by JoAnn Ross
The rest of the meal was a potluck with a dessert auction designed to raise much-needed funds for the local food bank that had been depleted by holiday demands. Many of the women in the town appeared to be determined to outdo each other, arriving with dishes designed to tempt the palate.
Kirby, not trusting her culinary skills, had purchased a chocolate cake from a local bakery. When she informed Sebastian that the rich concoction had been named Better Than Sex, he decided that such a comparison would depend upon the woman in question. From the way his body kept reacting to her kisses, he knew that no dessert could equal sex with Kirby Pendleton.
As they toured the display of ice sculptures created by citizens turned annual artists—a towering Statue of Liberty, a delicately carved fox, the ice moose, which caused Sebastian to wonder if they could possibly be that large in real life—he was treated to cups of hot spiced apple cider, crisp maple sugar cookies, and roasted chestnuts.
“I may never eat again,” he said after sampling a paper bag of popcorn, which, unlike that which he’d eaten during the George Bailey movie, had been dipped in chocolate and salted caramel. While his home planet might be more advanced in some ways, this planet most definitely surpassed it not only in its variety of food but also in the way Earthlings used food to create personal connections and friendship. And, he’d come to realize, as Kirby had held out a creamy piece of rich, dark fudge for him to eat from her hand, as a way to demonstrate love.
“That’s what you say now,” Kirby said cheerfully. “But Emily’s expecting Nate and us for Christmas dinner. She’s also invited a few people who don’t have anyone to celebrate with. And believe me, no one, not even Martha Stewart, puts on a Christmas feast like she does.”
Christmas. Although he knew it was scientifically impossible, it felt as if the Earth’s rotation had accelerated. Time had taken on wings, and every time she mentioned the future, he wished that he knew some way, any way, of slowing it down.
“Oh, and by the way,” she added, unknowingly contributing to his guilt, “you’ll be expected to wear a holiday sweater, but don’t worry, Nate’s got lots from previous Christmases. What do you think about a pair of stormtroopers wearing flashing red reindeer ears and noses?”
“I think that would be exceedingly ugly.”
“Exactly!” Her eyes lit up like the mentioned noses. “Everyone has to wear an ugly sweater. Even perfect Emily. It’s a Pendleton family tradition.”
“It that’s the case, stormtroopers with flashing red reindeer ears and noses sound eminently suitable.”
“Then it’s settled. I bought two online and am still wavering between the one with a lit-up leg lamp from A Christmas Story on the front and another with a smiling gingerbread cookie that reads Let’s Get Baked. So, I guess I’ll just surprise you.”
Taking in Kirby’s excitement about the upcoming holiday he wouldn’t be here to celebrate with her, an expression Nate had muttered after Fred had blathered on about the supposed superiority of Star Wars over Star Trek during today’s lunch break came to mind: Kill me now.
As she took him around, introducing him to more of the residents, it was obvious that all the members of one of the founding families were well liked. But as he, too, was welcomed to the festival, Sebastian felt a bonding, a sense of community that he had never experienced on Logosia.
A white horse clopped by, pulling behind it an old-fashioned red sleigh that reminded him of the one from last night’s Christmas in Connecticut, where a beautiful woman had lied every bit as badly as he was lying to Kirby and still ended up with the man she loved and a perfect life. Were it only that simple.
“Come for a ride with me?” Kirby invited.
“Anywhere,” Sebastian answered promptly.
Soon they were bundled up in the back of the sleigh, blankets wrapped tightly around them. The night was icy cold, the sky crystal clear. As the sleigh’s runners clicked against the crunchy snow and the bells on the horse’s harness jingled merrily, Sebastian drew her close. Kirby rested her head on his shoulder and sighed, that soft, pleased breath more eloquent than any words.
Her scent teased as they rode through the night. The ride was over all too soon. Sebastian was just about to suggest they take another when what people of this time laughingly referred to as a smartphone chimed.
This time her sigh was one of resignation. “I’d better answer it,” she apologized.
Suddenly understanding how she must feel whenever he left for the lab, Sebastian bit back his frustration and forced a smile. “Of course you must.”
The call was, as he’d feared, not good news. “Damn. I’ll be right there.”
“Another disturbance at the Stewed Clam?” Sebastian asked when she ended the call.
“Worse. Pete Olson got drunk and began arguing with his wife,” she said with a deep frown. “From what I could tell, things were getting a little out of hand when the Olsons’ teenage son came home and discovered that Pete had hit Eileen. According to their neighbor, who just called to report the fight, the kid pulled out a shotgun and is threatening to shoot his dad.”
A hormone-driven teenage boy, even on Logosia, was capable of turbulent, unmanageable emotions. A terran teenager with a loaded weapon could be deadly.
“Let Danny take this call.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s dangerous.”
“It’s also my work. It’s who I am.”
“It’s what you do,” Sebastian argued. “Not who you are.”
She gave him a long, unfathomable look. “You’re wrong. Because it’s both.” Then she turned and headed toward the Jeep.
Sebastian followed on her heels. “I’m coming with you.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“Too bad.” Sebastian could practically feel his teeth grinding to dust. “You can try to stop me, but I have to warn you, officer, you’ll have to use your weapon to do it.”
She looked up at him, her gaze sweeping over his rigidly set features. “I don’t have time to argue.”
“Then don’t.”
“You have to promise not to interfere.”
“Damn it, Kirby—”
“Promise.”
Silently he raved his way through every Logosian curse he knew. And then he started in on a few of the more pungent outlander oaths. But, knowing that she was correct about the dangers in wasting time, he surrendered. “All right.”
She gave him one more quick study, then shook her head. “Fine. Let’s go.”
They drove in silence through the dark, the Jeep’s headlights cutting a yellow swathe through the night. There had been times when their silences had been companionable. This one was not.
In contrast to that first night, when the raging blizzard had forced her to drive him to her home with extreme caution, Kirby kept her foot on the gas pedal all the way out of town. Twice she nearly skidded on a patch of ice; twice she deftly corrected. Once again, Sebastian admired her driving skill. Which was far better than his beginner’s effort. There’d been more than one occasion when he’d borrowed her Jeep, that he’d nearly crashed into a tree like poor George Bailey.
Less than five minutes later, she pulled off the main road and headed down a washboard-rough frozen dirt trail.
“I want you to stay in the Jeep,” she said as she pulled up in front of a weather-beaten building.
“I only agreed not to interfere,” Sebastian reminded her. “I never said I’d stay in the vehicle.”
“Are you always this stubborn?” she flared.
“Always.”
Muttering an oath, she flung open the driver’s door, jumped down from the front seat, and began stomping through the snow. After countering with another string of archaic Logosian curses, Sebastian followed.
The scene in the modest but tidy living room was definitely not one of family harmony. A woman Sebastian judged to be in her late thirties or early forties stood beside a saggy sofa. Her sable hair was streaked with threads of g
ray, her thin lips, caught between her teeth, were unadorned with any flattering color. A bruise the shape of a human hand stained her cheek, darkening purple against a stark-white complexion. She looked worn and tired and scared.
In contrast, her husband’s dark eyes flashed with malevolence when Kirby and Sebastian entered the house.
“Damn it, this isn’t any of your business, Kirby Pendleton,” Pete Olson growled.
“Sorry, Pete, but actually, it is. Being that I’m chief of police.” She turned calmly to the boy, whose face—as snow white as his mother’s—was blotchy with scarlet anger. “Eric, this is a very bad idea.”
“The bastard hit Mom.” Eric Olson was trembling so badly that the barrel of the shotgun began to shake. But he kept it pointed directly at his father. “And not for the first time.”
“Damn it, it was an accident,” Pete Olson insisted hotly. Not a single person in the room believed him.
“I’m going to make damn sure there aren’t any more accidents.” Eric’s young voice, still in the process of changing, cracked.
“I understand you’re upset, Eric.” Kirby’s voice was as calm as a tranquil sea, as smooth as glass. “I also know any mother would be proud to have such a protective son.”
She paused a heartbeat of a second as the barrel of the gun lowered infinitesimally. “But think how your mother would feel if she had to spend the next twenty-five years visiting you in prison.”
“I just want things to be the way they used to be,” Eric complained.
“I know.” Kirby started toward him. “Times have been rough on a lot of people. Especially with the additional stress of the holidays. Which is why families have to stand together now, more than ever.”
“He shouldn’t have fucking hit her!”
“It was an accident,” Pete Olson insisted. The red flush rising from his collar proved otherwise.
“An accident,” Eileen seconded her husband’s assertion. Tears streaked down her cheeks, leaving black tracks.
Eric looked with disbelief at his mother. “How the hell can you stick up for him?” His shoulders sagged, his arms lowered. The barrel was now pointing at the floor. But the danger, Sebastian knew, was far from over.
“One thing I’ve discovered about life, Eric,” Kirby advised carefully, “is that it tends to get sticky from time to time.” Sebastian blew out a relieved sigh and felt his heart start to beat again as she took the shotgun from the boy. “And sometimes it’s unfair. But violence is never the answer.”
“Try telling that to him,” Eric blazed with a renewed flare of anger.
“That’s exactly what I intend to do.” Kirby turned to Sebastian. “Would you mind taking Eric for a walk to help him work off some of his excess energy while I talk with Pete and Eileen?”
“Of course.” Not knowing what the hell he was supposed to say but trusting that Kirby had the matter with the parents well in hand, Sebastian threw his arm around the boy’s shoulder.
“Come on, Eric,” he invited. “Let’s let Police Chief Pendleton do her job.”
“She better damn arrest him,” the teen said. If looks could kill, the one he’d shot at his father would’ve had Pete Olson six feet under.
As soon as they were gone, Kirby turned her not inconsiderable persuasion skills on his parents. By the time Sebastian and Eric had returned to the house twenty minutes later, Kirby’s deputy, Danny, had arrived to book a subdued Pete into the island’s single jail cell for the night, and both adults had agreed to begin family counseling.
Knowing their tenuous financial situation, Kirby had promised to help them with the red tape necessary to enter a program for low-income families.
“I’ll check back with you and Eric tomorrow,” she said to Eileen. She gave Pete a stern look as Danny led him out the door. “If the judge does let you bail out, and I’m guessing he will, I want you to stay at your brother’s until after the New Year.”
“I want to spend Christmas with my family.”
“You gave that right up when you decided to assault your wife,” Kirby said. “If I can locate a counselor willing to work on Christmas, I’ll recommend a supervised visit. But if you return to this house before January and without obtaining proof of having received at least one anger-management session, I’ll strongly encourage Eileen to get an order of protection. And believe me, Pete, that’s just going to make things worse for all of you.”
“I’m impressed,” Sebastian said as they headed back down the rutted road. Kirby had stayed awhile after the husband’s departure, to make certain Eileen not only had a list of emergency contact numbers but was willing to utilize them if necessary. She’d also removed both the shotgun and a deer rifle from the premises.
His quiet compliment should not have given her so much pleasure. But it did. “Thanks.
“When we arrived, I took one look at that boy’s face and felt certain that there would be violence. But you managed to forestall it without even drawing your own weapon.”
Her casual shrug belied the pleasure his words instilled. “That would have only created a worse problem. Contrary to what you see on television, the majority of cops would rather use their mouths than their guns. Hopefully, spending a night behind bars will be a wake-up call for Pete.”
“And if it isn’t?”
She squared her shoulders in a way that had become familiar. And, again, reminded Sebastian of his sister. “Then I’ll handle it. I’m not allowing women to be beaten on my island.”
Sebastian had not a single doubt she’d make certain of that.
“I wanted to take you ice skating tonight,” she said, changing the subject as they turned onto the main road. “But if you don’t mind, I’d rather just go home.”
“That sounds like a very good idea to me,” he agreed. As impressed as he was with her poise during that difficult and dangerous event, she’d have to be a replicant or a cyborg not to be emotionally shaken.
“Thanks.”
They drove in silence for a time as the snow began to fall again, dancing like flitterflies in the beam of the Jeep’s headlights. It wasn’t until she’d pulled up in front of her small house and turned the key, cutting off the engine, that she spoke again.
“When I first graduated from the police academy, I honestly believed that my job was to solve all society’s problems.”
“A Herculean, and highly improbable, task.”
“I couldn’t have put it better myself,” Kirby agreed. “Anyway, eventually, I realized that life wasn’t neatly black-and-white. That mostly it was varying shades of muddy gray. And that my job would be coming up with a temporary solution for a long-term problem.”
“I’m not certain I understand.”
“Most of the problems cops encounter are started by someone or something else. And ultimately, they’ll be finished by someone else. Hopefully, in the Olsons’ case, a good counselor coupled with an upturn in the economy will ease some of the tension the family’s been under. Meanwhile, we get the parts in between.”
“The Olsons were fortunate to have you taking care of the in-between. I think you are a superior police officer, Kirby Pendleton.”
“High praise, indeed, from a professed male chauvinist.” Kirby rewarded him with a smile. “Perhaps there’s hope for you, after all, Sebastian.”
Their eyes met. “Kirby—” Sebastian ran the back of his hand down her cheek and felt her tremble.
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes and allowed emotions too long denied to surge through her. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze was frank and open. “I’m tired of being sensible. I don’t want to wait any longer to make love with you, Sebastian,” she said in a voice that was as thick as honey and as warm as a late-summer sun.
It was what he’d been wanting from the beginning. Torn between honor and need, Sebastian hesitated. During that fleeting vacillation, the cell rang again, shattering the moment.
Slanting him an apologetic glance, Kirby scooped it up. �
��Police department. Oh, Nate.” Her tone was anything but welcoming. “Yes, he’s right here.” She handed the phone to Sebastian. “It’s for you.”
Frowning, Sebastian listened to Nate’s excited voice. And knew that fate had just intervened.
“He believes he’s made a breakthrough,” Sebastian answered Kirby’s questioning look.
That much was true. He refrained from mentioning that someone had attempted to hack into the computer files.
“So you need to go to the lab.”
Stay. Go. He’d never been more torn.
Apparently taking pity on him, Kirby pressed her fingers against his tightly set lips. “Go to the brain factory,” she advised. “There’ll be another time.”
Had there ever been a woman like this one? Sebastian wondered. “I won’t be long,” he promised.
“I’ll be waiting.”
20
The following day dawned crisp and clear and cold. Kirby was sitting at the kitchen table, after having drunk too many cups of coffee, waiting for Sebastian to return.
He’d been gone all night. Again.
She’d called the Olson house and determined that Pete’s brother had come to pick up his things after he’d, indeed, been released on bail first thing this morning. Danny had driven him to the farmhouse on the far side of the island. She was encouraged when Eileen related that her husband had sent along a letter and, according to the brother, was showing the proper amount of shame and embarrassment. Even Eric, proving the resiliency of youth, sounded back to normal.
So, that problem wasn’t solved. But she had managed to put a Band-Aid on it. Hopefully until the New Year.
Frustrated by Sebastian’s absence, lonely, and needing to walk off her irritation, she pulled on her hooded parka and left the house. Perhaps some exercise in the fresh air before going into the station to finish writing up her report of last night’s incidence would clear her head. It was, she mused as she trod through the now-crunchy frozen snow, as if Sebastian possessed the ability to fog her mind.
She couldn’t figure him out. It was obvious that he cared for her. Just as it was obvious that he’d tried very hard not to care. Kirby knew that the man she’d fallen in love with was hiding something. Although he appeared incapable of telling a lie, there was something he wasn’t saying. Something important.