The Forest Ranger's Christmas. Leigh Bale

Josie stood beside the doorway, arms folded, her mouth set tight in outrage. Clint decided to be patient. He couldn’t help feeling surprised to see her here. Christmas was still weeks away and he knew from talking to Josie’s grandparents that she’d never spent this much time with them in the past. Not since she was a little kid. So why was she here?

      “How’s your work at the pharmacy going?” he asked, trying to make small talk. Trying to keep from becoming her enemy.

      “Fine.” Her clipped reply didn’t encourage further banter.

      “It must have required a lot of schooling to become a pharmacist.”

      “It did.”

      He thought about his own master’s degree in geology. Even with his advanced education, he still felt like a fool in this woman’s presence. All jittery and nervous. He could take or leave most women. But with Josie, something was different. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was as though he knew her from some far-off memory. As if there was a magnetic attraction he didn’t understand, yet couldn’t deny.

      “You’re in early for a holiday visit this year,” he said.

      “That’s right.”

      “Any special reason?”

      “It’s not your concern.”

      He rubbed his hand against his bristly chin. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

      She was a blunt little thing, he’d give her that. So blunt that she bordered on rude. But Clint got the impression it was all an act. A form of self-preservation. He could read it in her wary eyes. A mist of fear seemed to hover over her. And that brought out the protective instincts in him like never before. Safeguarding women was a weakness he’d never seemed able to overcome. His own mother had been widowed after Clint had graduated from college, so he came by the trait naturally. Mom had needed his help and he’d gladly stepped up to the task. But Josie was different. Caring for another woman would only bring him and his daughter more heartache. Something he must avoid like the plague.

      Yes, he knew something was up. He could feel it in his bones. Even so, Josie was right. Her presence here wasn’t his business. He tried to tell himself he didn’t care, but he knew that wasn’t true. She obviously didn’t want to tell him about it, so he shut up.

      A horrible silence followed.

      Frank returned, wire-rimmed spectacles in hand. It took another two laborious minutes for him to clean them, then plant the glasses firmly on the bridge of his nose before he held up the pamphlet and stared at the words. His hand trembled, betraying his anxiety. But he didn’t read. Not a single word.

      Possibly because he was holding the pamphlet upside down.

      Clint stepped forward and gently turned the leaflet right side up. With eagle-eyed focus, Josie watched every move.

      She laid a hand on his arm. “Gramps? Read it out loud.”

      The tender gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Clint. Maybe it was good she was here to offer moral support to her grandfather.

      Frank whipped the glasses off his face and tossed them on the table. They clattered against the porcelain cookie jar shaped like a yellow pineapple. Josie gasped and stepped back.

      Frank stared at the floor, obviously embarrassed. And Clint hated every minute of it, knowing he was the cause. Knowing he’d hurt this good man to the core.

      “I’m sorry, Josie. The ranger’s right. I can’t read. Not a word,” Frank said.

      “Gramps!” A look of incredulity washed over Josie’s face and she clapped a hand to her mouth in disbelief.

      All the sadness of the world filled Frank’s gaze, a lost expression Clint had frequently seen in Karen’s eyes.

      “Why do you think after your mom died your grandma and I pushed you so hard to do well in school?” Frank asked Josie. “We didn’t want you to end up like me. Can’t even read the daily newspaper. Uneducated and stupid.”

      “You’re not stupid, Gramps. You’re the smartest man I know,” Josie objected in a passionate voice.

      Clint agreed. “Definitely. You’re very smart, Frank. Being able to read has nothing to do with a person’s intelligence, believe me.”

      But a sick feeling settled in Clint’s gut. He took no delight in revealing the truth. He’d suspected for a long time that Frank couldn’t read. Too many clues had led to this conclusion. But now, Clint’s heart tightened with compassion. He couldn’t forget how Frank and his wife had lovingly provided child care for his daughter when they’d first moved to town three years earlier. Even when Clint had been called out overnight to fight wildfires, Frank and Viola Rushton had tended his little girl as if she were their very own. And look how Clint repaid them. By revealing a secret Frank had kept hidden all his life.

      The elderly man lifted his gaze to Clint, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “What gave me away?”

      Clint smiled warmly, trying to lighten the tense moment. Trying to show an increase of love toward this good man and his irascible granddaughter. After all, it was the Christian thing to do.

      “To begin with, you held the hymnal upside down at church once. I’ve also noticed you can’t seem to orient yourself in the scriptures. You flip through the pages and quote them from memory better than anyone I know, but you can’t find a specific verse when the Sunday school teacher calls on you. And I’ve seen you at the power company, paying your bills in person, with cash, instead of paying online or mailing in a check, like most people do.”

      Josie narrowed her eyes. “How would paying with cash indicate he can’t read?”

      “My wife did the same thing. She always paid our bills in cash because she couldn’t write a check.” Clint had been proud of Karen’s accomplishment when she’d learned to read, but he didn’t like talking about her now. Even after seven years, the pain of how she’d died was still too raw, the guilt over her death still too fresh.

      “I don’t understand,” Josie said.

      Clint released a deep sigh. “Let’s just say I recognized the signs. You fake it quite well, Frank. And today, when you claimed you hadn’t read the tree permit signs up on the mountain, it all added up. Those signs are too large for anyone to miss, unless you can’t read them.”

      And Clint knew firsthand what it was like to cope with illiteracy. Karen had been highly defensive about her disability and had found ways to hide it from other people. She’d constantly feared someone might find out and make fun of her. That, coupled with the physical abuse she’d endured as a child, had left Karen with no self-esteem whatsoever. Even after they’d married and she’d learned to read, she’d never gained much confidence. And no matter how hard Clint tried to convince her, she’d never really believed that he or God loved her.

      Clint had failed to make Karen happy, but he was determined to make a difference for Frank.

      “What now? Will you have me arrested anyway?” Frank asked, his bushy brows arched in misery.

      Josie gave a sharp inhalation and Clint inwardly cringed. It was bad enough to reveal Frank’s secret without worrying about Josie’s disapproval. At least her concern for her grandfather appeared genuine. But Clint wished once more that she wasn’t here to complicate the issue. Then again, maybe she could help remedy the problem.

      “No, you’re not going to jail.” Clint stepped forward and rested a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Frank. You can see now why I thought we should speak in private. I didn’t want to advertise this. I just want to help.”

      Frank dragged back one of the chairs before dropping into it. He raked his fingers through his thin white hair, making it stand on end. Josie walked to her grandfather and rubbed his back, offering silent support. The man reached up and patted her hand, then leaned his elbows on the table, looking wilted with defeat.