The Lawman's Christmas Wish

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Jenny Michaels, the pastor’s friendly wife, chuckled. “If you think this is noise, stop by the day care sometime.”

Reed allowed a half smile. Mrs. Michaels, in her mid-forties, with short, coifed blond hair, a moderate overbite, and a pair of reading glasses hanging around her neck, was known in town as a kind, gentle woman with a passion for children’s ministry. She also ran the church’s day-care center and preschool. Amy’s kids attended the center. “Amy here yet?”

If the reverend’s wife thought it odd that he asked after Amy James, she didn’t react. Instead, she glanced at her watch. “Running late. Must have gotten delayed at the office.”

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.

“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 and badge and unidentifiable service pins. Reed Truscott was a handsome man in a rugged kind of way.

Amy’s stomach fluttered. She tried to blame the reaction on the bulge of what could only be a gun at Reed’s side. A weapon in church didn’t seem right.

One thing for sure, she needn’t worry about the thieves if he was around. Reed would take care of her and the rest of Treasure Creek. It was, as he constantly reminded her, his duty.

“Amy?”

Relieved at the distraction, Amy turned toward the female voice coming from above.

A troubled face, surrounded by bouncy red ringlets, looked down at her from the top of the stairs.

“Delilah! I didn’t know you were here. Why aren’t you rehearsing with the choir?”

In Ugg boots, snug jeans and a sheepskin vest, Delilah was fashion personified, though not nearly as high fashion as she’d once been. She and the other women who’d come to Treasure Creek were quickly learning that high fashion and Alaskan winters didn’t jive all that well.

The petite young woman shrugged. “I don’t really feel like singing tonight.”

Though she usually put on a happy face, Delilah was a new Christian, and she still struggled with feelings of self-worth. Though they were close in age and very similar in size and looks, Amy felt eons older than Delilah, and had taken it upon herself to mentor and encourage her new friend. She trotted up the stairs. “Want to talk about it?”

Delilah gazed around at the chaos of people discussing, stringing lights and speakers, and setting up props, all of them clamoring for Amy’s input. “Do you have time?”

Amy made a face. “We’ll make time. Come on. Let’s grab a cup of hot chocolate.” To the working masses, she called, “Be back in a bit. You guys know what to do.”

“Sure, Amy,” someone hollered. “We’ve got you covered.”

The notion warmed her heart. This little town pulled together. They did have her covered.

She and Delilah maneuvered the stairs again, this time heading down. As they reached the side door and were exiting the sanctuary, Amy glanced back to see Nate talking to Reed. Good. He didn’t notice her. It would be embarrassing to have the town police chief follow her around the church like a bodyguard.

Concerned about what could be troubling Delilah, she put Reed out of her mind and headed through the exit and down the long hallway toward the fellowship hall, which did double duty as an all-purpose room. Sammy and his faithful Puppy trailed along, holding her hand. She stopped at the children’s church and urged him to go inside. The noise and activity of half a dozen playing, laughing children drew him in, and before she closed the door, Amy saw the nursery worker lift Sammy onto her lap and open a book. Sammy loved stories. He would be okay for a while.