The Sheriff's Christmas Twins (17 page)

Chapter Seventeen

“I
've made my decision.”

Deep in her heart, Allison had known all along what her ultimate course would be. There would be obstacles, of course, and those who'd disapprove of her choice. None of that mattered.

Standing on the threshold, Fenton's weathered features became guarded. “Well, let's hear it.”

Charlie bounced in her arms and babbled at his great-grandfather.

“I was just about to put them down for a nap,” she said.

“I'll give you a hand.”

Removing his hat and coat, he hooked them on pegs and readjusted his suspenders. Scooping Izzy into his arms, he followed Allison upstairs and helped change the babies' diapers and dress them in sleeping gowns. When the twins had quieted in their cradles, she and Fenton went to the kitchen.

She heated the water, and Fenton pulled a golden canister from the shelf. “Would you like tea?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Once the sugar and milk were on the table, they sat across from each other.

Allison set her spoon aside and smiled, aware that this moment was a huge turning point in her life. “My answer is yes. There's nothing I'd like more than to be Izzy and Charlie's mother.”

His wariness melted, and his gray eyes glistened with moisture. “I hoped you'd agree. I had a feeling you would. The way you've taken to those babies...” Blinking fast, he peered down into his mug and seemed to struggle with his emotion.

Overwhelmed, Allison battled her own tears. Fenton adored his great-grandchildren. While this was a moment of celebration for her, it was one of unbearable sadness for him.

“I know Virginia sounds far away, but it's not a terrible distance.” She covered his hand with hers. “I'd like for you to come and visit as often as you're able. I'd arrange for comfortable travel for you. You could even spend the winters there if you're so inclined.”

He shook his head sadly. “I ain't never been out of these mountains.”

“I think you'd like Norfolk. It's a beautiful place. There's the Elizabeth River or the Chesapeake Bay for fishing. Beaches to explore. Woods for hunting. Izzy and Charlie will be exposed to museums and musicals, plays and festivals. They'll have my niece and nephews for playmates.”

“Sounds nice.” His brows pulled together. “I'll give it some thought.”

“And of course we'll visit you, too. We'll make multiple trips,” she promised, wondering how she would cope with being forced to see Shane again and again.

No matter. She'd do anything to ease the pain of this separation.

“There is one thing you have to do before you leave.”

A tiny arrow of unease winged through her.

“I want you to go out to the Whitakers' place and get their consent. You can take the sheriff as a witness.”

“I thought they already made their stance clear. They didn't want to claim them.”

“That's what they said a couple of months ago.”

“Then why?” Worry eclipsed her joy. What if they refused her simply out of meanness? What little she'd heard about their family wasn't good. They could destroy her dream before she got a chance to live it.

“I'm looking out for you, missy. Save you trouble down the road,” he said. “Don't you wanna leave here with a clear conscience?”

“Yes. Of course.”

But she couldn't help wondering if, by doing what Fenton suggested, she'd be making a terrible mistake.

* * *

Allison was nursing a cup of coffee and wishing she knew how to prepare biscuits and gravy when someone knocked on the kitchen door. A frisson of unease skated across her skin. The sun had yet to crest the mountaintops. Who'd be paying her a visit in the dark, early-morning hours?

Approaching the door, she pressed her ear to the wood. “Who's there?”

“Allie, it's me.”

Shane? Opening the door, she shivered as cold air washed over her.

“Can we talk?” he said. His features were stamped with exhaustion, and the bruises around his eye were more mottled. At least the swelling in his cheek had receded.

She quickly admitted him, grateful she'd taken the time to dress and brush her hair.

“Has something happened? Is Fenton okay?”

“He's fine. He was still asleep when I left.” Standing in the middle of the kitchen, he removed his hat and finger-combed his hair. “I'm sorry for flustering you. I probably should've waited to come, but I couldn't sleep and I wanted to share some news with you.”

“About the fire? Did you find Mr. Douglas?”

Moving to the stove, she readied coffee for him and held it out. His gloved fingers brushed hers as he took it with a murmured thanks.

“No. We cleaned the burn site yesterday and there was no sign of him.” He took a long sip. “The neighbors didn't have any helpful information except to say Douglas had had some family visiting a while back.”

“And the person we saw in the woods?”

He shook his head. “No idea who it could've been.” Pulling out a chair, he said, “Do you mind if we sit?”

Allison resumed her seat and wrapped her hands around her cup. Nervousness fluttered in her middle. He looked serious. There were tired lines on his face, but his azure gaze was bright.

“Do you remember the Bible your father gave to me?”

“He gave it to you for your sixteenth birthday.”

“I've been reading it.”

Astonished, Allison stammered, “Y-you have?”

He'd struggled with his faith ever since she'd known him. Through the years, whenever she'd thought of him—which had been a daily event, his presence was stamped on Ashworth House—she'd talked to God about him, asking for protection first and also for his heart to be open to the truth.

“I went to Josh's last night. We prayed. Well, I prayed. He guided me.” A spurt of joy transformed his austere face. “I've finally accepted that God loves me. That Jesus died for me. For the first time in my life, I know what peace feels like. Peace about where I'm headed once I leave this world, that is.”

That's it.
That's what was different about him. He exuded a calmness, an inner confidence that had nothing to do with his abilities and everything to do with his understanding of God's affection.

“Oh, Shane. I'm so very happy to hear that.” How desperately she wished to hug him! “My father would be dancing a jig right now.”

Laughter rumbled deep in his chest. “I'm not sure I can see David doing that, but I reckon he'd be as pleased as punch.” Shifting in his seat, he grew serious once more. “I always thought God had abandoned me, like my pa. Now I can see how He used David to change the direction of my life. He extended not only mercy and forgiveness, but unconditional love. I just wish I hadn't been so stubborn.”

Allison dared to give his hand a quick squeeze. “You were young. You'd experienced hard things.”

“What's funny is I still have problems. The difference is I know I'm not alone.”

She offered up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. “This is the single most important decision a person can make. You don't know how long I've prayed for this. My brother, too.”

He ducked his head. “That means a lot.”

Her heart was light with Shane's news. Knowing what a private man he was made the fact that he'd shared such a personal decision with her that much more special.

“I'm really, really happy you told me.”

“Even if I disrupted your morning?” He smiled.

“You didn't disrupt it. You made my entire day brighter.”

His gaze grew more intense, and she averted hers. The longing to hold him took root. She got up and carried her cup to the dry sink, her back to him.

“I'm eager to share my news with George.”

“He'll be thrilled.”

The scrape of the chair against the floor was followed by his slow tread to her side. His fingers brushed her spine, and she jumped.

“I think you have news of your own to share.”

Turning, she found him watching her with expectation. “Did Fenton say something to you?”

“He didn't have to.”

She squared her shoulders. “You're right. I spoke with him yesterday.”

“You're going to be the twins' mother.” His expression revealed nothing of his thoughts.

“Yes.”

“I can't say as I'm surprised.”

“You don't approve.”

His forehead creased. “I didn't say that.”

Chest cramping with disappointment, she made to move past him.

“Allie.” Blocking her retreat, he gripped her shoulders and waited until she lifted her gaze to speak. “You're the most nurturing person I've ever known. You've got a heart made for loving. If anyone can give those children the home and security they need, it's you.”

She bit down hard on her lip and commanded herself not to cry. He couldn't know how much his approval meant to her.

“You honestly think I'll make a good mother?”

His hands slid over the curve of her shoulders to her upper arms. “The best.”

Between his announcement and her news, the room seemed charged with emotion. How she yearned to walk into his arms and remain there. But he didn't want that.

Stepping out of his hold, she hugged her midsection. For an instant, he looked bereft. Then he swung away, picked up his hat and went to the door.

“I'd better get to work. Thanks for the coffee.”

She stayed on the opposite side of the room, wishing he could stay and hoping that didn't show on her face. “Have a good day, Shane.”

* * *

Cold settled in his bones. Shane readjusted his neckerchief in an effort to cover as much exposed skin as possible. The mid-December night was lit only by a half-moon suspended in the inky sky. Every now and then, wisps of clouds passed in front of it. Positioned near the post office entrance, a dense cloak of shadows concealed him.

Come on
, he silently bid the drifter.
Show yourself.

Quinn had come to the jail that morning, having discovered more empty tins—peaches, cherries and the like—as well as a discarded container of chocolate creams in the alley between the livery and mercantile. He and the other store owners were anxious to find the perpetrator.

Determined to catch the man and put an end to the filching, Shane had decided to take the first shift of surveillance. If the drifter didn't show tonight, he and Ben would take turns keeping watch until he was apprehended.

While his body remained motionless, his muscles begging for his soft mattress, his mind refused to rest. He replayed the scene in the Wattses' kitchen, returning again to Allison's reaction to his news. He dared not examine the reason she was the first person he'd wanted to tell. Or why he'd been so impatient to see her.

Allison was going to be a mother. Fenton's subdued, contemplative mood the day before had clued him in that something had changed. Shane felt sorry for the man. He'd had to say goodbye to everyone he'd ever loved. And while he was certain Allison would do everything she could to involve Fenton in the twins' lives, the fact remained that they would soon be living hundreds of miles away. Shane had to admit he'd miss them, too.

And Allie. You'll miss her most of all.

He gritted his teeth and attempted to lock the melancholy away. Allison's dream was coming true and he was determined to be happy for her.

With effort, he turned his thoughts to the Douglas mystery. Josh and Shane had combed through the ashes looking for clues. There wasn't any evidence pointing to an act of arson. It appeared the fire started in the kitchen. In addition to the cookstove, there'd been a small stone fireplace. Sparks could've hit a rug or discarded newspaper. The presence of a trespasser bothered Shane, though. In his perusal of his favorite law journal, he'd learned that sometimes a criminal returned to the scene to see for himself the destruction he'd wrought. The idea made his gut clench with distaste. No matter how long he did this job, he'd never grow accustomed to the evil some folks visited upon others.

The wind shifted, suffusing the air where he stood with the twang of pine and holly berry garlands wrapped about the posts and windows. Movement registered in his peripheral vision. Furtive movements like that of a frightened rabbit.

Shane focused on the alley between the mercantile and livery. The slight figure that crept onto the boardwalk and peered into the store windows was too small to be a full-grown man. Not bothering to unsheath his weapon, he strode silently across the deserted street. He was mere steps away from the boardwalk when the boy's head whipped up. A squeak shredded the night. He took off toward the livery. Smothering a groan, Shane gave chase.

He pursued him around the livery's far side and down toward the river. No doubt the kid aimed to lose him in the woods. Shane had too many unhappy business owners to let that happen.

He pushed himself faster and, snaking out a hand, managed to grab hold of the boy's collar.

“Gotcha.”

“Let me go!”

He tried to wriggle out of his jacket in a bid for freedom. Shane clamped down on his shoulders—wincing at the evidence of thin bones beneath—and held him in place.

“Listen to me,” he barked, using his firm, don't-mess-with-the-sheriff voice. “I'm not going to hurt you, but you have to cooperate. Understand?”

“Why should I believe you?” he scoffed.

“Because I'm the sheriff. It's my job to see to it that everyone in this town obeys the law, including myself.”

“You ain't takin' me to jail?”

In the absence of light, Shane couldn't decide if this was the same kid he'd chased out at the Douglas farm. Mixed in with the kid's anger over getting nabbed was a heavy dose of fear. Memories bombarded him, stirring a well of compassion. There was no telling what events had led him to stealing food and sleeping in a stable. Shane intended to find out before this night was over.