The Christmas Child. Линда Гуднайт

wry twist to one side of his mouth, Kade nodded. “My sweats, too. His clothes are in the dryer.”

      Davey pushed the cover away and stood. The oversize black pants puddled around his feet. Sophie laughed. “I need a camera.”

      Davey looked down, and then, too serious, glanced from Sophie to Kade and back again, eyes wide and uncertain.

      “Guess what? We have some great new clothes for you. You want to look through the bag and find something you like?” She dragged the bag from the chair with a plastic thud against green shag carpet and pulled open the yellow tie. “There’s a very cool sweatshirt in here. And wait till you see this awesome jacket with a hood and secret zip-up pockets.”

      She was rewarded when Davey realized her mission and went to his knees next to the bag. Sophie held up a T-shirt. “What do you think?”

      He nodded eagerly, then plunged his hands into the sack and removed a pair of cowboy boots. His whole body reacted. He hopped up, stumbled on his long pants and would have gone down if Kade, swift as a cat, hadn’t caught him. “Easy, pard.”

      “I think he likes his new duds.”

      Davey held the boots up for Kade’s inspection. Sophie watched with interest as the man pretended to consider before nodding his head. “Shoulda been a cowboy myself.”

      Davey’s face broke into a wide smile. He plopped onto the floor and shoved at the too-long pants to find his feet. Sophie’s smile widened. “Here, Davey. I think you could use some help.”

      Kade moved into action. “Why don’t we find some jeans first and then try the boots?”

      But Davey was already shoving his small feet into the brown-and-white-stitched footwear. His foot went in with an easy whoosh of skin against leather. Thrilled, smile wide enough to crack his cheeks, he leaned in to hug her from the side. Sophie’s heart pinched. The boots were obviously too big, but Davey behaved as though she’d given him the best Christmas present of his life.

      He levered himself up with her shoulder and attempted to clomp around, still grinning. The sweats puddled on the floor and tripped him up again. Kade reached out to steady him, expression inscrutable. “Grab him some jeans. I’ll help him change.”

      Sophie did as he asked, touched when Kade hoisted Davey under one arm and carted him, boots, jeans and all, sweats flopping in the empty space beneath Davey’s feet, to another room. Sheba padded softly behind, her nose inches from Kade.

      Minutes later Sophie heard a clomp, clomp as the trio returned, Davey dressed in clean jeans, a Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt and the too-big boots. Kade had dampened the child’s pale hair and brushed away the bedhead.

      “Well, don’t you look handsome?”

      Davey beamed and clomped to her. Sheba followed, her nose poked beneath his hand as though expecting him to fall at any moment and prepared to catch him.

      “I think the clothes are a hit,” Kade said.

      “The boots are for certain.” Sophie dipped in the bag. “Davey, we might as well go through these and see what else you like. You can keep anything that fits.”

      As they rummaged through the hand-me-downs, Sophie was a little too aware of Kade kneeling beside her, his taut arm brushing hers as they pulled clothes from the sack. There was a stealthy danger about him, a rigid control she assumed came from his work in law enforcement. Special units, he’d said. Now she wondered what he’d meant.

      She was holding a blue dress shirt under Davey’s chin, his little arms spread wide to test the sleeve length, when they heard a car in the drive.

      “Ida June?” she asked.

      A minute later, the doorbell chimed. “Apparently not.”

      Kade shoved to his feet and went to answer. Sophie heard voices but thought nothing of them until Kade returned, trailed by a man in a business suit. Sophie’s pleasure seeped away.

      “Hello, Howard.” She knew the social worker from school and the times he’d come to interview teachers about a child’s well-being. Good at his job, professional and thorough, she’d always been glad to have him in a child’s corner. Until today.

      “Sophie, how are you?”

      “Great.” She’d been better. “Is everything okay? Davey’s doing fine here, as you can see. We’re sorting through some clothes my students donated.”

      “Nice of you to take an interest. Tell your students thanks. We appreciate all you’ve done. Both of you.”

      “No problem. Davey’s a good boy.”

      “The Cunninghams will be glad to hear that.”

      Dread pulled at Sophie’s belly. “The Cunninghams?”

      “The foster family. We got lucky. They can take him today.”

      Sophie made a small sound of distress. “He’s doing fine here, Howard. Why not leave him with Kade and Ida June?”

      “Neither has foster-parenting credentials or clearances. The Cunninghams are paper-ready.”

      “You’ve known Ida June forever and Kade is in law enforcement.”

      “The system doesn’t work that way. Sorry. The Cunninghams are a good family with experience with special-needs children. He’ll do well with them.” Howard hitched the crease of his navy slacks and went to one knee in front of Davey. “My name is Mr. Prichard, Davey. You’ll be coming with me today. There’s a family waiting to meet you. You’re going to like it at their house.”

      Davey frowned, bewildered gaze moving from Howard to Sophie and Kade.

      “Howard,” Sophie said, beseeching.

      “I have a job to do, Sophie. Our department comes under enough fire as it is. We have to follow procedures.” The social worker rose, matter-of-fact. “If you’d gather his belongings, he can take them along.”

      “This is all he has.” The plastic bag crinkled as she pushed at it. A few hand-me-down clothes and an oversize pair of boots.

      “More than most have, sad to say. Come along, Davey.” The man grasped Davey’s hand and started for the door. Davey jerked away and ran to Kade, throwing his arms around the familiar man’s legs. Sheba whined and pushed against Davey’s back. He fell against her neck and clung.

      “Let him stay.” Kade’s voice was hard as granite.

      Howard ignored the request. “Come now, Davey.” When the boy didn’t obey, the social worker scooped Davey into his arms and headed to the car. Davey squirmed but didn’t make a sound. The silence was more terrible than any amount of crying.

      Sophie followed, fighting tears, her throat clogged with emotion. She pushed Davey’s beloved book into his hands. “It’s okay, Davey. I know the Cunningham family. They’re nice people. I’ll call you. I’ll come over and see you. We’ll find your family. I promise. I promise. Don’t be afraid.”

      Tense fingers caught her arm. Kade, face as hard as ice, said, “Don’t make promises.”

      Sophie stopped in the driveway next to the black Taurus and forced an encouraging smile as the social worker buckled the little lost boy into the backseat. Beside her, Kade said nothing, but anger seethed from him, hot against the evening chill. She lifted her hand, waved and held on to the fake smile while the car backed into the street and pulled away.

      A cold wind swirled around her, lifted her hair, scattered scratchy brown leaves across the pavement. The dark sedan turned the corner, out of sight now.

      Sophie lowered her hand and stood dejected in the bleak afternoon. What a sad way to spend Christmas.

       Be with him, Jesus.

      Even though her prayer was heartfelt, Sophie knew little comfort.