The Soldier's Holiday Vow (3 page)

“I like it.” She tried to resist the pull of his kindness. “It's not saving the world.”

“There are many ways to save the world. Teaching kids to ride and show their horses, that's a good way for them to spend their time. Instead of some alternatives.”

“I've never thought of it that way. There are a lot of good life lessons in caring for a horse and establishing a trusting relationship.”

“Maybe that's where I went wrong in life. I didn't have a horse.” He winked at her, but she got the feeling he was covering up something that saddened him. He rose from the chair and swung it back into its original place. “Well, I don't want to take up more of your time. I'm glad you're doing well, that's what I had to know.”

“Thanks to you.” Her throat tightened, and if she didn't say it now, then she never would. “It was easier seeing you again this time, when I expected it.”

“You knew I would drop by?”

“Yes. It's something a man like you would do.” She blushed at the compliment she paid him, feeling uncomfortable and vulnerable when she didn't want to feel anything at all. “When we were in the mine and I first saw your face, I knew everything was going to be all right.”

“That has to do with you, September, the woman you are. I did my job, that's all.”

How she wished she could turn back time and work it so her life and Tim's could have turned out differently. She would give anything to fix what had been broken, both in her and for Hawk, as well. He'd lost one of his best friends, a friend he hadn't been able to protect.

She didn't know what to say to him as he crossed toward the door. A knock startled her. Her sister hurried into the room with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and gave Hawk a narrow look.

“And here I thought you would be bored waiting for me.” Chessie backtracked. “I didn't know you had a visitor. I can come back. I'm dying for a cup of tea.”

A seed of panic took root between September's ribs. Panic, because her sister had jumped to the wrong conclusion—that she and Hawk were interested in each other. Even the thought of opening herself up like that again terrified her. “No, stay.”

A little too abrupt, September, she told herself. Hawk had to have heard the sharpness in her tone. What was he thinking?

“No need.” His rich, buttery baritone rang reassuringly. “I'm on my way out. September, you take care now.”

“You, too, Hawk.” The words squeaked out of her throat.

His gaze fastened on hers, making the room and her sister's presence fade away. She saw something akin to her own wounds shadowed there, hiding in his eyes. Her pulse skyrocketed over the fact that she wanted something she no longer believed in.

“I hope you find that happy ending you always wanted. You deserve it, September.” His voice resonated with sincerity. Saying nothing more, he nodded in acknowledgment to her sister and strode from the room. The pad of his boots on the tile faded to silence, but his presence somehow remained.

“Good-looking guy.” Chessie poked her head around the door frame to get another look. “Who is he?”

“One of the Rangers from Fort Lewis who found Crystal and me.” She breathed a sigh of relief, troubled by the man and his shadows. At least he understood. He had his wounds, deeper and more severe than hers could ever have been. War could do that to a man.

“There was road construction. Sorry. I should have remembered, but you know me, too much on my mind.” Chessie plopped the duffel on the foot of the bed and unzipped it. “So, are you going to date him?”

“Date Hawk?” There was a picture she couldn't quite bring into focus. “Hardly.”

“I had to ask. You never know. Time heals all wounds. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but one day things will be better.”

“I'm sure you're right.” She didn't believe it, but she didn't want to drag her sister down. “Did you remember to bring shoes?”

“Are you kidding? There's nothing more important than shoes.” Chessie pulled a pair of snazzy boots from the bottom of the bag. “Ta-da. See, your big sister won't ever let you down.”

“You're one blessing I'm grateful for.” She smiled, trying too hard to find the normalcy her life had once been. It didn't work, but she hoped she looked as if it did. She feared she would always feel out of sync, as if she were looking at her own life through a foggy mirror. She thought of Hawk and wondered what he
was doing with his day off. She wondered how he managed to walk in the light with so many wounds in his soul.

 

Hawk strode through the automatic doors and into the blinding sunlight. The cool kiss of the mid-December breeze felt pleasant against his skin. He'd stopped by to see the little girl, Crystal, but she was in ICU and not taking any visitors. He'd met her mom, though, and learned that they expected to move her out onto a floor that afternoon. Things were looking up. He'd left a balloon bouquet with Patty, and that was that. He had no more reason to think about September Stevens. So, why was she on his mind?

It was a mystery. Loose ends, maybe, or just the fact that their paths had crossed. He hauled his bike key from his pocket, fiddling with it as he hiked toward the parking lot. If only he could have stayed away. Seeing her again tied him up in knots, and he was afraid to look at those tangled threads too closely.

He straddled his Harley and plugged in the key. While the engine rumbled, he hauled his helmet off the backrest and that's when he saw her. His gaze drew to her like fate. September, in a mandatory wheelchair, emerged from the automatic doors onto the concrete walkway, with his gardenias in her arms.

How pretty she looked. She wore a light pink T-shirt that said Ride for the Cure, jeans and black riding boots. Her softly bouncy hair shone like cinnamon in the sunshine. She was still as sweet as ever. She'd always
been delicate and kind, and not even life's hardships had changed that. He surely hoped that God had been watching over her specially, as he'd kept her in prayer. He would never forget seeing her after the funeral, an image of perfect grief. He'd been in awe of her. What would it be like to love so much? To have been loved like that?

He tugged on his helmet and yanked on the straps to secure them. Across the way, a light blue SUV crawled to a stop at the curb, and September's sister emerged from it. With a hurried gait, she started loading the flowers several hospital volunteers were carrying. They scolded September for standing and trying to help out. He spotted a few arrangements already in the back of the SUV.

He grabbed the grips and fed the engine. The bike gave a satisfying roar. Something kept him from leaving. Maybe it was the sight of September, pale and fragile with a bandage on her forehead and a pink cast on her left arm. Yep, that got to him. He couldn't hold back the pounding need to look after her. He wanted to be the one to take care of her. It wasn't a conscious choice. It simply came into being.

With one last look, he rolled the bike backward out of the parking space and released the clutch. The Harley shot forward, taking him away from September, but not from the thought of her.

C
hessie set the last vase of flowers in the middle of the breakfast bar and fussed with it, turning the vase to get it just right. “So, time to fess up. What's the deal?”

“About what?” September looked up from her position on the couch, sorting her mail. A surprising amount of junk had accumulated during the two days she'd been in the hospital.

“Not what. Who.” Satisfied with the way the flowers looked, Chessie dropped into one of the bar chairs. “What was Mark Hawkins really doing in your hospital room?”

“The obvious. Bringing flowers. Seeing how I was.”

“I didn't know you had anything to do with that life anymore.”

She meant army life. September sighed, remembering the tough time her sister had given her over her decision to date a Ranger and then accept his marriage proposal. She tossed a handful of advertisements into the paper-recycling bin. “I haven't seen Hawk since the funeral.”

“Talk about coincidences.”

“You have no idea.”

“Not a good coincidence.”

“No.” Her heart twisted hard, remembering how Hawk had changed. What had happened to him? “I'm trying to move on with my life, and it's not easy. Something always pops up to pull me back.” Something forced her to remember when life had been bright and her dreams shiny and new.

“He should know that. He should have left you alone.” Chessie, protective big sister, folded her arms across her chest. “Want me to talk to him?”

“No. He meant well. Besides, it's not like I'm going to see him again. As if. He will probably be TDY by the end of the week.”

“You mean on a tour of duty?” Chessie relaxed and propped her chin on her fists. “All right, I won't hunt him down. But that doesn't mean you're okay. You didn't need a reminder of your losses.”

“True.” She tossed a few more envelopes thick with coupons she would never need. “He looks hardened. No longer the carefree guy I remember.”

“War will do that, I suppose. It's his choice to do what he does, carrying a gun and shooting people with it.” Chessie had a strong opinion on that. She had strong opinions on just about everything. “Don't worry, I will stay off my soapbox, but what kind of man does that year after year?”

The kind who cares about others more than himself. September kept quiet. She wasn't up to any kind of
serious discussion about the rights and wrongs of war. Nor did she remind her sister that those words maligned Tim's memory. Tim who had died trying to save innocent embassy hostages. Hawk had been wounded on that mission, she remembered. The hows and whys were a mystery to her.

“I'm going to swing by and pick up some pizza. That ought to put a smile on your face.” Chessie slid off the chair and hooked her purse strap over her shoulder. “I'll get a dessert pizza, too. The Stevens girls are going to totally carb out.”

“Sounds just like what I need.” Comfort food all the way. She flung the last junk mail envelope into the bin. There, done with that chore. Not that there weren't a dozen more needing to be done around here. Clutter was accumulating. She needed to give her family room and kitchen area a serious going-over. Keeping busy would keep her mind off her troubles, right?

“What are you doing?” Chessie scolded from the doorway. “I see you getting up. You're going to do housework, aren't you?”

“Why do you say that like an accusation?” September swiped a stack of books off the coffee table and tucked them into the crook of her good arm. “I have pizza coupons you can use.”

“I have some in my car.” Chessie closed the door and crossed through the living room. “That's it, I'm calling for delivery. Someone needs to keep an eye on you. Now lie down. Do it now, or I'll make you.”

“This sounds exactly like my childhood,” she quipped,
reluctantly putting down the books. “No one can understand the hardship I went through as your sister.”

“Ha, ha.” Chessie tapped her foot, pointing to the arm of the couch where she'd propped two fluffy down pillows earlier. “Feet up. I mean it—”

The doorbell rang. She was saved. She kept her feet firmly on the hardwood floor. “Should I get that?”

“As if.” Chessie huffed out a frustrated sigh as she pivoted on her Mary Janes and marched through the town house. “You stay right where you are, sister dear. You just got out of the hospital and you're going to take care of yourself even if I have to—”

She opened the door and fell silent. Curious, September leaned forward far enough on the cushions to see a uniformed delivery dude holding pizza boxes.

“Got a delivery for Hawkins,” he announced.

“Hawkins?” That had her moving across the room. She was halfway to the door before she saw the black motorcycle pulling up to the curb out front. Hawk swung off his bike, unbuckling his helmet.

“I'll sign for it.” He slung his helmet over the backrest while the delivery guy handed Chessie the pizzas. The look on her sister's face wasn't a good one.

What was Hawk up to now? Why was he here? She hadn't recovered from seeing him in the hospital. She hadn't recovered from seeing him at all. Why did he have to show up looking so alive and vital?

“What aren't you telling me?” Chessie asked as they watched Hawk sign the charge slip with an efficient scribble.

“Not one thing.”

“I hope you're right. I'll take these to the kitchen.” Chessie tapped away, her tone cool.

The sunlight graced him, but he was a man who walked as if he did not notice. He'd turned grim over the last hard years, and his strong, granite face, which had always been quick to grin, was serious.

She held the door for him, watching as he strode up the walkway. She couldn't stop from caring. Well, not the serious kind of caring. What she felt was sympathy, she told herself, understanding for the man who had rescued her. Nothing more complicated than that.

“Hope you don't mind.” He slipped the receipt into his wallet. “I figured you wouldn't be up to cooking and your sister might appreciate a little help.”

“It was nice of you.” She didn't need to wonder if there was a deeper motive or a hidden agenda. He was a straightforward guy. She liked Hawk; she had always liked him, and why wouldn't she? He had been a good friend to Tim. He was a good man. That's what she would concentrate on and not the past, not the hurt. She pulled open the door a little wider in welcome. “Why don't you come in and have lunch with us?”

“I don't mean to impose. I wondered if there was anything I could do for you. Run some errands or something.” He crossed the threshold, towering over her. “I'm good at fetching.”

“Are you sure you don't have anything better to do?”

“Positive.” His humble grin reassured her.

He was merely being kind, the way Tim would have
wanted. That realization made her heart squeeze shut. There was the past, yawning wide open, full of everything she had lost. Best to pretend it wasn't there, a void between them. Dully, she let him take charge of the door and close it.

“I didn't know what kind of pizza you like,” he explained, “so I got a couple different combos.”

“It smells delicious. When it comes to pizza, I'm not picky. As long as it has a crust and cheese, I'm happy. Thanks, Hawk.”

“No problem. I'm glad to see you doing better.” He jammed his hands into his jean pockets, matching his stride to hers as they crossed through the living room. “You gave me a good scare when I first saw you in that mine.”

“I was pretty scared myself.” She ignored the look her sister gave her and reached up into the kitchen cabinets for three plates. “But it was only a few stitches.”

“Don't forget the surgery. What do you think you're doing?” Hawk sidled in behind her and took the plates before she could lift them from the shelf. “Go sit down. I'm thinking your sister will agree with me.”

“That's right,” Chessie answered curtly from across the room.

“I'm fine.” Sure, her arm hurt, but she wasn't about to be waited on. She could take care of herself.

“You had best stay off your feet, September. You need to heal.” His warm, caring baritone wrapped around her like a wool blanket, soothing and tender. Caring was in the layers of his voice, in the lines crinkling pleasantly at the corners of his eyes, in the space between them.

He really is a nice man, she thought. She simply had to be careful so the memories couldn't hurt her. So he couldn't hurt her. She slipped away from the counter and from him. “Nobody needs to worry about me. It was a hard fall, true, but I wasn't hurt like Crystal. Did you hear? She's doing better. I heard from her mom that she was already asking when she could go riding again.”

“That's a good sign. She's a trooper. I hope she's back in the saddle before long.”

“Me, too. You were great with her. I know all about your training, of course, but to see it in action, it was impressive.”

“Just your tax dollars at work.” He opened the box tops for Chessie, so she didn't have to put down her plate to dish up, but his gaze remained firmly on September. “You kept the girl alive until help came. You made a real difference.”

“I didn't do much, and you already said that earlier.”

“That doesn't make it less true.” He took the next plate, watching her carefully. “Ham and pineapple or the works?”

“A slice of both, please.” She was ashen, all the color drained from her cheeks, her wide brown eyes too big for her face. Had his presence done that to her? Or her ordeal? She looked fragile with her casted arm in a sling.

“I'll dish you up. Go ahead and sit down,” he told her. “Join your sister.”

She nodded once in acknowledgment, watching him closely with appreciation or caution, he couldn't tell which. Maybe a little bit of both. He chose the largest
slices and slid them onto her plate, aware of every step she took through the kitchen of granite counters and white cabinets to the seating arrangement in a sunny bay window nook. Her sister spoke to her in low tones, and the murmur of women's voices was a strange, musical sound he wasn't accustomed to. But he liked it. He was more used to the sound of plane engines, gunfire in the shooting range and barked orders rising above it all in a no-nonsense cadence.

He reached for the last plate and served himself two slices of the works. Why was he here? He couldn't quite say. He wanted to believe he'd come because Tim would have wanted him to make sure September was well.

That wasn't the whole of it. He had to be honest. He closed the tops to the pizza boxes and crossed over to the women. His boots knelled as loud as a jackhammer on her wood floor, or at least it felt that way because when the women looked up, their conversation silenced. One studied him with suspicion, the other with a hint of care. That surprised him. Her caring couldn't be personal. He'd never had the chance to know September much, it was hard to get to know any civilian with his job, but he knew she was gentle and kind to all she met—even to a guy like him. Emotion tugged within him, distant and unfamiliar, and he dismissed it. He was simply glad for the luxury of her company, that's all.

“The motorcycle is new,” she began after her sister said the blessing. “I didn't know you rode.”

“Since high school, but I sold my Honda after I enlisted.” He tried not to look at her. Maybe it would
make the unaccustomed feelings within him fade instead of live. “Last year I realized I missed riding, so I got another bike. I figured why not?”

Small talk. That's what this was. It was uncomfortable. Maybe he shouldn't have stayed, he thought, as he took his first bite of pizza. The taste of spicy sauce, cheese, dough and pepperoni ought to overpower everything he was feeling, but it didn't come close. He cared about her. He hadn't planned on it, but his feelings were there just the same. The threads knotted up inside him tightened; he didn't dare look at those hidden feelings.

“I had forgotten.” She set her pizza on her plate. The tiniest bite had been taken from the end of the slice. “You, Tim and his brother, Pierce, had dirt bikes when you were kids.”

“My mom didn't like the idea of me speeding around on the back of a motorized bike, as I was prone to getting hurt on the regular two-wheeled variety, but I didn't relent and she finally gave in. Tim, Pierce and me, we rode far and wide. I think at one point we knew every trail and old forgotten logging road in two national forests.”

“It sounds similar to how we grew up, right, Chessie?” September glanced across the table at her sister, and her look said,
Play nice.

He appreciated that. The table was a small round one, and that meant there wasn't much room between him and either lady. He could feel icy dislike radiating off September's sister like vapor off dry ice. The only thing worse was the awareness of September, how she was close, how
he wanted her to be closer. He wanted to comfort her. Even he could see that she'd hit a rough patch.