Threads of Love

by Frances Devine

  “I’m ready.” Never had Misty’s return been so welcomed.

  With control Danni envied, Trace moved away. He caught up his niece and lifted her onto her horse. “Okay, squirt. You know the drill. No running ahead. No—”

  “Ignoring you or the horse. And always be aware of my surroundings. I know.” She gave her uncle a sassy roll of her eyes. “I’ve done this like a thousand times.”

  “Watch yourself.” Trace winked at her then mounted his Paint. “Danni, you might want to use the mounting block because of your knee.”

  She led her horse to the three-step block next to the open bay doors. “Planned on it.”

  Once she was settled in the saddle, they left the stable. Trace led their little group with Misty next to him. Bringing up the rear, Danni sat back and enjoyed the ride and scenery.

  While the Pacific Ocean was beautiful, nothing compared to the Rocky Mountains. The cloud-covered peaks and the lush valleys were breathtaking. She’d missed looking out her window each morning to stare at them. Her gaze slid to Trace. As much as she’d missed him.

  Whoa! Where’d that come from? She’d been an awful friend and forgot about him. Hadn’t she?

  Looking back over the last ten years or so, she guessed she really hadn’t forgotten about him as much as she thought. There were moments like when she played for the soldiers in South Carolina when she wondered if Trace was there to watch her. Or when she was laid up in the hospital the night before her surgery watching the news and saw where a combat unit had been bombed. Fear over the possibility of Trace being with that unit lanced her worse than her surgery.

  Misty’s hand shot out and they reined in the horses. A mule deer emerged from a stand of trees. It stopped and stared at them, its tail flicking back and forth. Misty giggled and the deer darted back into the dark interior.

  “Beautiful,” Danni muttered.

  “I agree.”

  She looked at Trace and froze. He was staring at her.

  “Come on, Uncle Trace. I want to ride up to the pond.” Misty urged her mount forward.

  “Wait for us, Misty.”

  Letting his niece ride ahead of them, Trace lingered next to Danni. “Is someone special waiting for you in San Diego?”

  “You mean, do I have a boyfriend waiting?”

  He pulled the brim of his ball cap lower. “Yeah.”

  “No.”

  “Did you ever date?”

  She cut a sideways look at him. “Did you?”

  “Kind of hard to do that between deployments.” He peered at her. “Your turn.”

  Danni shifted in the saddle. “I didn’t have time. Went out with one of the guys on the USC men’s team, but it didn’t work.” She adjusted the reins, only to return them to the previous length. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

  “Just wondered is all.” He smooched to his horse and they trotted to catch up with Misty.

  Wondered her foot.

  “Miss Danni.”

  She smiled at Misty. That pixie-face beamed back at her. “Yes, Misty?”

  “Uncle Trace said you wanted to go to your house, but can you stay for dinner? Mama’s letting me help her make dessert. And I’m a real good cook.”

  Suspicion threaded through Danni and she peeked over Misty’s helmet. Trace seemed to find something more interesting off to his far right. The sneak was trying to use his niece as leverage. She returned her attention to Misty.

  “Dessert you say? Yum, that’s my favorite part of the meal.” She leaned forward. “What kind is it?”

  Misty leaned toward her. “It’s a secret.” She pressed her finger to her lips. “Shhhh.”

  Danni nodded and straightened in her saddle. First their mothers manipulated them into running into each other at the airport; next her mom just ups and leaves, forcing Danni to stay at the Bryant ranch. The party, Trace’s unexpected flashback and the subsequent fallout, the request for a trail ride, and now this. Was everyone and everything conspiring to thrust Danni and Trace together?

  Her gaze traveled back to Trace. He rode loosely in the saddle, as if he and the horse were one and the same. Misty whispered something to him, and he looked at his niece. His dark eyes flicked up and locked with Danni’s. A glint flashed through his, and he gave her a quick smile.

  Danni’s heart seized. It was the same look he gave her right before he almost kissed her in the barn. Trace was in love with her.

  Whipping her attention forward, she squeezed the reins. Unnamed emotions swirled in her gut. How long had he loved her? And why didn’t he say anything, ever?

  But the biggest question was, did Danni love him?

  “Why are we stopping here?” Danni stared at the large building with huge letters across the top announcing it was the Colorado Springs VA. The old brick structure looked like it once housed a school. She faced Trace, suspicion threading through her.

  “I have an errand to run inside. Want to come in with me?” He flashed one of his charming grins.

  “Are you meeting a counselor or something?”

  He checked his watch. “Or something.”

  Danni peered at the brick building. “All right.”

  Exiting the truck together, they entered the building. The place smelled like floor wax and aged timbers. The tomatoey scent of lasagna and stale coffee lingered in the air. A chill crept over Danni’s skin at the brisk temperature of the building.

  Her gaze darted to Trace. Why’d he bring her here? Wouldn’t it have been less embarrassing if he’d come alone to talk to a counselor, or whatever it was he planned to do here?

  He nodded toward an office. “I’ll be in here. You’re free to wander. Doubt you want to be bored stiff while you wait on me.”

  “Okay.” She drifted toward a large glass trophy case. She heard Trace chuckle and the click of his boots on the polished cement floor as he walked away.

  Pictures of soldiers, sailors, and marines—young and old—were displayed in the case. All locals. All probably suffering from one repercussion of combat or another. Danni glanced at the closed office door where Trace had disappeared. Would his picture join the others on this wall?

  Male laughter drifted up the hall. Interested, Danni moved to follow the sound. The plunk of a ball against wood flooring joined the men’s voices. She found a gym. A volleyball net stood in the center of the court. The men she heard were evenly numbered on each side of the net.

  Danni rooted herself in the doorway, keeping her body partially hidden behind the open door and watched them.

  All eight men were about her age or younger, and each one of them sported a life-changing injury. Missing limbs replaced by prosthetics. They batted the ball back and forth in their clumsy manner, teasing each other when someone messed up.

  Smiling at their antics, Danni rested against the doorframe. Had they been healthy and whole, these men wouldn’t have been able to play against her and her teammate. The two of them would eat those eight alive. But from the looks of things, those eight were enjoying themselves, getting a handle on what was to be their new lives as disabled veterans.

  “Want to introduce yourself?”

  Danni jerked at the low voice in her ear and glared at Trace. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “Sorry.” He winked.

  Yeah, like he was really sorry. She resumed observing the men. “They won’t know who I am.” Crossing her arms, she let her head rest against the cool metal frame. “I don’t wanna interrupt their fun. It looks like they need some.”

  “Actually, what they’d probably like more is not to be forgotten.”

  Scowling, Danni faced Trace. “How would they be forgotten? They’re war vets.”

  A dark look passed through his eyes as he watched the men. “You’d be surprised at the number of men and women who come home wounded and there’s no one there to help.”

  And not all of them came home with visible wounds. Danni’s gaze slid back to the men. Out of those eight, how many of them were t
rying to make it on their own? People like Trace could benefit them. His physical therapy training and his long service record would go a long way for them and for Trace.

  “Is that why you’re here?” She pushed off the doorframe and blocked his view of the court. “Are you looking to get a job here as a therapist?”

  “Kind of. I needed to speak to some people about counseling for myself first.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then—”

  “Heads up!”

  A ball pinged off the wall and headed for the back of Trace’s head. Danni’s hand streaked out and caught it. She clasped the ball in her hands, the feel of smooth leather soothing her.

  “Sorry about that.”

  Danni turned to the man gimping toward her and Trace. The man stutter-stepped to a stop, and his eyes widened.

  “Danni Lindsay?”

  “You know who I am?”

  His grin widened, white teeth flashing against dark skin. “I’d know you anywhere. Been following your volleyball career since you were named NCAA player of the year the first time.” He swung around best he could on a prosthetic leg. “Hey guys, we’ve got a legend hanging out.”

  Danni stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Uh, I’m no legend.”

  The guy peered at her over his shoulder. “Wanna bet?”

  Panic flashed through her veins. She looked at Trace. He shrugged and entered the gym. Swallowing back her trepidation, Danni joined them.

  The seven other men crowded around her admirer, their eyes shining.

  “Goin’ for the Olympics.”

  Danni gripped the man’s shoulder, amazed at the muscles that flexed under her hand as he turned to her. “Wait a minute. If you’re following my career you know I’m out because of a knee injury.”

  He glanced down at her bum knee then slapped his prosthetic. “You’ve still got your leg.”

  Next to her Trace snickered. Glowering at him, Danni pasted on a smile. “Are you insinuating something, soldier?”

  His buddies chuckled.

  “What makes you think I’m a soldier? Maybe I’m a Marine?”

  “Naw. Not cocky enough.” Danni pointed at Trace. “He’s a soldier.”

  Eight pairs of eyes roved between her and Trace. Danni’s admirer stroked his chin.

  “Boys, whaddya think about having Miss Danni Lindsay give us a few pointers?”

  Expectant faces looked back at her. She glanced at Trace; he smiled back. Blowing at a wayward strand of her hair, Danni nodded.

  “On two conditions. One, you call me Danni. And two, you take it easy on me.”

  They all laughed.

  “Danni, we should be asking you to take it easy on us poor boys.”

  The group moved back onto the court. Danni followed, a new thrill surging through her. Far different than the one she usually got before a match, but exciting, just the same.

  Chapter 8

  Trace parked his truck in the driveway and leaned on the steering wheel. “We’re here.”

  Danni stirred and moaned. Blinking her eyes open, she peered through the windshield at her mother’s home.

  Halfway to town she’d dozed off. When he wasn’t trying to drive, Trace stared at her, until he nearly collided with a grain truck. He was glad to hear she didn’t have a boyfriend. It made what he planned to do a bit easier.

  She sighed. “Let’s find that quilt block.”

  Trace trailed her along the sidewalk. Instinct born of too many trips into the field with patrol units had him scanning the area. All seemed quiet. Ahead of him, Danni mounted the porch steps. She took a key from her pocket and unlocked the door.

  A sweet floral scent greeted them as the door swung open. Trace entered the sunlit foyer, his gaze bouncing from one end to the other. From what he could see, the house hadn’t changed much in the last twelve years. Still decorated in the eclectic classical style her mom was fond of, it remained rooted in a time when Danni’s family had been intact.

  He fingered a delicate red afghan draped over the back of a loveseat. “Where do you want to start?”

  “You can look through the hutches and cabinets down here. I’ll look upstairs.” She moved to the staircase.

  “Danni, let me look upstairs.”

  With a hand on the banister, she eyed him. “Why?”

  “Well …” His gaze flew up the steps then back to her. “You already pushed your knee on inclines.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Really? Going up the stairs once isn’t going to be a problem. And I haven’t been confined to a plane for three hours.”

  “Better safe than sorry.”

  Dipping her chin down, she looked at him like a stern teacher. “Do you really want to go through my mom’s bedroom?”

  Heat flushed into his face. “Uh, no.”

  “Didn’t think so.” She moved to mount the stairs.

  “Oh, this is a waste of time.” Trace strode toward her.

  Panic flashed through Danni’s eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you upstairs.” He grabbed her by the waist, slung her over his shoulder, then marched up the steps. “If you’re going to be stubborn about it.”

  “Put me down.” The palm of her hand cracked against his back. “I mean it.”

  “Not happening.”

  She moaned. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  “Not on me you’re not.” He reached the landing and gently set her down. Gripping her shoulders to steady her, he stared at her. “One day you’ll get over the ‘I can do it all on my own’ mentality and ask for help.”

  “You could’ve asked if I wanted help, instead of going all ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’ on me.”

  Guilt prickled, and he winced at her correct assessment. “Sorry. Old habit.”

  A tepid smile fluttered across her mouth. “I guess.” She glanced down the stairs. “Think I’ll be all right going down them alone, or do I need to call you?”

  “Play it by ear.” He started down the steps. “Then again, you could always slide down the banister.”

  “Ha! I tried that once as a kid and nearly fell off. Mom went nuclear on me and I never dared it again.”

  Trace paused halfway down and faced her. “You mean to tell me, independent Danica listened to her mother?”

  She cocked her head and shrugged. “Guess I did.”

  “Well, wonders never cease.”

  “Oh, get to work.”

  “Wait. What does this quilt block look like?”

  Danni’s face scrunched. “I’m not sure I remember. But it’ll have Mom’s name on it and maybe some lavender and honeysuckle blossoms. Grams knew how much Mom loved those flowers.” Danni turned to leave and then stopped. “Oh, and a Bible verse. Not sure which one, but Grams had a verse on the others I have and I had to put one on mine.”

  Trace reached the floor. “What verse did you use for yours?”

  “Why are you so interested?”

  “Just making conversation.”

  Danni rolled her eyes. “The longer we talk, the longer it’ll take to find the block.” She disappeared around a corner. “Seek and find, Trace.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered and entered the living room.

  He spent the next hour going through drawers, cabinets, and boxes, taking special care to rifle through anything that could hide a thin quilt block. Nothing turned up. Maybe Danni had better luck upstairs.

  Standing at the bottom of the staircase, he listened. Except for the tick of the grandfather clock in the dining room, the house was silent. Trace mounted the steps. Which room was Danni in?

  He checked in the room directly opposite the stairs, which belonged to her mother. No Danni. Moving down the hall, he found the upstairs bath and a guestroom. The last door at the end of the hall, he struck gold.

  Sitting with her good leg tucked under her body and the recovering one stretched out on the floor, Danni stared at an open scrapbook. She looked up at the creak of the hinges, gave him a weak smile,
and held up a block of material. “Found it.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  She gave him a sheepish smile. “Not sure. Half hour ago, maybe.”

  He settled on the floor next to her and flicked the edge of the scrapbook. “What’s this?”

  “Family pictures.” She turned the book for him to see. “Back before Dad got sick.”

  A lot of the faded pictures were of Danni and her parents at various functions. Some of her and her cousins or grandma.

  “You miss them?”

  She sighed and closed the book. “Tons. I’ve been so busy chasing my tail for volleyball I never tried to contact any of them. Mom and Grams were the only ones I talked to on a regular basis. Sometimes I want to go back and smack some sense into our mothers for acting like brats. My cousins and I got the raw end of the deal.”

  He picked up the quilt block and fingered the soft material. “Where’d your mom hide it?”

  “Inside the scrapbook.” Danni shoved the book into a box. “It’s like she didn’t figure I would actually look in here.”

  “When she took it, would you have?”

  Danni met his gaze. Sadness filled her eyes. “Last year, I wouldn’t have touched that box for a million bucks.” She bowed her head. “Too many memories of Grams and Dad in there.”

  He tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “Maybe your mom didn’t hide it so much as send you on a path.”

  “A path to what?”

  “I think you need to figure that out on your own.”

  Danni drew circular patterns in her mashed potatoes, half-listening to Misty’s chatter about seeing the deer and other things on their ride that morning. In the course of the drive back to the ranch, Trace convinced her to spend one more night. She was grateful that he asked. After finding the scrapbook, she didn’t think she could face a night alone in her mom’s house.

  He didn’t breathe a word about why he’d gone to the VA. After her enjoyable afternoon with the disabled vets and teaching them some volleyball pointers, Danni didn’t want to ruin it by making him talk about something he obviously wasn’t comfortable with yet.

  Hard as she tried to bury it, the thought that Trace loved her kept rearing to the forefront of her mind. And the questions soon followed. Did she love him in return? Was she reading too much into a few looks and a near kiss? If she did love him, how would they make a relationship work?