The Sheriff's Christmas Twins (12 page)

“I'll tell you what else will happen,” he murmured fiercely. “You'll get even more attached than you already are. Your brother won't look too kindly on me if I send you home with a broken heart.”

Chapter Twelve

“T
he sheriff lit outta here lookin' like he sucked on a sour apple.” Fenton tossed another log on the fire. Sparks danced above the flames.

Allison sat where Shane had minutes before, taking comfort from the weight of the twins on her lap. While they were relaxed and content, she was in turmoil. She'd been certain her idea was a sound one until he'd pointed out potential pitfalls. The last thing she wanted to do was cause this family more grief. And he was right. It wasn't a long-term solution.

“Shane's accustomed to bossing people about,” she said, still smarting.

Fenton scratched his head. He'd taken some time to himself earlier in the day, and his silver hair shone and his cheeks were freshly shaven. His skin was deeply tanned from a lifetime of outdoor living.

“Guess it comes natural to him after all these years of being a sheriff.” Drawing a chair over, he sank onto it and rubbed his hands along his thighs. His gray eyes were wise and patient. “Whatever it is you don't see eye to eye on, just remember he wants what's best for you.”

She rubbed her cheek along Izzy's springy curls. “How old was Letty when her parents passed?”

“Ten.”

“That's how old I was when my mother died.” She knew exactly how Letty would've felt...as if her world had been taken apart and put back together wrong. And now Letty's kids wouldn't have a chance to know her. Sadness pressed in.

“What was she like?”

He blinked rapidly and sniffled.

“If you'd rather not talk about her, I understand.”

“I want to. It's not easy, ya know?”

“Even though my father's been gone for more than a decade, I still get choked up sometimes when I think about all he's missed.”

Fenton cleared his throat. “My Letty was a sweet girl. Quiet. What some folks would call a dreamer.” His countenance bore witness to his intense sorrow. “I wanted more for her than this secluded cove. She was smart. I thought maybe the Lord would provide a way for her to have a different life. But she got mixed up with the Whitaker boy. He didn't deserve her.”

“I'm so sorry, Fenton.”

While he mopped his face with a handkerchief, Allison silently prayed for God to comfort this man and to provide clear answers to his dilemma.

“Shane and I are in disagreement about my wish to stay here and help you for a week or two.”

When he lifted his head, his gaze was solemn. “In the short while you've been here, I've seen how you care for my great-grandchildren. Doesn't surprise me that you'd offer. And I understand why the sheriff has reservations.”

Allison couldn't discern his thoughts at all. Beyond sorrowful, he looked resigned.

“So you don't want me to stay?”

“I have a different request. Don't feel bad if you'd rather not.”

“What is it?”

“You're staying at the Wattses' place?”

“Yes, that's right.”

“I've got to see the doctor and purchase a few things at the mercantile. Would it be a burden if Izzy and Charlie stayed with you for a day or two? The sheriff probably wouldn't mind if I bunked with him.”

“No. Not at all! I'd love that.”

The request wasn't what she'd expected. She'd hoped for longer time with the twins, but she'd take what she could get. In the unlikely event they returned to town and found George and Clarissa had arrived, Shane would surely know someone who'd be willing to offer temporary boarding space.

“Are you feeling all right?” She'd noticed him pausing to catch his breath at odd times throughout the day.

“Just more tired than usual.” He made a dismissive motion. “I need to see him about a fresh supply of medicine.”

Allison hoped it wasn't more than he was letting on. Fenton struck her as the suffer-in-silence type.

When Shane returned to the cabin a half hour later, she left the explaining to Fenton. Shane didn't comment, simply speared her with his unreadable gaze and nodded.

Their plans made, she and Fenton spent the remainder of the evening gathering the necessary supplies. Shane disappeared outside again. She assumed he was avoiding her. There was no conversation that night. He lay with his back toward her, tension radiating off his big frame.

The following morning dawned bright and clear. Once the babies were dressed and fed and the wagon loaded, Shane guided her onto the porch.

“Do you think these will work?”

A pair of wooden crates had been altered to form seats with a slat across the top that would prevent Izzy and Charlie from toppling forward. Crouching, she patted the bunched-up blankets in the bottom.

“You made these?”

He shrugged. “Thought you might get tired holding them the entire trip.”

Popping up, she hugged him, careful to keep it brief.

“You're a sweetheart for thinking of them.”

Color etched his cheekbones. “It was nothing.”

“Are you still angry with me?”

His eyebrows shot up. “I wasn't angry, Allie.”

“You were annoyed.”

“I was concerned. Still am.”

Basking in his warm, blue regard, she spread her hands. “I'm not staying on here, am I?”

Presenting her with his profile, he squinted into the distance. He looked like the formidable lawman this morning in his full gear, gun belt firmly about his waist, pistols visible and badge pinned over his heart. His full beard didn't detract from his appeal one iota. “I can't put my finger on it, but something doesn't sit well about Fenton's request.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's not like him, that's all. Men like him don't ask to stay in town. They go in, get what they need and get out.”

“He said he had to see the doctor. I'm sure he has other business to tend to. Besides, he's got his great-grandchildren to think about now. I looked through their belongings. They don't have proper winter gear.”

In the sunlight, the snow sparkled like a blanket of diamonds. “Another thing you should know—he won't look kindly upon handouts. If you're thinking of purchasing stuff for them, I suggest you broach the subject carefully.”

She laid a hand on his upper arm. “Thanks for the insight. And for the seats.”

He turned to her again. “You're welcome.”

Allison was reminded of that charged moment between them in the snow. Being close to him was a heady experience. The feelings she'd had for him years ago couldn't hold a candle to those she was experiencing now. They weren't naive, immature kids any longer. Her reactions to him were on a whole other plane...all-consuming and difficult to fight. He was like a decadent plum pudding she shouldn't go near but couldn't stop thinking about.

Oh, if he only knew she'd compared him to a plum pudding...

He tilted his head. “You have a strange expression on your face.”

“Uh, just thinking about Christmas dinner.”

His brows pulled together. She was saved from further questioning by Fenton, who appeared in the doorway.

“We ready to head out?”

Shane's gaze seemed reluctant to leave her. “We are.”

* * *

They reached the Wattses' property by noon. Shane's intention to make a quick escape was thwarted almost as soon as they unloaded the wagon.

Fenton pulled him aside. “I didn't expect the trip to wear me out. Allison said I could use one of the extra bedrooms. Would you mind keeping her company for a while longer? I'll be ready to head to your place once I've rested.”

Shane glanced at the big white farmhouse with reluctance. He'd counted on getting Fenton settled and then going off alone to process all that had happened the last two days. He needed time and space to reclaim his former emotional distance from Allison.

He couldn't refuse the man, however. Judging by his haggard appearance, he'd benefit from a long nap. “I'll be glad to.”

His gratefulness was obvious. “Sure do appreciate it, Sheriff.”

Together, they crossed the yard. The Wattses' farm had received less accumulation than Blake's Cove. Still, the ground was completely covered and the buildings' roofs had about an inch of white on them. He eyed the Fraser fir propped against the porch railing.

Stifling a sigh, he grabbed the cut end and, waiting until Fenton went inside, dragged it to the living room.

“Allison?”

Passing Fenton on the stairs, she reached the bottom tread and paused.

“Are the kids asleep?” he said.

“Fenton put their cradles in my room.” Dressed in the outfit she'd worn during their original outing for the tree, she'd tied her hair back with a bit of string that looked too flimsy to do the job. In spite of the past trying days, she was lovely. Maybe a little less animated than usual. “They went right to sleep.”

He wasn't surprised. They'd remained awake during the trip, observing the passing scenery with interest. The seats he'd crafted had saved Allison from having to hold them. Not that she would've minded. She wouldn't think twice about sacrificing her own comfort for theirs. That was just the sort of person she was.

“Where do you want this?” he said, jabbing a finger at the tree.

Striding to the center of the room, she turned a slow circle, tapping her chin as she considered every nook and cranny. She wandered to the wall opposite the fireplace and stood in front of the window. “This is the spot you picked out the other day, isn't it? It will serve nicely.”

He set it up for her. The only reason he knew what to do was because he'd helped Josh with his last year. He'd never bothered for one for himself. Seemed a waste.

When she was satisfied that it wasn't crooked, she clasped her hands together. “It's perfect. Thank you, Shane.”

Each time she thanked him with those shining eyes, he got this feeling like he was a king who'd granted her dearest wish. It was a feeling he could get used to.

That's why he asked the next question. “What are you going to decorate it with?”

“I was planning on making smaller versions of those pinwheel stars with the leftover paper.” She indicated the mantel. “I can get popcorn to string later.”

“Want some help?”

“You're offering to make tree ornaments with me?”

“Fenton and the kids are napping, and we've nothing else to do. Unless you'd care to challenge me in a chess game.”

“That would be a short match, as you well know.”

He did know. While he and George had played games, she'd been content to do needlework or simply observe their moves.

“I would enjoy having your help with the decorations, if you truly don't mind.”

Cutting and pasting paper wasn't high on his list of favorite things to do. He wasn't about to tell her that, however. She'd been wonderful during their entire ordeal. This was one small way to repay her.

“Point me to the scissors,” he said.

Her demeanor upbeat, she hummed a familiar Christmas tune as she brought out the supplies. They chose the dining table for their workspace.

“Let me show you how to do the first one.”

Coming around to his side, Allison stood close enough that their arms brushed together, making it tough to concentrate. Crafting pinwheels wasn't what he wanted right this minute. What he wanted was to wrap his arms around her, bury his face in her hair and block out the nightmare of the past. He wanted to hold fast to her and not worry about a single thing. But the courage he employed in his job deserted him. Shane was more afraid of reaching out to Allison, of opening his heart to her, than of meting out justice to malicious criminals.

“Do you want me to make a second one?” She angled her face toward his, wholly unaware of her effect on him. Or was she? Something flickered in her eyes as they traveled his features. Was she deliberately testing his boundaries?

He dismissed the thought. Allison wasn't a calculating woman. George had indicated she had little experience with courting. The knowledge thrilled him, which was wrong for many reasons.

“Yeah. A second demonstration would be good.” Subtly putting a couple of inches between them, he did his best to focus on her instructions.

She returned to the chair opposite his, and he found he could breathe easier.

“I remember the monster tree at Ashworth House,” he said. “Those ornaments weren't handmade.”

He recalled that first Christmas with the Ashworths and his awe at the opulence of their decorations. To him, the ornaments had appeared to have been crafted of pure gold and expensive glass. The huge red velvet ribbons adorning the stair banisters had fascinated him. Put together, there would've been enough fabric to make a hundred fancy dresses.

“True.” Her expression turned fond. “However, these days we install a smaller tree in the parlor that the children and I decorate.”

“I suppose they love that tradition.”

“They like to be creative, and they like to feel as if they've contributed. They're also quite fond of the frosted sugar cookies and hot cocoa that's served once our work is finished.”

He could picture her there in the parlor, directing her niece and nephews in their endeavors. “Your sister-in-law hasn't made you feel unwelcome, has she?”

“Oh, no.” Shaking her head vigorously, she laid her cut pieces on the tabletop in various patterns. Her hands were small and dainty and jewelry-free. “I'm fortunate in that Clarissa and I have a wonderful friendship. When she and my brother became engaged, she and I had a long talk. She told me that it wasn't her intention to move in and take over the running of things, nor did she wish for me to feel displaced or unwanted. We've worked out a system where we share the household responsibilities.”

“I'm glad, Allie. Ashworth House is where you belong. I can't imagine you separate from it.”

Her fingers stilled, resting flat atop her assembled pinwheel. “I won't live there forever.” Her lips pressed together in dismay.