"Nobody would accuse you of being puny, Ida June." Kade moved to Sophie's side and reached for the coffee mug.

She scooted but didn't turn loose of the cup. She did, however, flash him that sunny smile, only this one carried a hint of his aunt's sass. "I can do it."

"Yeah?" he arched a brow.

She arched one, too. "Yeah."

Was the cookie lady flirting with him?

They jockeyed for position for a few seconds while Kade examined the interesting simmer of energy buzzing around the pair of them like honeybees in a glass jar, both dangerous and sweet. Danger he understood, but sweet Sophie didn't know what she was bumping up against.

Ten minutes later, he walked her out the front door, leaving Ida June to heat a spicy casserole that would torture him again tonight.

He opened the car door for Sophie, stood with one hand on the handle as she slid gracefully onto the seat. At some point in the day she'd changed her clothes from a long blue sweater to a dark skirt and white blouse. She looked the part of a teacher. Weird that he'd notice. "Don't worry about the kid."

Keys rattled as she dug in the pocket of a black jacket. "I won't. But I will pray for him."

His teeth tightened. "You pray. I'll find answers."

A cloud passing overhead shadowed her usual cheer. "We can do both."

"Right." God listened to people like Sophie. Kade still believed that much.

She started the engine and yet he remained in the open car door, wanting to say something reassuring and not knowing how. Life, he knew, did not always turn out the way it should.

"Kade?" she said.

"Yeah?"

She reached out and placed her hand on his sleeve. Her warmth, or maybe the thought of it, seeped through the thick cotton.

"Everything will be all right." Her gray eyes smiled, serious but teasing, too. "I promise."

The tables had turned. She was the one doing the reassuring. For two beats he even believed her.

Then he said, "Don't make promises," and shut the door.

"Dad, have you ever met Kade McKendrick?"

Sophie stood on a stepladder propped against her father's brick house, feeding tiny blue lightbulbs into equally tiny sockets. Next to her, on another stepladder, her dad attached strands of Christmas lights to the gabled eaves.

"Ida June's nephew? Yes, I've run into him a time or two. Why?"

"What was your impression?"

"Polite. Watchful. A man with something on his mind."

"Hmm." Yes, she saw those things. He was wounded, too, and maybe a little sour on the world. Beneath that unhealthy dose of cynicism, she also saw a man who didn't back down, who did what he promised. Although he had this thing about not making any promises at all. "Hmm."

Her father paused, one hand braced against brick to turn his head toward her. "What does that hmm of yours mean?"

"I don't know, Dad. Nothing really." She didn't know how to put into words the curious interest Kade had stirred up. "He says he'll find Davey's family."

"Maybe he will," her dad said. "I heard he was an agent for the DEA."

"He mentioned special units, whatever those are."

"Could be DEA or any of the other highly trained groups. Seems strange, don't you think, for him to be here in Redemption doing odd jobs with a great-aunt?"

She took another bulb from her jacket pocket and snapped it into the tiny slot. "Maybe he's simply a nice guy helping out an older relative."

"Ida June? Older?" Dad snorted and turned back to his task. "I won't tell her you said that."

Sophie laughed. "Thanks."

"So what are you ruminating about?"

"When I mentioned praying for Davey, Kade threw up a wall of resistance. He did the same thing when I mentioned Christmas."

"Lots of non-Christians get uncomfortable with God talk, but Christmas is a different matter. Maybe something bad happened during the holidays?" He paused to take another strand of lights from her outstretched hand. "Or maybe the guy's a jerk."

"I don't think so, Dad. He was kind to Davey. Almost tender. You should have seen the pair of them digging through that bag of clothes."

"You like him, don't you?"

Her heart jumped, a reaction she didn't quite get. She liked everyone. "Beyond his kindness to Davey, I barely know him."

"I knew your mother was the one the minute I laid eyes on her."

Like a fly on her hamburger, the remark soured Sophie's stomach. How could Dad speak casually and without bitterness when Sophie still felt the disappointment as keenly as she had five years ago?

She pushed one final bulb into a socket and backed down the ladder. "Are we putting the sleigh on the roof this year?"

If Dad noticed the change in subjects, he didn't let on. With a sparkle in his eyes and the nip of wind reddening his cheeks, he asked, "Do elves make toys? Does Santa have a list of naughty and nice?"

Mark Bartholomew was almost as Christmas-crazy as his daughter, and every year they worked for days decorating first his house and then her little cottage. No matter how cold and fierce the wind or how many other activities they had going, this had become their tradition since the divorce. She'd started the practice so that the first holiday without Mom would be easier for him, but now she treasured this special time with her father.

"Did you see the new displays at Case's Hardware Store?"

"Saw them. Bought the praying Santa and the lighted angel." He clattered down the ladder.

Shivering once, Sophie slapped her upper arms for warmth. "The one with the flapping wings?"

"He's in the garage."

"Sweet." They exchanged high fives, the usual slap muffled by Sophie's gloves.

"I think we've done all the damage to the electric bill we can manage for one day," he said and started toward the porch.

Sophie followed her dad past the inflated snowman, through a door decked with green lighted garland and wreath, and into the living room where the old artificial tree their family had used for years now stood proudly in one corner. She knew he put the tree up for her sake, to keep the family tradition alive even with Mother gone. Life wasn't the same, but it was still Christmas.

With a sigh, she settled into Dad's big leather recliner while he fiddled with the switch on the musical bells and set them chiming. Lights blinked frantically to the tune of "Carol of the Bells." Cleo, the resident cat princess, mewed in plaintive protest and wound herself around Sophie's feet.

"Get up here, girl." Sophie patted her leg. The aging family pet blinked long blue eyes. Then to make sure Sophie remembered that she was the boss, Cleo ignored the offered lap and leaped easily to the back of the chair and stretched out.

"As independent as ever." Dad made one last adjustment to the lighted tree and stood. Colored lights flickered over his worn University of Oklahoma sweatshirt and reflected a rosy glow on his skin.

"Queen of her domain." Sophie reached over one shoulder to rub the arrogant cat. "The two of you are quite a pair."

"True. She's my buddy."

Cleo batted Sophie's fingers with soft claws and purred. The Siamese had been Mom's cat, but she'd left her pet behind along with her family. Sophie thought, not for the first time, how lonely Dad must be in this once-noisy, active house with only Cleo for company.

"Have you talked to Todd lately?" Her brother and his family were in the military, stationed in Ft. Hood. Holidays presented a challenge for them, especially with his wife's family in Florida.

"A couple of days ago. They're going to her folks' this year."

"Imagine that," she teased. "Choosing the Sunshine State over cold and blustery Oklahoma."

"I like cold and blustery."

"Me, too. It feels like Christmas."

She had her father, her church, her students and most of all, her Lord. Christmas in Redemption, blustery wind and all, would be blessed and beautiful. If she sometimes wished for a family of her own, especially at Christmas, it was only natural. Thirty, that suspicious benchmark of spinsterhood, was only a few years away. Not that age bothered her all that much. It wasn't age that made her restless sometimes. But the occasional ache for a home filled with love and laughter and a husband and children was undeniably present. Christmas, especially, was family time.

Her thoughts roamed to Davey and then to Kade. What kind of Christmas would they have? Kade said he didn't "do the Christmas thing." What did he mean? Was Dad right? Had some painful event turned him off to the greatest event in history?

Cellophane crinkled as Dad handed her a red-and-white candy cane. The memory of Davey's book flashed in her head. Hadn't there been a candy cane on the front? Cybil Cunningham was a good woman with a heart for disabled children. Sophie hoped she'd read Davey's book to him. Maybe she'd drive out to see him tomorrow if Kade or the police didn't find where he belonged. She prayed they would.

She gave the peppermint a lick, her first taste of the new Christmas season. "Do I get your special secret-recipe Bartholomew hot cocoa to go with this?"

"I'm on my way to the kitchen." Sophie started to rise, but her Dad waved her back down. "Sit. You're still not old enough to be trusted with the family secret."

With a happy hum, he disappeared around the wall. Sophie heard the clatter of drawers opening and a pot rattle against the stove top. For these few moments, she let herself be Daddy's little girl again, knowing how much pleasure he took in feeling needed.

She kicked off her shoes and curled her chilled feet beneath her, listening to the tinny melody of "Joy to the World" from the Christmas tree. Her world was full of joy. She wished she could package the feeling and share it with those who found no pleasure in the season.

Kade encroached again, his handsome face serious, the brown eyes dark with some secret angst. Had something happened to steal his joy? Or was he just a guy with a negative attitude?

The cool, sweet peppermint melted on her tongue. From the kitchen arose the warm scent of milk and chocolate. The tree sparkled, a candle dripped cinnamon-scented wax, Cleo purred, warm and content against Sophie's neck.

Maybe Kade had never had this. Maybe he didn't know what he was missing.

Sophie took a deep pull on the sweet candy.

Maybe Kade was a Grinch by accident and needed help to find his Christmas spirit.

She offered up a quick prayer, certain the Lord had something special in mind for Scrooge McKendrick this year.

Why else would a big-city cop show up in a small, Christmas-crazy town just in time for the holidays?

Chapter Five.

The telephone rang at six. Kade grabbed the receiver on the first ring.

"McKendrick," Kade snapped before remembering. This was his aunt's home, not his work phone. He scrubbed a hand over his hair.

"I apologize for waking you," the male voice said.

Waking him? Wouldn't that be nice? He'd let Sheba out hours ago. Since then, he'd been lying on the ugly psychedelic sofa twiddling his thumbs.

"I'm up. Who's this?"

"Jesse Rainmaker at the police station."

The man worked long hours. "You have information on Davey?"

A hesitation. "We have a problem."

Kade's fingers tightened on the handset. "With Davey? What kind of problem? Is he all right?"

"I was hoping you'd know. He ran away from the Cunninghams sometime in the night. Mrs. Cunningham got up around three to look in on him and he was gone."

Kade fell back against the couch cushions and squinted at the shadowy ceiling. "You think he's a runner? He's done this before?"

The furnace kicked on, shuddering in its old age. Faint heat eked from the floor vent to his cool sock feet. It was cold outside. Had Davey worn his new, hand-me-down jacket? The one with the blue race car on the back?

"Maybe. But a boy like that, without a voice, he's in danger wandering around alone." Rainmaker sighed, weariness heavy across the line. "The social worker told me how he reacted at your place. I thought you'd want to know."

Oh, yeah, Davey was in danger, all right. He couldn't ask for help. He couldn't even yell. And Kade definitely wanted to know. Sometime in the long hours of sleeplessness, the defenseless, towheaded boy with the worried face had become personal.

"Did you notify Sophie?" The woman had plagued him all night, too, with her Suzy Snowflake personality and soft gray eyes. Davey had latched on to her, and she'd be upset about this turn of events. He wished he could spare her the worry. Nothing she could do about it, but she'd want to know.

"I'll leave that to you," Rainmaker said. "My deputies are searching around the Cunningham home. We could use some help, someone Davey likes."

"Give me directions." Kade scrambled for a pen and paper, not trusting his memory in strange territory-another hard lesson learned.

Jesse rattled off a series of section lines and local landmarks, then rang off with a "Thanks." Kade needed no thanks. He needed to find that boy.

Already dressed except for boots and coat, he shrugged into those, debating the phone call to Sophie. He wouldn't mind hearing her voice but not this way, not as the bearer of bad news.