Where Love Abides. Irene Hannon
he likely to find out, he acknowledged, given the stubborn tilt of her chin.
“If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to call.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Her dismissive inflection suggested she’d do the exact opposite. That she wouldn’t spare it another thought once he walked away. But he’d given it his best shot, offered his most persuasive argument. In the end, it was her call.
Switching gears, he summoned up a smile. “On a different subject, thank you for the picture book. It came this morning. It wasn’t necessary, but Jenna will love it.”
There was a warmth in his tone as he spoke his daughter’s name, a subtle softening of his features. Christine’s own manner thawed a fraction of a degree. “I’m glad. It’s hard to go wrong with a book about a princess for a little girl that age.”
“It was right on. Our current nightly story-time ritual alternates between Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. I could recite the books in my sleep at this point.”
A sheriff who read his child bedtime stories. Surprising. But nice. “I’m sure her mom feels the same way.”
A brief shadow darkened his eyes, like a cloud passing in front of the sun. “Her mother died when she was eighteen months old.”
Shock rippled across Christine’s features. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. My mom has stepped in to help, and that’s been a great blessing.” He nodded toward the torn-up garden. “If you have a change of heart about reporting this incident, let me know.”
With that, he turned and strode back toward his car.
Long after he left, Christine stood in the middle of her topsy-turvy pumpkin patch, thinking about the motherless little girl who called the sheriff “Dad.” Her own situation had been similar but reversed. Her father had died when she was six, before she’d formed any clear memories of him. But her mother had tried her best to compensate for the loss.
All her life, Christine had known that her mother would do anything, sacrifice anything, for her. She’d been loved with such deep devotion that nothing later in life could take away the foundation of self-worth her mother had laid. That foundation had held her in good stead through the hard times, allowing her to retain her self-esteem even as Jack had done his best to destroy it.
For some reason, Christine had a feeling that Jenna would grow up with the same solid foundation of confidence and dignity. Christine might not trust Dale Lewis as a sheriff, but she knew at some intuitive level that he was a loving, devoted father. And that if Jenna could have only one parent, she was lucky to have him.
There was a time, in a situation like this, when Christine would have uttered a silent prayer in her heart, asking the Lord to protect the little girl and to give her father strength to carry on alone. But she didn’t talk much to the Lord anymore. In her time of need He’d let her down, and her once-solid faith had faltered. Now, she regarded prayer as no more likely to yield results than standing in the middle of a pumpkin patch wishing for a fairy godmother to appear.
And as for Prince Charming… It was a whole lot safer to leave him in the pages of a fairy tale.
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