Silent Night in Dry Creek

He sat there, just enjoying the sight of her when—without any warning—a gunshot ripped through the silence. Wade looked over at Jasmine. She seemed frozen in place. With all of the light behind her, she made a perfect target.

“Get inside!” he yelled.

The sound of the shot had come from the north, so Wade bent down and drove his car as close as possible to the doorway where Jasmine had been standing.

“Lose the lights,” he ordered when he saw they were still on in the kitchen. He didn’t want someone shooting at the windows. He wondered if Lonnie had a problem with Jasmine and had sent someone to—

He shut off his car and opened his passenger door. Then he folded himself down and slid across the seat, stopping to pull his gun from the glove compartment as he passed.

Another shot rang out. That one sounded like it came from the direction of his grandfather’s back porch and Wade relaxed a little. His grandfather was probably just shooting at a coyote or something. But a wise lawman didn’t assume anything.

The night was dark and now that Wade’s car lights and the ones in the house were off, he had to rely on his memory as he tried to sprint to the kitchen door. He hadn’t run anywhere since he’d started therapy and his whole leg was throbbing in protest.

Wade twisted the knob and opened the door.

He stepped into the dark kitchen and something soft wrapped around his neck.

“A-a-rgh,” he gurgled in protest. The only light in the room was an illuminated clock that hung on the wall and it didn’t make anything but itself visible. The band around his neck loosened and he could tell it was an arm encased in leather.

He leaned back a little, preparing to make one of his defensive moves, when he realized he was settled into a womanly softness that was kind of nice. He was breathing better and, now that the lights were off, there was no reason to move. Besides, he could smell the perfume.

Maybe he got a little too comfortable in the dark leaning against her, because she whispered suspiciously. “Is that you?”

Now how did a man answer that? “Depends on who you’re expecting.”

He felt Jasmine shift her body as she took a step backward. Unfortunately, she didn’t warn him and his body twisted to go with her. A muscle cramp in his leg seized him and he could hardly breathe. He clenched his teeth to keep from hissing in pain.

A small glow of light entered the room. Jasmine had reached back and opened the refrigerator door.

“Are you all right?” she asked now as she moved away from him slightly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said hoarsely as he reached out to put his gun on the counter so he could massage his thigh. Now he could see why no one wanted to hire him until he’d conquered his leg spasms. He wasn’t healing as fast as a younger man would. If a killer had been in the room, Wade would have been helpless to stop him.

“I’m sorry,” Jasmine said as she moved closer.

The pain was leaving and in the light coming from the refrigerator he saw her misery. In the darkness, her eyes were pools of worry. He reached out and brushed her cheek, thinking to comfort her. “Who taught you about that defense hold anyway? You’re pretty good at it.”

“My old boyfriend, Lonnie,” she whispered.

He could feel her breath on the back of his hand and it sent shivers down his spine. Then she looked up at him. She was beautiful. Without thinking, he bent his head down. She raised herself up on her tiptoes. He dipped farther down. He knew they were strangers and it was only the relief she was feeling that drew her close. But he was going to kiss her anyway. He just wanted to look at her a second or two longer before he did.

Then, without warning, the kitchen door opened with a crash.

Wade lunged toward his gun. He barely felt the pain in his leg, because of the panic inside. He’d grown soft. He’d assumed his grandfather had been behind the gunshots, but this wasn’t the old man. He and Jasmine were going to die and it was all his fault.

“It’s okay,” Jasmine said quickly.

Wade thought she was talking to him until he saw the man in the doorway more clearly. Even with all of the shadows, Wade recognized Elmer as he stood there, looking ready to do battle, with a barnyard shovel in his hands.

“You all right?” Elmer asked as he flipped on the overhead light switch.

“We’re fine,” Jasmine answered as she stepped a little closer to Wade.

Elmer arched back like an attack cat.

“Who’s he?” he demanded.

The older man didn’t sound the least bit friendly, and Wade couldn’t blame him. He carefully moved his hand away from the gun on the counter.

“He came to take me to dinner,” Jasmine explained.

“He needs a gun to do that?”

“No, of course not.” Jasmine took a step away from the counter as though she’d just realized a gun sat there.

“I’m sorry to disturb—” Wade began.

Then Elmer’s fierce scowl disappeared. “Why you’re little Wade Sutton! I haven’t seen you since—”

Elmer stopped and had the grace to look flustered.

Wade nodded. “Since the day my grandfather drove my dad and me away with enough shotgun blasts to rattle the entire county. As I recall, you were mending fence and had a first-row seat.”

When he was fifteen, his father had come back from prison. He had lasted two weeks on the farm before he had a knock-down fight with Wade’s grandfather. When his father left, Wade had gone with him. He’d never returned to the farm, not even to see if the new wheat he’d planted that spring had yielded the harvest he’d expected.

“Well,” Elmer murmured. “You were a good kid even if you and your friends were messing with my Cadillac.”

“You knew?”

Elmer grinned. “I could hardly blame you for wanting to sit inside. That Cadillac was something back then.”

Wade relaxed. He was glad the man didn’t ask about his father. But then everyone in Dry Creek must have heard his father ended his crime spree in a shoot-out with the police a few months after they’d left the farm. It was the day Wade had turned sixteen and he’d begged his father to take him along. He was so glad to have his father back, he would have gone anywhere with him. His father had refused, saying he wanted Wade to stay on the right side of the law and have a decent life.

“Your grandfather always did try to solve his problems with a shotgun,” Elmer continued. “I figure that’s him shooting at the cross. I saw one of the lights go out so he must have gotten off a good one.”

If the shooter was aiming at the cross, it had to be his grandfather. At least that meant it wasn’t someone like Lonnie Denton. “You’ll have to report it to the sheriff.”

“Can’t be anyone but your grandfather,” Elmer said as he studied Wade again. “The only set of lights coming down the road was yours. It’s too dark out for someone to drive in unannounced.”

Wade nodded. He supposed that was true, too.

“I’ll give the sheriff a call after you’re gone. No point in putting it off. I already unplugged the lights and your grandfather never leaves his porch until the seven-o’clock news comes on the television.”

Wade remembered. Nothing gave the old man a better excuse to drink than the problems of the world.

“Yeah, well, I guess we should be going.” Wade noticed that Elmer was still taking his measure. Not everyone in Dry Creek would trust a Sutton these days, even if they were willing to take up a collection on his behalf.

“You take good care of my daughter,” Elmer said.

Wade looked at Jasmine. Her face was flushed. He wished he’d kissed her even if her father had been crashing in the door. It probably would be his only chance and he’d always regret not tasting her lips.

“I can take care of myself,” she said.

Elmer grunted.

“He’s just giving me a ride,” Jasmine continued. “I have some special lights on order for my motorcycle. I can’t drive it at night until I get them.”

Wade wondered why she didn’t just say she was suffering his company because the sheriff had forced them to ride together. Carl was probably laughing his head off about it right now.

“You shouldn’t be driving that bike at all,” Elmer sputtered. “A lady should ride in a car. If you don’t like driving my old Cadillac, I have a Bentley in the garage, too. And a few others.”

“I do fine with my motorcycle,” Jasmine said as she spread her hands. “I don’t need things. Not in my new life.”

Wade grunted. He wasn’t about to ask any questions just now, but he did wonder what story she’d spun for Elmer. Everyone wanted things. He didn’t trust someone who said otherwise.

“I’ve got my car outside,” Wade said as he reached over to pick up his gun from the counter. He moved his leg again and grimaced in pain.

“Here,” Elmer said as he held out a hand.

Wade took the help to steady himself. So this is what he’d come to, he thought. Depending on others like he was an old man.

“I forgot you’d damaged your leg,” Elmer said. “That’s why you can’t work.”

Wade tried to push the pain away. It was like he figured. Everyone knew about his problem. “I can get a job. Soon.”

“Well, until you do—I put in twenty bucks.”

Wade forced himself to give a short nod of thanks. He didn’t want to have to explain to every person in Dry Creek why he couldn’t take their charity. Maybe he’d ask the pastor to put a notice in the church bulletin offering to return the contributions. Maybe then they’d leave him alone.

“You need to take care of your leg,” Jasmine said as she led the way to the outside door. She picked up a small jar of jam that was sitting on the counter.

“Hostess gift,” she announced proudly.

Wade nodded. For someone who wasn’t into things, she sure knew how to spread gifts around. It was probably what made people think she was so sweet.

He picked up his gun and followed her to the door only to look back at Elmer. Apparently, Wade wasn’t the only one feeling a little down. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”

The old man didn’t say anything.

Wade opened the car door for Jasmine and she slid inside. They were at the gate leading to the main gravel road before he decided he had to know. “So was everyone there when they passed the hat for me?”

“Uh…”

“I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself.” Wade looked straight ahead. The heater was going in his car and the dials on the dash were lit up. There was nothing but darkness outside the car.

“You should take the money anyway.”

Wade looked over at her. He couldn’t see her eyes in the darkness.

“You could consider it a Christmas present if you want,” she added.

“If the people here wanted to give me a Christmas present, it would be socks.” Wade suddenly remembered the many pairs of socks he’d gotten as a boy from the people in the church here. Sometimes, he’d also get a shirt or a jacket, too. Maybe that’s why the money stung so much. He’d already received so much from these people. The kids might have believed his stories about the Christmas presents his grandfather gave him, but the adults knew better. They probably even knew there hadn’t been any cake or turkey or apple stuffing.

“If they wanted to give me the money, they could have at least asked me to dig a ditch or something. That’s honest work,” Wade muttered half to himself. “I can’t see where they think following the Christmas angel around could be anything at all.”

“What?”

Wade heard the surprise in her voice and could have kicked himself. He was not himself tonight.

“They wanted you to follow me?” she asked.

“I could be mistaken,” Wade said. “I—ah—it might have been one of the wise men.”

Jasmine wasn’t paying any attention to him. “I can’t believe they’d ask you to follow me. What do they think—that I’m going to steal from somebody?”

“Oh, no,” Wade said. Now he’d really done it. “The sheriff made it very clear that no one suspects you of anything. I was to protect you.”

“From who? I can take care of myself.”

Wade didn’t know how to answer that. “The sheriff had a hunch. That’s all. He’s worried about Lonnie.”

“Lonnie’s in jail.”

“I know.”

They were both silent for a moment.

“I don’t need anyone to follow me around,” Jasmine repeated. “I’m trying to start a new life and be a regular person—”

Wade had the alarming feeling she might cry.

“Well, don’t worry,” he said. It was the only comfort he could offer. “I’m not doing it.”

“I should hope not,” Jasmine said, and that was the last conversation they had until she pointed out the turnoff to the sheriff’s house.

Wade knew he was leaving tomorrow, but he didn’t want anyone to be upset when he did. Especially not Jasmine. He’d been stealing glances at her all the way down those lonely roads. He had the shadow of her profile clearly in his mind. He told himself it was in case he ever needed to pick her out of a lineup, but that wasn’t it. He stole another glance at her. He just wanted to remember her.

“If you ever get down around Idaho Falls, be sure and give me a call,” he found himself saying. “We could maybe have dinner or—”

She turned to look at him indignantly. “You don’t have to ask me out. Or follow me. Or anything.”

“Okay, well—” Wade knew when to step away from the firing line.

“Thanks anyway,” Jasmine said, none too politely. “It was kind of you to offer.”

It was crazy of him to offer, Wade figured. But he’d done it anyway. He supposed it was just because, back in the kitchen, he’d felt some emotion stirring. It was probably all that talk reminding him he’d once been the angel. He’d put that experience completely out of his mind. Who wanted to remember the time they’d mortified themselves in front of everyone they knew? But maybe some vestige of it had clung to his soul anyway.

He pulled the car to a halt in front of the Walls’ house. The windows were decorated with Christmas lights and tall wooden candy canes lined the path up to the front door. Light and laughter spilled out the windows.

Even when he’d been in the pageant, he’d dreaded Christmas. Wade wondered if he was ever going to be on the right side of the holiday. He glanced over at Jasmine. He wondered if she knew she had a frown on her face as she marched up the sidewalk to the house. Then he realized he had one, too.

At times like this he wished he had someone to arrest.

Chapter Four

Jasmine had lost what little Christmas cheer she had. She was sitting on the sofa in the Walls’ living room with a glass of cold spiced cider in one hand and a piece of stuffed celery in the other. Carols were playing on the stereo system and she’d just let her misery overflow to Edith, the only other person in the room. The older woman was sitting next to her on a straight-backed oak chair.

“Oh, dear, no, we’d never pay someone to take you out,” Edith protested.

“Not take me out,” Jasmine corrected in the whisper she’d been using to tell the story. “Follow me around.”

“Oh, Wade wouldn’t do that. Goodness, no. You must have heard him wrong.” Edith’s short gray hair was tightly permed and her waves shook along with her head. She had a worried look on her kindly face and her white magnetic necklace hung above a red checked housedress in an attempt at seasonal fashion. “Besides, Wade isn’t the man we have in mind for you anyway.”

“You have someone in mind for me?” Jasmine looked around to be sure no one else had walked back into the living room. It sounded like they were all still in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on that coconut cake.

“Well, just Conrad. You know he’s a sweet man. A little shy maybe, but…Of course, it’s just a suggestion. For when you’re ready to date.”

“I don’t need to date anyone,” Jasmine said firmly. She supposed a husband like Conrad made sense given the fact that she wanted a regular life. But somehow the prospect seemed a little suffocating right now. Of course, he was a good mechanic. She liked that, but—“No one needs to worry about me. Maybe Wade can do whatever he’s supposed to do with someone else.”

“Yes, well, maybe. I thought he was going to help the sheriff, though,” Edith conceded as she rubbed her hand around her wrist. “Maybe he could be a security guard at the barn now that we’re setting up the stage. With the pageant being this Monday—”

“Do you want an aspirin?” Jasmine asked. Everyone knew the older woman suffered from arthritis on cold evenings. Her wrist must be hurting.

Edith shook her head. “I’ll be fine. And don’t worry about Wade. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“He said he’d rather dig ditches than have anything to do with me.” Jasmine didn’t realize how peevish she sounded until she saw a spark of interest light up her friend’s eyes.

“Not that I want him to,” Jasmine added firmly. “He’s just a test from God anyway.”

Edith looked a little startled. “In what way?”

Jasmine wished she’d left that last part out. “Oh, you know, old feelings.”

She’d already decided that, when she’d almost kissed him in her father’s kitchen, it had just been because of the rush of adrenaline that had raced through her after the gunshots. It was a natural response. Guns always made her nervous these days. It had nothing to do with the way Wade’s eyes made her feel. Or the way the line of his chin looked so strong. Or—

“I don’t know that God sends us people as tests,” Edith said gently, interrupting her thoughts.

They were silent for a moment, Jasmine taking a sip of her cider and Edith taking a drink from the glass of water by her side.

“I must admit Wade’s a handsome man,” Edith finally said. “I can see why you’d be interested.”

“I’m not—”

Edith just kept going. “The problem is that he has it in his head he can’t really trust anyone. He refuses to even have a partner on the job. Until he does, I can’t see him being married. Not happily. And he doesn’t have much use for God, either. I blame myself for that.”

“You?” Jasmine set her glass of cider down. “How can it possibly be your fault?”

“I should have taken him to live with me and my husband. It wasn’t good for him to rattle around in that house with his grandfather. The man wasn’t even sober most of the time. He would have given the boy up for a case of cheap wine. I thought a couple of times of making him an offer, but I kept hoping things would get better. How could a boy, living with someone like that, trust anyone?”

“He looks like he turned out fine.” Jasmine offered what comfort she could.

“Yes, in some ways,” Edith said slowly. “Carl says he’s got a spotless reputation. Determined and smart. He never bends the rules. Always by the book. Other lawmen look up to him.”

Jasmine swallowed. She wondered why a man like that had been tempted to kiss her.

“He’s a good boy,” Edith finished. “Even if he hasn’t answered the letter I wrote him about his grandfather.”

“It sounds like Mr. Sutton cooked some grand meals in his time.” Jasmine grabbed at a new topic like a lifeline. She’d been in the kitchen earlier when Barbara had been asking Wade about the cake his grandfather used to bake. The raspberry filling apparently had orange flavoring in it, too.

“That cake is the very reason I should have taken Wade in. I knew back then it was too good to be true.”

Just then a burst of laughter came from the kitchen.

“Sounds like they’re having fun,” Jasmine said.

Edith nodded and started to stand up. “No point in us sitting out here when the excitement’s in there.”

Wade was holding the frosting spoon in his hand, feeling like a fraud. Carl’s two kids had taken Charley outside to see their kittens and he and Carl were standing at the center counter in the kitchen. Two round circles of white cake sat on wire racks. A bowl of raspberries sat beside them.

Carl’s petite, dark-haired wife, Barbara, said she’d followed Carl’s crumpled up old recipe as best she could but that she had waited for Wade to get there to assemble the Christmas Fantasy Cake. He’d been dumbstruck that she’d baked it.

“You say your grandfather found the cake in a magazine?” Barbara was asking as she turned the bowl of icing slightly. She was standing at the side counter so she’d have room to move around the cake. “I hope that you don’t mind that I named it. Did your grandfather call it anything special?”

“All I know is there was a picture of it in Good Housekeeping.” Wade remembered his mother’s magazine like he’d been holding it yesterday. It was the one thing in the whole story that was true. He wondered how he was going to carefully unravel his lies without destroying Barbara’s enthusiasm. “My grandfather really wasn’t much of a cook.”

“Well, maybe not every day, but on Christmas. Uhmmm,” Carl said with a smile as he looked down at his Barbara with love in his eyes. “I used to spend half of Christmas thinking about Wade over there eating that cake. I wished my mother’s fruitcake was half as good. And then I found you and you made the cake for us.”

Carl gave his wife a quick kiss. “You’re a great cook.”

Wade felt hollow. “I may have exaggerated the cake back then.”

“I wondered how you got the fresh raspberries for the filling,” Barbara said with a smile. Her face was pink with pleasure from the kiss she’d received. “Carl insisted they had to be fresh, but all I could find was frozen.”

Just then Edith and Jasmine walked into the kitchen.

Barbara turned to Edith. “Do raspberries grow wild around here at all? I know the chokecherries do and I’ve heard of some wild strawberries over by the Redfern place.”

Wade knew he was in trouble. Edith had been inside his grandfather’s house. The top of the stove had always been piled high with empty liquor bottles. She must know the stories of cake and turkey dinners had been false. His grandfather could barely make toast. Wade had lived on peanut butter sandwiches and the bruised apples his grandfather bought by the case from a wholesale place in Washington.

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