Her Christmas Protector (6 page)

What kind of idiot am I?
Luke tightened the stirrup strap with a hard yank, drawing a snort from his horse, Winter.

“Sorry, boy,” Luke muttered to the big, black beast.

It’s a family matter.

My ex-husband.

The idea of Faith being married made something inside Luke cringe and grow hot. A curious burning sparked low in his abdomen and slowly worked its way up into his chest. He dropped his head to Winter’s neck.

I’m struggling here, God. Really struggling. I need to stay focused on what I want. On what You want for me.

An image of Faith, her tear-filled eyes looking at him so defenselessly slammed into his mind. His heart ached. Resolutely, he pushed her from his mind.

My career, Lord. That’s what I should be focused on. I want to get back to my life, my ministry. The men need me.

More images of Faith barged into his consciousness.

The first time he’d laid eyes on her, standing in the doorway of the diner, her expression wary. Haunted.

Faith nuzzling a llama. The soft smile curving her lips. The look of contentment in her eyes.

The panic when he’d told her about the P.I.

The way her eyes had widened when he’d admitted he liked her.

Frustration ripped through him, leaving an aching wound in its wake. Muttering, he shook his head. “Cut it out. You’re leaving and she has no place in your life.”

A verse of scripture came to him. Luke closed his eyes. ‘Bear one another’s burdens, and thus fulfill the law of Christ.’

He’d been trying to live that verse through his work in the military. Now he was to take on Faith’s burden, too?

He couldn’t turn his back on her.

Not like he’d done with his father. His chest squeezed tight. If he’d cared more for his parents than himself and his career, maybe his father wouldn’t have gotten so sick. And his mother wouldn’t have had a heart attack.

His shoulders weighted down with guilt and remorse for his selfishness, he led Winter out of the stall. He needed to ride and clear his thoughts, but as he mounted Winter he glanced up and saw Faith at the window.

Her image was forever branded in his mind.

Faith went to the window in Dottie’s room, again. She scanned the distance for any sign of Luke. It’d been hours since she’d seen him gallop off, kicking up mud and snow. She hoped he wasn’t angry with her, or worse, disappointed. His opinion mattered to her. Though why, didn’t make sense.

“Is something the matter, Faith?” Dottie asked, pausing in her daily routine of walking around the upstairs to get some exercise.

The late afternoon sun danced on the glistening snow. “Oh, no. I was just thinking how beautiful it is outside.”

“It is nice out. I think we should go out and enjoy what’s left of the afternoon while we can.” An eager smile lit Dottie’s features, making her appear healthy and younger than her fifty-eight years. “I heard the weatherman say we’d be seeing more snowfall within a few days.”

“Then let’s enjoy today while it’s clear.”

“Sounds good to me. Shall we go outside?”

“Let’s.”

It might even help take her mind off her troubles.

Taking Dottie by the arm, Faith helped her down the stairs. After the first venture outdoors with Luke’s help, Faith had managed to help Dottie herself, thanks to Dottie’s returning strength.

They could hear Reva in the kitchen and by silent agreement they went out the front door. As they went down the porch stairs, Faith scanned the road in the distance. A pickup truck carrying bales of hay went by. On the left side of the drive, beyond the fence, the llamas stood in small groups, grazing on scattered hay. The corral on the right side of the drive stood empty.

“I love days like this.” Dottie turned her face up to the sun. “Blake used to say the clean, fresh winter air made the move to Oregon worthwhile.”

“You didn’t always live here?”

“Oh, no. Blake and I were originally from Salt Water, Texas. We moved here right after we got married.” Dottie started down the drive toward the llamas. The snow had been shoveled off to the sides to form small mounds.

Faith fell into step with her. “Do you still have family in Texas?”

“We do. Both Blake and I have siblings still living there. Sometimes I miss not having family close by and I think Luke missed out, too.” Regret crept into Dottie’s voice. “We weren’t able to have any more children.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be. God blessed us with Luke, and Blake, bless his heart, thought of Reva as a daughter.”

“And—you didn’t?”

“No. No, we never really connected. Not even when she was little.” Dottie sighed. “Her family lived on the next ranch over. She was always coming around, getting into things. Especially after her mama ran off. Then things went from bad to worse. Her dad drank himself to death.”

“No wonder she turned to you and Blake.”

Dottie nodded. “That she did. And Blake had always hoped that one day Luke would stop thinking of Reva as a nuisance and marry her.”

Surprised by that tidbit, Faith had a better understanding of why Reva viewed her as a threat.

Reaching to nuzzle the first llama to reach them, Dottie cooed, “Ah, here are my beauties.”

“Hi there, Blondie.” Faith stroked the neck of a light-colored llama that had nudged her shoulder.

Dottie laughed. “That’s Ricky. Blondie is over by the barn.”

“Oops, sorry boy.”

“You know, someday, I hope I’ll have some grandbabies to spoil.” Dottie gave Faith a sidelong glance over Ricky’s head.

Faith stared ahead, choosing not to interpret Dottie’s look. Instead, she fought down a sudden wave of jealousy for the woman Luke would someday marry and have children with. “You know there’s only fifteen days left until Christmas.”

Dottie’s gaze clouded. “I’d forgotten. I usually have decorations up right after Thanskgiving, but—” Dottie sighed. “I haven’t been in a very festive mood.”

“That’s understandable.”

Taking Faith’s arm, Dottie said, “But it’s time to throw off the melancholy and get ready to celebrate the birth of Jesus. When Luke gets back he can get the decorations from the attic.”

“That would be wonderful,” Faith agreed.

This Christmas would be a celebration. She was free of Vinnie and with people she cared about.

What more could she ask for?

L
uke stretched out his legs, his muscles tight from today’s ride. He watched Faith sitting across the living room, her hands clenched tightly. She was still upset. The paleness of her skin concerned him. But she had no reason now to be afraid.

The private investigator was more than likely flying over the Canadian border by now.

For his part, the ride this afternoon had done nothing to dispel his frustration, because his thoughts had centered on Faith, alternating between the trouble she was hiding from and his growing attraction to her.

“Did you enjoy your dinner, Luke?” Reva leaned her hip on the arm of the chair he sat in. Something about the way she’d been overly sweet this evening set off warning signals in his brain.

He gave her a considering look. “Yes, you did a fine job, as usual.”

With a satisfied smile, Reva walked back into the kitchen.

Hoping to catch a moment alone with Faith so they could talk, he asked, “Are you heading upstairs, Mother?”

“No, actually. I’m feeling very perky this evening,” Dottie said.

Faith glanced up with a wan smile and rose. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go to my room now.”

Concern arched through Luke. “Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you. You both have been more than kind,” she stated and went upstairs.

Luke debated following her. He really wanted to know more, but decided he had to let it go. He couldn’t get too involved. “Can I get you some tea, Mom?”

Settling back in the cushy chair, Dottie patted his arm. “No, I’m good.” She picked up the remote. “I’ll just catch up on the news.”

“I’m going to check on Lucy. I’ll be back in a few.” He turned to go.

“Luke?”

He stopped. “Yes, Mom?”

“Tomorrow would you bring in the Christmas decorations from the attic?”

His heart squeezed tight. Christmas without his father here was going to be tough. “Are you sure?”

Though her eyes misted, she nodded.

“Then of course.”

“I think it will be good for Faith and I to decorate. Take her mind off whatever troubles her.”

Family business.
“I’m sure she’d like that.”

“I like her,” Dottie stated.

“Me, too, Mom.”

A sage smile lifted the corners of Dottie’s mouth. “Good. Now off with you.”

“Okay, Mom.” He hoped she wasn’t getting any ideas about matchmaking. The last thing he needed was to have to be on guard from his mother’s machinations.

When he walked into the kitchen, Reva was washing dishes. Now was a prime opportunity to talk to her. He leaned against the counter. “Tell me you didn’t talk to the P.I. when you went to town.”

Her hands stilled for a moment. She turned to face him and arched a dark blonde eyebrow. “Are you talking about the man that was here earlier?” Her mouth twisted sarcastically. “I didn’t listen to your conversation.”

He couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth or not. “Thank you,” he replied.

A gleam entered her eyes. “Interesting though that a private investigator would come to the Circle C. What did he want?”

“Nothing to do with you. And let’s keep it that way.”

Her mouth smiled but her eyes turned hard like slate. “Whatever you say, Luke. I only want to make you happy.”

He frowned, not liking that statement. “You don’t have to try to make me happy. That’s not your job.”

Inclining her head, she said, “I misspoke. I only want to be of help.”

“We appreciate your help and we pay you well for it,” he stated to clarify where their relationship stood.

“I’d want to be here even if you didn’t pay me,” she stated, her gaze softening, beseeching.

Uncomfortable, he headed to the door. “Good night.”

He didn’t trust Reva not to go snooping now that he’d piqued her curiosity. Tomorrow, he decided, he’d go into town and make sure the P.I. wasn’t still hanging around.

“Costello found her.”

Bob Grady’s triumphant tone over the phone did little to appease Vince Palermo. “Where?”

“On a ranch in Sisters, Oregon. The guy that owns the place says she went to Alaska, but she’s there.”

“What’s the guy’s name,” Vince snarled.

“Luke Campbell. Do you want us to grab her?”

“Not from the ranch. That would draw too much attention. Whatever you do, don’t let her ditch you again.”

“We won’t. I’ve got a plan.”

“Good. We’ll talk again.” Vince hung up and stared out the window of his fortieth-floor office. The Manhattan skyline was shrouded in shades of gray that matched his mood. Time was running out. His fingers curled into tight fists.

He had to get his wife back or he’d lose everything.

Faith toyed with her red cloth napkin, feeling unsettled and insecure in the Turners’ home.

Get a grip and enjoy the evening.
She forced her hands still. The Turners were very gracious people and their small house was decorated with festive red bows and green sprigs of pine that grew in abundance in this area. Tea lights flicked from the center of the table and reflected in the gold-rimmed dishes full of savory foods that scented the air.

The cozy setting and friendly atmosphere was foreign to her. In her grandparents’ home, dinners were formal or taken in her room. Christmas decorations were a form of art not something taken from outside.

With Vinnie, Christmas had been a lonely time. His family gatherings had been loud and chaotic but for Faith, she’d always sat on the sideline, wishing for some type of connection.

The type she’d found with the Campbells.

Though a week passed without incident, no more P.I.’s, or anyone else showing up unannounced, Faith remained on edge.

She longed to go into town to explore the quaint old-west town decorated for the holidays. But she couldn’t afford to be seen. She’d gotten good at coming up with excuses. Too good. And she hated always having to say no to Luke and his mother.

Even when it came to attending Sunday service.

But staying alone on the ranch with only Brandy as her protection had stretched her nerves taut and made her decide that this coming Sunday she’d risk being seen and go with them to church.

However, tonight Luke and Dottie had insisted she join them at the Turners’ house for dinner and not wanting to be left alone, she’d agreed.

“A Christmas toast.” Matt Turner raised his glass of sparkling cider high.

Faith picked up her glass. The light amber liquid sloshed around the bowl but thankfully didn’t spill over the side.

“To a Merry Christmas. May we each find the blessing God has waiting for us.” Matt’s craggy face beamed at his wife.

“Hear, hear.” Sally raised her glass in one hand while she held on to Jason, her two-year-old son, who sat on her lap shredding a paper napkin. White bits of paper fell to the floor at Sally’s feet but she seemed oblivious to the mess.

Her dark eyes reflected the soft candlelight and her thick, brown hair had been pulled back into a braid that hung over one shoulder. Specks of paper stuck to her braid.

“What does ‘hear, hear’ mean, Mama?” six-year-old Gloria asked from her place at the table, next to Faith. In her little hand she held her plastic cup up high like the adults and her big brown eyes were wide with curiosity.

“It means I agree with Daddy,” Sally replied.

“Why are we holding our cups up and what’s toast got to do with it?” Gloria asked, her little nose wrinkled in puzzlement.

Luke’s deep chuckle rumbled through Faith as their gazes met across the table.

Matt answered. “It’s a tradition. You hold your glass high, say a toast, or a better phrase would be a blessing, and clink the glasses together.”

“
Gently
clink the glasses together,” Sally interjected.

Faith’s gaze went from one Turner family member to another. The love so obviously shared in this family overflowed, warming her heart. A lump formed in her throat. She ached with longing for a family of her own. Children to cherish, a husband to love. Maybe one day. One day when Vinnie was no longer tracking her.

“Dottie, will you be making pies again this year for the Christmas festival?” Sally asked as they all began to fill their plates.

Faith looked to Luke for an explanation.

“Every year the church has a big festival on Christmas Eve. The whole community gets involved.”

“Maybe with Faith’s help, I could make some pies,” Dottie announced.

Luke raised his eyebrows at his mother.

“Of course I’ll help,” Faith said and ignored the voice inside her head that cautioned she might not still be here by Christmas. If that investigator found out that she hadn’t gone to Alaska, he could come back to Sisters. And then she’d have no choice but to leave.

“That was so much fun,” Dottie exclaimed as Luke drove home from the Turners’.

“It was. Thank you for insisting I tag along,” Faith replied.

Luke smiled at her through the rearview mirror, glad to see the animation in her face. She’d been so nervous when they’d first arrived at the Turners’. But she’d quickly succumbed to the exuberance of the Turner family. Luke was grateful for his old friends and their welcoming of Faith.

He turned the Bronco on to the driveway.

“Uh-oh,” Dottie muttered. “Reva’s here.”

Luke pulled to a stop beside Reva’s red car. He’d told her she didn’t need to make dinner because they had other plans. Obviously she hadn’t believed him. He helped his mother out of the car and preceded Faith and Dottie into the dark house.

“Reva?” he called out as he flipped on the lights.

She sat at the kitchen table. Luke recognized the hard light in her eyes and the grim set to her mouth. She was spoiling for a fight. He turned his attention to his mother and Faith. “Go on up.”

Faith gave him a worried look before nodding slowly. His mother’s mouth pressed into a tight line as she preceded Faith up the stairs.

As soon as they were out of sight, Luke turned to Reva. “Did I miscommunicate to you that we had plans tonight and wouldn’t need you to come over?”

Reva crossed her arms over chest. “Where were you?”

Luke pulled out a chair and sat down. He held tight to his irritation. “Reva, don’t you think it’s time you started finding out what you want to do with your life?”

“I know what I want,” she said, her gaze boring in to him.

Luke sighed. “You and I are never going to happen.”

“Why not?” She reached out to put her hand over his. “I could make you happy.”

He pulled his hand away. “Reva, don’t do this.”

Her expression crumbled, revealing the little girl that used to follow him around.

“But I love you, Luke.”

He ran a hand over his face. He hated to hurt her, but he figured being brutally honest was the only way to get through to her. “I don’t love you. Not like a man loves a woman he wants to marry.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them rage shone in the gray depths. “It’s because of her, isn’t it?”

He didn’t have to guess who she meant. He had come to care for Faith, but her presence didn’t change his feelings for Reva. “No. This has nothing to do with anyone but me. I don’t love you. I never will. Now, I think it’s time for you to go home.”

Reva rose, and without another word, she stalked from the house.

Luke turned off the downstairs lights and then went upstairs. Faith was waiting for him in the hall. She still wore the black pants and white blouse she’d worn to dinner, but she’d released her blond hair from the rubber band that had held it back earlier. She looked so appealing in the muted light of the hall.

“She’s pretty upset,” she commented.

Her anxious expression pulled at Luke. “I know. Reva and I needed to have that talk. I should have done it a long time ago. I doubt she’ll be back.”

There was understanding in her eyes that made the harshness of what he’d done bearable.

“It’s hard to say words that you know are going to hurt someone,” she said.

“Yes. It is.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s late. You should be in bed.”

“I’m a little too keyed up to sleep, yet. I thought I’d make some tea. Would you care for some?”

He too was keyed up. “That would be great.”

They headed back down to the kitchen. Faith put on the kettle and took two mugs from the cupboard. “Herbal?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine.”

She stuck a tea bag of his mother’s favorite chamomile in each cup. They waited for the water to boil.

“Faith, tell me about your family.”

Tilting her head to one side, she considered him for a moment. “What would you like to know?”

He wanted to know about her marriage. Did she still love her ex-husband? But he couldn’t put voice to the question. Instead, he shrugged as she handed him a mug. “Start with your parents.”

Taking a seat, she placed her steaming mug on the table and ran her finger over the rim. “My parents were—eccentric. Father loved to take pictures of everything he saw, and Mother loved to write about everything she saw. They made a good team. My grandparents thought their lifestyle was—well—that it was scandalous that they chose to spend their lives running around the world, sharing their experiences through pictures and articles. Grandfather wanted Father to take over for him. But Father would always say he had no head for business.”

“Did they publish their work?”

“Oh, yes. In several of Grandfather’s travel magazines. But they did it mostly for their own enjoyment.”

“Your grandfather was a publisher?” She’d said a great deal of money, he just hadn’t realized the scale she was talking about.

“Among other things. He always said media had the pulse of the nation. He’d started out with just a newspaper when he was a young man. He slowly worked his way to running half the newspapers, radio stations and television stations across the country.”

“He was very powerful.” And with that power came pressure. The pressure she was running from. He was beginning to get a clearer picture.

Faith nodded. “For a time.”

“What happened?”