An Angel For Christmas. Heather Graham

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СКАЧАТЬ the office. “The goddamn cable is down!” he said irritably.

      “Mike! It’s Christmas. For the love of God—watch your language!” Stacy said.

      “Mom, Dad, please, both of you!” Morwenna murmured.

      “Dad, you don’t need the cops anyway—he is a cop,” Shayne said.

      “Likely story!” Mike said.

      “Mike!” Stacy gasped.

      “Dad!” Shayne and Morwenna said in unison.

      They didn’t deter their father at all. He turned on Gabe Lange. “I have a shotgun in this house, and I know how to use it. I’m a district attorney in Philadelphia, young man, and I know my way around crooks. And if you’re a cop, where’s your gun? Eh? Where’s your uniform?”

      “My gun was lost quickly—I try never to use firearms. Innocent people get hurt as often as the bad guys, so it seems. But, yeah, I carry a weapon. Now it’s gone, somewhere in a bush halfway up the mountainside,” Gabe said. “Look, sir, I’m not here to hurt anyone, I swear it!”

      “And so the devil swears!” Mike muttered, and walked away.

      “Sorry, the lawyer side of my husband is always angry. But he’s a really good man,” Stacy told Gabe Lange. Then, she suddenly thrust her hand forward. “I’m Stacy, my husband is Mike. Your real live doctor is Shayne, and this is our daughter, Morwenna. She’s an artist and advertising exec. She took business as well as art. Don’t you think that was incredibly smart? She is able to use her talent and keep a job, and—”

      “Mom!” Morwenna said, interrupting her quickly. She glared at her mother, meaning, Let’s not just air the family laundry.

      “He doesn’t need a dossier on all of us!” she added and laughed to soften the statement. “To finish the introductions in the family, my little brother is Bobby, and Shayne’s kids are named Connor and Genevieve. Welcome to our home for Christmas. I’m so sorry about what happened to you. Won’t your family be worried?”

      Gabe looked away from her for a moment. “I have a huge extended family, but my immediate family wasn’t expecting me. They’ll be fine without me—there’s a lot of work that goes on tonight. I’m grateful that you’ve taken me in.”

      Shayne squeezed his shoulder. “I would be happier if you were in a hospital,” he said.

      Gabe pushed back the blanket and sat up, despite Shayne’s protests. “I’m not even dizzy anymore. I swear,” he said. “I’m not sure I’d want to hit the ring for a few bouts or anything, but I’m doing fine.”

      “Then sit.”

      “I’m sitting,” Gabe said.

      His teeth began to chatter.

      Shayne brought out his little light, and told Gabe to follow the beam. He inspected their guest’s eyes with a serious expression, then let out a sigh and shrugged. “Your pupils are showing no signs of a possible problem.”

      “He’s fine, but he’s freezing,” Morwenna said. “He must be soaked.”

      “Oh, how very rude of us,” Stacy said. She looked at her oldest son. “Shayne, there must still be jeans and T’s and flannel shirts up in your room. Can you loan something to Mr. Lange?”

      “Gabe, please,” their visitor insisted. “I am on your sofa.”

      “Of course.” Shayne seemed troubled, but he shook his head. “We’ll head up to my old room. You can get out of those wet clothes, take a shower and then put on something dry and warm.”

      “That would be great. My most sincere gratitude to you all,” Gabe said.

      “I’ll give you a hand getting up,” Shayne said. “Use the banister—I’ll support you on the other side.”

      Morwenna hovered, watching as they started up the stairs. “Great kids,” Gabe told Shayne.

       He didn’t ask about their mother; somehow, Shayne volunteered information.

      “Yes, they’re great kids. They’ve stayed that way through the divorce,” Shayne said.

      “Most important thing to remember in a divorce—your children still have you both as parents, the people they love most in the world. I’m glad to hear that you and your ex are respecting one another. You should be proud.”

      Morwenna didn’t get to hear her brother’s answer; they were already up the stairs.

      Her father emerged from the kitchen, a glass in his hand.

      “What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

      “Honestly, Mike, it’s Christmas!” Stacy said.

      “Shayne is giving him something to wear that isn’t soaked with snow,” Morwenna said.

      “I’m getting the shotgun,” Mike said. “I just don’t trust that guy. I’m going to have it on hand at all times.”

      Genevieve, unsurprisingly for her age, was not an ace at wrapping packages. In a few instances when he didn’t cut the paper quickly enough, she cut pieces that were too small. Small items, stocking stuffers, were wrapped in enough paper to conceal a small elephant.

      “Wow, there’s a lot of stuff here!” Connor told Bobby, his eyes wide. Then they clouded. “I guess we won’t get much here,” he added.

      “We won’t get presents?” Genevieve asked.

      “Of course you’ll get presents,” Bobby told him.

      But Connor shook his head knowingly. “We did get presents, Genevieve. Remember? Daddy and Gram and all sent them before, and we opened them at home.” He looked at his uncle apologetically. “We got good presents, Uncle Bobby. Gram likes to give presents, huh—is that why there are so many here?”

      “Gram has always loved to make everyone a stocking,” Bobby said, “including Gramps. But I wouldn’t worry—you’ll get presents.”

      “Yes!” Genevieve said. She had a little lisp. Her front tooth was loose. “Santa Claus will come here, right?”

      Shayne knew that Connor didn’t believe in Santa Claus, so he brought a finger to his lips and winked.

      “That’s right. And Santa Claus can find any house,” he assured Genevieve.

      Connor rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

      Shayne poked his head in the doorway. “Hey, Bobby, thanks. Want to take over in my room for a minute?”

      “Sure. Take over what?”

      “Watching our—guest. The guy we picked up—Gabe—is freezing. The snow soaked through his clothing. I’ve got him in my room, but I need you to stand by the door while I dig in my closet for something for him to wear.”

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