Callaghan's Way

by Marie Ferrarella

  She reminded herself that she was light-years away from that young girl with the crush.

  “You sure do know how to entertain a woman,” Rachel told him with a laugh as they walked outside. “Free dinner, free drinks, free air.” She turned to look at him. “Careful, you might turn my head.”

  “Never happen,” he assured her. They stepped aside as a couple, very obviously in love, passed them to enter the club. “You were always the most grounded person I knew.”

  She let out a sigh and shook her head. “You make me sound boring.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, and saw her the way she had been. Affection slipped into his voice. “Not boring, Funny Face. Never boring.”

  He took her hand. And they went for a walk, staring into the darkened windows of the closed stores along the strip and sharing memories.

  Chapter 6

  The drive home was far too short for her liking. Rachel wanted to stay out longer, to talk more. She had a feeling that, with enough time, things would start to fall into place. And it would take time to peel away the thin, sinewy layers that years and distance had put into place between them.

  But for now, she’d made very little headway. It was like shadowboxing with the wind. She knew no more about what had happened in the years between then and now than Kirk wanted her to know.

  Frustration was chewing tiny holes in her. The gaps would be filled in only when Kirk was good and ready to fill them in. She knew that. Yet impatience drummed long, pointy fingers on her soul. She hated being kept at a distance like this. Distance had never had a place between them before, and yet here it was, keeping them apart.

  When Kirk brought his minivan to a stop in her driveway, Rachel made no move to get out. Instead, she turned toward him. She maintained a purposefully innocent expression, masking her curiosity.

  “You know, you never got around to answering my question. What are you planning on doing with yourself while you’re here?” She raised her eyes to his, waiting to see if he would attempt to get out of telling her again.

  Kirk ran his hand slowly up and down the steering wheel. For a moment, Rachel had the image of him running his hands along a woman’s body—her body. She blinked and blew out a breath.

  “To be honest, I hadn’t planned that far.” It had taken all his concentration just to get here.

  “You? Without a plan?”

  Rachel grinned as she thought back to those long, hazy nights when he would sit outside, talking about his long-range goals, and the ways he would reach them. He’d had everything so well orchestrated, positive that he could meet all contingencies. He’d been so sure, so adamant. It was hard to believe he’d changed that much.

  “Now that’s a first. You always had everything so mapped out.”

  That was because it had been the only thing that kept him going, Kirk thought. Having goals had kept him sane.

  He stared straight ahead at her garage door. The paint was beginning to chip in a couple of places, he noted absently. “Maps don’t always lead you to where you want to go.”

  And he’d discovered that his plans hadn’t led him to where he wanted to go, Rachel realized. “And where’s that, Kirk?” she asked softly. “Where did you find you wanted to go?”

  He continued staring, seeing something beyond the wood and stucco. “Never-never land.”

  The words had just popped out of his mouth without any thought. His answer seemed to surprise Rachel almost as much as it surprised him.

  Was he kidding her? Rachel stared at Kirk, attempting to understand. He’d always been such a realist. Had that changed, too? “Like Peter Pan?” she asked.

  Kirk laughed disparagingly at his own folly. He shook his head, dismissing what he’d said.

  But Rachel was taken with his answer. “You’d have to wear tights, you know.” Humor lit her eyes like bright candles as she lowered them for a better survey. “Might be rather interesting at that.”

  For a moment, because it amused him, because he liked hearing her laugh, he played along. “Everyone knows that Peter Pan was a girl.”

  “That was Mary Martin. To the audience, Peter Pan represents the eternal boy.” She reached out and touched his cheek before she could think better of it. “There was never anything boyish about you, Kirk, even when you were one.”

  Kirk pressed her hand to his cheek, taking the comfort she so blatantly offered. In that single moment, he allowed his guard to lower just a bit, and a little more of Rachel slipped through.

  If it hadn’t been for the bucket seats, Kirk would have pulled her into his arms, giving in to the sudden, strong impulse that rumbled through him.

  Rachel’s heart felt as if it were engaged in a fast and furious game of jump rope. If it beat any harder, she was certain, he would see it. As it was, it took her a moment to remember that breathing was necessary to perpetuate life.

  “You were always too much the man,” she ended, her voice almost a whisper, her eyes on his face. Oh, God, she thought, she wanted him to kiss her.

  Kirk struggled to regain control over his feelings. “You’d better go in.”

  It was almost an order, but Rachel remained where she was, searching for a reason to linger. If staying here with him just a little longer hadn’t felt so important, it would have made her smile. It almost seemed like old times, those long-ago summer nights when she would search madly for excuses to be with Kirk just a few minutes longer, under the guise of friendship.

  That same old feeling was beginning to come back to her. In spades.

  Oh, no, not again. She was twenty-seven years old, divorced, with a child to raise. She couldn’t be falling for him again.

  Could she?

  Her palms dampened.

  No, she couldn’t. It was just her reaction to the pleasant memories that they had shared tonight. He just represented a happier period in her life. Nothing more. She certainly wasn’t going to delude herself into thinking that she...

  That she felt something for him. Not in that way.

  She was too sensible to do something so stupid. Loving Kirk held no future. What she was experiencing was nostalgia.

  Nostalgia wrapped heated tentacles around her, making the air within the minivan very, very warm.

  “Why don’t you come in?” she suggested. “Ethan’s probably asleep by now, and I’m sure that Cameron would like to talk to you.” Maybe Cameron could draw Kirk out better. Maybe between the two of them...

  She thought he wanted to avoid her son, Kirk thought. He shook his head slightly.

  “Ethan’s fine,” he assured her. “Cameron, on the other hand, looked as tired as hell three hours ago. I’m sure he just wants to crawl into his own bed.” Kirk thought of last night, and a trickle of fondness seeped through. “I kept him up half the night, talking.” Kirk saw the skeptical look that entered her eyes. “Actually, he kept me up half the night talking.”

  Now that was something she could believe. Kirk had never been talkative, even at his best. Cameron was the loquacious one.

  “That sounds more like it.” She saw Kirk place his hand on the ignition key again. “Walk me to my door?” she urged quickly.

  Things were happening inside him that he didn’t quite understand. He felt differently about her tonight, and until he managed to get things into perspective, he thought it best just to leave. “I...”

  She wanted him to walk her to the door. She wanted every moment she could get. Somehow, it seemed important, though she wasn’t exactly certain just how. She smiled at him, amusement mingling with a beguiling she wasn’t aware that she possessed.

  But Kirk was.

  “Surely that’s not such a difficult request for a slayer of dragons.”

  The romanticized version was typical of her. “That was a drunk, not a dragon,” he pointed out. “And I didn’t slay him.”

  She thought it prudent not to mention the dark look she had seen in his eyes a second before he sent the intruder into slumberland.

  �
��Only because you didn’t have a sword in your hand.” She was making light of it, and yet some faraway part of her had secretly been thrilled. It was like a childhood fantasy come to life. He’d been her protector, just the way she had once envisioned him. “You should have seen yourself. I’m surprised lightning didn’t come from your brow.”

  He left the key in the ignition and slid his hand to his thigh. “You always did have a penchant for exaggeration.”

  She didn’t quite agree with his assessment, but she was willing to split the difference. “I might embellish a little now and then—”

  “Embellish? Is that what it’s called now?”

  “Just to be more colorful,” she continued, as if he hadn’t said anything. “Of course, being more colorful than you isn’t difficult, since you’re usually about as colorful as snow, but my point is that I don’t have to embellish this time,” she concluded. “An angered Kirk Callaghan is a fearsome sight to behold.”

  He laughed, just as she’d hoped he would. “All right, I give in. I’ll walk you to your door. Otherwise you’ll go on talking all night.”

  “Ah, chivalry is not dead.”

  Kirk got out and rounded the hood. Rachel remained sitting in the car, waiting. She was obviously expecting the whole nine yards. Since it cost him nothing, he gave it to her, bowing elaborately as he opened the door for her.

  “That’s more like it,” she murmured, stepping out.

  When had her legs gotten so long? he wondered as she tugged her skirt back into place. “It must be a whole twelve steps to your door from the driveway,” he said as he closed the door behind her.

  Not one to waste an opportunity, she hooked her arm through his. “It’s not the distance, it’s the company.” She saw the way his brow creased. “What’s wrong?”

  She still thought of him as the young man he’d been. She didn’t know that he had been completely emptied. She didn’t know that he had photographed anguish for posterity instead of saving lives, or that a soldier had died right before his camera’s eye. “You don’t know the first thing about me, Funny Face.”

  She wasn’t about to let him beat himself up this way, or drive a wedge between them, no matter how much he might want to. She swung around, determination in her eyes. Her hand closed over his in a silent plea.

  “I know everything about you.” She saw the resistance in his face and refused to let it stop her. “I know you’re good and kind and sensitive.” Her mouth curved a little. “Even if your scowl does freeze people in their tracks.”

  She didn’t understand. How could she, when she didn’t know. “Funny Face—”

  She laid a finger on his lips, silencing his protest. She wasn’t going to stand here and allow him to denigrate himself. Whatever he might have done in the years between then and now didn’t change how she felt. It didn’t change what she knew he was, underneath. A decent human being.

  “I don’t know what’s bothering you, Kirk, but I do know that nothing you can ever tell me, nothing you have ever done,” she said with feeling, “could make me change my mind about you.”

  He combed his fingers through her hair, touched by her sincerity. She was so innocent. So unsullied by the outside world. “Don’t be so sure.”

  What? What is it? She swallowed the questions, knowing now that it was too soon for him to tell her. Instead, she said the only thing she knew to be true. “I’m sure.”

  Kirk looked into her eyes and saw that she meant it. God, had there ever been such innocence touching his life? Had he ever been part of that world?

  He glanced in the direction of the house next door. No, he hadn’t, Kirk thought. Not really. Rachel, the way she thought, the way she was, was something apart from his life. She was his peek into a world that could have been—but not for him.

  Fondness softened his features. “You are one in a million.”

  So are you. Somehow I’ve got to make you believe that. “I always told you that.”

  “And you were right.” Kirk shook his head and smiled. “Good night, Funny Face. Thanks for tonight.” Moved by impulse, Kirk leaned over and kissed her cheek.

  She had no idea what made her do it. At the very last moment, she turned her head so that her lips brushed ever so lightly across his.

  The jolt, she thought—when she could think again—could probably be felt for miles. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that a power surge had rippled out through southern California, its epicenter right here on her doorstep.

  She curled her fingers into her palms to keep from encircling his neck with them. That would only scare him away.

  Instant hunger filled his being, and it took everything Kirk had not to pull her into his arms and kiss her the way he wanted to. The way, he realized, he had wanted to all night.

  What had come over him? This was Funny Face, for crying out loud, not some woman he had met in one of the countless bars he’d passed through.

  Startled, Kirk backed away, the way a man did when he realized that he had almost stepped on a live wire that was dangling before him on the ground.

  “Good night,” Rachel murmured.

  Kirk inclined his head slightly, then turned away and quickly walked to his minivan. His lips throbbed as if they’d gotten burned.

  Rachel continued to stand on her porch even after Kirk had pulled away. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging the shivery sensation to her like an unexpected treasure.

  Wow, she thought. Oh, wow...

  With an effort, she turned away and let herself into her house. The sound of a television set in the background reached out to penetrate the haze around her.

  Cameron was alone. He was sitting on the sofa, his dark blue eyes glazed over as he watched the final minutes of a cop show that relied heavily on car chases and improbable situations to reel in its audience. When he was more rested, Cameron enjoyed pointing out the flaws in shows like that.

  He blinked and came to life as Rachel eased the door closed behind her. “What happened to Kirk?” he asked, looking around.

  At her brother’s question, a little of the euphoric bubble dissolved. “He went home.” She dropped her purse on the table.

  The look on her brother’s face was a mixture of surprise and disappointment. “I think I’ve been snubbed.”

  Rachel knew Cameron had a whole host of friends, but Kirk had always been special to him. Perhaps because their differences complemented one another so well. “He wanted to let you get your rest.”

  He snorted as he retrieved a television guide from the floor and tossed it back onto the coffee table. “He makes me sound like an old man. I’m only two months older than he is.”

  “Three,” she corrected, dropping down next to her brother on the sofa. She tucked one leg under her as she made herself comfortable. “He said you stayed up all last night talking.”

  “Only half the night,” Cameron replied. He shifted and let out a slight groan. “You need a new sofa. This one’s not made for comfort.”

  “It’s not made for sleeping, either,” she said affectionately, pointing to the cushion next to her, where a faint impression revealed that Cameron hadn’t spent the entire evening in an upright position. She blew out a breath, then looked toward the stairs. “So, how did it go with the black prince tonight?”

  Cameron laughed. He’d bestowed that name on Ethan the day he was born. The first time he’d seen his nephew, the infant had been scowling. The nickname, Rachel decided, could just as easily be applied to Kirk.

  “Ethan settled in after a bit. We watched some television. He played video games on that damned handheld thing of his. He even did some homework, although under protest.”

  Ethan still had his good moments. She clung to that. “Is there any other way?”

  “Probably not,” Cameron replied, linking his hands behind his head and studying her face. She looked flushed. As if she were running. Or as if something had made her breathless. “How about you? How was your evening with Kirk?” he casual
ly asked.

  “Interesting,” she said evasively. She wasn’t quite ready to share the fact that she had kissed him. Not by any stretch of her imagination could she turn it around to say that Kirk had kissed her.

  “Interesting?” Cameron prodded. “As in how?”

  “As in he punched a guy out.” She slanted a look to see how Cameron reacted to that.

  “I’m assuming there was a reason for that.”

  “The man was trying to cut in...” she began.

  “I’m surprised the guy’s alive, then,” he deadpanned.

  Rachel shook her head. “Let me finish. The man was drunk, and he tried to pull me away.”

  “Like I said, I’m surprised the guy’s still alive.” Cameron sat up. “He is alive, isn’t he?”

  “Last I saw, the bouncer was depositing him outside.”

  With eyes trained to take in every minute detail, Cameron looked her over. “Are you hurt?”

  She smiled. “No. A little thrilled, maybe, or am I not supposed to admit that?”

  He laughed at her. “Not to a police detective, unless, of course, he’s your brother and used to overlooking a myriad of faults and quirks.”

  Rachel sat up. “Those are your faults and quirks you’re talking about, not mine.”

  “We’ll talk,” Cameron promised. He rose and stretched again. “Well, old or not, I’d better be getting home. The captain wants us all in early tomorrow. Something about the mayor holding a meeting to promote a harvest festival.” He shook his head at the thought. “Harvest festival,” he repeated incredulously. “God, it’s only early spring.”

  Rachel made sympathetic noises. She was only half listening as she followed him to the door. “Cameron, did Kirk seem...I don’t know—” she hunted for the right word, and fell back on the most common, though it didn’t quite describe what she meant “—preoccupied to you?”

  Cameron didn’t hesitate. “Yes, but then, that’s Kirk. You know what he’s like. He was never exactly a Fourth of July sparkler.” He looked at her fondly. “That was your department.”

  She ignored the last comment, except to note that in some ways Cameron and Kirk were very alike. Kirk had said almost the same thing to her.