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.
Josie’s caring gestures confused Clint. She was a beautiful woman, but a bit overbearing and brusque. He remembered the glow of pleasure that permeated Frank’s face whenever he spoke about Josie and her career as a pharmacist. And then Frank’s disappointment when she’d canceled numerous trips home because she was too busy working. Over the years, her absence had hurt Frank and Viola, though they’d never admitted it out loud. Of course, Josie lived in Vegas, a ten-hour drive one way. But since Viola had died, Josie had been coming around more often. At least this year Frank wouldn’t be alone for Christmas.
“Frank, we have a learn-to-read program at the library downtown,” Clint said. “I volunteer there almost every Thursday night. They’re a great support group, but if you don’t like that option, I can come here to your house in the evenings. I’d like to help you learn to read.”
Frank stared at the dingy wall, his mouth taut. “I’m afraid I’m too old to learn, Ranger. It’s too late for me.”
Clint snorted. “No, it’s not. It’s never too late to learn anything. Not if you really try. And stop calling me ranger. We’re good friends and you know my name.”
Clint tried to sound positive, while avoiding Josie’s glare. No doubt she was in shock, finding out the truth like this. Clint had felt the same way when he’d learned his new bride couldn’t read. Having grown up in the poverty of a coal-mining community, Karen had been raised by an abusive stepfather. She’d been almost twenty-three years old before Clint had taught her to read. But even then, she’d never overcome the stigma. Depression had haunted her most of her life. Now, Clint worked at the local library in the learn-to-read program to honor Karen’s memory. Because he’d loved her.
Because he’d failed to save her life.
“My brain doesn’t work good like it used to,” Frank said.
“Your brain works fine, and I’ll prove it to you.” Clint sat across from Frank and met the old man’s gaze with a wide smile. “If you’ll agree to participate in a reading program for just two months, I’ll make the tree permit issue go away. In fact, you and I will deliver your trees to the civic center and hand them out to the widows tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you up at 8:00 a.m. But you’d need to be in the reading program for at least eight weeks. Do we have a deal?” He thrust out his hand.
For several moments, Frank studied his face, as though thinking things over. “Do I have any other choice?”
Clint licked his bottom lip, not wanting to be too forceful. He had no idea what he’d do if Frank refused his offer. He’d probably let the issue drop and still give the trees away to the widows. He certainly wasn’t going to call Officer Tim back to arrest the man. But learning to read would take time. It also could make such a difference in Frank’s life. It could open an entire world. And Clint wanted so much to help.
To redeem himself for failing Karen.
“Everyone has a choice, Frank. Even you,” he said.
“Are there other people that can’t read in the program at the library?”
“Yes, two. Both are members of our congregation. So you already know them. And I’ll bet they’d be happy to see you there, too.”
Frank paused for several moments, as though thinking this over. Finally, he lifted his hand and they shook on it. “All right, I may not be able to read, but I’m no coward. I’ll go to the library.”
A whoosh of air escaped Josie’s lungs. “While I’m here for the holidays, I can help, too. And you’re the bravest man I know, Gramps.”
“I agree,” Clint said.
“So what now?”
Clint stood and turned toward the door, pasting a generous smile on his face. “Now we go to work. I’ll see you in the morning, and then again at the library at seven o’clock next Thursday night.”
Josie nodded, going through the motions of listening. Her vacant look indicated she wished Clint would leave now. And he was ready and willing to oblige her.
Reaching for the doorknob, he paused long enough to bid them farewell. “Have a good evening. And merry Christmas!”
They didn’t respond. A stunned silence filled the air with gloom. Josie stood looking at him like an ice queen, her blue eyes filled with doubt and some other emotion Clint couldn’t quite fathom.
Fear, perhaps?
Clint didn’t ask. As he stepped outside, the frigid air embraced him. It was still early, but darkness mantled the town. Christmas lights gleamed along the neighbor’s houses across the street. Frost formed patterns of lace on the windshield of his truck. He climbed inside and fired up the engine before switching on the defroster. He decided it was quite a bit warmer out here than in Josie’s frigid, glowering presence.
He hadn’t meant to upset the pretty pharmacist, but he had. And for some reason, that bothered Clint intensely.
Two days later, Josie stood with her shopping cart at the back of the only grocery store along Main Street. The place also served as a hardware store. Christmas songs blared over the loudspeaker, but she didn’t hum along. The scent of freshly popped corn filled the air, along with the happy chatter of shoppers. In spite of all this, it still didn’t feel like Christmas. Not to her. Not with Gramps in such a sour mood.
Looking down at her shopping cart, she studied the boxes of colored Christmas lights she’d selected. No matter what Gramps said, she was determined to hang them on his house. After what had happened with the ranger, he needed cheering up.
So did she.
Turning, she perused two fake Christmas trees. The pictures on the outside of the cardboard boxes were quite small and difficult to make out. A Douglas fir covered in heavy white flocking, and a spindly spruce. Both were poor imitations of natural Christmas trees. She could take one home and figure out how to assemble it, she had no doubt. But Gramps wouldn’t like either tree in his living room. And she couldn’t blame him. He’d had a real tree every year of his life and would settle for nothing less.
“You’re Frank’s granddaughter, aren’t you?”
Josie turned. An elderly woman with cottony white hair, too much facial powder, and a merry dimple in each plump cheek smiled up at her.
“Yes, I am.”
The lady’s grin widened as she propped one hand against her thick waist. “I knew it. I’m Thelma Milton, one of Frank’s friends down at the civic center. You and I have met a couple of times, but you probably don’t remember me. I knew your grandma well.”
“Yes, of course I remember. You were at Grandma’s funeral.”
“That’s right. I was sorry to hear about your breakup with your last fiancé.”
Josie