Last Chance Christmas Page 12

  By now Nita was heading in their direction. “Is there a problem?” the librarian asked.

  “Yeah, there is. You want to tell the librarian what you just did?” Lark stared at the kid.

  “Drew?” Nita turned her deadly librarian look on him.

  “I was just getting water from the fountain.”

  “Uh-huh,” Nita said. “And while you were at it, you pulled Haley’s hair. I saw you.”

  “You did?” Drew and Lark said in unison.

  Nita glared at the kid. “I’m a librarian. I have eyes in the back of my head.”

  “I bet you didn’t hear the filthy name he called Haley,” Lark said.

  Haley turned in her seat and gazed up at Lark with a grateful expression on her precious little face. Warmth flooded through Lark.

  “What did he call her?” Nita asked.

  “I’m not going to repeat the word, but it was inappropriate and if I were his mother, I would go get a bar of soap.” Lark tried to give Drew a scary-lady look. Evidently her death-ray vision was not nearly as effective as Nita’s. Drew seemed unimpressed.

  He wasn’t even impressed a moment later when Stone Rhodes sauntered into the library all spit and polish in his uniform and looking like a warrior. Lark’s body flushed, and her stomach dropped three inches. Man, she was behaving just like a sixteen-year-old girl with a crush on an older man she could never have.

  Haley took that minute to leave her chair and rush right toward her father. She wrapped her arms around his legs in a hug so fierce it made Lark’s heart ache. He squatted down. “What’s up, sugar beet?” he asked.

  And that’s when Haley repeated the word that Drew Bennett said, in a voice that was very far removed from a real library voice. “Miss Lark told him that he needed to have his mouth washed out with soap. And the angel clapped when she said that. Daddy, I think the angel really, really likes Miss Lark.”

  The chief looked up at Lark. She expected to see anger in his gaze. Anger for the bully who’d used such a filthy word for such a sweet child. Anger that Haley had mentioned her imaginary friend. Anger that Lark had gotten involved at all.

  But there wasn’t a shred of anger in Stone Rhodes’s gaze. No, his gaze was hot. His green eyes sparked with a longing that made Lark’s middle burn with desire.

  Man. Her wayward and confused heart melted right in her chest.

  “You called Haley Rhodes that filthy word?” Nita hissed at Drew. She grabbed the boy by the arm and forcibly dragged him toward the chief.

  “Stone, would you please take custody of this young man and let his daddy know that I do not tolerate bullies in my library.”

  Stone straightened up and turned toward the kid, who had yet to show even the slightest bit of remorse. “C’mon, Drew,” he said. “You and me need to have a little talk.”

  “I don’t have to go with you. It’s a free country. And my daddy is sheriff, which means he outranks you.”

  Stone’s fist closed around the kid’s upper arm. “Not when you use language like that in my town’s library. C’mon, I’m getting Deputy Easley to watch you until your daddy comes to bail you out. And I wouldn’t put it past the deputy to actually wash out your mouth.”

  “You can’t do that. Besides, my daddy uses that word all the time.”

  By the flex in the muscles along Stone’s jaw, Lark got the distinct impression that the chief of police was holding his tongue as he half dragged the kid out of the library, across the entrance foyer, and into the offices of the Last Chance police department.

  Lark turned toward Haley. The little girl was staring after her father, and she looked so alone. Lark put her arm around her shoulder. “So, what were you reading?” she asked.

  “A joke book.”

  “A joke book? Really?”

  Haley nodded, but she seemed subdued.

  Lark snagged the little girl’s hand and drew her back toward the place where she’d been sitting. “C’mon, you can read it to me.”

  “Okay, but you’re not the person who needs to laugh. Maybe I can practice on you and then maybe you can come with me and Daddy on our date.”

  “Date?”

  Haley nodded and whispered in her library voice. “Yeah, see Lizzy is on a date tonight with David, so Daddy is taking me to the mall in Orangeburg for dinner and then we’re going to visit Santa.”

  “Oh, well, I’m sure your father doesn’t want me tagging along.”

  Haley looked up just as Stone reentered the room. “Hey, Daddy,” she said, forgetting all about her library voice again. “You don’t mind if Miss Lark comes on our date with us, do you?”

  And to Lark’s utter astonishment Stone Rhodes put his finger to his lips, gave his daughter a meaningful but utterly loving look, and then gazed at Lark.

  “Are you free?” he asked.

  CHAPTER

  11

  Haley clutched the book she’d checked out of the library and read out loud, “Why did the robber wash his clothes before he ran away with the stolen money?”

  “Easy,” Daddy said, “because he wanted to make a clean getaway.”

  Miss Lark laughed. But Daddy didn’t. Daddy was spoiling everything again, because he knew all the jokes in that dumb old book. Daddy had no sense of humor.

  “Where did you learn all these jokes?” Miss Lark asked Daddy. They were sitting at a table at the fried chicken place near the mall, and Miss Lark hadn’t eaten any chicken at all. She’d ordered a salad.

  “I think Lizzy had that book when she was little.”

  “That’s no fair,” Haley grumped.

  “Okay, try me again,” Daddy said.

  Haley flipped through the pages and picked out a joke. “Okay, here’s one. What does a snowman eat for breakfast?”

  Daddy frowned. He leaned his head on his hand and tapped his cheek with his fingers. He looked at Miss Lark. He kind of smiled. Miss Lark definitely returned his smile. “You got any ideas?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Nope.”

  “Okay,” Daddy said, “I don’t know that one.”

  Haley struggled not to smile. “Frosted Flakes,” she said.

  Miss Lark laughed, again. This time Daddy kind of smiled, maybe, just a little bit.

  The Sorrowful Angel cried.

  Haley closed the book, defeated. “Okay, can we go see Santa now?” she asked.

  “What, no more jokes?” Daddy asked.

  She shook her head. What was the point? Daddy hadn’t laughed, not even once.

  And the Sorrowful Angel was crying harder than ever. It was time to ask for some real help. Santa would probably know what to do.

  But half an hour later, after she’d told Santa what she wanted for Christmas, Haley knew she was going to have to figure it out on her own. It turned out that Maryanne Hanks was right. She’d told Haley yesterday that Santa was just a story that grown-ups made up. Haley hadn’t believed Maryanne yesterday. But now she knew the truth. Santa had been wearing a fake beard.

  You’d have to be blind or stupid not to realize it.

  And even if Santa’s beard had been real, the Santa she’d just consulted was just like every other grown-up. Once Haley tried to explain about the angel, Santa had gotten that look in his eyes. It seemed to Haley that if anyone believed in angels, it would be Santa.

  She held on to Daddy’s hand as they walked out into the parking lot. She wanted to cry as hard as the angel.

  “Santa isn’t real, is he?” she said.

  Daddy stopped and so did Miss Lark. Miss Lark bended down and took Haley by the shoulders. “Santa is just as real as your angel,” she said.

  Haley looked into Miss Lark’s big, brown eyes. She was telling the truth. And now that Haley thought about it, Miss Lark was one of only a few grown-ups who didn’t get that funny look on her face when the subject of the angel came up.

  “You’re sure? Because Maryanne said that Santa was just a made-up story.”

  “I’m sure. You have to have faith in
him, Haley. There are lots of things in this world that people can’t always see. And Santa Claus is one of them,” Miss Lark said. “But Santa is one of the best things in this world—like angels. And don’t you ever forget it.”

  Stone walked Lark to the door of Hettie Marshall’s river house. The porch light was on, and the yellow glow put a spark in her dark eyes. She was so tiny and so fierce. He’d thoroughly enjoyed her company, even if she and Haley had spent an inordinate amount of time talking to and about the angel.

  “I don’t know whether to be thankful or furious about the way you compared Haley’s angel to Santa,” Stone said.

  “I thought I handled that brilliantly.”

  He did, too. But he didn’t want to admit it. “You didn’t tell her the truth,” he said. His protest sounded lame.

  “The truth is depressing.” Lark cocked her head and looked up at him like a lost puppy dog.

  “But she’s going to figure it out pretty soon,” Stone said. “She’s eight. It’s the age when kids start figuring things out. What do I do then?”

  She laughed. It was a bright sound. “Coward. It’s easy. You pay attention to her and let her know that Santa is still real.”

  “But—”

  “Look, Stone, I had a father who relished every opportunity to explain the truth to me. Every miracle, every scrap of magic. He explained it all. I hated being seven. I made up Carmine Falcone when I was seven.”

  “He isn’t real either. He’s just a character in your father’s books.”

  A little crooked smile touched her lips. “Let your daughter believe in what she wants to. Didn’t you believe in Santa once? Although I’m having a hard time seeing it. Right now you look kind of like the Grinch with a shiny badge.”

  A sudden, unexpected laugh burbled up from his chest. It was a short thing, but it almost felt as if something inside had broken away.

  “Ah ha,” she said, her dark eyes filled with a devilish gleam, “the big strong warrior knows how to laugh. Too bad you didn’t laugh at Haley’s jokes. Next time, you should fake it, even if you’ve heard the joke before. She was trying to cheer you up.”

  “You’ve called me that twice. Why?”

  “What? Warrior?”

  He nodded. “I’m a cop, not a warrior.”

  She shrugged. “The two are not mutually exclusive. You’re a warrior even if your war is over.”

  “But yours isn’t, is it?”

  She looked away and the spark left her eyes. What was going on with her? Something. He wanted to press the point and get to the bottom of it. But he didn’t know how.

  An utterly unwanted urge to protect her swelled up in him. She was so tiny, a whisper of wind might blow her away. But he’d seen her photographs. She was the warrior, not him.

  Maybe that was why he wanted to stay and talk with her. He’d never known a woman who had been to war before. But Haley was waiting in the truck, and he had to pick up Lizzy at David’s house. And besides, he had a feeling she didn’t really want to swap war stories. He had a feeling her stories were pretty grim.

  So he did the only thing he could think of on short notice. He leaned forward and gave Lark a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. For saving Haley’s faith in Santa. And because I had a nice time on our date,” he whispered, and then turned on his heel and hightailed it back to his truck.

  Haley had witnessed the entire encounter. She would tell Momma about that little kiss. And everyone in town would know about it tomorrow.

  But he wasn’t sorry.

  “Barukh atta adonay eloheynu melekh ha-olam she-asa nissim la-avoteynu ba-yyamim ha-hem ba-zzman ha-zze.”

  Lizzy had no idea what the Hebrew words meant, but they had an interesting lilt to them as David and his family spoke them aloud.

  David, wearing a small white skullcap, lit the candle that sat in the tallest place on a nine-armed candelabra. Only four candles had been placed in the candleholders. The candles were all different colors and looked totally festive.

  David’s father leaned over and said quietly, “The English translation is: Blessed art thou, Lord our God, King of the universe, who wrought miracles for our fathers in the days of old at this season.”

  David finished lighting the first candle. He blew out his match, then picked up the lit candle and handed it off to his younger brother Jonathan. Robbie, another brother who was only five, looked on with a solemn face.

  “Why are there eight places on the menorah, Robbie?” Mrs. Raab asked the little boy as his older brother lit the remaining three candles from right to left.

  “Because the oil lasted eight days instead of one. Because a great miracle happened here,” Robbie said with the same kind of fervor that Haley sometimes used when she was repeating a lesson from Sunday School.

  Mr. Raab stepped in and explained. “Hanukkah is a celebration of a miracle that happened right after Judah the Maccabee reclaimed a temple from the Syrian king. The temple was cleaned and rededicated, but there wasn’t enough oil for the light in the tabernacle to burn for more than a day. By some miracle, though, the oil lasted for eight days, until more purified oil could be found.”

  “Yeah, but the best story is the one about Judith,” David said. He looked up, a gleam in his eye. “She’s the one who—”

  “I know the story of Judith,” Lizzy said. “We studied it in Bible camp this summer. She’s the one who got the evil general totally drunk and then beheaded him, right?”

  “Bravo,” Mr. Raab said. “Not many people around here read their Old Testament.”

  “Oh, but the best stories are in the Old Testament. My grandfather says that—” Lizzy stopped midsentence before she repeated Granddaddy’s colorful thoughts on the Old Testament.

  “What does your grandfather say?” Mr. Raab asked.

  Lizzy gave a totally lame shrug and said, “Oh, he always says that he likes the Old Testament better. And I suppose he has a point. I mean, out at Granddaddy’s golf course, the Old Testament holes are way more fun than the New Testament ones. Y’all are in for a treat when they get the old place fixed up. The plague of frogs is the best one.”

  Mrs. Raab didn’t look amused by what Lizzy had just said. “Is there truly a hole at that golf course that depicts the plague of frogs?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How?”

  Heat crawled up Lizzy’s face. Why had she even brought Granddaddy up? “Uh, well, see, there are these frogs on either side of the fairway and they spit water.”

  “C’mon, Mom, it sounds fun,” David said.

  “Making fun of the Passover story isn’t right,” she said, then turned and stalked into the kitchen.

  David moved away from the window where the menorah had been placed. “We let the candles burn until they go out.” He stepped a little closer, invading Lizzy’s space. Her stomach fluttered.

  He whispered, “What does your grandfather really say about the Old Testament?”

  She looked up into David’s dark, clever eyes. “Uh, well, he says it beats television for excitement.”

  David smirked. “That’s not the complete truth, is it?”

  She shook her head. “No. He says that if you’re looking for sex and violence, you’ll find it in the Old Testament.” Heat crawled up her body from her toes to her forehead.

  Amusement lit up David’s eyes. “Awesome. He’s got a point. Have you read the Song of Solomon?”

  Lizzy felt like she might go right up in a column of flame. “Yeah, in Bible class this summer.”

  They might have stood there looking into each other’s eyes if it weren’t for Robbie. He tugged on the edge of Lizzy’s sweater. “Hey, you wanna learn how to play dreidel?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Lizzy said. Robbie was a mini copy of David, with the same dark curly hair and dark eyes.

  “Cool.” Robbie turned and ran toward the family room.

  David muttered as he and Lizzy followed, “You may regret learning this game. How many pennies are you pr
epared to lose? Because Robbie may look young and innocent, but inside him, there lives a gambler with awesome luck.”

  “Gambler?”

  “Yeah, dreidel is all about gambling.”

  Lizzy sat on the floor in the family room with David and his brothers. The boys quickly explained the object of the game, played with a four-sided top, each side printed with a Hebrew letter that provided instructions on what to do with the pennies in the pot. One letter meant do nothing, another meant take half, a third meant take all, and the fourth meant put a penny in the pot. Every player antied up a penny, and the gambling started.

  Robbie might have been only five, but he totally rocked at this game.

  Dinner was served about the time Lizzy had lost all her pennies and pocket change to little Robbie.

  She sat with the Raabs at their dinner table, surprised that they didn’t say grace. They had prayed earlier, but not now. The food consisted of potato and onion pancakes served with sour cream and applesauce. It wasn’t exactly what Lizzy would have expected for a dinner. Latkes were kind of like breakfast hash browns. But she could understand why David and his brothers loved latkes. They were totally delicious.

  She also appreciated why David and his brothers loved their holiday, even though the Raabs didn’t give elaborate or expensive gifts.

  They didn’t seem to miss the gifts. And it struck her that even though David was missing out on Christmas, he had things that Lizzy didn’t have.

  Like a mother.

  Of course Lizzy wanted Mrs. Raab to approve of her, but she also totally understood why David’s mother was uncomfortable. Probably, if Momma was still alive, she would be uncomfortable with David. Lizzy didn’t remember Momma very well, but all the folks in Last Chance sure did. They were always saying that Momma had been a real dedicated churchwoman who volunteered for every cause and who had lived her life like a true Christian.

  These accolades about her mother were almost always accompanied by negative comments about how Daddy never set foot inside a church.

  Yeah. Momma would probably have disapproved of David, just like Mrs. Raab disapproved of Lizzy. Not that Mrs. Raab was mean. She went out of her way to be polite, but it was the kind of politeness that sets a person apart.