by Nan Dixon
“I love her.” He took a deep breath. “And I love you. I’d like to be your dad.”
Josh picked at the seam on his pants. “I had a dad.”
“I know. Maybe I could be... Papa.”
“Papa.” Josh frowned. “And my dad could still be Dad?”
Nathan nodded, afraid to speak. What if Josh said no?
“What does Issy think? She’d be like my sister, right?”
“We haven’t talked to Issy yet.” But Issy had been talking more and more. Without singing. It was like she’d been saving up words and they were all tumbling out.
“Would we live in the carriage house?” Josh crossed his arms.
“I think we should look for a house.”
“A house?” Josh leaned forward. “Would I get my own bedroom?”
“Yes, and you’d help pick out the house.”
Josh looked at him with soulful brown eyes. “I always wanted a dog, but Mom said I couldn’t have one until we had a house.”
“A dog?”
Josh scooted forward. “Like Carly.”
“Carly’s more horse than dog. She weighs almost a hundred pounds.”
“And she’s awesome.”
Nathan remembered all the complaints Daniel had made about the puppy. “She used to dig in the garbage.”
Josh sighed. “But Mom promised.”
“I suppose you want a pool, too.” Would his budget survive these kids?
“Really?” Josh’s eyes lit up.
“Are we negotiating about a house or are you going to tell me if it’s okay for me to marry your mother?”
“That?” Josh grinned. “Mom told me already.”
“Then we are negotiating.” Nathan would agree to most anything to make a family with Cheryl and Josh.
“I think...” Josh chewed his lip, reminding Nathan so much of his mother. “I’ll call you Papa.”
Nathan swallowed back the lump in his throat. He pulled Josh onto his lap. “I’d like that.”
“I love you, Papa.”
Nathan hugged his son, hard. “I love you, too.”
“Everything okay out here?” Cheryl and Issy came up to the table.
“He asked me if he could marry you and I said it was okay and I’m going to call him Papa and we’re going to get a pool and a puppy.” Josh took in a deep breath. “And, Issy, I’ll be your big brother.”
Cheryl blinked. “Wait. Pool and puppy?”
Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. “Our son drives a hard bargain.”
“Puppy? Carly?” Issy asked.
“Yeah.” Josh held up his hand and Issy gave him a high-five.
Cheryl sank into a chair. “This wasn’t supposed to be a negotiation.”
“I should have had an attorney with me.” He ruffled Josh’s hair. “And the kids get to help choose the house.”
Cheryl’s face lit up. “Of course.”
Nathan stood, setting Josh on the terrace floor. “Can you take Issy in and dance with her?”
Josh grimaced. “I guess. Come on, sis.”
Nathan pulled Cheryl out of her chair. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
Her smile lit up her face. “Too many times to be true.”
“You were fearless with that drunk.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” She grinned.
“So this is what normal feels like.” Nathan pulled her close. “A woman by my side, kids to love, a house, a dog and a pool.”
Candles shimmered on the tables. Fairy lights twinkled on the patio and the courtyard bushes below. This was the setting Cheryl deserved for a proposal. He took her hand and moved to the balustrade. “I love you.”
She sighed. “I love you, too.”
He dug in his pocket and pulled out the small box he’d carried all day. “I want to ask you again. Will you marry me and be my family?”
He snapped the lid open. The center diamond was set between two smaller stones.
“It’s beautiful.” She cupped his face. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
He slipped the ring on her finger then held it up. “The stones are the kids’ birthstones. An emerald for Josh and amethyst for Issy.”
“It’s perfect.” She looked at him, her eyes shining. “And so are you.”
“Hardly. I let our son negotiate for a puppy.”
“And a pool.” Her laugh filled the terrace.
“I don’t care.” He pulled her in. “Now I get to kiss you.”
She threaded her fingers through his hair. “And I get to kiss you.”
He dipped her and she laughed.
Should he tell her the jeweler had said they could add more stones to her ring?
Her tongue slid against his.
He would save that news for another day.
* * * * *
Read more in the
FITZGERALD HOUSE miniseries
to learn how the Fitzgerald sisters
found their happy endings.
SOUTHERN COMFORTS—Harlequin Superromance, December 2014
A SAVANNAH CHRISTMAS WISH—Harlequin Superromance, December 2015
THROUGH A MAGNOLIA FILTER—Harlequin Superromance, August 2016
And watch for the next book
in the series later in 2017!
Keep reading for an excerpt from A SOLDIER’S PLEDGE by Nadia Nichols.
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A Soldier’s Pledge
by Nadia Nichols
CHAPTER ONE
SHE FIRST SAW him through the smoke of a forest fire. He was standing on the end of the dock where the smoke jumpers waited for the planes, backpack and rifle case resting at his feet, staring off across the river. Normally the ferry landing could be seen on the opposite shore, but with the wind out of the west, smoke roiled over the water like thick fog that glowed a dark molten red in the sunrise. Cameron took a second sip from her first cup of coffee and squinted out the window of Walt’s cluttered office.
“That him?” she asked, leaning forward until her nose almost touched the grimy, flyspecked pane. Stupid question. Who else would be standing there at dawn? Her brain was muddled from lack of sleep and three beers at the pool hall the night before.
“That’s him,” Walt said, his voice as rough as hers from breathing smoke fo
r days on end. “Said he drove all night to get here and there’s a big storm front right behind him. Been waiting there pretty near two hours.”
“Well, he’ll have to wait a little longer, smoke’s too thick to fly. Jeez, Walt, I can’t believe you called me at oh-dark-thirty to get me down here. This was supposed to be my first day off in over two weeks.”
“Wind’s going to shift pretty quick. I listened to the forecast. You’ll be able to get him where he wants to go.”
“Where’s that?”
“Kawaydin Lake, headwaters of the Wolf River.”
“He’s taking a fishing trip in the middle of a forest fire?”
“Didn’t see a fly rod or a kick float. He’s traveling light. His total kit weighed under fifty pounds.”
“When’s he want to be picked up?”
“Doesn’t. Says he’s going to walk down the Wolf to the Mackenzie.”
Cameron laughed aloud. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Says it’ll take him eight days, and he’ll send us a signal on his GPS transmitter when it’s time to pick him up.”
“He might be standing on that dock for eight days if the wind doesn’t shift. By the way, this coffee’s terrible. When and if Jeri ever comes back, give her a raise. A big one. Then tell her if she leaves again you’ll fire her, and if she stays you’ll marry her.”
Walt looked like he hadn’t bathed, shaved or slept in two weeks, which was just about how long the fire east of the park had been burning out of control and just about how long Jeri had been gone. The first two weeks of August had been fourteen miserable days of nonstop work and bad coffee.
“Plane’s all gassed up, ready to go,” Walt said.
“I thought the park service closed the area down to nonessential personnel.”
“They’ve okayed this because it’s way outside the fire area and it’s not inside the park. Don’t complain. This works out good for us. He’s paying a lot of money to get flown out to that lake.”
“Speaking of flying, the plane was running rough enough to spit rivets yesterday, Walt. She’s overdue for a checkup.”
“He’s paying a lot of money,” Walt repeated. “That plane’s not up for inspection for another month. She’ll get you there and back, and you know it. It’s three hours’ flying time, round-trip. You’ll be napping in your rusty old trailer by noon. Look, see that? The wind’s already shifting out of the south, just like they said it would.”
Cameron glanced at her wristwatch and thought about how dog tired she was. If she’d known about this job in advance, she wouldn’t have played pool until 2:00 a.m. “What about Mitch? Can’t he do it?”
“He ferried a big crew of smoke jumpers out to Frazier Lake yesterday to fight the fire, then he was going to drop another crew back in Yellowknife. He won’t be back till late this afternoon. C’mon, Cam, it’s an easy hop. I’ll throw a bonus at you for flying him out there.”
“How much?”
“Hundred bucks.”
She took another sip of stale, bitter coffee. It was no better than the first. “Walt, that’s your second joke of the morning. You’re on a real roll.”
“Hundred fifty.”
“Two hundred fifty and a week off, paid, or I’m going back to bed and you can fly him out there yourself.”
Walt hesitated. “Hundred fifty and two days off if we get the heavy rains they’re predicting tonight. If not, you’ll have to keep flying the jumpers. I don’t have any other pilots right now, you know that, and you also know we need the money.”
Cameron tugged on the brim of her Gore-Tex ball cap and sighed in defeat. Walt’s expression instantly brightened. “Good. I’ve already loaded supplies that you can drop over to Frazier Lake after you get the Lone Ranger situated.”
“That’s wasn’t part of the bargain.”
“Mitch’s plane was overloaded with smoke jumpers. He didn’t have room for any provisions. Those jumpers have to eat, and you can swing over there easy as pie on the way home.”
“Easy as pie. Right.” She attempted another swallow of coffee and looked out the grimy window. The sky was brightening as the wind shifted and pushed the smoke to the west. The old red-and-white de Havilland Beaver tied to the dock rocked gently on small river swells. Cameron thought about the past four months, moving up here after an ugly divorce, living in a battered old house trailer two miles from the airstrip, flying as much as she could because when she was flying she could outrun her past, and if she flew fast enough and far enough, who knew? She might catch a glimpse of the future, and maybe it would look good.
“What’s the Lone Ranger’s name?” she asked.
* * *
THE WONDERFUL THING about the red-and-white Beaver, tail number DHC279, was the tremendous amount of noise it generated in midflight, that great big Wasp engine roaring away, metal rattling, wind whistling through all the cracks. The noise made conversation impossible, which suited Cameron right down to the ground. She had no desire to make small talk with clients when flying them to their destinations. She hid behind her sunglasses and liked to be alone with her thoughts. She never tired of studying the landscape, the rivers and lakes, the mountains and valleys, the wilderness that appeared so pristine, so untouched by human hands. This wild landscape was a balm to her spirit. She liked to daydream about building a cabin in this valley, or maybe that one, down where those two small rivers converged...or that next valley wasn’t bad, either; it had a natural meadow that would make a good garden spot.
And hey, was that a wolf down there? No, two wolves, trotting along the riverbank. The spotting of wildlife from the air never ceased to thrill her.
Her passenger made no attempt at conversation but seemed equally content to watch the world slip beneath the plane’s wings. The forest fire’s destruction was visible west toward the park. Thick plumes of smoke nearly obliterated the dark bank of clouds advancing from the south. If this front brought the promised rain, two intense weeks of flying smoke jumpers in and out of the park would come to a welcome end.
The plane touched down on the lake just past nine thirty after a one-and-a-half-hour flight. Cameron taxied toward the shore, cut the engine, popped her door open and climbed down onto the pontoon. When the bottom shallowed up, she lowered herself carefully into the water, well aware of how slippery the smooth stones could be underfoot. Bracing her heels, she caught hold of the wing rope to pivot the plane. A second rope hitched to the pontoon acted as a tether, and she hauled the back of the floats toward shore.
Her passenger opened the side door and climbed onto the pontoon, hauled his pack out of the door behind him, slung his rifle case over his shoulder and closed the door. He waded ashore with his pack and rifle case, and leaned both against a big round rock near the shore’s edge. She hadn’t noticed his limp when he was getting into the plane back at the village. She’d been too busy prepping the plane. He straightened, turned to look at her and took off his sunglasses. Good-looking man. Well built. Short military-style haircut. Squint lines at the corners of clear hazel eyes that had seen too much, maybe. Strong features. Early to mid-thirties. But there was something about him that made her uneasy. Not many chose to be dropped off alone in such a remote spot, with so little gear.
“Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Cameron replied, hiding behind her shades. “My boss says you’re planning to follow this river out to the Mackenzie?”
“That’s right.”
“It’s rough going through there. Wild country. Going solo’s pretty risky, and what you’re carrying for gear isn’t much.”
“It’ll get me there.”
“Did you hurt your leg jumping out of the plane?”
“No,” he said.
The wind gusted, and the plane tugged at the tether rope like a balky horse. Cameron tugged back.
“This is grizzly country. They can hang along the rivers like brown bears this time of year, and they can be territorial.”
He leaned against the rock, half sitting, and folded his arms across his chest.
“We’re the intruders here,” she continued. “A brown or grizzly will bluff charge. If you get into a Mexican standoff and the bear charges, wait until he crosses the point of no return. Chances are if you stand your ground he’ll stop twenty, thirty feet out or better. No need to shoot him. Of course, if it’s a sow with cubs, all bets are off.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
She felt a twinge of annoyance. Most guys enjoyed talking to her. Most guys actually came on to her. Something about young women pilots really got them all hot and horny. This one spoke politely, but she had the definite impression he just wanted her to go away. “Most people who get flown into this lake want to fish for char or canoe down the Wolf, or both. It’s a beautiful stretch of river. Not too many people know about it.” Why was she trying to make conversation with a man who didn’t want to talk? He’d brought a weapon. Clearly he understood about the bears. “What’s your contingency plan if you get into trouble, say you break your leg or something?”
“I have a GPS transmitter. When I reach the Mackenzie, I’ll request your flying service to pick me up.”
“You really think you can make that distance in eight days?”
“Yes.”
“Well, in case you don’t, we fly year-round. If you signal us six months from now, we’ll pick you up, and if you get into any trouble, I guess you know how to hit an SOS button.” Cameron flushed from the effort of anchoring the plane and making awkward conversation. “Well, it’s your party. I’ll leave you to it. Have a nice hike.”
She unfastened the tether from the pontoon, wrapped it neatly, climbed back into the cockpit, slammed her door harder than necessary, put on her safety harness and fired up the old Beaver. She taxied slowly back out into the lake, taking her time and casting frequent frowns toward the shore, where the man still leaned against the large smooth rock, watching her depart. This remote lake was large and deep enough to make a good place for floatplanes to drop clients, though not many came up here. Most wanted to be flown to the Nahanni, or to Norman Wells. Cameron had never been to this lake before, though she’d dropped adventurers at other lakes with their gear and canoes. Cheerful adventurers, too. Totally the opposite of the taciturn Lone Ranger.
