Until I Found You (11 page)

Colton led the way to his mother and siblings, but Kate stopped Nick with a touch on his sleeve. “Who’s Sadie?”

“Colton’s dog. He needed some help getting her out from under the bed.”

“So you went into the house—”

“I was the first one here.” He aimed his thumb up the hill where light spilled through the curtainless windows marking his cabin. “I live right there. I saw fire shoot up the chimney and called the fire station.”

Kate laid her hand on his arm, lightly. “You have a knack for rescuing things—first me, now Colton and his dog.”

He didn’t want to be Kate’s hero, and tonight was the perfect time to set her straight about a few things. “When we’re done here, I’d like to talk. Can you stick around?”

“Definitely.” Her face lit up. “I hope it’s about buying the
Clarion
, because I get more nervous about it every day.”

“It is, at least in part.”

“Oh good.” She hesitated. “Or maybe not. It depends on what you want to do.”

“It’s good,” he told her. “But there’s something else. Let’s finish up here, then you can follow me to my place.”

Just like Moon Girl had followed Elvis, Kate thought. Only instead of dancing like Elvis, Nick stood two feet away with a formal air about him. Tonight’s talk would be all business, which is how he’d treated her since the kiss. That was fine, though she wished she knew why he felt compelled to remain so distant when they liked and respected each other. Stifling a sigh, she walked with him to join Colton and his family.
Nick interviewed Mindy, who put on a brave front in spite of the loss. She rented the house and had no insurance for her personal possessions.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Nick asked when he wrapped up the questions about the fire and how it started.

“I called a friend.” Pale and shell-shocked, Mindy gazed helplessly down the street. “She’ll be here any minute.”

Aching with sympathy, Kate made up her mind to use the
Clarion
to help the family get back on its feet, maybe with an Angel Tree at Christmas, where people in Meadows could join forces and shower the family with gifts to help restart their lives.

Mindy pulled the two smallest children even closer. They hadn’t budged during the conversation, but Colton had inched around to Nick’s side and was facing his mom. Mindy studied him now with tears in her eyes. “I’m just glad we’re all safe. But Colton—” Her voice rose to a shriek. “How could you stay inside? I love you so much . . .
You could have died!”

“Ah, Mom.” Frowning slightly, he patted the dog’s head. “What was I supposed to do? Let Sadie burn to death?”

“I don’t know!” Mindy wailed. “It’s just too much.”

“Be proud of him,” Nick interrupted. “Colton took a calculated risk for something he loves. It’s what men do.”

Some people ran to danger; others ran from it. Kate was firmly in the second camp and understood Mindy in her marrow. Nick was in the first camp and on Colton’s side. She couldn’t imagine living in his skin right now, being coated with soot and reeking of smoke, but she admired him tremendously. He truly cared more about others than about himself.

A few quiet words passed between Nick and Colton, then Mindy’s friend arrived with the promise of clean clothes and soft beds. Everyone said good-bye. Kate and Nick went to their respective vehicles, and she followed Nick up the hill to
his house, a two-story log cabin that reminded her of a fort in a John Wayne western.

She parked behind his truck, then walked with him into a living area dominated by a river-rock fireplace, a cathedral ceiling, and massive windows overlooking a canyon. An oversized sofa faced the hearth, oak cabinets housed electronics, and an open staircase led to a balcony in front of doors that presumably led to bedrooms. Not everything in the house was complete. The plywood floors needed hardwood or carpet, and the dining area was just drywall. The house captured Nick’s personality to a T—casual yet efficient, classy but rugged in an unfinished sort of way.

“I like your house,” she told him.

“Thanks. It’s a work in progress.” He turned up the thermostat. “It’ll warm up in a few minutes.” He told her to have a seat, gave her a bottled water, and excused himself to wash off the smoke and soot. While he was upstairs, Kate fingered through the magazines on the coffee table. Print journalism might be dying, but the covers of
California Dreaming
were gorgeous. She picked up an issue and skimmed an article Nick had written about a resort in Palm Springs, a place that competed with Eve’s Garden. As she flipped through the pages, ideas for Eve’s national campaign danced in her mind. She looked forward to returning to Sutton, but she’d miss Meadows terribly. Nick, too.

He trotted down the stairs, his hair slicked back and a fresh cotton shirt sticking to his shoulders. After fetching another bottled water from the fridge, he dropped down on the big chair at right angles to the couch, took a swig, and blew out a breath. “What a night. It’s a tough way to get a front-page story.”

Kate set the magazine back on the table. They talked about the fire, how best to cover it, and decided to do a secondary
feature on chimney fires in general and how to prevent them. Kate loved this aspect of journalism, where reporting the news helped people avoid tragic mistakes. The Angel Tree plan appealed to Nick as much as it did to her, and they batted around ideas on how to publicize it. When the conversation lulled, she steered them to the main reason she’d come to his house. “I’m glad you’re interested in buying the
Clarion
.”

“I am,” he replied. “But before we talk about the paper, we have something personal to sort out. I want to tell you why I don’t date.”

Kate’s brows shot up. “I have to admit, I’m curious.”

“It’s a miserable story that begins with
California for Real
Men.
” He set the water bottle on a round coaster, being careful of the edges so it didn’t tip. “You can imagine the lifestyle . . . a different city every week, a lot of drinking, hanging out at clubs.”

“I understand.”
Eat
, drink, for tomorrow we die.
Kate gave a little shrug. “A lot of people live that way.”

He looked her square in the eye. “I regret it. Big time.”

“Why?”

“Because someone paid for it.”

Kate could only imagine what had happened: a fatal DUI, a broken female heart, a suicide. Her imagination painted grim pictures until she finally asked, “What happened?”

He drummed his fingers on the armrest. The upholstery silenced the beat but not the tightness of his voice. “The book had been out awhile, and sometimes people recognized my name. I was doing some hang-gliding in Big Sur when I met a woman who saw life like I did at the time. She was a waitress in Santa Cruz, and we had a weekend fling. Monday came, and we said good-bye as casually as strangers on a plane. You know how that is. You talk and share stories. For that brief time, you’re best friends but you expect to say good-bye.”

“I understand.” She had known Joel longer, but their parting had been just as predictable.

“I didn’t call her, didn’t text. Nothing. Frankly, I didn’t like her that much. I had no idea she’d gotten pregnant until a year later when she sued for paternity.”

Kate’s heart ached for him. “Did you do a DNA test?”

“Of course.”

So he had a child. “Oh, Nick—”

“Let me finish—”

“You’re a father.”

“No.” His flat stare alarmed her. “The baby died. She was born with a hole in her heart. The doctors tried everything—drugs first, then surgery. She lived for twenty-six days. I never saw her, never held her. I just know she suffered.”

An unwanted pregnancy . . . an accident. Kate ached for him. “I’m sure you took precautions.” She meant birth control.

“Of course. But as we both know, accidents happen.” He stared at the cold fireplace for the span of a breath, then turned to her, slowly, with his eyes glittering and bright. “The problem is, I can’t call my daughter an accident. As short as it was, her life had a purpose. She changed me for the better.”

Kate saw no benefit at all—not to the baby, the mother, or Nick. She saw only nature at work, a random meeting of cells, and misplaced guilt. Before the evening ended, she hoped Nick would set that guilt aside, because she saw no reason for a good man to punish himself simply for being human.

T
here were a lot
of ways
for Nick to tell Kate about his faith. Some were direct—
I became a Christian.
Others were formal—
I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior.
Others were a child’s cry—
Jesus loves me.
They all rang true, and they all fell short. To make Kate understand, he needed to take her on the journey itself, at least in her mind. That meant starting in the attorney’s office and the day he signed the settlement agreement.

“I didn’t fight the paternity suit,” he told her. “The DNA was definitive, and the mother just wanted help with the bills not covered by insurance. We never did speak. It wasn’t until I signed the agreement that I saw the baby’s name—Sophia Charlotte.”

“It’s pretty,” Kate said.

“It is, and I had nothing to do with picking it.” The name had no meaning to him, no history or family ties. “That’s when I realized what I’d actually done. I’d abandoned Sophia Charlotte at conception.”

Kate’s brows slashed together. “But you didn’t know about her.”

“That’s no excuse. I slept with her mother, and I know where babies come from.” No way could he plead ignorance. He also knew full well that Sophia might not be his only responsibility. Someday a teenage boy as troubled as Colton could knock on his door and demand answers.

“What did you do after that?” Kate asked.

“I went numb.” Inwardly he shuddered. “I could have been at the DMV for all I felt at that moment. Sophia was just a name. I honestly didn’t care about anything at that point . . . except somehow I cared that I didn’t care.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense—”

“Oh, but it does!”

“Yeah?”

“It’s like wanting something but not knowing what.” She paused for a moment. “Somewhere deep inside, we all want joy and we’re always looking for it. If we don’t find it, we hurt. And when we hurt, we want to be numb.”

His pulse sped up, because Kate understood the human soul the same way he did. She was seeking God, even if she didn’t know it. “That says it.”

“What did you do next?”

“Fired up the bike, took off up the coast. I had a vague notion of visiting Sophia’s grave, but the fog rolled in near Santa Maria so I veered inland. Have you been on Highway 166?”

“It connects the San Joaquin Valley to the coast.” A faint smile played on the corners of her mouth. “I remember driving it with Leona and Grandpa Alex for a trip to Pismo Beach. It was boring and scary at the same time.”

“Then you know what it’s like.”

“It’s . . . empty.”

He pictured the valley as if he were on the bike, speeding past alkali-rimmed duck ponds and rusted farm equipment abandoned in parched fields. Oil derricks with pointy heads
had reminded him of dead crows, and he’d seen more than one abandoned barn turning to splinters. That valley had whispered to him like a friend.
This is who you are—a dying man in a
valley of dry bones.

“Nick?”

“Sorry. I was remembering.” Her voice jarred him back to the present, but his nerves prickled as if he were speeding aimlessly on the bike. “The numbness started to wear off halfway through the valley. You know the feeling when your foot’s asleep and the blood rushes back?”

“Yes, of course.”

“That’s what it was like, except the burning was soul deep, and it didn’t let up. I couldn’t stand it, so I cranked the throttle full out.”

Her brow furrowed. “How fast did you go?”

“Too fast.” Over a hundred miles an hour, maybe faster. “I didn’t slow down until I reached the west end of San Miguel Highway. The mountains offered a change of scenery, so I made the turn and ended up on Mount Abel.”

“It must have been a relief.”

“At first, yes.”

“But not completely?”

His chair felt like the witness stand in a courtroom, where he had to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help him God. “It was a beautiful day, so I left the bike in the campground and hiked to the summit. I figured I’d watch the sunset, then head back to L.A. But that didn’t happen. I couldn’t stop looking around. The sky was so blue it glowed, and the grass was neon green. Daffodils were everywhere—pure yellow like the ones I planted for Leona.”

“It must have been beautiful.”

“It was. But what I experienced went beyond a pretty day or a beautiful view. Everywhere I turned, I saw . . . life.”

“That sounds amazing.”

Slightly more relaxed, he inhaled through his nose as if smelling the mountain air. “On a clear day, you can see the ocean more than fifty miles away. I stood for a long time just watching the sun sink below the horizon. It looked like an orange cut in half, all bright and glistening, and the water . . . it shimmered like gold. What I felt can only be described as joy, yet at the same time, I felt utterly, completely insignificant.”

“That’s—” Kate pressed one hand to her chest. “It makes my heart hurt.”

“Mine, too,” he admitted. “Looking back, what I saw was a pinprick of God’s glory. Without knowing it, that’s when I started to pray.”

His words soaked into Kate’s mind, changing her perception of Nick entirely. “Are you a Christian?”

“I am now.”

“Wow.” She didn’t know what else to say.

A half smile played on his lips. “That says it, but I didn’t think
Wow
at the time. I was pretty shaken up.”

“What did you do?”

“I watched the sun disappear, stared at the stars, and finally went to the campground where I found a space with some leftover firewood. Somehow I knew I couldn’t leave until I figured out what had happened. My leather jacket was warm enough with a fire, so I sat on a rock and stared at the flames. If the sunset was all beauty and joy, the night was cold, empty, and dark.”

“I can imagine.”

“I hope not.” His pupils flared into black discs. “That night was awful. I don’t know how to describe the emptiness that came when the fire died, except it was like one of those old
astronaut movies, where the tether breaks and a man floats away in the dark—alone, suffocating, afraid.”

Kate could hardly breathe, because she knew how that astronaut felt. The moments in the BMW would haunt her forever. “How did you stand it?”

“I didn’t.” A twist of his mouth gave him a wry look. “I called my brother and cried like a baby. He’s a minister.”

“So he helped you decide about God.”

“Mostly he listened. When everything was said and done, the decision was mine. I have to admit, it was hard to say the words:
Lord, forgive me for my sins.
But when I did, the weight lifted. It was all rather strange and mystical. Emotional, too.” He gave a shake of his head. “All that drama isn’t my style. I like to know how things work, to take them apart and put them back together, so I started reading the Bible and books by famous theologians.”

That approach sounded just like Nick. “Okay,” she said. “I understand you’re a Christian now. But you’re still human.”
And lonely
sometimes, like I am.

“Yes. Definitely.”

“So why not date women who share your faith?”

He paused a moment, silent, but with his thoughts showing like leaves blowing in an invisible wind. Finally he gave a last drumroll of his fingers. “Something deep and internal shifted in me that first night, but old thoughts and habits didn’t just disappear. I needed to make a big change, so I took a year off to switch gears—a social sabbatical if you will. It started seven months ago.”

“So no dating until—” She did a quick count. “April?”

“April ninth is the official date, but God already made His point.” A self-deprecating smile softened his mouth but not the intensity of his gaze. “I’ve learned some things in the past few months. There’s a lot to be said for building a friendship
before jumping into something more complicated. I think we both know what I’m talking about.”

His eyes lasered to hers, and for that moment they were back in the condor blind, lost in each other, wanting to kiss but a little afraid of the unknown. Just a few feet separated them, but a chasm of another kind opened up like a fissure in the earth. Nick had his eyes on the future; Kate lived for the moment. As a Christian he probably believed marriage was meant to last a lifetime; Kate had her doubts. She also had a career she loved—one that fulfilled her the way Nick’s faith fulfilled him, though she loved Meadows, too.

The silence crackled until he broke it with a smile. “So,” he said, “we’re officially friends. And maybe business partners if you like my idea for the
Clarion.
”

“Oh.” She was still thinking about her feelings for him. Nick did that to her. He made her forget who she was. “What’s your idea?”

“I’m interested in buying it, but we all need to be comfortable with the decision. What would you say to a practice run? When you go back to Sutton in January, I’ll take over as editor. If it’s not a good fit, I’ll stick around until you find a buyer.”

Kate clasped her hands over her chest and squeezed. “That would be perfect. The Eve’s Garden account is on hold for a while, but I’m eager to get back. You know how it is, if you don’t stay in front, you get behind. You’re doing me a huge favor.”

“Good,” he replied. “So it’s settled—”

“Not quite. You do so much, you should be on the payroll even now. Unfortunately, money’s tight.” Advertising was down from last year, but staff salaries still had to be paid, and Leona needed her regular draw. Kate didn’t take a paycheck. She considered herself Leona’s right arm, but Nick deserved an honest wage. She offered an amount she hoped wasn’t insulting.

He dismissed the offer with a flick of his hand. “Let’s not worry about it until January. Until then, I’ll help out like I do now. I have some trips planned for
California Dreaming
, so it’s better if I’m not locked into a schedule just yet.”

Kate slouched contentedly against the back of the couch. “This is amazing. An hour ago I was worried sick about what to do, and now we have a plan. Thank you, Nick. You did it again.”

“Did what?”

She let her eyes twinkle. “You rode to the rescue—not on a white horse or even on the Harley, but you saved me from a disaster just the same.” Her heart gave a little flutter, and for a blink she longed to be the princess of her childhood dreams, not a busy woman with conflicting obligations.

“This is mutual,” he said, reassuring her. “A trial period is good for me, too, especially while I query agents about the second book.”

“Someone will buy it. You have a track record.”

“We’ll see.” A frown clouded his eyes, then he swallowed hard enough for his Adam’s apple to twitch. “I sent ten queries less than a week ago, and already four agents have passed. I’m disappointed, but it takes time.”

“Of course, it does.”

“It’s a good story,” he said, maybe more to himself than to her. “But it’s a tough business. I’m glad to try out running a newspaper.”

“I’m glad, too.” Her heart stumbled with the longing to say more, to tell him she believed in him and was honored to hear about his past, but where did they go from here, except to uncharted territory? She didn’t believe in forever. She wasn’t sure she believed in God at all, but she knew one thing with certainty. She trusted Nick more than any man she’d ever known. The thought warmed her to her toes, but
those feelings were unwise in light of his vow as well as her intention to return to Sutton.

“I better go,” she said, pushing to her feet. “Dody’s with Leona, and it’s been a long day.”

Nick stood with her and they ambled to her car, neither of them quite ready to end the evening. When they reached the Subaru, he opened the door. She started to climb in, turned to say good-bye and found herself staring into his eyes. Moonlight glinted on his angular face, deepening the shadows around his mouth and nose.

“Good night,” he murmured. “Thanks for listening.”

Her pulse thrummed with awareness of the half tilt of his mouth, his head above hers, the width of his shoulders. The thought of a kiss added to the rush in her blood, but mostly she cared about him—as a friend first, but somewhere deep inside, she wanted to know and be known by him. She yearned for the internal peace he’d described, but it was as elusive as a condor. Swallowing back the longing, she managed a smile. “I’m glad we’re friends.”