The Sheriff's Christmas Twins (25 page)

The joy he'd experienced minutes before fizzled out like firecrackers' ashes flickering to the earth.

That he loved her didn't matter. Didn't cancel out his lacking formative years. What mattered was that he
would
fail her. He had no doubt of that.

Sliding his hands along her sleeves, he gently disengaged her arms and, bringing her hands to his mouth, kissed each one in turn.

“Tell me what happened, Allison,” he urged. “Where did you go? Why didn't you come to me for help?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

T
he resignation in Shane's hooded eyes was unexpected. After the tender kiss they'd shared, it was the last thing she wished to see. Disappointment spiraled through her. Nothing had changed.

“What happened?” she repeated dully, the brief spurt of happiness fading. She curled her arms about her middle. “Clyde Whitaker happened.”

His gaze sharpened. “He approached you?”

“Yesterday. On my way home from seeing George off.”

Biting out an exclamation, he edged closer. “He didn't harm you, did he?” His worried gaze swept the length of her.

“He's not like his father. We were mistaken, Shane. Fenton was wrong about him.” Turning toward the mountains, she relived Clyde's emotional outburst. She told him everything that had transpired at the abandoned gristmill. “He loved Letty and planned to marry her. They argued, and Gentry used that to drive them apart.”

She found it difficult to fathom how any father could willingly hurt his child.

“Does he...” He remained behind her. “Does he intend to raise them?”

“I don't know.” Her voice sounded small and vulnerable, bruised like her heart.

He urged her around to face him. The evidence of his turmoil deepened her worry. “I'll help in any way I can, Allie.”

A fresh onslaught of tears clogged her throat. The situation was impossible.
Nothing is impossible with God, remember?

I trust You, Father, but I see my dreams slipping away. Izzy and Charlie. Shane. Will I be returning to Virginia the same as I left? Alone?

“What are you thinking?” he said.

“Why did you kiss me?” she blurted.

His lids flared before a shutter descended, closing her out. Shaking his head, he bent to retrieve his hat.

“I know you, Shane Timmons.” She refused to let him retreat. Getting into his space, she declared, “You wouldn't have crossed that line if you didn't care about me.”

“Our relationship is the last thing you should be worrying about.”

“You admit we have one?”

“We're friends.” Flicking a stray blade of grass from the crown, he put his hat on and speared her with an enigmatic gaze. “You're right. I do care. Very much.”

Hope sprung to life. She reached out to him. “Shane.”

“It's not enough.” He flinched away, and she caught a glimpse of his misery. “No matter what happens with the twins, you're going home to Norfolk,” he bit out.

“I could stay here.” Desperation forced the words from her lips.

Visibly agitated, he flung his arms wide. “I can't be the man you want me to be, Allison. Why can't you get that into your head?”

She wrapped her arms around his strong body. “You already are,” she exclaimed against his chest. “You simply can't see it. Your view of yourself is warped. Please let go of the past.”

Beneath her cheek, his heart raced. His muscles twitched. When his arms came around her, she thought he was relenting. But he set her apart from him.

“I'm never going to marry you.” His chest heaved. “Do you hear me?”

Aching clear down to her soul, she bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying. She nodded.

“I want to hear you say the words.” His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Say it, Allie.”

Her vision blurred. Why was he bent on torturing them both? “Y-you won't m-marry me.”

Shane's features twisted. He bowed his head in defeat. Releasing her, he turned and left without another word, and her heart broke for the second time that day.

* * *

On Christmas Eve, Allison woke before dawn with a vague headache that had persisted for days. She'd lain in her bed the night before, staring at the rafters and yearning for a few hours of blissful, mind-numbing sleep. What she hadn't counted on was reality invading her dreams. While Shane had dominated them, Clyde had made an appearance, too. Both men had been upset with her, and she'd woken with a heavy spirit.

Pulling on her housecoat, she padded over to the cradles and, crouching down, listened for the reassuring sounds of their breathing. It was too dark to make out their faces, and she didn't want to light a lamp and risk disturbing them. Uncertainty her constant companion, she pressed her face into her hands and prayed yet again for answers. Clyde hadn't come that first day. Or the next. Yesterday she'd been convinced he'd appear.

Matilda and the children had picked up on her distress, despite her efforts to maintain a calm front. Matilda had retreated into subdued silence, and Izzy and Charlie had been fussy and refused to take their afternoon nap.

Drifting to the window, she pulled the curtain aside and soaked in the star-studded expanse. Was Shane warm in his bed, oblivious to the world around him? Was he, like her, having trouble sleeping? Or was he out there in the night somewhere, doing what lawmen do?

He'd left almost immediately after their excruciating exchange, stopping only to instruct Fenton to fetch him if Clyde showed up. What he was supposed to do if Clyde demanded she return his children, she didn't know.

The predawn hours were marked with tranquility. So when her peripheral vision registered movement, she clapped her hand over her mouth. Beneath the lone maple near the porch, a figure separated from the shadows. A single flame flared, and she recognized Clyde's youthful features.

Struggling into the first outfit her fingers encountered in the wardrobe, she tiptoed down the stairs and tugged her boots on, not bothering to lace them. Slipping outside, she winced as cold enveloped her. Allison marched across the yard.

“What do you think you're doing?” she whisper-shouted.

The flame had gone out, but she saw his body stiffen. “I, uh...”

“This is hardly appropriate.” Folding her arms across her chest, she glared at him even though he wouldn't see the proof of her ire. She didn't have a younger sibling, but in that moment, she understood what it might be like to be a big sister. “Lurking around someone else's residence in the wee morning hours could get you shot!”

“No one was supposed to see me.”

“Well, I did. You're fortunate I didn't scream the house down.” Belatedly noticing the bundle at the tree's base, she softened her tone. “What's going on, Clyde?”

“I wanted to be near them,” he admitted.

“You've been spying on me?”

He bristled. “They are
my
children.”

Without her cloak, Allison was already chilled. The tips of her ears stung. “Let's go inside. I'll fix coffee.”

After a long beat of silence, he nodded and gathered his belongings. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she led him through to the kitchen and lit several lamps before turning her attention to the stove. He paced behind her.

The kettle warming and cups set out, she said, “Why don't you have a seat?”

Another hesitation, and he sank into one of the chairs. Placing his hat on the one beside him, he smoothed his wavy, sandy blond hair. His eyes were the exact hue as Charlie's. Had he noticed how much his son favored him?

Joining him, she folded her hands in her lap. “I've been wondering what's been keeping you. Did you sort things with your father?”

Sliding his hands along his thighs, his upper lip curled. “There ain't no sorting things with him.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” She noticed his ears and nose were bright pink, as were his cheeks. “Did you spend the night out there?”

“Not the whole night.”

She raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged. “I've been here the past three evenings. Got here shortly after sunset and left after the last light went out in the house.”

“What was different about tonight?”

“I don't know.” Lashes sweeping down, he studied a spot on the floor. Odd how she couldn't find any of her initial dislike. Shane would probably think her naive, but she couldn't help it. She was sorry he'd endured heartache and had no chance to rectify past mistakes. Letty was gone. He had to live with his choices for the rest of his life.

Allison readied their coffee, thankful she at least knew how to do that much. Seated once again, Clyde accepted his with a grave nod.

His gaze met hers across the table. “You're from Virginia?”

“Yes. Norfolk.”

“Guess you got a fancy house.”

“It's true that I have the financial means to provide Izzy and Charlie with a comfortable life.”

“I've been dirt poor my whole life,” he mused, work-worn hands molded around the cup. “Don't see that changing.”

“In my mind, love, guidance and emotional security are of far greater value.”

Clyde studied her with open curiosity. “Why do you want to be their mother?”

“They've become precious to me.” Allison had difficulty forming the right words, knowing he would weigh them, dissect her reasons. He hadn't made a decision yet, that much was obvious. “I've wanted a family...children...for many years. I've never been married, you see, so when I met those sweet babies in desperate need of a mother, I began to imagine myself in that role. As the days passed, they formed an attachment to me and I to them.”

Blinking away the gathering tears, she angled her face away and plucked at the ends of her sleeves. Beyond the glass, dawn crept across the blue-black sky. Her entire body felt on edge, nerves stretched to their breaking point.

“Tell me about your life in Virginia.”

Allison told him about her parents and George, her childhood and about Shane entering their world. She told him about her church, her friends, her charity work. She talked about her niece and nephews, too, hoping he'd see what a good life Izzy and Charlie could have.

Clyde quietly sipped his coffee, and she longed to read his mind.

“Letty would want her babies to grow up in a good home.”

Her pulse skipped. Meeting his gaze once more, she soaked in his sorrow and the wish for a different outcome.

“You can provide that for them,” he said gruffly. “But I can't let you take them away. I need to be a part of their life. For their momma's sake, I gotta be sure they're okay.”

Her throat started to close up. “What are you saying?”

“You can raise them if you stay here.”

Allison rose and, blindly dumping her mug's contents in the discard pail, gripped the counter's edge.

“You have a problem with that?”

“Not me.” She envisioned Shane's reaction. How could they possibly coexist in this small town without making each other miserable? “I like Gatlinburg. I've made friends here.”

“It's the sheriff, ain't it?” The chair legs scraped against the wood. He joined her at the counter. “I've seen you together. You don't think he'd like it if you stuck around?”

Unwilling to discuss Shane with him, she said, “If I stay, what role do you intend to play in their lives?”

“You wouldn't have to worry I'd take 'em back someday. I'll sign papers.” His eyes darkened to midnight. Scraping his hand along his jaw, he said, “I can't give them the kind of life they deserve. Trust me, they don't want the Whitaker legacy. I just wanna know them, and I want them to know me.”

“If someday I met someone I wished to marry, you'd have no say in my choice.” While that was not likely, she had to make it clear he couldn't control her life.

His nostrils flared. “As long as the man you choose treats my kids right, I'm fine with that.”

Allison touched his sleeve. “Spend the day with us.”

“Huh?”

“I need time to consider everything. Besides, today is Christmas Eve. Do you have special plans?”

Anticipation flashed over his features. “What about Fenton?”

“He's a good man, Clyde. Give him a chance to get to know you.”

He looked doubtful. “All right. I'll stay.”

* * *

He'd rather be anywhere else but here.

The merry atmosphere inside the church clashed with his black mood. Adults talked and laughed together along the wooden pews. Near the front, Megan was attempting to corral the rambunctious children, while Lucian and their older kids were busy arranging the pageant props.

He'd never attended the Christmas Eve service before, and he wouldn't be here now if not for the reverend and Claude's insistence. What he wanted to do was hole up in his cabin and hibernate the whole winter long. If only he could sleep for months and wake up free of this constant, all-consuming pain and desolation, not to mention the burning anger he felt for himself, his faceless, coward of a father and his pathetic excuse for a mother.

He'd done the unthinkable. Instead of keeping his distance, he'd fallen in love with Allison. And, just as he'd feared, he'd wounded her. The memory of their last kiss and the destruction afterward kept him up nights. He was so sleep-deprived, he walked around town in a fog, his eyes gritty, his head pounding and his chest one huge, numb hole.

His gaze lit on the rough-hewn cradle filled with straw. This year, Christ's birth held a special significance. Jesus hadn't come to earth for everyone else
except
him. Shane was included in the ones He loved and wanted for His own.

I'm sorry, Lord. I realize my attitude isn't what it should be. Help me focus on You and Your priceless gift. And I beg You, please prevent me from hurting Allison further.

“Good-sized crowd tonight.” Ben had moseyed over to the far right corner where Shane stood alone, trying to blend in with the shadows. Sconces lining the space's outer walls provided the only light. “I don't see Allison, though. She is coming, isn't she?”

Readjusting his gun belt to set lower on his hips, he bit out, “I have no idea.”

Ben's hearty chuckle sparked Shane's annoyance. “This has been a satisfying holiday season, I must say.”

He ran a finger around the inside of his shirt collar. His suit coat wouldn't sit right on his shoulders. His waistband felt awry. Shane was uncomfortable in his own skin.