Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for Christmas\Her Montana Christmas\An Amish Christmas Journey\Yuletide Baby (11 page)

“But you're a Templeton on your mother's side,” Ethan pointed out, “and my impression is that the Templetons can hold their own with the Shaws status-wise. Perhaps even eclipse them.”

“Well, my mother certainly thinks so, and that's part of the problem. I've been befriended for my connections with the Templetons enough to know how unwelcome hangers-on can be, and when you add in the Masseys and the gold...”

Ethan shook his head. “The Masseys I get, sort of, with Faith marrying into that family and them being ridiculously wealthy, but what's this about gold?”

Robin rose, turned and leaned back against the pew behind her. “Rusty claims that Lucy told him the time capsule contained a fortune in gold meant for the heirs of the Shaws and the Masseys.”

Ethan blew out a long breath, then, sitting back and crossing his arms, he considered. “But when the time capsule turned up, it only contained historical documents and old photos and mementos.”

“Exactly.”

“So you think whoever stole the time capsule took it for the gold.”

“And that had to be someone who
knew
about the gold.”

“Hmm. Well, that probably means one of the Masseys or the Shaws, and that most likely means...” Ethan looked up suddenly. “You think Jackson Shaw took that gold!”

“Rusty does,” Robin confirmed, “and it makes sense. Jackson could have taken it either to try to prevent the bridge from reopening or to keep the Masseys from getting their share of it because Silas
did
actually loot the bank before he left town, and the Shaws had to make good for that.”

“Or for both reasons,” Ethan mused.

“So you see why I'm reluctant now to tell the Shaws that we're related.”

“You're afraid they'll think you're just after your share of the gold.”

“Wouldn't you think so?”

“Not after I got to know you, and they all know you by now, Robin.”

“Jackson doesn't! Not really. None of them do. They just
think
they do, but when they find out that I haven't been honest with them, you can see what conclusions they'll draw.”

Ethan spread his hands. “Look, you don't know that Jackson took the gold. It could have been Pete Daniels like everyone suspects. Or someone no one suspects. And even if you're right about Jackson, you could just refuse any part of the gold.”

“I can't do that! I'm not supposed to even know about the gold. No one is.”

Ethan threw up his hands. “What a mess!”

“I know,” Robin agreed, “and the worst part is that if Jackson believes I'm trying to horn in on the gold, he might decide to force me out of town.”

Ethan shot to his feet. “Now, wait a minute.”

“He could. You know he could.”

“We won't let that happen,” Ethan promised. “I know he's used to getting his own way, and he has lots of influence around here, but he can be reasoned with. I've had plenty of dealings with him already, and I—”

“No.” She put out an unsteady hand, saying, “If he can do it to me, he can do it to you, too.”

Ethan felt as if a shaft of sunlight had pierced his chest. “You sweetheart. You said it, but I didn't understand. That's why you didn't want to tell me. You're trying to protect me!”

She blinked rapidly, her hand sneaking up to press a fingertip against that little spot beneath her eyebrow. “Mostly I was afraid you'd be disappointed in me,” she confessed.

“Disappointed?”

“I lied. All these months, I've been living a lie. I didn't come to town to write about genealogy. I came to prove my great-grandmother's story and meet my Montana family.”

“And you thought I'd condemn you for that? How could I possibly when everything you've done has shown me that you're the dearest, sweetest, kindest, most caring, generous—”

She lurched forward and kissed him, pressing her lips to his. He slid his hands around the slender curve of her waist, smiling against her lips and feeling her arms creep around him.

Breaking the kiss, he rocked her gently side to side and laid his nose against hers, whispering, “We are a pair, you and I, with our secrets and our fears.”

“I'm so glad I told you,” she said, “but it doesn't change anything, you know.”

“Oh, but it does,” he told her. “The truth always changes us, Robin. The Bible says it sets us free. Of our fears, if nothing else.”

“I'm sure that's true,” she agreed, pulling away to trail a hand over the back of the pew in front of them, “but I can't see any way for this to end with me staying in Jasper Gulch.”

“Don't say that,” he pleaded.

“It's true, though, Ethan,” she argued. “I've thought and thought, and I've prayed and prayed, and no matter how I look at this, I don't see Jackson Shaw welcoming me into the family. I don't have the kind of proof that would stand up in a court of law, and I'm afraid that's what it would take for him.”

Ethan couldn't dispute that. “He's a proud man but a Christian.”

“His family is more important to him than even this town,” Robin pointed out, “and he's been mayor here practically his whole adult life.”

“But you're not a threat to his family.”

“Ethan, he's fought against reopening the bridge all these years because he believes Lucy died going off it in a car accident. Do you really believe he'll consider my story as anything other than a threat to the very fabric of the family history? My delay in coming forward and the gold just give him more reason to believe that.”

“So what do you propose to do?” Ethan wanted to know. “Live with the lie? I can tell you from experience that it isn't easy to do.”

She shook her head. “I don't think I could. Not here anyway. How could I see Faith and Julie and Cord and the others every day, knowing we're kin, and keep a secret this big? The way I see it, I either leave without saying anything, or I tell them, they reject everything I have to say and me along with it and then I go. But either way, I'll be headed back to New Mexico by the first of the year.”

“Or they could believe you,” Ethan proposed hopefully.

“You know that isn't likely.”

“Say they don't believe you, then,” he pressed. “That doesn't mean you have to go. I agree that Jackson might try to force you out if only to quash your story, but that doesn't mean he will or that he can. Stand your ground. Tell them the truth, then stay and fight for it. Rusty will back you. You know he will.”

“And what about you?” she asked, smiling softly. “Will you stand with me, Ethan?”

He clasped her hand in his. “Of course I will! It goes without saying.”

To his dismay, she pulled free. “All the more reason to go. I won't let Jackson hurt you. I know how much you love it here. You told me that day up at Gazebo. Remember?”

He remembered, and he wished he could have the words back now.

“That's not important.”

“Of course it is. I'm not so worried about Rusty. What can Jackson really take from Rusty? But you...you could lose your pastorate over this and have to leave Jasper Gulch. I won't let you lose your church and your home, not because of me.”

She pushed past him into the aisle, snagged her costume by the hanger and started for the door. He could see that it wouldn't do any good to argue with her about this, not now, but he couldn't let her go just yet, either.

“Robin, wait!” he called, hurrying to catch up to her. “I haven't thanked you.”

“For what?” she asked, letting him turn her to face him.

“For trusting me with your secret. It means more to me than you know.”

Smiling, she lifted a hand to his cheek. “Good night, Ethan, and merry Christmas.”

He looped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug, laying his cheek against her crown. “Merry Christmas. Don't give up hope. I'll be praying about this whole matter.”

Oh, would he pray. He'd pray that God would give her wisdom and courage. He'd pray that the Shaws would know the truth when they heard it. He'd pray that she would at last be able to claim the family for which she so obviously longed. He'd pray that Jackson's conscience wouldn't let him do the wrong thing. Mostly, though, he'd pray that God would make a way for her to stay in Jasper Gulch, long enough at least for Ethan to confess all she needed to know about him.

He wouldn't ask that she open her heart to him or that her family somehow approve of a minister who'd come from the wrong side of the tracks in L.A. He asked only that he be able to repay her trust in kind. Because anything else was simply unthinkable now.

Meanwhile, it was time he got serious about revealing his true self to his own congregation. The results of that he would leave entirely to God. It wasn't up to Jackson Shaw how long or short a time Ethan spent in Jasper Gulch. That was God's call alone, and somehow Ethan had to make Robin understand that elemental truth about his calling—one he himself had been in danger of forgetting until God had brought a certain wonderful young lady into his life.

Chapter Eleven

T
hat Sunday, Ethan used the text about Joseph and Mary fleeing into Egypt with the newborn baby Jesus to talk about second chances. He compared Herod's slaughter of male children in an effort to kill the foretold Hebrew king to the gang violence in his own old Los Angeles–area neighborhood. He talked about how common it was for his neighbors and classmates to have family members in jail. Then he admitted that he'd counted himself fortunate not to be among them, only to have his father wind up in prison for manslaughter while he was away in college. He didn't mention Colleen or that his brother-in-law had been his father's victim. He did freely admit that only the influence of a tough, seasoned pastor had saved him, Ethan, from the streets and guided him to a better way of life. Ethan then contrasted his own “moment of calling” to Joseph being warned in a dream.

“God still speaks to us,” he proclaimed, “in ways both big and small. You have but to listen and to want to hear what He actually has to say. Too often,” he pointed out, “we only hear what we want to hear, and then we have the audacity to say that God no longer speaks.”

Robin, at least, seemed visibly moved, but then, she already knew the story. She came at once to his side after the sermon, taking a place next to him at the back of the sanctuary. The McGuires were right behind her.

“You're not just a surfer boy after all,” Mick McGuire said as he pumped Ethan's hand.

“Not much of a surfer
at
all, in fact,” Ethan replied.

“First-rate preacher, though,” Mick stated, moving off with a grin.

Jack reached past Olivia to offer his own hand, saying, “I'll second that.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

“That wasn't the typical Sunday-before-Christmas sermon, though,” Olivia said, lifting her eyebrows.

“But a fine one,” Jack insisted. “I knew there was depth to you, Ethan. I just didn't know how much.”

“More than you may suspect,” Ethan warned, still smiling as the McGuires filed past on their way out of the sanctuary.

“Enough, I'll warrant, to make you stick around and do well in these parts,” said another, all-too-familiar voice. Beside him, Ethan felt Robin cringe as she faced the Shaws.

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” Ethan returned easily. “That's a welcome vote of confidence.”

“We like our pastors with bottom,” Jackson said in his hearty baritone. “No one wants a pastor without a firm foundation beneath him.” Standing an inch or so taller than Ethan's own six feet, the mayor cut an imposing figure. Broad-shouldered and long-limbed, he'd have been barrel-chested with just a little more weight. His wavy dark brown hair showed silver at the temples in deference to his sixty-some years, but his pale blue eyes held all the steel of a much younger man. “You'll do,” he told Ethan, his gaze gliding over Robin with interest.

Ethan wrapped an arm around her waist and squeezed encouragingly. To his surprise, he felt her square her shoulders.

An instant later, she stepped out of his embrace and said, “Mayor Shaw, would it be possible for me to meet with you, your wife and children this afternoon?”

Ethan caught his breath. Had she finally decided to tell the Shaws why she had come to Jasper Gulch?

Jackson seemed taken aback. “Well, I...” He looked to his wife, Nadine.

“Of course,” Nadine said, putting on a polite smile. “But if this is about the wedding decorations, we're fine with everything but the pageant set.”

“Uh, actually this is sort of a...historical issue,” Robin hedged.

Ethan sent up a silent prayer of praise as the Shaws exchanged glances.

“You need the family for that?” Jackson asked. “Isn't that more of a museum issue?”

“Um, well, the Shaws are integral to the situation, you see,” Robin said, gulping. “It's, ah, difficult to explain, but I'll try to be brief.”

Jackson shrugged and said, “Might as well come for dinner.”

“Oh, no.” Robin shook her head. “I couldn't possibly.”

“Can you come about two-thirty or three, then?” Nadine asked. “That should give us time to finish up and clear away, but any later than that and everyone will scatter.”

“Before three,” Robin answered.

“See you then,” the mayor said, offering his arm to Nadine.

They walked off, their heads together.

Ethan reached out and squeezed Robin's hand. She stood beside him as he greeted several more people. Every comment about the sermon was positive, and he thanked God for them, even as he felt Robin drawing up tighter and tighter beside him. Oh, if only her own attempt at revelation would work out so well.

Sensing her turmoil, Ethan squeezed her hand. “Help me close up,” he said, “then you can join me for Sunday dinner. Unless you have other plans.”

“That would be most welcome,” she admitted. “Otherwise I fear I'll lose my nerve.”

“For what it's worth,” he told her, “I think you're doing the right thing.”

“Bless you for saying so.”

“I hope you'll bless me still if the roast beef is shriveled into blackened hockey pucks,” he joked.
Or if the Shaws do not welcome you into the family.

Chuckling, she moved away to switch off lights. He went to start locking doors and pray that her joy would far surpass his before all was said and done.

* * *

Within a quarter hour they were bundling into their outerwear. Leaving her hybrid in the church parking lot, they simply walked over to the neat little white bungalow that was the parsonage. Guessing that it was built in the early 1940s, Robin took in the deep front porch across the front, the multipaned door standing between two large windows and the dormer window upstairs that overlooked the front yard.

Ethan surprised her by walking up the steps and across the porch to turn the knob on a door that he'd clearly left unlocked. Robin blinked at that.

“What?” he asked. “This is Jasper Gulch, and I don't have much worth taking anyway.”

“But you're so careful to lock up the church.”

“That's different. That's God's house. It can't be left to unthinking vandals. Besides, I've been talking to the governing board about building a small chapel that can be left open for prayer and shelter. God's house should always be available to those in need, even when no one can be on hand. Don't you think?”

She smiled. “I do, now that you mention it. And what does the board say?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Mayor Shaw is of the opinion that any fund-raising project ought to wait until after the centennial celebrations conclude.”

“Well, that's ten days away.”

“So it is.” With that, he pushed open the door, revealing the polished wood of a central hall that ran almost the full length of the house. They stepped inside, and he closed the door behind them. The staircase started at the back of the hall, rising above them and making a space for a coat closet next to a door with glass insets. He took her coat and hung it with his in the tiny closet beneath the stairs, stowing her handbag on the shelf above the rod.

“The best thing about this house is the study,” he said, indicating the room behind the door with the glass insets. “It has great shelving for my books, and looks out onto the porch so I can always see who's come to call.” He gestured to the room opposite.

The wide, open archway required no door. His one Christmas decoration was a somewhat tattered crocheted angel that hung from the apex of the arch.

“It used to belong to my mother,” he explained, inviting her into the living room with a wave of his hand.

Though smallish, the living room was cozy and comfortable with the rock fireplace and its impressive, if narrow, hearth. Opening off the living room stood the dining room, and beyond that, the kitchen. Across from the dining room, with a slanted door beneath the narrow staircase, was a bedroom, which opened into the study and a bathroom at the back of the house. Upstairs was a single large bedroom with a roomy closet and a second more modern bath.

“Such a lot of doors,” Robin said, coming back down the narrow stairs.

“Mmm-hmm, but it works. They packed a lot of house into a relatively small space, didn't they?”

“They certainly did.”

“Let me check our dinner, then I'll show you my second-favorite part of the house,” he said, leading her back to the kitchen.

Dinner turned out to be slices of frozen roast beef in gravy, along with baking potatoes and cans of carrots and green beans sitting on the counter. While he checked the entrée, peeling back the foil lid on the disposable tin pan, she looked around. White-painted cabinets and floors gave the room a bright, clean aura, while pale granite countertops and almond-colored appliances kept the space from feeling surgical. She'd have added some fluttery curtains and a few pots of fresh herbs, along with a selection of attractive dish towels and pot holders.

The rest of the house could use some personal touches, too. The living room contained only a nice flat-screen television, a comfortable, if worn, leather chair and a tweed sofa that had seen better days, with a single occasional table between them. The bed downstairs had no headboard. The dresser was rickety, and Ethan used a dining chair as a bedside table and clotheshorse. Her favorite pieces in the house were the antique dining table, china cabinet, which was empty, and chairs. He set the dark cherrywood table with place mats and simple white plates, tan napkins and inexpensive flatware. When she asked, he told her that he'd bought the dining suite and desk from the previous pastor, who'd felt they were too large for his new place in Colorado.

Ethan turned off the oven, opened cans, dumped the contents into bowls and set the bowls into the microwave to heat before herding her into the small mudroom. Leaning down, he hooked a finger in a hole in one of the floorboards, all of which were painted in the back part of the house, and hoisted it upward. An entire section of floor folded back on hinges, revealing a second narrow staircase. He hit a switch, and a light flickered on below, revealing a room ringed with shelves.

Robin went down in front of him to find herself in a well-lit storage area. Someone had set up a workbench, but she didn't see many tools there now. Instead, Ethan had put in a weight bench and boxing bag. His gloves lay on the workbench.

“Welcome to the Johnson gym,” he said. She laughed. “Or the root cellar, as the church ladies call it.”

“A root cellar?” Robin parroted. “I don't think so. What great storage, though.”

“Next to the study and the bedroom, I spend more time here than anywhere else in the house.”

She shot him an amused look. “That's a very ‘guy' admission.”

“Ahem,” he said behind his fist, edging forward. “In case you haven't noticed, I happen to
be
a guy.”

She smiled. “I have noticed.”

“Yeah? Well, I happened to have noticed that you're
not.
”

“Very observant.” She giggled.

Above them, the faint ding of the microwave sounded. Ethan rubbed his forehead, murmuring, “Dinner, such as it is, is served.” He grabbed her hand and towed her toward the stairs and then up them.

They worked quickly, side by side, to get the food on the table. Ethan had slices right out of the bag for bread, but Robin didn't mind. The meal sat before them on folded towels to protect the surface of the table, and Robin smiled to think that under any other circumstances she might have found the simple, mundane fare unappetizing, but here with Ethan, her hand in his as they bowed for prayer, she didn't want to be anywhere else in the world. No menu, however exotic or sumptuous, could have tempted her away from his side at that moment.

Once before, he'd planned a Sunday dinner for them, and she'd ruined it from fear of the truth. All through the meal, as he served her, playing host with genial ease, she imagined what it would be like to live here in this funny little house with Ethan. As he wielded his knife and fork, chatting and laughing, distracting her from the difficult chore ahead, she began to truly understand what she would really be giving up by leaving here, by leaving him. While eating, drinking, watching her in eloquent silence or holding her attention with teasing banter, he effectively tore out her heart, for none of this would ever be hers. Even if he should come to care for her in the same way that she had come to care for him, what she was about to do would almost assuredly be the end of any hope for them.

If Rusty was right, Jackson had stolen the time capsule, taken the gold, returned the historical papers and the container and let others be blamed for the crime. He had also done all in his power to thwart the repair and reopening of the Beaver Creek Bridge for decades now for no other reason than Shaw family honor; he'd promised his grandfather, who had promised his father, that the bridge would remain closed. Jackson was heir to the people who had killed the bells that hung in the belfry across the street because they'd been donated by an old friend turned enemy. The kind of stubbornness that had made Lucy fake her own death and stay away for nearly ninety long years did not leave a lot of room for forgiveness and acceptance. Jackson had wielded his power as mayor for decades, riding roughshod over anyone who bucked his policies. Why would he tolerate a woman who proclaimed the basic tenet of his family history to be a lie?

If they could keep it within the family, she might have a chance to coexist. Even if Jackson didn't believe her, he might leave her alone so long as no one else knew about her claims, but she couldn't trust Rusty to keep what he knew to himself indefinitely. Once her story became public, people would naturally take sides. Some would not believe her, but some would, and
that
Jackson could not abide. All her dealings with him in the past told her that. What she feared most was that Ethan would come out on her side, and Jackson would go after him in an attempt to discredit her.