The Soldier's Holiday Vow (9 page)

“Come home with me and I'll feed you.” She opened General's gate. “It's the least I can do for making you ride for hours in the rain.”

“The pouring rain,” he corrected, leading the black gelding into his stall. “I'm wet to the skin. You might owe me two dinners. Better yet, maybe I should treat you.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“You're worried, right?”

“Just a tad. More like curious.”

“Nope, I'm not going to tell you. You will have to stay in suspense.” General dove into his feed trough. Hawk unclipped the lead and closed the gate. “Fine. I'll give you one hint. Noodles.”

“That isn't a help. A lot of foods have pasta in them.”

“True.” Trouble danced in his eyes. Definitely a man she was going to have to keep an eye on. He was too charming for his own good. She spoke to Comanche and led him two stalls down. “I could go for carbs.”

“Awesome. We are in perfect accord.”

“We are.” And it felt wonderful. The early conversation hadn't been forgotten—how could it be? Her great sadness about never loving again meant no children, no family of her own, which was a great weight she could not ignore. But Hawk didn't press her or try to talk her out of her decision, as everyone else had done.

No, instead of pointing out that she could adopt, or
go into foster care or that ten years from now, or even twenty, she could change her mind, Hawk had offered unspoken understanding and spent the rest of the day making her laugh.

Just as he was doing now. Noodles. Really. What kind of hint was that? There was an Italian restaurant not far away, on the main road. She could go for lasagna, not that she needed the calories.

He held the passenger door for her—since he had commandeered her keys and her pickup. The trailer was already unhitched, cleaned and stowed, which meant they were free to go and indulge in noodles.

“How long has it been since this truck has had any work done on it?” He settled behind the wheel and turned the key.

“The last time I could afford it.” She could tease, too. “I had an appointment, which I had to cancel because I was in the hospital.”

“Ah, that would explain things.” It took a few tries for the starter to catch. “You could use a new clutch, too.”

“It's on my list. I keep lists, too.” She reached for her seat belt, but he was quick enough to take the buckle from her and fasten it. Thoughtful, since it was harder to do with her hand in a cast.

“I am well aware of your list, beautiful.” He put the truck in gear and pulled into the gravel drive. Rain smeared the windshield faster than the wipers could keep up, but he drove with confidence and, apparently, eagle-eye vision. “You are keeping track of my faults. Have you made any additions?”

“Fearless driving. That's a flaw. There could be a cow in the road and you would never see it.”

“I would see it.” He oozed far too much confidence, but she believed him. Nor did he seem troubled by her comment. “What else?”

“You've become a good friend.”

“That's a fault?”

“Well, there's a downside. You will be heading back to places unknown, like Afghanistan.” She focused on the heater vent and adjusted it, although she clearly was looking for a distraction. “And then you will be an occasional e-mail, maybe a phone call now and then.”

“I always come back. We can hang when I'm in town, right?”

“Sure.”

“But it's not the same.” He got that—he understood a lot. Traffic was heavy and he waited at the crossroads. He wouldn't lie to himself. He was falling for her. He could try to fight with himself over it; he had more self-discipline than most. But he also knew he wasn't in control of this. These feelings were bigger and greater than anything he'd known before. There was no way to stop them.

“We can still spend time together, right?” He tossed that out after pulling into a lane of traffic.

“Sure. You probably go to a church near the post, but do you want to join me tomorrow?”

“Just try and stop me.” He signaled and pulled into a puddled driveway. The modest establishment's sign flashed cheerfully in the fading daylight. “What do you think?”

“This is a Thai place.”

“Right.”

“Noodles.” She laughed. Again. Yep, life was definitely better with Hawk around. Being with him made her world right.

 

Even when he was laughing, he was breaking inside. Through a shared meal and lively conversation, he stayed friendly and upbeat on the outside, but all he could think about was her confession she would never marry.

Never
was a big word. One that devastated him. He refused to let her know it as he paid the bill, walked her to the truck and helped her in. The rain had paused, with dampness like vapor in the air and the black clouds above promising another shower.

This was a one-way street, he realized as he pulled out of the lot. She sat beside him, backlit by streetlights, regaling a tale of a stubborn show pony, a little girl and a huge mud puddle in one of the riding fields. September glowed—there was no other word for it. Her humor, her personality, her being dazzled him.

“Comanche shook his head through it all, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.” Her laughter rang gently. “The pony wouldn't stop rolling. Little Hailey was covered in mud and crying—she got her new pink outfit dirty—and I comforted her while trying to get this pony to get up, which he wouldn't. It started to rain. It took three other people and two hours to get him back on his stubborn feet. I was still finding mud—under my fingernails, inside my boots—the next day.”

She probably had no idea how adorable she was. How she had him all but wrapped about her little finger. She had no notion he was falling hard and fast or how much being with her hurt him. It didn't take much to see a future with her—one just like this. With her bright and lively, charming him evermore with one stable tale or horse adventure after another. Always, he would be enthralled. That future could not be. She did not want to walk down that path with him. No, she preferred to be alone.

Lord, please send me a sign. What should I do?
He pulled into the park's lot and parked next to his truck. “I had fun today.”

“And helped a good cause.” Her hair had dried in the restaurant, into soft waves from the humidity. The spice-colored locks framed her face and made her look enchanting—someone far too whimsical and sweet to be real.

“Let me help.” He unsnapped her buckle for her.

“You are always doing that, always helping me.” She studied him with appreciation—a beautiful sight for him to see. At least he knew she cared. Not the way he needed her to and not anything like how he cared for her, but he would take it.

“I'm the kind of friend you can depend on.” Nearly killed him to say the word
friend
, but he meant the rest of it. He would always be there for her, come what may. Beyond duty, beyond devotion, even if she would never love him.

“I'll remind you of that come the next fund-raiser.” She didn't have a clue what he had meant or an inkling of what he felt.

That was all right. All that mattered was that she looked more like the woman he remembered, full of life and peaceful joy. When he handed over her truck and helped her behind the wheel, he didn't see anything more than friendship in her manner. It stung, but he knew she was giving him all she could. She thanked him again, gave him directions to the church and waved before she put the truck in gear and drove off.

She really had no idea. He watched her truck amble through the lot and hesitate on the main road. She turned left, toward home, taking his heart with her.

The rain returned as gently as if heaven had sent it. The future he saw with September was a wish that could not come true. Alone, battling defeat, he unlocked his truck and hopped behind the wheel. In some ways, it had been a tough day. He feared tomorrow having to be her friend—and nothing more—would be tougher.

T
he sanctuary buzzed with conversations and excitement in the moments before the organist started to play. September loved the old-fashioned church with its intricate carvings and plentiful cathedral-style stained-glass windows. Soft daylight made the colors glow as if divinely touched.

“You're looking chipper.” Chessie barreled down the row from the left-hand aisle and dropped into the pew beside her. She clutched the program and her big handbag. “How many times have I told you? You put in too many hours at the stables. A little downtime has done you a world of good.”

“I do feel more rested.” While being off work went against her grain, she liked staying busy and keeping active. But her big sister had a point. She had poured herself into her work and stayed at the stables long after her work hours were over because that had freed her from having to face her grief. Going home knowing there
would be no letter or e-mail waiting for her, or no chance Tim would call, had been too hard. It had been easier to stay occupied.

“I hope you have the good sense not to go back to work too soon.” Chessie, with evidence to support her argument, forged ahead. “You should stay home until the doctor takes your cast off.”

“I'm going back tomorrow.”

“To riding?” Chessie frowned. “You can't do that. What about your arm?”

“I don't ride with my arm. Besides, I did just fine on the benefit ride. Which reminds me. You owe me a check to the town's food bank.” She almost laughed when her sister's frown deepened. “Relax. I'm working in the office. You don't have to get so worked up.”

“I'm your sister. It's my job.” Chessie tucked her program aside, opened her purse and withdrew her wallet. Instead of writing a check, she stopped to glance around.

“Looking for someone?” It was so unlike Chessie, she had to ask.

“Not really.” She released the pen neatly tucked into her checkbook and uncapped it. Something had changed, though. September tried to figure out where her sister had been gazing—toward the front, where a knot of people were talking at the head of the aisle. One of them was a rather handsome man in a navy suit and tie. “Were you looking at that guy?”

“Me? Don't be silly. I don't look at men. That would be too forward.” Chessie's tone held just enough shock
that it could have been trying to cover up something else, like vulnerability, maybe embarrassment.

“He looks familiar. Who is he?” Curious now, she couldn't let it drop. The organ finished the last refrain and started the first notes of “Amazing Grace.”

“He used to live down the street from us. Jon Matthews. You might not remember him. He's back in town now. He took a job at a law firm in downtown Tacoma.” Chessie sounded casual as she tore off the check and handed it over. “He saw me in the parking lot and asked me to go with him to the church's New Year's Eve dinner.”

“Did you accept?”

“I told him I would think about it. I haven't seen him since his family moved away in high school, which means I hardly know him. He could have terrible habits and dreadful faults for all I know.” Chessie was hiding something.

Maybe a schoolgirl crush? Was she nursing affection for this man after so many years? September folded the check in half and slipped it into her purse. Her sister might be abrupt and forceful, but she had a tender heart. Her intentions were always the best. “Maybe you should say yes.”

“This, coming from you?” Chessie nearly dropped her pen. She tucked it back into the little holder inside her checkbook and zipped her purse. “The last time we had this discussion, oh, a month ago, you told me to avoid romance. It always lets a girl down.”

“Well, we are both children of divorce,” she pointed
out, maybe a little defensively because she had a feeling where her sis was going with this. “We are more realistic than most.”

“Sure, that must be it. So, why should I say yes? He might be one of those men who are controlling after they marry you. Maybe he has a gambling habit.”

“I see that smirk. Maybe he's a nice guy who would appreciate some good company for a Friday meal. How about that?” She squeezed her sister's hand. “I think you should go. He was a hunk in high school, and a kind guy. I'm sure he still is.”

“Okay. I will.” Chessie smiled, but it was short-lived. The church was more crowded, the pews mostly full, so it was simple to spot the brawny-shouldered man hiking up the right-hand aisle.

“Hawk.” Happiness swept through September, a pure streak of joy that, like a sudden flash of sunlight after being in the dark, felt almost too intense to bear. She tried to dial it down, reining in her emotions as she patted the space beside her. “Is that you? I hardly recognize you.”

“It's been awhile since I've put on a shirt and tie. The post's chapel is more casual.” He slipped into the row and dropped next to her. “You are lovely.”

“It's just a dress.” She flushed, unable to explain why his compliment affected her or why she was glad he thought she looked nice. “You remember my sister, of course.”

“Hi, Chessie.” He offered her his most charming smile, probably thinking that he would warm his sister's icy stare.

He would be wrong. Before September could say more the organ stilled, and their minister appeared, friendly and wise as always.

“Good morning, friends,” he greeted the congregation warmly.

“You and I have to talk,” Chessie whispered in her ear, and gave Hawk a pointed look.

Poor Hawk. He had to have caught it, but he remained respectfully unaware as he turned toward the altar. She wanted to say something reassuring to him and let him know how glad she was to see him again, but the minister called out to stand and join hands.

When Hawk's fingers caught hers and helped her to her feet, something happened. Life trickled into her wounded spirit like dawn after a bleak winter storm, like a promise of peace to come, of laughter and hope. He was doing this to her, drawing her out of the dark, helping her to feel.

Years ago, she and Hawk had been little more than acquaintances. Who would have guessed that the different roads they both walked would bring them here? It seemed like God's doing. She had been certain all her prayers went unanswered, but standing at Hawk's side in the sanctuary filled with light and reverence, she saw that God had been walking with her all along. She hadn't been able to feel it, but that didn't mean that God wasn't there. He was showing her that Tim's loss hadn't taken her heart. She could feel it beating again.

Thankful, she bowed her head and listened to the minister's voice lift in prayer.

 

“I'm glad to see that gutter is holding up.” Hawk paused on the front step to inspect the work he'd done. “Wouldn't want you to get mad at me for shoddy workmanship.”

“You? Shoddy? Not a chance.”

She stood in the doorway, beautiful even in the T-shirt and faded jeans she had changed into. He'd thought her amazing in the simple blue dress she'd worn, but he preferred this side of her—wholesome girl-next-door sweetness.

“I have to apologize for my sister,” she went on to say. “She isn't happy about our friendship the way I am.”

“I'm not out to break your heart.”

“Oh, I know.” She waved his concern away, as if she had no idea there was a deeper meaning to his comment. “She knows what I went through. She doesn't want me to hurt like that again.”

“Neither do I.” He understood what Chessie meant. He had been there, too. Twice—as a kid growing up, and the first time he'd spotted September on that dark mountain. No way could he tell her that Chessie was right on target. The older sister had been able to see what the younger could not. As hard as he tried to hide his affection, it had to show. When he smiled at her, his defenses were down, his soul on display.

He stepped inside, toolbox in hand. The mistletoe hung overhead like a beacon flashing, Remember the Kisses. As if he could possibly forget. That had been a special moment for him, but what had it been for September? The way she blushed and hurried by him sug
gested she remembered, too, and she wasn't eager for kiss number three.

He followed her into the kitchen. He'd been pretty devastated yesterday, up some of the night feeling too frustrated to sleep. But in church this morning her face had brightened when she'd spied him in the aisle. He had to wonder. Was he entirely alone in his affections? Was there a chance her feelings could change?

“I made you a sandwich in case you didn't grab lunch at your apartment.” She opened the refrigerator. “There's soda, butterscotch pudding, leftover Thai food from last night.”

He resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. He wanted to know what it would be like to hold her against his chest, she who was so very dear to him. He shook his head. “Later. I want to get going in the garage. What do you usually do on a Sunday afternoon?”

“After I've changed out of my church clothes, you mean?” She closed the fridge and leaned against it. She'd drawn her hair back into a ponytail, leaving wispy curls to tumble around her face and emphasizing the delicate cut of her high cheekbones. “You know what I do. I spend time with Comanche. I realize you don't have a lot of free time. So why are you doing this? You need to have some fun while you can.”

“Tinkering with cars is fun.”

She frowned at him playfully, as if she refused to believe him. “When is your next deployment?”

“Mid-January.” He pushed open what had to be the garage door—sure enough, it was—and searched for the
light switch. The last thing he wanted to see was the look on her face. “I'll be gone for six months. It's a limited thing, we think. I'll be back sometime in June.”

“So in other words, you are spending one of your last weekend afternoons replacing my truck's starter?”

“Like I said. Fun.” Light tumbled down on her pickup and her otherwise empty garage. This was, like everything, neat as a pin. That appealed to the Ranger in him. He set down the heavy box. “I'll be perfectly happy. If you trust me to stay here alone, why don't you head over to the stables? Give Comanche a howdy from me.”

“Oh, I cannot abandon you here. That's not right—”

“It is, if I say so.” He drew his keys from his pocket and pressed them into her hand. He was getting used to the sweep of affection that hit him like an undertow every time he was around her. “Take my truck. Go ahead.”

“I'm supposed to play while you work?”

“Like I said. Fun. Besides, won't Comanche be expecting you?” Overwhelmed by a richer tone of caring, he brushed back a silken curl from her face. Surprise flashed across her features, whether from his touch or his words, he didn't know. “You don't want to let him down.”

“No, but I don't want to let you down, either.”

That mattered to him. A lot. Maybe she cared more than he'd thought, more than she realized. “I'll be happier knowing you are doing what makes you happiest. Go on, get outta here. I want you to.”

She couldn't miss the tenderness in his tone. He probably should have tried harder to hide it, but that
wasn't his forte. He couldn't be sure, but she looked a little dazed as she nodded, his keys in hand.

“I'll be back later, then.” She retreated, walking backward through the kitchen. “I'll have my cell on me, so call if you need to.”

“Sure thing.” He fought images threatening to take over his brain—glimpses of a future with her hurrying off to the stables to ride or work. With him working on the trucks or on a honey-do list around the town house. Maybe even getting a horse of his own so they could spend Sunday afternoons riding the mountain foothills.

I want it so much, Lord. Is it possible? Or am I chasing after a dream I can't have?
The front door opened and closed. A few moments later his truck started outside on the driveway and powered away.

He popped the hood and got right to work sorting through the tools and getting out the ones he would need. He had to consider September's side of things. She wasn't ready to let anyone close, much less open her heart. Sure, he understood that. He was guilty of the same thing himself. It was why he'd spent most of his adult life alone, and his few girlfriends hadn't been around for long. He blamed his job, and that was part of it. It was tough to build a relationship when you were almost always apart and with half the globe separating you. But he had been at fault, too. He'd never let anyone close, not as he'd let September.

He'd opened himself up, and it had to be to the one woman who couldn't do the same. He grabbed the droplight and hung it on the upraised hood. He uncoiled the
power cord as he went, and knelt in front of the outlet. September had shut herself down to survive—surviving was something he knew about. In the heat of battle when a mission went south, you focused on shoring up your defenses, protecting your six and getting your men out alive. Losing wasn't an option, so that meant that you fought with all you had.

He figured that was how September did it. She had gotten this far in survival mode, but that was only good for so long. When the battle was over, when the turmoil was past, you had to deal and figure out a way to move on with what you learned along the way. He grabbed the drop cloth and gave it a shake to unfold it. He had learned long ago that it was his choices that defined a man, and what he fought for and stood for every step of the way.