Red Hot Christmas by Jill Sanders Page A

to say.
     
    He jumped in, trying to lighten the mood. “So, do you have family around here?” He instantly regretted it when she sighed and looked off into the distance.
     
    “Yeah. My mom is in Eugene. My dad... isn't.”
     
    “Oh?” He watched her nibble on some fries, and could tell she was deep in thought. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”
     
    “She turned to him and tilted her head as she looked at him. “My father is in a federal prison in Portland. He's been there since I was ten. My mother doesn't speak to me, only calls when I'm not home to leave a message, begging me to rethink the testimony I have that put him there. You would think that she would have chosen to listen to her daughter once in the last seventeen years, but instead she sticks by him and his trail of lies.”
     
    “What happened?” He finished his burger half and reached in for a handful of fries, which were a little cold at this point, but still delicious.
     
    “My father was part of a group of activists. He was caught with some plans which linked him to the murder of a twenty-four year old security guard at the nuclear power plant in Kalama, Washington. I'm the one that called the hotline. I'm the one that turned my father in.” She turned to him, and he could see the tears in her blue eyes, turning them  a lighter shade. “I watched him shoot the man in the face. He just pulled the gun out of his coat and shot him like it was nothing. Then he took his nine-year-old daughter out for bubblegum ice cream.” She turned back towards the water. “That weekend was my birthday, and I got to spend an extra hour watching cartoons. But instead I switched the television to the news channel. I saw the report, and they had a phone number at the bottom of the screen. I used my Mickey Mouse coloring book and my new crayons to write it down. Then later that day, I sneaked into the guest room and called it. At first they thought I was just some kid who'd dialed the wrong number.” She laughed. “They kept hanging up on me. But by the third call, I finally blurted out that my daddy shot the man with curly blond hair in the face. That got their attention, since they hadn't released any details on how he'd died, other than he'd been shot. The police showed up an hour later, and I was taken into protective custody.”
     
    “Amber, I don't know what to say.” He didn't. He'd thought he was going through some rough stuff, but to be all alone in the world and to feel the betrayal that she’d felt, he couldn't imagine it.
     
    She looked at him and smiled. “Say that you won't tell a soul. I've moved around, running from it since that day. My mother pretty much left me alone the rest of my childhood. No more birthday parties, no more crayons, nothing. When I was seventeen I moved out, and I haven't seen her since. You were very lucky to have your grandparents. I can see in your grandmother's eyes that she would do anything for you.”
     
    He smiled. “Yeah, she would.”
     
    “Luke, I'm sorry your grandmother is sick. I can only imagine how much she means to you.”
     
    “You know what? We're a bunch of depressing people. Here we are sitting on a dock on a beautiful day, eating wonderful food, and all we can do is talk about sad and depressing things.” He stood abruptly and held out his hand for hers. “I feel like having a piece of that chocolate pie.” She set the almost empty container of fries down and took his hand. When he pulled her up, he pulled her close. “Do you still have some time on your lunch break?”
     
    She looked down at her watch. “Fifteen minutes left.”
     
    “Perfect. But not enough time to go back to your place, so what do you say to me buying you a big piece at the restaurant?”
     
    “I'd say make it an apple pie and add a scoop of ice cream and you have yourself a deal.”
     
    “Mmm, that sounds even better.” He picked up the container of fries and tossed them out for the birds,