Quinn's Christmas Wish Read Free

Quinn, and a man stood in front of a large two-story house. Sadness spread over him. It was a unique house, not one he’d forget. It was the same house captured on the wall of the Town Hall…the memorial wall, displaying houses destroyed by the flood.
    That explained why she was alone. Her husband must have perished in the flood. He shook his head, gripped by the sorrow so many people had been forced to endure.
    Slim pieces of kindling lay off to the side of the hearth and Samuel began constructing the tinder into the makings of a fire. He struck the match and flames danced over the wood kindling. Soon the fire crackled to life. After lighting a few more lanterns, he proceeded to the wood stove in the kitchen where he lifted the heavy cast iron lid and started another fire.
    She hadn’t returned from the room yet, so he removed his heavy jacket and placed it on the coat rack beside the door.
    No sooner had he done so when the boy’s bedroom door opened and she appeared, gently shutting it as quietly as possible. She looked toward the burning fire and the crackles coming from her wood-cook stove.
    “I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Campton.” She smiled, once again fiddling with her apron.
    “Please, it’s Samuel.” He smiled back.
    “Could I offer you some coffee or perhaps a cup of tea?” she queried.
    He’d hoped she would ask. It had been long time since he had the chance to be in the company of such a striking woman. Amanda wasn’t just beautiful and genuine, but also caring.
    “A cup of coffee would be mighty fine,” he answered.
    “Great.” She turned her back to him and proceeded to make coffee, placing the pot on the stove.
    “Have a seat Mr…umm, Samuel.” She motioned to the sitting room.
    “Thank you. Did you get your boy settled?”
    “Yes,” she answered, letting out a deep breath. “He should sleep through the night.”
    “I may be stepping over the boundaries, Ma’am, but what is wrong with him?”
    She followed him into the sitting room, taking a chair beside him. “Now it’s my turn. Please call me Amanda.”
    He nodded in response.
    “Quinn has been to a few medical doctors, but none of them have been able to say for certain what the problem is. For the most part, he has seizures. Medication may help, but I’ve been avoiding that option.”
    “How long has this been taking place?” Samuel asked softly.
    Amanda looked over at the family photo on the mantel. He could see her swallow hard before she answered. “They began not long after the flood…and my husband’s death.”
    He reached over and placed his hand on hers. The brief contact of her flesh against his caused him to hesitate before he could speak. His heart thumped and a flush of heat washed over him. He’d been alone too long.
    “I’m sorry, Amanda. I don’t know my manners. I shouldn’t be asking you these questions.”
    He removed his hand and her gaze sought his. “I appreciate the company, Samuel, and I do find that talking about it helps.” She got up and wandered to the cupboard and removed two cups for the coffee.
    Samuel got up and placed more wood on the fire, while Amanda set the cups and saucers on the serving table.
    “I haven’t seen you in town before, but Mrs. Smith said she encountered you in the Town Hall on a few occasions. How long have you been in Bandit Creek?”
    He returned to his seat. “Since last spring.”
    “You’ve been here that long, but yet nobody has seen you other than Betty Smith?”
    “I don’t come into town often. I make trips into Missoula more frequently than visiting Bandit Creek.”
    “That’s a long journey.” She smiled, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
    “Odd town this Bandit Creek.” He shook his head and taking a sip of the coffee.
    “The flood caused all that,” Amanda replied weakly.
    “Sorry, this is a depressing subject, isn’t it?”
    “My fault. I’m not being a very good hostess and your personal business isn’t