Until I Found You (13 page)

Something about fresh snow dared Nick to get in his truck and drive. Breakfast at Coyote Joe’s sounded good, so he
headed into Meadows on a route that would take him past the Clarion. When he spotted Leona’s Subaru, he veered into the parking lot with the intention of inviting Kate to have breakfast with him. Fluorescent light pressed through the window, but the door was locked and footsteps led to the back of the log building, where a vacant lot provided a short cut to a convenience store, the gas station, and the café.

Nick followed the trail around the corner and spotted Kate in the distance. He glanced down to avoid a rut in the path, and when he looked up, she was gone. Any second he expected her to appear, but she didn’t. Worried, he broke into a jog. “Hey, Kate? Where are you?”

“Over here.”

He swept his gaze to the right. Sagebrush had caught the blowing snow in an impromptu net, and the drift formed a sheet as blank as paper—except for Kate. Clad in a blue ski jacket and a knit cap, she was lying on her back in the middle of the drift, moving her arms and legs to make a snow angel.

“This is fun,” she said.

“You scared me to death.”

“Why?”

“I thought you’d fallen.”

“No.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief, maybe an invitation to play. “I saw the snow. It was so perfect and white, I had to touch it.”

When he offered both hands to help her up, she held tight and he pulled her to her feet. The snow angel stayed behind, perfectly formed and ready to fly. “Have you been out here long?”

“Just a few minutes.” Her gaze darted to the back of the office building. “My boss at Sutton called. He wants me back right now.”

“That’s . . . unexpected.”

“I’m kind of in shock.” Breathing a sigh, she kicked at the snow. “I was headed to the store for hot chocolate. Want to come?”

“Let’s have breakfast instead.” He hooked his arm around her waist and steered her down the untouched path. “Tell me about the call.”

“How much do you know about Eve Landon?”

“The actress?”

“Yes.”

“She’s famous. An Oscar winner. She’s made some good movies and some bad ones.” She had also been married five times to men ranging from Hollywood equals to a young no-name surfer dude, who wrote a tell-all book describing her as addicted to exercise, diet pills, and plastic surgery.

“She owns a spa in Beverly Hills,” Kate added.

He’d heard of it. “Eve’s Garden. It’s on the list for the
California Dreaming
series on wellness resorts.”

“So you know something about it.”

“A little.”

“A year ago she did a print campaign that focused on the West Coast. I was the lead.” Pride salted her voice. “At the time, Eve was opening new spas in ten cities. She planned to do a national campaign, but she changed her mind. Now she’s changed it back, and she wants me on the project.”

“And she’s in a hurry.”

“That’s right.”

They were close to the street now, though the line between the field and the asphalt road was invisible. Kate flicked a strand of hair away from her cheek. “I should be excited but I’m not. Leona still needs me, and I love it here. I love the
Clarion
. On the other hand, Sutton is a small agency, and I care about the people. An account like Eve’s Garden is the difference between survival and going out of business.”

“This is a game changer, isn’t it?”

“Definitely.”

They jaywalked across the empty street and passed through the double doors at Coyote Joe’s. A blast of heat melted the snow in his hair, and the aroma of bacon made his stomach growl. Kate tugged off the knit cap and finger-fluffed her hair. They both shed their coats and headed for a booth in the back of the sparsely filled restaurant. Mindy handed them menus, chatted a bit, and came back with hot chocolate and black coffee.

When she left with their orders, Kate pressed back in the booth and heaved a sigh. “I envy your faith.”

Nick barely masked his surprise. “You do?”

“I really do,” she admitted. “You’re always so steady, so grounded.”

He sipped the coffee, not caring that it burned his tongue. Snow angels and faith in the same day.
Lord, be with
her.
“I’m not all that grounded.” A dozen speeding tickets proved it, not to mention some of the stunts in
California for Real Men.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You told me about the night on Mount Abel, but how do you know—
really know
—that God is real?”

They were on a path Nick knew well. “Do you want the C. S. Lewis version, or the personal version?”

“Both.”

“The C. S. Lewis version says Christ was either a liar, a lunatic, or Lord. You can’t say He was simply a good and wise teacher, because His claim to be the Son of God is crazy . . . or true. I did a lot of reading after Mount Abel, and I’m convinced Jesus Christ came out of that grave alive, solely because there’s no other explanation. I could go into the history, the politics, the religious conflicts, even the mindset
of the disciples who had just lost a beloved leader. Either someone stole the body, or Christ came out of the grave.”

“Hmm,”
she said.

Nick blew on the coffee, sending ripples over the hot surface before he took a swallow.

Kate warmed her hands on the mug of hot chocolate, then drummed the sides with her fingernails. “So what’s the personal version?”

“My story started on Mount Abel, but it continued here in this restaurant when I stopped for breakfast and bought a copy of the
Clarion
. I saw an ad for an unfinished log cabin. It had a great view, so six hours later I made an offer.” The incomplete house had perfectly matched Nick’s incomplete journey. It had walls and a roof, plumbing, electricity, and appliances, but no carpet or paint, no character. The house was still a work in progress, and so was he. “It’s one of the best decisions of my life.”

Kate made another humming sound. “Leona would call that a ‘God thing.’”

“So would I.”

“What else?’

“Small things. Going to Sam’s church and hearing a sermon that resonates. A Bible verse that speaks personally.”

“I don’t mean to take away from what you’re saying, but I’ve had that reaction to fortune cookies.”

“It’s more than that.”

“I’m sure it is. It’s just . . . I don’t get it.”

He studied the tight line of her mouth, the slight narrowing of her eyes. Kate wanted something personal from God—something He’d already given. The hairs on her head were numbered; she was fearfully and wonderfully made and precious in His sight. But she didn’t know it.

Praying for the right words, he approached the subject
from another angle. “Maybe this says it better. For me, being a Christian is like having a wise friend close by, someone who knows me better than I know myself.”

“I want that,” she said with a hint of anger. “I just don’t think it’s possible. I don’t mean to imply your faith isn’t real—”

“It’s all right.” He enjoyed a good debate. “Considering I just told you I have an imaginary friend, I can see why you’d feel that way.”

“But God’s not imaginary to you.”

“No.”

Mindy arrived with their meals, and they dug into omelets and waffles with the hunger that comes from tramping a quarter-mile in the snow. While they ate, Kate told him more about her friendship with Eve Landon and how the actress encouraged her to live her dreams. She was scheduled to meet with Eve on Monday, after she had a sit-down with Roscoe, her friend Julie, and a market researcher named Brad. “I like Eve a lot,” Kate concluded. “But I’m dreading the drive. Do you think San Miguel Highway will be icy?”

“It’s hard to say.” The county plowed the road, but snow melted off the mountains during the day and froze at night. Nick didn’t think twice. “I’ll take you.”

“It’s too far.”

“Where’s Sutton?”

“West L.A.”

“It’s about a hundred miles.” Some commuters drove that distance every day. “What time is the first meeting?”

“Eleven.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Kate gazed at him from across the table with her chin tilted and her eyes shining. “Thank you, Nick. You’re a good friend . . . and you’re not imaginary.”

“No.”

He was definitely real, a flesh-and-blood man who experienced temptation of all different kinds.
Thank you, Lord, for
your grace, because I sure need it around Kate.

He paid the tab, and they walked hand in hand across the street to the field. When they reached the snow angel, Kate paused to look at it. Blowing snow had erased the bottom of the skirt, but the wings were still wide and reaching. Nick hoped she’d make another one, but she sighed and trudged on to the office.

O
n monday morning,
the National Weather Service issued a winter storm watch for the San Miguel Mountains. If the cold front moved down from the Gulf of Alaska as expected, snow would arrive at approximately seven p.m. and reach elevations as low as three-thousand feet. Kate heard the news just as she slipped into a pair of high heels she hadn’t worn in weeks. The details of the forecast were important, because the Tejon Pass on Interstate 5 topped out at 4,133 feet. If the snow level dropped as low as predicted, the interstate could close for several hours, even a couple of days.

Southern California wasn’t like Colorado, where road crews and residents were equipped for blizzards. Storms of this magnitude hit the area randomly. Some years there was no snow at all. Other years, storms rolled in one after another.

As Kate listened to the forecast on the radio, her hopes sank. She and Nick had planned the day to the minute—a visit to Sutton, the meeting with Eve, an early dinner with Julie and her husband, and a stop at her condo. Today’s trip already
meant doing double time at the Clarion tomorrow, and a big storm demanded a new front page. Even more worrisome, Kate didn’t want Leona to be alone in bad weather. She and Nick absolutely had to beat the storm back to Meadows.

Gearing up for a rush, she collected her things and went downstairs. Leona was at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal she had fixed herself. A lot had changed in the month since Leona’s homecoming. Kate still worried, but after discussing the matter with Leona, they agreed she could spend the day by herself as long as Dody called to check on her.

Leona had regained a substantial degree of physical ability, but now Kate felt paralyzed emotionally. Since Friday’s breakfast with Nick, she thought often about snow angels and imaginary friends. Did a person just decide to believe in God? Was that all it took? She didn’t know, but yesterday at church with Leona, she had sung “How Great Thou Art” with a new awareness. She wanted to talk to Leona about her changing perspective, but the conversation would have to wait for a more leisurely morning.

“Guh morn,” Leona nodded approvingly at the fuchsia-colored business suit that nipped in at the waist. “Pretty!”

“Thank you.” Kate poured coffee. “I’m worried.”

“Shnow?”

“Exactly.” She dropped down at the table and crossed her legs. “I’ll have to skip stopping at my condo.”

“Too blad.”

“Promise me you’ll call Dody if it starts to snow.”

Leona huffed. “I’ll be fine.”

“But Nonnie—”

“Kaaayt, honey . . .” In a slurred but rebellious sentence, Leona insisted she was perfectly capable of turning up the furnace and heating soup for supper.

Kate stifled a sigh, but her stomach knotted with dread.
Today was stressful enough without the added concern of Leona being alone in bad weather.

A knock sounded on the door. Nick walked in, his expression troubled. “Have you heard the weather report?”

“Yes, more snow.” She stood and gathered her things. “We have to get home tonight, so that means leaving L.A. by what? Three o’clock?”

“That would be smart,” he replied. “You know how bad traffic is.”

She could meet with Roscoe as planned, but she’d have to cancel dinner with Julie and hope Eve was on time for their two o’clock meeting. Telling herself to stay calm, she shared a glance with Nick. “I’ll make calls while you drive.”

“Sounds good.”

She gave Leona a kiss and a hug, then walked with Nick to the truck. He helped her up, and they took off for San Miguel Highway. Covered in frozen melt-off and built on the shady side of the mountain, the road was still icy from the last storm. Nick drove without a single skid or slip, but Kate’s pulse sped up with every curve. What if the truck lost traction? What if they went over the side or an oncoming car slid into them? She had no control, and neither did Nick. Not really.

They made it through San Miguel Canyon, but Kate couldn’t make herself relax. Cruising down I-5, she counted the miles and the minutes. She usually enjoyed the rolling hills and the glistening blue of Pyramid Lake, but today she felt powerless and small, except for having Nick at her side.

He must have sensed her mood, because he reached across the console and squeezed her hand. “We’ll leave Los Angeles whenever you say.”

“I just hope Eve doesn’t run late.” Kate tapped her toe on the floor mat. “She’s notorious for it.”

“Any chance she’d move up the meeting?”

“No. She has a commitment in the morning.”

“It could be tight.”

“I know,” she replied. “But we have to make it back. I can’t leave Maggie to cover the storm
and
rework the layout. Plus we have a pile of new ads.” Most of them were the result of the new banner.

Nick navigated through the San Fernando Valley, exited at Wilshire Boulevard and pulled into a six-story parking structure between two high-rises. They spiraled upward past a thousand cars, found a spot near the top, then took the elevator down to the street where cars rumbled and raced through an eight-lane intersection. The noise assaulted her ears, and the exhaust burned her nose. The rush felt like a tornado trying to lift her off her feet, so she grabbed Nick’s arm and held tight.

The sudden case of nerves made no sense. She had walked from her car to the office a thousand times, always with a confident step and usually with her phone to her ear. She didn’t need to look where she was going, because she knew every crack in the sidewalk. Nick tucked her against his side, but even having his arm tight around her waist failed to steady her as they waited for the traffic light to turn green.

When the signal finally changed to Walk, he matched his long steps to her shorter ones, and they crossed the street to the building that housed Sutton. The revolving door moved too fast; so did the people pushing the glass behind her, and she half-stumbled into the lobby.

Nick caught up and put his hand on her back. “City jitters?”

She groaned. “Does it show?”

“Just a little. Where are the elevators?”

She pointed to the right. “Around that corner.”

He led her to the block of elevators where they waded into the crowd. When a set of doors opened, he guided her
through the throng, and up they rode, stopping and starting, shifting places, saying nothing to anyone until they reached the sixteenth floor and stepped into an empty foyer. It was blessedly quiet, blessedly still.

A white marble bench sat against a white wall. Kate thought of the snowy field and the snow angel and turned to Nick. Instead of his usual cotton and denim, he was wearing slacks and a blazer that somehow turned his broad shoulders into wings as broad as the ones on the snow angel. In her mind, the snow angel flapped her wings and took off, leaving Kate in Nick’s care as they walked down the corridor to a heavy walnut door.

“This is it,” she said.

He turned the knob and held the door wide. Kate passed through with Nick behind her. After a quick hello to the receptionist, she led him into the heart of Sutton Advertising. Voices hummed in cubicles, and posters from past campaigns decorated the walls with ads for everything from running shoes to perfume. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked east to the Los Angeles smog and more tall buildings, not quite skyscrapers because of the threat of earthquakes, but they were imposing nonetheless. Laughter from the playpen—the place where the creatives hung out and played with products—caught Kate’s attention and she turned.

“Julie!”

Forgetting Nick, she scurried across the suite. Julie met her halfway and they hugged as if it had been years, not just weeks, since Kate had taken leave. They were still babbling and hugging when she turned back to Nick and introduced him to Julie.

He offered his hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

While the two of them chatted, Kate checked her watch. She had a few minutes before the meeting, so the three of them
ambled to the playpen. While she explained the purpose of the area to Nick, Julie signaled Tom Dawes, an accountant passing by with a bag from a donut shop. Chubby and nerdish, Tom joked more than the copywriters. Kate adored him.

He saw her and smiled wide. “Kate, it’s great to see you.”

“Same here.” Stepping closer to Nick, she laid a hand on his arm. “Tom, this is Nick Sheridan. He’s a friend from Meadows.”

Tom’s straight brows snapped upward. “Julie mentioned Kate knew you. You’re the guy who wrote that book.”

“The same.”

“Cool. I went scuba diving off Catalina a few months ago. Great trip.”

“It’s a good spot,” Nick replied. “If you’re into diving, check out Anacapa Island. The marine life is incredible.”

Kate glanced at Nick in surprise. A mention of
CFRM
usually put him on guard, but today he seemed pleased by Tom’s interest. She wanted to listen in, but Julie nudged her elbow. “Roscoe’s ready. Let’s go.”

Kate touched Nick’s arm again. “If you need anything—”

“I’m fine.” His eyes locked on to hers with a familiar confidence. “How are you? More relaxed?”

“Definitely. I just needed to get my bearings.” And now she had them. Sutton was home to her, and Nick had her back. What more did she need?

Nick watched Kate disappear into Roscoe’s office. She seemed to have the city jitters under control, an affliction he had experienced the first few times he’d ventured out of Meadows. Now, after six months of mountain quiet, he had the opposite reaction to noise and activity. The city invigorated him.

So did talking to Tom. It had been awhile since Nick had done a book signing or given a talk about
CFRM,
but he used to meet men like Tom all the time. They were middle-aged, worn down by life, and tired, but they were still men. They hungered for adventure and would fight bears to protect people they loved. At the same time, they were trapped by schedules and commutes, like the one he’d just made with Kate. A hundred years ago, a man could have galloped through the Mulholland Pass on a mustang with four legs instead of four tires. There was a reason car manufacturers used names like Cougar and Viper.

Most men craved adventure and purpose, and Tom was no different. The accountant eagerly shared his scuba stories and insisted on introducing Nick to his golf buddies. The time Nick spent waiting for Kate passed quickly with the men razzing each other about bad shots. No one joked about Chapter Fifteen and ways to meet women, an omission that pleased him. Maybe the good in the book outweighed the bad.

After an hour, Tom clapped him on the back. “Gotta go, man. But it was great to meet you.”

“Same here,” Nick replied.

“What are you working on now?”

“Another book.” Never mind the three rejections he’d received this week. He just needed to find the right agent and publisher.

“I hope it’s more
Real Men
stuff. How about going down in a shark cage?” Tom laughed a little maniacally. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“You’re crazier than I am.” Even Nick had his limits. Man-eating predators? No thanks. But his new book was daring in its own way, and he hoped Tom would be curious. “The new stuff is a lot different, but it’s still an adventure. My life took some crazy turns after
CFRM.”

“Like what?”

He was never quite sure where to start. “It’s about mistakes I made, things I wish I’d done differently.”

“Oh.” Tom’s eyes glazed a bit. “So no more skydiving?”

“Not right now.”

“Too bad. But I tell you what—” Tom’s friendly grin lifted the mood. “Swim with sharks and I’ll buy the book.” He offered his hand for a shake. “I have to get to work, but it’s been great talking to you.”

“Likewise,” Nick replied.

As Tom made his way to his office, Nick pondered the conversation. Maybe Ted Hawser was right. Maybe he should stick to the adventure stuff, even go down in that shark cage, but the idea left him cold rather than thrilled. The new book didn’t interest Tom, but that didn’t mean the story didn’t have a purpose. If the book pointed just one person to a life of faith, it was worth the personal pain that went into the writing and the disappointment that came with the rejections. As usual, he just needed to be patient.