by Janice Lynn
“Not a problem.” She wiped the seat dry with her gloves, then climbed into the truck.
Bodie closed her door, went around and got into the truck. Once he had the engine started, he turned to her. “Which direction do you want to drive?”
“Anywhere is fine. Surprise me.”
He backed up the truck and pulled out of her driveway.
After several minutes passed with no conversation, Sarah reached out and grabbed his hand. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you? I know something is.”
Bodie’s gaze dropped to where her gloved fingers wrapped around his bare fingers, firmly holding onto him.
Would she still want to hold his hand when they’d finished their talk?
“I shouldn’t have kissed you last night.”
Sarah’s hand tensed, but she didn’t let go as her gaze bore into him. “That’s what this is about? That stupid mistletoe kiss?”
She was right. The kiss had been stupid on so many levels.
“That and a lot more I need to tell you.”
She sighed. “Then tell me.”
Wondering at why this was so much harder than anything he’d done before, he sucked in a lungful of air, then went for broke. “I came to Pine Hill to find you.”
“I know. To answer my help wanted ad.”
Staring out at the road, he gripped the steering wheel tight with his free hand. “I didn’t know anything about your help wanted ad until everyone assumed that was why I was there.”
Sarah was quiet a few seconds, then asked, “Then why?”
“I have your quilt.”
Sarah wasn’t sure she’d heard Bodie correctly. “Pardon?”
With one hand, he gripped the steering wheel as if it were a lifeline. With his other hand, he flexed his fingers beneath hers, but Sarah didn’t let go.
“The quilt you donated to the Quilts of Valor Foundation,” he clarified, keeping his gaze toward the road. “I have it. It’s in the duffel bag behind your seat.”
“How…I… Wow.” Bodie was the soldier who’d received her quilt? All the hours she’d put into that quilt, thinking of who it would go to, not once could she have imagined someone like Bodie.
“I came to Pine Hill to say thank you.”
Trying to let what he was saying sink in, Sarah stared at his tense profile. “And you went to work for me instead?”
Still not looking her way, he shrugged. “You needed my help and I owed you.”
“You didn’t owe me anything.” Sarah’s stomach lurched as ugly realization hit. “That’s what all this has been? Repayment for my having donated a quilt? That’s why you’re at Hamilton House? Why you’ve worked so hard?”
He’d helped her out of a sense of obligation. Had that been what everything between them had been about? Even his kiss?
Of course he’d felt obligated.
They’d been sitting beneath mistletoe with her ordering him to kiss her. The whole time he’d been in town, he’d done everything she’d asked of him. She’d thought it was because he cared about her—as a friend, at the very least. But now… He’d played along with the kiss. How could he have not, without embarrassing her in front of the Harveys?
She was embarrassed now.
He met her gaze for a second before returning his focus to the road. “The pattern of stars, the hand-quilting, the time you put into that quilt, the words you wrote in the attached note about life in Pine Hill and thanking me, an unknown soldier, for making that life possible…” His voice held awe. “I don’t think you understand how much your quilt meant to me.”
Bodie had her quilt. The one she’d started prior to Aunt Jean getting sick, the one she’d quilted by hand while sitting at the hospital with her aunt hour after hour. The quilt she’d let dry her tears of sorrow when her aunt had passed.
She’d almost kept that quilt. Instead, she’d reminded herself of why she’d made it, reminded herself that there was someone out there who needed it more than she did. So, instead of keeping it, she’d written a note of all notes, expressing her gratitude for her life and all her blessings, her gratitude for those who made her life in Pine Hill possible.
Bodie had been that someone, that soldier.
“I know how much it meant to me to give it,” she began, heat flushing her face. Her heart pounded, rattling her ribcage.
“Then you understand why it was just as important to me to give something back to you.”
All this time, he’d been working with such dedication at Hamilton House because he was reciprocating kindness for her quilt. All his attention to detail, taking his time to do things the right way, being nice to her, helping her with anything she asked, it had all been because of the quilt.
Her insides shredded into little bits as a mix of emotions hit her.
Please don’t cry, Sarah. Please don’t cry. Grasp onto how angry his having deceived you this way makes you feel, but don’t cry.
“I didn’t need your charity.”
“But I did need yours.”
Stunned at his soft confession, Sarah’s attempt at holding onto anger became more difficult and she stared at him. “I don’t understand.”
Still watching the road, Bodie winced. “Maybe going for a drive for this conversation wasn’t a good idea.”
“We can turn back,” she suggested, determined that they would have this conversation without any more delays.
Seeming to recognize where they were, he drove a little farther, turned into the city park, and pulled into a parking place. They were the only ones there.
Sarah refused to let thoughts of the night before, when they’d also been at the park, into her mind. She needed to keep clear-headed.
“Unfortunately,” Bodie said as he put the truck into park, “I can’t turn back time.”
“Not what I meant. But is that what you want? To turn back time?”
He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel but didn’t answer, just seemed to be considering his next words.
“What would you do different if you could turn back time?” she pressed, knowing that whatever was going on in his head was important, that as deceived as she felt, this conversation needed to take place. She couldn’t let him retreat without having told her everything.
“I’d have thanked you for my quilt and left Pine Hill immediately.”
Ouch. His answer stung. Because he’d rather not have gotten to know her?
“Actually, that’s not true,” he revised, raking his fingers through his short hair. “Hamilton House wouldn’t have been ready by Christmas if I hadn’t stayed.”
“If you believe that, you don’t know me as well as I would have thought. I’d have found a way,” she assured him. Even if it meant she had to watch online how-to videos and suffer through trial and error or beg the men and women at church to come help her, she’d have finished by Christmas Day to have her open house.
“My being here made it easier.”
“True.” His being there had made the suites perfect—better than she’d envisioned them. His being there had been wonderful and had filled the void in Hamilton House she’d felt since Aunt Jean had died. But that made his revelation sting even more. It had felt wonderful to her. It had felt like obligation to him, and that spoiled everything.
Lifting her chin, she stared him straight in the eyes. “I appreciate you helping me, Bodie, but your coming here wasn’t necessary.”
“It was.”
Refusing to soften at the look in his blue eyes, she kept her head high. “I didn’t give that quilt to make someone feel obligated to me.”
“Thankful isn’t the same as obligated,” he pointed out.
“Is that why you kissed me last night? Thankfulness?” Her voice held a nasty edge she didn’t like and could barely even recognize as her own. What was wrong wi
th her? She didn’t talk this way. Didn’t feel this way.
Which was what exactly? Defensive? Bitter? Hurt? She had no right to feel any of those things. Yes, he should have told her the truth about the quilt. But he’d come to thank her. He’d stayed to be kind. Did she really have any right to resent that?
“I kissed you because you told me to.”
Sarah winced. She’d ordered him to kiss her, really.
“But the truth is,” he continued. “I wanted to kiss you, Sarah. Just not because Mrs. Harvey said to or because there was mistletoe, but because I like you.”
Warmth filled her and she disliked herself for it. No, no, no. She shouldn’t feel this way, couldn’t let herself feel this way or read anything into his confession.
“I like you, too.” She sure shouldn’t have made a confession of her own.
“But you shouldn’t.”
Yep. At least they agreed on something.
Growing restless with the non-moving truck, or perhaps a bit agitated at the high emotions in the cab, Harry climbed between Bodie and the steering wheel to press his nose against the window, then whimpered.
“You need out, boy?”
The dog whimpered again.
Opening the door, Bodie let Harry jump out.
“Stay close,” he ordered as the dog took off to inspect a nearby tree. Keeping an eye on the dog, he continued, his voice low, as if he really didn’t want her to hear what he said next. “I was in a bad place when I was given your quilt. Physically, mentally, emotionally.”
The pain in his voice cut into her like the sharpest sword.
“What happened to you, Bodie?”
Chapter Fifteen
Bodie ran his palms over the steering wheel, knowing he had to talk to Sarah about what had happened. Reliving the events that led him to Pine Hill wasn’t going to be easy, but she deserved the truth.
“I almost died.”
Sarah face paled at his words. They were harsh. They were also true.
“I should have.” Parts of him had—or so he’d thought at the time. Lately, since meeting Sarah, glimmers of those parts he’d thought were forever gone had revived, sparking to life.
“No,” she denied, placing her hand on his arm. “You shouldn’t have.”
“You don’t understand,” he started again, forcing his next words from his mouth because he had to confess the truth. “We’d left a small village where we’d been staked out for a few days. All of us knew something didn’t feel right and we were relieved when we got the orders to get out. None of us wanted to be there. We’d not gone a mile out of town when the IED went off.”
“Bodie,” Sarah gasped, her hand squeezing his arm in a gesture meant to comfort.
Back then, nothing had comforted the raw pain inside him. Nothing until he’d been awarded a beautiful work of art she’d made, held her quilt, read her note, and known he needed to recover so he could thank her in person.
“I don’t remember much after that. Just a blinding pain, seeing things no person should see, and then nothing.” He twisted in the seat to face her, to let her see his shame. “No one else survived, Sarah. Just me.”
Her face paled even further. “I’m so sorry, Bodie.”
“I have flashes of being found, of being put in a helicopter, then not much else until I woke in a hospital in Germany two weeks later.” He swallowed and continued, hating to tell her of his gruesome past, trying to gloss over details, but needing her to understand. “I was there for several more weeks. Next, they sent me to a stateside army hospital where I stayed for a month or so, then a rehab facility for another couple of months, before being discharged to stay at a friend’s place. I was there until the day we met.”
“Your friend Lukas?”
Bodie nodded. “It was while I was in the Army hospital that I was presented with your quilt. One of my nurses was involved with the Quilts of Valor Foundation and thought I needed it.” He took a deep breath. “She was right.”
Sarah placed her hand on her chest. “I’m glad she gave it to you.”
“Me, too. After the presentation, I read your note and it sparked the first flicker of light I’d felt inside me since the accident.” He looked at her, hoping she understood what he was saying. “I didn’t deserve to survive, Sarah, not when the others didn’t. Although my body had been healing, my mind hadn’t even started. I was their commanding officer and I failed to keep them safe.”
Something he’d never completely forgive himself for. How could he?
“I wanted to have died with them. Until I held your quilt and read your note.” He’d read that note so many times that he’d worn the paper ragged, could quote her words about a blessed life that she owed to men and women like him, about how much she appreciated the sacrifice he made, prayed for him, and hoped he found the peace she knew. That night had been his first without waking, covered in sweat, to the sounds of screams in his head.
Beneath her quilt, the nightmares slowed. He’d wanted to get better to find her, to thank her in person for making the world brighter, making his world brighter.
“That’s why I had to come to Pine Hill, to find you. I needed to tell you thank you for doing what the doctors hadn’t been able to do.”
Sarah’s head spun from everything Bodie was saying.
Her heart ached from his words, from the thought of his beautiful body having been hurt, from his mind having been tortured by gruesome memories and survivor’s guilt.
“You weren’t what I expected to find,” he admitted, laughing a little. “That’s why I assumed Carrie was pointing to Maybelle that day. She fit with my image of who’d made my quilt.”
That explained a lot.
“But it was you,” he said. “I’m glad it was you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”
“I was going to show you my gratitude by helping with Hamilton House, then I’d leave without ever telling you I had your quilt.”
She let that sink in. “So why tell me now? What’s changed?”
“Me.”
She waited for him to say more, but then, as usual, had to prompt him.
“How did you change, Bodie?”
“More like what—or rather, who—changed me.” His gaze went to where Harry was playing with a stick he’d found. “Just like with your quilt, you changed me.”
Sarah sucked in a breath.
“You are so full of goodness that being near you makes me feel hope again. How can I not believe in goodness when all I have to do is be near you to feel it?”
Gratitude. He was full of gratitude toward her. She was glad, but…
“I…thank you.”
“I took the job with Lukas at iSecure because it’s the closest I thought I could be to getting my life back. Now I see it for what it is. An opportunity to work my way back to doing what I love, a chance to serve and protect again. I get to be whole again.” Excitement underlined his words, emphasizing their truth. “I’m not telling you all this because I expect anything from you. I don’t. I just needed to tell you everything.”
“But that still doesn’t explain why you chose to tell me now. You could have kept it a secret—I’d never have known.”
Maybe that would have been better. She didn’t want his gratitude. She wanted… she closed her eyes. What she wanted didn’t matter, not when she heard the truth in Bodie’s voice, the excitement at the prospect of his future…far away from her.
“There’s more I need to say.”
She swallowed, wondering what could possibly be more than what he’d already revealed.
“I’m falling for you.”
Startled at his confession, her lips parted, but no words came out.
“I’m not sure any man could spend time with you and not fall for you, Sarah.”
“Oh, there h
ave been plenty who haven’t.” She couldn’t believe Bodie was saying he had. Yes, she’d seen the look he sometimes got, had felt the changes in him, but she hadn’t dared believe he was falling for her.
“Then they never really saw the woman I see. They couldn’t have.”
Stunned, Sarah stared at him. Was it possible Bodie was the hero she’d dreamed of while sewing the quilt? Her knight in shining armor who’d never leave her? Or was he just feeling misguided gratitude? And did any of this change his plans? Was he still leaving?
“That’s a sweet thing to say,” she began, her mind full as she tried to comprehend what was happening.
“I’m not a sweet man, Sarah. What I’m saying is the truth.”
“You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever known, Bodie.”
A redbird flew low where Harry played, grabbing the dog’s attention, and he took off after it, barking and chasing it towards the woods.
Frowning, Bodie opened the truck door, and half stepped out. “Harry!”
Slowing, the dog looked their way.
“Come here.”
Harry hesitated, gave one last look of longing in the direction the bird had flown, then bounded toward them full speed, not slowing until he reached Bodie.
“Good dog.” Bodie squatted and gave the dog a good rubbing down and more words of praise.
Shivering from the cold air filling the truck through the open door, Sarah watched them, while processing everything he’d said.
Bodie had come to find her and now he was falling for her.
With the way her heart fluttered when he was near, when he’d kissed her the night before, it would be so easy to fall for him, too.
But as wonderful as the thought of falling in love with Bodie was, she knew that didn’t change the fact he was leaving.
Leaving was in his blood.
Pine Hill was in hers.
Sadness filled her at what might have been if either of them were different people, had different dreams. Part of her wanted to beg him to stay, to give them a chance to see what could be.
