Linda Goodnight – The Lawman's Christmas Wish (страница 8)

A frisson of alarm skittered along Reed’s nerve endings. It was past seven and dark as pitch outside. Amy had no business being out there alone. When he’d asked earlier in the day, she’d told him she would be here tonight, directing the Christmas pageant just as she was every Tuesday night at seven. She’d also added the oft-repeated invitation for him to join the festivities. So here he was, though not to join the festivities, but to keep an eye on a certain redhead who didn’t comprehend the threat to her safety.

“She should be here by now.” He reached for his cell phone and began stabbing numbers.

Mrs. Michaels lightly touched his arm. “There she is.”

Sure enough, Amy, flanked by her sons, blew through the door like a swift, fresh breeze. Reed’s chest clutched. He jammed his cell phone into his pocket and stalked toward her. “Are you all right?”

Amy ground to a halt in the entry between the foyer and the sanctuary. “Reed! What a surprise. I’m glad you could make it.”

From the expression in her amused blue eyes, Amy suspected his presence at the church was not for spiritual reasons. She was right. He was here to keep an eye on her. And she wasn’t cooperating.

Before he could find out why she was late, someone called her name. He glanced up to see Penelope Lear bending over a large cardboard box. “Amy, come look at the shepherds’ costumes Bethany made. They’re so cute.”

“Be right there.”

Before she could move, Renee Haversham came rushing toward her, trailing an electrical cord. “Amy, one of the microphones shorted out. What are we going to do?”

While she was talking to Renee, Joleen Jones appeared. Joleen was one of the newcomers, her overdone makeup and big hair a dead giveaway that Alaska was not her native land. She was a silly thing, jumping on every man in sight. Reed had an urge to run every time they met.

“Amy, Greg has the flu. Can I have his solo part? I’ve been practicing. Listen. ‘Fear not, for behold,’” Joleen’s high-pitched, annoying voice rose as she dramatically threw one arm high into the air. “‘I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.’”

“Wonderful, Joleen. Really. But let’s just pray that Greg will recover by then. We have more than three weeks.”

Joleen looked a little crestfallen, but didn’t argue.

In a matter of seconds, Amy was surrounded by people, all asking questions or announcing problems for her to solve.

“Amy, who’s doing the programs?”

“Check with Nadine on those. She agreed to type them up.”

“I asked her already. She has conjunctivitis. Can’t use the computer.”

“I’ll take care of them. Don’t worry.”

“Amy, the silver glitter is on back order.”

“I’ll talk to Harry. Maybe he can get it somewhere else.”

Reed watched in wonder as Amy fielded each concern with equal aplomb, all the while working her way down the aisle, away from him and toward the front, where yet another army of pageant participants waited.

He’d thought she needed protection from the treasure thieves, but now he wondered if she couldn’t use a bodyguard here at church. Even with her antlike energy, the woman had to get tired.

A small, sturdy body slammed into his lower leg. Small arms twined around his kneecap. He glanced down into the serious gray eyes of Amy’s older son.

“Chief Reed, are you going to be in the pageant? Mama said you’d make a great Joseph.”

Why would she say a weird thing like that? The only time he’d been in a Christmas program, he’d been ten years old and the director had cast him as an angel, complete with halo. The only reason he’d done it was the bag of candy waiting when the program ended. Well, candy and Granny Crisp. That was the last time he could remember attending church. After that, his father dragged him off to the Aleutians and a rough fisherman’s way of life. Granny Crisp said he needed to get his spiritual house in order, but—well, churches made him uncomfortable. Like now, when a small boy with Ben’s cleft chin was clinging to his leg like a barnacle. He never knew what to say to kids, so he simply rested one hand on the boy’s hair. Had his own hair, now coarse and springy, ever been that fine?

“Chief Reed?”

“What?” Reed said absently as he scanned the room for Amy. The tiny redhead stood on the dais, arms gesturing, trying to direct the group into their places. She looked like a red ant trying to control a herd of sheep. A really pretty red ant.

“Where’s Cy?”

“In the truck.”

“Why?”

Reed glanced down. “His feet are wet.”

“Yours, too,” the boy said, looking pointedly at Reed’s glistening boots.

Strike one. Try again. “No dogs in church.”

Dexter’s gray eyes blinked, then widened, his voice aghast. “Doesn’t Jesus like dogs?”

“Sure He does.” I guess. I mean, how would I know?

“Then why won’t He let Cy come in the church?”

Reed cast around for an answer that would satisfy the inquisitive child and keep himself out of hot water with Amy. If he told Dexter that Jesus didn’t like dogs, she’d skin him alive. Besides, he knew very little about Jesus’s likes and dislikes. Other than sin. He knew Jesus was nice to people and didn’t approve of sin. Dexter adored both Cy and Jesus. No use causing conflict. “Loud music hurts his ears.”

“Jesus’s ears?”

Holding back a grin, Reed said, “Cy’s. A dog’s ears are very sensitive.”

“Oh. Can I pet Cy after practice?”

“Sure. Anytime.”

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.