Jill Shalvis - Small Town Christmas

A pair of golden eyes stared back.

He let go of the breath he’d been holding. It was a cat, not a baby. Thank goodness. He knew how to handle a cat. A baby would have scared him silly.

“What’re you doing in there with Jesus?” he said as he scooped up the animal and cradled it against his chest. It sank its claws into the fabric of his combat uniform and ducked its head under his chin.

It started to purr, its body shaking with the effort.

He looked down at the animal. The markings on its face weren’t quite symmetrical-a little patch of brown fur by its white nose made its face look dirty. The cat stared back at him as if it could see things beyond Matt’s vision.

Then it let go of its claws and settled down into his big hands as if it believed it had found a permanent home.

Stupid cat. It should know better than to settle on him. He didn’t have a permanent home. He was as much a stray as the animal in his hands.

He didn’t need a cat right now.

He just needed to deliver Nick’s present-the last one he’d bought for his grandmother. And once Matt finished that errand, he could think about the future-preferably without any animals in it.

Annie Roberts sang the closing lyrics to “Watchman, Tell Us of the Night,” her solo scheduled for tomorrow night’s Christmas Eve service. Dale Pontius, the Christ Church choir director, sat in the back pew listening and nodding his head.

Pride rushed through her. She had a very good singing voice, and she loved this particular carol. She was looking forward to singing it for everyone at tomorrow night’s services. Singing on Christmas Eve was one of Annie’s greatest joys. She’d been singing in the Christ Church choir since she’d returned home from college, almost fifteen years before.

Just as the closing notes of the guitar accompaniment faded, a soldier in fatigues with a big pack on his back entered the sanctuary through the front doors. He strolled down the center aisle a few steps, the sound of his boot heels echoing. He stared up at the choir and Annie in particular.

He had forgotten to take off his dark beret, and a shadow of day-old beard colored his cheeks. He looked hard and worn around the edges.

“Who the dickens are you?” Dale said from his place in the back pew.

The soldier looked over one broad shoulder. “I’m Staff Sergeant Matt Jasper, sir,” he said in a deep voice. “I was wondering if anyone had lost a cat. And also I need some directions.”

It was only then that Annie noticed the ball of orange, white, and brown fur resting in Sergeant Jasper’s hands.

“Good heavens, get that mangy thing out of here. I’m allergic.” Dale stood up and gestured toward the door.

Millie Polk, standing behind Annie in the alto section whispered, sotto voce , “Maybe he’ll have a sneezing fit, and we’ll all get to go home to our gift wrapping and cooking.”

This elicited several chortles of laughter from the vicinity of the sopranos. Annie loved choir practice, but she had to admit that Dale was a real taskmaster this time of year. And, like Millie Polk, she had a long list of Christmas errands she needed to get done before tomorrow afternoon.

“You think a cat in this sanctuary is funny?” Dale said, turning toward the soprano section. “Did ya’ll have any idea how lacking your performance of the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ was this evening? There is nothing funny about this situation.”

Dale turned toward the soldier. “I am very grateful for your service to the country, but this is a closed rehearsal. I would appreciate it if you would leave and take the cat with you.”

It was almost comical the way Dale managed to stare down his nose while simultaneously looking up at the sergeant holding the kitten. The situation was sort of like a Chihuahua playing alpha dog to an adorable collie.

Matt Jasper wasn’t intimidated by Dale though. He simply stared down at the choir director out of a pair of dark, almost black eyes. His eyebrows waggled. “Sorry to bust up your choir practice, sir, but I found this cat in your manger. If I hadn’t picked it up, it probably would have broken your baby Jesus. So I figure the cat’s yours. I need to get going. I’ve got an errand to run, and I-”

“Well, it’s not my cat.” Dale turned to the choir. “Did any of you bring your cat to choir practice?” There was no mistaking the scorn in Dale’s voice.

The choir got really quiet. Nobody liked it when Dale lost his temper.

“See? The cat doesn’t belong to anyone.” Dale gazed at the bundle of fur in the soldier’s hands and sniffed. “It’s probably a stray. Why don’t you leave it outside and get on with your errand?”

“He can’t do that,” Annie said, and then immediately regretted her words. She did not want a cat, no matter how lonely she felt sometimes.

On the other hand, she wasn’t going to stand by and let Dale Pontius and Sergeant Jasper drop a stray in the churchyard and walk away. That was inhumane.

Dale turned toward Annie, his displeasure evident in his scowl. Dale could be a tyrant. She should keep her mouth shut. But for some reason, the little bundle of fur in the big soldier’s hands made her brave. “It’s cold outside. It’s supposed to rain.”

She pulled her gaze away from Dale and gave the soldier the stink eye. She wasn’t intimidated by that uniform or his broad shoulders. He needed to know that she frowned on people leaving stray cats in the neighborhood.

Jasper’s full mouth twitched a little at the corner. “Ma’am,” he said, “you can rest easy. I’m not going to leave it outside to wander. I’d like to find it a good home.” His gaze never wavered. His eyes were deep and dark and sad, like a puppy dog’s eyes.

She didn’t need a puppy either.

The cat issued a big, loud meow that reverberated in the empty sanctuary. The church’s amazing acoustic qualities magnified the meow to monumental proportions.

“Get that thing out of here.” Dale was working himself into a tizzy.

“Uh, look,” the soldier said, “can anyone here tell me where I might find Ruth Clausen? I went to what I thought was her address, but the house is all boarded up.”

The choir shifted uneasily. “Ruth’s in a nursing home,” Annie said.

The soldier’s thick eyebrows almost met in the middle when he frowned. “In a nursing home?”

“Yes, she’s very old and quite ill,” Dale said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a choir practice to get on with.” Dale strode past the man in the aisle and back to the front of the church.

“That was very nice, Annie, Clay.” Dale turned toward Clay Rhodes, the choir’s main instrumentalist. “I’d like one more run-through on the Handel.”

Annie resumed her place with the altos, and Clay put his guitar in its stand and took his place at the organ. He flipped through a few pages of music and began the opening chords of the “Hallelujah Chorus.”

Annie sang her part and watched as the cat-packing soldier ignored Dale’s request and took a seat in the back pew. Halfway through the choir’s performance, Sergeant Jasper must have remembered that he was in a church, because he finally took off his beret. His hair was salt-and-pepper and cut military short.

For some reason, Annie couldn’t keep her eyes off him. She wondered if he might have been one of Nick’s friends.

It seemed likely, since he’d come in here asking after Ruth, Nick’s grandmother. She didn’t want to be the one to tell him that he’d come on a fool’s errand.

Matt settled back in the pew and listened to the music. This little town was way in the boonies, but the choir sounded pretty good. Not that he was a student of religious Christmas music. Matt had never been to church on Christmas. In fact, he’d pretty much never been to church in his life.