Blessed Vows (9 page)

A second date, huh? Well, maybe he'd give her one to remember. He checked his watch.
After
he helped Ben move their stuff out of their apartment.

 

Marriage. It wasn't something Jake had given a lot of thought to before this. Now it was all he could think about.

The image of Sally and Rachel side by side in the diner's kitchen, cradled in gentle sunlight, remained in his mind's eye like a sign from above that would not fade. As did the desperate look on Sally's sweet face when he'd left her with Ben's sister Amy and the feel of undisguised need as she'd clung to his hand as if to a life preserver. Yeah, he was giving the idea of marriage some serious thought.

“What's with you?” Ben asked from the downside of a huge bedroom-cabinet thingy. “Staring off in space, that's not normal. What are you doing, thinking of some pretty woman?”

How did a tough, fearless soldier admit to that? “Just wondering how you did it, man.”

“Did what?”

“Tie the knot.”

“That was the easiest part. Okay, I'm ready. Let's lift on three.” Ben counted off and they heaved the heavy
armoire around the corner of the bedroom door. “Hold it. We're gonna take out the wallboard.”

Jake froze, holding his share of the load. “This isn't as heavy as that log we had to pack around during Indoc.”

“What did that thing weigh, a thousand pounds? That doesn't mean it isn't still heavy, though. Okay, let's shimmy a little to the left.”

“You got it.” Jake gritted his teeth, maneuvering around the tight corner and into the relatively open area of the living room. “How's that injured leg holding up? Want me to take the lead?”

“My leg's sore, but a few more weeks and I'll be back in fighting shape.” Ben blew out a breath as they lurched through the threshold, slowing down to clear the door frame, and then they were in the clear. The moving truck, with the lift down, was waiting.

“Being a married man must agree with you since that bullet wound's healed up just fine.”

“I'm determined to get back to the front with you and the rest of our squad.” There was a clatter as Ben backed onto the metal floor. The lift groaned beneath them.

“Ready?” Jake asked. His back complained, his knees smarted, but they let the enormous cabinet down without any smashed fingers or toes. “What does your new wife think about your heading right back overseas?”

“She understands that I'm TDY most of the time. It's just the job.”

Jake knew some women started out feeling that way. They liked the idea of being supportive of their Special Forces husbands, but the reality was often different than they imagined. It was one thing to take care of all the demands of a home and family, another to deal with car problems and military paperwork that inevitably came up, not to mention the long stretches of lonely evenings and weekends. “She'll be all right handling everything on her own?”

“Are you kidding? Cadence won Olympic gold. If she can't handle it, then it can't be done. Not that I want to leave her for so long, but I know she'll be fine.”

“You have a lot of belief in her.”

“I married her, didn't I?” With a grin, Ben blushed, turning away to hop off the lift.

Love. It seemed like a risky state of being, more dangerous than tiptoeing through land-mined territory or fast-roping from a helicopter under fire. Those things he'd done and still did without pause. But love and feelings and opening his heart—well, it was a lot to consider.

Jake waited until the lift was done beeping and in place before he gave the armoire a shove. “I got this. You want to make sure there isn't anything else Cadence wants to fit inside this truck?”

“That would be an impossible mission, bud.” Ben laughed. “I'll go check with my wife.”

There was no mistaking the dip of emotion on that
final word,
wife,
and Jake figured that was a fine thing. He put some shoulder into the cabinet and shoved.

“Hey,” Ben called from the sidewalk. “Why are you on the subject all of the sudden? Have you met someone?”

“You could say that.” Jake gave a final Herculean push and the armoire skidded into place. Keeping his back turned, so his buddy wouldn't guess, he reached for a cord to tie down the furniture.

“Someone you met in the desert? Or back on base? In L.A?”

“Nope.” He tightened the cord and gave it a good yank. Yep, it would hold firm.

“You haven't been in one place long enough to meet anyone else. Hold on—” He paused, as if either gearing up his anger or his disbelief. “It isn't anyone here, is it?”

And how did he answer that one? Rachel was his best friend's sister, and that was treading on dangerous ground, too. “Let's just say no other woman has affected me the way Rachel has.” It was the truth, at least.

“Not Rachel.”

“Rachel.” The tying-down was done, so he turned and jammed his fists on his hips. “You got a problem with that?”

“As long as you're good to her, not a bit.”

“Then there's no problem.” He might not be a domesticated, settled-down type of man, but he believed
in treating women right. How could anyone not be good to Rachel? She was so kind, sweet and endearingly funny. She was like coming home. It wouldn't be hard at all to be married to her.

“Hey, handsome.” Ben's wife appeared with a medium-sized box in her arms. “This is the very last of it. Except for the cleaning stuff and the vacuum.”

Jake watched, a little envious and a little awed, as Ben took the box handily and stopped to kiss his wife. There was no missing the bond between them; it was like an unalterable light shining from her eyes and into his. What they had was obviously real. It humbled even a man as cynical as him.

Happiness. Maybe it did exist. Maybe he could have something like that. He was grateful to the Lord for nudging him down this new path.

R
achel ignored the burning ache in her feet and the dull bite of pain in the small of her back. Another twelve-hour day so far and it wasn't over yet. She'd gone from cook to bookkeeper to waitress to hostess and back again and, unless her teenaged twin cousins held up their end of the duties, she'd be handling more of the hostessing.

“Here's your chicken fried steak, Nora.” Rachel handed down the first plate, positioning it just so. “I had Dave add extra butter to the whipped potatoes, I know how you like that, and here's an extra basket of dinner rolls.”

“You're a dear. The best rolls in town.”

“Thank you, since I made them. And for you, Harold, our blue cheese New York steak with baked potato and homemade slow-cooked beans.” She gave the plate
a little twist as she set it down. “And extra glaze. I know you like it. Now, do you two need anything else?”

“You've thought of everything.” Nora's face curved into a smile. “Is your brother's send-off party tomorrow morning?”

“Yep, bright and early. Enjoy your meal. I'll be back to check on you.” Rachel checked the aisle—she'd have to make a pass with a few soda pitchers.

A movement outside the windows caught her attention. More customers, she figured, since the SUV was parked right near the door. The long rays of the setting sun sliced across the man, simply dressed in a navy sweatshirt and jeans, silhouetting him as he opened the passenger's-side door.

Jake. He must have finished helping Ben and Cadence pack for their move south. Ben had to report to duty next week.

Which reminded her. Jake was Florida bound, too. He'd be heading back to his base, back to his life, back to protecting and defending. Her heart gave an impossible wish—just a little one—but it was more of a dream than anything else. Those shoulders of his looked strong enough to carry any burden. And his chest. What would it be like to have the privilege of laying her cheek there? She knew that no place in this world would feel safer.

“Rachel!” Brandilyn darted down the aisle. “You've got a bunch of orders up. I'll grab some and help you catch up.”

“Ooh, me too,” chimed in her identical twin. “You're gonna, like, turn into me, Rache. Daydreamin', like, every second.”

“I don't have time to daydream.” A lot of responsibility was going to land square on her own shoulders soon and she had to be ready for it. This diner was her future, that was where her wishing energy ought to be instead of directed at a man who was impossible for so many reasons. Mostly because guys that great, that handsome, that cool, that awesome, looked right past a quiet girl like her. Maybe she was too simple in this world of technology and fancy degrees and exciting careers. She didn't know.

God knew what was best for her, she believed that with all her being. But sometimes…just sometimes…it would be something to have her most secret wish come true. Her secret dream man was too good to be true—sure, she knew that. But still, the image of him would always live in the deepest places of her heart and had taken root in her soul.

It's time to get back to reality, Rache. There were so many people who needed her for more coffee, to grab another ketchup bottle, to refill their sodas. This was her life and it was enough.

“I'll grab the pitchers and be right back,” she promised Mr. Corey on her way by the table, hurrying to help the teenaged twins, who meant well but often brought disaster right along with them.

They were juggling the orders for the party of twelve in the back. Clearly a nightmare. One of them—Brianna—was about to lose an order of teriyaki chicken, and Brandilyn was going to drop all four plates she was struggling to keep level.

“Let me grab these!” Rachel rescued the teriyaki chicken and tucked it along her forearm, swiped a steaming plate of lasagna from Brandilyn and checked the orders—Krista Greenley's meal was short her substituted baked potato—and hollered through the window to Dave and juggled two more plates. “Let's get these served, ladies.”

She led the way to the back, and as she passed the long row of windows, Jake filled her thoughts again. She'd managed to go a whole minute without thinking of him. The front bell chimed, and the cool evening breeze wafted down the aisle. It was probably him and Sally, come for their supper. As soon as she and the twins reached the table, she'd send Brandilyn back to seat them. The less she had to deal with Jake the better.

A dark color caught the corner of her vision—the navy of Jake's shirt. He was still outside. As she turned her head to see him more clearly, he disappeared behind the open passenger door, but only for a second. When he emerged, he held a sleeping Sally tenderly in his arms. The soft evening light bathed them in a gentle rosy light as Jake pressed a kiss to his little niece's forehead. She stirred, snuggling more deeply against him.

Rachel lost a little more of her heart. Just like that. At this rate, she wouldn't have any left.

“Uh, Rache.” Brianna brushed by, as if heaven was reminding her what was important. “Do you know where these go?”

With some relief, she got back to concentrating on work, serving the meals and checking out the newcomers up front. “Krista, I'm sorry, your baked potato is on its way. I'll bring it with the rest of the orders. Jenna, here's your chicken teriyaki. And—” she whipped out a small bottle with her now-free hand “—a soy sauce.”

She moved her way around the table so she could check the front of the restaurant, but Jake wasn't one of the customers waiting to be seated. He must have carried Sally up to bed. With promises to bring steak sauce and Krista's potato, she hurried through the swinging doors and thanked Dave for having Mrs. Edison's order boxed and sacked. After grabbing more condiment bottles, she set the ticket beside Brianna, who was now at the cash register and talking to herself as she rang it up.

“I put in an extra container of tartar,” Rachel told her former teacher as she handed the boxed meal to the older lady. “Have a good evening, Mrs. Edison.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Jake charged into her thoughts again. As she bustled down the aisle, avoiding the party Brandilyn was currently seating, she wondered if he and Sally had had a
chance to eat. She caught herself just in time. It's not your business, Rache. She wanted to tell herself that she'd show the same amount of concern for anyone who was staying in the upstairs apartment, but she knew that wasn't the truth.

“Your baked potato with extra sour cream.” She presented the plate to a smiling Krista and then handed out the Cheeseburger Deluxe and Mom's Super Meat loaf. She produced a few different bottles of steak sauces and everyone was happy.

She handed off the fresh container of ketchup, grabbed a pitcher of soda and one of decaf and made the rounds. Made another to distribute more butter and a complimentary second order of fries for the deputy who was not only a loyal customer, but who always went beyond the call of duty for her sisters and their diner. Rachel then sent Brandilyn away from the cash register—she looked too befuddled while ringing up a family of four.

“Bus for me, would you?” she asked the teenager, who agreed cheerfully and hurried off, cracking her gum.

“Busy night?”

That familiar baritone had her toes curling. She handed over the Coreys' change, thanked them for coming and as they moved away from the counter, she saw Jake. His short hair was tousled, his sweatshirt rumpled, and yet he'd never looked more handsome. Maybe it
was the remembered image of him holding the sleeping child so tenderly. Or the depth of affection in the parental kiss to her forehead. His strength and manliness was warrior-honed, and he had a heart like her father had had, that of a loving and good man.

“It's a home football-game night. It always keeps us on our toes.” Rachel handed Brianna seven menus, and as the Sheridan family followed the teenager, she realized that was the end to the first rush. Everyone was seated, Paige must have come in the back because she was serving table four's meal. “We'll have a big push out the door in about twenty-five minutes, and then things will quiet down. How's Sally?”

“Exhausted. She hasn't been sleeping well, and I think spending the day with Amy's son, playing and swimming and whatever else they did, tired her out enough. She's out like a light.”

“I saw you carrying her.” Great, now she sounded like a stalker. “Through the windows.” She gestured at the long row of glass reflecting the parked cars outside and the impending twilight.

He didn't seem to respond. “I don't want to leave her for long. Do you do takeout here?”

“Sure. Here's a menu.” No more social blunders around this man, Rachel. “There isn't a phone upstairs, but did you want to take my cell? You can call the order in, and when it's ready, I'll send one of the twins up with your meal. That way you don't have to leave Sally alone.”

“You'd do that?”

“For you. Sure.” She realized what she'd said a second too late, and embarrassment burned her face. She did sound like a stalker or something, because now he was staring at her. The openness was gone. He stood like a granite statue, and did not look up from the menu he was studying. Not even when she took her cell from her pocket and set it on the edge of the counter.

It's just not meant to be. She knew it; she'd always known it. She stepped back, determined to keep her distance and what, if anything, was left of her dignity. “The number's on the front of the menu. Just give us a call.”

“Thanks.” His hand shot out and covered hers. She felt the warm comfort of his skin, the way his wide palm engulfed her hand. And in that moment, when his dark gaze found hers, she told herself it wasn't her future she saw. So why, when he left, did it feel as if he'd taken her destiny with him?

 

Jake hesitated at the bedroom door, looking back at his little niece. Sally was still fast asleep. Curled up on her side, bunched in a fetal position, so small and helpless.

He eased the bedroom door shut. The fierce need to protect her roared up in him, and he fisted his hands in frustration. What good was all his military training and all the specialized skills he'd learned to defend this country, when they couldn't do a single thing to rescue Sally from what was hurting her?

Grief wasn't something he could ambush or capture, fight off or beat down. He'd never felt so inadequate or lost, but he trusted the Lord to guide him through this, for Sally's sake. Because he couldn't do this alone.

He heard what he thought were footsteps on the outside stairs. When he'd called down his order, Rachel hadn't been the one to answer the phone. He knew she was busy—he'd seen how hard she was working and how crowded the restaurant was, so he didn't expect her to be on the other side of the door. But when she was, peace settled in his soul.

Definitely nice.

“Surprise.” She spoke low, as if she expected Sally to be still napping and gestured with the huge sack she carried in both arms. “I told you there would be a lull. I hope you don't mind that I came. The twins are on break and I couldn't talk them into coming.”

“It's okay.”

“I brought the makings for hot chocolate. Enough for two, uh, in case you want some.”

He could only stare because she blew him away. He'd never known anyone this thoughtful. She just kept wowing him. He stepped back, holding open the screen door for her. “Come in. Can I take that?”

“Oh, no.”

“Then what do I owe you?”

“Nice try, but I don't want your money.” She moved past him like poetry of beauty and grace.

His chest tugged hard in a painful, inexplicable way.

“I don't want a free meal.” He pulled the door closed against the crisp evening winds. “That's not why I ordered from your place.”

“So? You helped Ben, we help you.” She moved through the half-lit room, circling the couch and disappearing through the kitchen door, and her gait tapped to a stop. The refrigerator door opened. “I'll just put the milk in here. And I wrapped up Sally's dinner, so all you need to do is take this out and pop it in the oven, preheated to three-fifty, for fifteen minutes, and it will be just right for her.”

Jake watched as she set a foil packet in the refrigerator. Her cheese pizza from the kid's menu, he presumed, and it looked like a little more than a pizza. Rachel added a large container, the milk he guessed, and another covered plate.

“For dessert,” she explained as she closed the door and folded the big sack she'd carried everything up in. “Did you want to eat in here or the living room? I could put this on a plate.”

Okay, so maybe he wasn't in love with this woman, but he didn't really believe in love. And if the hard pang that settled dead center in his chest and throbbed like a bullet wound wasn't deep, serious-like, then he didn't know what was.

He
did
feel something for this woman, he could admit it. He admired her. God was right. She would be
great for Sally. She was perfect, she was wonderful, she was a dream, and he couldn't speak like a normal, sane man when he was near her. So he managed to grunt and nod. Maybe he felt more than like for Rachel. He wasn't sure if he felt comfortable with that. He was a lone-wolf kind of guy.

She moved around the small, rather dusty kitchen as if she were at home. She brought down the plate and found silverware, and he just watched her work, humming a little.

“You really enjoy this, don't you?”

“Enjoy what? I noticed you had the TV on. I take it you want to eat in there?”

He nodded. There were some reruns of a family sitcom that had just come on. He got all of two channels with the rabbit ears on top of the decades-old set, and neither was as interesting as Rachel. “You wouldn't be able to stay for a few minutes, would you?”

“Oh, I wish. You have no idea.” She blushed, as if she realized what she'd said. How much she revealed.