Morgan's Wife

by Lindsay McKenna

  Noah was right, Jim decided. Time could be his friend. But it could be his enemy, too. Somehow, he had to figure out a way to let Pepper know she was part of his life. Some kind of foundation had to be laid so she understood that his kiss had been the seal of a new relationship—not something taken from her in a stolen moment.

  “Hey, Pepper!” Joe Conway stood at the door to the cavernous structure where they laid out and folded the smoke-jumping parachutes.

  Pepper raised her head. She was at one of the tables, refolding one of her chutes. It was lunchtime and the rest of her team was over at the chow hall. Their smoke-jumping facility was a few miles outside Phillipsburg, next to the small airport there.

  Joe looked at her expectantly. “What?” she asked shortly.

  “You aren’t going to believe it, but in the middle of this snowstorm, a florist truck pulled up. Phillipsburg doesn’t have a florist, so this guy must have come all the way from Anaconda, the poor bastard. Bad day to be driving.” He flashed her a happy smile and opened the door with a flourish.

  Frowning, Pepper saw a man bundled in a heavy wool coat and hat carrying a large, long box under his right arm. He was an older gentleman, with silver in his hair. He removed his hat and thanked Joe for opening the door. Then Joe, her second in command, pointed at her. Joe was tall, brash and only twenty-eight, full of Irish blarney right up to his dancing green eyes and black hair. Was this a trick? He’d been known to pull plenty of practical jokes, especially at this time of year, when things slowed down and got a little too boring around the camp to suit him.

  The older man stepped up to her, his hat in one hand, the mysterious box in the other. He smiled, his brown eyes crinkling with warmth as he nodded at her. “Are you Ms. Sinclair?”

  “Yes.” Pepper watched him break into a wide smile.

  “I got this special order at our shop in Anaconda.” Chuckling, he said, “I gotta tell you, the roads are pretty slick out there. That snow’s fallin’ faster than the plows can remove it.” He offered her the large box. “These are for you.”

  Though completely puzzled and still wary of a trick, Pepper accepted the box and thanked him. When he’d left, Joe wandered over.

  “What’s inside?” He peered at the box, placing his hands behind his back.

  “I don’t know.” Pepper took a pair of scissors and cut one of the tight plastic straps that held the box together.

  Joe raised his thick, black eyebrows. “Secret admirer, huh? I knew something special was going on while you were mysteriously gone that week.”

  “Quit,” Pepper ordered, as she snipped the rest of the straps.

  Chuckling, Joe shoved his hands in the pockets of his Levi’s and rocked back on the heels of his jump boots. “You were awful down and quiet when you got back.” He gestured to the box. “Must have met some dark, mysterious stranger wherever you were and fallen in love with him. Maybe that’s why you were so hang-dog lookin’, huh?” His eyes glinted with teasing.

  Pepper held on to her irritation. Sometimes Joe could make her split her sides with laughter. But today wasn’t one of those days. This first week back home had been a special and unexpected kind of hell for her. She had tried to forget Jim’s kiss and his words, which haunted her dreams each night. They were torrid dreams, unfulfilled dreams that made her wake with an ache in her lower body. Shooting Joe a dirty look, she growled, “For once your Irish blarney is totally wrong.” Setting the scissors aside, she opened the box. Her eyes widened. The fragrance of roses wafted upward, and she inhaled deeply.

  “Hmm,” Joe murmured, leaning over, “looks like this Irishman is right—again. Too bad I didn’t put money on a bet. I could’ve taken you for a real ride on this one, Sinclair. Red and yellow roses. I’ll bet there are two dozen in there.”

  “Get out of here,” Pepper said lightly, matching his teasing tone. Her heart was pounding, not from Joe’s prophecy, but from her overwhelming surprise at the gift. Her instincts told her it was from Jim. But was it? Or was it her silly heart in overdrive again, creating wishful, idealistic dreams that would never come true? Pepper saw Joe’s mouth draw into a beatific smile of righteous pride. “You’re such a know-it-all, Conway,” she said dryly, waving her hand at him to leave.

  Laughing heartily, he gently patted her shoulder. “Okay, boss, I’ll leave you to savor the roses alone.” He walked a few feet, then turned around. “By the way, who’s the lucky guy? Does the team know him?”

  Heat stung Pepper’s cheeks. “None of your business, nosy. Why don’t you go eat?” She put the top back on the box and went to her office. Joe was like a younger brother to her, but at times he was too curious and got under her skin. He had been especially curious about where she’d gone for a week and what had happened. Of course, Pepper hadn’t told anyone, nor would she. As far as her smoke-jumping team was concerned, she’d taken a week’s leave to go back East to visit an old friend, and that was all.

  Joe raised his hand. “I hear ya, boss. Okay, I’m gone. I’ll eat an extra piece of apple pie for you. I hear Sally made us some. Bless her good Catholic heart. Too bad she’s not Irish, but I love her anyway. Catch ya later….”

  The door closed.

  Pepper shook her head. “You’re such a pain in the neck sometimes,” she muttered, gently touching the roses. Opening the crinkly paper wider she discovered a pristine white envelope among the blossoms.

  The past seven days had been bone-achingly lonely for Pepper. None of her friends, though glad to see her, had succeeded in filling the empty cavity in her heart that they’d once satisfied so easily. If only Jim hadn’t branded her with that all-consuming kiss. Somehow he’d touched the depths of her soul and reminded her just what was missing in her life—a man she could love forever. But the price was too high, and Pepper knew it.

  Her fingers trembled as she eased the envelope open. Inside was a small white card, which read: From the heart, Jim Woodward. Pepper stared at it for a long time, digesting his sentiment. It was vague, but at the same time, it wasn’t. Needled, she forced herself to count the roses. Joe was right—there were twenty-four in all. Half were red, the others a buttery yellow. Their fragrance was heady, and Pepper suddenly laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. Here she was, tucked away in some of the most beautiful back country of the Rockies. There were near-blizzard conditions outside, with the temperature in the teens and the evergreens coated with a thick blanket of white snow. And she had two dozen roses. Beautiful, wonderful fragrant roses from a man she’d never dreamed she’d hear from again.

  Pepper stopped at the Phillipsburg post office, part of her evening routine after getting off work. She expected very little mail—maybe some catalogs and certainly the perennial bills, but no personal correspondence. To her surprise, a long, business-size envelope lay in her box, thick and heavy. She stood in her colorful Pendleton jacket, a knit cap on her head and her gloves tucked under her arm as she examined the piece of mail. It bore no return address, just her name and address. The postmark, however, was from Washington, D.C. Her heart began a slow pounding of anticipation—and fear.

  First the roses, which were out in her truck even now, with the heater running so they wouldn’t freeze in this terrible snowstorm. Now a mysterious letter. Pepper jammed the envelope into the large pocket of her jacket, pulled up her collar and put her gloves back on. She would wait until she got home to read it. There was no doubt in her mind that it was from Jim.

  As she drove slowly down Main Street, the town already wreathed in near darkness at four-thirty in the afternoon, Pepper tried to contain her wild imagination. She concentrated on driving, careful not to slide off into the ditch as she left the center of town behind. Two miles down the road, she turned left. A mile farther along the rutted, fir tree-lined road, now coated with ice, she was home. Pepper had built the cedar-log cabin herself over three years’ time, with a lot of help from her smoke-jumper friends and her family. It had been a weekend project, and many memories of laughter and shari
ng had worked their way into her home as a result.

  The cedar logs were barely visible in her headlights as she pulled into her driveway. Getting out, she tramped through the snow, the wind howling around her as she opened the garage door. Once she’d driven inside, Pepper shut off the engine, got out and shut the door behind her. She felt like a kid at Christmas with the huge box of roses under her arm and the letter in her pocket. Nudging off her boots at the door to the service porch connected to the garage, she went inside.

  Her cabin was cool, so she laid everything on the kitchen table and went on into the living room. After making a fire in her Earth Stove, the environmentally benign wood-burning stove she’d installed for heating, she got up, dusted off her hands and went back to the kitchen. First she took the roses out of their box and arranged them in the largest glass vase she had. Inhaling their fragrance, she carried them into the living room and set them on the cedar coffee table.

  Standing by the stove, feeling the first tendrils of heat from the newly made fire, Pepper carefully opened the thick envelope. Her heart thumped as she unfolded several handwritten pages. Jim’s name, address and phone number were in the upper-left hand corner of the first page. Trying to still her pounding heart, she began to read the letter with an unexpected hunger:

  Dear Pepper,

  By now, you’ve got the roses I sent you. It’s the least I could do, under the circumstances. When I found your note under my door on the cutter, it jolted me out of my narrow focus. I talked to Noah, and he told me you’d left. To say I was unhappy about your leaving the ship doesn’t begin to describe how I felt.

  There was so much going down after the mission that I lost my sense of balance. Laura’s health, her nearly dying, scared the hell out of me. I was so worried about her that I forgot to think of you and how you might be feeling. I know you weren’t wounded in the action, and you came through it with flying colors, but that doesn’t matter. I should have paid more attention to your needs, whatever they might have been.

  We went through a lot, you and I, in a very short, intense amount of time. And I went from almost disliking you to feelings that I can’t begin to explain in the confines of this letter, Pepper. But first I want to say I’m sorry for ignoring you on the cutter. Looking back on it, I should have known better. I know what combat does to a person, and about the necessary letdown period afterward. You took the high ground, and whatever you were feeling, you didn’t tell me.

  I wish you had. I wish…so much. To say I’m feeling a little guilty is an understatement. We almost died on that island. If it hadn’t been for your bravery and levelheadedness, we would never have gotten Laura out safely. And yet you kept to yourself. I asked Noah if you’d talked to him, and he said no. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Pepper. I should have been.

  The roses are a way of apologizing to you. I wasn’t a very good team member for you. Experiences like this bond people for life, and I felt that bonding with you on that island. I dropped the ball when Laura stopped breathing. So the yellow roses are asking you to forgive my all-too-human failings.

  The red roses are to ask if there is a future for us. I know I have no right to ask that of you, but I meant what I said on the island. When I kissed you, you cried, and I never found out what those tears were about. I guess it was the wrong place and the wrong time.

  I’m pretty busy here at the Pentagon right now. We still haven’t got a lead on Jason or Morgan—yet. I’m spending about sixteen hours a day working with the communications people, trying to ferret out something in all that worldwide traffic via satellite. When I’m not working, I’m exhausted and inevitably, you come to mind. Our conversations are like water to me, Pepper. I’m thirsty to hear what is in your mind and heart. I felt cheated when you left, but I don’t blame you for going. I think I understand why you did. Or at least I hope I do.

  Some night, if you don’t mind, I’d like to call you. But it’s your decision, not mine, to make. I’ve enclosed a self-addressed, stamped envelope. If you want me to call, just mail it back to me. I can’t make up for what wasn’t given to you, Pepper. Maybe, if you’re willing, we can talk. I’d like that very much. I hope to hear from you. Take care.

  Jim

  Pepper released a small, shaky sigh. Jim’s writing was far from legible, but she realized how he must have labored over the letter. There wasn’t a single ink smudge, and she smiled a little. Once an officer, always an officer. The fact that he’d handwritten it instead of using a computer meant a lot to her. Fingering the return envelope, she wondered if she wanted to talk to him. After all, what was there to talk about? He loved Laura, not her. He spoke of the future, but what kind of future could there be for them?

  Unhappily, she moved away from the stove and gently laid the letter on the coffee table, next to the roses. Her heart couldn’t seem to settle down, nor would her flights of imagination. Looking out her front windows, she saw the snow thickening and blowing even harder. How lonely she’d felt until Jim’s letter had come. But were his gifts nothing more than a request for atonement?

  Turning, Pepper went to her bedroom to shed her dark green trousers and long-sleeved, tan blouse. She’d worn the official Forest Service uniform all day; now she wanted to relax in a far more feminine velour lounger of pale pink. Still, the cabin felt terribly empty, and as Pepper undressed, trading her uniform for civilian clothes, she wondered what it would be like if Jim were here, in her home. The mere thought made her shaky, her feelings raw and clamoring. She had to admit she wasn’t sure she could control herself if he was here and kissed her as he had on the island—touched her as he’d touched her then.

  With a shake of her head, Pepper wondered if she was getting winter fever early. Tomorrow she might mail back the envelope, but she was still uncertain. It would be a crazy move if she did. A desperate one.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was Friday night, and Pepper was wrestling with a ton of paperwork, mostly supply orders to replace equipment lost or damaged during the past year’s fires. A headache lapped at her right temple and across her forehead, and she rubbed the area as she concentrated on filling out the government paperwork.

  Her office was in a small niche within the parachute facility. It was six o’clock, a good hour past quitting time, and her mind strayed, as it so often did, to Jim. She felt nervous and edgy. Telling herself she was chasing a pipe dream, she’d given in and sent the envelope back four days ago, after three long weeks of resisting.

  Closing her eyes, she rested her hand against her brow and sighed softly. Her emotions seesawed among euphoria, anger, helplessness and absolute fear. She’d never had this chaotic experience before, so she didn’t know how to cope with it. It must be romantic love, she decided—the very kind of love Pepper had made her life-altering decision not to experience again after John died. Never again could she risk the pain that came from losing the one she loved. It just wasn’t worth it. Her parents had a wonderful marriage—one they worked on continually. Neither of them took it or the other for granted. That was the kind of love Pepper had expected to share with John, but fate had decided otherwise. Now, at thirty, she had to remember why she’d made her decision not to get involved again.

  Her office door was open just enough so she could hear the comings and goings of her team. Everyone had left right at five tonight. After all, it was the week before Christmas, and there were parties to attend, gifts to be bought and wrapped, places to go, people to see. Glumly, Pepper opened her eyes and frowned down at the piles of paperwork. The only person she wanted to see was Jim.

  Out in the main room the outside door quietly opened and closed. But peering into the shadowy depths, Pepper saw no one. Her imagination?

  “Stop it,” she muttered, irritated with herself and her unrequited longing. “You are such a stupid idealist. The sooner you get this paperwork done, the sooner you can go home.” Home to an empty cabin. Home to the silence. Loneliness gnawed at Pepper as if it had carved a wide swath through
her center.

  A noise, the sound of footsteps, caught her attention. Frowning, Pepper put her pen aside. Someone had come in the door at the other end of the facility. It was fairly dark, save for the emergency lights at the exits, and she didn’t want whoever it was stumbling and breaking an ankle. The building was a huge Quonset hut from the Korean War era, made of corrugated aluminum. The floor was concrete, and the whole structure was large and empty, save for the area where parachutes were folded, hung and repaired.

  Easing out of her squeaky leather chair, Pepper crossed to her office door and pushed it all the way open, sending a wide path of light into the gloomy building. She saw a shadow—a man, she thought—halfway to her office. Who was it? Pepper could recognize most of her crew by physical build, but this wasn’t one of them. Still, there was something oddly familiar about this man, though she couldn’t place him. Leaving her office, she moved down the wall to the main electricity supply. She flipped several switches and turned around to face her visitor.

  Pepper’s mouth dropped open. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

  “Jim!” His name echoed oddly through the building.

  Jim halted about fifty feet from her and gave her a strained, slight smile. “I’ll give you this,” he said, embarrassed, “you made me use all of my Recon training to find you.” Looking around, his mouth stretching into a wider smile, he moved his gaze back to her shocked features. “This is one hell of a hole in the wall.”

  She could only stare. Had she gone crazy? Was this some kind of waking dream? Jim Woodward stood before her, a huge pot of bright red poinsettias in his hands. He wore comfortable-looking, dark blue chinos, leather hiking boots and a bright red flannel shirt beneath a well-worn leather jacket. How handsome he looked. How much she’d missed him. Pepper swallowed convulsively, meeting and drowning in his amused green gaze.