Bodyguard For Christmas. Carol J. Post

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       THREE

      A single lamp burned in the living room, its glow not quite reaching the far corners of the space. The fire that had blazed in the fireplace earlier that evening had long since turned to ash.

      Colton sat in the overstuffed chair, silent and alone. How many hours had Mandy occupied this exact spot, curled up in an afghan, an open book in her lap? This had been her favorite place to read.

      Now he’d taken over her spot. Except his reading wasn’t for pleasure. A bulging expandable folder sat on the end table next to him, and a bound document occupied his lap. It was the deposition of a store clerk held up at gunpoint.

      He flipped the last page, then closed the plastic binder. When he’d slid it back into the expandable folder, he removed the next item for review.

      Tomorrow was Friday, the end of his first week back at the Cherokee County district attorney’s office. After almost losing his son, nothing could have kept him in Atlanta. But he’d been blessed that someone was leaving his old office and he’d been able to step immediately into a job. After his extended leave of absence, his savings account was reaching dangerously low levels.

      He opened the next piece of discovery, then let his gaze drift to the front wall. Curtains covered all the lower windows, but beyond the edge of the hemlock outside, stars were visible through some of the high trapezoid-shaped windows.

      Liam had been in bed for some time. So had Jasmine. Since it was nearing midnight, that was where he should be. Eventually he’d head there—when he was beyond exhaustion and the blessed oblivion of sleep was within reach.

      God is in control. It was a fact he’d known since age fifteen. But for the past six months, he’d had to recite those four words again and again. Even more in the past week. Unfortunately, all the reminders didn’t seem to penetrate those inner spaces where peace resided. His world had fallen apart, and he hadn’t been able to regain his footing.

      With a sigh, he lowered his eyes to the document in his lap. Sometime later, he stuffed the pages he’d been reading into the folder and rose from the chair. He couldn’t say he’d reached the point of exhaustion, but if he stayed up much later, he’d be worthless tomorrow.

      When he turned off the light, a faint glow shone from the partially open door off the side of the kitchen. Burning a night-light was the only way he could get Liam to sleep. If it bothered Jasmine, she hadn’t mentioned it.

      He padded silently in that direction, then paused at the open door. Liam lay in the small bed at the far side of the room, eyes closed and thumb in his mouth. A thin curtain of wispy blond hair had fallen over one side of his face. His mouth moved in a series of sucking motions, then again grew still.

      Colton drew in a shaky breath. Love swelled inside him, mingled with a sadness that pierced his heart. He was trying his hardest to be both mother and father. But as he’d watched his little boy retreat further into himself, he’d known it wasn’t enough.

      He started to turn away, then hesitated. He’d wanted to keep Liam with him during the night, but Jasmine wouldn’t hear of it. She’d said she wouldn’t risk someone again tranquilizing the dog, then slipping in to whisk Liam away while she slept in another room. She was the security expert, so he’d given in, even though he didn’t like it. Having his son sleeping on the opposite side of the house upset every protective instinct he possessed.

      But opposite side of the house wasn’t as bad as it sounded. The two bedroom doors were less than twenty feet apart, Liam’s off the side of the kitchen, his off the opposite side of the living room. The house was also equipped with a security system now. According to Jasmine, Tri State had finished the installation at three that afternoon.

      Poking his head into the room, he sought out the other bed, against the wall to his right. Jasmine was curled on her side, back toward the wall, blanket tucked under her chin. Instead of resting in its usual soft layers, her short hair jutted outward in disarray, as if she’d done some tossing and turning.

      One hand lay near her face. But it wasn’t relaxed and open. Instead, her fingers were curled into a fist. СКАЧАТЬ