by Cheryl Wyatt
“Did he?”
“Surprisingly, yes. It was the one and only time he talked heart-to-heart with me. He promised that once he retired he’d spend more time with me and Mom. That promise was the only thing that kept her from divorcing him. But he never made it come true. He just dangled it in front of us until his death.” Her jaw hardened.
“I’m sorry, Chloe.”
“He’d preach about husbands loving their wives, then come home and ignore his family until he retired to the grave. The day he died my parents had gotten in the worst argument ever. Though it wasn’t her fault, after Dad’s death Mom spiraled into a depression. I talked her into using his life insurance money to buy her greenhouse. Doctors said that, plus having me and her joy over our animals, saved her from suicide.”
“Did that give you the animal-assisted therapy idea?”
“Yes. But by that time Mom had lived through enough misery to convince me never to make her mistake of letting a man get in the way of my dreams.”
“Chloe, I hate to break it to you, but Mary told me the second time we went fishing that she hopes we end up together.”
“Figures. The traitor.” Chloe gave a wry grin. “Speaking of fishing, is your dad going tomorrow, Chance?”
“Far as I know. Now stop changing the subject and tell me what you’re so scared of.”
“My biggest fear?”
As the words left Chloe’s lips, she felt as if she were glimpsing it right in his gorgeous face. Because if there were ever a man she’d want to marry, Chance was the one.
“Following my mother’s footsteps.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Wait, Mom! I can’t keep up.” Chloe trailed Mary down the dock, unwrapping Midnight’s leash which kept tangling in her wristwatch. Chloe kicked the branch aside that had nearly caused her to trip.
Unfortunately, the branch landed in the water rather than on the bank beside the dock.
The dog caught sight of the thrown branch. His body tensed, then rocketed off the dock to fetch it.
Chloe’s body gave one big jerk. The leash loop caught on the industrial-sized watch her mother and Mal had gone in together to get her because of her tendency to be late. The floating dock tilted one way, then the other. Chloe overcorrected. Her arms flailed, but she couldn’t loosen the leash. The dog splashed into the water after the stick, and Chloe splashed right behind him.
“Chloe!” Chance dashed for her, but it was too late.
A shock of water rushed over her head. Chloe clamped her mouth shut, held her breath and desperately tried to untangle her watch from Midnight’s leash. She wasn’t fast enough. He dragged her farther underwater. Her blouse caught on deadwood and the leash tightened around her throbbing wrist. She jerked on the leash, on her blouse and fought panic. How long could she hold her breath?
Another splash sounded, nearby but muted.
Chloe clenched her mouth shut and flailed underwater only to come up and bump the underside of something big. Her eyes burned as she opened them in the murky water. All she could see was a large, wavy, distorted square. Must be the floating dock above her. No space between its hard foam underbelly and the water’s top for air pockets.
Lungs screaming for oxygen, Chloe thrashed around, still submerged, looking for the fastest way out. Pulse racing she searched, frantically and futilely, for the closest side to sunlight. But she couldn’t find a break in the water.
“Where is she?” Her mother’s strained voice sounded distant in Chloe’s ears.
Don’t take a breath! Don’t breathe or you’ll die.
Her eyes felt ready to bulge out of her head. Cheeks strained, she continued to hold her breath, twisting her body, trying to dive back down and out from under the bobbing dock. Her hair snagged on something underneath the dock and held her there.
Okay, now it was time to panic. She opened her mouth instinctively to scream for help. Big mistake. Water rushed in.
She jerked at her hair and thrashed to keep from coughing or breathing while struggling frantically. She had to breathe, had to breathe, had to breathe right now. She bubbled water out. It didn’t help. She was so dizzy now. She needed to inhale.
Something big disturbed the water beside her and disentangled her hair. Everything became surreal.
Strong arms enfolded her body. Warmth tugged her with massive strength to the right, opposite the direction she thought the surface was. The person holding her gave a mighty shove, and her face broke through water.
She sputtered and coughed. Brock reached down from the dock and pulled her up by the underarms. From the water, her rescuer Chance pushed her up with mighty oaklike arms. Then he pressed his hands on the wood planks beside her and pulled himself up in one motion onto the rocking dock.
Chloe rolled onto her back and fought the burning in her lungs. “Ugh.” She pounded her chest. “’Urts!”
“Try to cough the water out, Chloe. Draw slow, light breaths so you don’t pull the fluid deeper, then forcefully cough.” Speaking of forceful, Chance’s voice was just that.
She coughed and coughed some more, then couldn’t stop.
Chance, kneeling over her, turned her face to the side. Then rolled her body sideways.
He must have known before she did what was coming next, because two milliseconds later she vomited frothy water.
“Oh, my goodness. She almost drowned!” Covered in convulsive tremors, Mary dropped to Chloe’s side.
Chance handed Chloe a piece of cloth to wipe her mouth. She realized after using it that he’d shed his shirt. “She just swallowed a little water. She’s fine.”
Brock put a calming hand on Mary for which Chloe was glad. What seemed like an hour later but was really only a few minutes, Chloe slowly, with Chance’s help, sat upright. Heat filled her face, as she croaked, “Please, no one tell me what an idiotic move that was.” Her chest still burned from having held her breath for so long and gulping water at the end. “I’m the epitome of embarrassed right now. Stupid watch!”
Mary’s hands flew to her mouth. “That did it?”
“Yes, Mom. You and Mal out to off me or what?” Chloe glared at Chance. “Do not tell me you told me so, buster. I did not wrap the leash around my wrist.”
Now somewhere between bewildered and bemused, Mary blinked. Brock’s mouth twitched. He covered it with his hand.
Chance bit back a grin and made zipping motions over his mouth. Concern still trumped humor in his handsome face.
Just then, Midnight trotted up to Chloe and dropped the stupid, offensive, death-trap branch in her lap.
Chloe made groaning sounds, then burst out laughing, mostly to keep from crying which made her cough again. “Okay, boy. Good job,” she said when she caught her breath again. “I know you thought I was tossing it out there for you to retrieve. But next time we try that trick, let’s not have my watch wrapped in your leash, okay?”
Chance stood and reached for Chloe’s arms. He tugged her up and brushed her off. Brock handed her a towel from a hatch in his boat.
“Thanks. And I know you all want to laugh. So don’t let me hold you back.”
While Mary’s mouth twitched, her eyes still held unshed tears. Chloe had scared the daylights out of her mom today.
“I’m just glad your dad wasn’t here to witness this,” Chloe said to Chance. “He might have had another stroke.”
Chance chuckled but it still lacked humor, proving she’d shaken him. “Doubt it. He probably would’ve ripped stitches in his britches trying to help you. He’s toughened up the past several weeks, thanks to you and Midnight.”
“Then why won’t he come fishing with us on Saturdays?” Chloe asked.
Chance’s ears turned red. “I didn’t ask him.”
“I bet I can get him to come,” Mary said with confidence that drew everyone’s attention.
Chance angled his head. “Yeah, I’m sure you could.”
Chloe looked from Brock to Chance to her mother, who blushed. “We’ve be
en going to bingo together.”
Chloe craned her neck. “You and Ivan?”
“Yes. And we’ve been enjoying ourselves a lot.”
“Like, a romantic kind of enjoying?” Brock paused.
Mary shrugged. “We’ll see where it goes.”
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me?” Chloe hugged her, then laughed when Brock started teasing Mary.
But while everyone else chuckled or at least smiled, Chance walked away somber and silent.
Brock noticed right when Chloe did. His grin faded. “Hold up, guys. Something’s wrong. Chance looks peeved.”
Mary frowned. “Oh dear. I suppose Ivan didn’t tell him we’ve been seeing each other during times Chance has training operations and meetings. Chloe, go talk to him.”
Brock halted her. “No, clearly he’s upset. Let me go.”
“I feel terrible about this.” Mary wrung her hands.
“Mom, are you happy?”
“Yes. Happier than I’ve been in a while.”
“Is Ivan happy?”
“Seems to be. Says he is. He keeps asking me out.” Mary shook her head. “But I can’t compromise things between you and Chance.”
“What’s to compromise?”
“Don’t lie to yourself, Chloe. And don’t miss the chance of a lifetime. Literally.”
“If this is what Ivan wants and Chance can’t handle it, maybe we’re not meant to be.”
Mary shook her head. “I don’t believe that for a minute. Nor should you.”
“That would be fine except for the most important thing—that he’s intent on being a youth pastor and I’m intent on not being a pastor’s wife.”
Mary began to say something but clamped her mouth shut when Brock and Chance, whose conversation looked pretty intense, started back toward them. Brock broke off.
Chloe stepped away from Mary to approach Chance alone. “You okay?”
Chance studied her a moment, then shrugged. Though they stood mere inches apart, he felt a million miles away.
“Chance?”
Spears of annoyance streaked across his eyes.
“Please talk to me,” she whispered, fighting the familiar sense of desperation that any silence provoked.
He eyed her mom and frowned slightly as his gaze returned to Chloe. “What do you want me to say?”
“The truth. How you feel.”
His face transformed into something ruthless and determined. Chloe glimpsed the side of Chance that was the tough-as-titanium, search-and-rescue commando in combat. “How I feel? Like I can’t believe this is happening so soon. How can he just replace her like that? Especially with the anniversary of her death looming. It hasn’t even been one year.” He shook his head and clenched his jaw.
“Chance, I’m sorry this hurts and makes you angry.”
“I’ll live with it if forced to. But don’t expect me to like it—or the fact that you’re so ready to write me off just because I want to help young people.”
What could she say to that? Absolutely nothing, because he was exactly right.
Sadness coated Chloe like the mildew under the dock that had almost drowned her.
“It’s just because it’s coming up on a year, Chloe. Trust me. That’s a hard day. He’ll come around.” Mary put on a full pot of coffee, which meant it’d be a long night.
Chloe refused to tell her mother that Chance hadn’t called her since the fishing trip nearly a week ago. He hadn’t even come by to see Brock, which cemented her deduction that he was avoiding her, probably so he didn’t have to think of their parents together. Telling Mary would put a damper on her joy over her budding relationship with Ivan.
Chloe splayed all of her Chicago program’s financial data on the table. Mary had agreed to come over and go through it and give fundraising ideas.
“I’ve wracked my brain over Refuge City Council’s reticence for weeks. Well, two members’ reluctance in particular.”
Chloe felt a headache coming on. She popped two ibuprofin, then she set two coffee mugs on the counter and hauled out the richest tub of chocolate she owned. A day like today called for the good stuff and lots of it.
Mary turned around and saw the industrial-sized bucket of sweetness, then burst out laughing.
Chloe shook her head and listened to the gentle gurgle of her neon-green coffeepot and enjoyed the rich aroma. She plucked candy out of the tub and set out computer diagrams of the facilities she planned to have built.
“Your orthodontist is going to have a fit.”
“He won’t know unless you tell him.” Chloe popped a chocolate into her mouth and extended the tub to Mary.
She shook her head. “No thank you. I’m trying to watch my weight. I want to lose a few pounds.”
Chloe chewed slower. “Wow. You and Ivan must be serious.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Drama mama, the chocolate fiend, is going without? You’re serious about that guy.”
Mary ignored her daughter’s comment and reached for the papers Chloe spread out. “Is this all of it?”
“Yes. Everything.” Chloe popped a seedless grape into her mouth to offset the chocolate. Or at least to make her feel less guilty later for the cocoa binge. “So, Mom. Back to Chance. You really think he’ll come around?”
“About Ivan and me? I do.” Mary’s eyebrows pinched as she looked at the diagrams, then went through the spreadsheet and council minutes.
“Do you think he’s right for me?”
Mary looked up and smiled briefly before running through the plans again. “I really do, Chloe. I think God’s favor rests on both of you in this relationship.”
Chloe eyed the chocolate, then the grapes, then went for the chocolate. She resisted the urge to chatter on about Chance. She didn’t want to distract her mom from helping.
After all, Mary had built her own business and had heaped helpful advice that thrust Chloe up the ladder of the Chicago-based team. Now Chloe was in charge of building one from the foundation up. Problem was, she needed more people and money and clearance than she had now.
Mary stopped, stretched her fingers and resumed typing numbers in. She ate a grape but eyed the chocolate.
Chloe pushed the bowl in front of her mom. “It’d make me feel better if someone else indulged with me.”
Snorting, Mary bypassed the chocolate and grabbed another grape. Her face twisted more with every punch of the keypad. Mary finally set the calculator aside and made a growling noise. “Let me see the accounting records. I’m afraid you don’t have enough here.”
“Records?”
Mary hesitated. “You must have cash flow to get things off the ground in case Refuge City Council denies the funding that your Chicago supers said you could count on.” She peered over her glasses at Chloe. “Do you have any cash flow? Or were you counting on the council?”
“Was I counting on it? Yeah. Pretty much.” Chloe suddenly felt ill. Possibly from eating so much chocolate, but probably because Mary was coming to the same depressing conclusion as Chloe and Mallory. Chloe reached for a grape.
Mary flipped through papers and became more agitated with each ledger. She opened the expense summary and frowned, then removed her glasses and let them dangle from the chain holding them. “Hand over that chocolate. We’re going to be here a while. You guys need to have a backup plan for funding in case Refuge refuses to budge with grants.”
Bone weariness clung to Chloe like a second skin. “Why must everything be so stinkin’ hard?” Chloe started to put the chocolate away.
Mary tugged the bowl back. “You’re not a wimp. And neither is Mallory. Chin up. You two’ll get through this. The people and animals your program will help will be worth every pothole. The best road isn’t always the easy one.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Son, if you wanted the easy way, you shoulda joined the Girl Scouts, not the Air Force Special Operations Forces.” Petrowski whistled into the new recruit’s ear. “Hold it!”
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The recruit puffed air out his mouth and tried to raise his face above muddy water while scrambling across the deep creek bed. Vince, who sat on his back while he crawled across slippery sections of creek, filed his fingernails, which teed off the new recruit even more.
“Dude!” He spewed trashy words and water. “You’re too flipping heavy!”
“If you can’t carry me across this creek, Airman, how are you going to swim a shot-up pilot from a shot-down plane across two kilometers of head-deep river? Move!”
Joel faced the recruits. “Who’s next?”
No one moved. All of the camo-cloaked eyes bugged.
“Amazing. Days ago you flimsies were fighting to go.”
“We didn’t know how hard it’d be. Let us have a break,” one recruit was brave enough—or foolish enough—to yell.
“Break on a mission and someone’s guaranteed to die.”
Chance tried not to grin. He’d gone through this. Every member of their elite team had gone through this. Despite feeling like death at times, they all made it through. The fifth day, with little sleep, little food and rationed water was always the toughest.
Some guys had already started hallucinating from heat, exhaustion, hunger, thirst and the physical exertion. But such was Special Ops training.
Petrowski walked, hands behind his back in drill sergeant fashion, in front of the line. “You gonna be in the more-than-ninety percent who wimp out? Or the top ten who dare make it? Your choice.”
Joel followed Petrowski. “We believe in you or you wouldn’t be here. You’re a select few. Handpicked by us. Who’s gonna step up their game and get through this?”
One kid who looked half brave, half scared, sloshed forward and lifted a timid hand. “I wanna make it. I wanna be a PJ. And I want it bad. I’ll go next.”
Joel pulled the first kid out of the water and patted him on the back. “You made it. Nice job.”
The kid promptly bent over and cough-puked up whatever he’d swallowed, possibly a tree frog, when Vince had shoved his face under the water every few feet. “With all due respect, sirs, this doesn’t feel like training to me.”
