Winter Reunion (Aspen Creek Crossroads Book 1)

by Roxanne Rustand

  Startled, she stared at him. “You’re not serious.”

  “I mean it. There’s a maid’s apartment on the third floor that isn’t in use. Or there are some sofas on the main floor.”

  She smiled at him. “I have a security system—not that I expect it will ever earn its keep. If someone breaks in, the police are summoned unless I press a code on the keypad.”

  “But it’s an understaffed department that could be occupied by a fender bender or a cat up a tree. And if you don’t have a good security system, an expert can get in anyway.”

  “I’m not staying at Sloane House. The idea is ridiculous.”

  He gave a long sigh. “When did you become this stubborn?”

  “When did you become such a guardian angel?” she countered. Looking up at him, she realized that all of this was because he cared for her still. And suddenly she had the oddest sensation that he wanted to kiss her. Where was that coming from?

  He gave her a fierce hug, then stepped away, only to bend down to drop a swift kiss on her mouth. And from the dazed look in his eyes, he was nearly as surprised as she was.

  She’d looked up at him wide-eyed and dazed, and he knew his impulsive, possessive kiss had rattled her more than any prospect of an intruder.

  He hadn’t meant to do it. He didn’t have the right. But something about her living out here alone and defenseless had triggered a primitive, protective instinct deep inside him, and it had taken all his willpower to step away before he kissed her again.

  “Maybe you’d better go,” she whispered.

  He dutifully took another step away from her. “I can check out your store and apartment while you wait here,” he offered, not quite ready to just climb behind the wheel of his Jeep and drive away.

  “If anyone got through those doors while I was gone, the police would already be here. Believe me.” She sighed. “But okay. Come up and check things out if it’ll make you feel better, but then you’ll have to go.”

  “Of course.”

  She unlocked the door leading to the upstairs and ushered him on ahead of her. When he reached the upper floor and opened the door, he drew in a slow breath. “This is nice, Beth.”

  A subdued, stained-glass chandelier hung over the kitchen table, bathing the area in warm golden light.

  An inviting, deep plush sofa and love seat in dark cranberry were angled toward a small fireplace, with lush green plants sitting on windowsills and oil paintings of the Rockies adorning the wall space not filled with bookshelves.

  The place felt warm, cozy and inviting, unlike the overly feminine touches at Sloane House that made him leery of sitting on fragile chairs.

  Here, in Beth’s tidy kitchen, the oak cabinets, marble countertops and expanse of windows were probably even more beautiful during the day with sunshine streaming inside and everything so neatly cleared of clutter.

  Though taped to the refrigerator was something oddly out of place—a layout for some sort of a building, sketched in detail…with cross-outs and arrows, and notes at all angles.

  But that’s not your business. Nothing in Beth’s personal life is your business anymore.

  He jerked his attention back to his mission and took a quick tour through the apartment, then met her at the entryway. “Looks good. But don’t forget—I’d be happy to come any time, if you’re worried about anything.”

  She smiled. “I really appreciate your concern. But I’m a big girl now. Not the shy little thing you married all those years ago.”

  “No, I guess not. About that…”

  She shook her head. “Over and done with.” She opened the door to the stairway, hesitated, then turned and brushed a quick kiss against his check. “Thanks, Dev. I appreciate it.”

  And when she shut the door behind him, she took a piece of his heart with her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  With Dev’s permission, Beth lent his late mother’s car to Elana, and insisted that she drive to and from her jobs at the motel and bookstore, and when she took Cody to school.

  Dev, bless his heart, had become something of a private guardian, driving past the bookstore after dark, perhaps coming by more times than she even knew. With both the loaner car and his reassuring presence, Elana seemed to gain confidence with every passing day.

  In the process of working with the residents of Sloane House, Dev and Beth had both ended up at the house for several casual lunches with whoever happened to be home at the time. There’d been no mention of that kiss or warm embrace, though the memory hung between them like a minefield, and they tiptoed through every encounter, polite and formal and businesslike.

  But today, with the town’s Fall Harvest Festival in full swing for the entire weekend, there’d be little time for leisurely talks over sandwiches and coffee.

  Beth surveyed the bookstore and smiled. “You’ve been a wonderful help, Elana. I think we’re ready, don’t you?”

  Pumpkin-scented candles on candle warmers were placed strategically high, away from the reach of toddlers and the grade-school finger-dippers who wanted to play with the fragrant, melted wax.

  Arrangements of fall leaves and chrysanthemums graced the larger tables and the front counter, where separate bowls of Halloween-decorated cookies and pumpkin-shaped homemade dog biscuits—unfrosted, so there’d be no confusion as to which was which—awaited the crowd of tourists who came to Aspen Creek for the weekend festivities.

  Elana leaned over the fall-themed display in the front bay window to look out at the booths lining the streets, and the growing crowd. “It is fortunate to have such a sunny Saturday. It should be a very big day, yes?”

  “I hope so. All of us are offering big sales, and the newspaper and radio ads in the Twin Cities should bring traffic our way. I hear the B and B’s and motels are all full.”

  Elana leaned farther on her braced hands, until her nose practically touched the glass. “There is a very big crowd in front of Dev’s store.”

  Beth joined her at the window and felt a thrill of excitement over the gathering of people at that end of the block. “It looks like it’s quite a hit.”

  Though only a sampling of the stock had arrived and the display units and shelving weren’t completely in, he and Frank had put up colorful posters inside to advertise the type of stock and services that were yet to come.

  Four kayaks had come, though, in a brilliant rainbow of colors, and were displayed out in front, just as he’d first envisioned.

  “Well,” Beth said, taking a deep breath. “It’s ten o’clock and time to open the doors. Are you ready?”

  Her dark eyes shining, Elana nodded. “I think this will be a day to remember.”

  When he’d first heard the details of his mother’s will, Dev had imagined six long months of responsibility while playing nursemaid to a houseful of faceless old folks who probably needed a higher level of care.

  He’d been here a full month, and his perception had changed a hundred-eighty degrees, challenging every single day his original plan to stay emotionally distant until he could finally escape.

  Cody had become his shadow.

  Frank, with his strong organizational skills, had been teaching Dev about running a business, but in a fatherly, gentle way that was totally the opposite of Dev’s own late father.

  Even Carl had come over to help with the carpentry on the interior of the store, and he’d worked faster and harder for his money than most men half his age. The others from the boardinghouse had dropped by now and then to help unpack boxes, sweep and dust, or just to offer encouragement.

  His houseful of faceless, unwanted responsibility had started to feel like family.

  “Hey, son,” Frank called out from the front door. “Someone wants to buy a kayak and is asking about accessories.”

  Dapper as ever in his worn suit, crisp white shirt and tie, Frank had conceded to the theme of the store by exchanging his bomber hat for a fishing cap emblazoned with a giant, thrashing walleye embroidered on the front.


  Glancing at the fierce fish on his head, Dev raised a hand in acknowledgment, finished a sales transaction for spandex biker shorts and a new brake assembly for a mountain bike, then locked the register and made his way through the crowd to the front door.

  Frank met him at the door and rested a hand on Dev’s back as he pointed out the right customer.

  “I should have hired extra help today. I had no idea,” Dev said, close to Frank’s ear.

  “If you’d like, I could call Reva. She knows how to handle a cash register.”

  His eyes sparkled and a note of pride crept into Frank’s voice whenever he spoke of the woman who was apparently the love of his life, though she didn’t appear to be aware that he even existed. Still, he doggedly treated her with proper, courtly respect at every opportunity.

  “Good idea. Thanks.” Dev gave him a hearty clap on the shoulder, wishing he could do more to smooth the way for his friend. Maybe…if the store stayed busy, he could hire her part-time, so she and Frank would end up working together…

  He snorted at the thought. Of all people on the planet, he was the last who ought to interfere with anyone else’s affairs of the heart. He’d loved Beth Carrigan with all his heart once, and where it had gotten him? Long nights.

  Little interest in anyone else.

  Businesses at opposite ends of a block.

  And occasional working lunches, when they talked about the people of Sloane House and wondered what to do about them.

  But that was life. He searched out the kayak customer and worked his way over there. “Hey, how can I help you?”

  And smiled to himself, because it was so ironic that he could make that offer to someone else yet not be able to help himself.

  By five o’clock, the crowds had thinned to a trickle. Dev’s shoulder was aching, his feet were tired, and Frank looked exhausted.

  Reva, who had handled the cash register for hours as well as finding varying sizes and colors of items for customers in the back room, looked as fresh as a pristine, ivory rose, her posture perfect, her black hair and elegant features unruffled.

  “I’m going to run across the street and get us all some coffee,” Frank announced, his eyes shyly fixed on Reva. “Black with cream and one sugar?”

  She inclined her head in a regal nod. “Thank you, Frank.”

  The woman needed to give him more points for effort, Dev thought as he restocked a display of Swiss Army knives by the front door and watched Frank head across the sidewalk. Belatedly, he realized he should have given Frank some cash.

  Locking the glass display, Dev started out the door. “Frank!”

  Frank paused at the curb, then started across the street.

  “Frank—wait a minute.” Dev started after him, caught behind a family moseying down the sidewalk with a herd of small, sticky children holding balloons that were bobbing crazily in the breeze at adult eye level.

  From the corner of his eye he saw a dark sedan pull slowly from the curb at the far end of the block. As it drew closer he caught a glimpse of a teenager driver holding a cell phone at his ear, while juggling a coffee mug and the steering wheel with his other hand.

  The balloons bobbled back into Dev’s line of vision just as the sedan suddenly swerved and lurched forward.

  A sudden premonition sank its talons into his heart. “Frank! Look out!”

  Oblivious, Frank kept walking.

  Someone screamed. Stragglers in the street scattered, gripping the hands of small children as they threw themselves out of the way.

  Startled by the motion more than the noise, Frank spun around and started to run.

  But it was too late.

  The car caught him broadside. His body tumbled in the air as if in slow motion, then landed with a sickening thud and the sound of fractured bone on the street, a good twenty feet from impact.

  People shouted. The scene was a blur of color and movement as the vehicle screeched to a stop, then took off around the next corner on two wheels and rocketed out of sight.

  Dev started running. Even as his mind automatically clicked into emergency mode, his heart wrenched with grief for an old man who couldn’t possibly sustain injuries from that kind of impact and survive.

  And for the first time in years, he started to pray.

  “I failed. I could’ve saved him, but I failed,” Dev ground out, his elbows propped on his thighs and his face buried in his hands.

  Beth rested a hand on his shoulder blade, wishing he would sit back in his chair and make eye contact. When she’d arrived in the E.R. waiting room he’d been sitting alone, bent over his knees with his fists clenched behind his head. Lost in his own world, he hadn’t acknowledged her greeting or her presence for a good twenty minutes.

  Whether he was praying or reliving Frank’s accident she couldn’t guess.

  But then he’d straightened up in his chair, and had been berating himself ever since, refusing to listen to reason. His guilt and grief were so palpable that it seemed the whole room was filled with it.

  “He’s lucky to have a good friend like you, Dev. You can be supportive while he’s in the hospital. You can help him once he’s released.”

  “He’s lucky? Think again. Someone else would’ve moved faster. Done the right thing.”

  “You were too far away. He couldn’t hear you over the noise of the other people.”

  “As for being a good friend? I have nothing to give him or anyone else. I can’t even relate to civilian life. Not anymore.”

  With a sudden flash of clarity, she realized this was not just about the gravely wounded man who’d been in surgery for almost two hours now, facing a battle for his life.

  She placed her hand over his and squeezed gently. “You tried to warn him. You tried to get there in time. It wasn’t possible for anyone to do better. He’s in God’s hands now.”

  “God’s hands.” Dev’s voice was low and bitter. “Where was God whenever I prayed desperately for someone’s life? When that hit-and-run driver headed for Frank and accidentally stepped on the gas instead of the brakes? Where was God when that Afghan mother and her two kids—”

  He broke off sharply and leaned his head against the wall above his chair, his face pale.

  Beth’s heart twisted at the depth of pain he felt, far beyond that of any battle wound or surgery, though he’d endured those as well. She let the silence between them lengthen, letting him think. Hoping he might start talking again.

  But he stared up at the ceiling as if she weren’t there, one minute after another.

  “Tell me,” she said quietly.

  He shot her such a disparaging glance that she felt as if he’d scorched her skin. She was tempted to get up and walk away, but something made her sit still.

  “If you think I won’t be able to understand what you’ve been through, you’re wrong. It may tear at my heart and I might never forget it, but it’s a part of you. I need to know.”

  He closed his eyes. “We were on a reconnaissance mission in a remote, rugged area outside of Kabul. It’s no place you’d want to be. Scorpions, vipers, cobras, and some of the roughest terrain you’ll ever see. We came under fire and took position in a bombed-out village—not much more than a pile of rocks. But there was a woman hiding there, with two small kids. She was so young, so scared—you could see it in her eyes, but she’d created a shelter for those little boys, and you could see she was doing the best she could for them. And when we showed up, we brought trouble right to her door.”

  He sighed heavily and fell silent.

  Beth could guess the horrifying outcome. She didn’t want to hear the words. But she also knew it was more important for Dev to finish what he was saying than to keep it inside.

  “Please—go on.”

  “When we came under fire again, I urged her to take her children to a building at the rear of the compound. I figured the enemy would have to get past us before she’d be in any danger. But they must have seen me go back there—maybe thought we had a cache of w
eapons inside. They used a grenade launcher and reduced it to a pile of rubble in minutes.” He finally opened his eyes and met Beth’s gaze.

  “There isn’t a day or night when I don’t hear those children screaming, and hear their poor mother desperately calling for help. But they were all dead when we got there. And it was because of me.”

  “Is that where you got hurt?”

  He tipped his head in acknowledgment.

  From his silence, she knew he hadn’t just hidden in a safe place during the bombing. He’d probably risked his life trying to save those civilians’ lives, and then nearly lost his own in the process.

  It was probably a miracle that he’d survived.

  “In war…you aren’t responsible for everything that happens. You can’t know what the outcome will be, even if you did your best. It wasn’t you who launched the grenades.”

  “But I was praying like crazy when that attack started, yet my decision led those children to their deaths. And I tried to save Frank from being hit, but those desperate prayers didn’t help, either. So tell me. Where was God in all of this? Maybe you have a direct line to God, but He sure doesn’t listen to me.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. God, please give me the right words.

  “Let me tell you what I believe, Dev.” She hesitated, expecting he might launch to his feet and walk away, but he didn’t move. Was he even listening? “God never promised us that life would be fair. That good people would have perfect lives. Or bad people would face perfect justice here on earth. I believe that men have free will to do good or evil, and if they do something evil, it isn’t God’s will at all. He loves his children and wants them to have full, abundant lives.”

  Dev made a noncommittal sound deep in his throat.

  “God does listen to prayer.”

  “Right.”

  “Sometimes, He answers in ways we don’t understand, or we don’t like, or in His own good time.” She dropped her gaze to her hands, trying to search for the right words. “Sometimes, it’s a small and perfect answer—one of those little miracles in life. Sometimes, like when my dad died, it isn’t that He cures the fatal disease or stops the runaway train or fixes the terrible injury. He brings us peace and comfort and healing.”