The Sheriff's Christmas Twins (9 page)

“It doesn't require a university education, Shane.”

He transferred that dubious gaze to Izzy, who was staring at him in quiet contemplation. “Uh...”

“Don't tell me you're scared of a wee human?”

“Actually, I am.”

Charlie's tirade threatened to crack the windows. Fenton was either hard of hearing or had become immune, because he continued about his business at the stove.

“Do you enjoy listening to this? Because I don't. And I'm not sure I can juggle the pair of them.” Without waiting for his response, she placed Izzy against his chest and physically moved his arm up to balance her there.

“Allison,” he growled in protest.

Ignoring him, she hurried to the cradle, scooped up the little boy and hugged him tight. He didn't smell as most babies should, like sunny mornings, clean sheets and Ivory soap. Her nose scrunched as the odor of curdled milk rose to greet her.

“It's all right,” she soothed, lightly patting his back.

Charlie cried into her shoulder, his face buried in her dress, and Allison's heart melted. Poor darlings. What had happened to their mother and father?

She lifted her head and intercepted Shane's intent perusal, a heavy dose of caution at the back of his eyes.

Fenton turned and, taking in the scene, set three enamel cups on the table. “You look like a natural, Sheriff. Sure you ain't held a baby before?”

Shane's frown grew more pronounced as he glanced dubiously at Izzy, who he held slightly apart from him. “I think I'd remember something like that.”

The elderly man came around and took her, cocking his head to the table. “Go ahead and drink your coffee while it's hot.” He glanced at Allison, who'd managed to quiet Charlie. “You the sheriff's new sweetheart?”

Shane choked on his drink, coughing and sputtering and going red in the face.

Was the thought of them romantically linked that upsetting? “We're old friends.”

“What're you doing in my neck of the woods?”

Since Shane was still clearing his throat, using a chair for balance, she answered for him. “We were out searching for a Christmas tree when the weather changed. We thought we could make it home, but we miscalculated.” At the questioning lift of his bushy brows, she added, “I'm staying at the Wattses' place this month.”

“Allison's from Virginia,” Shane rasped. “She'll be returning as soon as Christmas is over.”

He said it as if Christmas was something to get through, not enjoy. She'd hoped to make this one special for him, but she was beginning to think that was an impossible task.

Chapter Nine

A
part of him wished he could start the day over. If he hadn't offered to cut down a tree for Allison, a tree for a house that didn't even belong to her, he wouldn't have walked into this nightmare—a blizzard, not one but
two
babies and a grieving great-grandfather. At least, he assumed they were Fenton's granddaughter Letty's offspring.

Barely able to rip his gaze from Allison with the baby boy, he took a moment to study Fenton. He appeared slighter than last he'd seen him. His eyes were bloodshot and his age-spotted hands shook slightly. Caring for infants around the clock was a demanding task that couldn't be good for the man's health, especially considering his heart condition had worsened in recent years. The last he'd heard, the medicine Doc Owens had prescribed would help preserve Fenton's quality of life as long as he got plenty of rest. When it had been just Letty and him, she'd cooked the meals and assisted with chores. Now everything fell to him, with the added burden of the twins.

As much as Shane disliked the situation he found himself in, he couldn't deny that the man was in dire need of assistance. Being in difficult spots was part of his job. Doing his duty for the residents of these mountains wasn't always pleasant, but he wasn't one to shirk his responsibilities.

“I hate to inconvenience you, Fenton, but do you mind if we bed down here for the night?” Shane said.

“You're welcome to share what I got. It ain't much, but the good Lord meets my needs.”

“Izzy and Charlie. They're your kin?”

Quiet reigned while the older man struggled to contain his emotions. “I warned Letty not to get involved with the Whitaker clan, but she wouldn't listen. She fancied herself in love with their youngest boy. Convinced herself he loved her back. He filled her head with pretty lies. When she found out she was expecting, she didn't doubt he'd marry her.”

“Clyde Whitaker is the babies' father?”

Righteous anger lit his gray gaze afire. His hold tightened around Izzy. “He might've sired them, but he ain't their pa.”

Allison's expression revealed her opinion on the young man in question's behavior, one that matched his own.

“I know how the Whitakers operate. I'm not surprised Gentry didn't make his son do right by Letty.”

“She was beside herself with grief. I went up there alone to try and reason with Gentry, but he blamed my granddaughter for leading Clyde astray.” A vein throbbed in his forehead. “It's a wonder you didn't have to toss me in jail and throw away the key. Only the thought of Letty being left alone stopped me from doing something foolish.”

Shane hadn't had a whole lot of dealings with Letitia Blake, but she'd impressed him as being a sweet young woman devoted to her only living relative.

“Has Clyde seen the twins?” Allison said.

Swaying from side to side, she smoothed Charlie's hair from his forehead. His blue eyes were watchful as he rested against her. Although she was a stranger, he seemed comfortable in her arms.

“Once. Letty took them up there when they were a month old. His pa said Clyde wasn't interested in seeing them. They turned her away.”

Allison made a sound of distress. “She must've been crushed! What kind of unfeeling monsters are these people?”

Fenton's lined face reflected a mixture of anger and sorrow. “They're people in need of God's love and forgiveness, just like the rest of us. Only, they haven't acknowledged it yet.”

His words pricked Shane's heart. He was in need of the same and more. How many times had he witnessed the power of prayer since making Gatlinburg his home? The O'Malleys were people with strong, abiding faith that didn't waver no matter what their circumstances. They weren't perfect, and neither were their lives, but they lived to serve God.

The O'Malleys aren't like you
, an insidious voice inside his head reminded.
They're worthy of God's love. You aren't.

“I'll pray for them,” she said. “And you. I can't imagine how you've coped on your own.”

“What happened to Letty?” Shane ventured.

“About a month ago, she got real sick. Coughing. Fever. Night sweats. The coughing settled in her chest, and she grew too weak to care for the babies.” His eyes were wet. “I would've fetched the doctor from town, but she didn't want me traveling with Izzy and Charlie. And I couldn't leave them here with her alone for that long. It happened fast. One week, and she was gone.”

Shane stared at the floor, sad for what the widower had endured. First the loss of his wife and adult daughter in a freak farm accident a decade earlier, leaving him with a young granddaughter to raise. And now having to bury Letty and assume the full responsibility for a pair of helpless, demanding infants.

“I thank God the babies didn't fall sick,” Fenton went on, his voice uneven. “He protected them.” He studied Allison and Shane. “And now He's brought the two of you here. You're an answer to prayer, that's what you are.”

* * *

This entire situation had Shane rattled. Allison was convinced he'd be more comfortable staring down his gun's barrel at a ruthless outlaw than taking care of Charlie and Izzy. Fenton Blake's recent pronouncement had only made him more uptight. She was fairly sure he didn't wish to be the answer to this particular prayer.

“You sure you don't need some help?” Fenton lingered in the kitchen area, nursing what was probably lukewarm coffee.

“Go take a well-deserved rest,” she insisted, noting the man's pallor. “Shane and I will be fine.”

Sensing Shane's pointed stare, she smiled sweetly and waved Fenton away. He settled in the rocking chair by the fire with a battered, well-loved Bible.

“We'll be fine?” he whispered against her ear, sending what felt like a static electric charge zinging through her limbs. “Have you bathed a pair of squirming infants before?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.” She angled her face toward his, which hovered inches from hers. Did he have to be so appealing? “Not a pair. I've bathed a baby before, and that's what we're going to do now. One at a time.”

Between the cookstove and the fireplace, the small cabin was warm enough to bathe the babies without worrying about them catching cold. Fenton had assembled the soap, towels and clean changes of clothing for them. Shane had heated the water and poured it into a copper basin the twins' mother had used for such purposes. Since Izzy was preoccupied in her cradle with a handmade stuffed bear, Charlie was up first.

Balancing him on one hip, she tested the water temperature with her fingertip. “Feels good to me.”

Laying him on his back on a towel spread out on the counter, she quickly divested him of his dirty gown and diaper. His halfhearted fussing ceased the instant she lowered him into the water. His eyes grew round with wonder.

She chuckled and gently lathered his arms and neck. “You like that, don't you?” she cooed.

Shane stood there with his arms at his sides, braced as if preparing to do major surgery. He'd removed his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his charcoal-gray-and-blue checked shirt up to his elbows, giving her a glimpse of fine dark hairs sprinkling his corded arms. His hair was ruffled from multiple finger-combings. A stubborn lock fanned across his forehead.

She resisted the impulse to smooth it into place. “I need for you to hold him steady while I wash him, all right?”

His azure gaze locked on to Charlie, he placed one hand on the baby's back and another on his shoulder. “Like this?”

“Yes, sir.” She smiled. George would've gotten a kick out of this.

Charlie seemed content while she washed his skin and hair. He splashed a couple of times, raining droplets on them.

Shane didn't complain, though. He was too intent on his task to utter a word. He really was adorable, she thought. Although out of his element, he was determined to do his best.

When she lifted Charlie from the bucket and laid him on the towel, his brow puckered in dismay. She bent and rained ticklish kisses on his belly. He grinned, a single tooth flashing on his bottom gum, and grabbed a fistful of her hair.

“Shane? A little help here?”

He moved close and gently disengaged the boy's chubby fingers. “He likes when you do that.”

Straightening, she smoothed her hair and laughed. “Most babies do.”

Shane's slight smile held a sense of discovery. “You're a natural.”

“I live with four children.”

He followed her to the bed, where she laid the baby and picked up a fresh gown. “Would you like to dress him?”

He folded his arms, putting his considerable muscles on display. “I'd rather watch you do it.”

Her laugh was dry, husky. “Typical answer.”

In no time, she had Charlie dressed and his hair combed. She held him up. “Look at you, sweet boy! What a handsome young man you are.”

“Smells better, too,” Shane muttered.

“I'm glad you think so.” Delivering the baby into Shane's arms, she boldly tapped his whiskered chin. “Because you're going to feed him while I give Izzy a bath.”

Retrieving one of the bottles Fenton had prepared, she pushed it into his hand. “Here you are. Remember to burp him.”

“But I—”

Fenton snapped his Bible closed and stood up. “You can have the rocker, Sheriff. I'm going out to the smokehouse to fetch us a slab of ham for supper.”

Refusing Shane's offer to go, he donned his coat and hat and slipped outside, leaving them alone with his great-grandchildren.

* * *

Shane wanted to call him back and beg him to switch jobs. He'd be much more content in the smokehouse's cold isolation than in this stuffy, crowded cabin.

The baby in his arms reached for the bottle. Allison wasn't paying either of them any mind. She was already undressing the tiny girl, talking in that sugary, cajoling tone all the while. Guess that was what mothers did to try and ward off crying fits. His own mother's face flashed in his mind.

Was it possible she'd been different in the beginning? Had she cooed and grinned and tickled him like Allison did with these two? Had she showered him with affection?

Since he'd never know the answer, he turned his mind to the hungry boy in his charge. He sat in the rocking chair and, tucking Charlie in the crook of his arm, lowered the bottle. Charlie latched on to it, his hands overlapping Shane's as he sucked greedily.

It had been a long time since he'd felt inadequate to a task. In those early days as a deputy, he'd had to learn his job quickly or risk getting hoodwinked or shot. He'd been in the law-keeping business so long now, there wasn't much he hadn't seen or heard. This baby opened up a whole new world. Of course, Gatlinburg had its fair share of newborns and tykes toddling about, but he didn't have any personal dealings with them. He even kept his distance from his friends' kids.

Charlie's big blue eyes, the color of a clear summer day, zeroed in on Shane's face. Shane studied him in return. His blond eyebrows were thin and sparse, his eyelashes black and as long as any girl's, his cheeks like soft pillows and his miniature fingernails in need of a trim. Now that he was clean, his hair shone and cupped his head like a soft silk cap. Allison was right. He was a good-looking boy.

A boy who'd never know his mother.

For Shane not to have known his mother would've been a good thing. For Charlie and Izzy, the opposite was true. Letty had nurtured them for five months. They appeared healthy and happy. While they didn't have much in the way of material things, she'd sewn clothes and dolls, blankets and nappies for them. Shane imagined she'd loved them so much that she'd been sure their father would love them, too.

“Don't forget to burp him halfway through,” Allison reminded.

Izzy was splashing about in the basin much like her brother had done. Her chocolate-hued eyes were alight with joy. Allison dropped a kiss on the baby's forehead, and Shane's chest seized with a soul-deep yearning he recognized from his boyhood. Yearning for what he had never experienced and what so many took for granted—family, a sense of belonging to someone else, of being vital to another human being's happiness.

Because he was surrounded by families, he'd insulated his heart in a thick covering of indifference. That indifference, that conviction that he was meant to be alone, made it possible for him to survive. It didn't always stop the loneliness from creeping in, but it kept him from lamenting his lot in life. He wasn't meant to have a wife and children. He was meant to fulfill a crucial role...that of town protector and upholder of the law.

His job, along with the solid reputation he'd built, gave him plenty of satisfaction.

“Shane? Did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

“Did you burp him yet?”

He glanced at the bottle, which was more than half-gone. Hurriedly setting it on the small table beside the chair, he said, “Now what?”

“Sit him up and pat his back until he releases the air buildup.”

Charlie was not pleased. His face screwed up like a prune and he waved his arms around. Shane awkwardly patted his back, amazed at the feel of his tiny rib cage and spine. Shane swiped a dribble of milk from his tiny chin.

“Do it a little harder.” Allison brought a towel-wrapped Izzy over and stood observing him.

“I don't want to hurt him.”

“You won't.”

Once again, she regarded him with utmost confidence. She was wrong to put her confidence in him. A stolen purse or an argument between neighbors? He was equipped to handle those sorts of problems. Babies hadn't figured into his training.

The door burst open, allowing a swirl of icy wind and snow inside. Fenton shoved it closed behind him and stomped his boots on the rug. He held a large ham in his hands.