Blessed Vows

by Jillian Hart

  “Where?” Rachel stood on tiptoe to try to look up into the stands, but she was short, always one of the banes of her existence, and she couldn’t see over the heads of the people going up the steps in front of her.

  “Up toward the middle,” Jake answered, leaning close to be heard above the roar of the crowd as the home team apparently made a down. “See?”

  She followed the line of his muscled arm, bulky with his winter coat, and saw the spot he meant. There was a patch of bench visible through the throng of families crammed together, cheering along with the cheerleaders or shouting out on their own. Okay, it would do, considering they were such latecomers. But it was a little spot, she and Jake would be pressed shoulder to shoulder, side to side, thigh to thigh.

  She gulped. Maybe they should put Sally between them. Good idea. She took another step and the faces of the people on that bench came into clearer focus. Her blood iced. Her shoe missed the step. She recognized a face in the crowd—boy, did she. “Do you think we could sit somewhere else?” Anywhere else.

  His hand settled on her back, between her shoulder blades, and his touch was a steady, amazing connection and ached as much as it soothed. The warmth of his hand, the outline of it, even through her heavy winter coat seemed to zing straight to her soul and settle. “We can sit anywhere you want, beautiful.”

  Did he know what he was doing to her? she wondered, as she tried to find the stair with her foot and succeeded. No, there was no way he could. She drew in a breath and hoped her voice would sound normal when she spoke, but it came out all strangled as if she was in the greatest agony. “Anywhere but next to my old boyfriend and his wife.”

  “Old boyfriend?” Surprise lit his voice, and Rachel turned in time to see his left brow arch upward. Sympathy flashed on his hard-chiseled face. “Now, how could any man be so dumb as not to want you?”

  If only he didn’t sound so sincere. If only her heart didn’t warm in response. Her whole world shifted. The next step she took wouldn’t have felt so monumental—something had changed, everything felt as if it changed, and yet nothing had. Like the moment in the church, she felt an odd calm seep into her soul.

  It was this man. This man and the right things he said and the good things he did and how he made her feel deep inside. He was going to render her helpless. She was going to fall so hard in love with him there would be no recovery. No saving face, no shred of dignity she would have left when he took off for Florida and his exciting life as a para-rescueman. She would never be able to hide the strong, strident emotion blazing to life in her chest like a Fourth of July fireworks display.

  “We can go somewhere else.” His words, his breath, his lips grazed her cheek and made everything worse. And everything more clear.

  The crowd blurred. The cheers and clash of the game faded. Even the brisk cold wind ebbed away until there was only the light in the center of her heart, coming to life and then flaming higher until it seemed to take over her entire being. She did not want to fall in love—one-sided again.

  Jake’s gloved hand caught hers and held on. “This way.”

  He’s leaving for Florida, Rachel. She vowed to chant that over and over until she got it through her head that she was only doomed for disappointment again.

  She was hardly aware of climbing through the stands, only of the dread of sitting close to him. And the thrill. Of settling onto the bench and the feel of his hand at her elbow, helping. Of the dependable strength of him as she sat squished against his side. This close, she could see the day’s growth shadowing his granite jaw, but she had no right to lay her fingertips there, against the side of his jawbone and discover the texture of his day’s whiskers.

  “Rachel!” a voice called through the crowd.

  She recognized her friend a few rows down, sitting with her family. “Margaret. How did Kaylie’s teacher’s conference go?”

  “It was a disaster. She’s in so much trouble.” Margaret’s kind eyes said otherwise. “Wait until motherhood happens to you, and you’ll—oh.” She gave Jake a second look. “Isn’t that Ben’s best man? His buddy from the army?”

  “Air force,” Jake started to correct her, but bit his tongue. Not his conversation. Rachel was already doing it for him, explaining that he and Ben served together.

  Margaret, a pleasant-faced woman with really frizzy hair, gave him an approving look. “So, how long have you two been together?”

  “Oh, we’re not together.” Rachel blushed, and it was a pretty sight. She dipped her chin, and the crowd began to roar as a huddle on the field broke up. The woman turned to family talk, Margaret had a couple of kids that Rachel was asking after.

  He listened with half an ear; he didn’t want to eavesdrop, but there was no way he could ignore their conversation entirely because he was pressed so close to Rachel. Which wasn’t a bad thing. Her cinnamon scent kept tickling his nose and he had to fight the need to put his arm around her and draw her close, just to see what it felt like; just to see if it felt right.

  “I’ll see you at choir practice, okay?” Rachel finished her conversation, exchanged parting smiles with her friend, and then turned to him. “Margaret and I are both sopranos in the church choir, if you can believe they let me sing. We’ve been friends since we were in preschool.”

  She was pure sweetness when she smiled, and he could picture her singing in church. He already knew she was a faithful woman; and faith was important to him. “The church I go to when I’m at home has a great choir.”

  “Really? Is it a big church?”

  “It’s probably bigger than yours here.” He’d seen the town church, prominent on a quieter corner past the park, and its high steeple and white siding spoke of traditional values. “It’s a more modern place, but that has a lot of advantages.” He waited.

  “It sounds wonderful. I lived in Seattle for a while, when I went to the University of Washington, and I attended this great church with a fantastic choir. I love music. Of course, our little town has nothing like that, but it makes up for it in a thousand other ways. It’s the people in my life who matter most.”

  “That’s how I feel.” It blew him away like a bullet to the chest. “That’s why I do what I do.”

  “You have a very demanding job. A man has to be very motivated to do it.”

  One thing he was good at was motivation, and at setting a goal and sticking with it until it was achieved. If he’d had any doubts about God’s plan, it would be at this moment. Anyone could see Rachel was happy here. The crowd roared, Sally’s hand crept into his, and he turned to her. “What is it, cutie?”

  “I gotta go to the bathroom.” She looked so pale in the bright light from the dozen floodlights blazing across the field, that he could see every freckle blanketing her nose and cheekbones.

  His iron-hard heart wrenched; he hated seeing her so unhappy. At that moment he felt the incredible warmth of Rachel leaning against him to speak with Sally, and it was such a range of emotion he felt. He wasn’t used to this; he was overwhelmed. It was as if he went deaf, for he couldn’t even hear the crowd’s wild cheers at an interception. That stillness washed over him like the ocean when he was on a night dive. The rush of water rising up over him as he plummeted downward from his jump. The blades of the chopper silenced, the view of his buddies gone, and he was alone and sinking.

  “C’mon, Sally,” he heard Rachel say, holding out her gloved hand across his chest. “I’ll take you. And on the way back, let’s get a good look at the concession stand, okay? That way we know what to make your uncle buy you.”

  “’Kay.” Sally seemed to like the idea as she bolted up and grasped Rachel’s hand like a lifeline. “Bye, Uncle Jake.”

  Rachel McKaslin laughed down at him as she took a side step to make her way through the packed bleacher row to the aisle. She held Sally’s hand and guided her over the obstacles of feet and purses and stadium blankets like a natural. Of course, she had a nephew she spent time with, so she was used to taking care of a kid. She
was perfect. So, why wasn’t she married? Was it because she didn’t want to be?

  She paused midway to the aisle to speak with a woman who looked to be about her same age in the next row back. Jake lived for football, he wouldn’t mind watching the game, but so far he hadn’t watched a single play. Rachel drew his attention and held it, and he couldn’t explain why.

  As the women exchanged pleasantries, he noticed how Rachel lit up, subtle as a twilight star, as she spoke with another friend. Here he sat in the freezing cold with his heart feeling like it was on the outside instead of safely tucked in his chest. He didn’t like feeling vulnerable. For all he knew, Rachel wanted nothing more than a life here, with her family and friends, working in the diner alongside her sisters.

  But You wouldn’t steer me wrong, right, God? He thought of what was at stake. Sally, who clung to Rachel’s hand and began to fidget. Rachel noticed right away, laughingly said goodbye to her friend, and then she and Sally made it to the aisle, where they descended the steps. Like a good mother would, Rachel kept a steady hold of Sally’s hand and helped her down the wide, steep stairs.

  He straightened, trying to keep Rachel in his sight, and it wasn’t because she looked adorable and attractive and amazing even in a bulky blue parka and wash-worn jeans. Her lustrous chestnut-colored hair bounced around her face and shoulders. His heart seemed to drag after her, and that made no sense at all.

  He was a tough soldier. He could handle being ambushed and cornered, facing it with the steel he’d been given from the Lord.

  But he didn’t do love, and he didn’t know how to draw back the tenderness that made it feel as if she had taken possession of some vital place in his heart. He only knew he had to be careful.

  What happened next was in God’s hands, he knew, as everything was; but he also knew that the Lord helped those who helped themselves and he wanted to help Sally. He didn’t need anyone—not really.

  Sally did.

  “Another licorice whip?”

  Rachel accepted the offered red rope with thanks. “I have a sweet tooth.”

  “I noticed.” He didn’t seem to think her weakness for candy was a fault. “I’ve never known a woman who liked licorice so much.”

  “It’s a sign of great character. Just like a man who can eat a hot dog after having a huge deluxe burger and an extra order of fries.”

  “I indulge when I can. A month from now, I’ll probably be scarfing down an MRE and falling to sleep with my M-4.”

  “I gave up my machine gun for a cup of cocoa and an electric blanket. They kept me warmer.” She liked that she made him laugh. The warmth of his chuckle filled her. “No electric blankets where you go?”

  “No, and the desert can get chilly at night.”

  “And lonely, I bet.” She sighed. She knew something about that. She focused on the field glimmering beneath the floodlights like a giant rectangular emerald. The suited-up high-school kids were grim during the last four minutes left on the clock. They were ahead by a field goal, but they’d lost the down. One slip and they could lose the game.

  On the field, her nephew Alex, so tall and grown-up, gave his face mask a yank, concentrating, as the players lined up, ready to scrimmage. Cheers rose, the band sent a musical challenge, which the crowd picked up on, and the excitement in the stands rose to a crescendo.

  All around her were friends and acquaintances, people she’d known all her life. People with families of their own, her friends married with their own children. They were happy and seated beside their husbands. It was wrong to be envious, because she wasn’t truly. But she so wanted a life like theirs.

  And this man, who saw her as a friend, was on the edge of capturing her heart. And she couldn’t let him. She had to be strong. She had to fight against it as hard as she could.

  Wasn’t it just her luck that when she’d found the right man she could love, he wasn’t in love with her? It was her usual pattern. Nothing surprising about that. Not one thing.

  It’s almost over, she thought as the visiting team’s center hiked the ball, and the quarterback stepped back to pass. The clock was counting down, the home team charged and the quarterback went down before he could throw. Sacked! The game was won, although a full minute stood on the big scoreboard.

  Cheers exploded full volume. People leaped to their feet, the band screeched to life, and the cheerleaders hurled their pompoms. The game was as good as over. For her, it was.

  “This is where I leave you.” She leaned close so he could hear her over the fray and couldn’t help noticing how pleasant he smelled, of spice and man and the night. “I have to get to the diner before these people do.”

  “Then we’re coming with you.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. We’re not going to let you go off alone.” He plucked Sally from the bench beside him and swung her into his arms. “Right, Sal?”

  The girl nodded on cue, sleepy-eyed, the last five inches of a thick red licorice rope dangling from her fist. She yawned and laid her cheek against Jake’s sturdy shoulder.

  Jake smiled, always a dazzling experience. “This is a date. I’m not about to bail on you because you have responsibilities.”

  This is a date? Her mind skidded to a halt. She could only gape up at him in her best fish-out-of-water imitation. This can’t be a date. I’m in my work clothes. My hair’s a mess.

  Jake’s free hand lit on the back of her neck. Even through the thick parka, she could feel the warmth of his hand like a brand. A slow trickle of joy flowed into her; it was all that she would allow. Okay, if this was a date, then it was a casual one. An impromptu one. Last-minute. It didn’t mean anything. She’d do best not to read too much into it, even if she wanted to. Getting her hopes up scared her. They were bound to come crashing down.

  As she excused her way down the row, Jake stayed right behind her. His hand remained on her nape and didn’t leave, as if he were determined to maintain some sort of tie between them. When she reached the bottom of the stands, Jake moved to protect her from the shuffle and bump of the crowd, striding easily and predatorily and in control. It was easy to see the soldier in him, strong and tough, and she couldn’t help thinking, Wow.

  Finally they were through the gate and out into the open street behind the school grounds. The street curbs were jammed on either side with overflow parking from the school, but the two of them were alone. It felt like a special night, Rachel thought as she watched the tall leafless maples reach their black, frosty limbs high toward the black sky, so silent and still. The tidy residential street was quiet, too, as they passed Craftsman-style homes with their curtains closed and windows glowing from the lights within.

  So, this was a date. She’d never quite had one like this before, especially a first date. But as they walked companionably along the street toward the park, she thought it might be the best first date she’d ever been on. There was something right about walking at his side. Something real about the silence that lingered gently between them. She felt comfortable. She felt complete. Is he the one, Lord? Please, send me a sign, so I don’t mess this up.

  “She’s asleep.” He spoke low, hardly louder than the night, leaning closer still.

  Sally was slumped, carefully cradled, against his chest and shoulder, her weight easily secured in his strong arms. She was as relaxed as a rag doll. What a safe place to be, Rachel thought. “Maybe tonight she’ll sleep better.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  They were at the street corner, and the unlit expanse of road showed there wasn’t any reason to check for traffic. They stepped off the curb together, in synch. Their breaths rose in misty clouds at the same time and place as if they were made to be together.

  “So, tell me,” Jake broke the silence. “Why don’t you have a husband and a family to fill that big house of yours?”

  She tripped on her own feet. Real graceful, Rache. She caught herself before she could do more than stumble, but her mind couldn’t stop tumbling over his words.
Was he making pleasant conversation, or was there more to his question? “Because I’m waiting for God to send me the very best man.”

  “You’re beautiful and smart and funny—”

  “Because I trip over my own feet, you mean? Or wear those huge fuzzy slippers?”

  “Yeah, and chase a spoiled wild moose with a broom. You’re a great cook, you help run a business, everyone who knows you thinks you’re the sweetest woman ever. Including me.”

  “Really? Wow, I’m glad I’ve deceived you so much. I’m not all that sweet. I can be feisty and difficult. Just ask Paige.”

  He knew what he saw. He spent his life fighting evil men who would harm the innocent in other people’s countries to defend his own. He knew goodness when he saw it, and he loved her for it. For the humbling way she waved off the truth like a shrug of her slender shoulders. For the kindness she’d shown Sally. For the peace just being with her brought to his war-battered soul.

  He needed her. He could see now why Ben had married. Being a lone wolf had its benefits. He worked most of the year in dangerous places, it was his call of duty. But when he was home, it would be something to have a real home, to have her at his side just to talk to, to walk beside, to share a quiet evening with. Those were the real things in life, the moments that mattered, and how he felt had nothing to do with needing someone for Sally or any single influence outside of his heart. Rachel made him feel taller and stronger, more vulnerable and afraid at the same exact moment. “So, you’d like to be married like your friends I saw at the game. You just haven’t been asked by the very best man yet.”

  “Well, yes, if you want to put it that way. That’s implying the best man is out there somewhere.”

  “Maybe he’s closer than you think.”

  What did that mean? What was he saying? Rachel gave thanks that she still had the wherewithal to remember to lift her feet high enough to step over the railroad ties that marked the edge of the city park. Maybe he wasn’t talking about himself being the best man. Maybe he was trying to be encouraging. “I can hope so. So, now it’s your turn. Why aren’t you married?”