“Dad?” Sophie gave the Christmas bow one last tweak and pushed the red-wrapped gift under her father’s Christmas tree. Purchased years ago by her neat-freak mother, who couldn’t abide a shedding tree, the old artificial pine was losing its luster. Although she’d regret the loss of the familiar, Sophie had always preferred a real tree.
But the tree wasn’t the reason for her visit to the childhood home.
“Hmm?” her dad answered absently. Seated in his favorite chair, he was reading the Redemption Register with a pen in hand ready to work the sudoku puzzle on the back page.
Affection expanded in Sophie’s throat. With glasses perched on his nose and his graying hair mussed, Mark Bartholomew looked every bit the absentminded science professor. Some called him a nerd, a term he didn’t mind in the least. To hear her dad’s opinion, a nerd was a pretty smart guy.
“Can I talk to you about something?”
Newsprint rustled noisily as he closed his paper. “Sounds serious.”
Still on her knees next to the tree, she twisted toward him with a sigh. “It is.”
“I’m all ears.” He patted the arm of his chair and smiled. When she was younger, she and Dad had resolved all her childhood and teenage angst with her perched on the arm of his chair. Not once had he failed to soothe whatever dilemma she’d been facing.
Even though she wasn’t sure he could help her now, she knew he’d listen. She knew he’d care.
She settled next to him, the padded upholstery thin now over the chair’s wooden skeleton. But sitting here again, with the man she’d loved first and longest, put the world into safe mode. “You know the way you loved Mom?”
“Still do.” His face was open, honest and a bit nostalgic.
She fought down the protest that always rose when he said those heartbreaking words. Why didn’t a man with so much to offer move on and find someone else? Mom had let them all down. How could he still care? Mom wasn’t worthy of such devotion.
“I’ve never been in love before. Not like that, but...” Her voice dwindled away. Dad would understand.
As she expected, he said, “But you’re getting there.”
“Yes, I think so.” She shook her head. “I know so.”
“And you’re worried.”
“Yes again.” She leaned in for a side hug. “You’re the best dad. You understand me better than I understand myself.”
He patted the back of her hand. She noticed, as she always did, that he still wore the plain gold wedding band Mother had given him nearly thirty years ago. She hurt seeing it there, a symbol of one-sided eternal love. They were alike in many ways, father and daughter, and Sophie feared loving as he did. She didn’t want to end up rejected and alone.
The thought came out of nowhere. She’d never hesitated to put her heart on the line. Had she? Was she really afraid of love? True, she didn’t date much and never had formed a long-term relationship with a man, but she’d consider herself too busy, too happy in her life. Now, she wondered. Had she purposely been avoiding serious attachment until these unexpected feelings for Kade blindsided her?
“Tell me what’s going on,” Dad said simply. “Would this most fortunate man happen to be Ida June Click’s nephew? And do I need to give him a swift kick?”
Sophie smiled, as she knew he’d intended. The idea of her meek Dad giving anyone, especially a lethal lawman like Kade, a swift kick was silly, but she knew he’d try if Sophie needed him.
“Yes, Kade. And no swift kicks needed. Not for him anyway.” When Dad raised his eyebrows in question, Sophie admitted, “I don’t think he has a clue about my feelings, and the truth is, I can’t really explain them to myself. But this is different than anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s like the whole world takes on a brighter color and I can’t stop thinking about him and I feel really alive when I’m with him.” She made a small derisive sound. “I don’t know.”
“Poets have been trying to explain love for aeons. But love is from the soul. It’s too big for words.”
“How can I be in love with him? How can I feel so...” At a loss, she lifted both hands in the air and let them flop to her lap in surrender.
“Complete? And a little rattled?”
“Yes. Yes, exactly,” she said. “It doesn’t make sense. I’ve known him such a short time, but I feel like a missing part of me has finally arrived. It’s crazy.”
“No, not crazy, honey. God wired us humans that way in the Garden of Eden. A woman for a man. A man for a woman. Two parts of a whole unit knit together by God’s own hand.”
She knew the story of Adam and Eve, but this was the first time she’d seen the significance. Eve was fashioned from Adam’s rib. Eve was part of him and Adam was part of her. God’s breath, His love, had joined them together.
And therein lay Sophie’s deepest concern. She gnawed at the corner of her thumbnail. A blot of black marker stained the inside of her thumb like the dark blot overriding the joy of falling in love. “Kade’s a good man, Dad—”
“Never doubted it. My Sophie’s too wise to go for a loser.” He made the shape of an L with his thumb and index finger.
Sophie responded to the joke by squeezing her father’s fingers together. “But he’s not a Christian. Or if he is, if he ever was, he’s pulled away from the Lord.”
“Hmm. I see. Now, that is a problem. Have you discussed your faith with him?”
“I’ve tried, but when I bring up the subject, he shuts down.”
Furrows creased her dad’s brow. For him, as for Sophie, shared faith was a no-brainer. With faith in God, anything else could be worked out. “Seems I remember having this discussion with you a while back. Before this got serious.”
“He’s polite when I mention church or the Lord, but I feel him draw away.”
“Then how has he won my little girl’s heart?”
“Oh, Dad, in so many ways. The way he loves Davey. He’s determined to find the answers to Davey’s missing family. His humor, the respect he shows to me.” She went on to tell him about Kade’s reaction to her school’s security. “He wants to keep the whole world safe.”
“Especially you and Davey?”
“He hasn’t said as much, but I feel it.”
“Sounds like he’s falling in love, too.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Protecting people is his job and his nature. Maybe I’m just like everyone else to him.”
Dad squeezed her shoulder with one hand. “What if you are? What then?”
With a moan, she admitted, “I don’t know.”
“I do.”
“You do?”
“Listen to your old man, Sophie. Love is its own excuse for being. No matter what happens, even if the other person never loves you in return, loving is always a good thing. Love fills you up and makes you a better person every single time.”
“You’re talking about Mom.”
“And you. And your brother. Different kinds of love, but all of them straight from God’s heart.”
“Oh, Dad. That’s beautiful.”
“You know what I think?” he asked, tapping her nose the way he’d done when she was ten.
“What?”
“I think you’ve been mad at your mother long enough. Anger and resentment hurt you, not your mom.”
Sophie couldn’t hold back a cry of protest. “But she hurt you. And you still love her. You’re alone while she went merrily on with her life and a new man.”
The bitterness in her tone caught her by surprise. Was she still so terribly angry?
“Do I look or sound unhappy to you?”
“Well, no.”
“That’s because I’m not. I have a good life, a job I enjoy, friends, a great church family and two terrific kids.” Cleo leaped from a windowsill to stare at him as if she understood every word. “Oh, yes, and a bossy Siamese cat. I am a happy, content man.”
“I don’t understand that,” Sophie argued. “How can you be?”
He drew in a deep breath and shifted to cup her face. “I was devastated when your mother left, but a pair of old Dumpster divers came around here every day for a while to remind me that love never fails. Whether the other person accepts it and returns the feelings or not love never fails. They were right, honey.”
“How?”
“Doing the right thing by extending love when human nature called for anger healed me. The more I focused on letting go of my hurt and loving your mother no matter what she’d done, the happier I became and the fuller my soul and spirit.” He kissed her chin and released her. “Choosing to love your mom was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It set me free.”
Tears sprang to Sophie’s eyes. All this time, she’d considered her dad as wimpy and passive, a doormat for her mother to walk on. Now, as she compared her feelings for Kade and Davey to those of her father for his family, she finally understood. Even after what Mom had done to hurt her father, he had purposely chosen the higher ground. Sophie had harbored unforgiveness and, as Dad said, the only person she’d hurt had been herself. Her resentment toward her mother and the fear of being alone like her dad had made her wary of finding a love of her own. Then, a battle-weary and heart-wounded cop had leaped into a trash bin, and love had found her.
Sophie slid over the chair arm onto her father’s lap for a bear hug. He smelled of English Leather and Irish Spring, the scents of childhood—plain, simple, secure. “You’re the best dad in the world.”
“Always good to hear.” He patted her back. “Did I help?”
“Ever so much.” She pushed to a stand, basking for a few seconds in the powerful love she felt for her father and to claim the affection he showered on her. “I love you, Dad.”
“Same here, honey.”
As she reached for her coat and cap, he asked, “Where are you off to so soon?”
“I have an important phone call to make.”
Before she could give vent to her feelings for Kade, before she could trust that love would not fail her, she had a fence to mend. She smiled, anticipating her father’s pleasure. “I need to call Mom.”
Kade hesitated on Sophie’s front porch. He knew where she lived. Had driven past on those nights when he couldn’t sleep to make sure she was safe in the little white bungalow. Hers was an older house, probably one of those 1900 historic places prevalent in Redemption. With a small wooden porch complete with cheerful yellow shutters and wooden rockers painted in blue and green, the house was undeniably Sophie’s. Bright, happy, joyous. The door wreath was the same. Obviously handmade, probably by her class, the wreath was constructed of recycled Christmas cards cut into leaf shapes and topped with a giant, lopsided red bow.
The sight charmed him. So did she.
A knot formed beneath his rib cage. The thing had started up recently, replacing the burn in his belly, though this was almost as annoying. Almost but not quite. The knot said Sophie was nearby. The woman had him twisted in knots.
He lifted the brass knocker and gave three strong taps. A sharp gust of wind whipped around the corner of the porch and shoved cold fingers beneath his jacket. Being from Chicago, he ignored the chill. He’d been colder.
He probably should have phoned first.
He waited a couple of minutes, but Sophie didn’t respond so he knocked again. Part of him wanted her to open the door. Being in her presence pushed the shadows away and made him feel normal again. More than normal.
The sensible part of him said he should hit the road and leave her alone.
He snorted softly. He was a mess. A certifiable mess. Kade lifted the knocker and tried again. Sophie even had him thinking about his faith, or lack thereof. He wondered if God ever thought about him. Probably not much.
She wasn’t home. Might as well move on.
Disappointed, he’d turned to leave when he heard the metallic click of the doorknob.
“Kade!”
He spun around. Sophie, smile as bright and cheerful as a Christmas gift, was framed in the doorway like a picture. She had a pink towel wrapped around her head.
“Got a minute?” he asked.
“Sure. Come in.” She stood aside and allowed him to pass before shutting out the swirling wind. “Sorry I took so long to answer the door. I was washing my hair.”
“I see that.” He motioned to her head, the scent of wet hair and shampoo strong. She looked pretty with her face scrubbed clean and her eyebrows dark and damp. “Go ahead and do what you need to. I’ll wait.”
She removed the towel and shook out her hair into a mass of wiggling snakes. “How’s this?”
He grinned. “I’m not answering that question.”
She laughed, a full, delighted sound. “Smart man. Let me grab a brush and I’ll be back.”
While she was gone, he glanced around the small, jam-packed living room. Decorated for Christmas, the space sparkled. He could smell the fresh little tree standing in one corner with a mound of gifts beneath it. Nearly a dozen were the size and shape of footballs. Must be for the boys in her class.
A Bible and some sort of book were neatly stacked on an end table next to the telephone and a notepad. A simple silver cross hung above the television. He expected her blatant displays of faith to make him uncomfortable, but they didn’t. He felt...comforted. Sophie was Sophie, sweet and real. Her quiet, living faith was who she was.
Where that left him, he still didn’t know.
Not ready to go there, nor the least bit comfortable with that line of thought, he resumed his perusal of her cheerful house. His gaze had reached a grouping of framed pictures when she returned.
“There. Tell me I look better.” She’d combed the wet hair straight down to touch her shoulders. The color was dark and rich and glossy. Kade secretly thought she would look beautiful no matter what, but he nodded. “Looks good.”
Her grin was disbelieving. “Where’s Davey?”
“Ida June. Something about GI Jack, Popbottle Jones and a goat.”
Sophie chuckled, a motion that crinkled the corners of her eyes and displayed a tiny dimple on one cheekbone. Weird that he’d noticed something that random.
“They have a goat named Prudence,” she said. “She’s a hoot. Loves people, but has a strong personality. She also makes great cheese. Davey will have fun.”
He’d been to GI Jack’s place a couple of times. The mishmash of discarded, recycled flotsam and jetsam was interesting to say the least. A little boy would have a fine time exploring. “I thought so, too, though I didn’t have much say in the matter. When Ida June speaks I’ve learned to go with her decision or suffer the quotations.”
“I know what you mean,” she said, nodding sagely. “Ida June is as much a hoot as Prudence.”
“Yeah. Quite a gene pool I come from.” He motioned toward the table of photos. “Is that your family?”
“Those are my gene pool. The Bartholomews.”
“You look like your mother.”
“Really?” An emotion, a little sad and a little proud, echoed from that one word.
“She’s beautiful.”
Her gray eyes narrowed, but her lips curved. Full, pretty lips on a mouth that loved to laugh. “That sounds suspiciously like a compliment.”
“It was.” Okay, so he’d told her she was beautiful. That was enough. He didn’t have to tell her the rest. The only way to keep his sanity and keep her safe was to keep his mouth shut. His gut threatened, just enough to let him know Vesuvius was still in there, waiting for a chance to make him suffer. Keeping things inside was killing him, but Sophie was worth the price.
What had Ida June said about a good woman and the price of rubies? He thought he was beginning to understand.
Sophie crossed the small carpeted floor and detoured around a canvas bag overflowing with schoolbooks to take up a framed photo. “This is the last picture with all of us as a family before Mom left.”
Sadness shadowed her beautiful gray eyes. Even now, the separation bothered her.
“Divorce is tough.” His parents were still together, but he had buddies who suffered through the humiliation and pain, even though a broken home seemed to go hand in hand with being a cop. Women couldn’t take the strain. Or was it the men who buckled beneath the pressure of dealing with the dregs of humanity day in and day out? He had.
He wondered what had happened to Sophie’s parents but didn’t pry. No use giving her an opening to ask questions he didn’t want to answer.
“I was angry at my mother for years,” she said softly as she rubbed an index finger over the face in the picture. “Until yesterday.”
“What happened yesterday?” There he went, right where he’d vowed not to, sticking his nose in her private life. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, it’s all right. I don’t mind. In fact, getting over my anger is such a big relief...” Her voice trailed off. She put the photo back on the table and returned to the small couch. A love seat, he thought. A cushy blue-gray love seat that nearly matched Sophie’s eyes.
A soft fragrance wafted to him as she twisted one leg beneath her and settled. Either she washed her hair with coconut or the woman was a walking macaroon. Sweet and delicious.
Kade cleared his throat and scooted to one end. Sitting on something called a love seat with Sophie gave him ideas he shouldn’t have.
“So what happened?” he pressed, mostly to take his mind anywhere but on clean-smelling Sophie.
Serene and apparently not as affected by his nearness as he was to hers, she told him about the sudden, stunning, unexpected divorce and her mother’s secret infidelity.
“She hurt you,” he said, anger rising at a woman he didn’t even know.
Sophie placed her fingertips on his arm. “She did, but I hurt myself worse.”
“I don’t get it.”
“By not forgiving her. I know it doesn’t make sense,” she said.
“No, it doesn’t. She made the choice to leave. Not you.”
“That’s what I thought, too. Then. But my dad taught me something. Being a slow learner I didn’t figure it out until last night. Forgiveness is always right. My faith teaches that, but I didn’t want to forgive her, so I let the anger fester. She wasn’t miserable. I was.”
Moved by her generosity, he said softly, “You’re a bigger person than most, Sophie B.”
“I don’t know about that, but I do know I feel much better now that I’ve resolved things with my mother.”
“You told her?”
“Yes. Last night, after Dad and I talked, I called my mom. We had a long, honest conversation. When I told her I forgave her and I loved her, she cried.” Sophie plucked at the nap on the love seat. “She cried.”
He could see how emotional the issue was for her. She was amazing, his Sophie B. Full of love and forgiveness and decency.
“What about you? Did you cry?”
She looked up, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I did, but they were happy tears that washed away a hard place inside me that I didn’t even know was there.”
Kade couldn’t resist then. He touched her smooth, velvet cheek with the knuckle of his index finger. “There’s nothing hard about you. Never could be. You’re the softest, kindest—”
He was talking too much. He had to stop before he spilled his guts.
But there was Sophie, gray eyes gentle and accepting, and he felt a wonderful sense of rightness in being with her, here on her love seat on a quiet Sunday afternoon.
“Kade,” she whispered, her breath warm against his fingers, “I wouldn’t care a bit if you kissed me.”
His heart expanded to the point of explosion. He was only a man after all, and he was half-nuts about a woman who’d just asked him to kiss her.
Hadn’t he been thinking about exactly that?
He moved in closer, gaze locked on hers, full of wonder and terror and stupid happiness. When his lips touched hers, some of the hard pain inside him melted like wax. She was everything he’d known she would be. Everything he’d dreamed in his restless sleep and waking imaginings. Sweetness, purity, warmth and glory. A fierce emotion burned in him, protective and stunning.
Right before his brain shorted out, he had one sane thought. He was falling in love with a woman he didn’t deserve. And he didn’t know what to do about it.