Love Inspired March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Wife for Jacob\The Forest Ranger's Rescue\Alaskan Homecoming (26 page)

“I came to ask if I can pay you to work with Evie. To help her get past her trauma and start speaking again.” There! He'd said it. But maybe he shouldn't have blurted it out like that.

She quirked a brow in disbelief.

He hurried on, before she could say no. “I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate. You're the first person to get through to Evie. Even little Chrissy can't get her to talk. Evie's fine with the little girl, as long as I'm there with them. I've taken her to numerous specialists, but it's always the same. She won't talk. She won't do any schoolwork until she gets home with me. The only person she's ever reacted positively to is you. Something about you makes her happy. You make her feel safe.”

Jill hugged a tasseled pillow to her chest and stared at him, her eyes filled with confusion or disbelief, he wasn't sure which.

“Do you realize what you're asking me to do?” she said.

“Yes, I'm asking you to help rescue my daughter.” He spoke with conviction. If it was for himself, he never would have asked. But where Evie was concerned, he'd face a million forest-ranger haters, if it meant his daughter could be whole again.

Jill rubbed her chin briskly. A sure sign of exasperation. He expected her to say no and ask him to get out of her house and never come back. But then, she folded her arms across the pillow and looked down at the cream-colored carpet. Quiet and thoughtful.

He didn't speak. Didn't move or breathe. Afraid to upset her. Afraid she'd say no.

“You realize my helping you might cause a scandal in town. Everyone would be talking about it.” She said the words without looking up.

“Yes, but I figure it's none of their business. My daughter is too important for me to care what other people think.” He spoke softly, hoping she felt the same.

She faced him, her beautiful amber eyes locking with his. Everything about her tensed shoulders told him to go away. But in her eyes, he saw a blaze of empathy. And if she was the kind of woman he thought she was, she'd say yes. For Evie's sake.

“The employees down at the sawmill won't like it. Neither would my brother or mom,” she said.

“I understand that, but I wouldn't ask if it weren't critically important.”

In fact, he firmly believed that Evie's life and future happiness depended on this woman. Yet, he understood Jill's reticence. If personnel at the Forest Service office knew she was helping his daughter, they might talk, but they wouldn't care much. But for Jill, it was different. She'd grown up in this town. Most of her friends and family would disapprove. Even so, she didn't sound resentful, but rather mildly concerned. As though she were trying to figure out how to get around all of that nonsense. And that caused a small burgeoning of hope to rise within his chest.

“I wouldn't ask if I had any other options, Jill. I'm asking for Evie. Please. Help her.”

“Can you tell me a little more about her problem?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Normally, she's fine. But that day she bolted from the convenience store, a boy wearing a black Windbreaker had come inside and she panicked.”

“A black Windbreaker?”

“Yes, similar to the one the man was wearing the night he shot Lina, my wife.”

Jill took a deep inhale and let it go. “I think you'd better tell me the whole story.”

He hadn't expected this. He really didn't want to talk about it. But he also knew if Jill was going to be able to help Evie, she'd have to know everything.

He braced his hands along the cushioned armrests of the chair and squeezed tight. “I was fighting wildfire deep in the wilderness of Colorado when it happened. They sent me word that Lina had been killed, then evacuated me via helicopter. It took almost two days for me to arrive home. Two long days to reach Evie. By then, she was almost catatonic. Curled in a fetal position, her unblinking eyes staring straight ahead. It took weeks for her to even acknowledge me. Once she did, we settled into a routine, but she's never spoken a word since then.”

Jill winced. “And Evie watched her mother die?”

He nodded, the words shredding his heart into confetti. “She was with her mom when the convenience store was robbed. The thief was high on drugs and desperate for his next fix. He shot the sales clerk and Lina for no apparent reason. Evie hid behind the cash register counter, or he might have killed her, too.”

The story rattled Brent's nerves every time he thought about it. He'd almost lost everything that day. Thankfully, he still had Evie.

“Did the police catch the guy?” Jill asked, her lovely brows drawn together with compassion. From the stammer in her voice, Brent could tell the story upset her, too.

“Yes, the store had a camera and they caught him later that night. He's now in the state penitentiary, serving a life sentence. Unfortunately, that won't bring Lina back and Evie has never recovered.”

Neither had he, for that matter. “After all this time, I still can't believe a nineteen-year-old kid murdered my wife for seventy-three dollars in the cash register and a box of chocolate-covered doughnuts.”

“I'm so sorry, Brent.” Jill's eyes softened, her delicate forehead crinkled.

“Yeah, thanks.” He looked away, blinking his eyes fast. Wishing this woman didn't bring out these deep emotions in him. He'd never confided these things to anyone before. And he wished he could put aside what had happened in the past and move on and be happy again. But he couldn't. Not until Evie got better.

“How long has it been?” Jill asked.

“A year this month. Except for me, you're the first person Evie's shown any real emotion to since that time.”

“I see.” She looked away, her eyes wide and filled with sorrow.

“I've made you sad, and that wasn't my intention.”

“No, it's okay,” she reassured him. “I've heard a lot of sad stories with the other kids I work with. I must admit, Evie's situation is the worst. You understand I might not be able to help her.”

“Yes, I understand. But I'm hoping you'll try.” A spear of optimism lanced his chest. Jill hadn't said no. In fact, she sounded like she was actually contemplating saying yes.

Evie had bonded with Jill on some innate level Brent didn't understand. He felt the same, like an electric current humming between them. Perhaps it was because Jill had saved Evie. And in doing so, Jill had earned both his and Evie's trust. None of it made sense, but it did mean a lot. After all the therapy he'd dragged Evie to over the past year, she'd finally related to Jill. The person who had rescued her.

“I'm sure you've already taken her to a doctor or a psychologist, right?” Jill glanced at him but didn't quite meet his eyes.

He snorted. “Lots of them, actually. They tried their best, but I think they did Evie more harm than good. That's why I'm asking for your help.”

“I don't know, Brent...”

She didn't finish, but she didn't have to. He knew what she was thinking.

“You afraid everyone in town might think we're an item? Or just that we're conspiring against them?”

Her lovely mouth twitched and, for a moment, he thought she might crack a smile. “When you put it that way, it sounds kind of ridiculous.”

And irritating. He didn't want something as silly as social mores to stop her from helping Evie. “It sure does.”

She laughed and he stopped breathing. Her eyes sparkled, her face radiant and beautiful. He stared at her, enthralled. Then, he found his voice. “You should do that more often.”

Her smile faded.

“We could always tell them you're helping me because I'm your long-lost cousin,” he said.

She lifted her brows. “My cousin?”

“Yeah, from Topeka.”

She laughed again, the sound high and sweet. “You really aren't taking this very serious, are you?”

“Oh, I take it very seriously, believe me.”

She wore a mock-scolding frown, but he wasn't buying it. Maybe he was reading her wrong, but he thought she wanted to help. Fear of what people might say was holding her back. A huge roadblock to what he hoped to achieve.

“I'll pay any fee you ask. Just please, try to help my daughter,” he said.

She broke eye contact with him and studied a vase of daisies sitting in the middle of the coffee table. Fresh vacuum marks lined the carpet and the air smelled of furniture polish. The house looked tidy and comfy. He imagined that before Jill's father passed away, this was a happy home. Velma Crawford had told him Jill was recently divorced, and he realized she'd known a lot of sadness recently, just like him.

“Okay, I'll do it,” she finally said.

He sat up straight, his senses on high alert. “You mean it? Really?”

He couldn't prevent a mixture of hope and doubt from filling his voice. He didn't dare trust his ears.

She glanced at the doorway leading to the back of the house and he got the impression she was making sure her mother wasn't standing nearby listening. Then she spoke low. “Yes, I'll do the best I can. But I can't make any promises.”

He released a breathless laugh of relief. “I understand.”

She stood and walked to the door, signaling their interview was over. Taking her cue, he followed. She opened the door and stepped outside onto the front porch, speaking in a whisper. “Bring Evie to me at five-thirty each Monday, Wednesday and Friday evening. But don't bring her here to my mom's house. Take her around back to the stairs leading up to my apartment above the garage. That's where I'm staying. We can discuss some kind of fee later.”

He nodded, willing to build a rocket ship and fly it to the moon if it meant Evie might get better. “You got it. We'll be here. But just one more request.”

“And what's that?”

“No black Windbreakers or hoodies. When Evie sees one, she goes ballistic.”

Jill nodded. “Thanks for the warning. I think we'll be okay. I don't like black hoodies either. Is Evie still using her dry-erase board?”

He lifted one shoulder. “Now and then.”

“Ask her to use it whenever she wants something from you. Don't get her a glass of milk or anything else until she writes it down. I want her to get in the habit of asking you for help. That will build the necessity for her to speak. And have her bring the erase board with her for her lessons at my place.”

“Okay.”

She quickly gave him her cell phone number. “Call me if you need to cancel, or if Evie has a problem, or makes any kind of breakthrough, no matter how small. But don't ever call my mom's house. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Good. See you later.”

Without another word, she turned and closed the door. Interview over with. And standing there all alone, he blinked, feeling odd and yet strangely buoyant. In spite of everything standing between them, Jill had said yes. And all of a sudden, the world was filled with magnificent possibilities.

Chapter Six

O
n Monday morning, Jill arrived at the Forest Service office promptly at eight o'clock. She parked her car, then went inside where Martha directed her out back into the spacious yard. She wore a jacket over her old T-shirt. The kind that didn't matter if she got it dirty or ripped. She figured planting little trees wouldn't be a clean process and she didn't want to ruin her good clothes.

Standing on the back step, she took a moment to get her bearings. She'd rarely been back here, the main artery of the Forest Service office where all the action took place.

A tall chain-link fence surrounded several Forest Service trucks, fire engines and other vehicles, all parked in straight rows. From the open garage door, she could see a workbench and a variety of tools stored in upright bins and hooks. Everything in its place. Brent certainly ran a tidy shop.

To the left, corrals butted up against a large barn and sheds, each building painted white with green trim. She rested a hand against the leather gloves tucked into the waistband of her blue jeans and breathed in the musty scent of straw and horses. A smell she found familiar and pleasing. She'd never ridden much as a child, but she'd been raised in this town and many of her friends owned farm animals.

She didn't know what to expect today. Maybe it had been a mistake to ask to help. Working all morning with people who might resent her because of her family's sawmill wouldn't be much fun. Since he was the boss, she doubted Brent would be going with the work crew up on the mountain today. That thought brought her a modicum of ease, and also disappointment.

Drafts of sunlight filtered across the lean-to by the barn. Five men ranging from young to old and wearing Forest Service uniforms, milled about the graveled yard. They laughed and talked together as they packed buckets and tools into the back of two green trucks.

Jill took a deep breath to settle her nerves. She could do this. Be pleasant, work hard and it'd be over with soon enough.

Placing her baseball cap on her head, she pulled her long ponytail through the back opening. Somehow, it helped her feel insulated from the men's curious looks. Taking a deep breath, she stepped off the back porch and went to greet them.

“Good morning,” she called.

“Morning.” Grant Olson waved back, a burly man Jill recognized from church. She knew he was Brent's range specialist.

“Howdy.” A couple of other men nodded with tentative smiles.

Deep laughter came from the corrals. She turned, catching sight of Brent and a young man of perhaps nineteen years of age standing near a dun-colored horse. As usual, Brent wore his ranger's uniform. The brass shield pinned to his chest gleamed in the bright sunlight. A reminder of who he was and the difficulties he could press upon her family if he chose. Thank goodness he didn't seem to be a vindictive man.

She studied his strong profile. The intensity of his locked jaw and tall, athletic body. Without intending to, she had to do a double take.

“I was surprised to hear you were gonna help us today,” Grant said.

He didn't need to explain why. Jill understood. But she shrugged, brushing it off. “I just want to help.”

He grunted. “Well, that's a first. Usually you loggers avoid us like the plague.”

A dozen snippy retorts came to mind, but she bit her tongue instead. She didn't want any more contention in her life. But she still felt as though she didn't belong here.

Her gaze strayed to the corrals again. While the teenager fetched a can of oats, Brent wielded a pitchfork. He broke off two flakes from a bale of hay before spearing it into the feeding trough. His long-sleeved shirt tightened across his muscular back. It was several seconds before Jill realized she was staring. She scuffed a booted foot against the dirt, feeling nervous. She considered going inside and telling Martha she had to cancel today.

The horse lifted its head from the trough, chewing a mouthful of hay in serene detachment. Brent reached up and rubbed the animal's soft muzzle. He spoke low, and she wondered what he was saying to the horse. And she figured a man that was kind to animals couldn't be all that bad, even if he was the forest ranger.

“What can I do?” she asked Grant.

“You can load those into the truck.” Grant pointed at several shovels lying on the ground.

At the sound of their voices, Brent turned. She didn't acknowledge him, but felt his gaze resting on her like a leaden weight. She ignored him and picked up the hand tools. Out of her peripheral vision, she watched him open the corral gate, then latch it securely behind him. She laid the shovels in the truck bed, conscious of him walking toward her with that forest ranger swagger of confidence. Prickles of sensation rushed from the back of her neck and down her spine.

“Hi, Jill. Glad you could join us today.” His deep voice sounded cheerful, and she suspected it had something to do with her agreeing to work with Evie later that evening.

“Hello,” she returned.

She couldn't deny a desire to give back to nature after taking so much. Her family's mill harvested thousands of trees. Their contracts demanded they pay for contractors to plant new seedlings. It was a state law, after all. For every tree cut down, a new seedling must be planted in its place.

Unless the trees were stolen. No one paid for that except the taxpayers. And Jill hated the devastation she'd seen up on Cove Mountain that day she'd given Evie the dry-erase board. It wouldn't hurt Jill to help replant. And her efforts might go a long way toward soothing angry feelings with the Forest Service.

Jill tugged on her gloves and reached for a bucket filled with little ponderosa pine seedlings. She struggled to lift the heavy weight over to the truck. Muddy water sloshed over the edge. Brent took hold of the handle and lifted it for her.

“You'll hurt your back lifting heavy objects like that,” he advised.

She stood back and bristled, trying not to take offense. After all, the bucket had been hefty. “If you do my work for me, I won't be much help today.”

“Don't worry. There'll be plenty for you to do up on the mountain.”

His lips twitched, and something warm and mushy softened inside her chest. He was just trying to be helpful, and she decided not to take offense. “You're going with us, too?”

He must have sensed her reticence, because he showed a doubtful frown. “Today I am. The crew's almost finished with the planting and I need to check on their progress. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes, of course. You're the boss and can do whatever you want.” She spoke quickly, feeling rather foolish. Her pulse raced through her veins and her stomach swirled. She couldn't ignore this man, yet she couldn't quite let down her guard with him either.

Disregarding the chaos in her mind, she set to work, helping lift a large cooler of bottled water into the truck. Once they had everything loaded, Jill sat in the backseat, sandwiched between two young college students who were new summer employees. With five people along, conversation was easy. Jill didn't have to speak. She listened as the men discussed the Boise Hawks. The professional baseball team had taken the division title the year before. An avid fan, Brent hoped they could do it again. Hearing him talk about baseball made him seem so normal and masculine.

“What about you, Jill? Do you like the Hawks?” Sitting in the driver's seat, he looked in the rearview mirror at her.

“Yeah, sure I do. Who doesn't like the Hawks?” Actually, she rarely missed a game. Just one more thing they had in common.

Within an hour, they passed the cutblock where Jill's mill was cutting timber. Seeing the large logging trucks and heavy equipment moving across the landing zone gave her a modicum of peace. If Brent thought Alan was guilty of theft, he would have shut them down first thing. Which would stop mill production and lead to bankruptcy.

Another fifteen minutes, and they arrived at the site of desolation. Jill was pleasantly surprised to see that the work crew had already planted a considerable area of seedlings in the past few days since she was up here last.

Brent killed the engine and threw the door open wide. He got out and reached a hand to help Jill climb down. She hesitated, but then accepted his offer. During the drive here, she'd removed her gloves. She regretted that now as the feel of his warm fingers twined around hers. A strange, giddy sensation filled her chest.

“Thank you.” She pulled away the moment she was standing in the dirt.

“Have you ever planted seedlings before?” While they unloaded the equipment, Brent explained their work.

“No, I'm afraid not,” she said.

He reached up and lifted two buckets of seedlings out of the truck. “That's okay. It's not a complicated process. You'll pick it up fast. Until you get the hang of it, we can work as a team. One person digs the hole, the other person plants the seedling. You'll be my partner today.”

“Okay.” What else could she say? He was in charge and seemed so confident.

To keep from staring at his handsome face, she copied the other men and busied herself by tugging tools out of the truck and laying them in a neat pile at the side of the road.

“This is a dibble bar. It's what we use to dig the holes for planting bare-root tree seedlings.” Brent held up a strange-looking hand tool that incorporated a T-handle at the top of the bar and a straight, flat edge at the bottom.

Taking a bucket of seedlings with him, Brent walked over to the nearest row where the men resumed their planting. They spaced the seedlings apart every eight to ten feet.

“A picture is worth a thousand words. Watch what I do, and then I'll explain a few things to you,” he said.

She obediently watched while he thrust the straight edge of the dibble bar straight down to slice it into the damp earth. He then pushed the handle forward, to create a V-shape in the dirt.

He nodded at the bucket. “Can you grab one of those seedlings for me?”

She did so, ignoring the drip of murky water on her bare hands. A happy feeling thrummed through her as she got her fingers dirty. It felt good to be working with nature. She'd been cooped up inside her house and a stuffy office in Boise for too long. She needed this time off. To feel good again. To breathe in great drafts of cool mountain air.

“We don't want to plant a sick tree. It won't thrive. But this seedling is healthy. Notice the green color and soft bristles of the little branches?” He pointed as he spoke and she nodded.

Using a sharp pocket knife, he pruned off an inch of growth at the bottom of the roots.

“If the roots are longer than the hole, we'll end up with J-rooting, and the tree won't grow well. The roots must go straight down into the ground, with no curve at the bottom.” He nodded at the hole and handed the seedling back to her, his hand brushing against hers.

While he held the dibble bar, she placed the seedling into the hole.

“Pull it up just a bit so the top of the hole is even with the root collar of the seedling,” he instructed.

She tugged the miniature tree up a half inch. He brushed against her shoulder as he moved the dibble bar toward himself and then back toward the seedling, pulling dirt in around the roots. Then, he used the heel of his heavy boot to tamp dirt in, nice and firm.

“That will pack soil tight around the roots and get rid of any air pockets,” he said.

“Do we need to water the little tree?”

He shook his head. “Nope, the ground is damp enough. It'll be fine.”

She stared transfixed at the seedling planted happily in the ground. “That's sure an easy process.”

“It is. Not much to it. You want to do another?” He grinned and she thought he enjoyed this project as much as she did.

They worked for some time in companionable silence. Now and then, Brent advised her if something wasn't quite right. He reached around her, resting one hand lightly against the middle of her back. So gentle that it might have been a caress.

Looking up, she caught Grant watching them, a slight smile playing at the corners of his brusque mouth. Heat flooded her cheeks and she stepped away.

“That seedling doesn't have a clean, earthy smell. It stinks, which means its roots are probably rotting. And notice its little branches are starting to yellow?” Brent brushed his fingers across the bristles, which fell off and dusted the ground. He didn't seem to notice the other men watching them.

She crouched down on her haunches and quirked her brows up at him. “You think it's dying?”

“I do.” He handed her a healthy one.

She slid the roots into the ground, he tamped the dirt around the plant, and off they went. Time passed quickly, the buoyant voices of the other men filtering around her as they worked. By the time they'd planted all the seedlings they'd brought, Jill felt surprisingly light and carefree.

“You thirsty?” Brent offered her a bottle of water.

“Yes, thank you.” She popped the lid and gulped down half the liquid before taking a deep breath.

“Can you believe it'll take eighty years for these trees to mature?” He spoke between swallows as they stood side by side and inspected the area they'd planted.

“Yes, it's amazing,” she agreed, lifting her cap and wiping her forehead. “One day, when I'm a very old woman, I want to come up here and view all the trees I helped plant today.”

He smiled, looking askance at her. Without warning, he reached out and brushed aside a stray curl that had escaped her long ponytail. Then, he gave a quick tug on the brim of her baseball cap. An affectionate gesture that left her feeling suddenly shy.

“Me, too. I love my work as a ranger. There's no profession like it in the world. These ponderosa pines will put down deep roots. Some will grow to ninety feet tall before another ranger lets a sawmill come in and cut them down. And then the process will be repeated. That's how we manage our renewable resources.”