Heaven's Touch (4 page)

How weird was it that she was working here?
Working.
As a lifeguard. What had happened to her big plans to get out of this backwater place? What about the fame and riches of her diving career? Why wasn't she in broadcast sports?

Good questions. He remembered what the doc had told him—the one he'd nearly blown a gasket at because he hadn't liked the diagnosis.
You can't always get what you want, hotshot.
The M.D.'s words haunted him as he touched the wall and began another lap. Had the same thing happened to Cadence?

It troubled him all through his laps. When white-hot pain was shooting through his calf and he was clenching his jaw so tight he couldn't breathe correctly between strokes, he had to call it a day. Done.

And after only a quarter of a mile, too. He swallowed the disappointment as he climbed out of the pool, ignoring the stabbing pain and the throbbing burn of injured muscles and tendons. He hadn't pushed as hard as he'd wanted to, and he was beat. Recovery might not be as quick as he'd hoped.

You have to be tougher, that's all.

Ben ignored the way his leg was shaking so hard, it wouldn't support any weight. He was glad Cadence was at the far end of the pool—he'd timed it that way. She stood by the diving pool, separated by a concrete bridge from the regular pool. The diving boards towered behind her, the springboard and platforms empty and still.

For an instant the image of Cadence on TV accepting her medal was superimposed on her standing poolside in her jacket and suit, with her silver whistle hanging around her neck.

He still couldn't reconcile the two images as she moved on ordinary, discount-store flip-flops along the deck, squatting down with the grace of a gymnast to speak with the elderly lady who'd passed him about six times in the next lane.

Whatever happened to Cadence is none of your business, man.

Ben snatched his crutches and settled them into place. The deck was aggregate concrete, which provided decent traction for his crutches, but it was slightly wet in places from folks dripping on their way from the showers to the pool. He went slowly.

More devoted swimmers were arriving—it looked as if he'd stopped at just the right time. He'd been all right swimming slowly and steadily, but he'd been in
a lane by himself. If he'd stayed in the pool longer, he wouldn't have been able to keep pace.

His pride burned as he headed to the locker-room door on his crutches. He'd remember to be here the same time—when they opened—tomorrow. And Cadence, would she be on duty?

Keeping his face down, he risked glancing upward through his lashes to watch her. What had happened to Cadence to bring her here, when she'd had everything she'd ever wanted? While he turned the corner and moved into the showers, he remembered her teenaged voice, soft and sweet.
I can't wait to get out of this boringville. I'm getting out and I'm never coming back.

Never
was one of those ominous words, Ben had learned. Because we weren't as in control of our lives as we liked to think. God was, and Ben had no clue why the Lord had brought him back here to the central Montana country where he'd been born and raised.

He was lucky—he had nothing to complain about. His primary duty in the military was rescuing and patching up pilots and soldiers wounded in action, wherever they were, on the front lines or in hostile enemy territory. He'd seen enough wounded men and women to know that for whatever reason, the angels had been keeping him safe on his last mission, but he couldn't help feeling defeated.

I can't do any good to anyone here, Father.
He was impatient and he knew it, and he believed that this, too, was part of God's plan for him, but he was impatient anyway. Duty called. He'd had to turn off the radio again this morning on the drive here because there had been an update about soldiers being shot and injured in Iraq.

Pararescue had been Ben's purpose for all of his adult life. He was just irritable, being stuck here. Irritable waiting to get his leg back into shape.

Whatever had happened to bring Cadence back couldn't have been too traumatic, he decided as he showered and limped to the lockers. She'd looked great—more relaxed, her smile easy and wide, and her cornflower-blue eyes sparkling as she'd talked with her morning regulars.

Whatever happened, he'd be seeing her again. But they were strangers now. There was no going back to their high school days when they'd been practically inseparable. When he'd loved her with the whole of his heart. When he'd believed they were soul mates.

No such things as soul mates, he told himself as he pulled his T-shirt over his head. Failure became a tight vise in his chest until it hurt to breathe. He'd failed at every major relationship he'd ever started, and he knew he'd failed Cadence the most.

Just go chase your gold, he'd said to her selfishly,
hoping to hurt her, in the way that only an eighteen-year-old boy could.

Seeing her brought back too much pain. There were other times, aside from early mornings, set aside at the pool for lap swims. Maybe he'd start coming in the evening.

“B
en!” His sister Amy saw him first, since she was ringing up a ticket behind the front counter. She handed Mr. Brisbane his change and came around the corner with both arms outstretched. “I heard a rumor you were in town. Oh, give me a hug, mister!”

“Do I have to?” He groaned, but he was only faking it, and they both knew it. His baby sister was all grown up—and happy, judging by the glow on her cheeks and her wide smile.

Wow. Since when did Amy smile like that? He snuggled her to him and gave her a raspberry on the side of her head, something he'd done since she was a baby toddling around. And his chest warmed when she laughed, the sound making him feel as if he were finally home.

“Look how healthy you look!” Amy swatted him in the chest with the flat of her hand, a playful swipe.

So many emotions swarmed within him, seeing her so happy and grown up and centered, as if she'd come into her place in the world.

She stepped back to get a good look at him. “You scared us all to death. Missing in action. Then a casualty.”

He could see she was prepared to go on, but he held up his hand. “I've already gotten the lecture from Rachel. I promise, no more getting shot on duty.”

“Ben.” Mr. Brisbane had pocketed his wallet, and offered his hand. “It's good to see you back in one piece, son. Hoo-yah.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ben saluted the former soldier, who'd fought in the Pacific and been wounded on Iwo Jima. “It's good to see you again.”

With a nod as if to say, “You'll do, Ben McKaslin,” Ed Brisbane moved on, and behind him was another veteran. Clyde Winkler had braved the beaches at Normandy.

“You make us proud, son.” Clyde clapped Ben on the shoulder as he passed, as if unable to say more.

Proud? No, Ben figured he'd been passable as a soldier, but when he looked up, leaning on his crutches to follow Amy down the aisle to the closest empty booth, everyone in the diner was on their feet.

And clapping.

They weren't applauding him specifically, he knew, but just that he was the nearest soldier from the Iraqi conflict. The Middle East was so far away, where so many men and women served—soldiers who'd left their homes, families and lives behind to serve and protect. Ben thought of the soldiers he hadn't been able to save. Of the men and women who'd given their lives for their country.

He blushed and felt inadequate. “Don't clap because I didn't dodge a bullet. That's not the kind of behavior you want to reward.”

A ripple of laughter rolled through the diner. Grateful he didn't have to walk a step farther, he collapsed on the seat and let Amy steal his crutches.

“Coffee.” She returned to pour him a cup. Her diamond engagement ring glittered in the cheerful sunlight slanting through the window.

Had it been a month since she'd e-mailed him with her news? She'd been excited to be engaged. His sister. The one who didn't trust men. She must have found a trustworthy one—or one she thought was an upstanding kind of guy.

We'll have to see about that. He reached for the sugar canister. “Where is he? Is he on the grill?”

“No, Heath's getting some paperwork straightened out. He's a doctor, but he has to pass the state qualifications. Do you want the huckleberry pancake platter?”

His favorite. He knew he really was here, because home was where they knew you, and loved you anyway. “Sure.”

“Comin' right up, brother dear.” She padded her way up the aisle, light on her feet, pausing to refill cups and chat with the regulars.

An odd time warp overtook him. It was as if nothing had changed in all the years he'd been gone. Since he was a little guy no taller than the tables, he'd done time in this diner. The white tile floor was the same, the big drafty front windows were the same, the worn red Formica tabletops, too. The same families and customers had been frequenting this diner for two generations.

The years seemed to slip away until he felt like the kid he used to be grumbling over the hot grill, angry that his fate in life was to have been born in a family that owned a diner. Not a health club or a yacht or a recording studio in Los Angeles, but a dull little restaurant in the middle of Nowhere, Montana.

It wasn't shame he felt. It wasn't sadness at the lost boy he'd been. But his vision doubled, as if he'd taken a blow to the head. Regrets washed through him like acid rain, eating at his core. He'd come a long way from the angry, rebellious boy he'd been.

In the air force he knew who he was. Master Sergeant McKaslin, squad leader, a pararescuer
who'd been on every continent on this planet—except Antarctica.

He'd rescued downed pilots and injured soldiers from live combat and hostage situations and delivered lifesaving medical care. From deserts and jungles and hot zones all around the globe. He knew who he was in his uniform.

But here, in this town he'd grown up in, he was a stranger. He was not the same Ben McKaslin who'd left at eighteen. That's why every rare visit home was tough. How am I going to make it six more weeks?

“Ben? Is that you?” A familiar voice rose among the din of the diner behind him.

Paige. His throat ached at the sight of the woman who'd been both big sister and step-in mom when he'd needed it most. He hated to think where he'd be without her guidance long ago. Or maybe her guidance had come more out of her desperation, since he hadn't been the easiest teenage boy to deal with.

She hadn't changed much. She'd let her hair grow past her shoulders, although this morning it was swept back out of the way. Her arms were around him before he could register the finer lines that had cut into her face. Tiny ones around her dark eyes and around the corners of her mouth.

Time. It was passing. Paige was a handful of years older than he was. And although she was somehow lovelier than ever, it reminded him that
they were all getting older. He'd done the right thing in coming home.

He'd given the ten-second allotment for acts of affection and he stiffened, drawing back, though he couldn't deny he liked being fussed over by his sisters. “I'm a Special Forces soldier. I don't do hugs.”

“Suffer anyway. They train you for receiving torture, right?” She gave him an extra squeeze, which was supposedly more torture, he figured, before releasing him. Happiness crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Oh, you look good. What's with the crutches? You weren't tough enough to take a bullet without getting hurt?”

“I could take grenade shrapnel and a claymore that didn't go off good enough, but I wasn't impervious to a bullet.”

“Aren't you always saying that you're about as sensitive and soft as a ton of iron? I just wish you didn't have to come home hurt, but it is good to have you here, little brother.” The look in her eyes said a whole lot more.

He didn't know what to say. He loved his sisters, but he didn't feel comfortable saying so. He didn't feel comfortable with a lot of things.

Amy brought his pancake platter, stacked high with an egg, hash browns and sausage links. His stomach growled. This morning's swim had honed his appetite, so he bowed his head for grace and
then grabbed the syrup, content to eat so he wouldn't have to talk.

But his sisters hovered over him, keeping a close eye to whatever he needed. A few diners, friends of the family, stopped to say hello. Some had loved ones in the Middle East. Some just wanted to say they were glad he was home safely.

It should have been nice. It
was
nice. But he was no hero. Just a man who did his job…and hadn't done it well enough. His leg ached, his future stretched out ahead of him like a big bleak question mark and worst of all, he couldn't forget Cadence.

Seeing her again had opened up too many doors in his heart and in his past. It took all his effort to close them tight. He was happy for her and her gold medals. Her fame and glory. Her achievement in her life. He hoped she had everything she wanted. She was a good person and she deserved her success.

The food seemed tasteless, but he kept on eating. He battled to bury the past, and took the local paper Amy offered him on her way down the aisle. The past was over and done with. There wasn't a power anywhere that could change it.

So why did his thoughts keep returning to his morning swim and the woman on guard duty? He'd watched her dive to near perfection over and over again on the grainy little set in the dorm on base. She'd moved like a ballerina, twisted like a gymnast
and competed with the poise of a confident, world-class athlete.

He'd watched later as her lovely face, the one he knew so well he could draw it from memory, had filled the TV screen. Tears had shone on her face when she'd sung the national anthem, a gold disk around her neck.

You got what you wanted, he'd thought. He'd stopped watching after her first medal, on the ten-meter platform.

All this time, he'd done his level best not to think of her. He'd been fiercely in love with her once, when he wasn't good enough to kiss the ground at her feet. He'd been nothing but trouble back then, a disaster waiting to happen, and he knew it. Pushing her away then had been the right decision.

She'd gone on to glory and dreams, and he'd found his niche in life, carrying an M-203 and fast roping from helicopters. It was for the best. And that's the way it would stay.

“Ben?” Amy caught his attention, holding on to a tall man. “I want you to meet my fiancé, Heath Murdock. I know you two are going to really get along.”

Ben blinked. He took in his baby sister's beaming smile, how she lit up inside when she looked at the quiet man, who had a spine-straight, feet-braced-apart stance that shouted “military.” So this was Heath? Reserving judgment, Ben wondered how any man on this planet could be good enough for Amy.

She seemed oblivious to the dark frown he was giving both her and her betrothed, and kept talking. “Heath used to be in the marines.”

“Once a marine, always a marine,” the stoic stranger commented. He held out his hand. “Good to meet you, Ben.”

“You, too.” And if you hurt my sister, I'll make you sorry. He couldn't help being protective. Lord knew he hadn't been around when Amy had really needed him before, when her life had taken a painful turn. He shook Heath's hand, liking the fact that he had a solid shake and a good hard stare. Only time would tell about this stranger.

Amy seemed to be pretty sure, judging by the adoration that seemed to radiate from her. She couldn't seem to take her eyes from Heath. The front door opened, a gust of hot wind swept in and she went to greet the newcomers, but her gaze kept returning to the man in the aisle.

Ben recognized the sweetness of Rachel's voice and then the pounding footsteps of a little boy run-walking down the aisle.

Amy's son shouted, “Uncle Ben! Uncle Ben!”

Amy called out, reminding him to walk.

Ben's throat filled. The last time he'd been home, Westin had been a little guy. Here he was, bigger and older and with the long-limbed energy of a seven-year-old. His cowlick stuck straight up, and he was
out of breath, wheezing a little. The boy had inherited Ben's childhood asthma, but he looked as if he was doing well.

“Uncle Ben! Are you comin' to my game? I'm gonna hit the ball and everything!”

“Uh, sure, buddy.”

Time. It was changing this place and these people. His sisters were older. His nephew was older. Regret tugged hard in his chest, leaving Ben unable to speak as his nephew climbed onto the bench seat on the other side of the booth.

His heart gave a little twist. The tyke looked so much like Ben at that age it was like staring at the little boy he'd been before his parents' car crash. Before his world had fractured into a zillion pieces, never to be made right again.

It still wasn't right. His appetite gone, he shoved the plate aside and opted for the full cup of coffee. Across the table, Westin rocked back and forth, barely containing boyish energy.

For Ben, the memory of his childhood broke apart and time fell back into sync again. He heard pots clatter from the direction of the kitchen. The
ca-ching
of the old cash register. The busy chatter of voices as families gathered together for a Saturday-morning meal.

He was the only one who hadn't changed. The only one who'd remained the same. It was as if life were passing by and he hadn't been part of it.

And never would be.

The coffee tasted acrid on his tongue, even after he added more sugar. Then again, maybe that was just life, bitter instead of sweet.

 

“Do I have to drag you outta here?” Peggy Jennings called from the office door, her voice echoing in the near silence of the lapping pool waters. “I mean it. I've got a rope.”

“Sure you do.” Cadence ignored her friend and mentor to concentrate on the teenage girl perched on the edge of the springboard.

Ashley Higgs was a swim team member with hopes of a college scholarship in athletics—not easy to get for those sports outside the big three of football, basketball and baseball.

Since Cadence knew what it was like to work so hard and hope so earnestly, she ended the hour-long session as she always did. “This is the last dive of the day. We worked on some hard stuff, but this one is for fun. Just enjoy.”

Ashley huffed a breath, lost in concentration. Fun wasn't so easy. Cadence knew about that, too. Not when everything seemed to be at stake. She backed down the deck, keeping one eye on the girl as she went. The farther away she was, the more likely the student would dive for the love of it. For the sheer joy.

Not today, apparently. Tired from her hard
work, Ashley sprang from the board. Once airborne, she wobbled a little too much, didn't keep arch in her back and hit the water with a splash that sent droplets onto the deck. Ashley broke the surface and flew up the ladder, shaking her head, going over in her mind everything that was wrong with that dive.