The Sheriff's Christmas Twins. Karen Kirst
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can release her hand now,” Shane muttered.
Ben reluctantly did so. “Boss, I know how you feel about these types of shindigs. I don’t mind keeping Miss Ashworth company if you’d like to skip out.”
Dejection weighed heavily on her shoulders. Lowering her gaze to the grass beneath her feet, she waited for Shane to agree.
“That’s mighty thoughtful of you, but Allie came with me, and I’ll see to it that she gets home safe and sound.”
She whipped her head up. In the semidarkness, his profile was impossible to read. He’d called her Allie just once, the day he left Virginia. On the verge of boarding the train, he’d taken her hand and told her to take care of herself.
Ben accepted his refusal with aplomb. “Understood.” His green gaze slid to her. “I’ll see you around, Miss Ashworth.”
He sauntered off in the direction of the snack tables.
Shane scrubbed at the day’s growth of beard shadowing his jaw. “I didn’t think to ask your opinion. If you’d rather pass the time with him, I’ll understand.”
“I came here to visit you, Shane.”
He stared at her for long moments. Holding out his bent arm, he said, “The reverend’s getting in position, which means the program is about to start. Let’s go and find us a spot.”
About that time, the jangle of cowbells got everyone’s attention. The reverend, a silver-haired man clad in a penguin’s colors, went to stand near the church steps and waited until the crowd gathered around.
“Friends and neighbors, another year is drawing to a close,” he said. “In this last month of 1886, let us reflect on God’s blessings and His greatest gift to mankind, His Son, Jesus Christ.” He gestured to the grouping of statues covered with burlap. “This year, I’m pleased to inform you that we have a new nativity. My thanks goes to Josh O’Malley, who carved each piece with his own two hands.”
The people clapped as the reverend removed the burlap from each statue. Allison was amazed by the craftsmanship and detail of Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus and the animals.
“It’s wonderful,” she whispered. “I’ve never seen the like.”
His face devoid of emotion, he nodded and sipped his cider. “Josh is a skilled carpenter. You’ll have to visit his furniture store sometime.”
“I’d like that.”
Candles were handed out to the adults. When they were lit, the reverend’s wife led the gathering in the singing of several carols. The flickering lights created a pretty glow in the darkness, and the sound of male and female voices blending together and singing about their Savior sent chills cascading over her skin. This was a humble church in a tiny mountain town, yet she’d never experienced the same awed emotion.
Beside her, Shane was peculiarly silent. His candle aloft, he stared into the distance, his focus far from here. Was he remembering some terrible moment from his past? Another sad, disappointing Christmas?
She touched his sleeve. “I’m ready to leave if you are.”
He angled his head toward her, and it took a second for his gaze to clear. “Are you sure?”
Of course she wanted to stay, but she refused to be selfish when he was unhappy.
“I’m cold. I’d like to go back to the house and relax before a comforting fire.”
Taking her candle, he extinguished them both and, discarding them in a bin, led her past awaiting horses and wagons to where his was parked. As before, he cocooned her in the quilt, his movements efficient and impersonal but wreaking the same effect as the first time. She was so busy seeing to her niece’s and nephews’ needs that she’d forgotten what it felt like to experience a moment of cossetting herself.
“You were uncomfortable back there,” she ventured. “You don’t like when I question you about your past, but you didn’t say I couldn’t ask about your faith. Has your viewpoint altered since you left Virginia?”
He was quiet a long time. “I want to believe that the God who created all this beauty could love someone with a soul as tarnished as mine. I want to, but...”
“It’s hard for you to trust.” Anxious to say the right thing, she said, “No one deserves Christ’s love. Or His forgiveness. But because of His compassion and mercy, He extends it to us. It’s a free gift. We can’t earn it.”
“I’ve heard these same words many times.” The defeat in his voice disappointed her.
Why can’t you accept them as truth? “I’ve never stopped praying for you, Shane.”
His gaze swerved to her face, his shock evident. “I don’t know what to say except thank you. That you would take the time to pray for me...” He removed his hat and thrust a hand through the blond-brown strands.
“I won’t stop.” Her own voice grew thick. “You can count on that.”
Nodding, he didn’t utter another word. At the house, he set the brake and, after helping her down, started to climb the steps.
“You’re coming inside?” she blurted. “I can stoke the fireplaces without your help.”
He paused with one boot braced against the bottom step. It was impossible to make out his features in the porch shadows. “I thought I’d see to the task. Unless you don’t want me to.”
“That depends on your reasons,” she said evenly. “If you’re coming in because of some perceived duty, then the answer is no. I don’t need to be watched after. If you’re coming in because you’d like to share a cup of coffee and my company, then the answer is yes.”
His long-suffering sigh originated deep in his chest, and the tenuous bond born from her confession evaporated.
“I guess I have my answer.” She ascended the steps. “Good night, Sheriff.”
“Allison.”
Still reeling from her revelation that he featured regularly in her prayers, Shane trailed after her. He had to tread carefully because, to him, this entire visit was a necessary but not exactly welcome intrusion into his life. He hadn’t invited her here. He definitely hadn’t anticipated having to keep up his guard every hour of the day.
“Wait a minute.” He touched her shoulder, and she whirled on him.
“I have to be honest, Shane. I hate that you see me as a burdensome child. Every time you sigh and huff and roll your eyes, I’m tempted to throttle you.”
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