Light This Candle (Harlequin More Than Words)
Read Light This Candle (Harlequin More Than Words) Online
Authors: Cindy Dees
More Than Words: Bestselling authors
& Real-life
heroines
Each year, the Harlequin More Than Words award is given to
three women who have worked hard to change people’s lives for the better.
Inspired by their accomplishments, three bestselling authors have written
stories to honor these real-life heroines.
In
Light This Candle
, Major Mitch
McConnell has arrived home after serving overseas for nearly two years. Now he
can finally give his condolences to Cassidy Frazier, whose husband died under
his command. But when he tracks down the single mother, he finds out that
Cassidy is about to be evicted and her son, Cody, is in the hospital.
At first, Cassidy tells Mitch she doesn’t want his help. The
military wasn’t there for her when it mattered most, so she certainly doesn’t
need them now. But Mitch is more than a soldier: he’s a caring, gentle man who’s
determined to ease Cassidy’s burdens. And if she lets him into her family,
perhaps she can give Mitch something worth fighting for…
Look for all three ebooks inspired by real-life heroines:
Good Neighbors
by Sheila Roberts,
Just Joe
by Carla Cassidy and
Light This Candle
by Cindy Dees. Visit the Harlequin More Than Words
website at
www.HarlequinMoreThanWords.com
or your
favorite ebook retailer to download these free novellas today.
Dear Reader,
For many years Harlequin has been a leader in supporting and
promoting women’s charitable efforts. Through Harlequin More Than Words, each
year we celebrate three women who make extraordinary differences in the lives of
others, and Harlequin donates $15,000 each to their chosen causes.
We are proud to highlight the current Harlequin More Than
Words recipients with the help of some of the biggest names in women’s fiction,
Harlequin authors, who have created fictional stories inspired by these women
and the charities they support. Within the following pages you will find
Light This Candle,
a touching story written by Cindy
Dees—one of three ebooks available at
www.HarlequinMoreThanWords.com
. Be sure to look for Sheila
Roberts’s
Good Neighbors,
and Carla Cassidy’s
Just Joe
—also available online. A book with three
additional stories, written by Sherryl Woods, Christina Skye and Pamela Morsi,
can be found on the shelves of your favorite bookstore in
More Than Words, Where Dreams Begin.
All six of these stories are
beautiful tributes to the Harlequin More Than Words recipients and we hope they
will ignite the heroine in you.
For more information on how you can get involved, please
visit our website at
www.HarlequinMoreThanWords.com
.
Together we can make a difference!
Sincerely,
Donna Hayes
Publisher and
CEO
Harlequin
Patches of Light
Name:
Mindy Atwood
Hometown:
Hilliard, Ohio
Recipient’s Related Charity:
Patches of Light
Website:
http://patchesoflight.org/
How Mindy inspires others:
Imagine how hard it must be for a family with a critically
ill child to also have to worry about financial difficulties. Now imagine how
bad it was for Mindy Atwood and her family trying to cope with two sons in
critical condition, and no respite from the financial gloom pressing down on
them. Yet even in the darkest of times, Mindy could occasionally feel relief,
perhaps stemming from good news or a kind gesture, as if a patch of light had
somehow managed to penetrate the black cloud in the air.
With a desire to have something positive emerge from her
family’s difficult journey, Mindy founded Patches of Light, a nonprofit
organization seeking to aid families with critically ill children by offering
financial aid for nonmedical items such as utility bills, rent, groceries and
gas. Mindy purposely avoids ever meeting the families they assist to prevent any
feelings of obligation. “We want them to go and take care of their children,”
Mindy says, “while we help them with the means to do that.”
While fund-raising remains the greatest challenge facing the
organization, especially when competing against other NPOs with far greater
resources, on a personal level Mindy has to balance duties as the CEO with
full-time work and life as a mother and grandmother.
While Mindy gets the most credit for the success of Patches
of Light, which she regards as one of her own children, she acknowledges the
great support the organization has received from her entire family, especially
her husband, Rodney. “We started off running Patches as a family effort and
everything in our lives continues to revolve around it.”
Cindy Dees
More Than Words
Light This Candle
About the Author
Cindy Dees started flying airplanes while sitting in her
dad’s lap at the age of three and got a pilot’s license before she got a
driver’s license. At age fifteen, she dropped out of high school and left the
horse farm in Michigan where she grew up to attend the University of
Michigan.
After earning a degree in Russian and East European Studies,
she joined the U.S. Air Force and became the youngest female pilot in its
history. She flew supersonic jets, VIP airlift, and the C-5 Galaxy, one of the
world’s largest cargo airplanes. She also worked part-time gathering
intelligence. During her military career, she traveled to forty-two countries on
five continents, was detained by the KGB and East German secret police, got shot
at, flew in the first Gulf War, met her husband, and amassed a lifetime’s worth
of war stories that she uses to create her stories of romantic suspense.
Her hobbies include medieval reenacting, professional Middle
Eastern dancing, and Japanese gardening. This 2-time RITA winner has published
forty novels and counting. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted
at her website:
www.cindydees.com
CHAPTER ONE
Mitch McConnell paused in the doorway of the C-17
transport plane and gazed around the ramp at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in
Dayton, Ohio. It smelled deliciously like fall—burning leaves, cold nights. Man,
even the greasy ramp smelled good right now.
It was great to finally be home. Six months of down-range
training followed by fifteen months deployed in one of the world’s most
terrorist-ridden danger zones had really taken its toll on him and his men.
Families squealed and hugged and laughed in clusters on the
tarmac below him, and he couldn’t help but grin at the joyous homecoming
reunions.
He didn’t have any family of his own to greet him. The military
had always been his family, and that was enough for him. Most of the time. But
at a moment like this, part of him wished for a soft, sweet woman to wrap her
arms around him and cry a little because he was home, safe and sound. Heck, even
a rug rat or two clinging to his neck like a monkey wouldn’t be so bad. He shook
off the melancholy. He was a soldier, not a family man.
He spent the next hour making sure everyone caught up with
their duffel bags. When his was the only one left sitting on the baggage pallet,
he hefted it and headed for the unit. It was common practice for the bachelors
to leave their vehicles in the care of someone they trusted in their absence. On
homecoming days, the cars were all brought on base and parked in the parking lot
for them. It was one less hassle to face after a long, jet-lag-inducing
flight.
The guys who’d been filling in for him while he’d been deployed
had done a credible job of keeping crises off his desk, and only one piece of
paper waited for him, front and center on his desk pad. His heart fell when he
read it. Listed were the names and current addresses of the three young widows
who’d lost husbands on this tour overseas.
He could wait until tomorrow to make the condolence visits, but
he’d slept for most of the flight, and he’d only sit at home tonight dreading
the task if he didn’t just get it over with now. It was far and away the most
difficult part of his job. He’d rather get shot at than have to face the grief
of bereaved family members. He was damned proud of losing only three men in over
a year’s worth of dangerous missions, but that didn’t make it any less of a
tragedy for their families.
According to his list, one of the widows had already moved back
to California to be with her parents. He’d write her a letter expressing his
sympathy and praising her husband’s valor.
He drove to the first local address on his list and pulled up
in front of a ratty house with a bunch of Harleys parked in the driveway. Great.
And he was in uniform, his gray-and-beige combat dress as establishment as it
was possible to be.
His conversation through a screen door with the widow was short
and uncomfortable. She was apparently some biker’s old lady now, and told him in
no uncertain terms what the military could do with itself and its
condolences.
Man, these visits usually took hours. At this rate, he’d be
done in time to head home, grab a cold brewsky, prop his feet up and watch his
first Monday Night Football game in nearly two years.
He’d never met Jimmy Frazier’s wife, but she had to be young.
Jimmy had been in his mid-twenties. Died the very first day the unit was
deployed. He’d been hit by a training missile gone awry—one of those freak
accidents that no one could have foreseen or prevented. Mitch pulled into the
widow’s apartment complex and parked his Jeep at the front office, since the
address he had didn’t include a unit number. He stepped inside the office and a
perky young blonde looked up from a gossip magazine.
“Can you tell me which apartment Cassidy Frazier lives in?” he
asked.
“You here to repossess her car or something?” the girl
replied.
The widow was in financial trouble? It wasn’t uncommon for
young wives left abruptly on their own to have no idea how to manage money. “No,
I’m from her late husband’s military unit. Thought I’d check up on her and see
how she’s doing.”
“About homeless is how she’s doing. The management company’s
fixing to evict her at the end of this week. Too bad, what with her kid and all.
But if you can’t pay your rent, there’s nothing we can do about it, you
know?”
“What about her kid?”
“He’s in the hospital. Dying or something. I think he needs a
heart transplant.”
Mitch jolted.
Dying?
“Where can I
find Mrs. Frazier?”
“Spends most of her time at the hospital. I hope they’ll let
her live there when my boss boots her out.”
“Do you have your boss’s card, by any chance?” he asked
smoothly.
“Sure.” The girl rooted around in a drawer. “It’s in here
somewhere...hah. Here it is. A little bent up, but that’s it.”
“Thanks.” Mitch pocketed the card, spun smartly on his booted
heel and strode to his truck. The woman had lost her husband and now her child
was dying? Talk about rotten luck.
Worse, he smelled a bureaucratic screwup. As a widow, her
survivor’s gratuity and her husband’s insurance payout should have added up to
hundreds of thousands of dollars. Plus, her son should qualify for full health
care benefits. She shouldn’t be in dire financial straits less than two years
after her husband died. What was up with that?
He pointed his truck out of the parking lot, but paused as he
reached the street. Which hospital would the child be at? He chose the nearest
one, which also happened to be the largest in the region. He parked in the
garage and navigated a bewildering maze of hallways before he finally came to an
information desk with a volunteer.
“I’m looking for a patient. A child. Last name Frazier. Mom’s
first name is Cassidy.”
“Are you related to the family?” the gray-haired woman
asked.
“The child’s deceased father worked for me. I’m trying to find
Mrs. Frazier to make a condolence call.”
The woman hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, eyeing his
uniform and major’s oak leaves, “I’m not supposed to release that information,
but if you go up to Intensive Care Unit *2, you might find who you’re looking
for. Goodness knows,” she added in a rush, “Cassidy could use a friendly face
right about now.” She indicated the corridor behind her. “ICU’s on the fifth
floor. Elevators are to your left about a hundred feel down that hall.”
“Thanks.” Intensive care, huh? That didn’t sound good.
* * *
Cassidy Frazier slumped on a high stool next to her
son’s bed. He looked so small and fragile. At least he was resting quietly. His
breathing was closer to normal now that they had him on oxygen full-time.
Normally they would have to sedate a five-year old boy on respiratory support to
keep him still, but Cody was so weak it wasn’t necessary. Eight months they’d
been waiting for a new heart for him. She didn’t know how much longer her baby
could hang on. Frankly, she was nearing the end of her rope, too.
She bent and rested her forehead on the bed rail beside Cody’s
frail little hand. A hand that should be throwing baseballs and picking up toads
and finger painting. But instead, it lay there on top of the white sheet, limp
and lifeless.
A silent sob shook her slender frame. She couldn’t lose him. He
was the last piece of Jimmy that she had. She’d promised her husband when he’d
left to go overseas that she’d take care of Cody for him. But she’d never
dreamed it would mean enduring this unending nightmare of false hope and
heartbreak, months on end in and out of the hospital...now mostly in.
She couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t hold her life
together. Couldn’t find the energy to scrape together any more money to pay for
experimental treatments not covered by Jimmy’s military health insurance.
Couldn’t paste one more smile over her tears for Cody’s sake.
This was it. She’d reached the end of the road.
Please, Jimmy. Come back to me. Take this
nightmare away and make everything okay again. I just want things to go back
to the way they were
.
The sobs became too much to hold back. She slapped a hand over
her mouth and raced out into the hall so she wouldn’t disturb Cody. She sagged
against the wall outside his room and finally gave vent to the grief, fear and
loneliness that were always there, threatening to crash over her like a massive
wave.
The agony in her chest was too much to bear and she slid to the
floor, curled in on herself and cried her heart out. The hell of it was she
didn’t feel one bit better afterward. And now her nose was runny and her eyes
red. For months, to cover up the aftermath of her tears, she’d been lying to
Cody about having allergies.
As her sobs wound down, the elevator at the end of the curving
hall dinged and she started. Visiting hours were almost over and the hospital
staff used another elevator most of the time.
She glimpsed a man, blurred by her tears, stepping out of the
elevator. He was dressed in speckled gray. Beige suede combat boots.
A soldier
. Tall and strong like Jimmy. Dark haired
like him. Same confident stride. Surely not...they’d been certain he died, even
though his body hadn’t been recovered...
Her heart took a mighty leap in her chest. Jimmy had come back
to her! Her prayer had been answered—but then the insanity of that idea slammed
into her so hard it nearly finished her off.
She scrubbed at her eyes, dashing away tears to see more
clearly. As he drew closer, she saw the differences between this man and Jimmy.
This man was a half dozen years older. A few inches taller. Leaner than Jimmy,
who’d always carried a little baby fat around his middle. This man’s eyes were
light and piercing, where Jimmy’s had been dark and soft and warm. And—oh,
dear—he wore officer’s insignia on his collar instead of Jimmy’s enlisted
stripes.
She scrambled to her feet as he approached her and asked
tentatively, “Mrs. Frazier?”
She blinked up at him, feeling like an owl. “Who are you?” she
finally managed to mumble.
“I’m Mitch McConnell. Are you Cassidy Frazier?”
She nodded, puzzled by this man’s presence here and now.
He let out a relieved breath. “Good. I’ve been looking for
you.”
“Why?” What on earth did the military want with her? They’d
been doing their darnedest to ignore her ever since Jimmy died. When Cody got
sick, it had become imperative to get Jimmy’s messed-up benefits straightened
out so he could receive medical care. But the confusing tangle of government
paperwork and bureaucracy was ongoing. At least she’d gotten Cody’s health
insurance mostly ironed out with the help of the hospital’s insurance staff.
“I’m the executive officer from Jimmy’s unit. I wanted to give
you my personal condolences. Your husband was a fine man and a credit to his
country.” He exhaled hard. “I also wanted to see if there’s anything I can do to
help you. Our unit looks after its own, and you’re part of our family.”
“What did you have in mind?” she asked blankly. A few wives
from the unit had kept in touch with her for the first couple of months after
that awful day when the chaplain had shown up at her front door. But eventually
they’d tired of her grief and drifted away. Not that she could blame them.
All of Jimmy’s buddies had been deployed at the time of his
death, and even later none of them had come by the apartment. Maybe they’d been
too tied up with their own families when they’d rotated home on brief vacations,
or maybe it had hurt too much to see her and be reminded of Jimmy. Or maybe they
just hadn’t known what to say. But not one of them had come over.
He shrugged. “I can take care of whatever you need. Jimmy gave
his life for his country. It’s the least I can do to lend you a hand.”
It was a fine thing for the military to suddenly give a darn,
fifteen months after Jimmy died. Where had this guy been when she’d had to bury
her husband alone? When she’d had to learn how to repair toilets and balance a
checkbook? When she’d received the horrendous news that her son’s heart was
failing and he would die if he didn’t receive a new one?
She spoke frostily. “That’s very kind of you—” she checked the
color of the oak leaf on his collar: gold “—Major McConnell. But Cody and I can
take care of ourselves.”
“I understand,” he said gently enough that she wondered for a
second if maybe he really did. He pulled something small and white out of a
pocket and spoke as he scribbled on it. “Here’s my card. I’ve written my cell
phone number and my personal email on the back. Please call me any time, day or
night, if you need anything at all. I mean it. I’m happy to help out however I
can.”
Wow. That was actually a really nice offer. Too bad he couldn’t
have kept her husband alive and brought him home to her. She stared up at him
with the accusation in her eyes and his gaze faltered. Fell away. He knew what
she was thinking. It hung unspoken between them as the silence grew unbearably
awkward.
Finally he cleared his throat. “I don’t want to intrude. I hope
your son gets better real soon.”
He moved past her down the hall, and she stared at his
retreating back, hating him and everything he represented. How come he was alive
and Jimmy was dead? How come he got to go home to his family tonight, and she
and Cody were totally on their own? How come he was so in control and together
while she was a sobbing mess?
The major turned a corner and disappeared from sight. She let
out the breath she realized she’d been holding as she watched him and sagged
back against the wall, drained by the brief encounter.
Good grief, she
was
a wreck
tonight. She usually didn’t let herself get this bitter. Everyone thought she
couldn’t hack it alone, and she’d be darned if they turned out to be right. She
didn’t know how she’d survive or how she’d save her son, but she would find a
way. Tomorrow. She’d figure something out.