“Yes.” She smiled fondly over calling Afghanistan the sandbox. It was. “I guess I picked up my mom’s love of photography.”
“You were always taking photos of the children, mothers and anything else who would stand still two seconds.”
Laughing, she said, “That’s true.” And then she became somber. “I lost all my photos, and my camera, after that ambush.”
“What do you mean?”
She traced a pattern in the wood of the table. “Well . . . I woke up at Bagram hospital and things were hectic. I tried to find out about the rest of the team . . . about you . . . but no one knew anything. I passed out and woke up a day later in Landstuhl. I asked a nurse what happened, and he told me only you and I had survived. I was devastated. It was only after I was transferred to Bethesda that I thought to ask where my duffel bag was. Everything I owned was in that bag. We all had them at the Afghan village. My camera and the cards that held all the photos were in the duffel bag. When it finally reached me, half the contents were missing, including my camera and the cards. They’re all gone. I wished I’d had those photos so I could give them to their wives, parents or girlfriends, but they were lost.”
“Damn,” Garret muttered. “I’m sorry, Kira. I know how much pleasure photography gave you.”
“It was a way to escape the bone-crushing poverty those poor Afghans lived with every day. I could take a photo of a mother with her baby and then show it to her on the screen of my Canon D7. I just loved the way she would look so surprised. Usually they’d burst into tears because they’d never seen anything like it before. I was planning, once I got stateside, to make copies I could send back to them, but that never happened.”
“Do you have a camera now?”
Shaking her head, she said, “No.” She held up her left hand. “My last two fingers don’t work well. I have to hold the camera still to get the photo. My dad, bless him, wanted to buy me another Canon when I came home. He wanted to give me Mom’s old 35-millimeter camera, but I didn’t take it. I had trouble holding it in this hand.” Pain worked through her chest. “It was just one more thing I’d done before but now couldn’t.”
“And it devastated you?”
She gave him a searching look. “Yes. Because photography has always been an escape for me. I can see the radiance in a child’s face, the beauty in a woman’s face or a colorful landscape. I can lose myself in them. Even the Afghan desert had its beautiful moments, the way the sun slid across the land, creating depth, shadows and textures.”
“I think,” Garret said, “you see beauty no matter where you are, Kira. It’s one of the many things I’ve always admired and liked about you.”
She felt his thick voice move through her like a lover’s caress. Oh, if only it was so! The tightening of her lower body, that primal animal that resided within her, wanted Garret to touch her, explore her, but she forced herself to stop thinking in those terms. “Thanks.”
“Maybe someday you’ll get another camera.”
“Well, not right now. The Canon I want costs over a thousand dollars and I don’t have that kind of money. And I won’t ask my dad either. I have to get back on my feet and earn it.”
“Working here, you can save for it.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. Fingers crossed.”
Garret pushed away from the table. “Okay, time to take those muffins out of the oven,” and he gave her a tender look. “You just sit there. My turn to wait on you.”
A frisson of warmth wound through Kira. “You’re spoiling me, Garret.”
He chuckled as he pulled on a mitt and opened the oven door. He pulled out the corn bread muffins. “You deserve a little care and attention.”
What to say to that? She sat there, watching him fill two bowls with the fragrant navy bean soup sprinkled with carrots, onions and celery. So many memories of Afghanistan, of working with him and the team, flowed through her. It was partially pain mixed with happiness. Every day it seemed to her Garret was becoming more open toward her. She loved the way he touched her, even unexpectedly.
Kira said nothing, watching him work at the counter. Garret turned and approached, placing a bowl of soup in front of her. He sat down at her elbow. “Okay,” he said gruffly, “dig in. Eat all of it. I need to get that weight back on you.”
Kira felt a blush flowing up into her face as she drowned in his green-and-gold eyes. Her heart wrenched in her chest, wanting closer contact with Garret. Wanting to kiss him and knowing she couldn’t, Kira reached out and touched his upper arm. “This is a wonderful meal. Thank you.”
* * *
Garret lay awake, naked, on his bed, his hands behind his head. On the dresser opposite the bed, the clock read two a.m. He’d awakened out of nowhere, but that was so usual that he thought nothing of it anymore. The room was quiet. He heard the hoot of an owl somewhere outside. It wasn’t that close, giving the sound a haunting quality. Moonlight leaked silently around the drapes.
Garret wondered if Kira was sleeping. He hoped so. Closing his eyes, he smiled to himself, always wanting to remember the priceless expression on her face as he’d cupped her face with his hands. The way she reacted had moved him deeply. Kira liked his touch. That much he knew from his bold action. For the past twenty-four hours, since she’d been hurt by Crawford, he’d wanted to hold her. It was out of the question, but he was driven to do something. The look in her flawless gray eyes after the shock of his gesture was pure, melting beauty.
Garret had an answer to an important question that had always hung silently between them. Kira had enjoyed his touch. He’d seen it register in her eyes and something else, too. Arousal? Could that be right? Could she really desire him? Only time and patience would tell. It felt damn good to do something nice for Kira. Garret wanted to do so much more for her.
Worry dissolved around him and he dragged in a sigh of relief because Kira had agreed to allow their relationship to flourish. Jesus, if she only knew how much he wanted it to grow, that he wanted a long, exploratory, intimate relationship with her. He knew she wasn’t ready for that kind of admission from him yet. Still, just stealing a touch here and there, he felt like a greedy, sneaky thief, but he didn’t care. He was driven to connect with Kira. Had to feel her firm, warm skin beneath his fingertips. Just getting to cradle her face in his hands those few stolen times had fed his heart and soul.
His brows fell. He wondered if Crawford was going to continue to be nice to Kira. Every protective hackle rose in him toward her. He was damned if the man was ever going to hurt her again.
Chapter Thirteen
Kira showed Reese and Shay the evidence of Ray’s continued drinking through mid-November. Garret sat at her elbow, quiet as usual. For the past three weeks they’d had weekly meetings, going through the information Kira was compiling for them. That and the iPhone photos of the bottle of whiskey Ray preferred and consumed regularly.
She pushed the hard copies of the photos for the last week toward the couple, showing how much Ray was drinking. It hurt her to see Shay wince visibly, her eyes dark with pain. Did an alcoholic ever realize the anguish he or she was putting the rest of the family through? Kira didn’t think so. She felt Garret slide his arm around her shoulders lightly, as if reading her mind and reassuring her, even though she’d said nothing. How she looked forward to those times when he embraced her. It was never often and always unexpected, but she lapped up the contact like a starving dog.
“This week,” Kira said gently, holding Shay’s gaze, “your father has been drinking a cup of whiskey a day.”
“Then,” Reese said, looking at the photos and scowling, “he’s drinking more, not less.”
“Yes,” Kira confirmed sadly.
“But he’s still being nice to you?” Shay asked.
“The same as the first day after Reese and Garret talked to him. He won’t meet my eyes. He pays attention to the crossword puzzle magazine in his hands.”
“He doesn’t seem to be opening up and chatting wi
th you like before,” Reese observed.
“No, he’s really closed down toward me.” Shrugging, Kira added, “Probably because he’s worried about getting thrown off the ranch.”
“For now he’s meek,” Garret warned them. He picked up his coffee and took a drink. Setting it down on the table, he added, “I’ve seen my old man go through periods like that. It always happened after I confronted him. But at some point he turned back to his old, wonderful self and became angry and abusive toward me again.” He slid a glance toward Kira. “I’m just waiting for him to make that change.” Gesturing to the photos between them, he added, “And this week Ray has been drinking more than ever before, so something is eating at him.”
“He hasn’t said anything to you at all, Kira?”
Kira shook her head. “Nothing. The minimum of words to answer whatever questions I might ask him.”
“You’re taking him to his primary care doctor tomorrow,” Shay said, grimacing. “I’m wondering what those tests will show. I’m worried his liver function is going to show up being worse.”
“It has to,” Garret said. “He’s been drinking roughly a bottle of whiskey a week.”
Reese gave his wife a look. “Can you call his doctor to ask Ray to be screened for alcohol in his blood? Elevated levels?”
“Yes, of course. I was going to call him today anyway, to let him know what we’ve discovered.”
“Whatever you do,” Garret warned her, “don’t let the doctor tell Ray we know he’s drinking again. We’re still trying to find out who’s supplying him; we need that for evidence in case you ever wind up in court. Besides, even if the doctor let him know he’s aware he’s hitting the bottle, Ray would just keep on drinking.”
“No worries,” Shay promised. “He’s a good doctor and will understand.”
Reese studied the photos. “We need to talk about Thanksgiving.”
Shay sighed and looked at Garret and Kira. “We want to invite everyone here for Thanksgiving. Last year Garret made all the fixings though I helped him a little. This year,” her voice lowered with worry, “my father will be here with us. I can’t not invite him to the dinner, but at the same time I don’t know what kind of mood he’ll be in. I wanted the day to be special, happy, like last year.”
“He’ll stand down and behave himself,” Garret told her. “And I’d like to make the dinner again if you don’t mind.”
Shay brightened. “Oh, I’d love that, Garret.”
He grinned a little and turned to Kira. “You weren’t here, but it was a very good meal I fixed for all of us.”
“The gravy,” Shay sighed, “was divine. Garret’s so good at cooking. We call him the Gravy King.”
“I’d love to help you,” Kira said, “if you don’t mind me underfoot?”
“Sure, we work well over at our house. No reason we can’t do it over here, too.”
Kira smiled. “Then that’s settled, Shay. Garret and I will do the honors. All you, Noah, Harper, Reese and Ray have to do is show up.”
“I worry Ray will spoil it,” Shay admitted hesitantly.
Reese shook his head. “I think Ray knows where he stands with us. I don’t believe he’ll pull anything,” he told his wife.
“I don’t either,” Garret chimed in.
“But it won’t be the same,” Shay stressed softly. “Last year was so much fun. We had so much laughter, so many jokes and good times. I know Ray will drag it down. He’s always so pessimistic.”
“You know,” Kira said, looking at all of them, “maybe we can use a different strategy. How about, because Ray is so used to me, that I ask him to help us with the dinner? Get him involved? It will just be me, Garret and him in the kitchen. That might loosen him up. Maybe make him feel important? Like he’s part of the team?”
“That’s a good idea,” Garret murmured, giving her a proud look. “I can handle it if you can, Kira.”
“Sure. I deal with him daily; maybe this is what he needs. Maybe it will show him that we’re a big, sloppy, happy family of sorts?”
Shay looked dumbfounded. Kira felt happiness thread through her. “I really think he’s lonely over there. He’s at a point where he could use his walker if he wanted to go outside. We keep the sidewalk clear and free of ice and snow, but every time I ask him if he’d like some fresh air, he just grunts like an old grizzly bear and shakes his head.”
“He loves the outdoors,” Shay said. “He’s always hated being indoors.”
“Maybe he’s depressed,” Kira wondered out loud. “My mother had terrible depression, and he has all the signs and symptoms of it. Like he’s given up and has no connection with the joy in life, the beauty of it.”
“He’s an alcoholic,” Garret reminded her grimly. “Liquor steals a person’s soul, just as recreational drugs do. It takes them out of reality.”
“This time of year,” Reese said, “the Salt River Range is beautiful. You can see it from our back door.”
Kira gave Garret a beseeching look. “What if I could cajole him into coming with me to the barn? You’re always working out there on all the equipment. Maybe Ray would find some interest in that. He’s a guy. He knows mechanical stuff like you do.”
“I don’t care,” Garret said. “With the amount of alcohol he’s drinking daily he’s high all the time. I don’t know that anything like what you’re suggesting would be of interest to him, Kira.” He gave her a look of regret.
“I think it’s worth a try,” Kira said stubbornly, waiting for Shay and Reese to approve her idea.
“My father was always tinkering on the equipment,” Shay said. “Midday it’s the warmest it will be and might be a good time to drive him over to the barn, Kira.”
“Sure.”
* * *
Garret studied Kira beneath his lashes as she worked at the kitchen sink, preparing grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. She was slender and small, her movements graceful as she turned the sandwiches in the skillet. Her black hair was resting on her neck and looked winsome. Garret was glad she was allowing it to grow longer; it brought out her natural femininity, which had been hidden in Afghanistan. The hair was now below her nape and soon, in another month or so, would begin to touch her shoulders. He smiled, liking the way blue highlights danced through her hair because of the bright, sunny light filtering through the window over the sink.
The sky was finally free and clear of storm clouds, the sun shining strongly on the two feet of snow that had fallen in the valley over the last couple of days. It took the snowplows a lot of time to clear some of the back roads and the road to the Bar C was no exception. It wouldn’t last long, this sunny weather, but Garret wanted to get out in it instead of being inside the barn.
“Did you know Shay has a small Canon camera?” he asked.
Kira looked up. “No.”
“Yeah. I asked her yesterday if she would lend it to you and she was fine with it.” He saw Kira’s eyes light up with interest as she transferred the toasted cheese sandwiches to a plate.
“Really? She’s okay sharing it with me?”
“I told Shay you were a photographer and that you lost your good Canon and all your photos. She brought the PowerShot SX50 out and it’s in the foyer of their mudroom. There’s a card in it and the battery is charged.”
Kira handed Garret his plate and sat down. “Wow, that sounds wonderful.” And then she laughed a little, putting a paper napkin across her lap. “Not that I have a whole lot of time to spend on anything but work.”
Picking up the sandwich, he gave her a slight grin. “I’m going into town after lunch. Want to come with me? There’s always deer or elk along the highway just before we get into Wind River. If we stopped it should give you some good shots of whatever we see. Would you like to do that?” Garret wanted quality time alone with Kira. She needed it for a lot of reasons, especially working with Crawford, but he was being completely selfish in wanting her all to himself. He had a plan and he was going to damn well implement it.
<
br /> “Sure, I’d love to!” And then she frowned. “Are you sure Shay doesn’t mind me using her Canon?”
“Positive. She told me she’s a fair-weather photographer and has no interest in using it during the winter months.”
“Gosh, that’s eight or nine months out of the year,” Kira remarked.
Garret saw a flush come to her cheeks, her gray eyes suddenly taking on a sparkle of excitement. In that moment she looked like a child who had just been told she was going to Disneyland. His heart swelled. He’d do anything to make this woman happy. And with her love of photography, that was an avenue he wanted to help her pursue. “Maybe you can show me how to take good photos?” he teased.
She smiled. “Sure. I never saw you with a camera in Afghanistan, though.”
“Always hope for the hopeless,” He chuckled. Kira was right: He wasn’t a photographer. Never really had interest in it until just now. It was just another way to get her to trust him, to share something they both enjoyed.
“Well, sure. You really want to learn how to use one?”
“Why not? I’ve always appreciated other people’s photos. And you’re a natural teacher, so what is there not to like about this situation?” It took everything he had not to reach out and graze her reddening cheek. Garret was finding all these subtle, but oh-so-important, body language signals from Kira telling him she was happy. And that she wanted his company. It was a slow but a very promising way to get to know her better without the stress of danger and war surrounding them.
“Okay, sure. It’s just that I’ve never used a PowerShot. I know it’s not a pro’s camera, but it’s just one tier down from my beloved D7. I’m sure it will have the same dials, controls and such. It will be easy to introduce you to using a Canon to photograph with.” She smiled. “And then you’ll take some shots. Later, we can go over them here at the house and I can show you the strengths and weaknesses you have as a budding photographer.”
“Emphasis on budding,” Garret assured her. Frankly, he didn’t care how good or bad he was. He just wanted Kira’s closeness, her attention. It would give him a chance to maybe, if he got lucky, briefly touch her shoulder. Maybe her cheek. Garret cautioned himself; he knew to move too fast would upset the delicate balance they’d so far achieved.
Wind River Cowboy Page 17
