Love Finds You in North Pole, Alaska

by Loree Lough

  Sam wasn’t the slightest bit surprised at her own tears or at the glisten in her brother’s eyes, for heart-to-hearts with the Lord often invited a bit of dampness, but the damp streaks coursing down Bryce’s face rocked her to her core. If not for Bill’s firm grasp on her hand, she might have lost it completely. “That was beautiful, Billy,” she said softly.

  “Yeah,” Bryce agreed, “it was.” Lips taut and brow furrowed, he ground out a quiet “Thanks.”

  “Mr. Stone?”

  Bryce stood ramrod straight as Bill and Sam flanked him.

  “I’m Doctor Eversly,” he announced, extending his right hand. “I’ve been overseeing your aunt’s case. Her husband asked me to update you.” Eversly fidgeted with the black tubing of his stethoscope and said, “We’re re-running the tests, to be sure our initial diagnosis is correct, but I’m afraid it’s serious.”

  Sam glanced up in time to see Bryce’s Adam’s apple bob up and down. “How serious?”

  “Looks like cancer.” He held up a hand to add, “But Fairbanks is home to one of the country’s best cancer centers, and their top expert is on his way here now, so there’s no need for immediate alarm.”

  “What kind of cancer?” Bryce ventured.

  Everybody tensed when the doctor’s jaw muscles bulged. “I think I’ll let Dr. Dugas provide the specific details once he’s had a chance to study your aunt’s file.”

  “You’re saying you don’t know what kind?”

  The doctor removed his glasses and ran a hand through his hair. “Mr. Stone, I—”

  “Either you know or you don’t.” Bryce stared him down. “And if you know, I’d appreciate your honesty.”

  Quiet pings overhead prefaced a nasal female voice that droned from the overhead speakers. “Paging Doctor Marcus…”

  A nurse hurried by, clipboard in hand and crepe-soled shoes squeaking on the highly polished linoleum floor.

  A door slammed in the distance.

  The elevator doors across the hall hissed open with a ding.

  Dr. Eversly swallowed as Bryce cleared his throat and Bill coughed, and Sam thought surely all three men could hear the hard beating of her heart. Finally, the doctor’s voice cracked the quiet. “The tests are only preliminary, understand, which is why we ran them more than once.” Staring at the pale blue-and-green flecks in the tile beneath his wingtips, he continued. “Looks like it might be pancreatic cancer.”

  Sam stifled a gasp. Wasn’t that one of the worst kinds? Lord Jesus, she prayed, let the tests be wrong….

  Dr. Eversly opened his mouth to say more when the voice floated from the speakers yet again. “Doctor Eversly,” she said this time, “paging Doctor Eversly. Please report to the ER…”

  “Sorry,” he said, looking almost relieved that an emergency required his attention. “A nurse will be out soon as your aunt is settled into her room.” And with that, he hurried through the double doors leading into the emergency room, white coat flapping as he disappeared around the corner.

  Bryce took a step back and all but fell into the seat he’d been occupying when Dr. Eversly had made his appearance. “Pancreatic cancer,” he breathed. And balancing elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his hands. “Isn’t that the one that kills within months of a diagnosis?”

  Sam sat beside him and rubbed his back. “Not always,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “We’ve got to keep the faith, believe the doctors have caught it in time.”

  “She’s right, man,” Bill added, taking the chair on Bryce’s other side. “You heard Eversly…the tests could be wrong, or maybe some newbie in the lab read the results incorrectly. Either way, this Dugas expert will have answers.”

  “She’s all I’ve got,” Bryce grated.

  “You’re wrong about that,” Bill said, one hand on Bryce’s shoulder.

  “You’ll never be alone,” she whispered, “as long as I draw breath.”

  Nodding, Bryce whipped off the eye patch and tossed it to the floor. And as his friends sat helpless, the big, no-nonsense ex-marine broke down and sobbed.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Since there wasn’t much he could do for her, Bryce took Olive up on her suggestion to go home for some much-needed food and rest.

  “Besides,” she’d said as the foursome stood around her hospital bed, “Bill needs to pack so he can get back to Baltimore. School starts soon, and I know from past experience how important it is to get into the classroom early. Isn’t that right, Bill?”

  Sam’s brother had grinned and, firing off a few wisecracks, agreed. But his red-rimmed eyes were a dead giveaway that Olive’s quickly failing health had impacted him, too. And though Bryce had only known Bill for a few weeks, the man had earned his respect and friendship, and Bryce hated to see him go.

  To give her her due, Sam held up well through all the hospital mumbo jumbo, the farewell supper with Bill, and the uncomfortably quiet ride to the airport. Somehow, she’d managed not to get more than a little damp-eyed bidding him goodbye at the curb outside the airline terminal, and she probably would have made it all the way back to North Pole without blubbering if Bryce hadn’t insisted on stopping to visit Forever.

  Side by side, they’d stared in respectful silence at the vast expanse of evergreens, at the steel blue sky and looming thunderclouds that blocked the noonday sun. And with no warning whatever, she’d thrown herself into his arms, her lurching shoulders his only clue that she was crying.

  Bryce hadn’t known what to say or do to comfort her, and the powerlessness threatened his own precarious hold on self-control. He wanted to be her rock, to shield her from every sadness the world might throw at her. Wanted to protect her from fear and loneliness and despair. But how could he be the man she needed—the man she so richly deserved—when it was all he could do to hold it together himself?

  He’d considered prayer but then decided against it. Why bother? There was too precious little time, in his opinion, to waste even a minute of it, voicing some futile plea to a God who had obviously turned a deaf ear to him. He’d more or less believed it for decades, because any time he’d turned to the Almighty, Bryce had gotten nothing in return. He’d never expected to have every prayer answered; he was too practical for that. But none of them? Even a war-hardened jarhead like himself knew to quit while he was ahead!

  God hadn’t turned his cause-loving parents into people he could look up to, people who could help mold and guide him. He hadn’t stopped the bleeding when his comrades lay dying on the battlefields. Hadn’t helped the search party find his mom and dad after they went missing. Hadn’t changed Debbie’s mind when she decided that being a career marine was more important than Bryce’s heart.

  By the time that land mine detonated, taking out a young soldier and wounding half a dozen others, he’d given up all hope of capturing the Almighty’s attention. Other people promised to pray for him as he lay alone and in agony at the VA hospital, and for a while, he allowed himself to hope that maybe the Lord would answer their prayers. But the sight never returned to his left eye, and the kids who’d been hit by the same flying shrapnel that had blinded him went home in far worse shape than Bryce. When he got home and entertained the idea of selling Rudolph’s, the place had fallen into such disrepair that no one in his right mind would fork over hard-earned cash for it. What else was he to think but that God was the product of overactive imaginations, like Santa and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy.

  He’d never voice his bitter opinions, because why wake the believers from their happy dreams? If leaning on a Being who promised to move mountains if His followers had faith as minuscule as a mustard seed could help them cope with the ugly things of the world, who was he to take that from them?

  Sam, he realized as he sat at his computer keyboard, had more faith than any ten people he could name. If she ever came to her senses and walked away from him, he’d need strength like he never needed it before. And surely that would happen when she figured out what a heathen she
’d fallen for, because didn’t her beloved Bible say she wasn’t supposed to yoke herself to an unbeliever?

  Staring at the glowing monitor, he scrolled through page after page, searching for the latest facts and figures on pancreatic cancer. The more he knew, the better he could help Olive. After a lifetime of uncomplainingly caring for others—her parents, her students, his parents, himself—Olive had earned the best, and he intended to see to it she got it, or he’d die trying.

  Her uncomplaining attitude, as it turned out, was partly to blame for her condition. If she’d said something sooner about the pains in her gut, about her exhaustion and insomnia, about the aches in her muscles and joints, maybe the experts could have diagnosed the cancer in time to remove the tumor surgically, put one of the new-fangled drugs to the test.

  Tonight, when nothing new showed up on his screen, Bryce rolled back from his desk and slammed a fist into the nearby wall. “In God’s hands,” he muttered. “What a lot of—”

  A soft knock kept him from finishing his sentence. “What?” he barked.

  “It’s just me,” Sam said, walking toward him, a piled-high plate of who-knows-what in her dainty hands. “I thought you might be hungry….”

  Might as well get the wheels turning, he thought, because putting off the inevitable would only make things harder for both of them. She needed to go back to Baltimore, where a loving family would help her get back to her life as it was before North Pole. Then he’d sell the shop, even if it didn’t make a profit, and take that boring desk job in Quantico. In time, maybe he could parlay it into a special ops assignment.

  “Just put it over there,” he snarled, pointing at a bare spot on his desk. Bryce glanced at the plate and noted that, as usual, Sam had thought of everything, from a big white paper napkin to a tall glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade. Oh, how he wanted to show her, to tell her how much he appreciated her thoughtful, loving gestures! But because he genuinely believed she deserved better than the likes of him, he sat, silent as a statue, staring at the glare of the computer monitor.

  “Find anything?” she asked, setting up the corner of his desk like a table in some fancy restaurant.

  “Nah.” He hit a button, putting the computer into hibernation.

  “Better eat while it’s hot…”

  He got to his feet and started pacing between the door and the desk. It didn’t really surprise him when Sam got up, too, and walked beside him.

  “Good exercise,” she kidded. “But you keep this up, you’ll wear a path in the carpet.”

  Just look at her, he thought, all tiny and cute, all loving and kind…and completely unaware that I’m about to turn her world upside-down.

  On more than one occasion, she’d accused him of being able to read her mind. He thought maybe the condition was catching, because she said, “If you think for one minute you can get rid of me, you’re sadly mistaken, marine.” Then she planted herself in his path and, hands on hips, glared up at him.

  He couldn’t afford to let her get to him. Couldn’t afford to let her niceness soften the hard decision he’d made. Didn’t she realize he was doing it to protect her? Bryce did his best to scowl. Standing taller, he crossed his arms over his chest, fully prepared to tell her to take a hike. To get lost, bug off, leave him be…

  But before he could formulate a stern lecture in his head, before he could summon the ire required to convince her that he meant what he said, Sam wrapped her arms around him and leaned her curly-haired head on his chest.

  “You’re not fooling me, you know.”

  He stared at the ceiling, wondering what to say next.

  “I know exactly what you’re up to.”

  “Oh, you think so, do you?”

  Nodding, she hugged him tighter. “You think if you act all big and bad and mean, I’ll scurry off like a scared little rabbit and drive back to Baltimore where my folks and my brothers will surround me and say silly things like ‘there, there’ and ‘poor baby’ until I’m over you.”

  Pressing both hands into his chest, she took half a step back, and when he refused to look at her, she grabbed his ears and gently tugged, forcing him to meet her eyes. “So that’s why they call you guys ‘jarheads,’ ” she said, grinning. “These things are handles!”

  Bryce felt his resolve weaken as he stared into flashing blue eyes that brimmed with affection.

  “So admit it. I hit the old nail on the head, didn’t I?”

  “Close, but no cigar.”

  “Lucky for us both, I don’t smoke.” And standing on tiptoe, she kissed his chin. “This is all your own fault, you know.”

  “What’s my fault?”

  “The fact that I’m madly, crazy, out-of-my-head in love with you, that’s what.”

  He’d known for some time that she cared for him, but love? How in the big bloody world was he supposed to send her packing, now that the words were out?

  “You can’t get rid of me,” she said, snuggling closer.

  The supposedly impenetrable wall he’d built to protect her from him crumbled further. He watched as she shook her head and smirked. Smirked! It was all he could do to keep from smothering her gorgeous face with kisses. “Oh, I can’t, huh?”

  “Of course not, silly.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I said so, for starters. And because you pull this goofy stunt every time you’re up against—”

  “Stunt? What stunt?”

  “I’ve heard all about the way you go off by yourself, like a wounded animal, whenever you think you can’t control your life. Haven’t you lived long enough yet to have figured out you can’t control anything?”

  Well, he was having a dickens of a time controlling her; that much was certain.

  She wriggled close again, squeezed him so tightly that he wondered if she had it in her to crack a rib. Then again, he’d known her for months. Of course she had it in her. The idea inspired a grin that grew into a slow, grating chuckle. Oh, but it felt good, borderline miraculous, to laugh. If Sam could pull off a thing like that, in the middle of all this death-and-dying stuff no less, what other miracles might she perform?

  She touched a finger to the tip of his nose. “Don’t you ever shut me out again.” She laid a hand on each of his cheeks and, frowning, added, “You hear?”

  He hadn’t slept or eaten a proper meal in days, and simply didn’t have the strength to fight—whatever this was—any longer. Maybe after he devoured whatever delicious thing she’d piled on that plate and got a couple hours of sleep, he’d pick up the gauntlet again, but for now…

  “I just have one more thing to say, and then I’d like very much for you to eat your supper.”

  “Just one?” He chuckled. “Now, why am I having trouble believing that?”

  Smiling, she said, “And here I thought my brother Bill was the only comedian in my life.”

  “All right, I’ll play along, since you’ve piqued my curiosity.” Bryce tucked a tendril of dark wavy hair behind her ear. “What one thing do you have to say before I eat my supper?”

  “I’m only gonna say it once, so pay attention, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re listening, right?”

  “Listening…”

  “Because if you’re not…”

  “I give you my word, I’m listening.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Okay…”

  “Okay what?”

  “Okay, here goes…”

  “Oh for the love of—”

  “Kiss me,” she said.

  He’d expected a “you shouldn’t skip meals” lecture, or even advice on why he needed to get more sleep. But this? “ ‘Kiss me’?” he quoted. “That’s the all-important thing you were gonna—”

  Lips pressed to his, she mumbled, “I’m not kidding, marine.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered against her mouth…and then he surrendered to the wonderful warmth of her love.

  Chapte
r Twenty-three

  “Now then,” she whispered when she finally came up for air, “let’s get some nutritious food into you.” Grabbing the plate, she headed for the kitchen. And over her shoulder, Sam added, “You coming?”

  That was way too close for comfort, she thought, sliding his plate into the microwave. He’d almost succeeded in climbing into a hole so deep and dark, she may never have reached him. Thank You, Jesus, she prayed, for getting me there just in the nick of time.

  The microwave beeped as she arranged his napkin and silverware at the narrow end of the table. Laying the plate beside them, she put his lemonade at two o’clock. “Dinner is served, mon-sewer,” she said, deliberately mispronouncing the word.

  Bryce sat and said, “And a sincere ‘mercybuckets’ to you.”

  Sam flopped onto the chair nearest his and sat on her foot. Propping her chin on a fist, she said, “I finally finished inventorying all the stock, so now the only thing left to do is—”

  His ringing cell phone silenced her, and she did her best to hide the first frightening thought that entered her head: who’d call at this hour except the hospital staff? And why would they, unless…

  Bryce was on his feet, a hand to the back of his neck, pacing as he nodded. “We’ll be right over,” he said before snapping the phone shut. “Duke,” he explained. He took a swallow of the lemonade. “Olive is…she’s…she wants to see us.”

  Sam hoped that didn’t mean what she thought it meant. “Want me to drive?”

  He palmed his keys. “But you’d better grab your purse. And a jacket, because…”

  Because there’s no telling how long we might be, she thought, finishing his sentence.

  Half an hour later, they stood side by side at Olive’s hospital bed. Though Sam had seen patients in her condition before, she didn’t think she’d ever get used to the piercing beep of the monitor or the tangle of tubes jutting from the back of Olive’s hands.

  “How ’bout if you men go down to the cafeteria, have a cup of coffee or something,” Olive suggested.