A Small Town Christmas Part 30

"I didn't take it," she insisted, her voice defensive.

This was how things escalated to ugly. "Josh," Jamie pleaded.

He waved her to silence. "Liss, this is serious. You need to tell me."

"I didn't take Mrs. Goodwin's chicken," Lissa said, her own little voice angry. She tried to take the knickknack out of his hand and he closed his palm over it. "Give it to me!" Now she was off the couch, red-faced and teary.

"Liss, how did you get this chicken?" His voice was getting louder.

Did he realize how much bigger he was than this child, how completely scary he must look? Jamie's heart was thudding against her chest now. If he struck that child, if he dared to strike that child . . .

"It's mine. You can't take it!" Lissa cried. "I want to give it to Jamie. It's mine!"

Now Mandy was awake, struggling out of her sleeping bag. "Come on, baby," George said. "Let's get you into bed before the fireworks really start." He picked her up and carried her off down the hall.

Meanwhile, Lissa's tantrum was ramping up. "You can't take it," she cried, pulling at her father's hand.

Josh moved the coveted chicken out of reach. "Lissa."

She stamped her foot. "It's mine! It's mine!"

His big hand came down on the coffee table with a thud that sounded like thunder and made Jamie jump. The table shuddered under the impact. He leaned over his daughter, looking like some kind of ogre. "Lissa Rae, you are not telling me the truth!"

Suddenly Jamie wasn't seeing the frustrated father in front of her. She was seeing a husband in a rage, sweeping all the candles she'd just made from the kitchen table onto the floor. Then he turned and came toward her, his hand raised. "Don't! Stop it, stop it!"

Both Josh and Lissa turned to stare at her in shock.

She was on her feet, ready for either fight or flight. When had she jumped off her chair? The room was warm, but she was suddenly freezing. She rubbed her arms and said, "I need to go."

"No," Lissa cried. "Don't go." She scrambled over the coffee table and ran to Jamie, throwing her arms around her. "I didn't steal the chicken. I didn't. I traded for it fair and square."

"Traded," Josh repeated, mystified.

Lissa was sobbing now. Jamie knelt and the child threw her arms around Jamie's neck. "I don't want Damaris to go to jail."

"Damaris?" Josh's voice overflowed with shock and confusion. In one step he was to Jamie and Lissa.

If he laid a hand on this child . . .

He knelt and touched Lissa's shoulder and she whirled and threw herself into his arms. "Don't send her to jail, Daddy."

He picked his daughter up and settled on the couch with her on his lap. "No one is going to send Damaris to jail, but you need to tell me what you know."

"She'll get in trouble," Lissa wailed.

Josh stroked his daughter's hair. "Yes, she probably will. But you know what?"

Lissa shook her head, but kept crying.

"She'll also learn that it's wrong to steal. She did take the chicken, didn't she?" Lissa nodded and he wiped the tears from her cheeks. "And if she learns now that she can't take things that aren't hers then maybe she won't do it when she's bigger, when she could get in lots and lots of trouble and go to jail. Isn't it better to help your friend now so that won't happen?"

Lissa's sobs were dying down. "But she won't be my friend anymore."

"Maybe not," said Josh. "But you'll be a good friend to her if you help her be honest. Sometimes being a friend is about more than being liked. Do you understand?"

She sniffed. "I think so."

"Good. Now, tell me what happened."

And so the whole story came out. Lissa had seen Damaris snitch the chicken, but, not wanting to get her new friend in trouble, she'd kept quiet. "And when I was at her house, we were trading and she asked if I'd trade my hair beader, and I wanted to give Jamie something special. So I did," she finished, and started crying again.

Josh heaved a big sigh. "Baby girl, you knew it wasn't really her chicken to trade. That made what you did wrong. Do you understand?"

Lissa wrapped her arms around her father's neck, burying her face in his shoulder. "I know, Daddy."

It took a few more minutes to settle her down. Learning that she wasn't going to be punished finally did the trick. "I think you've already learned your lesson. Don't you?" he asked. She nodded and he kissed her. "You were a brave girl to tell me. I'm proud of you for doing that. Now, go get Grandpa to tuck you in bed."

Too embarra.s.sed to look at Jamie, Lissa nodded, slipped off his lap, and ran down the hall.

Josh and Jamie sat on opposite sides of the living room, neither speaking. The fire in the fireplace continued to crackle.

"I'm sorry about all that," he said at last.

She nodded. Just as Lissa had found it hard to look at her, now Jamie found it difficult to make eye contact with Josh. "What are you going to do about the other girl?"

"I'm going to talk to her parents, see if I can convince them to take her to Sarah, return this, and apologize."

Suddenly, there was nothing more to say, so Jamie nodded and stood. She was surprised her legs could hold her, shaky as they felt.

"I'm sorry you had to get pulled into this," he said.

"Me, too," she said. "I should go." And stay gone. There could be no future for the two of them. Maybe there could be no future with her and any man. The image of Josh pounding his fist on the coffee table replayed itself in her mind. Men were too unpredictable. Too big. Too dangerous.

He followed her to the door. "Jamie," he began as she opened it.

She didn't stop, didn't look at him. She just ran down the walk and got into her car. Then she drove off as fast as she could.

TWENTY-SIX.

Monday night found Jamie over at Sarah's for dinner. "It's not as free as you think," Sarah had said after Jamie made a crack about never turning down a free meal. "I've got a ton of Christmas presents to wrap and I'm hoping you'll help me."

It sounded like a great way to earn a meal to Jamie. Now she pushed away her plate. "I'm stuffed."

"One piece of my lasagna and you're stuffed?" Sarah made a face. "I've had birds that eat more than you."

"Do you know how many calories are in lasagna?" Jamie countered. "Anyway, I had two helpings of salad."

Sarah shook her head. "You hardly ate anything. I feel guilty putting you to work."

"Like playing with ribbon and paper and all those cool tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs you always get is work?" Jamie said, rolling her eyes. "Bring it on."

"You asked for it," said Sarah. "I hope you have enough strength for this. It's going to be a long evening. But don't worry. I'll make sure we quit in time for us both to get a good night's sleep."

"There is no such thing," Jamie said, following her into the living room.

"Still getting up before crack of dawn?" asked Sarah.

"Oh, yeah. You can't believe how many holiday orders I'm getting."

"I think I can. Your chocolates really are to die for."

"That's about what I'm doing these days. I'm not used to working as hard as you. It's killing me."

Sarah already had a collection of gift boxes in varying shapes piled on the couch and paper and ribbon on the floor and coffee table. "Let's see, I still need to get scissors and tape. I'll be right back." She picked a folded newspaper off the corner of the coffee table. "Did you ever see this?" she asked, handing it to Jamie.

"Oh, the article about Emma's shop?"

"No, something else," Sarah said, and vamoosed.

Jamie looked at it and frowned. There, in front of the food bank, stood Josh Armstrong and another cop, their arms full of boxes of bread. Mayor Quinn had positioned herself between them and was displaying a Jackie Kennedy smile. Boy, Sarah didn't miss a beat. Jamie set the paper aside. She wasn't even going to read this. What was the point?

The caption under the picture read: Heart Lake Police Force Does Its Part to Keep the Heart in Heart Lake. Very catchy. She wasn't going to read any more.

She picked it up. Today Heart Lake's finest went above and beyond the call of duty, helping residents cope with the complications that come from snow and icy streets. Police helped deliver food to the food bank and a.s.sisted senior citizens with transportation to doctor appointments. Although Josh Armstrong, the mastermind behind the idea, refuses to take credit . . .

"Isn't that cool?" said Sarah.

Jamie gave a start and dropped the newspaper. "Yeah. It's great to see that people have really gotten in the spirit of this."

"He's a good man, kiddo," Sarah said as she put the scissors and tape on the coffee table.

"With a temper." There, that should settle it. Jamie grabbed a box with a s.h.i.+rt in it. "Who's this for?"

"Okay, I get the message. But just remember, everyone has a temper, male and female. There's a world of difference between temper and abuse."

"I know that," Jamie snapped.

Sarah wagged a finger at her. "Hey, don't lose your temper."

Jamie pointed a finger right back at her. "You know, Santa does not bring chocolate to women who give their nieces a bad time." The doorbell rang. "Is somebody else coming over?"

Sarah shook her head, looking mystified.

"Maybe it's your buddy from across the street," Jamie teased.

"He's history, thank G.o.d," Sarah called over her shoulder.

A moment later Jamie could hear the rumble of a male voice and Sarah saying, "Come on in." And then she was back in the living room with Josh right behind her.

Okay, this was a setup. Except Josh looked as surprised to see Jamie as she was to see him.

"Sit down," said Sarah. "I'll make us some coffee."

"I'll help," Jamie offered, and started to get up.

"Stay where you are," Sarah told her. "It doesn't take two people to make coffee."

She sat back against the couch cus.h.i.+ons with a hiccup.

He shook his head at her. "No need to be nervous. I'm not going to hit you. That's not me. Oh, I did hit somebody once."

Ha! She knew it.

"I popped Lloyd Schmeckel in the nose in fifth grade when I found out he'd caught my sister on the playground and looked down her s.h.i.+rt. Does that count against me?"

If it weren't such a serious subject, she would have smiled.

"When I was a senior my dad caught me drinking with my buddies and grounded me. It was right before the big homecoming game. I was a wide receiver and I was good. Let me tell you, I was mad as h.e.l.l that I wasn't going to get to show my stuff at homecoming, so mad I punched a hole in my bedroom wall. I worked for my dad every Sat.u.r.day for the next six months to pay off that temper tantrum."

"So, you're telling me you don't have a temper?" Right. She'd seen for herself.

"No, I'm telling you I would never raise a hand to anyone, especially a woman."

"You are three times as big as your daughter. You scared her when you hit that table."

"You mean I scared you."

"She was upset."

"Of course she was. And yes, she was scared-scared she was going to lose her friend, scared I'd be mad at her and disappointed in her, scared she'd get in trouble. But she wasn't scared I would hurt her. Think about it. Did she run from me? Cringe? Would my dad have let me hurt her?"

Jamie chewed her lip, reliving the scene. Lissa had been upset and crying, but she hadn't been even remotely afraid to throw a tantrum or throw herself into her daddy's arms.

"I wish I could convince you to trust me, to take a chance," Josh said softly.

Deep down, desperately, she wanted to. She wanted a family of her own to wrap presents for at Christmas, to bake with, to hang out with. She wanted to sit in a church pew, not as somebody's friend, but as a proud mom. But, "I can't." The words barely came out.

"Are you sure? Look, I get that you're scared. I'm scared, too."

She stared at him, surprised.