A Ranger For The Holidays

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“See,” she said as she unlocked the car, “the best antidote for your own troubles is to help someone else with theirs.”

He eased himself into the car with a wince; his ribs evidently still hurt him. “I haven’t done a thing to help you with any of that.”

“Yes, you have. You listened. And you laughed, so I know I’m not the only one who thinks this whole thing is crazy.”

“Anyone with any sense at all would laugh at that crazy idea.”

She pointed a teasing finger at him. “Don’t you dare say that in front of Lizzie.”

“Sure, boss, whatever you say.”

Before she put the car in gear, she gave Finn a direct look. “Am I right, do you feel better? Even the tiniest bit?”

His boyish grin was all too charming. “Sort of.”

“Well, you look less like Scrooge than you did ten minutes ago. That’s got to count for something.” The tension had eased in his shoulders, and most of his scowl was gone. Stealing a glance while she pulled the car out of the parking lot, Amelia wondered what Finn would look like happy. He was a handsome sort even down-and-out—all that dark glossy hair and those stunning blue eyes made brooding a good look on his features. Well and happy, she didn’t doubt he’d be a heart-slayer. Based on what she’d already seen, if Finn revived confidence, he’d command a room.

If they could retrieve one tiny detail. The article she’d read said taste, smell and music had some of the most powerful abilities to reawaken brain functions. People who couldn’t manage speech could often sing. Alzheimer’s patients who couldn’t recall their spouses could remember how to play instruments. The trouble was, most of the tastes and scents and sounds around them now were about Christmas, and that was as much of a hindrance as a help for Finn. They’d already used a gift card provided by the hospital to get Finn some basics like a few changes of clothes and soap. There must be something on her to-do list that Finn could help her accomplish.

“We’re going to the candy store. Is that okay?”

“Candy?”

“I have to buy candy to fill the stockings for the League Christmas party. I want the good stuff, not just anything from the supermarket. Can you help?” He looked a bit tired, but she didn’t think sitting at home with Gramps watching game shows was going to do him any good, either.

“Is this another of your ‘let’s find things you like’ experiments?”

She chose his earlier response. “Sort of. I mean, you might. But I really do need to get this done and I really could use the help.”

“Don’t you have to get home to Luther?”

She liked that he had taken to Gramps. They were good for each other in a way she couldn’t quite yet explain. “We’ll be home by suppertime easily. And quite frankly, if I have to tell Gramps his granddaughter is planning a circus wedding, I want some of his favorite butterscotch to soften the blow. And I always give a big basket of candy to Lucy and the sheriff’s office every Christmas, so we can take care of that, too.” She hesitated a moment before asking, “Do you still feel like maybe you are in some kind of law-enforcement field?”

Finn settled back in his seat. “As much as I know anything. Only it doesn’t help much. Texas could have thousands of law-enforcement officers my age and height. Police, private security, Rangers, FBI—without a name there’s no good way to search.”

“Can’t they run Finn?”

“Dr. Searle had someone try. It’s unusual enough that it would pop, but nothing. We both think it’s a nickname, but that’s no help, either.”

“Something will come back to you. Or we’ll find some detail that leads us to another. You’ve got to keep your hope strong.”

“And you think butterscotch is the key to that?” He managed a small smile at that, and she was glad for it.

“Well, no, but I don’t see how it could hurt.”

* * *

“What kind of a fool scheme is that?” Luther waved the serving spoon in the air so hard at dinner that night that Finn fought the urge to duck away from airborne mashed potatoes. Amelia had elected to wait until dinner to reveal Lizzie’s crazy wedding plans, which Finn thought as good a strategy as any.

He wasn’t sure it worked. Luther’s reaction to the circus theme was just about as stunned as Finn’s own response. Amelia had laid it out in even greater detail than she had to him. A regrettable choice, he thought—it only got worse with the elaboration.

“My granddaughter’s getting married at a circus?” Luther balked.

“A circus-themed wedding. There’s a difference.” Amelia was trying to champion Lizzie’s absurd idea, but if Finn could see right through Amelia’s forced support, surely Luther could, as well.

“Not how I see it.” Luther snorted. Finn sent Amelia a “hang in there” look. “Why on earth didn’t you stop her?”

“She couldn’t choose a color scheme to save her life. Somehow when I said the word circus, it all just clicked for her.” Finn watched Amelia run a fork through her potatoes, the air of a doomed woman coming through her false smile. “Believe me, it wasn’t my intent to suggest an actual circus at all. She latched on to the idea, and evidently Boone loves it. Lizzie wants it to be memorable.”