Janet Tronstad - Silent Night in Dry Creek

“If you ever get down around Idaho Falls, be sure and give me a call,” he found himself saying. “We could maybe have dinner or—”

She turned to look at him indignantly. “You don’t have to ask me out. Or follow me. Or anything.”

“Okay, well—” Wade knew when to step away from the firing line.

“Thanks anyway,” Jasmine said, none too politely. “It was kind of you to offer.”

It was crazy of him to offer, Wade figured. But he’d done it anyway. He supposed it was just because, back in the kitchen, he’d felt some emotion stirring. It was probably all that talk reminding him he’d once been the angel. He’d put that experience completely out of his mind. Who wanted to remember the time they’d mortified themselves in front of everyone they knew? But maybe some vestige of it had clung to his soul anyway.

He pulled the car to a halt in front of the Walls’ house. The windows were decorated with Christmas lights and tall wooden candy canes lined the path up to the front door. Light and laughter spilled out the windows.

Even when he’d been in the pageant, he’d dreaded Christmas. Wade wondered if he was ever going to be on the right side of the holiday. He glanced over at Jasmine. He wondered if she knew she had a frown on her face as she marched up the sidewalk to the house. Then he realized he had one, too.

At times like this he wished he had someone to arrest.

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