Sweet Christmas Story
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“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Sullivan,” the young man said as he stepped into the kitchen carrying a large basket of fresh fruit and vegetables. “I brought these for you.” He set the basket down on the countertop and then took off his hat to reveal long sandy blond hair pulled back in a ponytail.
She was still trying to figure out how she knew him when she heard a loud thud followed by a curse. She looked up at the sound and saw the same young man lying flat on his back against the wall. His hand was stuck between the floor and ceiling where he’d slipped while reaching for something behind her.
The boy groaned and held his head in his hands, but didn’t make any move to free himself from the awkward position. She walked over and helped pull his arm free before pulling him upright and moving away quickly. The young man stumbled forward with an exaggerated wince but managed to keep his balance despite the pain that must have been shooting through his skull.
He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, which only added to the dirt already caked there. He gave her a sheepish grin and turned toward the door.
“You shouldn’t be here alone this time of night,” she said as he reached the front room. It wasn’t quite midnight yet, but it would soon be close enough.
“It’s my fault I’m here,” he muttered under his breath. But it was clear what had happened. When she asked him about it later, he explained that he hadn’t expected to find anyone home and was surprised by her presence.
At first, he thought she might be someone else, so he tried to get rid of her without making too much noise or being obvious. Then he noticed the gun sitting next to her chair. He couldn’t help thinking about all those stories he’d read about men getting killed because they made the mistake of taking a woman hostage. He figured if he could scare her away, no harm done.
But he forgot one thing: women weren’t afraid of guns anymore. Not since he’d started working for her husband. They were also used to seeing them in their own homes. So she’d seen right through him, which probably saved her life. Now she knew better than to leave a loaded weapon unattended. That was one lesson he wouldn’t forget.
When he left after saying goodbye, she went downstairs to see who else had come calling tonight. A couple more baskets lay beside the door along with a few boxes of food. Another deliveryman stood just inside the doorway talking to John.
Both men wore wide smiles and seemed happy to see each other. After handing him another box of produce, John waved and headed upstairs to bring the goods to his wife.
Mrs. Sullivan watched the exchange from the bottom step until both men disappeared upstairs. She wondered why Mr. Sullivan had hired two extra deliverymen to work during the holiday season. As far as she could tell, it was nothing special.
Maybe it was a family tradition to give gifts to their employees. Or perhaps it was part of some business deal that required additional manpower. Either way, it was nice of them to show such generosity.
While bringing in the last box, John called out from above. “There’s some ham in the pantry, Mrs. Sullivan. You’re welcome to share it.”
“Thank you, John,” she replied as she put everything away. Then she prepared herself a late supper, fixed a cup of hot chocolate and sat down to eat.
John came in while she was sipping her cocoa. He stopped to kiss her cheek and whispered, “How are you feeling?”
“Fine, now that you’ve brought me something warm to drink.” She smiled and gestured to the tray. “Can I offer you anything?”
“No thanks, I ate earlier. What did you think of our guests? Are they always like this?”
“They’re not always like this, but they’re usually good enough to do business with.” She paused for a moment and glanced around the empty room. “It seems odd having everyone gone this time of year. Where will we spend Christmas?”
“We’ll celebrate with your brother and his family.”
She nodded and picked up the mug again to sip the cocoa.
After a short silence, he added, “Are you sure you should be alone tonight? It isn’t safe to walk the streets alone.”
“I know. I don’t want to cause trouble for you, especially after all the trouble you’ve already taken on my behalf.”
“Don’t worry. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
That was easy for him to say. He hadn’t felt the fear she did every day.
As if reading her mind, he added, “If you feel threatened, call us immediately.”
With a nod, she took another swallow of cocoa. The warmth spread throughout her body. “So what happened today when you arrived?”
He sighed and looked at his watch. “A horse got spooked and bolted into town. There’s still plenty of daylight left. Let me take you back to your house.”
Her answer was immediate. “No! Don’t bother. I can manage myself.”
His concern was obvious. “Let me stay with you anyway. If there’s even the slightest chance you might need protection, then you should have it.”
The idea of letting him guard her didn’t appeal to her. She didn’t need a man to protect her—not from people who worked for her husband. But she was reluctant to turn him away either. With an effort, she managed a smile. “All right. Stay here with me. But only for a little while.”
He grinned. “That’s fine by me. Just promise me you won’t wander off on your own again.”
Before he left to return to his office, she gave him a quick tour of the rest of the house. By the time he left, the sun was beginning its descent behind the horizon. She was relieved that John hadn’t asked where she slept. Even though he wasn’t much taller than she was, his presence made her nervous. In fact, she preferred sleeping in her attic bedroom over sharing a bed with him.
Not long after the door closed, she heard the front door open. She hurried down the stairs to find him standing in the entry hall with the light streaming in from outside. “Did you get lost coming home?” she joked. “You missed your driveway.”
“Just checking the street before leaving for work tomorrow. This is one big place for someone like me to drive through.” He pointed to the gravel path leading to the garage. “Why don’t you park there instead? It would make things easier.”
“Okay,” she said slowly as she walked past him toward the carport. “But please don’t go too close to the fence. You’d never fit between those posts.”
“Got it. I wouldn’t want to break the gate or dent the fender.” He followed her to the rear of the house. “Where would you prefer to sleep tonight? Upstairs or downstairs?”
“Upstairs. Please.”
He led the way up the creaking wooden steps. Once inside the large hallway, she noticed that the lights were dimmer than usual. When she opened the first door, a wave of stale air greeted her. “What happened to the lamp?”
“Someone broke the bulb. They also smashed a window.” As he stepped closer, the shadows seemed to deepen around them. “Were you expecting anyone else besides me?”
“No. Why would you ask such a question?”
“Nothing. Never mind. How about upstairs? Or maybe in the basement?”
She shook her head. “Neither. Can we try the kitchen?”
“Of course.” He guided her to the second door and pushed it open. “It’s not locked so you should be able to use it whenever you wish.”
She tried the light switch next to the sink and found that it worked just fine. “This is very nice of you.”
“I’m glad you approve.” He crossed to the refrigerator. “How are you feeling now?”
“Much better. Thank you.”
For some reason, she couldn’t help glancing at the door to the cellar. Did he suspect something was wrong with her? She had no desire to talk about what she felt each night. Her fingers twitched slightly as she reached for a bottle of water and turned it upside down to fill the glass. Then she drank thirstily until it was gone.
When they returned to the hallway, she told him about the broken lamp and shattered window. “And that’s why I prefer sleeping in this room. That’s all.”
“I understand. What do you plan to wear tonight?”
She shrugged. “Whatever’s clean.”
“Then you’ll probably need a bath.”
She nodded. “Yes. And I think I could use another one too.”
He smiled. “We’ll see.”
As he pulled the door shut, she saw that the hall was dark except for the faint glow coming from the stairwell. The only other illumination came from the chandelier hanging above the dining table.
They moved down the corridor to the living room. A glance revealed that the lamps in both rooms were working perfectly. The ceiling fan whirred steadily overhead. After opening the doors to the bedrooms, she showed him the one she used most often. “Would you like to change clothes?”
“Maybe later.” He glanced back at the kitchen. “Let’s have dinner first. Your choice.”
She laughed lightly. “A woman like you must know how to cook. Won’t you show me?”
After she poured the coffee, she set out the plates. “Please take a seat.”
Instead of taking a chair, he took the stool next to hers. For several minutes, he sat quietly drinking his black coffee. His eyes appeared to be focused somewhere beyond the rim of his cup. At last, he spoke.
“Do you remember when you met my family?”
The question startled her. “Yes. I guess I do.”
“Good.”
“Your sister mentioned that she thought I might be interested in becoming part of your family someday.”
“That’s right.”
“I’m honored.” She held out her hand across the table. “I’m Bethany Adams.”
His fingers wrapped around hers briefly. “John Fowler.” He squeezed gently but did not let go.
Her pulse quickened. “You’re married, aren’t you?”
He released her hand and picked up a piece of bread. “Not anymore. My wife passed away recently.”
“Oh!”
He didn’t say anything more. Instead, he began to eat his meal while staring at the tablecloth. The silence grew awkward after a few moments. She stared into her mug as she stirred cream into her coffee.
At last, John cleared his throat. “So tell me again what you do here.”
She paused and looked up at him. “Well, I work at a detective agency in Chicago. We specialize in solving cases that others can’t crack.”
“Like mine?”
“Sure. But there are many ways to solve a case. Some are easier than others.”
“Did you ever find the man who killed your husband?”
“Actually, I haven’t yet.”
“Why don’t you? You’ve been looking for almost twenty years.”
“My job requires me to focus on certain cases. Otherwise, I’d never get anywhere.”
“But isn’t it frustrating?”
“Sometimes. But I keep telling myself that one day someone will come forward with information or evidence that helps us make an arrest.”
“If that happened, wouldn’t you want to live closer to where you’d be working?”
“Certainly. This town doesn’t offer much in the way of entertainment.”
“What if I offered to pay you to stay here—in this house?”
“What makes you think I would accept?”
“Because I believe we belong together.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Are you sure you don’t recall meeting me before?”
Before she could respond, the front door opened and closed. Both men jumped to their feet and rushed through the doorway. When they entered the dining room, a large man blocked them in with his bulk.
“Who are you people and what business do you have in this house?”
Bethany recognized the man as Dan McCoy, the local sheriff. John stepped toward him. “Sheriff, please move aside so we may sit down to supper.”
McCoy glared at him. “Don’t give me orders. Just because you rode in here today does not mean you own this place.”
“It does if you ask the lady over there.”
For some reason, his words brought a smile to McCoy’s face.
***
Dan McCoy had spent three days waiting for John Fowler to appear. Finally, the stranger arrived at noon. As soon as he entered the house, McCoy noticed that something was wrong. There seemed to be something different about him.
He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what bothered him until he heard the name, Fowler. Then everything made sense. It wasn’t hard to figure out why John had come here.
In fact, McCoy knew he should have expected it. After all, he had been watching the ranch for months now. From the beginning, he suspected that the newcomer might become involved with the women who worked there. Of course, he hadn’t imagined it would happen so quickly. Nor did he expect the woman to turn out to be the daughter of a famous detective.
As the two men stood facing each other, McCoy wondered how he should handle this situation. He knew better than to try arresting John without proof. And since no one else knew about Bethany’s father’s death, the only person he could confide in was the district attorney in Chicago. But the sheriff still needed time to gather enough evidence to send John to prison.
Finally, McCoy decided to wait and watch. For the next couple of weeks, he kept his distance from the house and watched the occupants’ every move. He also kept tabs on the hired hands by making periodic visits to the saloon and talking to the locals. They told him nothing except that John was a good boss. That said a lot considering most men didn’t like to work under another man.
When he learned that the ranch owner had been murdered, McCoy became concerned. Why would anyone kill John Fowler? Was he guilty of murdering his employer? If so, then McCoy felt obligated to protect him. So far, however, John Fowler hadn’t done anything illegal. In fact, he seemed to be doing well for himself.
The sheriff turned back to the table. “I’ll take my dinner somewhere else,” he muttered. He grabbed his hat and headed toward the front porch.
John glanced at Bethany. She appeared lost in thought. “May I join you for supper?” he asked.
“Please.”
He sat across from her and waited while she served herself.
“Do you always eat alone?” he asked after the waitress left.
“No, sometimes I have company. Sometimes, we even share our meals.”
“That’s nice.”
Her eyes met his. “Would you care for dessert?”
“Not right now.”
“Then, perhaps, I could walk with you afterward?”
“To where?”
“Anywhere. Would you mind?”
“I guess not.”
They finished eating and walked outside into the cool evening air. The sky above glowed red, casting long shadows along the dirt road. Neither spoke during the short journey to the outskirts of town. At last, when they reached a spot where the trees gave way to open grassland, he stopped. “Why don’t we sit on this bench and enjoy the sunset?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Once again, he held her hand and pulled her close. Their bodies touched intimately, leaving no doubt in either of their minds as to the feelings between them.
She leaned against his shoulder and whispered, “This feels very familiar.”
His fingers moved to stroke the side of her neck. “How is it?”
“Very pleasant.”
Their lips came closer until finally, they kissed. His kiss deepened, and Bethany responded. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pressed her body firmly against him.
Neither one wanted the night to end. Eventually, though, they reluctantly separated.
“Come inside,” he murmured.
At first, she hesitated but finally agreed to follow him. Once inside, he closed the door behind them.
“What are your plans for tonight?” she asked.
“There’s an old barn near here that we can use as a shelter. We’ll sleep there.”
“But won’t we get caught out in the middle of nowhere?”
“We will if someone catches us. Or maybe we should just stay up here instead.”
“Upstairs?”
“Yes, upstairs.”
A quick glance at her revealed that she understood what he meant. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“It’s fine.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she followed him up the stairs. A few minutes later, he led her down the hall to the bedroom. He opened the door, stepped inside, and shut the door behind him before turning around.
The End