Chapter 12 #2
We walk side by side up the driveway silently, taking in all the decorations on the front of the property.
Two mismatched reindeer—from the Dobbs and Hawthorne lawns, the elves from the town square, and, when we reach the porch, it’s there.
Off to the side of the front door there’s a roughly hewn feeding trough made of weathered barn wood.
Inside the manger—the plastic baby Jesus.
“Welp, we know the thefts are all connected now,” Jesse says.
My mind whirs. Why? What’s the motive here? Nothing’s hidden. Everything that was stolen is out on display in broad daylight.
I glance over at Jesse before he lifts his hand to knock and it’s obvious he’s asking himself the same line of questions.
Jesse knocks. There’s shuffling inside and then a woman’s voice. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Jesse, ma’am. Jesse Heinz with the Bordeaux PD.”
“Jesse?” she says as she opens the door.
Her sweater is soft with wear, sleeves stretched as she cocoons it around herself—not merely fending off the chill. Her eyes flick to me—guarded, weary.
“I’m Alex,” I say. “His partner.”
Jesse flashes his badge. I fish in my coat pocket and show mine.
“Nice to meet you,” Widow Simms says to me. “What can I do for you two? I already donated to the Police Athletic League this summer …” Her voice trails off. “Before Mitch passed.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jesse says, that familiar, sincere warmth in his eyes. “How are you holding up?”
I suppress a smile. He’s so thoughtful. Here we are on a weekend morning, following a lead on multiple thefts, and Jesse has the decency to acknowledge her heartbreak. Not only that, it’s obvious he’s ready to do something for her—regardless of her guilt or innocence.
I’m not in love. It’s too soon. But whatever this is—this warmth that floods me, a pride in his goodness that’s as strong as if it were my own—these overwhelming feelings are the seeds of something deep, something bigger than anything I’ve ever felt before.
“We’re here to ask you about the decorations,” I say, pulling my thoughts away from Jesse to the task at hand.
Mrs. Simms’ eyes scan her yard, landing on the baby Jesus. “All those decorations.” She sighs. “They kept showing up over the past few weeks.” A soft smile settles on her otherwise weary face. “It's just like an angel knew I needed a little extra this year.”
I glance at Jesse. He believes her. I do too.
“They’re stolen,” Jesse says plainly. “Or at the very least, borrowed without asking permission.” He points at the reindeer. “Those two came out of the yards of townspeople. One is from the Dobbs family’s yard.”
“I know of them,” Mrs. Simms says. “I don’t get into town much unless I’m running an errand.
I’m kind of a homebody. That was fine when Mitch was here.
He drove a truck for a living, so he’d be gone for a stretch, then home for a bit.
I got used to being settled out here—tending my garden in the summer, sitting by the fire reading in the colder months.
Anyway, I guess I turned into a bit of a hermit. ” Her grief seeps into her expression.
I’m not always a hugger, but at the look in Mrs. Simms’ eyes, my chest tightens and I resist the instinct pulling me to draw her into my arms so she doesn’t feel so alone.
Jesse nods, professionally. He’s in police officer mode now. “Those elves …” He points to the four in her yard. “Came from the town square. And these …” He points to the wreath and lights. “Came from a few other homes.”
Mrs. Simms looks even more heartbroken. “And this,” Jesse presses on. “Baby Jesus came from the nativity out front of First Lutheran.”
“I had no idea,” Mrs. Simms says. “I don't get into town much. And when I do, well … I've been preoccupied ever since Mitch passed." Her eyes fill with moisture this time at the mention of her husband.
My heart twists in my chest. I can’t even look at Jesse or I’ll burst into empathetic tears.
Jesse’s response is soft-spoken, filled with compassion.
“You deserved some kindness. Whoever did this was trying to bless you in a season of unthinkable hardship. I’m sorry the circumstances of their gifting were muddied with illegalities.
It seems their heart was in the right place.
” He pauses and looks her in the eyes. “We all should have done a better job—as a community—of checking in on you and making sure you were provided for after Mitch passed.”
“Well, like I say, we kept to ourselves for the most part. I wouldn’t expect to be on anyone’s mind.”
“Except, you obviously are,” I point out, gesturing to the myriad of mismatched decorations scattered across the property.
“You can take them back to their rightful owners,” she says, a wistfulness to her voice.
“One step at a time,” Jesse says. “When was the last time you had a new decoration show up?”
“Two nights ago, there was a knock at the door. When I peeked out the keyhole, no one was there. I used to get a bit nervous, seeing as I’m out here all alone. But since my angel kept showing up, I’ve been braver about opening the door to the knocks.”
“They always knock?”
“Almost always. It’s like a little game we play.
They knock. I open. They’re nowhere to be found, but there’s something new each time.
Once it was a big plate of gingerbread cookies, piled high.
There was no way I could have finished them all myself, so I ended up showering and taking a few to each of my neighbors.
It was the first time I had seen any of them in months.
That was a gift in itself. It’s funny how we get into our ruts—living only yards away from one another, and yet we come and go as if no one else exists.
All it took was a plate of cookies to break through that barrier. ”
The cookies. I look at Jesse and he smiles and nods.
“Anyway,” Mrs. Simms says. “The other night it was a few bags from Kroger’s. There was a chopped salad, some deli cranberry sauce and a rotisserie. No decorations, just a meal.”
“You really do have an angel,” I say with a soft smile.
“That’s what I kept calling them.”
“If it’s alright with you,” Jesse says. “Officer Keller and I will do a stakeout of sorts here on your street tonight. We need to find out who’s responsible for all this.
Despite their motives, this person has been breaking the law.
I doubt they robbed the Kroger, but the rest of this was all stolen. ”
“Even the cookies?”
She had to ask.
Jesse nods solemnly. “From Oh! Sugar.”
Mrs. Simms’ expression falls.
“Again,” Jesse adds. “That doesn’t diminish the heart behind these gifts. Obviously someone cares deeply for you and sees what you’ve been going through.”
“Still my angel,” Mrs. Simms says.
“Still your angel,” I assure her.
Jesse and I say our goodbyes, telling Mrs. Simms we’ll be back here, parked a few lots away, cloaked in the darkness tonight, trying to catch the culprit if they show up.
It’s a long shot since we don’t know if they’ll come again or when.
But we’re on the trail of the clues now and we’re as close as we’ll get to catching this person—or people.
I’m still not ruling out the teen boys, especially now that we see the motive isn’t malicious.
On the drive back into town, I tell Jesse, “I’m supposed to be baking Christmas cookies with Shannon and Lexi and the rest of the girls while the guys are in Columbus doing their holiday shopping.”
“Sounds cozy,” Jesse says, smiling over at me. “I was going to ask you to lunch.”
I feel like telling him he still can, but there’s something resigned in his tone that keeps me from going there.
“I’ll radio the situation in to Deputy Nolan when I get home,” Jesse says. “What time should I pick you up for dinner and a stakeout?”
He wags his brows playfully and I laugh.
“How many times have you used that line on a girl?”
It’s meant to be a joke, but something in me twists a little thinking of Jesse pursuing other women in his past. It’s irrational. I had a serious boyfriend. We were engaged. Our plans to stay together long term seemed rock solid. Jesse’s never even mentioned having had a girlfriend.
“Only you, Officer Keller,” he says softly. “Alex. Only you.” His voice is low enough that I feel it more than I hear it.
The air is heavy again. A weighted blanket of expectations, hope and uncertainty. It’s obvious we have feelings for one another. I’m not blind. The way Jesse is looking at me right now says he feels it too.
Breadcrumbs. I practically hear Memaw’s voice encouraging me to be patient.
“I’ll bring dinner,” Jesse says, puncturing the silence. “And I’ll come by around four forty-five before the sun starts to dip. We need to be there before it’s dark.”
“I’ll see you tonight, then,” I say, pulling up in front of his house.
“Bring cookies,” he says with a wink. And then he hops out of my car and heads toward his home.
A groan leaves me as soon as his front door shuts behind him. I don’t know how much longer I can dance around my feelings for Jesse without being the one to push things further. And there’s nothing wrong with a woman making her move, but something in me longs for him to be the one.
So, for now, I’ll wait.