Heaven's Gift aka Kiss of an Angel

by Janelle Denison

  "Sorry, boss," Mike murmured, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. "It won't happen again."

  "Make sure that it doesn't." With a curt nod J.T. dismissed the hand, then went to saddle up the horses.

  Chapter Seven

  An hour and a half later, after checking the west fences and the creek for any problems and finding none, J.T. reined Quinn to a stop in a meadow brimming with wildflowers. Caitlan's mare, Blaze, automatically halted beside him. The creek cut a path through the meadow, and a huge apple tree, veiled with green leaves and white blossoms, dominated the area, its branches extending to form a shady canopy. Two elk sprinted into a nearby copse of brush and trees, followed by a scampering ground squirrel.

  Caitlan's gaze encompassed the daisies, primrose, and wild yellow plum blooming in riots of color around them. "This place is beautiful," she said softly.

  "Yeah." J.T. didn't know what, exactly, had drawn him here, especially since it had been years since he'd come to this spot. So many memories of Amanda lived here, of their childhood together, that he reconsidered the wisdom of bringing Caitlan to a place he almost thought of as sacred.

  Strangely, the grief and pain he used to feel when visiting this meadow was now only a dull, distant sorrow. Maybe coming here was a good thing, he decided. Maybe it was time to face old memories, then pack them away for good.

  J.T. dismounted Quinn in a fluid motion. "Ready for lunch?"

  Smiling, Caitlan slid off Blaze and removed her jacket, hooking it on the saddle. "Sounds great. I'm starved."

  He grinned back. "Good. Laura packed plenty of food." He handed her the knapsack and blanket he'd brought along. Taking her mare's reins, and Quinn's, he led the horses to the creek and left them there to graze.

  "Will they be okay like that?" Squinting against the sunshine, Caitlan watched J.T. approach her again.

  "Unless something spooks them they'll be content to graze on the grass." Grabbing the blanket from her, he snapped it out under the tree. Tossing his hat to the corner of the blanket, he ran his fingers through his hair and gestured with his other hand for Caitlan to sit down. He joined her and divvied up the food.

  They ate in companionable silence, punctuated by an occasional comment about the ranch and its operation, or something equally mundane. The light scent of apple blossoms curled around them, and the faint hum of bees in the trees served as a relaxing symphony.

  Caitlan finished her sandwich and potato salad and put away the remnants of her lunch. She licked a smear of mayonnaise from her thumb. "I do have to say, Laura puts together a terrific meal."

  "It wasn't half bad." J.T. reclined lazily on the blanket. "Apple?" he offered, then crunched into his own.

  She shook her head. "Maybe later. I think I'll go rinse my hands in the creek."

  Away from J.T., Caitlan absorbed her surroundings, searching beyond the beauty of the land to tap into something more profound. Since the moment they'd arrived at this meadow, peculiar sensations had taken up residence in her. As if she'd been here before with J.T. But how could that be?

  Dipping her hands into the creek, the water sparkled from the sun as it rippled away from her and over the smooth rocks. Glancing downstream, she saw places where the creek was shallow, where a person could easily walk across, and other areas too deep to detect anything but a bottomless, black pit. A chill swept through her, despite the pleasant warmth of the spring day, and she straightened, backing away from the swirling water. In her mind's eyes she saw the water churning and a little girl struggling to keep her head above the surface and slowly losing the battle.

  Heart pounding, Caitlan turned away from the creek and banished the oppressive image. Where had that vision come from? she wondered, still a little shaken, as if she'd been the little girl on the verge of drowning.

  Dismissing her unease, she started back toward J.T., smiling at his relaxed pose. He lay on his back, hands stacked beneath his head, eyes closed. His chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths. She stole a few moments to admire his lean form, and the way denim and flannel fit his muscular build to perfection.

  Not wanting to disturb him, she strolled to the base of the tree, compelled by forces she didn't understand. A familiarity ribboned around her, like invisible strings pulling her closer to a precipice. A deeply etched carving in the trunk of the tree caught Caitlan's attention: a heart with an inscription of some sort, she noticed. She smiled at the sweet sentiment, until she stood close enough to recognize the names engraved in the center of the heart. J.T. loves Amanda.

  Tentatively touching her finger to the smooth engraving, Caitlan traced the letters, feeling as though this was somehow a part of her. Deeply and widely sculpted, the declaration would remain for decades in the tree. Warmth rushed through her veins, and images flashed in her mind.

  Young J.T. held the blond-haired girl's hand, pulling her toward the large tree by the creek.

  "I've got a surprise for you, Mandy. Look."

  The girl's breath caught when she saw the heart carved in the tree; then her face reflected the love he'd inscribed for her there.

  "I did it so everyone will know how much I love you," he said.

  "Amanda," Caitlan whispered, the name thick in her throat. Amanda, the girl in her visions with J.T. Caitlan frowned. Why did she share such a strong and powerful link to these two people, that she could tap into their past and see it so clearly? Heaven help her, what was the significance of these visions?

  She glanced over her shoulder at J.T. Eyes open, he regarded her pensively, as if he too was remembering the day he'd shown Amanda the carved heart.

  "Is she the one who died?" Caitlan knew before he answered that Amanda was the woman he'd loved and lost: his eternal soulmate.

  "Yes." A sad smile brushed his mouth. "This was our special place. I think we christened it our meadow the day she fell into the creek."

  "What happened?"

  He hesitated, as if debating whether or not to share the memories with her. After a moment he propped himself up on his side, a reminiscent smile curving his mouth. "Amanda was seven, and she and my sister had come here to play with their dolls. I just happened to ride by on my mare, with the intention of antagonizing them, as all good brothers do to their little sisters and their friends. I saw Amanda slip and fall into one of the deepest parts of the creek. She couldn't swim, so I dove in and saved her from drowning."

  That explained her earlier vision of the little girl struggling in the creek, Caitlan thought, but it didn't unravel the mystery of why she had experienced those momentary flashes of fear, as if she was the one drowning.

  She went back to the blanket and sat cross-legged a few feet away from J.T. "I take it you became her hero?" she prompted, wanting to know more about this illusive child-woman who'd captured his heart.

  "Yeah. After that day she was a complete nuisance, always following me around like a devoted puppy. We played together, but I remember wondering if Amanda would always be my shadow." Shaking his head, he chuckled softly. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous light. "Then I grew up and discovered why boys like girls so much. I started looking at Amanda differently, started noticing she had nice breasts and long legs. And whenever I got too close to her or she'd accidentally brush up against me, I'd feel warm and anxious…and aroused. Typical male hormones running rampant," he said with a grin. Then his humor fled, his expression touched with melancholy. "It only took a kiss, a very reluctant kiss from her," he admitted, "to know we were made for each other."

  "Childhood sweethearts." Caitlan pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs.

  "Yeah." His finger drew lazy patterns on the red-and-black-checkered squares on the blanket. "We grew up together. Our families had been neighbors all our lives, so it seemed only natural that the two of us get together. I don't think either of our parents expected it to last, but I knew Amanda was the only one for me. I knew we'd get married someday… " His voice trailed off, his eyes filling with a tangible pain.

 
Caitlan watched him struggle with an internal anguish, his torment becoming her own. His loss and pain weighed heavily on her, making her heart ache. Unexplainable emotions crowded her throat, and she resisted the urge to touch him and chase away his misery.

  He took a deep breath and forged on, as if wanting to purge himself of all his haunting memories. "Remember in the line shack when I was dreaming?"

  "Yes."

  "I was dreaming of Amanda, and when I started to wake up I thought you were her." An abrupt, harsh laugh escaped him. "I actually thought Amanda hadn't died, and I was so disappointed to find it was all just a dream. She was my life, Caitlan."

  He stared at her for long moments, then reached up and ran the back of his knuckles down Caitlan's cheek, a feather touch so gentle it made her breath catch. A distinct tingle shot through her as their gazes locked. Very softly he said, "You remind me a lot of her."

  An illusion of intimacy shimmered around Caitlan, and something else, a nagging familiarity that tugged at the edges of her consciousness. You remind me a lot of her. Could that explain the bond to him, and Amanda? And what, exactly, was her resemblance to Amanda?

  "Do I… look like her?" Caitlan asked, needing to find answers to all the confusing emotions and visions plaguing her on this mission.

  A lazy smile eased up the corner of his mouth. "She had eyes like yours, the same deep violet color. And she had a dimple too, like yours." His finger brushed over the crease in her cheek before falling away. "But that's where the physical similarities end. She had blond hair."

  She had eyes like yours, the same deep violet color. And she had a dimple too, like yours. A pressure clamped around Caitlan's chest, suffocating her. Something taunted her conscience, like an itch she couldn't quite reach to scratch. Mentally, she searched her own background, desperate for answers, but found that section of her memory locked from her, as if she suffered from amnesia.

  Frustration coiled through her. Why couldn't she remember any of her own memories of her past? Determined to learn more about this woman who seemed such an integral part of her visions, Caitlan asked, "What happened to Amanda?" When J.T. glanced at her questioningly she clarified, "I mean, how and when did she die?"

  His mouth tightened with grief, and his eyes flashed with old, harbored anger. Immediately Caitlan knew she'd barged past the boundaries J.T. had constructed around his heart and those painful memories. "I'm sorry, J.T. I didn't mean-"

  "No, it's okay." Heaving a heavy sigh, he pulled a blade of grass from the edge of the blanket and began shredding it. "I've never really talked about that night, but… I want to now."

  Caitlan propped her chin on her knees and listened attentively as J.T. recited the events of his last night with Amanda: how he'd taken her to the line shack and proposed to her for her eighteenth birthday. He told Caitlan of their hopes and dreams for the future, painting a beautiful picture of two people so deeply in love that their devotion and passion for one another wove through Caitlan like intrinsic ribbons to her soul.

  Then the darker side of the story came, the ending to the beginning of J.T. and Amanda's life together.

  "We were on our way to tell her parents about our engagement when a drunk driver hit us head on." J.T.'s voice vibrated with gut-wrenching loss. "Amanda was killed instantly."

  At that moment Caitlan was thrust into a maelstrom of visions and emotions that echoed through her body and brought on a splitting headache that made her gasp.

  The screech of brakes. The grind of metal against metal. Screams that seemed to rip from her soul. Shattering glass. Horrible, awful pain. Darkness. Then a burst of light at the end of a black corridor, accompanied by a peacefulness as she drifted up and away, toward the sky.

  The medallion burned like fire between Caitlan's breasts, and she pulled the gold pendant out of her blouse, wanting more than ever to summon her Superiors and ask them what was going on and why she was experiencing such intense recollections that made no sense to her. And why, heaven help her, had she experienced Amanda's terror and anguish during the car crash?

  "Caitlan? Are you okay?" J.T.'s hand was on her knee, shaking her back into the present.

  Caitlan blinked, and the tears gathered in her eyes rolled down her cheeks. She dropped the hot medallion, deliberately setting it on the outside of her blouse until it completely cooled.

  Hand trembling, she wiped away the moisture on her cheeks, still stunned by her reaction to his tale. Sniffling, she offered J.T. a wobbly smile. "That's such a sad story."

  "Don't cry, Caitlan. It happened sixteen years ago." J.T. sat up. Caitlan's tears affected him deeply, because he knew they were genuine and offered in compassion. God, she was so sweet and pure, so unpretentious and giving-the same qualities he'd loved in Amanda and had thought no other woman possessed.

  He thumbed another tear from her cheek, loving the silky texture of her skin. "I've learned to live with the loss, but I'd be a liar if I said I've never wondered what my life would be like if Amanda hadn't died. I still think about it. And sometimes I've even wished I would have died instead of her."

  Caitlan's eyes widened slightly. "No!"

  Her heated protest made him smile. "Yeah, you're right. Then I never would have had Laura." Then I never would have met you. Unable to define where that had come from, he mentally shook the thought right out of his head.

  And just as easily another thought took its place. He wanted to kiss her, and the soft, sensual look in her violet eyes said she wanted it too. But he'd tasted her before, and he knew better than to think he'd be able to put her aside after one kiss. No, if his mouth so much as touched hers, he wouldn't stop until they'd made love-and it would be a long, slow, lazy process because he'd want to taste and explore every inch of her. Even then he couldn't guarantee that would be enough to satisfy him. Not with her.

  His eyes slid from her parted lips to the pendant around her neck: the pendant she'd clutched so desperately only minutes before. The gold glowed as if it held a life of its own, just like the first time he'd seen it in the line shack while she'd checked his head injury. This time, he gave into temptation and picked up the medallion. The warm gold tingled in his palm as he examined the swirled design.

  He glanced up at her. A banked wariness lit her eyes, and he noticed she watched him closely. "Where did you get this?" he asked easily.

  J.T. heard the reluctance in her voice when she replied, "Its been in the family for years."

  "It's… different." The medallion did look like a family heirloom, but there was something else about it that lured and fascinated him. He rubbed his thumb over the surface, and a heat radiated up his arm, tingling along his nerve endings. Then, incredibly, he felt a pull on his senses, like a huge magnet drawing the very life out of him. He was powerless to stop it from happening. In the next instant a part of him seemed to merge with Caitlan, in her mind, in her soul, a union so extraordinary in its power and beauty, he felt intimately joined with her, heart, body and soul. The pendant blazed like fire in his hand and he let it drop back to her blouse.

  The whole exchange had happened so fast, he wondered if he'd only imagined the odd experience. The startled look in Caitlan's eyes confirmed that something had passed between them, but he couldn't bring himself to ask and possibly look like a fool for suggesting a psychic encounter had momentarily linked them. The incident had been too weird for his peace of mind, like a quick out-of-body experience.

  Maybe he was losing his mind, he thought.

  Deciding it was time to get back on the trail and put things into proper perspective, he grabbed his hat and jammed it on his head. He stood and extended his hand to her. "It's getting late. We'd better head back."

  She nodded her agreement and put her hand in his, allowing him to help her up. "Thank you," she said softly, her fingers flexing in his palm.

  They stood there, neither one moving, gazes locked. Caitlan's eyes darkened and her cheeks flushed with awareness. Her tongue darted out to touch her lower lip, as thou
gh the lingering effects of their encounter had aroused her. J.T. swore under his breath as a surge of heat sped through his veins. Hell, his own traitorous body throbbed with sexual excitement, demanding satisfaction. For a reckless second J.T. thought about damning consequences and lowering his mouth to hers and letting things proceed from there. Lord knew they both wanted each other, the sexual tension between them so palpable nothing but a physical joining could ease it.

  Knowing nothing could come of them making love, despite the closeness they'd established this afternoon, J.T. summoned every source of willpower he possessed. He tried to convince himself that Caitlan would be grateful he hadn't taken advantage of the situation once she was back in the city, where she belonged, heart intact.

  Distance, Rafferty; you need to put distance between you. Letting go of her hand, he stepped away. "You fold the blanket and I'll get the horses," he said in a rough voice. He headed toward Quinn and Blaze, hating the glimpse of hurt he'd seen in Caitlan's gaze. He swore again. Didn't she know how difficult it was to walk away from the sweet promise in her eyes?

  Once they were packed up and mounted, J.T. spurred Quinn into a heavy gallop, as much to work off his frustration as to get back to the house and around people so Caitlan wouldn't be such a temptation. He made sure Blaze kept up, but left enough distance between himself and Caitlan so that conversation was impossible.

  Coming up the last hundred yards, J.T. slowed Quinn. Looking ahead, he noticed a cluster of people standing around the barn-a few hands, Frank, Kirk, and Randal. Off to the side, Paula embraced Laura in a hug, his daughter's face buried in the woman's shoulder. Laura's friend, Karen, stood beside them, looking as though she'd been crying.

  A sense of foreboding twisted in J.T.'s gut. Bringing Quinn to an abrupt halt, he jumped off the horse, tossed the reins to a nearby hand, and strode toward Frank, Kirk, and Randal.

  Just as he reached the trio, Laura broke away from Paula and ran toward him. "Dad!" she wailed, tears streaming down her face.