by Jillian Hart
She had time for a quick prayer, hoping it was in God’s plan to save him, before she was whisked away, holding Westin’s hand. And if not, then God’s will would be done, but it saddened her. No, it went deeper than sorrow. Deeper than grief.
Please, Lord, don’t let it end this way.
As they raced into the sunset, toward the hospital in Bozeman, she gave thanks for the sweet blessings in her life. And she knew beyond all doubt that she would be forever grateful to the loner who’d drifted into their lives.
Chapter Fourteen
Three days later.
“Are you sure there’s no one to come get you?” asked a concerned gray-haired lady wearing a volunteer’s badge and exuding authority. “I don’t think they let someone on pain medication just go home alone. I need to call someone about this.”
“I didn’t take my pain meds. And I’m not driving.” He planned on calling a cab, but he didn’t see the need to tell her that. He was alive, not that he was exactly happy about it.
When he’d felt his strength leaving him in the river, with Westin on his chest, he’d been glad he’d held out long enough to get the boy to his mom. Then he’d been relieved because it was over, finally, this struggle to live when he’d died long ago. The life drained out of him and he’d welcomed it. He’d yearned to see the bright light where he hoped his loved ones were waiting.
But he’d lost consciousness. When he’d come to in recovery, he knew God had failed him again. Failed him. Heath was alive. He’d come close to death, as he had so many times in the last few years. Every time God had snatched him back, had forced him into exile here, where Heath could not live, could not feel, could not love.
What kind of God was that?
Heath was done with God, done with faith, done believing there was any rhyme or reason or benevolent Father looking over His children.
He just wanted to get his stuff, get in his truck and leave. He didn’t want to talk to anybody, he didn’t want to see anybody, and since he’d asked and been told that Westin was just fine, there was nothing left to do.
No, that wasn’t true. He had to say goodbye to Amy. And then he’d leave.
“When’s Heath getting outta the hospital?” Mr. Brisbane asked as Amy freshened his coffee.
“As far as anyone could find out, maybe today, probably tomorrow.” Amy tried not to let her disappointment show. Heath had made it through surgery and, while in recovery, had left orders that he didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not even her.
The only reason she knew anything at all was that one of her favorite customers, who’d been her mom’s good friend all those years ago, volunteered at the hospital in Bozeman and rooted out the information for her. Otherwise, Heath had not only written her off, but had also refused every gift, flower, balloon and phone call she’d tried to send, as well as gifts everyone she knew of had tried to send.
Paige was cooking this morning, her hair tied back, her face tight in concentration as she worked. Too tight. Amy knew full good and well that her sister was listening through the hand-off window. Paige, while she was grateful that Heath had saved Westin, was highly insulted by his self-imposed isolation.
“It just don’t sound right,” Mr. Winkler commented as Amy turned the pot to his cup. “I say something’s wrong with that young man. It ain’t good manners to go refusing folks who just want to say thanks.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Mr. Redmond added, holding out his cup for the next refill.
What they didn’t know about Heath Murdock. Amy finished her rounds with the coffeepot and was saved by the order-up bell. She gladly fetched the order of ranchero chicken omelet, the daily special, piled high with hash browns and sausage links.
Frank seemed glad to see her. “That sure looks good. Say, you might want to let Paige know the Hayman brothers have agreed to pay for the damage they caused. You let her know there’ll be a lawyer calling her later today.”
“She’ll be glad to hear it.” The plywood still covered the first two windowpanes, but John had promised the glass, which had to be special-ordered, wouldn’t take more than a few weeks to come in. “How about you? You aren’t in uniform. Must be your day off.”
“Yep. Thought I’d go fishing.”
Things seemed back to normal. Westin had graduated, and she was so proud of him. He was a big first-grader. Her baby was growing up. It made her glad and sad at the same time.
Someone called her name. Her cousins had gathered for breakfast in the back corner booth, and Karen was waving her over. She had a few minutes, so she stopped to chat. Karen’s baby was smiling so sweetly, and Kendra was without her little girls today, for they were home with Grandma. Kirby, also sans her little ones, and Michelle, with her little Brittany snoozing in her car carrier tucked neatly into the corner, sat opposite them.
They were talking about T-ball practice, which was to start on Monday, and Karen offered to be the first car-pool driver, offering to ferry Westin, too.
A big extended family was a wonderful thing. She sneaked them free cinnamon rolls and lattes, and as the bell on the front door jangled to announce a new customer, she grabbed a trio of menus to seat the elderly Montgomery sisters. Through the window, as she was leading them to their preferred patio seating near the rose trellis, she caught sight of a yellow taxi—all the way from Bozeman—slowing down at the front curb.
Heath. She knew it was him even before she saw the silhouette through the windows in the back seat. She recognized the mighty line of that neck, the chiseled profile and the dark shock of hair. As she waited for the Montgomery sisters to slide into their favorite booth, she tried to look through the open doorway, but the wall blocked her view.
Although she could not see him she knew he’d climbed from the cab and was circling the building. Still, after all they’d been through, even after he’d cut off contact with her, her soul moved in cadence with his.
The Montgomery sisters were finally settled and she laid out their menus and left, realizing only as she was already halfway down the aisle that she hadn’t filled their coffee cups…and she had the coffeepot in her hand. She plopped it on the counter, rounded the corner and headed straight out the back door.
“Amy, don’t be foolish—” Paige started to say.
She slammed the door on her way out, to cut her off. Foolish? No, she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself. Paige didn’t need to worry. She marched up the stairs and beat on the aluminum screen door frame, staring through the mesh to the darkness within.
He couldn’t have gone far. He’d probably beaten her up here by a matter of seconds. “Heath! Don’t you hide in there.”
“I’m moving kind of slow.” There he was, ambling into sight from the back of the apartment.
Dear heavens, did he look bad! He was drained of color and thin, as if he’d lost weight. Several days’ growth stubbled his jaw. He moved carefully, in obvious pain. Her anger ebbed like a tide washing out to sea as she saw how deliberately he kept his injured side still. The slow steps he took. The way he winced, as if in great pain he wouldn’t admit to, when he opened the screen door and gave it a push.
She came in, but not any farther than just inside the threshold.
He’d brought his bag out. That’s why he’d taken longer to let her in. He had the big battered duffel nearly full, the steel teeth of the zipper gaping like a great white shark’s jaws. He added wrinkled clothes that must have been sitting in the dryer for a few days. He tossed in a toothbrush and a half-rolled-up tube of toothpaste.
“You came up here for a reason.” He didn’t sound angry but he didn’t sound anything close to being glad to see her. “I heard Westin’s doing good.”
“They kept him overnight for observation but let him go early so he could finish his last day of school.”
“Good for him.” He turned his back, all steel and distance. He left no doubt as he zipped the bag closed. “This is goodbye.”
“I know.” She’d known this moment woul
d come. It had been inevitable. How could anyone heal from wounds that went so deep? From losses that could never be made right? “I’m glad I got to know you, Heath Murdock.”
“Likewise.” He winced as he lifted the pack onto his good shoulder, took a couple of small steps forward, and wished. Man, did he wish. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget you, Amy McKaslin.”
“I’ll think of you every time I look at my son. He’s alive because of you. There is nothing on this earth that I can do to match what you’ve given me.”
“You’ve already done it.” It was a hard thing to explain and he knew he’d fail at it, so he didn’t even try. “Walk me out to my truck?”
“Okay.” She held the screen door open for him and led the way down the narrow stairs with the same grace she’d always shown.
He’d been rude to her, refusing to see her in the hospital, and look at her, the woman who couldn’t chase away a robin was the same one who offered him understanding that was unexpected and impossible.
“Maybe I should carry your bag, since you injured yourself pretty good rescuing my son.”
“I’ll carry it, thanks.”
They walked the rest of the way to his truck in silence. The pleasant summer morning seemed the same as any other. Sprinklers ticking and clicking, mist spraying and the dog barking down the alley.
Heath waited until he’d stowed his bag before he turned to her. “Everything inside me is yelling at me to get going. I’ve got to. Do you understand? It’s not about you.”
“I know. You’ve been honest all along, and I appreciate that. You’re a fine man and it’s been my privilege to know you.”
Words escaped him, and he could only stare as the wind played with the fine wisps of gold escaping from her ponytail. She looked so beautiful, from the inside out, it made him awaken. The ice within him was cracking apart and the tundra of his spirit could not stand the change. He wanted to return to the blessed icy winter and hibernate forever.
But the heat of the day warmed him through. The flickering leaves, the shade from the trees and the scents of rose gardens and mown lawns and mist from the sprinklers made him long for blessings he could never have. Not ever again.
Still, the world teased him. There were the customers’ cheerful voices rising and falling from the opened windows. The drone of a private plane soared overhead, and from somewhere far down the alley came the irritated cry of a toddler in one of the little homes as a young mother’s voice crooned, “Did you fall down? Come here my sweet boy.”
Life, it was everywhere. He couldn’t escape it. He was breaking apart from the inside out all over again. He knew it was wrong but he took the step into thin air, knowing full well he was already falling to an inevitable doom. In truth he could not stand here pretending he could walk away from Amy and not feel a thing.
Because he couldn’t. His heart was cracking into smaller pieces, surprising him that there was enough of it left to do so. He’d give anything to be able to stay and step into Amy’s life like a man who hadn’t failed everyone he held dear.
“I’m not going to try to talk you into staying. I know this is what you have to do.”
“It is. I don’t belong here with you.” Although I wish I did. He fought the urge to pull her into his arms. To hold her, protect her and cherish her for all the days of his life.
If only he could deserve her. To have a life with her and her son.
She gestured toward the diner. “At least go get your paycheck. Paige is stuck behind the grill, and I know she wants to say goodbye.”
He followed her, taking in the airy way she moved in her faded denim Levi’s. He memorized the golden ripple of her hair in the wind and the sweet apple scent of her skin and the way her mouth looked even softer whenever she met his gaze. Memories were all he was going to have of her.
Until he stepped through the front door and saw the usual morning crowd. The retired ranchers and the commuters in their power suits, young mothers and the women whose children were grown. Families and single people in for a quick bite. Friends and neighbors and people who mattered to him.
Frank was the first to stand. Then the morning retirees. Heath watched, disbelieving, as person after person stood and began to applaud until the little diner was ringing with the sound.
Paige came out from behind the grill to thank him for Westin, for what he’d done for her family and pressed the paycheck envelope in his hand. He’d done what any one of them would have tried to do, and many had brazened into the river. He hadn’t been alone in that water. He saw now he hadn’t been alone when he’d pulled Westin to the surface.
Maybe, even, before that, when he’d lost all hope. When the waters had been too murky to find his way.
“Come back real soon, now, you hear?” Bob Brisbane clasped him on the shoulder.
“That’s right, we don’t want you traveling too far.” It was Clyde Winkler. “The diner hasn’t had such a good cook in a long while.”
“He’s a doctor,” Mr. Redmond corrected him. “He’s not really a cook.”
Everyone in the diner came to shake his hand, to wish him well, to express surprise and dismay that he wasn’t staying.
Amy had disappeared by the time he was done. Paige was back behind the grill. New customers began to stream in, and so he took his leave. As he was walking away and starting his truck, he wondered what he was going to do now.
Faith was a funny thing. He’d thought he’d lost it forever, but it wasn’t true. God hadn’t left him, God hadn’t given up on him. Heath didn’t know why things worked the way they did. He only knew that he was standing at a fork in the road. That everything he’d lost—family, friends and a home—had been waiting for him here, in this small Montana town, all along.
He turned the ignition and put the truck in gear, taking his time and looking around. Amy was nowhere in sight, but he could feel her as if she were half of his soul. He didn’t want to leave. She’d given him no reason to stay—if he could have.
It was with regret he put the pickup in gear and headed for the interstate.
Amy sat in the warm still air of the apartment because she couldn’t face anyone and there was nowhere else to go, unless she wanted to leave the diner for some privacy. Plus, it gave her a perfect view of Heath as he drove away.
She watched his truck amble along the main street through town, slow in obedience to the posted speed limit. The vehicle grew smaller until the angle of the buildings hid him from her sight. Forever. That was all she would ever see of Heath Murdock, capable cook and, for lack of a better word, soul mate.
She ran her fingertips across the library book he’d left clearly in the middle of the coffee table. Sorrow drained all the light from her spirit, and she felt as heavy as lead. The punch of pain in her chest wasn’t her heart shattering. It couldn’t be. She wouldn’t let it be.
She didn’t want the warm syrupy rich flow of affection to fill her up, but it did. She knew that loving Heath Murdock was the second biggest mistake of her life. Why was it the bitter truth that as responsible and hard-working and good a man that Heath was, he couldn’t promise her anything more than Westin’s father had? For different reasons, sure, but it was a pattern with her. One she’d been smart enough to escape this time.
This time she’d kept her dignity. This time she’d spotted danger before she lost her heart.
But it was no consolation as sadness overwhelmed her and tears started to fall.
Chapter Fifteen
Good old Oregon rain. It fell in a misty drizzle that was so fine, it seemed to hang in the air. Heath had forgotten what a vibrant green Portland could be in early summer. The cemetery seemed to shine with greenness. The deep velvet green of the grass, the dark forest-green of the cedar and fir trees. The brighter newer greens of the aspens and maples.
Three years today. Heath traced his finger along the date etched in the marble. His wife and son shared a grave. He knew that’s what she would have wanted. His dear wife and son.
He wished he could go back in time and find time for the small things, to check the batteries in the smoke alarm so he could be now where he belonged, with his family. That’s what he’d wanted, all this time he’d been grieving. He wished he’d perished with them.
He didn’t know why he was here to lay white roses on one grave and tie floating balloons to the other marker. But somehow it was part of God’s plan. He was no longer bitter or despondent. Because he had something he thought he’d lost with his grief.
Good memories. Of a happy marriage. How they’d anticipated Christian’s birth, how happy they’d been the day he’d come home. How one little boy who had brought so much chaos had also brought love and joy.
His cell phone jingled, and he reached into his coat pocket and checked the caller ID. Good, he’d been expecting this call. Heath answered, heard the good news and stood in the rain. He just breathed in the fragrant grass and trees, heard the sound of car tires on wet pavement on the busy road at the side of the cemetery.
He’d spent a few weeks handling things that should have been taken care of long ago. But he was done. He’d put his affairs in order and he was free.
Free to go home.
The pad of a footstep had him turning around. His mother had flown up from Kansas, and she stood beneath the wide brim of an umbrella, her eyes gleaming with emotions only he could understand.
“Have you forgiven yourself, finally?” she asked, loving. Always loving.
He nodded. Somehow things had changed. And he knew why. God had led him to Amy. God had given him a second chance.
Maybe. He was ready to find out. He took his mom by the hand and escorted her through the rain and grass.
“Westin?”
The house was unusually quiet. Amy dropped the armload of staticky, dryer-fresh clothes on the couch cushion. The hum of the pedestal fan in the living room breezing cool wind across her face was the same, but there was something different in the air. She couldn’t place it until she stepped into the kitchen.
