Daddy to the Rescue

by Susan Kearney

  The anguish in her words scorched him. “I hate that our marriage meant so little to you that you threw it away. I hate that I meant so little to you that you left me wondering what I’d done wrong.”

  “Oh, Sara.” He groaned at the depth of her pain.

  “I hate failing. I hate making mistakes and, except for sweet Abby, being with you was the biggest mistake of my life. I hate feeling that if I’d been more accepting—”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Or if I had worked less—”

  “Don’t do this to yourself.”

  “Or if I’d found a way to stay at your side.”

  “In Pakistan? In Kuwait? While you were pregnant? It was too dangerous and you would have been miserable.”

  She looked him straight in the eyes. “I was miserable without you, but I’m over you now. I don’t ever want to go back to that place.”

  She was shutting him out, and he hadn’t a clue what to say to convince her otherwise—especially when everything she said was true. He’d been a Marine for eight years. The first four, when she’d traveled with him, had been the best years of his life. But when the missions became too dangerous, civilians weren’t allowed to accompany their spouses. Sara couldn’t visit combat zones, and his long absences had put more stress on her than she could take.

  “Are you seeing someone else?” he forced himself to ask. The thought of another man holding Sara and raising his daughter cut unbearably deep.

  “You have no right to ask me that question.” Her words weren’t so much defiant as bleak. Sara sighed and closed her eyes, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “But, no, I’m not seeing anyone.”

  “We could—”

  The sound of a chopper cut off his statement. After gently placing the sleeping Abby in her carrier, he backed out of the snow hut, stood and held his binoculars to his eyes to search the snow-filled sky.

  Under the canopy of tree branches and hard-falling snow, they and the smoke from their campfire were effectively hidden from the chopper. But why was it up there, when Kirk had yet to send the signal to Logan?

  Sara stepped beside him. “I strapped Abby into the carrier so even if she wakes up, she’ll be safe from the fire— What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure anything is wrong. Logan instructed me to keep radio silence, but if he was sending the chopper up, I’d have figured he’d send a message first.”

  “Could mountains block the radio signal like they do my cell phone?”

  He shook his head. “The radios don’t require a satellite to work, but go by line of sight.”

  “Could the radio be broken?”

  “It’s unlikely. And there’s no way to test it without breaking silence.” He frowned at the sky and put away the binoculars. “Are you up for a short hike? I want to move camp.”

  “It’s almost dark. It’s snowing. We have a protected hut and firewood. And you want to move because…?”

  “You’ve been here too long. The chopper might have spotted your smoke.”

  “In all this snow?”

  “They have thermal imagers. With the right equipment, the chopper could have spotted us.”

  “But don’t we want it to spot us? Don’t we want to be rescued?”

  “Suppose someone else is looking for us in this storm? The same someone who trashed your apartment? The same someone who crashed your plane?”

  Sara crossed her arms over her chest. “If your intent is to scare me, it’s working.”

  He heard the chopper circling, turning back. “We’re moving out. Get Abby.”

  From their shelter, Kirk yanked off the tarp that had served as their roof and folded it into his pack. Sara bundled up the baby in the extra clothing he’d brought and placed her in the sling that she wore on her back. Her computer dangled from her hand, and he took it from her.

  “You’ll need both hands free if you fall.”

  At least she trusted him with her precious computer. She didn’t say a word as he placed it into his pack. They put out the fire and broke camp in less than three minutes.

  Kirk signaled Pepper to stay close, and the animal obediently remained at their sides. However, she kept looking in the direction of the helicopter, and Kirk suspected her sensitive ears could still hear the engines.

  Sara’s face was grim, her lips tight and determined. “What about Abby’s carrier?”

  “It’s too heavy and awkward to carry.”

  “But it protects her from the cold. She can’t sleep on the ground. And holding her is impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “She wriggles.”

  “She can sleep on my chest.” At the doubt he saw on Sara’s face, he reconsidered. “Maybe I can come back for the carrier.”

  Pepper let out a soft woof, her way of telling him the chopper had gotten louder and possibly turned around.

  “Let’s move out.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Sara muttered.

  “So do I.” Kirk patted her shoulder, pleased that this time she didn’t jerk away. And then he grinned. “But I’m the best damn search and rescue man on the mountain.”

  Sara rolled her eyes and, if she didn’t smile, her mouth softened at his attempt at humor. “You’re the only search and rescue man on the mountain.”

  WITH A CONTENTED ABBY on her back, Sara trudged behind Kirk through the snow. Her daughter hadn’t protested the mask Kirk had brought for her that kept her face warm and left openings for the eyes, nose and mouth. And she enjoyed the backpack, sitting quietly without complaining. Sara found the load heavy, but manageable, especially after glancing at Kirk’s huge pack.

  He walked steadily in front of her, breaking trail, holding back branches so they wouldn’t catch her in the face and helping her over the rough and icy patches. Within five minutes of leaving the snow hut, she was totally lost and feeling dependent on Kirk. A feeling she hated. She didn’t want to owe him anything. She didn’t want to depend on him. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t have picked a better man with whom to face the storm. His skills would keep them alive, and she never doubted his loyalty or honesty as she would have a stranger’s.

  But that special connection that she still felt between them concerned her. When he’d placed his hand on her ankle, she’d wanted him to do so much more. Afraid he’d see the need in her eyes and sense the loneliness inside, she’d overreacted to his touch, revealing more than she’d intended.

  She reminded herself that he would have taken the same risks for strangers. He’d done so, many times. She had to fight to keep him at an emotional distance, which wasn’t easy considering their desperate circumstances. Still, she had to try.

  It was difficult to forget all they had shared. His last leave had been so bittersweet. The last time they’d made love. And had created Abby.

  Sara had no way to judge time, except that with every passing hour the white snow turned to gray and the cold grew more bitter. Without the mittens, woolen face mask, snowpants and thermal underwear Kirk had brought her, she would have been frostbitten by now. As it was, she still felt chilled. Not even keeping to his tough pace could warm her.

  Abby, in the pack, didn’t have the luxury of movement. But Kirk had wrapped an additional blanket around the baby and he stopped periodically to check her fingers and toes. During the last check, he’d promised to stop soon. But apparently he hadn’t found the right cover.

  “We’re almost there,” he told her, his voice muffled by the wind.

  She had followed him straight into the cave before she realized that he’d found the perfect shelter. While the roof was tall enough for her to stand, Kirk stooped to avoid hitting his head. She gazed uneasily into the black depths.

  “What about bears?”

  Taking out his flashlight, he shone it into the interior. “None in here.” He slid off his pack and dumped it on the cave floor. “There are matches in a case. If you gather some kindling, I’ll bring back some heavier wood.”<
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  “First, I need to feed Abby.”

  He nodded and ducked back outside. Sara winced as the cold air bit into her chest, and she wrapped a blanket around both the child and herself. Hungry, Abby sucked hard and swallowed quickly. Her eagerness and strength reassured Sara. She’d feared taking her daughter into the storm, but Abby seemed no worse for the time spent outside. Her rosy cheeks glowed with health and her body, nestled against Sara’s, was warm and cuddly.

  Sara had decided to breast-feed because she’d read how healthy it was for the baby. She’d never expected to enjoy the experience. But feeding her child this way, holding her skin to skin, brought a closeness and a bonding that she’d never anticipated. She hadn’t known so much love was in her. Hadn’t known she could take so much joy in Abby’s smiles or in her well-being.

  And until now, she hadn’t known how much she’d wanted to share that joy over her precious child with Kirk. No one else would ever take such pleasure in each new word Abby learned, in her tiny smiles, in her swift adaptability to changing circumstances.

  Sara had just finished changing Abby’s diaper when Kirk returned with an armload of wood. He didn’t complain that she hadn’t started making the fire, just dumped the wood and set about gathering kindling himself.

  Abby wanted to explore and seemed set on crawling. Sara floated the blanket over the hard-packed dirt and set the baby down. Full of curiosity, Abby raised herself to hands and knees and took off to investigate her new world.

  Kirk dug out matches from his pack and glanced at the crawling baby with a frown. “Are you tired of holding her?”

  “She needs exercise. She hasn’t crawled around since the crash.”

  Abby reached the edge of the blanket, picked up a stick and tried to jam it in her mouth. Sara plucked the stick from her hand. “I don’t have her pacifier.”

  Kirk dug into his pack and handed her a plastic baby bottle with a nipple attached. “Maybe she can chew on this.”

  Since he’d known from the start of his journey that she was breast-feeding, he must have brought the bottle in case the child had survived and she hadn’t. But, of course, Kirk didn’t say so, and she wondered what else he might be protecting them from that she couldn’t even imagine.

  Pepper settled on the edge of the blanket, as if guarding the baby. Sara gathered leaves and twigs into a pile a few feet away from the blanket and near the entrance. The cave was roomier than the snow hut and the walls blocked the wind better. However, they would require a larger fire to heat the larger area, and that meant more wood.

  Sara stood, prepared to do her part. “If you’ll keep an eye on Abby, I’ll go for more firewood.”

  “Not necessary. There’s a stack outside the cave. But you could gather some clean snow in this pot to melt.”

  Sara realized that to give her privacy while feeding the baby, he hadn’t brought in the wood. At his consideration, her heart softened toward him.

  Don’t make the same mistake. He might be taking great care of them now, but he’d soon be back at the job he loved—maybe with Logan’s team, and if not with the Shey Group, then with someone else. In fact, if she hadn’t been in danger, he wouldn’t have been with them at all. She recalled the way he’d said he missed her, the heat in his eyes that told her he wanted to try again, but she dismissed his feelings. Gabby’s death and Abby’s birth may have thrown him, but when he finished his grieving and his celebrating he would return to doing what he’d always done, protecting the lives of others by risking his own.

  At first, she’d wanted him to quit the Marines because he wished to be with her. She had kept hoping he’d miss her enough to do something on his own about their separations—without her prodding. Because if she’d asked him to stop, and he did so because of her, he’d grow to resent her. But he’d kept on, and clearly expected her to do the same. She’d finally come right out and asked him to quit, and he’d refused. So she’d sent the divorce papers. Maybe to others the gesture seemed cold, but she just hadn’t had the strength or the courage to make the phone call—especially after he’d hurt her so badly by never answering her letters about their daughter. A nice, clean, fast break had been for the best.

  Only now, they were together again. While they’d been apart it hadn’t been easy preventing him from invading her thoughts. But she’d managed. Over the past months she’d gotten better at keeping her mind occupied with work and Abby. Now he was here. Alive. Protective. So kind she wanted to slap him for making her remember how good they’d been together.

  Damn him.

  Efficiently, he lit the fire using the dried leaves, then coaxed the twigs to catch before adding thicker pieces of wood. His large hands, his fingers dexterous, fed the fire with smooth precision. She remembered those same hands on her. She thought about a midnight swim in Panama that had ended with them making love in the moonlight, and a romantic Valentine’s Day, a tub filled with rose petals and a very naked, very charming Kirk surrounded by lighted candles. Sara didn’t want to remember, but how could she forget, with his every movement bringing back the memories?

  Abby chewed on the bottle’s nipple, and Pepper settled down with her head on her paws, her watchful gaze on the baby.

  When Sara neared the entrance, she saw that Kirk had draped the tarp over most of the opening, leaving a hole at the top to draw out the smoke. In minutes, he had the fire burning hot enough to add some much thicker branches.

  “Keep an eye on Abby.” Sara suspected her request was unnecessary. Between the dog and Kirk, Abby would be well cared for.

  Sara stepped outside, as much to escape Kirk and her memories as to gather snow. She scooped clean snow into the pot to melt for drinking water. The wind had picked up again and more snow had fallen, enough to almost cover their footprints. She couldn’t see any stars, didn’t glance but once at the sky. She tucked her head down to keep the snow out of her eyes. The frigid temperature had dropped enough to make her hurry back inside.

  Abby had crawled over to Pepper. She had two fistfuls of fur and was trying to pull herself to her feet. Pepper didn’t seem to mind.

  Sara handed the snow-filled pot to Kirk. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Steak and peppers, or chili. Your choice.”

  “Either one sounds good. I’m starved.”

  “Up.” Abby pulled herself to her feet for a second, then plopped onto her bottom. She giggled, re-grabbed Pepper’s fur and started the entire process all over again.

  Kirk handed Sara a food packet. It took only minutes to heat, and she dug into the steak and peppers with appreciation. After a few bites, she noticed that Kirk had yet to take out a meal for himself. “Aren’t you eating?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  That had to be a lie. She hadn’t seen him eat anything since he’d arrived. Between climbing the mountain and carrying his pack, he’d burned plenty of energy. She’d gone through the top portion of his pack. They had at least four or five more meals in there.

  She frowned at him. “Are you conserving our supplies?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Don’t patronize me. I thought we’re getting off this mountain tomorrow.”

  “We are.” She stared at him until he added, “If the weather breaks.”

  “I’m not going to eat alone.”

  Stubbornly, he turned his back to her and pulled out a cup and a packet of instant coffee. “Yes, you are. You missed several meals and need extra calories to feed Abby.”

  “And we need you strong to get us out of here. Hungry men do not make good decisions.” She went to his pack, tossed him a packet of food. “Eat.”

  He shook his head, grinned and accepted the food. “When I was missing you, I forgot how bossy you are.”

  When I was missing you. He’d said the words with such simplicity that she recognized that he had missed her. Of course he’d missed her. She’d doubted many things, but never his love for her. And for the first time she realized that she hadn’t been the only
one hurt by their divorce.

  He handed her the coffee cup and their fingers touched. His hands were warm and strong, and she had to resist taking a seat beside him, leaning into him to share his strength. She no longer had that right. And although she sensed he would welcome the closeness, she didn’t want to become accustomed again to his touch, or his masculine scent, or the sheer pleasure of knowing she wasn’t alone. Experience told her that the closer she allowed herself to get to him, the more she’d suffer when he left.

  He spoke between bites of food. “Logan said you live in a house?”

  “I moved into my grandmother’s home. After Abby was born, I wanted to put down roots.” She sipped the coffee and appreciated the warmth as well as the flavor. Since there was only one cup, they would have to share—another intimacy she couldn’t avoid. Careful not to spill any of the hot liquid, she handed him back his cup.

  His eyes twinkled. “Do you have a garden?”

  She was always trying to grow things: flowers, vegetables—fruits when they’d lived in Panama. But she simply didn’t have a green thumb. Her plants didn’t die, they just didn’t flourish. Kirk used to tease her that she didn’t talk to them in the right way. He’d claimed that plants needed more than computer programming words to blossom.

  “I plan to start a garden this summer. I want to feed Abby fresh vegetables.”

  “Uh-huh.” He restrained a smile, sipped the coffee and handed back the cup. “If you sell your software for big bucks, you can afford to hire a gardener.”

  “Maybe I will.” But she wouldn’t. She wanted to do the work herself. After spending so many hours in front of her computer, she liked an excuse to go outside. The fresh air and exercise helped clear her mind.

  “Sara.”

  “Hmm?”

  “How many people know about your program?”

  She knew why he’d asked the question. Sara had never liked working as an employee at a large corporation. Although the steady paycheck was nice, the drawbacks were many. The major one being that any work she developed even on her own time still belonged to the corporation. So she’d quit and started her own business. She was the sole owner of her business, and not many others were aware of her private work into face-recognition programs. Only people who knew about her work could come after it—but how many had the resources to do so with such viciousness?