the door, and after a few seconds the reverend answered, beaming at the unexpected company. Wolfe ordered Goose and Bunny home and then accepted the reverend’s invitation to come in.
“Merry Christmas, Wolfe!” The reverend embraced him enthusiastically, but Wolfe noticed he looked very tired and had dark purple circles under his eyes.
“Reverend Peck, are you all right? You look tired.”
The reverend smiled as they sat at the small breakfast table near a large bay window that was filtering in the morning light. “I am tired. I was up all night.”
“Sick?”
“No, not sick. Inspired.”
“Really?”
“I know how to fix my church,” Reverend Peck said, a twinkle in his eye. “I know how to get people to come.”
“How?”
“Can’t tell you. I’m still working on the plan. But it hit me last night. It all came rushing to me like a giant wave.”
Wolfe nodded, his curiosity piqued. “Well, I can’t wait to see what happens.”
“Coffee?” the reverend asked.
“No, thanks. But Reverend, may I ask where you will be spending Christmas this year?”
“Here,” he smiled. “Now don’t go feeling sorry for me. Every year I get invited somewhere. But this year I thought I’d spend it with the Lord. Quietly.”
“You’re sure?” Wolfe asked. “You know Ainsley will be very upset if she knows you’re here by yourself.”
“Don’t tell her,” the reverend said. He grinned, and Wolfe couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the reverend this enthusiastic. He couldn’t help but wonder what the grand plan was. “But maybe you can drop by a plate of leftovers later.”
“I’ll make sure I do that,” Wolfe said, standing and shaking his hand. “Have a merry Christmas, Reverend.”
“It will be a Christmas I’ll never forget.”
“See?” her father said, worry carving deep creases into his brow. “Nothing.”
Ainsley and her father stood over Thief, who was flopped across the sheriff’s bed in his typical lazy way. Ainsley wasn’t sure what exactly her father was referring to. Cats by nature were lazy, and why Thief lying on the bed was any need for concern, she didn’t understand. But her father had been complaining that Thief hadn’t been himself since the surgery.
“It’s only been a couple of days,” she said, patting her father’s shoulder. “Give him time.”
The sheriff glanced at her. “It is a traumatic operation, I guess.”
“Sure,” she said. “He’ll be back to his old self soon.”
He stroked the cat’s body tenderly. “I just hope he’s okay.”
“It’s Christmas morning, Daddy. Don’t worry about it today, okay?”
They left the room together. “Let’s go downstairs. I have a present for you.”
Her heart leapt the same way it had when she was a little girl. She loved this time of morning, when they’d go downstairs, drink gourmetcoffee, open presents, and eat the special Christmas pastry she would bake. She galloped downstairs and to the tree.
It sparkled in the morning light. She’d chosen silver to be her theme this year, and it was gorgeous. With just a bit of gold thrown in, their whole tree seemed to glow with heavenly snow.
“Here,” her father said, handing her a small box, wrapped with the clumsiness of a male. She smiled. Her dad had never figured out how to make crisp corners or use invisible tape. She carefully unwrapped it. Inside there was a beautiful floral journal. She looked up at him. “A journal. You know how I love journals! I can record all my thoughts about the wedding.”
He grinned. “Open it up.”
Ainsley carefully picked up the journal, opened it, and gasped. Her mother’s handwriting filled the pages. She looked at her dad.
“I’ve been waiting to give this to you until you were to be married. This was your mother’s journal that she kept while we were engaged, all the way up to our wedding day.”
Tears blurred her vision, and she embraced her father, holding him tightly. After a few
“Merry Christmas, Wolfe!” The reverend embraced him enthusiastically, but Wolfe noticed he looked very tired and had dark purple circles under his eyes.
“Reverend Peck, are you all right? You look tired.”
The reverend smiled as they sat at the small breakfast table near a large bay window that was filtering in the morning light. “I am tired. I was up all night.”
“Sick?”
“No, not sick. Inspired.”
“Really?”
“I know how to fix my church,” Reverend Peck said, a twinkle in his eye. “I know how to get people to come.”
“How?”
“Can’t tell you. I’m still working on the plan. But it hit me last night. It all came rushing to me like a giant wave.”
Wolfe nodded, his curiosity piqued. “Well, I can’t wait to see what happens.”
“Coffee?” the reverend asked.
“No, thanks. But Reverend, may I ask where you will be spending Christmas this year?”
“Here,” he smiled. “Now don’t go feeling sorry for me. Every year I get invited somewhere. But this year I thought I’d spend it with the Lord. Quietly.”
“You’re sure?” Wolfe asked. “You know Ainsley will be very upset if she knows you’re here by yourself.”
“Don’t tell her,” the reverend said. He grinned, and Wolfe couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the reverend this enthusiastic. He couldn’t help but wonder what the grand plan was. “But maybe you can drop by a plate of leftovers later.”
“I’ll make sure I do that,” Wolfe said, standing and shaking his hand. “Have a merry Christmas, Reverend.”
“It will be a Christmas I’ll never forget.”
“See?” her father said, worry carving deep creases into his brow. “Nothing.”
Ainsley and her father stood over Thief, who was flopped across the sheriff’s bed in his typical lazy way. Ainsley wasn’t sure what exactly her father was referring to. Cats by nature were lazy, and why Thief lying on the bed was any need for concern, she didn’t understand. But her father had been complaining that Thief hadn’t been himself since the surgery.
“It’s only been a couple of days,” she said, patting her father’s shoulder. “Give him time.”
The sheriff glanced at her. “It is a traumatic operation, I guess.”
“Sure,” she said. “He’ll be back to his old self soon.”
He stroked the cat’s body tenderly. “I just hope he’s okay.”
“It’s Christmas morning, Daddy. Don’t worry about it today, okay?”
They left the room together. “Let’s go downstairs. I have a present for you.”
Her heart leapt the same way it had when she was a little girl. She loved this time of morning, when they’d go downstairs, drink gourmetcoffee, open presents, and eat the special Christmas pastry she would bake. She galloped downstairs and to the tree.
It sparkled in the morning light. She’d chosen silver to be her theme this year, and it was gorgeous. With just a bit of gold thrown in, their whole tree seemed to glow with heavenly snow.
“Here,” her father said, handing her a small box, wrapped with the clumsiness of a male. She smiled. Her dad had never figured out how to make crisp corners or use invisible tape. She carefully unwrapped it. Inside there was a beautiful floral journal. She looked up at him. “A journal. You know how I love journals! I can record all my thoughts about the wedding.”
He grinned. “Open it up.”
Ainsley carefully picked up the journal, opened it, and gasped. Her mother’s handwriting filled the pages. She looked at her dad.
“I’ve been waiting to give this to you until you were to be married. This was your mother’s journal that she kept while we were engaged, all the way up to our wedding day.”
Tears blurred her vision, and she embraced her father, holding him tightly. After a few
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