Kade didn’t know why he’d gone by her classroom. Well, other than Davey. He’d wanted to check on the boy, make sure the arrangement was working out. But he could have called.
No. Better to see for himself.
He groaned. He’d never been one to second-guess every decision. He’d been decisive, sure, confident.
Before.
But wasn’t that part of the reason his department had sent him to a shrink and put him on extended leave? He’d lost his confidence and with it the edge needed to do what he did.
He snicked the lock on his car, the cherry-red paint job bright and shiny in the cold sunshine.
Who was he trying to fool? After a discouraging morning of following dead ends, he’d wanted to look into Sophie’s clear, pure eyes, listen to her soothing voice and try to believe that life wasn’t always ugly. With her optimism, she had almost convinced him on Saturday that Davey was simply a lost child and some frantic mother was desperately searching for him. Cold reality had struck him between the eyes in the police chief’s office this morning. No one in the state was looking for a blond, blue-eyed boy with no voice.
Still, Saturday had been...nice. Over a batch of lopsided sugar cookies, formed into shapes without benefit of fancy cutters, Kade had spent a few hours of peace.
The kicker had come when she’d asked him and Davey to church. To her credit, she’d taken his refusal in stride just as she’d done the first time she had tried to sell him cookies, as if she knew she’d win in the end. She wouldn’t. He didn’t belong in church anymore, but Davey had gone with her and had come home with a red Kool-Aid ring around his happy mouth and a colored picture of the baby Jesus. The kid was bursting with pride that left Kade with no choice. He’d taped the purple Jesus to the refrigerator.
A cloud moved over the pale sun, casting a weak shadow. A piece of notebook paper somersaulted across the street to catch in the chain-link fence surrounding the school. In this quiet residential neighborhood, cars motored slowly past, a dog trotted toward the playground and from somewhere he heard the buzz of a chain saw.
People went about the daily business of life oblivious to the lurking danger.
He’d been trained to see it, trained to a paranoia without which he would be dead. A week ago, he wouldn’t have cared one way or the other. But now—now, he had a purpose named Davey.
Sophie’s soft expression flashed behind his eyelids.
One hand on the open car door, Kade squinted back at the elementary school. No gate secured the building from the street, and the school was wide-open, not a security guard anywhere. Anyone could walk in there and execute a tragedy in a matter of seconds. Didn’t these small-town people watch the news?
A bell rang and the double doors burst open, spewing out a running, shoving mass of very small children who barreled toward the playground behind the school. Two teachers, neither of them Sophie, followed the pack. One spotted him and said something to the other. He waited to see if either would accost him, demand his name and business. After a moment of staring, they huddled closer into their coats and disappeared around the corner.
Frustrated, he slammed his car door, jabbed the lock remote and headed back inside the school building. Davey and Sophie were in this place. The principal, whoever he was, was about to get a crash course in safety.
Sophie rubbed her hands over her face and took a deep, cleansing breath. She was tired. Good tired. Today had gone well and each group was ready to move forward with the shopping segment of the project. Carefully organized folders filled with data, shopping lists and cost estimates waited on the back shelf for the volunteer mothers who would do the actual shopping.
The stapler click-clacked as she added a candy-cane border to the green butcher-papered bulletin board. Except for this last board, she almost had her classroom covered in Christmas decorations. The students had helped, of course, adding their artwork to the room. Shiny red garland draped from corner to corner. Multicolored lights chased one another around the door and window. Mercy Me’s Christmas CD spun out a version of “The Little Drummer Boy.”
She sighed. Life was good.
A hand tugged on her arm. She looked down into Davey’s enormous blue eyes. He pointed at her face and pulled down the corners of his mouth.
“No, I’m not sad. Just tired.” She smiled to prove as much.
The kids had made paper elves to hang from hooks on the ceiling and the accordion-pleated legs bounced up and down every time the heater activated. They made her smile. Everything in this room filled her with happiness. She could never be sad here. Tired, yes. Sad, never.
“You know something, Davey?”
His eyebrows arched in question.
“You’re a very nice boy. Being sensitive to other people’s feelings is a wonderful gift. You have that.”
He returned the smile and without being asked began to pick up the stray bits of green paper she’d dropped.
Regardless of Kade’s suspicions that Davey had been abused or come from a terrible background, Sophie saw signs that someone had taught him well. She’d studied abused children, had encountered some, too, and he didn’t fit the mold.
But then, as Kade said, she was an optimist who believed the best.
Kade. Seeing him had stirred up the memory of last Saturday and she’d been distracted more than once today thinking about him. They’d baked cookies with Davey, and when the child wandered into the backyard to play Frisbee with Sheba, Sophie had lingered longer than she should have. Long enough to know she liked more about Kade McKendrick than his crisp good looks.
Beneath the aloof demeanor lived a good person with a powerful sense of justice. He’d find a way to help Davey.
Finishing touches on the bulletin board complete, she unplugged the cinnamon-scented candle warmer and reached inside a file cabinet for her handbag. A knock sounded at her door. A silly, surprising hope leaped to the fore. Kade? Come to retrieve Davey?
“Come in.”
Biff Gruber, as tidy as he’d been eight hours ago, stepped into the room. “Sophie, I’m glad you’re still here.”
“You just caught me.” Vaguely disappointed, she forced a friendly look. She hoped he hadn’t come to complain about the noise. “How was your day? I saw the fourth-grade teacher hauling Marcus Prine toward your office after lunch.”
Biff’s eyes crinkled. “I earn my paycheck with Marcus and his mother.”
“Roberta rushed to defend him, I suppose.” Roberta Prine, a main-street beautician, gossip and all-round trouble stirrer, was raising two sons much like herself.
“Yes, but Roberta’s visit isn’t what I want to discuss with you.” His tone went serious and he got that stiff I’m-the-principal look. “I am concerned about your friends who pay unexpected visits to school.”
Uh-oh. She set down her handbag and stood behind the desk, glad for the three feet of distance between herself and her supervisor. This was her safe zone, the spot she chose when dealing with prickly parents.
“If you are referring to Mr. McKendrick, who stopped in to see how things were going with Davey, he checked in at the office.”
“His classroom visit is not what I wanted to discuss, although from reports he may have overstayed his time limit. Really, Sophie, the classroom is not the place to entertain male guests.”
Sophie bristled. “Biff! I can’t believe you said such a thing. You know me better than that.”
“Yes, well.” He jerked his cuff. “Mr. McKendrick seems unduly concerned with your safety and welfare. He barged into my office complaining about the lack of appropriate security and explained how he could have wiped out the entire student body in seventeen seconds.”
Sophie’s lips quivered. She pressed them in, bit down hard for a second to stifle the laugh. Biff was not in a laughing mood. “He said that? Seventeen seconds?”
“Something to that effect. I was momentarily stunned after he charged in like a ninja.”
Oh, no, she was going to laugh. Please, Lord, hold me back. “He is rather ninjalike, isn’t he?”
“This is not amusing, Sophie. I run a tight ship and we ascribe to the safe schools’ programs. We have policies in place to secure our students’ welfare in every area of the campus.”
“Kade is in law enforcement, Biff. Perhaps he had some useful ideas?”
“Well, yes,” Biff conceded, though she could tell he didn’t want to. “We can always improve. Every school can, not just us. But frankly, I didn’t appreciate the man’s attitude.”
Sophie had seen Kade’s attitude in action. “I’m sorry. He can be a little...foreboding.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “Are you seeing him?”
Sophie blinked, more than a little surprised. Was that what this conversation was really about?
Respectfully, softly, she said, “As my supervisor I’m not sure you have the right to ask me that.”
Biff relaxed his stance, his gaze searching hers intently. “What about as your friend, Sophie? You have to know I’m interested in you.”
A sharp pain started behind her eyes. Sophie fought down the urge to rub the spot. “You’re my principal, Biff. It wouldn’t seem right.”
“There are no rules in our school against dating a colleague.”
Biff would know the rules. In fact, he’d probably scanned the handbook and ethical-conduct forms before coming to her classroom. Now, what could she say?
“You’re a wonderful principal, Biff, and I respect you tremendously...”
A hint of color appeared on his cheekbones. “Apparently, I’ve spoken too soon. I’ve made you uncomfortable.”
She inclined her head. He certainly had. “Thank you for understanding.”
“Yes, of course.” He glanced around at the vibrant display of all things Christmas, stiff, embarrassed and probably hurt. Sophie did not like to see anyone hurt, and she had the awful need to make him feel better. He was a fine man. She had nothing against him. But he wasn’t... Kade.
Oh, dear. How had Kade McKendrick invaded her life with such rapid ease?
“Your classroom looks festive,” Biff said just as Mercy Me kicked into “Winter Wonderland.”
“Thank you. The kids and I enjoy it.” She fiddled with the straps on her purse, hoping he’d leave before her internal fixer said something she’d regret. All the while, her head whirled with thoughts of Kade. What if they were seeing each other? How would she feel about that?
“The new boy is doing all right, I suppose?” Biff asked, apparently in no rush to leave. Or maybe he, too, wanted to mend fences and part on a positive note.
Davey, carefully cutting a paper snowflake the way she’d taught him, seemed oblivious to the adult conversation. She was glad. This whole scenario was embarrassing enough as it was.
“Very well. He’s a nice child. A little sad at times, though that’s to be expected given his strange circumstances,” she said. “He’s no trouble at all, and I think my class of natural mother hens is exactly the right group for him.”
“This arrangement in your classroom is only temporary until he’s tested and placed.”
She tilted her head in agreement. They’d discussed Davey’s placement in detail. Why did he feel the need to beat a dead horse?
“By then, he’ll be more comfortable, I’m sure. Or we’ll have found his family.” She refused to consider that he might have no family, as Kade seemed to think.
“The special-needs director suggested he see an ear, nose and throat doctor.”
“I’ll pass that information on to his social worker,” she said. “The holidays may interfere with appointments until after the New Year.”
“Understandable.” Biff studied Davey with professional concern. “He’s certainly an interesting case.”
Davey wasn’t a case to her. He was a helpless, vulnerable little boy who’d stolen her heart the moment she’d seen him clutching a day-old hamburger.
“Speaking of holidays, Sophie, I know you’re heavily involved in the upcoming community events as well as spending time with Davey. Are you sure you have time for the cookie project this year?”
A little warning bell jingled. “Are there still complaints?”
“I’m afraid so.”
She bit back a frustrated groan and tried to joke. “Maybe if I baked this Scrooge a batch of cookies?”
“Probably wouldn’t hurt.” Biff allowed a smile. “I should let you get home. Your father left an hour ago.”
Sophie relaxed at his friendlier tone. Somehow she’d managed to soothe his ruffled ego, and for that she was thankful. “That’s because I’ve already decorated Dad’s classroom.” She picked up a stack of papers and her handbag. “Are you ready, Davey? Sheba’s probably missing you a lot by now.”
The little boy bolted upright with an eager nod.
Sophie came out from behind her desk and clicked off the CD player.
“Sheba is Kade’s dog,” she explained to Biff. “Davey’s crazy about her.”
“A boy and a dog are a match made in heaven.” The principal touched her elbow. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
At the risk of completely alienating her principal, she didn’t argue. After all, he was walking her to the car, not asking her to marry him.
They were almost to the door when a golden dog streaked inside the classroom followed by a lean, athletic form. Sophie didn’t have a thing to feel guilty about, but with Biff’s fingers tight on her elbow and Kade glaring like the grim reaper, she blushed anyway.
“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Kade heard his tone—a cross between a growling dog and a meat grinder—and realized he spoke through clenched teeth. He couldn’t say why, but the sight of the school principal in Sophie’s classroom set his nerves on edge.
“We were just about to leave.” Sophie stepped away from the principal’s grasp. “Is everything all right?”
Would have been if he hadn’t just been hit with a sharp pain in his solar plexus. “I came to pick up Davey. You’re late. Sheba was driving me crazy.”
That was true enough. The dog had paced, whined at the door and had dragged Davey’s pillow into the living room. The minute they’d barged into the classroom, Sheba had made a beeline for her new charge. Davey had fallen on her neck with obvious adoration. A man could get jealous about losing his dog that way if the sight wasn’t so rewarding. Davey needed Sheba in his corner.
“I think you’ve met my principal, Mr. Gruber.”
Kade gave a short nod. “We’ve met.”
“McKendrick.” Gruber was stiff as a two-by-four. “Back again so soon?”
“Walked right in.” Kade itched to tell the stuffed shirt how easily he’d entered the building with no challenge, no visitor’s card, no one to stop him if his intentions were evil.
To Gruber’s credit, he only said, “You can be assured, it will not happen again.” He turned, again stiffly, to Sophie. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sophie. Good night.”
As soon as Gruber was out of hearing range, Sophie said, “You’re full of sunbeams this evening. Want to go Christmas shopping? Santa is making an appearance at Benfield’s Department Store. You can tell him your wish.”
He glowered at her, but he wasn’t annoyed. Not at her anyway. Sophie was the bright spot he needed after a discouraging day. Even though he was glad to be focused and working again, he’d hit enough dead ends to make him wonder if Davey had dropped from the sky. “This school is an open invitation to trouble.”
“Biff said he’s working on it.” Jingle bells dangled from her earlobes and a small reindeer pin blinked from her shoulder. She arched a sassy eyebrow. “Seventeen seconds?”
The muscles in his back relaxed. “He told you?”
“About your ninjalike visit to his office? Uh-huh.” Face alight with amusement, she hitched an overstuffed schoolbag over the blinking Rudolph. “You made quite an impression.”
“I might have exaggerated a few seconds.” He jerked his chin toward the giant clock on the wall. “It’s long past three.”
She grimaced. “I should have called you. There’s so much to do this time of year. I have trouble leaving on time.”
“As long as Davey’s all right.” And you.
He felt stupid to have been worried, but after surveying the poorly secured building, his mind had run scenarios all afternoon from black-cloaked teens with AK-47s to kidnappers in cargo vans snatching kids from the soccer field.
“He’s done well today, Kade.” Sophie lowered her voice, even though Sheba and Davey were several yards ahead, bopping down the hall toward the exit. “The special-needs teacher did some preliminary testing.”
He slid her a glance. His eyes wanted to stay right there, focused on that sweet, gentle face. “Bad?”
“He has some basic skills, but he’s nowhere near grade level. He tests at late kindergarten, early first grade, although we suspect he should be in second or even third.”
“Figures.” The kid hadn’t been in school. Period. Wherever he’d been, whatever someone had been doing with him, academics had been ignored.
By now, they were outside. The wispy, swirling clouds and tempestuous wind threatened a weather change. They made him edgy, stressed, as if a storm was coming and he couldn’t stop it.
He hoped with everything in him that the wrong person didn’t discover Davey’s whereabouts.
“I’m parked in the teacher’s lot,” Sophie said, pausing at the place where the chain-link fence opened to the street.
“I’m over there.” He motioned needlessly to the sports car parked at an angle next to the curb. She couldn’t miss it. Davey was already there, waiting. Kade lifted his remote to open the door and watched as boy and dog clambered inside.
Still, Kade lingered, not quite ready to let her go.
“I’ll see the pair of you in the morning,” she said, that mile-wide smile lighting her eyes.
“We need to talk.”
She stopped, turned, curious. “Okay.”
“Do you have dinner plans?” Probably. With Gruber. Although, hadn’t the overzealous student in Sophie’s classroom said Miss B. didn’t date much? Try as he might, Kade couldn’t be sad about that little piece of information.
“No.”
“We could get a pizza.”
Her face brightened. “Sounds good. Pageant practice starts tonight, so an early dinner is perfect. Want to come?”
“For pizza? I invited you, remember?”
Her quick popcorn laugh was exactly the reaction he’d been shooting for. Mt. Vesuvius in his gut settled a little.
“No, silly, to practice,” she said. “Tonight is an organizational meeting to determine parts and such.”
He sort of knew that. Ida June was building the Nativity scene at town center where the pageant terminated in some kind of town free-for-all, and she kept his ear full of Redemption’s Christmas festivities whether he wanted to hear them. The whole idea gave him hives. What was there to celebrate? A bunch of greedy people making a buck in the name of Jesus? Or the upsurge in domestic violence and drunk driving inherent in the holiday? Give him a padded room first.
“I’ll pass on the pageant,” he said. “Thanks anyway. Meet you at the Pizza Place.”
Sophie tried not to feel hurt, but Kade’s abrupt departure as well as his gruff refusal had stung. He’d reacted the same way to a church invitation, but this was different. Kind of.
As she’d driven to the restaurant, she’d had a good talk with herself. Whatever gnawed at Kade had nothing to do with her. She just happened to be in the line of fire. Either that or she was unintentionally pushing all the wrong buttons.
Now, as she sat across from him, downing pepperoni pizza and bubbly fountain soda, she decided to clear the air.
“Why do you get prickly every time I mention Christmas?”
He was in midbite, a string of melted mozzarella stretching from a rather attractive mouth to the pizza slice. Okay, so his mouth was really attractive. Firm, sculpted, with tiny brackets on either side. Davey sat next to him, the towhead barely reaching Kade’s elbow in the deep booth. Kade had dropped Sheba at the house with the promise to both dog and boy to save a slice for her.
He chewed and swallowed, an amazing accomplishment considering how tight his jaw always was. “I told you I’m not much on Christmas.”
“Why?”
“Too commercial. Crime rates skyrocket.”
“I’ve heard people say that.”
He peered at her over his soda. “But you don’t agree.”
She intentionally shook her head hard enough to make the bell earrings jingle. “Didn’t you have Christmas when you were a boy?”
Something passed over his face but was gone faster than Davey’s first pizza slice. “Sure. I was a kid. Kids do Christmas. They don’t know any better.”
She was certain he wanted to say more. Certain there was a “but” at the end of his sentence. But something had changed him, something had stolen his childlike belief in all things Christmas.
“I believe,” she said simply.
“In Christmas?”
“And in the reason for Christmas. Jesus.”
“Yeah.”
Was that a “yes, he believed in Jesus,” or a polite acknowledgment of her faith?
She leaned forward, put a hand on his forearm. It was rock-hard with hewn muscle. “Christmas really is the most wonderful time of the year, Kade. So many good things happen. People give more, reach out more. I know there’s trouble in the world. There always has been. There were griefs and heartaches when Jesus was born. He faced plenty of His own, but He never let that stop Him from sharing joy and peace and love.”
He made a soft noise, not quite a harrumph or a humbug. More of an interesting-but-I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it sound.
“Did you ever read the Grinch Who Stole Christmas?” she asked.
“You saying I’m a Grinch?” Was that a sparkle she spotted behind that scowl?
“No, I’m saying I have the DVD. If you want I can bring it over sometime for Davey to watch. Or he can come to my house.” There were lessons to learn in that simple Seuss classic.
Davey leaned forward, eagerly nodding.
“Looks like that’s a yes.” She handed Davey a napkin. “I’ll loan it to you tomorrow. I loved the cartoon version when I was a kid.”
“Me, too.” Kade’s admission was almost as good as an all-out victory. He had liked Christmas at one time.
“Christmas at our house was such fun,” Sophie said, with a nostalgic smile. “Dad was one of those Santa Claus kind of fathers who made tracks outside our house and jingled bells in the middle of the night. My brother and I would go crazy with excitement.”
“Sounds great.”
“Yes, it was. The best Christmas we ever had, though, was when I was sixteen. We didn’t exchange gifts that year. We spent Christmas Day at the church serving meals and handing out gifts to anyone who needed them.” Her heart warmed with remembrance. “I experienced Jesus in a new way that year, and it’s stuck with me. I learned giving really is more fulfilling.”
Kade gazed at her with a bemused expression. “You must have great parents.”
“I do.” Or rather did. A shadow passed over the nostalgic mood. “They’re divorced now.”
She could almost hear his brain cranking out cynical comments. See, he was probably thinking, life really is lousy. But Sophie would never believe that. Bad things happened, but all in all, life was good and Christmas was better.
“Divorce can’t erase those wonderful memories. My brother, Dad and I still talk about them.”
“What about your mother?”
“She lives in Tulsa with her new family. I generally see her on Christmas Eve, but it’s not the same, of course.” In fact, chitchatting with Mom, Edward and his adult children was an evening to endure, not to enjoy. Her brother, Todd, hardly ever came anymore, which made things at Mom’s house harder. Mom tried to include her, but Sophie was the fifth wheel, the one who didn’t really belong. She’d much rather be here in Redemption with Dad and her friends.
“What was Christmas like in your family?” she asked.
He pushed aside a plate of pizza crusts. Neat little semicircles of leftover bread lined the edges of the dish. Next to him, Davey was beginning to slow down, too.
“Two older sisters. Mom’s an executive accountant and Dad’s a hotshot lawyer. We had lots of presents.”
“Were you the spoiled baby brother?”
His lips curved. “Something like that.”
Elbow on the table, she leaned her chin on the heel of her hand, fascinated to think of Kade as a small boy. “Tell me about a typical Christmas at the McKendrick house.”
He hitched a shoulder. “Open gifts, maybe go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Hang with the cousins, play football or torment our sisters.”
“I can see you doing that.” Which led her right back to the same question. What soured him on Christmas? “Are you going to Chicago for the holidays?”
When Davey stared at him with interest, Kade ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’m not going anywhere.”
Kade’s gaze found hers and held. She understood. He was here until Davey’s mystery was resolved. Sophie appreciated him for that. When Kade started something he finished it, and he did it with a fierce passion.
“Am I being nosy if I ask how you’re related to Ida June?” Sophie asked, eager to know more about this man she couldn’t get out of her head.
“Nosy? Yes.” He softened the answer with twinkling eyes. “But I’ll tell you. She’s my grandmother’s sister.”
“Is your grandmother anything like Ida June?”
“If you mean does she drive backward down the street and spout quotations, no. But they are both strong, feisty ladies who can take you down with a hard look.”
“You always know where you stand with Ida June.”
“Grandma, too. That’s why I’m here.” As soon as the words leaked out, Kade shut down again. The light in his face evaporated and he shifted uncomfortably in the booth.
“You know I’m dying to ask,” Sophie said.
“Long story.” Kade wadded a paper napkin and tossed it on the plate. “Ready, Davey?”
Davey slid the leftover pizza and bread sticks into the takeout box and made a petting motion with one hand.
“For Sheba,” Sophie interpreted. She reached for the check, but a strong hand trapped hers on the table.
“My treat.”
The quiet insistence warmed her. Here was a man whose pride might suffer if she said no. “Okay. Thank you.”
Still, he didn’t remove his hand and she began to notice the subtle differences in his skin and hers, the long length of his fingers, the leashed strength.
A flutter tickled beneath her ribs. She lifted her gaze to his.
“I should go,” she said softly. Regretfully. “Practice.”
“Right.” He freed her hand, flexed his once before snatching up the check. “What time?”
“You’re coming?” She sounded like a ten-year-old elated over a trip to Disney World.
“Davey,” he said, pushing up from the padded seat. “He can go.”
“I was hoping you’d reconsidered. The pageant is wonderful, Kade. I promise you’ll feel more Christmas spirit if you attend.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. He needed to get involved. She was sure of it.
“Not this time. Sorry.”
Her optimistic spirit soared. Not this time could only mean one thing: there was still a chance, and if anyone in town needed a little Christmas spirit this year, it was Kade McKendrick and the mute child he’d taken under his wing.