside while he’s here, though. I figure he might as well drive out and pick you up for dinner. If that’s all right?”

      The sheriff smiled again.

      “Oh, he doesn’t need to do that.” She wanted to talk to the man about the role of the angel, but she could do that in a few minutes. She didn’t need any more time with him than was necessary, especially since he was so disagreeable. And arrogant. A man like him would probably think he was on a date with her if he drove her anywhere.

      “You can’t be riding that motorcycle at night,” the sheriff continued. “I’d have to ticket you for not having your backlights working and Barbara would be upset with me. It could ruin the whole dinner. Besides, it might rain. Riding with Wade will at least keep you dry.”

      Everyone was quiet again.

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