Blessed Vows (8 page)

“This isn't about your feelings.” Rachel couldn't believe she sounded so irritated—and she
was
irritated. Because even as she tossed the cupcake wrapper in the garbage, she wanted to whack it upside her sister's head—not hard, of course—to make her see. “This place is too big for me.”

“But you're happy here. You love the memories that are here. I'm not taking that from you. The right house for us will turn up.”

“This
is
the right house.” Couldn't anyone else see it? “This is a house for a family, and I don't have one of those.”

“One day you will.”

“Good, I would love nothing more, but one day isn't today. And today your family needs a larger place—this place. Look.” She gestured to the window where a movement caught her eyes. Westin and Sally were leaping from the deck. “He's happy here. Look at him. Plus, there's already a swing set and the roof is good for another fifteen years.”

One of these days, Amy was going to see reason. Until then, Rachel wasn't giving up her cause. She took a big bite and savored the rich fudge frosting and moist chocolate cake crumbling across her tongue. The secret whipped-cream filling was so sweet that it ought to make her forget her upset over the house and the fact that Jake was going to come breezing through that door anytime—

“Hey, do I rate enough to get one of those?”

His
voice. Jake's voice. The pleasant rumble of it wrapped around her soul and squeezed. Unfortunately her mouth was full of cupcake, and the instant she locked her gaze on the fine sight of him, she automatically gasped. She felt a few crumbs being sucked down
the wrong way and she fought hard not to start coughing. Too late. She covered her mouth and luckily the cough wasn't a big one. Tears filled her eyes and blurred her vision as she struggled to clear her throat.

Ben came to her rescue, amazing as always, as he strode straight to the table and stole two cupcakes. “Now this is what dessert tastes like in paradise. C'mon, take a bite.” He tossed one to Jake who caught it with one hand. “Hey, Rachel.”

She mumbled hello as she watched Jake catch the cupcake with one hand. Was it her imagination, or did he look more awesome than usual? His short dark hair was seriously windblown, and it seemed impossible that a man could look even better every time she saw him. And kinder, she added, when their gazes locked. “Did you guys have a good jump?”

“Yep, went up a couple a times. Good weather. Great views. I could see all the way to Yellowstone.”

It took no effort at all to imagine him falling fearlessly with a packed chute on his back, the airplane above and the earth below. His cheeks were wind-burned and his inner spirit glowed from the exhilaration. It was as if the layers had been peeled away and she could see the true soul of this man—fearless and stalwart and unfailing.

Her heart gave a little tumble. Not that she was falling for him or anything, but it was hard not to like him more and more. And how could she help it? She took
another bite of her cupcake, just to keep her jaw from sagging.

One brow hooked upward, as dashing as any silver-screen star's, Jake asked, “Did you bake these?”

Her mouth was full again, so she nodded, chewing fast and swallowing. “I've been known to dabble in the kitchen.”

“Pretty fancy.”

“Just the outside. Wait 'til you taste it.”

He rose to her challenge and took a huge bite. He rolled his eyes as a sign of ecstasy.

“My own secret recipe.” She couldn't help smiling wide. “I made two whole dozen, so have as many as you'd like. How about a plate to go with that?”

When he shook his head, she asked, “A napkin? A glass of chocolate milk?”

“I'm a fan of chocolate milk. Count me in,” he said around a mouthful.

“One tall glass, coming up.” She tossed him another smile before she made a U-turn toward the refrigerator. “How about you, Ben?”

He nodded as he took a big bite, his attention focused on dragging out a chair next to Amy. “Gonna sit, Jake?”

While Jake's pleasant baritone answered, and another chair scraped along the linoleum, Rachel plopped her half-eaten cupcake on a napkin and got to work. Glasses, plenty of chocolate syrup and cold milk. While she stirred each glass, she enjoyed the sounds of con
versation: Ben and Heath talking about the real estate market, and Amy asking Jake if Sally knew how to swim and could she come along with her and Westin on their planned jaunt to one of the county pools.

That would be good for Sally, Rachel thought as she gave the milk a final stir. But what about the uncle? What did Jake have planned for tomorrow? None of your business, Rache. Just serve the milk.

A firm hand settled on her shoulder, and it didn't startle her. Although she hadn't heard him approach, she felt the zing of his presence, and her pulse thudded loudly in her ears.

“That sure does look good. You are amazing, Rachel.”

“Me? Really? That seems like a pretty big compliment over chocolate milk.” Rachel tried to resist falling in like with him a little more. “Oh, you could charm the moon to the earth. I've heard chocolate milk is the cure for false flattery. You're in luck.” She handed him the closest glass. “Do you think you need two?”

“No, thanks. That wasn't false flattery. “His dimples flashed and made her knees weak. “I meant every word. You are amazing.”

He walked away, leaving her smiling. He thought she was amazing? Jake Hathaway, Mr. Perfect and Wonderful, liked her? She couldn't believe it. It was all she could do not to shout joyfully and that's when she noticed her reflection in the side of the toaster. She had chocolate smeared on her teeth.

Yeah, she was awesome all right. If she didn't stop embarrassing herself in front of Jake, they really might have a chance.

C
oncentrate on your work, Rache. Before you drop the potatoes. In the diner's warm kitchen, Rachel made sure Mr. Brisbane's Southwestern Special had plenty of extra hashed browns, just the way he liked it. Work was tough this morning because she could not get Jake out of her thoughts. And when she wasn't thinking about Jake, she was fighting off the icky feel of embarrassment.

How could a guy as cool as Jake think of her as anything more than his friend's little sister? She certainly didn't act the part of the sophisticated classy woman. If only she could be more like Paige.

“Hear that man of yours is back in town again,” Mr. Winkler commented as he made his way from the front door down the aisle.

“Uh, he's not my man.”

“Oh, pardon. My mistake.”

Mine, too. Rachel looked around at the diner. This wasn't how she pictured her life turning out, but she was content enough. Soon this place would be hers to run, and that was all right. Her dad had worked in this diner as a teenager and bought it on a risk when the owners were facing bankruptcy. There wasn't a lot of money to be made in a small-town diner, but her parents had done okay with good food, friendly service and hard work.

As she spotted Mr. Corey, another of their morning regulars, through the hand-off window and cracked two eggs—whites only due to his recent heart attack—on the grill, she could feel the memories of her dad standing right here, merrily calling out to the customers as he cooked. It was as if she could feel a little of that happiness, and it heartened her.

One day, she might find a man who could make her laugh, someone like her dad, someone strong and good and big enough to fill her world.

Mr. Winkler's sausages were perfect, browned and juicy, and she piled the links onto the plate, added toast and hit the bell. Leaving the plate beneath the warmer, she took a moment to slurp down another bracing swallow of coffee and, taking advantage of the lull, measured up pancake batter.

Jodi swept by to pin up an order on the wheel and grab Mr. Winkler's meal. “Hey, I got a request from a customer.”

What customer? She hadn't noticed anyone else coming in, but then she didn't have her eyes glued to the front door either. “You know I'm here to please. What do I need to cook up special?”

“You'll have to take that up with the customer. Can she come back?”

“Sure thing.” It had been a long time since she'd had someone talk to her in person. Probably someone on a special diet, which would be no problem at all. The door swung open and a little girl ambled in, squeezing her worn stuffed bunny in both arms. Sally. Did that mean Jake was here? But before she could think to look for him, she noticed the dark circles under the child's red, swollen eyes. Had she had a real tough night? “Sally, come on over here and give me a hug. Would that be okay?”

Sally nodded her head solemnly. She was stiff with hurt and fear—Rachel could feel it as she gave the girl a gentle hug, bunny and all. She added a deep prayer from her heart.

Help her, Father.
She ached to smooth some of the stray wisps that had already escaped her turquoise barrettes. “What can I get special for you, sweet girl?”

“P-pancakes with smiles on them. They t-taste better that way.”

“They sure do. I'll get to work on that right away.” She stirred Mr. Corey's eggs, then drew a chair over from the corner. “Come stand here and coach me, okay?”

A single nod was Sally's only answer. She still clutched her stuffed rabbit and didn't let go as she climbed up to stand on the chair.

Rachel remembered standing in the same spot, at her dad's elbow while he cooked and whistled show tunes. It was a dear tug she felt on her heart as she plated Mr. Corey's meal and got a good look at what had to be Jake and Sally's order ticket on the wheel, although she couldn't see Jake seated at any of the booths along the front window. Thank goodness.

He was probably in back at one of the tables, she figured, safely out of sight. Which was a real good thing, since he had a certain effect on her, and her embarrassment over last night—and her teeth—remained. She sure knew how to make a great impression on this man—not!

“Do you want a smiley sunshine pancake too?” Rachel snatched the tongs and added a half dozen sausage links onto the grill. As they sizzled, she gestured toward the jumbo-sized cookie cutter. “Go ahead and grab that for me.”

“'Kay.” Timidly, Sally freed the cutter from the nearby hook and held it by one of its rays. “I used to help my mommy all the time.”

“Then you're a seasoned cook's helper. Just what I need.” Rachel grabbed the pitcher of fresh buttermilk batter. “Go ahead and put a couple of 'em down. How many pancakes do you want?”

Sally bit her lip as she debated. “Three.”

“Then can you get two more cutters?”

Rachel kept an eye on Sally to make sure she didn't slip and scorch a fingertip while she poured out rounds of pancakes to fill Jake's Plentiful Pancake Combo and Sally's perfectly aligned sunshine smiles. “Can you tell me when those start to bubble?”

A tentative nod.

Well, at least she was doing better. Her rabbit had been sat on the edge of the counter, as if to keep a watch on the grill, too. The bell over the door jingled cheerily to announce more customers. The oven timer binged. After reminding Sally not to touch the grill, Rachel donned an oven mitt, stopped to turn the sausages and rescued the muffins, golden-topped and glazed with sugar. She popped the two dozen muffins onto the cooling rack.

“Um, bubbles.”

Rachel grabbed the spatula. Perfect timing. “Let's get those turned, okay? Want to hold the plate for me?”

Another nod. Sally held steady the white plate Rachel handed her and in a moment she'd flipped the pancakes, let them sizzle and slid an egg onto the hot grill. While the whites bubbled, she stacked the pancakes for Jake and spread them across the plate for Sally.

It was pleasant being here like this with a little girl. Maybe one day she'd have her children here, the way she and her brother and sisters had stayed here in the
mornings before school started. Wistful, Rachel tried not to pin so much on a future that hadn't happened yet, but it was hard.

“Hop down and come over here with me.” There were the ghosts of memories again, good and dear ones, following her along the counter where it took only a few seconds to add juicy blue huckleberries for eyes and a sweep of strawberry jam for a wide smile on each sunshine. “Do you like strawberries?”

“Yep.”

“Good, then we'll put them here, so each ray from the sun is a strawberry slice.”

“My mommy used the white stuff.”

“Whipped cream?”

“In the spray can.”

“Well, I've got some right here.”

There's a beautiful sight. Jake froze in the doorway, staring at the woman and child who were side by side. With their heads bent together, they didn't hear the swinging door sweep open, nor did Rachel notice that he was there. He didn't move a muscle as everything within him stilled.

Sunlight filtered through the open slat blinds and graced them with a soft golden haze that seemed like a sign from heaven. He'd have to be blind not to see the way Sally leaned close to Rachel, her little shoulders almost relaxed. Her grief seemed several shades less as she watched Rachel spray whipped cream on a bunch of pancakes.

“How about a nice big mustache on this one?”

“A big curly one,” the girl encouraged, leaning in closer and planting her hands on the counter. As Rachel swirled the spray can, Sally watched, enchanted.

Jake was enchanted, too, but for entirely different reasons. That strange calm seeped through him, deeper than his heart and into his soul. She's the one, he thought, seeing God's plan for his life as clearly as the sunshine through the window. Rachel's voice reassured him like a soft summer wind moving over him. A feeling he'd never known before.

“Let's make this one a girl. We'll give her curls. Okay?”

Sally nodded, more animated than he'd seen her since her mom's death. There was hope. He could feel it taking root within him. He'd asked God for a solution, for things to work out for Sally's sake, and He had led them here, to Rachel, who had a loving heart and a kind enough nature to nurture a hurting child back to life. To Rachel, who'd experienced the same loss herself as a kid.

I know what I need to do. Goose bumps shivered down Jake's spine as he knew with certainty what he was to do. Sally needed this woman, and marriage was the answer.

The bell above the door chimed, drawing Rachel's attention. “Oh! Goodness. I've got to get back to the grill. Hold on, just a sec, Sally.” Rachel set down the
whipped cream can and leaped to save the food sizzling to a crisp. She was still so wrapped up she didn't see him.

Was she humming? He couldn't quite get the tune, but her smile was dazzling as she called out a greeting to whoever had entered, one of the regulars, as she deftly filled his order.

“I'll get your usual right on, Jim!” she called as she hit the bell. “Jodi, I'll take Sally back to her ta—”

She'd spotted him, and he felt the effects of her beautiful smile. “—table. Hi, Jake. I'll get his order, Jodi.”

“No, I'll get it,” he insisted and held out his hand. “C'mon, Sal. Let's let Rachel get back to work because we don't want the cook mad at us. Especially one so lovely.”

She blushed prettily. “It's always good to compliment the cook. Now, go, out of my kitchen before I burn Jim's sausages.” She reached for a mixing bowl and started stirring.

He took the image of her standing there, haloed in light, with him.

 

So far so good, Rachel thought as she plated the morning's special and added a side of hashed browns. Her hand kept shaking as she shoved the plate next to the other ready orders on the window ledge. Jake's words still affected her. He thought she was lovely?

The back door blew open and Paige charged in, briefcase slung over her shoulder, her arms full of ledgers.
“I'm sorry I'm so late. It's been one disaster after another.”

“That's not fair. It's only seven in the morning.”

“Exactly. I fear what the rest of the day is gonna bring.” Paige marched through and disappeared down the short hallway. There was a thud as all the books she carried landed on the desk.

Knowing Paige hadn't had a chance to eat yet, Rachel plated her last order, a number seven for the town deputy, Frank, and carried it out to him. He was sitting near the door, the sports section of the morning paper on the table in front of him. As she slid his plate on the table, she glanced down the aisle, but no sign of Jake and Sally. They had to be seated around the corner. “How are you this morning, Frank?”

“No real complaints. As long as I can get another refill.”

“You've got it.” She bounded to the beverage station, where a fresh pot of coffee had just finished brewing. She grabbed the carafe and topped off Frank's cup. Taking advantage of the lull, she went in search of Paige in the office by going the long way around. Sure enough, she spied Jake and Sally in the back, next to the last window that looked out over the patio.

“Heard you're the next one in your family that's lookin' to marry.” Mr. Winkler called out down the aisle. “Is that true?”

Did he have to say it so loudly? She felt bad the in
stant she thought that. Mr. Winkler wore hearing aids, so it wasn't his fault. But still. All the customers turned with interest. She felt Jake's piercing stare above all the others. Did she really want Mr. Amazing to know about her going-nowhere romantic life?

No way. She spun on her heel and backtracked to Mr. Winkler's table. “You should know better than to listen to rumors.”

The kindly man brushed back his silver hair, as if to straighten himself up a bit. “Rumors? Why, missy, we've got a pool goin' as to how long it'll be before you got a second date with that fella.”

Was it her imagination or could she feel everyone straining to hear her answer? She glanced around and Frank gave her a thumbs-up—apparently he was interested in her answer. Her cousin Kendra, across the aisle with her husband Cameron, didn't even bother to pretend she wasn't listening, and, worst of all, Jake was watching her over the rim of his coffee cup.

Her chest tightened as if an enormous boa constrictor had wrapped around her when she wasn't looking and was crushing her ribs. “No comment.”

Embarrassed again, she thought as she took a fortifying deep breath and headed up to his table. Best to pretend nothing had happened, she thought. It was the only way she could face Jake.

He was smirking when she approached and set down his cup for her to refill it. “How's it going?”

“The usual torture and embarrassment, nothing new.” She concentrated on pouring the coffee without disaster. “How were the pancakes, Sally?”

Sally looked up from a coloring book she must have brought down from the upstairs apartment. “I liked the blue eyes.”

“Those were huckleberries. A local wild blueberry,” she explained when Jake quirked his brow. “And that was our homemade strawberry jelly, by the way. Can I get you two anything else? Paige just came from the bakery. We've got fresh cinnamon rolls.”

“I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but I want one of those.”

“Coming right up. How did you two sleep last night?”

“It's a nice set-up you have up there.” Jake tried to swallow the panic bubbling up from his guts. He'd faced ambushes, doomed rescue missions and prisoner-of-war camps and never had he felt this sudden urge to run. He was a man who faced live fire regularly and he would not flee from this. “Sally and I owe you dinner for a change. How about tonight?”

“Sorry, I'm working the dinner shift.”

“Then we'll figure something out.” He watched her walk away, an average woman in jeans and a blue T-shirt, with a ruffled apron tied at her waist, but somehow there wasn't anything average about Rachel McKaslin. Her rich chestnut hair was tied back at her nape, and her
leggy gait was easy and relaxed. As she pushed through the swinging door, he heard the low notes of a song. She was humming.