by Jillian Hart
How could he be so kind? He knew the worst about her. The very worst. She wasn’t a good person. Not at all. “I should have done something. The injuries were too critical. I—I can’t talk about this. C’mon, Jess. We’re going in.”
Sam’s words stopped her. “Maybe God made sure you were in that plane on that day for a different reason. Maybe you weren’t meant to save them.”
“No, I can’t accept that God would let people I know were good and kind die. I was supposed to help them. I’m a nurse. I’ve been called to be a nurse, and on the day it mattered, the day when it was clear God had made me a nurse for a purpose, I failed them. I failed Him. I failed myself.”
There. It was only the truth. Shame crashed through her with the force of an ocean wave, knocking her off balance, and she lurched toward the door.
As often as she prayed, she’d never found any comfort. Any answer. Any solution other than to keep trying to be a better nurse. To hope one day she would make a difference. Finally do right by herself, her fellow man and God.
“Or maybe you weren’t there to save them, Kirby. But to comfort them in an impossible situation. Maybe God doesn’t sit up on high clouds making planes crash. But maybe He does make sure that when things go wrong in this world, there are faithful and merciful people in our lives who can make tragedies bearable.”
“But I couldn’t—”
“Maybe you were there to be a comfort to your sister and to those you’ve known all your life, when they needed comfort most of all.”
That could not be true. Kirby leaned her forehead against the glass pane in the door, her hand at the knob. She stood perfectly still, but she was breaking inside. “I was no comfort to anyone, I’m sure.”
“Yeah? You make a difference every day. I’ve seen you at work. I know the kind of person you are, Kirby. You shouldn’t feel guilty. You should feel glad you were there where you were needed. You need to take responsibility for what you did, not for what you were never responsible for. You cared for the dying. You did what you could to ease their suffering.”
There had been so much suffering. She’d felt so inadequate to the task that day.
“God must have smiled when you were born, because He knew you were a good, gentle soul, and that makes a difference, Kirby. Maybe it is the only difference we can really make in this world. To be kind and compassionate. To love.”
She felt as if she were crumbling from the inside out. The hard wall she’d put up around the wounds in her spirit, to hide all her fears and shame, was cracking. Sam’s gentle baritone punched at those defenses, and they were coming down. Every last one.
Like a breached dam, all those pent-up feelings and stored-up pain cascaded free, moving through her, falling away.
“Let it go, Kirby.” He folded his arms around her middle, supporting her so that her back was to his chest. So secure, holding her up when her knees wobbled.
“It’s okay,” he told her. “Just let go. Let it go.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to.” His lips brushed the crown of her head in a tender kiss. “Or it will consume you until it’s taken everything valuable about your life.”
“Maybe that’s the way it should be.”
“And what good is that gonna do you? Or those people you couldn’t save? What about God? Is that why He spared you? So you could live in the past, trying to correct something that was never your fault? Or would He want you to embrace all the blessings He’s given you and keep making a difference in this world?”
“That’s what I’m trying to do. I volunteer—”
“For the wrong reasons. And that makes all the difference.” He kissed her cheek, a warm brush of sweetness. Of caring.
Of love? she wondered.
“It’s late.” He released her. “Let’s get you inside.”
He opened the door and her dog dashed in first, anxious over Kirby’s distress.
Sam moved past her in the dark kitchen, found her box of dog biscuits on the counter and handed one to her spaniel. “You were a good girl,” he told Jessie. “Go to bed, go on.”
With a look of uncertainty the dog glanced at Kirby, whined and then obeyed, trotting down the short hall and disappearing into the nearby bedroom.
“You’re next.” Sam took her by the hand, commanding but gentle.
How could a man be so strong and tender at once? She admired him even more as he led her down the hall, set her on the edge of her bed and knelt to tug off her shoes. The love she felt for him doubled inside her. Tripled. Expanded until she brimmed full with it, a bright pure light of affection that hurt as much as it healed.
“You be smart and listen to me, because I’m right about this. I promise.” He gently nudged her shoulder, guiding her down to her pillows, and tucked the covers up to her chin. “He saved us, not because of the good things we did, but because of His mercy. Let go and let God, okay?”
How was she going to defend herself against him now? He’d stolen her heart. She loved him with all of her being. With all her soul.
His kiss grazed her lips. Warm as velvet, gentle as mercy, as thrilling as first love.
As true love.
“Sleep well, beautiful. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She couldn’t speak. She was too raw. Too drained. She could only watch as he moved through the darkness, substance and shadow. He closed the door behind him, leaving her alone.
But not lonely.
God had meant Sam to come into her life. Not only to help her, but to love her.
Sam was the one. The one she was meant to love forever and for all time.
Sam watched dawn take over the sky and decided to get up from the front step and make a pot of coffee. Strong enough to keep even him awake. He had a long day of work ahead. The accountant was going to go over the books with him, and that was scary. He was going to have to figure out how to keep up with the paperwork or hire a bookkeeper to do it.
The thought of sharing the quiet of his office with anyone, especially a woman, made him decide that he’d rather learn to do it himself. After all, he was a businessman. He ought to be able to figure out the books.
Leo trotted into the kitchen, yawned and looked pointedly at his bowl.
“Here you go, boy.” Sam filled the dog bowl with kibbles.
While Leo ate as through he’d been starving, gobbling and crunching and gulping, Sam grabbed the bag of coffee from the freezer. It took less than a minute to get a pot brewing, and the warm comforting scent encouraged him. He might make it through the day to come.
Sleep had eluded him. Why? He hadn’t been haunted by the past in his dreams. He’d been up thinking about Kirby. No, he’d been trying not to think about Kirby.
He’d worried about her. He was concerned about her. He cared about her. About Miss Perfect In Every Way.
He grabbed his favorite mug off the drainer and filled it with steaming coffee. Leaving the rest of the pot to brew, he headed to the front door. Kirby was probably up by now, letting her little dog into the backyard. He wanted to check on her, but his feelings were too raw.
He needed to figure out how he felt about her before he saw her again. He needed to know how to act. Everything had consequences, and last night he’d kissed her. He winced. He loved kissing her. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. It had simply happened.
“C’mon Leo.” He yanked open the front door, deciding to avoid her.
Whatever he was feeling, he wanted to get it straightened out before he saw her again. It was the smart thing to do.
Except he should have checked out his window first. There she was, looking like everything good in the world, standing in her front yard. She wore a modest blue sweater and black pants, and her hair was unbound, soft and shimmering and glorious.
She was beautiful. More so today than he’d ever seen her. How was it that she grew more lovely every time he looked at her?
Leo barked and bounded down the front steps, and it was too late to do anything but
follow him out into the bright sunshine. The little spaniel gave a yip in greeting and the dogs sniffed noses, then took off running around the front yard together.
“I’m running late this morning,” he explained as he knelt to grab his morning paper from the sidewalk. “How about you? How did you sleep?”
“Good. I start at seven this morning.” She pushed up her sleeve to glance at her gold watch. “I’ve got to get going. Thank you for last night, Sam. For everything you did.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
He wanted to brush the soft hair from her face, the golden strands that shone like the sun and whipped in cadence with the wind. He wanted to use those errant strands as an excuse to run his fingers along the curve of her face, to feel her satin skin, to hold her again, if only for one brief moment.
“I’ve got to go. I wish I had more time. Hey, maybe it’s my turn to cook you dinner?” She snapped her slim fingers and her dog came running.
Sam felt a bubble of panic rise in his chest. He was panicking because he liked the idea. A lot. How wrong was that? “I’ve got a late night at work.”
“Oh, and I have Bible study tonight. What am I thinking?” She tossed him a megawatt smile, the kind that a woman gave a man she really cared about.
“Hey, another time, then.” At least that would give him time to think this through.
“Sure. Have a good day, Sam. Bye, Leo.” She grabbed her spaniel’s leash and headed up the walkway. “See you later.”
“Yeah.”
Sam sank to his bottom porch step and set down the mug before he spilled his coffee. What was this he was feeling for her? It was like nothing he’d ever known before.
He was lonely, that was it. He was getting soft in his old age, now that he was over thirty, and it was hard living alone. He didn’t deny that. But it was better than the alternative.
Kirby would make a loving wife. That thought came out of the blue, as if an angel had whispered in his ear, and it troubled him more.
By the time he’d sipped his way to the bottom of the oversize mug, there she was, backing out of her driveway, looking carefully over her shoulder as she eased out onto the street.
She waved before she put her car in gear and drove away.
Leaving a hole the size of Montana in his chest.
“Okay, we want the scoop.” Michelle pounced on her the instant she set foot inside the coffee shop.
Kirby shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the old-fashioned coat rack by the door.
The coffee shop was closed to regular customers this time of night, but Michelle had been busy, whipping up frothy drinks for the handful of women seated cozily around a table in the corner by the windows. Why was everyone staring at her like that?
“Tell us about this handsome man you’ve been secretly dating.” Alexandra Corey adjusted her three-month-old son in her arms. “A very handsome and rich man, I hear.”
“Sam’s handsome, if you like tall, dark and rugged.” Kirby kept her voice neutral as she slipped into the last empty chair at the table. “But I don’t think he’s rich.”
Everyone broke out in laughter.
“Yeah, sure, he buys an airport. He has two helicopters and a Cessna.” Michelle rolled her eyes. “I think he’s really poor to afford all that. Here’s a vanilla steamer, sister dear. Tell us how long you’ve been dating that eligible bachelor behind our backs? The whole time? Or did he just start asking you out?”
Kirby would have thanked her sister for the coffee, but she was not happy to be embarrassed. “I’m not dating Sam. We’re neighbors. We’re friends.”
“Friends, huh?” Michelle plopped into her chair beside Kirby. “Is he, like, in love with you yet? Do you love him?”
“No!”
“A little defensive, are you, sister dear?”
“Please, let’s remember why we’re gathering tonight.” Kirby reached inside her book bag and laid her Bible and her devotional on the table before her. Why were her hands shaking? Why was she feeling this way?
Because it was true. She loved Sam more than she thought could be possible. All day long she’d felt a longing she’d never known before. The steady burning light inside her remained, unconditional and never ending.
The kind of love she’d always prayed to find, and it was more than she’d ever expected.
“We’re all here, so let’s start.” Kendra, in charge of the group, cracked open her worn Bible. “From Jeremiah. ‘For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.’”
The verse made her think of what Sam had said last night. Maybe you weren’t there to save them, Kirby. But to comfort them…when they needed comfort most of all.
And last night Sam had comforted her when she’d needed it. He’d held her close when she’d felt so utterly alone. He’d tucked her into bed with the care and respect of the greatest of heroes when she didn’t feel as if she deserved it.
When she looked at him, she saw his strength, his goodness and his great heart.
She felt as if she glowed, from head to toe, from skin to soul, simply thinking of him. She ached with the wish to see him again.
In a few hours, she thought. She’d be home and so would he. The evening was a warm one, with the hint of summer on the breeze. Suddenly she could see her future spread out before her. One of hope. Of goodness.
Of love.
Chapter Twelve
Who invented the computer and thought it was a good idea? Sam wanted to know. He resisted the urge to grab the contraption, and the printer, too, and hurl it out the open window.
This computer program is so easy that you’ll be able to do all your bookkeeping yourself, the CPA had promised.
Easy? What was easy about this? Sam had a degree in physics. He had brazened into hostile territory nap of the earth—so low, they bellied treetops the entire mission. He’d flown birds that were shot at, shot up, on fire, barely working and not working at all.
He’d survived being captured. He’d flown all over the world. He’d handled all that without batting an eye.
But not this frustrating plastic box some people called a computer. The apparatus sat mocking him in his own kitchen.
“What do you mean there’s no printer?” Maybe talking sense to the machine would help. “It’s hooked up right here. See? It’s the right cable. Fits nice and tight. The power is on. So just print. Aghh!”
Leo nudged his nose against Sam’s hand in sympathy. The dog’s chocolate-brown eyes were sorrowful, as if he shared the same opinion about that suspicious computer.
Time to take a break. Maybe the computer would have a change of heart and decide to open up friendly negotiations with the printer. If not, then Sam intended to call the CPA and beg for help.
“Yoo-hoo, is anybody home?” His aunt’s cheerful voice echoed through the house.
The tension drained away, and Sam gladly stormed from the kitchen to yank open the screen door. “Aren’t you a welcome sight? And a lovely one.”
“Oh, you flatterer.” Ruth drew his face down to plant a maternal kiss on his cheek. “Keep those compliments coming. At my age, I’ll take all of them I can get. Goodness, what changes you’ve made in this place!”
“Yep, I just put in the vinyl windows.”
“So I see.” Ruth ran her fingers over the wood frames he’d carefully nailed into their original place. “What a fine job you’ve done. Although with you, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Oh, you’re too thin. You’re losing weight cooking for yourself.”
“I’m the same weight I always am, and I’m a good cook. You know that.”
“I know, but I’ve read time and time again how a man is happier and lives longer if he’s married.”
“Really? I figured marriage would be so stressful for us poor men, it would kill us faster.” He winked.
“Oh, you stop that now!” Laughing, Ruth held out her arms and he braced himself. He knew more doti
ng affection was coming, and he was helpless to stop it.
Best to just give in, don’t struggle. It would be over faster.
“I love you and want what’s best for you, my boy,” she said, her voice wobbly with affection as she wrapped her frail arms around his middle and squeezed him tight.
Ah, it was good to have a family again.
“You’re the closest thing I have to a son, so indulge me. Get married and be happy.”
“I tried that. I wasn’t happy.”
Ruth stepped away, and when she did, sorrow for him shone in her eyes. “I know. It was wrong how Carla treated you. You didn’t deserve that.”
He felt his insides turn steely cold. “I try not to think about that time in my life. You know that.”
“Yes, but I must point out that not every woman is selfish. There are plenty of good women on this planet who have big hearts and love deeply. I was one of them.”
“I know, Ruth. That’s why I think you’re the greatest woman I know. My uncle was lucky to have you.”
“The love I had for my Ned was the sweetest part of my life. I miss him something terrible, but the years we had, my, what a comfort that is. Marriage can be bliss. Believe me, I know. Which reminds me, I heard a rumor about you taking little Kirby McKaslin out on a date.”
“We happened to both wind up at the burger place and shared a table. Did everyone in this town drive by that night and see us? Inviting her to share my table was the polite and gentlemanly thing to do. I was showing off the one good manner I have.”
“Oh, you are impossible!” Ruth lifted her chin, looking as if she’d already made up her mind and no one was going to change it, and marched into the kitchen. “What have you done in here? Oh, my. You bought a computer.”
“You mean a box of torture, frustration and misery?”
“Having a few problems with it, are you? You mean there’s one thing in this world that Sam Gardner can’t do perfectly?” Ruth had the audacity to look delighted as she rubbed her hands together, looking over the computer with glee. “Oh, this is a nice system. Let’s see what your problem is.”
