The Sheriff's Christmas Twins

Chapter Four

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Shane checked the first floor. No sign of Allison. Thinking she might’ve decided to take a nap after her long journey, he ascended the stairs and peeked into her room. The bed was made, her trunks pushed into a neat row beneath the windows on the far wall. The other bedrooms were also empty.

Determined to unload the supplies as quickly as possible and get back to the jail, impatience jabbed at him as he bypassed the unoccupied outhouse.

Where had she gotten off to?

Intent on scanning the fields to his right, he almost walked smack into the smokehouse. Scowling, he sidestepped and stopped short. A female figure was crouched half inside the smokehouse’s squat entrance.

“Allison.”

She lurched. Banged her head against the wood. “Ouch!” Scrambling outside, she rubbed the sore spot. “Did you have to startle me like that?”

“I’ve been searching everywhere for you. You weren’t in the house, the barn...” He wasn’t about to admit the trepidation that had roared to life inside him. “I thought I told you to stay inside.”

“You did.” The baleful look she shot him transformed into a grimace. “I’m not one of your locals to boss about, however.”

“What were you looking for in there?” He motioned to the smokehouse.

“Nothing. I was simply curious what was inside.”

Shane removed his gloves and, stuffing them in his coat pocket, moved to her side. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he insisted, nudging her hand aside. His fingers gentle on her scalp, he examined the spot. “It didn’t break the skin.”

She was very close, her round shoulder butting against his chest, the fruity fragrance clinging to her person inviting him closer. She was soft and warm and feminine, traits that were nonexistent in his world of crime and punishment.

“I told you it was nothing,” she whispered, her voice off-kilter.

He took a big step back, his huff creating white puffs that hovered in the air. “You’ve always been a troublesome female, you know that?”

Her chin whipped up. “Excuse me?”

“You kept your father and brother hopping to keep up with your antics. I was thankfully too wise to join in.”

“If I was guilty of anything back then, it was trying to be your friend.”

Brushing past him in a swirl of petticoats and skirts, she marched in the direction of the house. Smoke curled from both chimneys into the gray sky above. She’d restrained her mane with a single blue ribbon, and the long ponytail bounced with the force of her steps.

He watched her for a moment before going after her, wishing for the first time in a long time that he had the kind of relationship with God that David Ashworth and his friends, the O’Malleys, had. He could sure use some divine help right then. But he’d never gotten over the feeling of abandonment that had taken root in his childhood. His pleas for his pa to come and rescue him, for his ma to truly change, for someone, anyone, to help make things better, had gone unanswered. Ignored. So he’d stopped asking.

Catching up to her at the corner of the house, he fell into step beside her, choosing to introduce a whole new subject. The past was a prickly maze of disappointment and confusion. Best to avoid it.

“I think you’re gonna like what I brought for you.”

“Oh?” She got that gleam in her eye that he didn’t trust. “Did you bring me a Christmas tree? A wreath? Greenery to decorate the mantel?”

His pace slowed. “Huh?”

“I think I’d like a cluster of mistletoe, as well. Maybe two.”

“What do you need all that for? You’re only going to be here a few weeks.”

“The most important weeks of the entire year.”

“Hold on.” He halted beside the wagon bed. “Why would you want mistletoe?”

Her crimson lips curved into a smile that many would find winsome. To him, it meant trouble. “You never know when an eligible suitor might pay me a visit at some point during my stay. Best to be prepared.”

Shane was like an unarmed man in an ambush as jealousy pummeled him. While she hadn’t mentioned Ben specifically, an image of his deputy and Allison locked in each other’s arms beneath the mistletoe wedged its way into his mind. Once there, he couldn’t dislodge it.

“What about Trevor Langston?” he ground out.

“Trevor and I don’t have an understanding,” she said airily. “I haven’t yet accepted his suit.”

Going to the rear of the bed, she peered into the multiple crates. He followed, irritated that she was here one day and already getting under his skin. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“You’re leaving within a month. That’s hardly enough time to court.”

She ignored him as she continued to catalog the contents.

“I hope you’re not considering Ben. He’s not the settling-down type,” he went on. “Don’t pin your hopes on the likes of him. I mean it, Allison.”

“I’m not pinning my hopes on anyone.” Rolling her eyes, she planted her hands on her hips. “I’m teasing, Mr. Lawman. The mistletoe is for decoration...and maybe George and Clarissa. The children descend into giggling fits whenever their parents smooch. It’s quite entertaining.”

Her nose wrinkled adorably, and suddenly he was thinking about someone other than Ben kissing her beneath the mistletoe. Someone like himself.

Having reached the limit of his patience, Shane stifled a groan and, loading his arms with heavy crates, made his way to the kitchen. It took several trips to unload everything. He didn’t stay to help her unpack. Murmuring an excuse about work, he promised to swing by the following morning before beating a hasty retreat.

“Hurry up and get here, George,” he muttered.

At the livery, Milton Warring met him at the entrance, stained fingers tugging at his scraggly beard.

“What’s on your mind, Warring?”

“I’ve found evidence of a trespasser.”

Shane climbed down and let Warring’s assistant take over the rented wagon and team. When the lad was out of earshot, he said, “Show me.”

The livery owner led him upstairs into the loft where mostly hay and other supplies were stored. Near the shuttered opening overlooking Main Street, he spotted an empty tin of beans and nudged it with his toe. Inside, a dirty spoon rattled. Shane bent and examined the tin and raked through the scattered straw for other clues.

“Is it possible your hired boy ate his lunch up here and forgot to clean up after himself?”

“He eats his lunch on the bench out front most days. I asked to be sure, and he denies this is his.”

Shane walked the perimeter of the space, his gaze sweeping the planks. Near the ladder opening, he reached down and plucked a gold necklace from the straw. “Recognize this?”

Taking turns, they examined the locket and faded photo of a woman. “Haven’t seen her before,” Warring said. “You?”

“Nope.” Slipping it in his pocket, Shane said, “I’ll ask around. See if anyone has an idea who she might be.”

He scowled. “You think he’ll come back?”

“It’s a lot warmer in here than it is out there. If he got away with it once, he’ll try again. Unless he’s moved on.”

Their town saw a lot of travelers passing through on their way to or from North Carolina. Most were respectable folks. It was the disreputable few he had to worry about.

Shane put his boot on the ladder’s top rung. “Ben and I’ll take turns watching the place.”

“Good. I want that rascal caught.”

“Keep an eye out for anything else suspicious.”

He left the livery and headed for his office. His deputy was warming his hands at the woodstove and looked up at his entrance.

“We have a potential problem over at Warring’s.” Shane related the scant details and warned him to be on alert for unfamiliar faces.

“Will do, boss.” He gave a short nod. “You get Allison settled over at the Wattses’ place?”

“She’s Miss Ashworth to you. And I’d prefer it if you’d steer clear of her.”

Folding his arms over his chest, Ben met his gaze squarely. “Because she’s just here for Christmas? Or because you want her for yourself?”

When it became clear a couple of years back that he needed to hire help, he’d chosen Ben MacGregor because of his astute mind and discernment skills. They worked well together. Shane didn’t approve of his deputy’s flippant attitude toward women, but his personal life was none of his business.

“I don’t care what you do on your own time or who you involve, as long as you uphold the reputation of this office. But I won’t have you trifling with Allison’s emotions.”

“You didn’t answer the question.” From his stance and unyielding stare, it was obvious he wasn’t going to drop the matter.

“There’s nothing romantic between us. Never has been. She’s like a sister to me.” The words sounded false, even to his ears. “I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“I respect you, Shane. As my boss, but also as a man. I’d be an idiot to ruin our professional relationship by doing something stupid regarding your friend.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

“I’m not finished.” He held up a hand. “Seeing as how I’m not an idiot, you can rest assured that any relationship I pursue with her will be respectable.”

Shane curled his hands into fists, the buckskin gloves molding to his knuckles. For the first time since they started working together, he was tempted to plant his fist in the other man’s face. All because of Allison.

“If you hurt her, your career in law enforcement is over.”

Ben’s eyes widened a fraction. “That’s not going to happen.”

“See that it doesn’t.”

Pivoting on his heel, Shane stormed out with no idea where he was headed.

* * *

The tantalizing scents of sizzling bacon and rich-bodied coffee woke her. Snuggling deeper into the cocoon of quilts, it took several moments for Allison to remember that she was not at Ashworth House. She shot up in bed.

Pushing the tangled mass out of her eyes, she blinked at the framed needlework on the opposite wall and the mountain view through the nearest window. She inhaled again, and her stomach rumbled in anticipation. Leaping out of bed and wincing at the cold shock to her stocking feet, she hurried to the wardrobe.

Shane must’ve paid someone to cook meals for her. He’d seemed reluctant to share a meal with her yesterday. No way would he commit to cooking for her the duration of her visit. Although a thoughtful gesture, it would’ve been nice if he’d alerted her to his plans.

She chose one of her favorite dresses, a soft but sturdy material of rich cream dotted with orange and green flowers and trimmed in green ribbon. The dress put her in mind of her beloved estate gardens in springtime. Once dressed, she brushed her hair until it shone and arranged it in a twist.

Descending the stairs, Allison noticed a sorrel horse hitched to the post out front. She entered the kitchen and the polite greeting died on her lips.

“What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

She crossed her arms, irrationally annoyed with him. “You of all people should know it’s a bad idea to let yourself into someone else’s house while they’re sleeping.”

Shane scooped a pile of fluffy eggs onto a plate, along with biscuits and a thick, white sauce. “Most intruders don’t cook you breakfast.” He held the plate out. “Have a seat. There’s milk on the table. If you’d prefer coffee, the kettle’s there.”

Allison accepted the plate. The food smelled amazing, especially after the modest, cold supper of cheese and bread she’d had last evening. “What is the white stuff? Are those lumps in there?”

“You’ve never had sausage gravy?”

“I’ve had brown gravy.”

“Biscuits and gravy is a common breakfast food here. Try it and see if you like it.”

She carried her plate to the dining room. He joined her in a few moments with his own breakfast and, assuming the same chair he’d occupied the day before, picked up his fork and spiked a clump of eggs.

“Shouldn’t we say grace?”

He looked startled. “You’re right. I forgot. Would you mind?”

Allison nodded, unsure if he was too shy to pray aloud or if his reluctance stemmed from a lack of confidence in God’s love. Lord, please give me the courage to broach the subject. Give me the right words.

Catching her off guard, Shane settled his fingers over hers atop the tablecloth. Her focus shattered. The heat from his hand seeped into hers. His skin was rougher than hers, his bones denser, his hold firm and sure. Allison curved her fingers inward, capturing his, returning the pressure. His breath hitched. Her own heart tumbled in her chest. This wasn’t the first time they’d held hands.

That other time he’d been guiding her through the woods to safety and, although he’d scolded her for wandering off alone the entire trek home, he’d allowed her to cling to his hand, a lifeline in a dark and stormy night.

The rare moments of physical contact stood out in her mind because Shane either hadn’t liked the connection or hadn’t known how to handle it. Their chief cook, a boisterous, vivacious woman who’d been liberal with her affection, had hugged him just like she did everyone else. Instead of returning the embrace, he’d stood rock still, his arms imprisoned at his sides, looking as if he was being prodded with a hot poker. When her father had occasionally given Shane a hearty pat on the back or slung an arm about his shoulder, he’d stiffened. Allison’s heart had broken each time she witnessed his reaction.

Since he refused to open up about his childhood, she was left to imagine the terrible things he must’ve endured.

Her prayer was brief. He tugged free of her and turned his full attention to his meal. Tension prickled between them. Allison ate without speaking, her thoughts racing. He had yet to show her where he worked and lived. Did he eat alone most of the time? The thought made her sad. And unexpectedly annoyed. If only he wasn’t so stubborn, so determined to remain aloof and unaffected by the people in his life.

“How do you like the gravy?” His soft query brought her attention to his implacable blue gaze.

“It’s delicious.” The biscuits were large and doughy and not beneficial to her waistline. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“In Kansas. I didn’t have a lot of extra money to spend in restaurants, and I got tired of corn mush and beans real quick. The sheriff I was working for was a widower, and he’d invite me over sometimes. I commented once how I’d wished I’d learned, and the cooking lessons commenced.”

“I wish I could’ve seen that.” She smiled at the mental image of a pair of tough lawmen puttering around a kitchen.

“I’m sure you do.” One corner of his mouth tipped up. It wasn’t a full-fledged smile, but it was still able to make her spirits soar.

“You could pass on a few of those lessons, you know.”

“Sorry. I’m not much of a teacher.”

“Like you’re not much of a writer?”

Over the rim of his coffee cup, he blinked at her. When he lowered it, a wrinkle tugged his brows together and the grim set of his lips returned.

“How did you fare during the night?”

Allison allowed the change in subject. She truly didn’t want to travel down this road because, first, he likely wasn’t going to admit his reasons for disliking her, and second, she didn’t want to be the one to put that frown on his face. She wanted to make him smile and laugh. She wanted to bring him joy.

You didn’t manage that before, a voice reminded her. Nothing has changed except for the fact he’s had more practice retreating into his protective shell.

“Not terrible. There were creaks and groans that prevented me from falling asleep right away. It will take some time to get used to being alone in a big house.”

“Your brother will be here before too long.”

Allison didn’t tell him about the idea she’d been pondering for months. While George and Clarissa were happy with the current arrangement, she’d been thinking more and more about setting up her own household, a smaller house with fewer staff in a good section of the city. Of course, that had been before she’d decided to give Trevor a fair shot at winning her heart, a decision goaded by Shane’s presence and the hurtful memories he revived.

He downed the last of his coffee and stood. “Are you interested in a trip to town?”

“Certainly. What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking I’d introduce you to the woman I told you about... Caroline Turner. The two of you can discuss holiday stuff while I see to business.”

He was pawning her off on a stranger. Allison tried not to let her disappointment show. “What kind of business?”

Striding into the kitchen, he spoke over his shoulder. “Work-related.”

She swallowed the last bite and, gazing longingly at the dish of remaining biscuits, turned away and joined him by the dry sink. “Do you have to resolve another argument among neighbors?”

He took her plate and submerged it in a basin of soapy water. “No. Why?”

“My world is almost completely made up of ledgers and employee disputes and company policy. It’s predictable and mundane. I’d like to see what a typical day for a sheriff is like.”

“My job isn’t as exciting as you might imagine. Sure, there are days when I have to break up fights or investigate crimes. But there are long stretches of inactivity that anyone would consider boring.”

“At least show me the jail.”

“Since the cells are unoccupied at the moment, I can do that.”

“I’d like to see your home, as well.”

“It’s nothing special.”

“Please?”

“Why is it important to you?”

“After I return to Norfolk, and George tells me what you’ve written in your latest letter, I’ll be able to picture you in your jail or your home. Much more satisfying than a blank void.”

He got a funny look on his face...like an apology. Did he regret not contacting her? Was he about to promise to change his ways after this visit? He opened his mouth, apparently searching for the right words.

“I’ll take you after lunch.”

Breaking eye contact, she headed for the exit. “I’ll gather my things.”

Maybe seeing him in his environment wasn’t the best idea. Sure, she’d be able to picture him more easily. But she’d also be able to remember being in those spaces with him. She’d wish she could return and be with him, a future that was out of the realm of possibility.

Not only would he not welcome a second visit from her, but she was determined to give a relationship with Trevor an honest try. That meant cutting all ties to her girlhood dreams.

Chapter Five

Caroline Turner was flawless.

She lived in a flawless house and wore flawless clothes that displayed her flawless figure.

Allison sat in the Turners’ sumptuous parlor, sipping golden floral tea from a china cup and listening as the young woman listed Gatlinburg’s holiday-themed events. She exuded quiet elegance. Her white-gold hair was scraped into a neat bun at the base of her neck. A double string of iridescent pearls complemented her off-white bodice, as did the pearl earrings at her ears. She had large, dark blue eyes, almost navy-colored, that weren’t as happy as someone with a flawless life should be. Her smile wasn’t happy, either. It was one a person pinned on for guests.

“We typically have a large turnout for our annual nativity unveiling.” Caroline’s gaze was assessing. “The sheriff doesn’t attend many of our holiday functions. I wonder if that will change this year.”

“He never has been one for social functions.”

“While our humble festivities can’t possibly measure up to what you’re accustomed to, I’m certain you’d enjoy yourself.”

“Norfolk has a great many events to experience, it’s true. However, I’m certain I will enjoy what Gatlinburg has to offer.” Allison placed her cup and saucer on the low coffee table between them. Caroline must’ve seen her eyeing the tray of jumble cookies, because she picked it up and extended it her direction.

“Please, have as many as you’d like.”

“I shouldn’t,” she said, even as the scents of juicy raisins and walnuts teased her nostrils. “I’ve had two already.”

Caroline offered her a sincere smile then, one that lit up her entire face and made her less perfect. “I find them hard to resist myself.” Taking one, she sunk her teeth into it and made a little sound of appreciation. “We only have them around the holidays.”

Allison returned the smile and chose a third cookie.

“I know it’s bad manners to pry, but Shane hasn’t spoken of you before. Or anyone else from his past, for that matter. May I ask how you know each other?”

Having already prepared a standard answer to this exact question, she said, “Shane’s a close friend of my family. He worked for my father.”

“I didn’t realize he’d lived in Virginia.” Brushing imaginary crumbs from her pleated skirts, she remarked, “I’d heard he moved here from Kansas and assumed that was his home state.”

“He’s always been a private person. In fact, he’d be annoyed if he knew you and I were discussing him.”

“I’m afraid he’s invited more scrutiny by keeping your existence a secret.”

“I told him as much myself,” Allison said. “He didn’t appreciate it.”

A husky laugh burst out of her. “I think I’m going to like you, Allison Ashworth. I’m going to relish watching you pull the rug from beneath the staid sheriff’s feet.”

Unsure how to respond, she was grateful when her hostess didn’t probe further. Caroline returned to the topic of Christmas, specifically their custom of assembling gift baskets for the poor. Allison was keen to assist. Charitable endeavors took up much of her free time back home, holidays or no.

A half hour past the time of Shane’s specified return, the teapot was drained dry and only crumbs remained on the plate. Besides remorse, Allison felt embarrassment for monopolizing Caroline’s morning. When she caught her checking the mantel clock a second time, Allison went to retrieve her gloves from the carved hall stand.

“I appreciate your hospitality, Caroline. Shane must’ve gotten detained.”

“I’ve enjoyed our chat. I hope I didn’t make you feel as if you overstayed your welcome.” Following her to the foyer where Allison fastened on her cloak, Caroline fiddled with her pearl necklace. “I’m waiting for my father to return from a trip. Today is my birthday, and he promised to be home no later than today.”

There was a hint of vulnerability in the younger woman’s expression, yet another crack in her sophisticated facade.

“Happy birthday. You’re fortunate to have your father with you. Mine passed away many years ago, and I still miss him terribly.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” The corners of Caroline’s mouth turned down. “I’m afraid my father and I don’t have the best of relationships.”

Allison’s hand paused on the knob. “Oh?”

Pink suffused her skin. “What could I be thinking of? My manners have deserted me today. Please forgive me, Allison. You don’t want to hear about my family woes.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t feel as if you have to leave. You’re welcome to stay for lunch.”

“I appreciate the invitation, but I’d actually like to explore the town a bit. Would you mind telling Shane I’ve gone to do a little shopping?”

“Certainly.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you again soon.”

“As am I.”

The cold enveloped her as she strolled in the direction of Main Street. Fortunately, she’d been blessed with a good sense of her surroundings. On the way, the clouds parted and a shaft of sunlight warmed her.

She wished she could speak to her brother. Tell him about the rented farmhouse, the quaint mountain town, her excitement about experiencing Christmas in a new place. Like Shane, she hoped George wasn’t long delayed. Spending time alone with the lawman was both heady and frustrating.

Help me guard my heart, Lord, she prayed.

Caring too much for Shane Timmons had always been a problem with no solution.

* * *

“Where’s that pretty little filly of yours, Sheriff?”

Striding past the barber shop on his way to the mercantile, Shane ignored the good-natured teasing. He’d brought it upon himself. If he hadn’t been so flustered by the prospect of her visit, he would’ve seen the wisdom in letting the news travel the grapevine before her arrival. Folks wouldn’t have been as shocked.

Over the years, he’d worked hard to make the Timmons name one to be respected and revered. He’d earned his current reputation as a just, honorable, hardworking man of the law, and he wasn’t about to let anything tarnish it.

He’d spent too many years carrying his sloppy drunk of a mother home through the Norfolk streets, trying to ignore the vulgar taunts and insults hurled their way. In their poverty-stricken neighborhood, he’d been known as a boy no one wanted. He’d been born to poor, unwed parents. His father hadn’t cared enough to stick around and his mother detested her life to the point she had to drown her sorrows in alcohol every night. His maternal grandparents had refused to acknowledge him and moved away shortly after his birth. He’d never met his father’s family. Doubted they even knew of his existence.

On the boardwalk, Shane passed a pair of young men. They waited until he was several yards away before calling after him.

“Where’s the paint lady? Heard she’s a real looker under all that green goo.”

“Hey, Sheriff, are you two courtin’?”

Not breaking his stride, he allowed their words to bounce off him. They weren’t cruel like the ones he’d endured as a youth, but they called forth excruciating memories better left in the dark shadows of his mind.

Paint lady. Allison was going to love that.

The mercantile’s bell jangled as he walked in. The store was bustling with activity, as it would be until after the holiday. The scents of cinnamon, cloves and oranges permeated the air. Quinn and Nicole had complimentary cups of spiced cider available during the weeks leading up to Christmas. It helped ward off the chill, especially for those folks who traveled miles to get here.

Several people glanced his way, speculation flaring as their gazes switched from him to a point in the paper goods section. Allison’s flaxen hair glistened in the natural light as she tilted her head this way and that, examining a sheaf of decorative papers. If she was aware of his scrutiny, she didn’t indicate it.

His neck burning at the unwanted attention his presence was drawing, he wound his way through the crowded aisles to reach her.

“I’m sorry I ran late.” He pitched his voice low. “Caroline said you might be here.”

“It’s all right,” she said, casually holding the sheaf to her chest as she lifted her emerald gaze to his. “I figure that’s standard for a sheriff.”

“You’re not upset?”

“No.” She gave him a strange look. “I’ve taken advantage of the free time to do some shopping.”

“What are you planning on doing with those papers?”

“You’ll see.” With a conspiratorial wink, she started for the counter.

He followed in her wake, aware that their every word and gesture was being monitored.

“You can assist me in my project if you’d like.” Her bright smile invited him to share in her enthusiasm.

“I’m not committing to anything until I know what it is you have in mind.”

They reached the long, worn-smooth counter where glass displays housed everything from razors to colored-glass bowls to jewelry. She paused before the display of cakes and pies, her eyes round. He hadn’t forgotten her penchant for sweets. The Ashworth cook had catered to Allison’s preferences, and he and George had both benefitted.

He pointed to an apple stack cake. “These are the finest desserts you’ll ever taste.”

She lifted her face to his. “Better than the Oak Street Bakery?”

“Better than that.”

A breath pulsed between her shiny lips. “And who is the illustrious baker?”

“Jessica O’Malley. Well, it’s Jessica Parker now. She’s married to a former US Marshal. She’s also Nicole Darling’s sister. You’ll meet all the O’Malleys eventually.”

“I’d like that.”

“Which one would you like to sample? My treat.”

She shook her head in regret. “Oh, no. I’ve had my quota of sugar for the day, I’m afraid.” Nodding to the window through which a vendor could be seen, she said, “But I will take some roasted chestnuts.”

Shane kept his expression bland. “Whatever you’d prefer.”

When she’d made her purchase, he guided her out into the now sunny day, one of those rare winter days with vivid blue skies and cheerful sun reminiscent of warmer seasons. He bought her a bag of chestnuts, but declined to get one for himself.

She sampled the first bite and hummed with delight. She offered the bag to him.

“No, thanks.”

“Don’t you like them?”

“I wouldn’t know. Never tried one.”

She stopped abruptly, forcing the man behind them to sidestep quickly in order to avoid a collision. “Then how do you know you won’t like them?”

How could he explain his silly aversion to something that had taunted him during this most painful of seasons? Most days he’d had to make do with stale bread and moldy cheese or a thin broth with vegetables long past their prime. Walking past restaurants, he’d smell fresh-baked bread and grilled meat and his mouth would water. He began to dread Christmas because his lack was made even harder to bear. He’d see fathers out with their sons as they carried a fat goose home to their family. He’d see kids skipping down the street sucking on stick candy. Mothers and daughters sharing sacks of chestnuts on park benches.

He hadn’t longed for the food, but for the love, acceptance and security of two devoted parents. Siblings who squabbled over toys and played kickball in the yard. A clean, warm home to live in, a soft bed to sleep in every night.

A voice inside his head tried to convince him that he was no longer that ragged, defiant boy, but the feelings of inadequacy and bitterness drowned it out.