A Child's Christmas Boxed Set: Sugarplum HomecomingThe Christmas ChildA Season For Grace

by Linda Goodnight

  Because she didn’t know what else to do, Mia closed her eyes and prayed. Prayed for God to help them find Drew and Ian. Prayed that Collin could someday release all his heartache to the only One who could heal him. Prayed that she would somehow find the words to compensate for her bad judgment.

  In silence they drove out of the residential area and headed toward Collin’s place and her vehicle. Mia was glad she’d left her car at the farm. Collin didn’t need to be alone even if he thought he did.

  “Are you okay?” she finally asked.

  In the dim dash lights he glanced her way, his cop face expressionless. “Sure. You hungry?”

  The question had her turning in her seat. “Hungry?”

  “As in food. I haven’t had dinner.”

  “Neither have I.” She felt out of balance. He had shoved aside what had to be, at least, a disappointment. Was this the way he handled his emotions? By ignoring them?

  They parked behind a popular steak house and went inside.

  They passed a buffet loaded with steaming vegetables and a variety of meats that had her mouth watering.

  “You look confused,” Collin said as he held a chair for her.

  She was. In more ways than one. “I was expecting a tofu bar with bean sprouts and seaweed.”

  “I eat what I like.”

  There went another assumption she shouldn’t have made about him.

  They filled their plates from the hot bar and found a table. Collin had ordered a steak as well.

  “Comfort food?” she asked gently after the waitress brought their drinks and departed.

  He shrugged. “Just hungry. This place makes great steaks.”

  She squeezed the lemon slice into her tea.

  “Want mine?” Collin said, removing the slice from the edge of his glass.

  “You’re giving up vitamin C?” She teased, but took the offered fruit. “Do you eat out like this all the time?”

  “Not that much. Mostly I cook for myself.”

  She should have figured as much. He’d been self-reliant of necessity all of his life, a notion that made her heart hurt. But that strength had made him good at about anything he set his mind to. She wondered if he knew that about himself and decided that he didn’t.

  “What’s your specialty?” she asked.

  “Meat loaf and mashed potatoes. How about you? You live alone, too. Do you eat at your folks’ or cook for yourself?”

  “For myself most of the time. Although I sneak over to the bakery a little more often than I should.”

  “You any good?”

  “Look at this body.” With a self-deprecating twist of her mouth, she held her hands out to the side. “What do you think?”

  “I think you look great.” His brown eyes sparkled with appreciation.

  “That wasn’t what I meant.” A rush of heat flooded her neck. “I meant—”

  He laughed and let her off the hook. “I know what you meant.” He pointed a fork at her. “But you still look good.”

  “Well.” She wasn’t sure what to say. She got her share of compliments, but she’d never expected one from Collin. He was full of surprises tonight. “Thank you.”

  The waitress brought his steak and they settled in to eat, making comments now and then about the food. After a bit the conversation lagged and all she could think about was the night’s failed trip. Collin might want to ignore the subject, but Mia would explode if she didn’t get her feelings out in the open.

  “Will you let me apologize for not checking out that address before telling you about it?”

  “No use talking the subject to death.”

  “We haven’t talked about it at all.” Which was driving her nuts.

  “Just as well.” He laid aside his fork and took a man-size drink of tea.

  “Not really. Talking helps you sort out your feelings, weigh your options.” And made her feel a whole lot better.

  Collin looked at her, steady and silent. If anyone was going to talk, she would have to be the one.

  “I’ll keep looking. The information has to be there somewhere. We’ll find them.”

  “You could check the adoption files. See if either of my brothers was adopted.”

  “I’m checking those.”

  Attention riveted to his plate, he casually asked, “The sealed ones?”

  Her breath froze in her throat. “I won’t do that.”

  He looked up. The naked emotion in his eyes stunned her. “Why not?”

  Shoulders instantly tense, she had to remind him, “I told you from the beginning I wouldn’t go into sealed files.”

  “That was before you knew me. Before we were friends.”

  Friends? “Is that what the compliment was about? To soften me up?”

  His jaw tightened. “Is that what you think?”

  She leaned back in her chair, miserable to be at odds with him over this. “No. Not really, but I can’t believe you’d ask me to do such a thing.”

  Anger flared in the normally composed face. His fork clattered against his plate. “Wanting to find my brothers is not a crime. I’m not some do-wrong trying to ferret out information for evil purposes. This is my life we’re talking about.”

  “I know that, Collin. But the files are closed for a reason. Parents requested and were given sealed records because they wanted the promise of privacy. And until those people request a change, those files have to stay sealed.”

  He crammed a frustrated hand over his head, spiking the hair up in front. “Nearly twenty-five years of my life is down the drain, Mia. I need to find them. They’re men now. Opening those files won’t hurt them or anybody else.”

  She shook her head, sick at heart. “I can’t. It’s wrong. Please understand.”

  Back rigid, he pushed away from the table and stood. The cold mask she’d encountered the first time they’d met was back in place.

  Chapter Nine

  Collin was not having a good day. In fact, the last two had been lousy.

  He pushed the barn door open, stopping in the entrance to breathe in the warm scents of animals, feed and the ever-present smell of disinfectant. He went through gallons of the stuff trying to protect the sick animals from each other.

  Since the night he’d let himself hope, only to be slapped down again, he’d battled a growing sense of emptiness.

  After work tonight he’d gone to the gym with Maurice and true to form, his buddy had invited him home for dinner and Bible study. For the first time, he’d wanted to go. But he always felt so out of place in a crowd. And a Bible study was a whole different universe.

  Not that he hadn’t given God a lot of thought lately. Every time he showered or changed shirts and noticed his shamrock, Mia’s words rang in his memory. She had something in her life that he didn’t. And that something was more than a big, noisy family. Maurice had the same thing, so Collin figured the difference must be God.

  One of the horses nickered as Collin moved down the dirt-packed corridor. These animals depended on him, regardless of the kind of day he’d had. He could take care of himself. They couldn’t.

  As was his habit, he headed to Happy’s pen first. The little dog’s attitude could lighten him up no matter what.

  Mitchell, whom he hadn’t seen since the smoking incident, was already inside the stall.

  Irritation flared. The little twerp had some nerve coming back around the animals without permission.

  Collin was all prepared to give him a tongue-lashing and send him home when the boy looked up.

  What he saw punched him in the gut.

  The kid’s face was bruised from the eyebrow to below the cheekbone. A sliver of bloodshot eye showed through the swelling.

  “What happened?” He heard his own voice, hard and angry.

  Mitchell dropped his head, fidgeting with the dog brush in his hands. “I won’t smoke anymore, Collin.”

  “Not what I asked.”

  Mitchell jerked one narrow shoulder. “Nothing.”
<
br />   With effort, Collin forced a calm he didn’t feel. “Home or school?”

  The boy was silent for a minute. Then he blew out a gust of air as if he’d been holding his breath, afraid Collin would send him away. “Not my mom.”

  The stepdad then. Collin had run a check on Teddy Shipley. He had a rap sheet longer than the road from here to California, where he’d spent a year in the pen for assault with a deadly weapon and manufacturing an illegal substance. A real honey of a guy.

  Collin hunkered down beside the boy, rested one hand lightly on the skinny back. “You can tell me anything.”

  Mitchell developed a sudden fascination with the bristles of Happy’s brush. He flicked them back and forth against his palm. “I can’t.”

  And then he dropped the brush and buried his face in Happy’s thick fur. Happy, true to his name, moaned in ecstatic joy and licked at the air.

  The kid was either scared or he knew something that would incriminate someone he cared about. And the cop in Collin suspected who.

  He sighed wearily. Life could be so stinking ugly.

  “If he hits you again, I’m all over him.”

  Mitch’s head jerked up. His one good eye widened. “I never told you that. Don’t be saying I did.”

  Compassion, mixed with frustration, pushed at the back of Collin’s throat. He clamped down on his back teeth, hating the feelings.

  “Did you go to school like this?”

  Mitch shook his head. “No.”

  So that’s why he’d shown up here this evening. Things were out of hand at home.

  “Does he hit your mom, too?”

  Tears welled in the boy’s eyes. “She’d be real mad if she knew I told.”

  “Why?”

  “She just would.”

  What Mitch wasn’t saying spoke volumes. Collin had seen this scenario before. He’d also lived it.

  Violence. Codependence. Drugs. A mother who preferred the drugs and a violent man to the safety and well-being of herself and her child. He wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Teddy was cooking meth again, a suspicion that deserved checking into.

  The sound of a car engine had Mitchell scrubbing frantically at his face. Collin turned toward the interruption. He’d know that Mustang purr anywhere. Mia. Just who he did not want to see. A social worker who’d stick her nose into something she couldn’t fix. He was a cop. He could handle the situation far better than she could.

  Mitch leaped up, recognizing the car as well. His one good eye widened in panic. “Don’t say anything, huh, Collin?”

  Like she wouldn’t notice an eye swollen shut.

  “Go brush down the colt and give him a block of hay,” he said, giving the kid an out. If Mia didn’t see him, she wouldn’t ask questions, and no one would have to lie.

  Mitch shot out of the pen, disappearing into the far stall.

  Collin picked up an empty feed sack and crushed it into a ball.

  His world had been orderly and uneventful until Mia had come barging into it, hounding him, talking until he’d said yes to shut her up. And then her family had gotten in on the deal. First the birthday party. Then Adam’s help with the lawsuit. And now Leo, Mia’s father, found daily reasons why Collin had to stop by the bakery. Try as he might, Collin couldn’t seem to say no.

  Man. What had he gotten himself into?

  The colt whickered. One of the dogs started barking. And the whole menagerie began moving restlessly.

  Collin didn’t rush out to greet his visitor. He needed some time to think. Still baffled by Mia’s stubbornness over something as simple as looking into a file, he wasn’t sure what to say to her.

  They didn’t share the same sense of justice. He believed in obeying the law, but there was a difference in the spirit of the law and the letter of the law. To him, opening his own brothers’ adoption files, if they existed, would fall under the spirit of the law. It was the right and just thing to do.

  But he had to be fair to Mia, too. She’d gone above and beyond the call of duty in searching those moldy old files in the first place. And even if she was a pain in the backside sometimes, having her around lightened him somehow, as if the goodness in her could rub off.

  After a minute’s struggle, Collin decided to wait her out. Mia knew where he was if she had something to say. He’d known from the start he didn’t want the grief of some woman trying to get inside his head. He had enough trouble inside there himself.

  He went to work scrubbing down a newly emptied pen. The last stray, hit by a car, hadn’t made it. He’d been hungry too long to have the strength to fight.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, when Mia hadn’t come storming inside the barn, smiling and rattling off at the mouth, Collin began to wonder if he’d heard her car at all. He dumped the last of the bleach water over the metal security cage and went to find out.

  Sure enough, Mia’s yellow Mustang sat in his driveway but she was nowhere to be seen.

  Mitch came to stand beside him, one of Panda’s adolescent kittens against his chest. “Where is she?”

  “Beats me.”

  At that very moment, she flounced around the side of the house, her sweater flapping open in the stiff wind. She wasn’t wearing her usual smile. Almond eyes shooting sparks, she marched right up to Collin.

  “I don’t stop being a friend because of a disagreement.”

  That didn’t surprise him. The sudden lift in his mood did. Renewed energy shot through his tired muscles. He hid a smile. Mia was pretty cute when she got all wound up.

  She slapped a wooden spoon against his chest.

  “I brought food. Home-cooked.” She tilted her head in a smug look. “And you are going to love it.”

  He fought the temptation to laugh. Normally, when a woman pushed too hard, she was history, but with Mia he couldn’t stay upset. That fact troubled him, but there it was.

  Unmindful of the sparks flying between the adults, Mitch stepped between them. “Food. Cool.”

  Mia started to say something then stopped. Her mouth dropped open. She stared at Mitchell’s bruised face, expression horrified. “What happened to you?”

  Mitchell shot Collin a silent plea and then hung his head, averting his battered face.

  “I got in a fight.”

  “Oh, Mitch.” And then her fingers gently grazed the boy’s cheekbone in a motherly gesture. The tension in Mitch’s shoulders visibly relaxed, but his eyes never met Mia’s.

  Collin let the lie pass for now. Whether Mitch liked the idea or not, a cop was mandated by law to share his suspicions with the proper authorities, and that was Mia. If there was any possibility that a child was in danger, welfare had a right to know. The policeman in him accepted that regardless of his personal aversion.

  “I’m starved,” he said, knowing his statement would be an effective diversion. Mia’s respondent smile washed through him warm and sweet, like a spring wind through a field of flowers. “Cleaning pens can wait until after dinner.”

  “Not mad at me anymore?” she asked.

  Quirking one brow, he started toward the house and left her to figure that out for herself. He wasn’t sure he knew the answer anyway.

  The early sunsets of November were upon them and the wind blew from the north promising a change in weather. Leaves loosened their tree-grip and tumbled like tiny, colorful gymnasts across the neatly fenced lots housing the grazers. The deer with the bad hip had healed and now roamed restlessly up and down the fence line longing to run free. Collin and Doc had decided to wait until after hunting season ended to give the young buck a fighting chance.

  When they reached the house, Collin opened the door and let Mia and Mitchell enter first. The smell of Italian seasoning rushed out and swirled around his nose.

  “Smells great. What is it?” Not that he cared—a home-cooked Italian dinner was too good to pass up. Especially one cooked by Mia.

  “Lasagna. Wash your hands. Both of you.” She shooed them toward the sink. “Food’s stil
l hot.”

  Along with Mitchell, he meekly did as he was told, scrubbing at the kitchen sink. If anyone else came into his house issuing orders and rummaging in his cabinets, he would be furious. Weird that he wasn’t bothered much at all.

  While Mia rattled forks and thumped plates onto his tiny table, he murmured to Mitch, “A lie will always come back to bite you. Better tell her.”

  Mitchell darted a quick glance at Mia and gave his head a slight shake, his too-long hair flopping forward to hide his expression. Collin let the subject drop. For now.

  Moments later, they dug into the meal. Collin could barely contain a moan of pleasure.

  Lifting a forkful of steaming noodles and melted mozzarella, he said, “If this is your idea of a peace offering, I’ll get mad at you more often.”

  Mia sliced a loaf of bread and pushed the platter toward him. Steam curled upward, bringing the scent of garlic and yeast.

  “There are still things I can do to help, Collin. Unlike foster-care files, many of the adoption files have been computerized. I started searching the open ones today.”

  He took a chunk of the bread and slathered on a pat of real butter. “Are the sealed files on computer, too?”

  There was a beat of silence, and then, “It doesn’t matter.”

  She wasn’t budging from her hard-nosed stand.

  “After all the years I’ve searched and come up empty, I think the adoption files are the answer. They have to be.”

  Mitchell was already digging in for seconds. “Why are you trying to get into adoption files?”

  Collin started. He never spoke openly about his brothers or his past. He’d never before said a word about them in front of Mitchell. Was this what hanging around with a chatterbox did for a guy? He started to lie to the boy, and then remembered his words only moments before. A lie would always come back to haunt you.

  “I’m looking for my brothers,” he said honestly. “We were separated in foster care as kids.”

  Saying the words aloud didn’t seem so hard this time.

  “No kidding?” Mitch backhanded a string of cheese from his mouth. “You were a foster kid?”

  “Yeah. I was.” He held his breath. Would the knowledge lessen him in Mitchell’s eyes?