Kade pushed up from the chair, heart heavy with dread. So much for the relaxing massage.
“All right, then,” he said. “Let’s do it.”
* * *
The conversation went easier than either adult expected. Davey had known his mother was gone, and even though his eyes filled with tears, he seemed relieved when Kade told him he’d done the right things and his mother was simply too sick to get better.
Sophie made comments about heaven and Jesus and how much Davey’s mother loved him. Kade cleared his throat a couple of times, moved by her gentle compassion and the way Davey clung to every word. And to Kade’s neck.
“She knew how much you loved her, too,” Sophie said, touching the place over Davey’s heart.
He nodded, fat tears quivering on his pale eyelashes. Kade tightened his hold on the skinny waist and tugged him closer, wishing he could absorb the pain and let Davey go free. Davey’s thin arms clung with a desperation that ripped Kade’s heart out.
Sheba, with her dog sensibility, nudged close to her favorite child and whined. Davey reached a grubby, nail-bitten hand to Sheba’s head. The connection seemed to comfort them both.
The four of them, man and woman, boy and dog, were locked in a circle of grief and love. For all his determination to remain aloof and professional, Kade accepted that he was done for. No matter what happened from here, he was connected by this experience. To these people. Letting go would not be easy. Not now.
Over Davey’s head, he met Sophie’s questioning gaze. He nodded, signaling agreement. Davey would grieve and process in the hours and days ahead. They’d help him all they could. If there was a chance he could talk again…
“Davey?” Sophie asked, stroking his hair the way she’d stroked Kade’s, kneading and tender and comforting all at once.
Davey raised his head from Kade’s chest and left a warm spot on his shirtfront, right over his heart.
Sophie handed him a tissue from her pocket, and Kade almost smiled. The teacher was always prepared.
“Have you ever been able to speak?”
The adults knew the answer, but Kade also knew where Sophie was leading. The sooner they started, the sooner they’d know if Davey could be helped.
Davey scrubbed the tissue over his tearstained cheeks and shook his head no.
“Did your mama ever take you to a doctor to have your throat checked?”
The small face screwed up in thought before he shook his head again.
Sophie and Kade exchanged glances. No big surprise there.
“Add that to your Christmas list,” he murmured, tugging Davey back to his chest. For some reason, he couldn’t keep his hands off the hurting boy. Though, come to think of it, Davey seemed to be handling things better than the adults.
Of course, he’d been dealing with his mother’s death these past few weeks on his own. Amazing kid.
“I’ll call the clinic today.” Sophie sat back on her heels. “Dr. Stampley didn’t discover anything amiss before, but he mentioned more tests. We were going to see an ENT after the first of the year anyway. Maybe we can move things up.”
If there was any way to help Davey, Kade was all over it. He’d even pay for the office call. “I’ll take him myself. Anywhere, anytime. Name the day.”
She placed her hand over his. “I know. Me, too.”
A day with Sophie sounded good, even on a trip to a throat specialist.
Davey looked back and forth between the adults, listening intently to the conversation.
“We think a doctor might be able to fix your voice,” Sophie told him.
He cocked his head and frowned before touching his hand to his throat. To a boy who’d never spoken, the notion probably seemed impossible.
Kade hoped not. Life had taken Davey’s mother. The least it could do was give him a voice.
Reality, that cruel viper, raised its head and Childissed. Davey had no one. He was an orphan. A voice would help, but he’d still be alone in a cruel world.
“And then what?” he murmured, suddenly angry at the lousy injustice he couldn’t control. Not in Chicago. Not even here.
Sophie shook her head and frowned a warning. Today was not the time. She was right, he knew, but he also knew if no relative was forthcoming, social services would make the decision. Davey would be lost in the system.
* * *
News travels fast in a small town and by afternoon, the buzz around Redemption reached a level louder than the church bells playing carols on the quarter hour. Pop bottle Jones, bundled to the ears against the cold, appeared at Ida June Click’s front door. Today wasn’t his first stop to check on the child he’d discovered in his trash bin, but this visit carried greater import.
Ida June, a dear but prickly friend, welcomed him inside to a hot, humid kitchen filled with scents he’d not smelled since his mother was living.
“What is that delectable smell?” he asked. His stomach, prone to beg, grumbled.
“Mincemeat,” she said as she slid a perfectly browned pie from the oven and placed it on a rack on the counter. “You have a very good nose on you, Ulysses,”
“A wise man does not forget the finer foods of Christmas past.”
“Sit down over there and I’ll give you a slice.” She flapped an oven-gloved hand toward the metal dinette. “Be careful. This is hot. Don’t burn yourself and blame me. You’ll have milk with it, too. Much better that way.”
Hiding his smile, Popbottle shucked his coat and gloves and settled at the table. “Yes, ma’am, I shall, and will be grateful for both.”
Ida June sliced the flaky crust, the rich goodness of cinnamon and cloves filling the air as the steaming pie fell apart on the saucer. She set the plate and milk in front of him and then jerked out a chair and plopped down. “I reckon you heard about our Davey’s mama.”
Popbottle held a fork aloft, waiting for the steam to dissipate. “Indeed. A real tragedy. How is the lad faring?”
“Pretty well, considering he has a funeral to attend and not a relative anywhere to help him say goodbye. Cried awhile last night. Tore my heart right out.”
The news saddened him, as well. A child ought not to be subject to such heartache. “Then the rumors are accurate. Davey is alone in the world.”
“From all we can tell. A crying shame, too. He’s a good boy. Sweet as that pie.” She jabbed a finger. “I wish I knew what was to become of him.”
“He seems to be thriving here. Perhaps he could remain with you.”
“Howard Prichard says I’m too old to take on a handicapped child.” She huffed. “Why, the only thing handicapped about Davey is his speech, and if you ask me, silence is golden. The world would be a better place if certain individuals were struck dumb.”
Popbottle grinned around the moaningly delicious bite of pie. He felt Ida June’s pain. Being considered too old raised his ire, as well. “The only thing old about you, my dear lady, is a number.”
“Agreed. I doubt Howard could climb a ladder and repair a roof if his life depended on it, but I certainly can.” She flapped a hand in irritation. “I think he’s still miffed over the time he was ten and I caught him striking matches behind his daddy’s shed. Could have set the whole town on fire in that drought. I marched him right up to the back door and told his daddy. Fred fanned his britches good.”
“Yes, well, this time Howard is in charge and he says we’re too old.”
“You, too?”
Popbottle scooped in another bite of scalding pie. He’d lose a taste bud or two and the proverbial hair off his tongue, but he didn’t mind. A hot pie of this caliber was a rare delight, not to be taken lightly.
“Old and unsafe,” he said when he could talk.
Ida June fluffed up like a mad hen. That was the thing about Ida. She ruffled easily when her friends were insulted. He smiled a little. Ida June ruffled easily over about anything.
“That is the silliest lie ever told,” she said. “Neither you nor GI Jack would hurt a bug.”
“Not us, per se, Ida June. Our humble abode. Certainly, I see his point. A recycling business engenders unstable piles of old bicycle parts, bottles, tins, wires, to name a few potentially hazardous elements.”
“Perfect situation for a curious boy to use his imagination and be creative.”
“Or get injured.”
“Well, we have a problem,” Ida June said, heavily propping an elbow on the table.
“A conundrum,” he concurred.
She shoved a napkin at him and demanded, “Is the pie any good?”
Popbottle smiled behind another forkful. “The best I’ve had in fifty years.”
Ida June slapped the table and let out a bark of laughter. “Well said, my friend. I won’t ask how long since your last taste. That nephew of mine won’t touch mincemeat, you know.”
“All the better for you and me. And speaking of Kade, why doesn’t he adopt Davey? He’s fond of the child.”
“I’ve been after him about that very thing. Any fool with one eye and half a brain can see he dotes on Davey.” She gave a loud huff. “Why, Kade’s practically given him that dog of his, and before Davey came along, dog and master were inseparable.”
“He’s reluctant to adopt?”
“To hear his story, the child needs a father and a mother, not a burned-out cop who might only be around half the time. He’s scared spitless, if you ask me. Afraid of loving and losing.”
“Rumor says he’ll return to Chicago.”
“Not if I have a word to say about it.” She grinned, a sly, speculative spread of mouth that put a spark of sass in her eyes.
“Why, Miss Ida June, I believe you’re up to something.”
“Why, Professor Jones, I believe you’re exactly correct.”
* * *
Sophie looked up from her desk to find Ida June Click standing in the doorway of her classroom wearing a visitor’s badge on one shoulder of a pair of bright red insulated coveralls. Hair, white as royal frosting, neatly curled from beneath an elf-green stocking cap. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes were brown and sparkling, and she looked like a character straight out of a child’s library book. If she whipped out an umbrella and took flight, Sophie wouldn’t even blink.
“Ida June, hello. Davey isn’t here. Kade picked him up so I could work late.”
“I know that. They’re at the house now, racing around after a football in the backyard like two fools who don’t know it’s winter.”
Sophie’s mouth curved. Beneath Ida June’s vinegary statement lay a wealth of affection. Sophie liked the image of a carefree Kade playing with a delighted Davey. She wished she was with them, but the cookie project and other Christmas functions had thrown her behind on her schoolwork. Grades were due in the office before Christmas break.
“Did you come for your cookie order? I’d planned to deliver later tonight.”
Ida June waved her off. “No worry about those cookies, girl. I don’t need them until this weekend for the Victorian Christmas.”
Everyone in Redemption and most of the state knew about Redemption’s turn-of-the-century celebration. Many of Redemption’s citizens were heavily involved, including Sophie and Ida June. Sophie was still working on Kade.
“So what can I do for you?” she asked, curious now as to the unprecedented visit from Kade’s aunt.
Ida June peered intently down the hallway as if worried about being overheard. Then she closed the door with a snap and marched across the gray carpet, spread her feet in a fighting stance and demanded, “Are you seeing old what’s-his-name, the principal?”
Sophie marked her spot in the grade book and closed it. “I suppose you mean Biff Gruber.”
“Yes, him,” Ida June said, as if speaking Biff’s name would give her a sore tongue. “What kind of name is that for a grown man with a master’s degree anyway?”
“‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,’” Sophie answered mildly.
“The Eskimos have fifty-two names for snow because it’s important to them. Makes you wonder about old Biff, doesn’t it?” Before Sophie could come up with a reasonable response, the older woman insisted, “Well, are you two an item or not?”
Sophie carefully put her pen in the pencil cup on the corner of her desk. Uncertain of where this conversation was headed, she went for honesty. She wasn’t interested in Biff, wouldn’t be even if Kade had not entered the picture. “No. We never were. To be honest, I’m bewildered that people keep asking me that.”
“Small town, small minds. Two singles working together.”
“Colleagues. Nothing more.” At least not in Sophie’s mind.
“I told Ulysses as much. You wear your heart in your eyes, girl. That’s what I told him. And your eyes are looking at only one man. My handsome nephew. Spending a lot of time with him, too.”
The room grew warmer. Sophie swallowed but managed to keep her voice even. “Are you matchmaking, Ida June?”
“Well, of course I am,” Ida June said with a dash of irritation. “A woman my age has no time for mincing words and waiting on young people to be sensible. Davey needs a mother and a father.”
“What?” Sophie’s heart bumped. Ida June was moving way too fast. Sophie was still coming to terms with being in love. Jumping to marriage and a family made her head spin. Her heart, too.
“Kade told me about Davey’s family, or lack thereof. Not a soul on this earth to stand in the gap for him. No one but you and my nephew.”
“And you.”
Ida June harrumphed. “Too old to cut the mustard.”
Sophie could see how much that bothered the older woman. “Not in my book. You’ve been wonderful to Davey.”
“I can be his great-aunt if a certain pair of adults will cooperate.”
“Ida June,” she said softly, admonishing, “I’m not sure what you’re suggesting.” But she had a pretty good idea. If her relationship with Kade moved forward, it would do so on the grounds of faith and love. No other reason. Not even one as precious as Davey could make love happen.
The handywoman clapped a hand on one hip. A tape measure poked out the top of her pocket. “Do you love my boy or not?”
“Which one?” Even though she loved Kade, he had to love her, too, not just Davey.
“Well, both of them.”
Sophie pressed her lips together. This was the strangest conversation she’d had in a while, and an elementary-school teacher was no stranger to bizarre talks.
“Kade and I spend a lot of time together because of Davey. We’ve become good friends.”
“Poppycock. There’s more between the pair of you than that.”
Yes, there was, but a budding love was a fragile thing to be nurtured in private.
Carefully, she shifted the conversation back to Davey. “Social services is still investigating the possibility that Davey has family somewhere. I suppose Kade told you all the details.”
“He did, which is why I’m determined to find our Davey a family before it’s too late. Before Howard and his cohorts snatch this child away and you never see him again.”
So much for distraction. Ida June had a one-track mind. Like Sophie, the older woman had grown attached to Davey and didn’t want to lose him.
But what could they do short of something crazy like adoption?
The notion struck a resounding chord in Sophie’s head. Adoption? Could she do it? Was she ready to be a mother? Would Davey want her?
The police had uncovered enough information on Melissa Stephens to trace her records. Her story was almost as sad as Davey’s. A runaway from foster care, her parents were dead and there were no siblings. Davey’s father was unknown. The people of Potterville remembered seeing her a few times, described her as quiet and nervous, but no one remembered her having any friends or social contacts.
“Davey’s mother led a very sad and lonely existence,” Sophie mused. “Except for one bright spot.”
“Her son.”
“Yes.” Sophie’s chest
ached for the woman named Melissa and even more for Davey. “I wish I had answers for you, Ida June, but I don’t.”
Yet the seed had been planted and she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Chapter Twelve
Kade hadn’t been this tongue-tied since he was fourteen and his sister’s sixteen-year-old friend had kissed him at a birthday party. Sophie B. was killing him—softly and sweetly, but killing him just the same.
When she’d managed to arm-twist him into serving cookies and wassail tonight at the publishing-house museum and talked about dressing for the part, he hadn’t expected her clothes to affect him. She was always pretty, but tonight she was a step back in time, a spectacular Victorian lady in long blue velvet. With her dark hair swept up and a tiny hat complete with black veil perched on her head, Sophie took his breath away.
“Wow,” he murmured when he could speak.
Her cheeks turned pink and her eyes sparkled above the high neckline and cameo broach. “I love dressing up for this.”
He glanced down at his pressed gray slacks and black shirt. Twenty minutes ago as he’d splashed on Cool Water cologne and checked the mirror, he’d thought he looked pretty good. But now he was plain vanilla to her blueberry supreme.
As he escorted her to his car her skirt swished against the side of his legs. “Are you going to be embarrassed with an ordinary guy from the twenty-first century?”
“Don’t be silly. I’m just glad you agreed to come.” She slid onto the passenger seat and tucked her heavy skirts with a feminine grace he found alluring. Chin tilted up toward him, she said, “You’re going to love the Victorian Walk, I promise.”
He held up a finger to stop the promise word, but dropped it again when she laughed. She’d made the promise on purpose to rile him. Nothing could rile him tonight. Nothing except his great-aunt, who’d made kissing noises when he told her he would be with Sophie. The old woman was incorrigible.
Ida June had also stirred the crazy thoughts he’d been fighting of late. Sophie B., her scent, her cookie-sweet voice, her gentle ways lingered in his head even when he was arguing with child protective services about Davey’s welfare.
Ida June was pushing him to adopt, but what kind of dad would he be? A messed-up, cynical cop who chafed at Christmas celebrations? Davey didn’t need that. Besides, Kade was single. A boy needed a mother. Which brought Kade back full circle to the woman in the passenger’s bucket seat.
A Child's Christmas Boxed Set: Sugarplum HomecomingThe Christmas ChildA Season For Grace Page 32