The Soldier's Sweetheart

by Deb Kastner

  “How do you feel about Will?” Mary asked softly, so her voice wouldn’t carry.

  “I don’t know,” she replied, knowing they would never break a confidence. “I’m attracted to Will, obviously,” she continued. She didn’t need the guidance of her two friends to tell her that Will Davenport was a treat to the female eye.

  “And?” Alexis prompted.

  “And nothing. There’s really nothing left for me to say. You want me to admit I have feelings for Will? Yeah. I do. There’s definitely chemistry where he and I are concerned. I just don’t know what to do with it. I’m not sure I should do anything with it.”

  That was a gross understatement, she realized, thinking back to their near kiss just days before. She had needed his strength, and he had given it to her. She didn’t harbor any misconceptions that there was more to it than that. It was the kind of special moment she’d waited her whole life to experience, but of course it had faded out as fast as it had appeared.

  Will had backed away. And why wouldn’t he? He was a principled man with honorable intentions, and he’d made those quite clear to her from the outset. She was just glad he’d been there when he had and that he’d had her back against Cal Turner.

  “You guys definitely have sparks flying between you,” Mary said, and then cocked her head and narrowed her gaze on Samantha. “Why do I feel like there’s a but coming here?”

  “Because there is,” Samantha answered simply, riffling through the contents of the bag of fireworks she’d purchased so she didn’t have to meet her friends’ eyes. “Chemistry does not a relationship make.”

  “But you’ve got to admit it is a great start,” Alexis said.

  “In this case, no,” Samantha denied.

  “Why not?” Alexis was clearly not going to drop the subject, and even if she had, Samantha knew Mary would just pick it up again. Maybe it was better for everyone if she just set them straight on what was or, in this particular instance, was not happening between her and Will. Once and for all, and good riddance to the issue.

  “Let me count the ways,” she quipped, preparing to tick her reasons off on her fingertips.

  “Can’t wait to hear this excuse,” Alexis muttered.

  Samantha raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to hear this or don’t you?”

  “Of course we do,” Mary assured her.

  “All right, then. First, he’s still grieving for his wife. He only lost Haley a few months ago.” Tick. Grieving wasn’t exactly the right word for what Will was doing—it was more like he was torturing himself—but the term would have to do for now. And it wasn’t the whole story, but Will hadn’t authorized her to share what he’d told her in confidence about his separation from his wife. He was a private man who played it close to the vest, and she respected that about him.

  “We know all this,” Mary confirmed. “Next you’re going to say he’s busy building his relationship with Genevieve.”

  “Well, he is,” Samantha murmured, wondering why she sounded so defensive. Tick anyway, even if Mary had been the one to make the point.

  “Of course he is,” Alexis agreed. “Because he’s a good man and a good daddy. Look at him over there playing a card game with his daughter.” She gestured at Will, who was engaged in a rousing game of slapjack with Genevieve. “It seems to me that you’re helping him out with Genevieve. The way I see it, spending time with Will and Genevieve should bring you all closer together, and it ought to be winning you a lot of brownie points, too, shouldn’t it?”

  “Not in the way you mean.”

  “Again,” Alexis continued, sounding a little put out, “I probably shouldn’t, but I have to ask—why not?”

  “I don’t think he’s ready to commit to a new relationship.”

  “Because of his wife and little girl. Yada yada,” Alexis said. “What is it you’re not telling us?”

  Truthfully, Haley and Genevieve weren’t the reasons she’d had in mind at all, as valid as those points might be. Samantha was actually musing over what Will had said about his relationship with Haley before things had gone south with them. He’d openly admitted that he hadn’t known how to be a good husband to his wife. Instead he’d pushed her away. Samantha knew him well enough to know that he generally tended to judge himself too harshly, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have concerns about his ability to dedicate himself to a serious relationship with a woman. And even if he was, who was to say she was ready? Perhaps her standards were high. Mary and Alexis both thought they were. And maybe they were right.

  “He’s not a Christian.” The most serious tick of all. When the time came to walk down the aisle, Samantha was committed to tying the knot with another believer. Yoking herself unequally was a burden she did not wish to bear. She couldn’t even imagine living a lifetime with a husband with whom she wasn’t able to share her spiritual life. Her relationship with the Lord was far too much a part of who she was to dismiss it, even for the love of a man.

  “He’s not a Christian?” That stopped Alexis in her tracks and took the wind out of her sails, at least momentarily. “Wait a minute now. I’m sure I saw him in church last Sunday. Weren’t he and Genevieve sitting with your parents?”

  “Yes, that’s right, but believe it or not, he told me that was the first time he’s seen the inside of a church. Ever.”

  “Not even when he was a kid?” Mary asked, her curiosity piqued.

  “Is he a member of some other religion?” Alexis queried simultaneously.

  “No and no,” Samantha replied. “My understanding is that Will didn’t have the best family life growing up. I believe his father was a hard man, possibly an alcoholic, possibly abusive. They weren’t a religious family of any persuasion.”

  “That’s too bad.” Mary’s voice had softened and turned quite solemn. “Maybe the Lord will work on his heart while he’s under your employ.”

  “I hope so,” Samantha agreed, her heart welling with compassion for a man who’d suffered through so much hardship in his life without recognizing that there was a merciful God willing to see him through. “I really do.”

  * * *

  Will had first caught sight of Samantha when he’d spread out the picnic blanket underneath a sturdy oak on the green. He might not have been looking for her, but his gaze had been magnetically drawn to hers all the same.

  Okay. Maybe he had been looking. A little.

  Which was probably why he’d been so distracted that his four-year-old genuinely beat him at several rounds of slapjack. He certainly hadn’t purposefully lost the games. He had too competitive a nature for that.

  Samantha was standing in a line for fireworks, speaking with her friends, whom he now knew, from knowledgeable and perhaps slightly gossipy neighbors and customers, were called the Little Chicks. As he observed the three women, he could easily see how they got that moniker—he’d never seen three ladies so animated in all of his life. Most of the men in Serendipity no doubt found that quality—and those ladies—quite appealing and attractive, which he supposed they were, but he was scared to death of women like them—outgoing, constantly invading his personal space.

  Samantha most of all. She invaded his emotional space, and that was far more frightening than a woman stepping too close to him. Will knew her heart and her generosity, and for those reasons and more, he did find her attractive and appealing.

  Better for him if he felt nothing.

  Better for her.

  “He who finds a wife finds a good thing, and obtains favor from the Lord,” Grandpa Sampson remarked. He slid into a lawn chair near where Will sat watching Genevieve playing tag on the green with some of the other children.

  “I’m sorry?” Will cleared his throat, attempting to erase the pure astonishment he knew was threatening to reveal itself.

  “No need to hide it from me, son,”
Grandpa Sampson said with a hoarse chuckle. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at her when you think no one’s watching.”

  Will groaned inwardly. If Grandpa Sampson had noticed, others probably had, as well. His emotions were laid bare, and he’d never felt so uncomfortable, so vulnerable, in his life.

  He shifted his gaze to the ground and picked at a piece of grass. “As you know, I’ve been married, sir. I wasn’t very good at it.”

  “Perhaps,” Grandpa Sampson remarked, “you just hadn’t found the right woman. Yet.”

  Will couldn’t let himself go there, even in his thoughts. It wouldn’t be fair to Samantha.

  “Just think on that, son.”

  Samantha was quickly approaching, and Will cleared his throat to alert Grandpa Sampson to that fact.

  The old man just chuckled and leaned back in his seat.

  “Check out what I just bought,” Samantha said. Will moved onto the edge of the blanket to make room for her. She upended a canvas bag touting the Sam’s Grocery logo, and a pile of fireworks—mostly fountains and multicolored boxes of sparklers—spread out before him in the middle of the blanket. “There will be a nice fireworks display at the end of the evening,” she explained, “but folks around here like to entertain themselves while they wait.”

  “That doesn’t sound safe.” He suddenly felt like a Roman candle had gone off in his chest. “Is it?”

  He’d thought they were only going to see a fireworks show put on by professionals—at a distance. And even that was going to be difficult for him. The sound of explosions, however innocent, could take him back to combat, to the war zone. Even if he was perfectly aware it might happen. Even if he tried to stop it.

  Never mind him. If Samantha thought he was going to let his little girl play with a stick glowing with ashes, much less a fountain of sparks, then she didn’t know him as well as he’d thought she did.

  “Take a breath, Will,” Samantha murmured, laying a warm hand on his arm. “I promise I would never do anything to put Genevieve in danger.”

  Will nodded and tried to even his breath, but it was difficult with his heartbeat roaring in his ears. He did trust Samantha. Of course she wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen to Genevieve. He didn’t yet trust himself as the guardian of a young one, but he could bank on the fact that Samantha would always put a child’s needs ahead of her own.

  “You didn’t exactly answer my question,” he reminded her. “Can’t the grass catch on fire from the sparks?”

  Samantha gazed across the park as if the thought had never occurred to her. “I suppose it could, but to be honest, in all of my twenty-eight years, it’s never happened that I know of. Besides, the entire volunteer fire company is out here tonight with their families. Even if there was an incident—which I truly believe is highly unlikely—they’d be on top of it before anyone even knew it happened. But if it makes you feel better, we can set the fountains off along the pathway.” She pointed toward the gravel path that wound through the community green.

  Will swallowed hard. He knew he was about to sound like an overprotective mother hen, but he had another question to ask her. “What about burns?”

  Samantha gave him a strange look. “I’m sure the occasional burn happens, but probably to reckless teenage boys who use the fireworks improperly. Surely you remember being a young, invincible risk-taker.”

  Will had actually never experienced fireworks as a child, or even as a teenager. His father hadn’t been much for celebrating national holidays, and his mother was too timid to stand up to him. By the time he was old enough to rebel, his father had made the habit of locking him in his room.

  Young and invincible had not really been part of his makeup as a teenager.

  He shook his head.

  “No? Well, regardless, when used correctly, I promise you fireworks are totally safe.”

  His gaze met hers, her blue eyes completely earnest. For a moment, there was such concern in her gaze that he suspected she guessed what was really going on.

  “Trust me?” she whispered.

  His gaze shifted to Genevieve, who was playing tag with a group of children near her own age. It amazed him how children naturally flocked together if given the opportunity to do so. They just found one another, and they welcomed newcomers into their midst. School hadn’t even started yet and already she was making friends. He was so proud of her. And he figured he had Samantha to thank for that.

  Obviously fireworks were a longstanding community tradition here, and he didn’t want to give in to his desire to take his daughter and get out before he disappeared into his memories of Afghanistan. He could see the smiles, hear the laughter, smell the aroma of grilled hot dogs and hamburgers that made his mouth water. This was a full-blown party. He was the only one who appeared to be having qualms about it. Even Amanda and Samuel hadn’t batted an eyelash when Samantha had dumped her load of fireworks onto the blanket.

  He’d have to work to shut out the phantom sounds of gunfire and mortar blasts and remind himself that the noise and laughter around him were coming from a happy occasion.

  He reached deep inside himself to find new strength. Just because he was had issues didn’t mean Genevieve ought to have to suffer along with him.

  He realized he would do anything for his precious little girl.

  Absolutely anything. Including fireworks.

  “Will?” Samantha’s voice penetrated into his thoughts and he could tell from her tone that it was probably not the first time she had called his name. He suddenly realized she was touching his arm.

  He tried to smile at her but knew he hadn’t succeeded in the endeavor. She frowned back at him.

  “Where did you go?” she asked softly.

  Will considered deferring her question rather than answering it, but then she slid her hand down his arm and placed it in his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. Suddenly he found that he wanted to share the truth with her. He just wasn’t sure if he could.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to do the fireworks,” she said before he could speak. “I can give them to one of the other families. There will still be plenty for Genevieve to see, even if we don’t participate ourselves.”

  “No. You’re right. We should let Genevieve do her sparklers. I’m making a big deal over nothing.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

  He forced a laugh. “I feel that I ought to point out to you that just a few moments ago, you were arguing the opposite side of this conversation.”

  She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. He waited for her to say more.

  She didn’t.

  Neither did he. So much for sharing the truth with her.

  “Hey, Monkey,” Will called affectionately, rolling to his feet and tousling Genevieve’s hair as she came running up to greet him. “Miss Samantha bought us some sparklers. Do you want to do one?”

  “Yes, please.” Her big brown eyes gleamed with excitement.

  “Red, green or gold?” he queried.

  “Red. Red is my favorite color.”

  Will paused in the middle of reaching for the green box. “I thought you told me your favorite color was green.” He’d been mentally filing all the useful information he’d been learning about his daughter, and he was positive she’d said green was her preferred shade. Just the other day she had insisted on wearing a poufy green skirt with a Christmas-tree green shirt and green ribbons in her hair.

  “Red is my new favorite color,” she informed him in a distinctly female tone of voice.

  Apparently the entitlement of a woman to change her mind on a whim wasn’t learned behavior.

  “Miss Samantha’s favorite color is red,” Genevieve explained.

  “Well,” Will drawled. “That explains it, then.”

/>   Samantha giggled right along with Genevieve. The sound made Will’s heart happy.

  “So how do you go about lighting one of these things?” He opened the red box and slid one of the sparklers into his hand.

  Samantha’s surprised gaze met his. “Are you serious? You’ve never done a sparkler before?”

  Will shook his head.

  “Oh,” Samantha murmured. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? It’s not your fault my father was an overbearing jerk.”

  Samantha knelt before Genevieve, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulder and pulling her close. She adjusted the sparkler in Will’s grasp so the safe end was in his fingers and then placed Genevieve’s hand over the top of his wrist. Time seemed to slow as he savored the feel of his hand, and his daughter’s, enfolded in Samantha’s grasp. His chest welled so tightly he thought it might burst from emotion. There was something inherently right about the three of them united in this way.

  “There we are.” She nodded in satisfaction and reached for the long-stemmed candle-lighter in the picnic basket. “And here we go!”

  She lit the end of the sparkler. The stick glowed and then sparked brightly, popping and crackling. He didn’t care for the sound, but he relaxed when he saw the glow of the firework reflected in his daughter’s eyes. Her happiness was worth any price—and any amount of discomfort on his part.

  Samantha was clearly enjoying the child’s delight as well. She was sharing it, really. He’d never met a woman who embraced the moment the way Samantha Howell did, with such joy and vivaciousness. He envied those qualities. She absorbed the life around her, lived in the moment. He was a man who struggled to find any kind of joy or peace in his existence at all, although it was getting easier with Samantha and Genevieve in his life.

  Jo Spencer, the boisterous elderly redhead who owned the local café, approached waving a lit multicolored sparkler in one hand and a miniature American flag in the other, reminding Will of the conductor of a symphony. She was wearing a T-shirt proclaiming Like Freedom? Kiss a Soldier.