The Lawman's Christmas Wish. Linda Goodnight

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      Apparently satisfied, Dexter loosened his grip on Reed’s thigh and meandered away toward his younger brother, who’d taken up with Casey Donner. Casey, ever the rough-and-tumble tomboy, had scooped up the smallest James child and was toting him around on her back. Reed could rest easy as long as they were with Casey. She’d wrestle a charging moose for one of those boys.

      “Come on up front and sit down, Chief Truscott.” Mrs. Michaels was back, smiling her serene, toothy smile. “The choir will get started in a minute. Amy’s put together a lovely program this year.”

      Feeling as out of place as a walrus, Reed nodded politely and moved toward the front. He could keep a better eye on Amy this way. Instead of slipping into one of the pews, he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

      Ethan Eckles, a talented musician who taught school and worked as a part-time guide for Amy, struck a chord on the piano, and the noise in the room ceased.

      The quiet was short-lived.

      Chapter Four

      Amy was acutely aware of Reed Truscott staring at her from across the room. She could practically feel his dark eyes lasering through the back of her Christmas-green cable knit. He didn’t fool her one bit. He’d never so much as darkened the doors of this church, and now, there he was, looking as dangerous and rugged as the Chilkoot, filling up the room with his protective presence. When was he going to get the message that she could take care of herself? She disliked being someone’s responsibility—especially his.

      Her conscience pinched. Sorry, Lord, she thought. I’m glad he’s here, no matter the reason. Forgive me for being so prickly.

      It was true. Being around Reed disturbed her. Regardless of her protestations to the contrary, she had the insane urge to be close to him. All that terse, macho protectiveness was beginning to feel…nice.

      But if she let him know, he’d start up with his ridiculous, condescending proposal again, reminding her that he didn’t love her, but that he’d promised Ben.

      “Mommy?” Sammy’s little voice broke through her thoughts. He and the other children not in the program were supposed to be in the children’s room, playing games. “Can I stay up here by you?”

      Amy sighed. Ever since the break-in, Sammy had not wanted to be out of her sight. He snuggled tight to her at night and clung during the day. He was sucking his thumb too much again, as well.

      “Chief Reed is here,” she said, knowing instinctively that this would reassure him.

      Her son’s face brightened. “He is? Where?”

      Aware that Reed was watching with his sharp, hawk eyes, she slowly pivoted, turning Sammy with her. She pointed. “Over there. By the wall.” Staring a hole through my back.

      “Can I go stand by him?”

      She wanted to be the one to give her son confidence, but so far she’d failed. “You can stay up here with me. We’re safe, Sammy. The chief is here and so am I.”

      She didn’t like using Reed this way, but she’d do whatever helped her son get over the recent trauma. And she really was glad to see Reed in church, even if he wasn’t here for the right reasons. Being here at all was a start. She and Ben had invited him often, had witnessed their faith to him, and while he was never outright rude, Reed remained quietly resistant, always using his job as an excuse. For once, his job had brought him to God’s house.

      Dragging the black, flop-eared, stuffed Puppy that had seen too many washings, Sammy trudged to the front pew and curled up, his small, booted feet poking off the edge. Maybe he’d go to sleep.

      Satisfied, Amy turned back to the mingling, chattering group assembling in the choir area. Ethan Eckles shuffled pages of sheet music on the piano. Ethan, an elementary school teacher, also worked as a part-time tour guide with her company. Some folks were surprised by the rugged Alaskan’s musical prowess, but Amy wasn’t. There was an artistic side to the man she’d come to know, behind the quiet, brown eyes and chiseled jaw.

      “Ethan, are you ready to get started with choir practice?” As director of the Christmas pageant, Amy organized every single detail, but Ethan directed the choir and played the piano.

      “Delilah’s not here yet. Neither is Harry.”

      Delilah Carrington—though she couldn’t carry a tune in a fishing boat—was normally the first one to arrive and the last one to leave. Since giving her heart to the Lord a few weeks ago, Delilah was an enthusiastic member of the pageant, singing, decorating and even buying props with her own money. For her to be late was odd. Harry Peterson, on the other hand, was never on time. The powerful bass singer would eventually jog in, grumbling about something or someone holding him up at the General Store.

      Lately, he was even grumpier, and Amy suspected Joleen Jones was the reason, although Harry had done his best to drive away the overeager Southern belle. Amy kept hoping both of them would get a double dose of the Christmas spirit.

      “I hope everything is okay,” Amy said. “But we need all the practice we can get to pull this off. We’ll have to start without them.”

      Joleen, bleached platinum hair fluffed like cotton candy and vermillion mouth talking a mile a minute, had already taken her place next to Neville Weeks in the choir. At the mention of Harry’s name, she’d gone silent, one beringed hand pressed against her throat. Amy felt sorry for the woman. Why she adored Harry Peterson was a mystery, but she did. After she’d chased—and alienated—nearly every man in town, the grumpy, pot-bellied proprietor of the town’s general store had won her heart. And broken it.

      Ethan took over, quietly and patiently instructing the choir as if they were a bunch of fidgety elementary students, and the off-key, endearing sounds of Christmas began. Amy had maneuvered the microphones so that the best voices were near the speakers and the worst were in the back, staggering them according to height and voice.

      She made a mental note to check with Pastor Michaels about the choir robes. The old burgundy robes would do fine, if the church could come up with the money to have them cleaned and pressed and to replace the worn, white stoles with new forest-green ones.

      Satisfied that Ethan had the music under control, she headed for the stairs up to the balcony, where the teenagers and several of the men, led by Gage Parker, were setting up lighting. She glanced back to see Sammy trailing her, dragging Puppy.

      Inadvertently, her gaze went to Reed. Sure enough, he was watching. A warm flush slid up the back her neck. Reed pushed off the wall as if to follow her, too. She held up an index finger to stop him. She would not be stalked by the town’s police officer, not even for her own good—especially for her own good.

      Reed’s jaw tightened as he squinted her way. After a silent battle of wills, his chest rose and fell in a huff. He recrossed his arms and leaned back into his place on the wall, though his eyes remained fixed on hers.

      Amy hovered on the stairs, holding Sammy’s hand while the sound of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” swelled around her, the familiar old hymn filling the church and her spirit. Lighted Christmas wreaths ringed the sanctuary walls. One was positioned directly above Reed and set his dark skin aglow. His brown-black hair was mussed from the wind and the ends glistened damply. He’d unsnapped his dark blue service jacket and it hung open to reveal the lean officer’s shirt, complete with patches СКАЧАТЬ