by Lisa Carter
Her confidence warmed a few of the places in his heart that had grown numb over the years.
Canyon smiled. “You are totally biased, but I love you, Jade Collier, for your faith in me.”
“Kristina’s in love with you.” Jade’s gaze bored into him. “I wish you’d allow yourself the possibility of what you two could be together.”
He wished they’d stop talking about this. “It’s not that easy.”
She tapped her boot on the pavement. “Why does your relationship with Kristina have to be so hard?”
“And what makes you the expert on relationships?”
She smirked. “I had a front-row seat with Beech and Brandi on how not to do relationships.”
Canyon reckoned she had at that.
Her lips twisted. “Poor Hap Wallace and Grandma Eileen. The Collier family track record with love leaves a lot to be desired.”
Maybe it would be better to get away from here. Start fresh somewhere else. Better for Jade? Or for him? Was he being selfish?
“Be the first to break the cycle, Jade.”
She leaned against him. “I’ve decided Gray’s not as geeky as I first believed. When he didn’t ask me to the dance, I might’ve been too hasty in writing him off.”
“Ya think?”
“He’s smart and sweet and kind.”
Canyon raised his eyebrows. “What’s not to love, right?”
She glanced at him sideways, letting him know she was aware of being gently mocked. “Gray’s got a lot of potential. We make a good team. Besides, next growth spurt he’s bound to fill out and be less skinny. What do you think?”
“I think...” He’d rather not contemplate Jade in a more grown-up relationship, even if the guy was Grayson Montgomery. “I think one day Gray may surprise you.”
He gave Jade a swift kiss on her forehead.
“What’s that for?”
“For being you.”
“Whatever. Oh, hey. Look.” She nudged him.
A fiery rim of orange topped the watery expanse. There were indrawn breaths. His included. A profound silence hung as if all of creation held its breath, too. As it had, perhaps, on the first resurrection morning.
Waiting. Yearning. Straining for the light of day. For hope to be fulfilled. For death to be vanquished. For life to triumph.
The air pulsed with color. And then the wait was over. Light burst forth into a glorious dayspring.
Pink streaked the indigo sky. A molten path of red stretched from the foaming surf on the beach to the heart of the golden orb rising from the darkness of night. And he became aware that for resurrection day to truly come, the darkness of Good Friday first had to precede it.
Something trilled in his soul. Something he’d longed for his whole life. Something more than himself. For Someone more than himself.
At last, his restlessness satisfied. Quenched not with earthly passion. Or family. Or purpose.
In that second, he knew neither Kristina nor Gray nor Jade was the answer to his heart’s stirrings. Only this One who’d conquered sin and death forever. Who—if there’d been no other as wicked as Canyon—would’ve died, gone to the grave and risen for him alone.
Reverend Parks started a hymn. Among the faithful, their voices swelled, a rising tide of acclamation.
Seth Duer and his gravelly smoker’s voice. Margaret Davenport’s determined alto. Evy Pruitt’s sweet soprano. His stumbling contribution.
Blending. Mixing. Until he could no longer distinguish one voice from the other.
He thought of his dear grandmother on a long-ago, wartime Easter, standing between the two men who would love her most.
A crescendo of praise winged across the harbor. Echoing across the ages. Culminating with him and Jade today. An unbroken anthem.
He had no idea what tomorrow would bring. No idea what would become of them. But though he might never be enough for Kristina, Canyon was possessed of a sudden certainty that God was.
And within Canyon, God would be enough for everything—past, present and future.
Reverend Parks’s voice rang out. “He is risen.”
Canyon lifted his head. For the first time in his misbegotten life, Canyon actually believed it. “He is risen indeed.”
* * *
After a brief seaside prayer, Reverend Parks directed the congregation to the fellowship hall for coffee and Long Johns.
Kristina hung back as Gray and her brother’s family headed for the church. Weaving around ‘come heres and ‘been heres, she resolved to allow nothing else to stand between her and the man she most wanted to see.
She’d gotten trapped at the hospital pending Gray’s MRI results. She’d tried calling Canyon but got his voice mail every time. Once the hospital released Gray around midnight, her son had insisted they drive over to the airfield.
But the Collier residence was dark. And she was too overwrought from the events of the past twenty-four hours to do anything but go home.
Probably for the best. Better to set things straight with Canyon after a good night’s sleep when they could both think clearly. Yet she’d lain awake, coming to grips with what she needed to say to him.
Losing sight of him for a second, she finally located the Colliers on the periphery of the thinning crowd. If she had her way, she’d make it her life’s mission to ensure Canyon and Jade were never relegated to the outskirts of the crowd—or life—ever again.
She’d hurt Canyon without meaning to. He wasn’t the strong, immovable rock he liked people to believe. She knew this because—of all the people in the world—he’d opened himself to her.
Knowledge was power, a power he’d willingly given her. She likewise had the power to wound him the most. It wasn’t a power she took lightly.
She’d replayed over and over what she’d said at the hospital and how it must’ve sounded to him. She needed to explain not only the words, but the thoughts behind her words.
Kristina hoped he’d give them a second chance.
As she approached, Jade let go of her uncle. “I’ll leave you guys to talk.” She picked her way toward the fellowship hall.
Kristina took a breath. “Canyon, we need to talk about what you thought you heard at the hospital yesterday.” She reached for him.
He moved out of her reach. “I know what I heard. And I’ll deal with it.”
This was not going in the direction she’d hoped. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He grimaced. “I’m tough. As a Collier, I’ve had to be. Some things don’t change.”
She stiffened. “If you’d stop feeling sorry for yourself and listen—”
“You’d be the expert on pity parties, wouldn’t you?”
She gasped.
This was getting out of hand. She forced herself to take a few slow, calming breaths. He was only reacting out of hurt and wrong information.
“What happened to talking to the real estate agent?” He jabbed his thumb toward the empty storefront. “What happened to moving on?”
She understood what he was doing. This was about deflecting his hurt. “Are we talking about florist shops or something else?”
“What happened to making a new life for yourself?”
She crossed her arms. “You promised you wouldn’t push.”
Canyon shook his head. “The only one who doesn’t believe you’re ready is you. And until you decide to move forward, there’s nothing anyone can say or do that will make the least difference in the world.”
Her eyes widened. “Why has this suddenly become ‘love me, love my florist shop’?”
Canyon ran his hand through his hair. “Fact is, you’ll never be ready. That’s the real truth, isn’t it, Kristina?”
She raised he
r chin. “We’re both tired. We shouldn’t be having this conversation now.” Her eyes darted left and right. “Much less in the middle of the town.”
“The time and place are never going to be right for us.” He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them. “And I’m not willing to settle for second best this time. Not with you.”
“If you’d just let me explain what I was thinking and feeling—”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Start with how you feel about me, Kristina.”
And there it was—the moment of truth. The moment to say out loud what she’d only begun to acknowledge in the secret places of her heart. She stood on the precipice of something new.
But the old Kristina warred with the Kristina she longed to be. Hesitating. Afraid to commit herself. Scared to step off the ledge. Terrified she’d fall.
“We have two children’s lives to consider,” she whispered.
“Do you love me, Kristina?”
She opened her mouth and closed it again. “I think we should go slow.”
“We go any slower and we’ll be moving in reverse.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “You still can’t say the words to me, can you?”
She squared her jaw. “You said you’d wait for me. That you’d allow me to take as much time as I needed.” She quivered. “I took off the dog tags, Canyon. I’m trying.”
“Congratulations.” His mouth contorted. “I’m thick, but I’ve finally learned my lesson. You, Kristina Montgomery, choose roots, never wings. You prefer winter to spring. And you always will.”
“Don’t be this way, Canyon.” She grabbed for his arm. “If you’d only be patient a little while longer—”
He wrenched away. “I’m heading out of state to fight wildfires for a few weeks.” His mouth drooped. “Time for clarity. Time to surrender foolish dreams that’ll never have any basis in reality.”
“You’re leaving?” She stared at him. “What about Jade? What about us? Wildfires aren’t safe.”
“According to you, there is no us.” His eyes flashed. “You’re the one who’s not safe. There’s no safe landing zone with you.”
His words cut like a sharp blade. “Aerial application isn’t the only thing you’re an expert at, Canyon.” Her nostrils flared. “Avoidance, too.”
Canyon shrugged. “Like you, old habits die hard. I’ll return to fulfill the rest of my contracts with area farmers. After I’ve had time to sort through what I want for my future and Jade’s.”
Tears burned the back of her eyelids. “You promised you wouldn’t give up on us. You promised.”
He looked at her then, long and hard, with those sky-blue eyes that tore at her heart. Anger and hurt. Hurt beyond repair?
“I said I’d never give up on us as long as I was sure you’d be waiting for me at the end of the day.”
Her heart thudded.
The anger drained from his face. Only the sadness remained. His shoulders slumped.
“And of that I’m can no longer be sure.” He took a step. “I have arrangements to make with Margaret.”
Clutching her arms around her body, she couldn’t hold back the tears. “Canyon...”
“Goodbye, Kris.”
This time, he walked away from her.
Chapter Nineteen
On the ridge below, the silver foil shelters glinted amid the raging inferno. Sizing up the situation, Canyon decided he couldn’t land the Bell helo he’d borrowed from the Forest Service when the distress call came in to base camp.
The wildfire had jumped the break the hotshots had created. Within sight of base camp, an unexpected flare-up had cut off the half dozen men. They’d raced uphill only to become trapped by the dense forest erupting into flames. Out of options, they deployed their shelters. Hunkered down, they prepared for the worst.
From his vantage point in the sky, he could see the flames hurtling through the trees. Coming too hot and too fast. The firefighters wouldn’t survive.
The trees caught fire, popping like firecrackers. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t hold this position. The howling wind—whipped into a fury by the blazing heat—buffeted the chopper.
And in that split second, he had a choice.
His heart ratcheted. His thoughts flew to Jade. To Kristina and Gray. What about them?
Yet the brave men on the ground had children and sweethearts, too. He couldn’t get another picture out of his mind—the Easter sunrise over the harbor. And the One who’d also made a painful choice to give Canyon new life.
His hand steadied on the stick. His heart settled into a regular rhythm. There was one chance. An open area, which he believed would slow the fire long enough for the crew to reach another clearing.
A safe zone in which he could land. If the crew could make it there in time. The urgency mounted.
He made a risky, life-altering decision. If he was wrong...they’d all die. He swallowed past the bile clogging his throat.
Reaching, he keyed the radio. Hovering low, he called to the fire crew on the ground. “Get out of the shelters. Follow me and run.”
The crew threw off their shelters. Blades whirring, he led the way toward the lone uninvolved path to safety. As the crew cleared the conflagration, a tree to his right exploded like a matchstick, shattering the air in a sonic boom. The chopper whiplashed.
Gritting his teeth, he fought to control the bucking helo. He was too low. The fire was too close. He was going down...
* * *
On day seventeen of Canyon’s trip, Kristina found herself on the flagstone terrace of Inglenook having tea. She frowned into her cup. She’d begun to think of Canyon’s absence as an exile.
He was already three days past his deadline for returning home. For returning to Jade, as he’d promised. But not to her. He’d made that much perfectly clear.
There was no her and him. No them. From his nightly phone calls to Jade—Gray kept Kristina informed—Canyon blamed his continuing absence on the sudden outbreak of a new fire.
Everyone in Kiptohanock followed news accounts of the raging inferno. The networks replayed the footage of men trapped on a mountain with no hope of escape. Until the blue-and-white helicopter guided them to a safe landing zone.
The rescue made national headlines. She believed her heart might stop the first time she viewed the clip. Because it also revealed what a close call it had been for Canyon, too.
“A singular act of courage,” one network anchor called Canyon’s heroism.
“Going beyond the call of duty to help those who couldn’t help themselves,” the captain of the rescued fire crew declared.
Earning media-shy Canyon Collier a commendation from the US Forest Service, a Pilot of the Year award from the international aviation association and an invitation to the White House.
Kristina alternated between being proud and worried for his safety. In other words, she spent a lot of time on her knees.
She missed Jade, living for the duration at Inglenook. Which sounded as if Jade were incarcerated with Margaret. Not the case at all. To hear Gray tell it, Jade and Margaret were having a blast.
Most of all, she missed Canyon. Kristina set the cup into the saucer with a clatter.
“That cup belonged to my great-grandmother.” Margaret rested against the cushion in the scrolled iron chair. “I’d like to think it will survive another generation, if you please.”
Kristina was about done being a doormat. “Why did you invite me here?”
“Testy these days, aren’t you, dear? Feeling lovelorn?”
Kristina pushed against the table. The chair scraped across the flagstone. “I think we’re finished.”
Margaret laid her hand over Kristina’s.
Half in, half out of her chair, she froze at the usually aloof wom
an’s surprising touch.
“I’m sorry.” Margaret patted her hand. “Forgive me for the habits of a lifetime. I’m trying to change.” She gave Kristina a rueful smile. “Having Jade here these last few weeks has been such a joy. And set so many things right in my own mind.”
An apology? From Margaret Davenport? Stunned, Kristina sank into the chair.
She gripped the iron armrests, the metallic surface cold against her palms. “Is this about Canyon?”
Margaret’s elegantly clad shoulders rose and fell. “Not entirely. But I’ll eventually get around to him, of course.”
Which made about as much sense as Kristina’s contrary refusal to admit her love for Canyon on Easter morning.
She’d had seventeen long days to berate herself for relapsing into stupid fears. “What’s this about, Margaret?”
“After my mother passed, I was all Canyon’s grandmother had left. Hap had died. Canyon was stationed off-Shore with the Guard. You know about Beech.”
Kristina folded her hands in her lap.
Margaret’s gaze drifted to the cordgrass waving in the marshy inlet. “Eileen was alone so much with only her flowers for comfort.” Her mouth tightened.
Kristina figured Margaret knew something about being lonely. She wondered how much time Margaret had spent alone in this magnificent tidewater mansion. Regretting missed opportunities. Like Kristina regretted hers.
“Eileen never got over believing Freddie Collier would wing his way home one day.”
Kristina thought of the hours she’d spent gazing at the sky over the last few days. Anxious for the sound of Canyon’s plane. Wondering when he’d return.
Margaret’s face grew pensive. “A delusion made worse, I always believed, because of the lack of a body for closure.”
“You and Canyon’s mother must’ve been about the same age.”
“In the youth group.” She gave Kristina a wry smile. “If you can imagine old fogies like us being teenagers.”
Margaret dropped her gaze. “Amber couldn’t wait to leave Kiptohanock. To escape her mother’s overwhelming grief. She inherited a wanderlust from her father. His absence shadowed both their lives. It doesn’t take a psychologist to understand Amber’s self-destructive choices.”
