Would she ever rid herself of the awful fear that hovered on the fringe of their relationship? She knew it was foolish. Kyle and her father were different men. Different cops.
But could she trust Kyle to stay as gentle as he was now? Would the stress of his career bring him home some evening, frustrated and angry, his voice shaking the rafters, his fists hammering the table?
Or like the rumors about her father, would a crafty criminal tempt Kyle to overlook a crime or destroy evidence? Would she wait for him to come home…and learn that he’d been wounded or, worse, killed?
She pushed the tumbling questions from her mind and drew in Kyle’s familiar fragrance, a subtle, woodsy aroma that caused her pulse to surge, just thinking of his nearness—the sweet kisses and tender retreat that left her wanting more.
Shame shuffled through her as she lifted her eyes to the stained glass window. Today was Thanksgiving. Instead of dwelling on her problems, she should give thanks and praise God for keeping her safe…and giving her Kyle.
Her gaze swept the sanctuary, adorned for the occasion with harvest symbols—cornstalks, fruits and vegetables, homemade preserves and giant pumpkins. Seeing the pumpkins sent a tremor of fear down her spine.
When Kyle’s father stepped into the pulpit, Jane had no trouble concentrating. His commanding voice and powerful messages lifted her spirits, and when the service closed with the Doxology, Jane sang with fervor, praising God for all His good gifts.
Kyle’s mother joined them as they waited at the exit. Strangely, Jane had begun to feel like one of them. Unwise, she told herself.
On the way to his parents’ house, Kyle seemed distracted and withdrawn. Jane studied him, sensing that something weighed on his mind.
“A dollar for your thoughts,” she said.
He glanced her way with a faint grin. “Inflation?”
She nodded. “Something’s bothering you.”
“A bit.”
“What is it?”
He rubbed his temple without answering.
Though harnessed by the seat belt, she shifted slightly toward him. “You can tell me. What did I do?”
“Nothing. It’s just stress, I think.”
“Stress? You’re worried about me. I shouldn’t have told you about the razor blade.”
He glimpsed at her, his face breaking into a pitiful grin. “No, Jane, it’s not you. I’m glad you told me. You shouldn’t keep anything from me.”
“Then something’s going on at work?”
“Right, but it’s nothing you should worry about.”
Jane arched her brow. “You shouldn’t keep anything from me, either.”
He flashed a guilty look. “I’m expecting a small scene with my dad today. The department’s been working on a series of armed robberies—two men who hold up small gas stations and party stores. I know Dad reads that stuff in the paper. Today he’ll ply me with questions. I can’t lie to him.”
She scowled. “Why would you lie?”
“Not lie, exactly. I’ve been called to the scene a couple of times, but we’re always there after the fact.”
“Guns?” Jane asked.
His mouth curved to a wry grin. “Yes, they’re armed.”
He ran his hand over her shoulder and caressed her jaw with his fingers. “Please don’t worry.”
Jane bent her head toward his hand, enjoying the sweet sensation. But the unpleasant thought of Kyle being in danger plastered itself in her mind. Her razor blade problem sounded foolish in comparison.
Her stomach tightened as her mind marched backward in time, thinking of the worried hours her mother spent waiting for her father to return home every day. Drugs, gambling, money laundering—all those crimes meant danger. She looked at Kyle’s handsome profile. How could she allow herself to fall in love with someone in the same dangerous business? The answer evaded her. But in truth, she had already fallen in love. Now, what could she do about it?
When they arrived at his folks’ house, the aroma of turkey and stuffing already filled the air. She joined Ruth in the kitchen while Kyle and Paul talked in the living room and watched a pregame football program on television.
Ruth had everything under control, but Jane finished setting the table, and finally the time came to carry in the food.
When they gathered around, the family joined hands, Jane clasping Paul’s on one side and Kyle’s on the other. As each shared his own personal thanksgiving, Jane felt the strength and comfort of the two men beside her. After the blessing, she filled her plate and enjoyed a rare home-cooked holiday meal…with a family.
Later in the living room, Kyle and his father talked sports and stared at the television on one side of the room while Ruth and Jane, to Kyle’s obvious dismay, huddled on the sofa, looking through old photograph albums.
Kyle pulled himself from his conversation to toss a point to his mother. “You don’t have to give Jane a biography of my life, Mom. You’ll scare her off.”
Jane swatted at him from across the room. “Pay attention to the football game and let us be.” Yet teasing him, she looked again at his adorable photo and cooed, “You were so-o-o cute, Kyle. Look at that spiky brown hair and those mischievous blue eyes.”
Kyle eyed the photograph she held up for him. “That haircut wasn’t my fault.”
“Oh, really?” Paul commented.
Ruth leaned toward her in a whisper. “He found scissors. Did a little trim of his own.”
Like a soothing balm, the feeling of family washed over Jane again. Never in her life had she sat around the living room relaxing with her parents. Her dad’s work schedule had been unpredictable, and her mother too often seemed withdrawn and unapproachable. With no brothers or sisters, “family” was an unknown entity. But today she luxuriated in the warm, comfortable sensation.
Kyle sidled another look at Jane and his mother. His parents’ fondness for Jane was blatant. He’d tried to move slowly—as slowly as he could with his heart on a high-speed chase. He didn’t want to scare her off.
He’d watched her struggle with their relationship, but understood. He believed with all his heart that she loved him. If she didn’t, his parents’ obvious doting could send her packing.
He enjoyed watching his mother and Jane collaborate like two old friends, chuckling together and poring over the old albums. She loved him. She had to.
“Did you hear me, Kyle?” Paul asked.
Kyle’s head pivoted from Jane toward his father. “Sorry, Dad, I was thinking.”
Amusement rose on Paul’s face. “Sure you were.”
Kyle steered him away from any more comments. “What were you saying?”
“I talked to Walter Kitzmiller the other day.”
“Kitzmiller?”
“Walter from the Rotary Club—you remember him.”
“Sure…I guess. So what’s up with old Walter?” Kyle grinned, but Paul raised an eyebrow. Seeing his father’s sincerity, Kyle struggled to look interested.
“He owns the White Knights Security and Surveillance Services.”
“Oh, right.” Kyle knew him, and now he’d caught on. The conversation was leading where he didn’t want to go, and his gut tightened.
“Sometime after the first of the year, he’ll be looking for an administrator,” Paul said, dropping the information with as much nonchalance as a hippo on a tightrope. “Someone to run the business for him.”
“I see.” And Kyle did, but he wouldn’t make it easy. His father’s expression pulled at his conscience. He understood too well, but a desk job wasn’t what Kyle wanted. Would his dad ever understand?
“You ever think about that, Kyle? Security?”
“No, Dad. Never.” Though his eyes were focused on his father, in his peripheral vision, he saw Jane’s attention turning to their conversation.
“Good pay. Real good pay,” his father said.
“Really? You thought I might be interested?”
Paul shrugged. “Maybe. He told me. I’m telling
you.”
Kyle swallowed the burning bile stinging his throat. “I don’t want to disappoint you, Dad, but that’s not my line of work. I can’t imagine myself—”
“Just thought I’d mention it,” Paul said, obviously struggling to cover his disappointment. “Something to think about.”
Kyle nodded his head. “Sure.”
But it wasn’t something for Kyle to think about. He glanced at Jane and saw her pained expression. She’d overheard, and Kyle wondered what had been said that upset her. When he caught her eye, Jane looked the other way, returning to her own conversation with his mother.
Paul retrieved the folded newspaper next to his chair and placed it on his lap.
The bold headlines of the serial-style holdups glared like a spotlight, and Kyle knew his other worry was becoming a reality.
“I was noticing, there’s been a series of holdups in the area.” Paul pointed to the paper. Though his question sounded casual, Kyle recognized his dad’s concern.
Kyle shot a quick “I told you so” look at Jane. “Yes, it’s true.”
“Any leads?”
“A couple.”
“Guns?”
“Yes.”
If the situation weren’t filled with tension, Kyle might have chuckled at their controlled conversation, each struggling to keep his voice cool and calm. Neither fooled the other one, nor themselves.
“Kyle said he always gets called after the fact,” Jane blurted, apparently uncomfortable with the tension.
Irritation jackknifed through Kyle, but he recovered. He understood that Jane thought it would alleviate his father’s fears. But Kyle knew better.
“Oh,” his father asked, “you’ve been on duty then?”
“Yes, Dad. I know you’re worried, but don’t be. It’s part of the job.”
At that point, Kyle gave up. While he laid out the details, his father listened with deep concentration etched on his face.
When he’d finished, Kyle leaned back, waiting for his father’s retort. But his father’s loving response hit Kyle harder.
“I’ll keep you and your department in my prayers,” Paul said.
Kyle grimaced, sorrowed by the pain he was causing. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate that.”
Paul’s grim face flashed a heartrending grin. “Son, you know that you’re always in my prayers.”
“I know. Now, let’s talk about something more…general.”
A heavy silence hung on the air. The four sat gaping at one another at a loss for words until their uneasiness turned to laughter and lightened the uncomfortable moment.
When his mother mentioned pumpkin pie, Jane rose to help, but his dad jumped from the chair and volunteered.
Jane sank into the cushion, and Kyle took the opportunity to join her on the sofa.
“I hope you’re not bored with all the albums and, well, my dad’s comments. I knew this would happen.”
Jane shook her head. “I’ve liked your folks from the day I met them, Kyle. They’re wonderful. I’m crazy about them.”
“What about their son?”
“He’s not bad…most of the time.”
Kyle did a double take. “What does that mean?”
Jane leaned against the corner of the sofa, distancing herself from him. “I don’t like the tension I felt between you and your dad. There must be a better way to handle that.”
“Tell me how, Jane?” His father’s words marched through his head. After the first of the year, Walter Kitzmiller would need someone to run his security company. What was he supposed to say? Should he consider a desk job…for his dad? For Jane?
His heart tumbled to his toes and a prayer rose in his thoughts as he considered his parents and Jane. Lord, what am I to do? He’d make three people happy if he left the force. Is that what I should do, Lord? Please give me guidance. Jane’s voice brought him back to the present.
“I can’t tell you what to do, Kyle. But I know how they feel.”
He heard his parents’ voices in the kitchen and, fearing they’d return, he hurried his thoughts. “I love my parents…and you know, I love you with all my heart, Jane. But we’re talking about my career. My life. Please tell me you love me.”
What he was expecting, Kyle had no idea. He needed to know for sure. If he had life-changing decisions to make, he needed her assurance.
Jane’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes, Kyle…yes, I love you. But I need time. I have a lot of thinking to do. I can’t imagine losing you.”
His belly tightened with her confession, but sadness weighted his chest, seeing the tears in her eyes.
“I’ve been frightened with all the goings-on, and the thought of facing this awful situation without you is unbearable. I’m praying it’s over. Then, maybe, I can think about us.”
“You’re worth waiting for,” he said.
He viewed her strained face and lifted his hand, smoothing away the furrows of stress and sadness. With his index finger, he traced the line of her lips.
A faint smile touched her face, the tension fading. She lifted her hand and pressed the palm against his roving fingers.
“You have great lips, Jane. Meant for my kisses.”
Jane’s pulse surged, and she raised her mouth to meet his eager mouth, molding together a perfect fit. His tender touch roused her, tugged out her inner strength and drew her into reality. How could Kyle hurt her? How could he disappoint her? How could he ever deceive her?
She relaxed, her gaze drawn to his full, promising lips and his adoring eyes. Where was her faith in God? Where was her trust in Kyle? He’d proved himself over and over. So had God. But she lived with her fears…the black demons of uncertainty that tore away her judgment and shredded her common sense.
Like a child fearing the monster beneath her bed, Jane had lived with her feet hidden beneath the covers of warped memories, never touching the floor of truth.
She’d accepted the dark without searching for the light. The Lord was her light, and Kyle was God’s star, an earthly light to lead her away from the darkness. The meaning rolled through her.
Her prayer rose from the depth of her soul, a prayer for Kyle and for herself.
Chapter Fourteen
Following Thanksgiving, the Christmas spirit hit the shopping centers first, and then Jane. The next two weeks danced by in a flurry of Christmas programs, shopping, decorating and one heavy snowfall. Jane thanked God each morning for the busy, yet uneventful days. Once again it seemed her tormentor had stepped from the face of the earth.
When the spirit hit her, one of the first things she did was hunt in the attic for the nostalgic Christmas ornaments that had belonged to her parents: the hand-carved crèche, the porcelain angels. So many childhood memories. She located them, and with a few nostalgic tears she carried them down the stairs.
Though uncertainty lay in her future with Kyle, Jane refused to let her fears dampen the moment. She looked forward to Christmas with him and his family, and she’d enlisted Kyle to help her select a gift his parents would enjoy.
Dressing in a comfortable pair of skidproof shoes, soft sweater and warm slacks, she waited for him to arrive. The thought of shopping with Kyle wrapped her in a cozy mood.
When the bell sounded, Jane hurried to answer. When she snapped on the porch light, the fanlight over the door remained dark. Apparently the bulb had burned out, and she grinned, knowing Kyle could replace the light without using a step stool. She flung the door open.
No one.
Apprehension slithered up her spine. Through the storm door glass, she scanned the empty porch.
Then she saw the box.
With her heart pounding, Jane clutched the door frame, a roar rising in her ears. Gathering her wits, she slammed the door, leaning against it as fear gripped her. Why? Why when she’d just begun to relax and think it was over?
Headlights flickered across the living room wall. Then footsteps sounded on the porch, and when the bell jangled, although anticipated, Jane flinch
ed.
“Kyle?” she gasped, waiting for a response.
“Jane, open up.”
When she recognized his voice, she flung open the door.
A deep frown furrowed his face. “What’s wrong?” He held the box in his hand.
Her repressed tears broke loose and streamed down her cheeks.
Kyle grabbed the storm door, wrenching it open. In a heartbeat, he stood at her side, and she clung to his powerful chest, letting her tears flow.
“What happened?” he asked.
“The box,” she said between gasps. “I prayed it was over.”
His brows knitted. “The box?” He glanced at the small cardboard container in his hand.
“Someone rang the bell, and when I opened the door, no one was there. Only the box.”
“But you haven’t looked inside,” he said. “Maybe a neighbor dropped off some Christmas cookies or…”
“Kyle,” Jane said, “my neighbors don’t leave packages and run away.”
He shrugged and put the carton to his ear. “Well, it’s not ticking.”
“I know you’re trying to make me relax, but it’s not working. Please open it. I can’t look.” She closed her eyes and waited, her heart pounding in her throat.
“Photographs” was all he said.
Her eyes opened. “Photographs?” She faltered, seeing the distress in his face.
“Handle them by the edges,” he said, dropping the photos in her palm.
When she saw them, her heart plummeted. “They’re all me.”
Carefully she shuffled through them, fear rising to a hum in her ears. “Look,” she said, indicating the snapshot, “I’m in the school parking lot and coming out of the house.” Her voice caught in her throat. “And, Kyle, here we are on Thanksgiving…going into church.” Her heart hammered against her chest.
Trancelike, Kyle stared at the photos.
“And here,” she moaned, poking at the photograph, “I’m in my classroom. It’s through the window. How could someone do this without me seeing him?”
“With a telephoto lens. He could be on the street in his car.” Kyle’s disheartened voice faded.
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