Page 18 of The Sound of Sleighbells

She sighed. “If I tell you, will you take the check?”

He took a sip of coffee. “I’ll take it. But I’m not promising to cash it. Come on, let’s sit down.”

They pulled out chairs and sat at the kitchen table, facing each other across the checked cloth. “You’re not having any coffee?” he asked.

“I’m not the one who has to drive home in the storm.”

“In that case, I’ll drink, and you talk. I’m waiting to hear that story.”

She told him then, the full account of using Abner’s credit card, leaving the groceries locked in the rear of the wagon overnight, and coming outside the next morning to find the window smashed and the bags gone.

“There was nothing to do but go and buy more. Of course, I couldn’t charge Abner’s card again. And I didn’t have a card of my own—Ed dragged me through bankruptcy with him a couple of years ago. And my checking account was almost empty.”

Strange, how natural it was to talk with him after all these years. She’d expected some awkwardness. There was none.

“So, you were prepared to write a bad check and face the consequences.” Judd was smiling now.

“My paycheck is scheduled for direct deposit on Monday. I was hoping . . .” She managed to laugh. “I was really worried. At least you saved me from that. But that doesn’t mean you’re getting away with this prank. What possessed you to pay for my groceries anyway? Did I look like that much of a hard case?”

“I was buying ice cream when I noticed you—that thumping cart was hard to ignore. You didn’t look like a hard case. But you looked like you might be having a bad day. I was going through the checkout lane when I thought, why not? It was an impulse, that’s all.”

Ruth rose from her chair and walked to the counter where she’d set her purse. She opened the clasp, whipped out her checkbook, and found a pen. “Well, impulse or not, I’m writing you this check. And if you don’t cash it, I’ll be insulted. As I said, I don’t take charity. I’ve got a job, and I can afford to pay you back.” She scrawled the check and tore it free. “There.” She thrust it toward him. “I’ve been through some tough times, but I’ve never taken a handout. Don’t you dare spoil my perfect record.”

“I’ll think on it.” He folded the check and slipped it into his shirt pocket. “You always were a proud little thing.”

“I had to be. With a father on disability and a mother working as a maid for some rich lady, pride was all I had.”

“But you were respected. And you were still the prettiest girl in Branding Iron High School.”

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t go back. We can’t.”

“No. Sorry, you’re right.” He stood. “It’s late. Time for me to hit the road. Thanks again for the coffee. Will you be bringing your boy tomorrow?”

“I suppose. I’ll let him off out front. He can go home with Trevor, and I’ll pick him up there.”

“That’s fine, though you’re welcome to come in and see what the boys are doing. I like your son. He’s well-mannered and has a level head on his shoulders. His father must’ve been a good man.”

“Yes.” Ruth’s throat tightened. “Yes, he was.”

He headed for the door. “Don’t come out. You’ll just get cold. Thanks again.”

He opened the door far enough to slip out and closed it before the cold wind could blow into the room. A moment later she heard the truck’s powerful engine start up and fade into the storm.

Knees giving way, she sank back onto the chair. She’d never wanted to see Judd again, let alone have him in her home. But he had been right here—sitting across from her at this very table, drinking coffee and talking to her almost like an old friend.

This couldn’t be allowed to go on—not for Skip, not for any of them. The secret she kept could crush them all.

His father must’ve been a good man. Judd’s words came back to haunt her. She thought of Tom Haskins, who’d been a father to Skip in every way but one. Yes, Tom had been the best. Not handsome, not romantic, but a good man in every respect.

Her parents had thrown her out of the house when they’d learned she was pregnant. She’d fled to her older, married sister, JoAnn, who lived in Cottonwood Springs. Determined to make her own way, she’d found a job waiting tables in a diner. Her pregnancy was just beginning to show when she met Tom—just out of the army and ready to build a future. He’d fallen for Ruth and proposed with the full knowledge that she was carrying another man’s baby. Then, when Skip was born, Tom had loved him like his own. They’d talked about trying for another child before it all ended, late one night when he was closing the station. He’d died instantly from a gunshot to the head.

Had she loved Tom? She had in her way. Not with the dizzying teenage passion she’d felt for Judd. But if gratitude and respect amounted to love, then yes, she’d loved him. Short and stocky with curly black hair and a prominent nose, he didn’t have the looks to make her heart flutter. But Tom’s goodness had gone all the way to the marrow of his bones.

She hadn’t fully appreciated that goodness until after she’d married Ed.

The house was quiet. Even Skip’s radio, which he liked to play in his room before going to sleep, was silent. Rising, she tiptoed down the hall and cracked the door far enough to look into the room. In the faint light, her son lay sprawled in his bed, fast asleep.

Her heart contracted with love. He must’ve worn himself out working on that harness tonight. She would let him sleep in the morning. There was no need to get him to Judd’s at an early hour—especially since it meant getting the girls up to go with her.

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