by Lisa Carter
Something he’d never aspired to be. Someone he wasn’t capable of becoming. Not for the first time, the Collier family mantle hung heavy.
At the clink of dishes, she turned toward the sounds of running water in the kitchen. “Pax was wonderful.” Her face fell. “But he had a love affair with flying machines. A love that eventually took his life two years ago.”
Canyon straightened. “The air disaster in Thailand?”
“No.” Her mouth thinned. “Afghanistan.”
His lips parted. “I didn’t realize...your husband was military?”
She nodded.
An image emerged in his mind, based on other airmen he’d known. Solid guys. Intelligent. Gutsy. The kind who chose to put themselves in harm’s way when bullets were flying. Heroes.
His admiration for the dead man rose. As did his admiration for Kristina. “You’re a military widow.”
Military wives didn’t get the appreciation they deserved for their behind-the-scenes service to their country.
Her eyes clouded. “Our numbers are growing due to recent global conflicts. It’s a club no one wants to join.”
She leaned over to straighten the already tidy coffee table. As much as anything, maybe to give her hands something to do.
His heart lurched. “You were the one left to pick up the pieces. To somehow put your family together again without your husband.”
Kristina’s mouth trembled. “Sometimes in dealing with Gray I think it would’ve been better if I’d been the one to die.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Paxton was so strong. So confident.” She sank into an armchair.
He eased onto the sofa. “I don’t believe it would’ve been better for you to die. Gray wouldn’t think so, either. He’s just in a difficult phase right now. I’ve been there.”
She shook herself. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. We’re practically strangers.”
Canyon longed to touch her hand, to reassure her. But he was afraid. Of himself and the way Kristina Montgomery made him feel. “Your son’s trying to move beyond childhood—who he’s been—toward who he wants to become.”
She ran her thumb over the small exposed portion of the chain. “Aren’t we all?”
“True enough. But I also think you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re stronger than you realize.”
Her eyes lifted to meet his. “You’re incredibly easy to talk to, Canyon.”
Canyon’s eyebrow arched. “Nobody’s ever said that to me before.”
She raised her chin. “Maybe what I’ve needed is an objective ear.”
He scrubbed his hand over his mouth. Objective? His objectivity when it came to Kristina and her son was decreasing by the moment. Scaring him, like he’d gone into a free fall and lost control of the aircraft.
“Maybe Gray and I are both on the threshold of becoming who we want to be. Who we were always meant to be.” She tensed. “If only I could get beyond the fear.”
“I know a surefire way to jump-start the process.” He rubbed his suddenly perspiring hands across the thighs of his jeans. “Are you ready to get a tiny glimpse of your husband’s world?”
She laid her palms flat on the armrest of the chair and studied him. “Your world, too.”
“Gives me a new perspective every time. Monday morning after the kids go to school, how about you take that trip with me into the sky?”
Her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “In your airplane?”
Canyon’s lips curved. “Unless you can flap your arms fast enough, yeah.”
She gave him a shaky laugh. “So soon?”
He leaned his elbows on his knees. “Talk is cheap, Kristina Montgomery. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
She squared her shoulders. “Are you daring me to go?
He cocked his head. “Consider it a leap of faith. Gaining a God-sized perspective on where you’ve been and where you want to go. And I’ll throw in a free flying lesson.”
Kristina’s mouth fell open. “Flying lessons? How did we go from an aerial tour of the Eastern Shore to me taking control of an airplane?”
He rolled his tongue in his cheek. “And here I believed taking control would be your thing.”
She sniffed. “You don’t think I’ll accept, do you?”
He pursed his lips. “I think you can do anything you set your mind to. Trouble is, getting you to believe that, too.”
She extended her hand. “All right then. You’ve got a deal.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “But I insist you let me use my accounting degree and get your books up-to-date.”
His hand closed around hers. A tingle shot up his arm. “Fair enough.” He squeezed her fingers before letting go. “0900 sharp.”
Canyon’s heart raced with a mixture of dread and excitement. So much for avoiding the Widow Montgomery. And he pondered just how much this flying lesson would cost him.
Chapter Five
On Saturday, Gray set off after breakfast to work at the airfield. Kristina expected Jade to be a late riser, but the teenager soon clomped downstairs in her black combat boots. And settled in a chair at the red kitchenette table.
Kristina leaned against the countertop, sipping from her second cup of coffee.
Over a plate of crispy bacon and steaming eggs, the teenager did a studied inventory of the kitchen. “You like old stuff.”
Kristina nodded. “Old-fashioned, but I find something comforting about the tried and the true.” She took another sip. “I guess I’m hopelessly outdated.”
Jade’s gaze roamed from the vintage embroidered tea towel draped over the drain board to the red-checked gingham curtains at the window. “Not outdated. Retro. And it’s cool.” Her kohl-rimmed eyes caught Kristina’s before sliding away. “Like a real home should look.”
Despite Jade’s air of indifference, she was still such a child. Kristina’s heart ached at the grim picture Canyon had painted of Jade’s childhood.
She couldn’t understand why she felt so drawn to Jade. But she’d spent a lot of time praying last night—the second time in twelve hours—for wisdom in dealing with the raw, gaping wounds in the girl’s heart. Beneath the layers of makeup and metallic ear studs, Kristina sensed a genuine goodness in Jade. Disillusioned and guarded, yet someone badly in need of a second chance.
Not unlike Kristina herself.
The makeup and the clothing, she suspected, were a way to deflect anyone from getting too close. A mask for Jade’s low self-esteem.
Jade pushed away from the table. “Thanks for breakfast.” The chair scraped across the black checkerboard linoleum. “And for letting me spend my first night here.” She carried her plate to the sink. “I’ll wash the dishes. I owe you.”
Kristina set her cup on the counter. “You don’t owe me. Neighbors being neighborly is the Kiptohanock way.”
Jade gave her a look out of the corner of her eyes. “For real? Like Mayberry?”
Kristina laughed. “Not quite, but something like that.”
“I’m still going to wash the dishes for you.”
Jade was eminently salvageable. Infinitely worth rescuing. But as prickly as a catfish. She’d need to move carefully with her.
She laid her hand on Jade’s shoulder, squeezed and moved away before Jade could react. “You may be the best houseguest I’ve ever had. I’m not going to want you to ever leave.”
A small smile curved Jade’s mouth before she turned the smile into a frown.
“There’s something else you could help me with today.”
Jade turned on the faucet. “What’s that?”
“I’ve got to cut some flowers in my yard.”
Jade plugged the drain and squirted detergent under the spray of water. “Why?”
“For an altar ar
rangement at the worship service tomorrow.”
Jade’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know anything about flowers.” She scrubbed the plates.
“I could use your help. It’s a two-person job, especially when it comes to transporting the vases.”
“Whatever.”
Taking that as near to an affirmation as she’d get, Kristina dried while Jade finished washing the dishes. “Go get your coat. It’s cold outside.”
Jade took the stairs two at a time and returned with her coat.
Retrieving a plastic bucket from underneath the sink, Kristina filled the bucket halfway with lukewarm water. She lifted the bucket out of the sink and set it between them.
After donning her own coat, she extracted a flat, open basket from the confines of a Hoosier-style cupboard. “Tools of the trade.” She laid two orange-handled clippers inside the basket.
Jade heaved the bucket of water. “I’ll carry this for you.”
Kristina smiled. “Thank you, Jade. That’s so considerate of you.”
To illustrate how little she cared, Jade scowled.
Note to self—praise Jade more often for good work.
The basket on her arm, Kristina shoved open the door with her shoulder. Lugging the bucket, Jade sloshed into the backyard.
“Morning is the best time to cut flowers, when the stems are fully hydrated. In the heat of the day, the petals droop.”
Jade shot a scoffing look at the overcast winter sky. “What heat?”
Kristina headed toward a bright spot of pink blooming amid a profusion of dark green leaves. Placing the basket on the ground, she motioned for Jade to set the bucket alongside.
The look on Jade’s face was comical when Kristina handed her one of the clippers. “You want me to cut the flowers?”
Kristina took the other pair and opened the blades along a stem line. “Look for a branch with multiple buds. One bud should show color and another just starting to open.”
Jade reached for a higher branch. “Like this one?”
“Good eye.” Kristina positioned her clippers. “Now slice at a forty-five-degree angle about an inch from the bottom. Where it joins the main stem line.”
“I can’t.” Jade backed away. “I’ll butcher the bush.”
Flagging self-confidence. Kristina recognized the feeling all too well. And refused to be put off by Jade’s thorny demeanor.
“Just try. No harm, no foul.”
The teenager glared. “That sounds like something Canyon would say.”
Kristina tilted her head. “Even if you mess up the first time, you’ll do better the next. The flowers will grow back.”
Jade made an elaborate shrug. “It’s your bush. Don’t blame me when I kill it.”
They worked in silence. Cutting flowers was not the time to dilly-dally. It was important to immerse the cut stems immediately.
“Pruning the shrub is actually good for the long-term health of the plant.”
Jade eyed Kristina. “How’s that?”
“Master gardeners know that periodic cutting promotes future flowering. Like deadheading.”
Jade snorted. “Sounds like a zombie heavy metal band.”
“What do you mean?”
“Deadheading. You know, zombies.” Jade tapped her forehead. “Dead. Heads.”
Kristina laughed. “Did you make a joke, Jade Collier? A gardening joke?”
“Don’t tell anyone.” Jade batted her long dark lashes. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
Kristina wanted to tell her she didn’t need so much mascara on those lovely eyes of hers, but instead she deposited her clippers in the basket. “I think we have enough for the arrangement.”
Jade took charge of the flower-laden bucket. “Are you a master gardener, Kristina?”
She held the door as Jade trudged inside. “No, I just like flowers. Put the bucket on the table, please.”
Kristina put away the basket and laid several sharp cutting knives on the farm table. “Can I hand you the vases?”
Stretching, she removed several vases from the top shelf of the cupboard. She passed them one at a time to Jade and then carried a third one to the table.
With her finger, Jade traced the ivy vine across the front of one of the crackled, black-footed vases. “These look old.”
“My mother’s.”
The girl sighed. “Canyon says this used to be his grandmother’s house before she died. He and Beech grew up here.”
Kristina frowned. “I didn’t realize it was a family home when I bought it.”
Which was crazy. Of course it had been some family’s home. She just hadn’t thought about it being Canyon’s family home.
It made her pulse race to think of him here. Which was ridiculous. But it was strange thinking of a younger Canyon living here.
Kristina wondered which bedroom had been his. Maybe—based on his wistful reaction yesterday—the guest room where she’d placed Jade.
His feet might’ve dangled underneath this very farmhouse table—that and the cupboard she’d purchased with the property.
Kristina pulled out a chair and sat across from Jade. “And if I hadn’t bought it, this would be your home. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not sorry.” Jade placed her palms on the scarred wooden surface. “If you hadn’t bought it, I wouldn’t have ever met you.” Her eyes cut quickly to Kristina’s and just as quickly darted away.
But not quickly enough that Kristina failed to spot tears welling in Jade’s misty-green eyes.
Jade lifted her chin. “Canyon needed the money to get the Cessna. You have to invest in a business if you want it to succeed. Update and diversify.”
The girl had apparently listened more intently to Gray yesterday than Kristina had supposed.
Kristina cocked her head. “Aren’t you the budding entrepreneur?”
Jade smirked. “Did you just make a joke, Kristina? A gardening joke?”
“Don’t tell anyone.” Her lips quirked. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
Jade laughed.
Pulling one branch out of the water, Kristina showed Jade how to split the ends of the stalk. “It’s called preparing the stem, so it can absorb more water.”
“How’d you learn about this stuff?”
Kristina removed the lower leaves from the branch. “A part-time job at a florist shop when I was in college.”
She handed another stem to Jade. “Leave the pair of leaves closest to the blossom. Remove the rest. They foster bacterial growth when underwater.”
Kristina placed small pin-holder frogs in the bottoms of the vases. After positioning a few stems, she left a skeptical Jade to finish filling the vase and start on the other two.
As she poured a bottle of lemon-lime soda into a pitcher, Jade crinkled her nose. “Is that for us to drink?”
“For the flowers to drink.”
Mixing one part soda to three parts water, Kristina added a few drops of bleach. She returned to the table with the pitcher and surveyed Jade’s handiwork.
“You’ve got the touch.”
Jade stiffened, unsure if she was being mocked.
Kristina filled the vases three-quarters full with the liquid mixture. “The floral designer touch. These look great.”
Prompting another scowl. “Really?”
“Couldn’t have done better myself.”
Jade’s shoulders relaxed a tad. “What now?”
“We need to transport these to the church.” She hurried to clear their workspace. “Tomorrow’s the first Sunday in Lent.”
Kristina nestled the vases side by side in a plastic tub so they wouldn’t overturn on the ride to Kiptohanock.
With Jade in the passenger seat holding the tu
b in her arms, they reached the village without mishap. Kristina parked outside the church as the sun peeked from behind a cloud.
Inside, Jade’s steps faltered. Her eyes cut from one side of the church to the other. The wooden pews. The stained-glass depiction of Jesus above the baptistry behind the pulpit. And finally rested on the gleaming altar cross.
“I’ve never been inside a church before,” she whispered.
And suddenly Kristina was glad her upbringing had included the church in Richmond where she’d met and married Pax. A heritage she’d taken for granted.
She recalled other sanctuaries, too, scattered across a half dozen bases, where she’d found comfort during Pax’s long deployments. Where she’d taught Gray about faith.
Kristina gulped past the rising emotion, remembering one final time in her Richmond home church at the memorial service for Pax.
Looking back on her grief, she wasn’t sure how she would’ve survived without her parents’ steadfast support and the gentle, uplifting comfort of her church family.
She was ashamed at how she’d turned away from her faith. And at the example she’d set for Gray these last two years. Hers had been a surface faith since Pax died. She’d been so hung up on the why and the unfairness of his death.
In the stillness of the Eastern Shore sanctuary, for the first time in a long while, she experienced a yearning to make her faith real again. One look at the teenage girl’s face and Kristina knew Jade felt something, too.
Something powerful and lovely in this place. A holy place, a sacred place. Because of the One who dwelled here in the midst of His people.
Her footfalls hushed on the carpet, Jade carried the tub of flowers to the altar. “What’s Lent, Kristina?”
She explained the significance of the weeks leading up to Easter, another term that required an explanation. Jade listened as Kristina placed the two taller vases on either side of the cross. “Let’s put the oval one in front.”
Jade stepped away to admire the effect. “Why three?”
“Florists always work with three.” She touched the base of the brass cross. “Seems especially appropriate here. Father, Son and Holy Spirit.”
