A Soldier for Christmas (3 page)

That was Katherine. Always wishing for happy endings for other people. “It’s not how it looks. We’re just friends.”

“Right, well, that’s the best way to start out. You never know what will develop from there. I’m saying prayers for you. No one deserves a happy ending more than you.”

“There are no such things as happy endings.” Kelly knew that for an absolute fact. “This isn’t a fairy tale. He’s only in town for a little while.”

“You just never know what the Lord has in store for you. It wasn’t fair what happened with Joe.”

She had to go and mention it. Kelly swallowed hard, wrestling down painful memories—the weight of them heavy on her heart, along with too many regrets. Too many failures. “Life is like that. It’s not fair.”

“No, but in the end, good things happen to good people. I believe that.” Katherine breezed into her office, sure of her view of the world.

Kelly didn’t have the heart to believe. She could not let herself dream. Not even the tiniest of wishes. She was no longer a girl who believed in fairy tales, but a grown woman who kept her feet on the ground.

She had no faith left for dreaming.

“I
think it’s gonna be a quiet Friday night.” Spence emerged from one of the fiction aisles with a book in hand. “How’s the studying coming?”

“I’m less confused, I think. I haven’t taken math since high school and I’ve forgotten just about everything but the basics.”

“That’s why I use a calculator.” Spence nodded toward the front windows. “The soldier who was in here earlier? He’s back.”

“He is?” It took all her effort to sound unaffected. She turned slowly toward the front, as if she hadn’t been of two minds about their upcoming dinner. She squinted through the harsh sunshine that haloed the wide-shouldered man.

She recognized the silhouette striding away from a dusty Jeep, carrying a big take-out bag and a cardboard drink carrier in one hand. The light gave him a golden glow, and he was all might and strength and integrity. She remembered what he’d said about needing a friend. It had to be a lonely life he’d chosen.

Spence cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re dating again.”

Heat crept up her face. She busily set the alarm on her watch, so she wouldn’t go over her allotted break time. “It isn’t like that, Spence. Really.”

“Okay.” Like Katherine, he didn’t sound as if he believed her. “Go ahead. Have a nice time.”

It was Mitch. How could she not have a nice visit? As he strode her way, she beat him to the door. His welcoming smile was lopsided and friendly—definitely a smile that could make a girl dream. “I’m free for half an hour.”

“I’m glad they loosened the chains.” His shadow fell across her, covering her completely. “Wanna eat across the street? I saw a couple of tables and benches. Okay?”

“Sure. I eat over there all the time.”

Walking at his side, she realized that he was bigger and taller than she had thought. He was a big powerful bear of a guy, his field boots thudding against the pavement. She felt safe with him. Comfortable. “Isn’t Montana a little landlocked for a marine?”

“It would be, if I worked on a ship. That would be navy.”

“But you’re training at the army base?”

“I’m doing some advanced mountaineering. They train their Rangers there, and they’re letting my platoon climb around on their rocks.”

“Advanced mountaineering. That sounds serious.”

“We’re doing tactical stuff while we’re climbing,” he explained with a shrug.

“You must be pretty good.”

“I haven’t fallen yet.”

She stopped at his side, at the curb, waiting for the few cars and trucks to pass. “What exactly do you do in the marines?”

“I’m like a scout. It’s clear,” he said, referring to the traffic and, as he stepped off the curb, laid his free hand on her shoulder. Not exactly guiding her, as much as guarding.

Kelly shivered down to her soul. Nice. Very nice. What girl wouldn’t appreciate a soldier’s protective presence? They stepped up on the curb together on the other side of the road, and his hand fell away. The world felt a little lonelier.

“How about that table?” She nodded toward the closest picnic table in the park, which was well shaded beneath a pair of broad-leafed maples.

“That’ll work,” he agreed amicably.

It was hard to keep pace with him as they made their way across the lush, clipped grass. He didn’t walk so much as he power walked, even though he was obviously shortening his long-legged pace for her. She had to hurry to keep up with him as he crossed the grass. “How long are you going to be in Montana?”

“I’ve been here three weeks. I’ve got five more to go.” He set the drinks and food on the table, then pulled out the bench for her. “That means I’ll be outta here mid-September.”

“And then back to California?”

“Like I said, they keep me busy.” Mitch could only nod. He waited while she settled onto the bench, and the breeze brought a faint scent of her vanilla shampoo. The warmth in his chest changed to something sweeter.

She watched him with gentle blue eyes. “I didn’t know marines climbed mountains.”

“We climb whatever we’re ordered to climb.” He freed a large cup from the carrier. “I brought orange soda or root beer. The lady picks first.”

“I love orange soda. Good guess.”

He didn’t mention that he’d noticed the pop bottle she’d had on the store counter beside her schoolbooks. He set the cup beside her. Had she figured out that this was a date yet?

“Cheeseburger, as ordered.” He handed out the chow. “Do you want to say grace or will you let me?”

“Go for it.” She folded her hands, so sincere.

He brimmed with a strange tenderness as he bowed his head together with hers. “Dear Father, thank you for watching over us today. Please bless this food and our renewed friendship. Amen.”

“Amen.” A renewed friendship, huh? Kelly unclasped her hands and unwrapped her burger. At least he wasn’t trying to make this a date. “Why the marines?”

“That’s easy.” He dug a few ketchup containers out of the bottom of the bag and as the wind caught the empty sack, he anchored it. “My life has a purpose. I make a difference.”

“That matters to you.” She took a long look at him. “Making a difference matters to me, too.”

“When I was a kid, watching the news coverage of Desert Storm, I was blown away by this segment they did on the marines. They were these powerful men with weapons, and they were taking care of refugees from the fighting. One of the refugees said how amazed he was by these big men. They looked fearsome, but they were also kind.”

That pretty much summed it up for her. Kelly blinked and tried to act as if his words hadn’t sunk into her heart. He’d grown up and grown well. She only had to look into his clear, expressive eyes to know that he was a very fine man.

Mitch took a big bite of his burger and leaned closer to dig a handful of fries out of the container. “Then it hit me, just how great that was in this world. To be a warrior fierce enough to protect and defend, to stand for what is right. That’s honor, in my opinion. And that’s how I serve. I do my very best every day.”

What on earth did she say to that? She seemed frozen in place. She wasn’t breathing. It seemed as if her heart had stopped beating. His gaze met hers, and the honest force of it left her even more paralyzed. The magnitude of his gaze bored into hers like a touch, and she felt the stir of it in her soul, a place where she let no one in. How had he gotten past her defenses?

He grabbed more fries. “How about you?”

“M-me?”

“Sure. Why social work?”

“I didn’t tell you that.”

“I noticed your textbooks. Are you getting your degree in sociology and a masters in social work?”

“That’s the plan. I want to help children. There’s a lot of need out there.”

“There is.” His voice deepened with understanding. There was something about a powerful man who radiated more than just might, but heart, too. “I remember back in high school that you were on your own a lot.”

Keep the pain out of your words, she reminded herself. She wasn’t willing to confess about the loneliness and the fears of a child growing up the way she did. “I know I can help kids who are in a similar situation. I want to make a difference.”

“I’m sure you can.” He studied her, his hazel eyes intensified. It was as if he could see the places within her that no one could. “You were in foster care. Is that right?”

“On and off, depending on whether or not my mom was in jail for drugs or if my aunt’s bipolar disorder was under control.” She forced her gaze from his, breaking contact, but it was too late. She already felt so revealed. “I was lucky. I made it through all right. A lot of kids aren’t so fortunate.”

“You’ve done very well for yourself.”

“Not by myself.”

“By the grace of God?” Mitch waited as Kelly stared toward the far end of the park. There was nothing there, no people to watch, no traffic, nothing but a row of shrubs shivering slightly in the balmy evening breezes. He knew it wasn’t the foliage she saw, but the past.

He didn’t take for granted one second of his life, especially his childhood with two loving parents in a middle-class suburb. It was a start in life for which he was thankful. “About six years ago, I was training at Coronado when I got the word my dad had had a heart attack. I made it home in time to see him before he went into surgery. I think the good Lord was reminding my family just how lucky we are. We take nothing for granted, not anymore.”

“Wise move.”

He washed his emotions down with the ice-cold soda. “I’ve seen enough of the world to know that I wouldn’t be who I am without them. It’s a blessing to have parents like mine. Remember that favor I mentioned back in the store?”

She dragged a pair of fries through the ketchup container. “I thought this
dinner
was the favor.”

“Nope, this is my apology. For sticking my foot in my mouth and bringing up a subject that hurt you.”

“You couldn’t have known. It’s all right.” She froze for a moment, and sadness flashed in her eyes again. “What’s this favor?”

“I’ve been trying to find a gift for my mom. No luck. I’m clueless.”

“You don’t look clueless. And you can’t be serious. You look around, you find things and you buy them. It’s called shopping. That’s how you find a gift. Our store is full of wonderful gifts. Why didn’t you say something when you were in before?”

“I wanted to get a look at the jewelry store down the street first.”

“Jewelry is always good. We have some lovely gold crosses.”

“That’s what I got her last Christmas. She has everything else, a mother’s ring, more lockets than she can count. A charm bracelet so full of charms there’s no room for more. I need help.”

“You certainly need something.” He was way too charming for her own good, Kelly decided. And she had a hard time saying no to a worthy cause. “When do you need this gift?”

“Her birthday dinner is Sunday night.”

“I should have known. A last-minute gift.”

“Last minute? What do you mean?” He feigned mock insult. “This is Friday. I have two more days.”

Why wasn’t she surprised? Kelly took the last bite of her burger. “Okay, what are your parameters?”

“Something unique. Personal. It has to be fairly inexpensive. I’m thinking around a hundred dollars.”

“That’s not so inexpensive. Have you tried the mall?”

“You’re kidding, right? I avoid those at all costs.”

“Why is that?”

“No amount of military training can prepare a guy for the conditions that await him in a mall. I’m mall-phobic.”

She seriously doubted that. She couldn’t imagine Mitch being afraid of anything. “Mall-phobia. I
think
I read about that in my abnormal psychology class.”

“Funny. So, you’ll help me?”

“It’s the least I can do for a friend.”
Friend
being the operative word. The beep of her alarm made her jump. Had that much time gone by already? “I’ve got to go.”

“Duty calls.”

“Exactly. Did you want to come with me? We can go through the sales books together.”

“No time.” Disappointment settled like lead inside him. “I’ve got to be back by twenty hundred hours, and I’ve got over a two-hour drive ahead of me.”

Was it his imagination, or did she look disappointed? Good. Now was the time to set up date number two. “I’m coming back to town on Sunday. How about the two of us get together and put in some serious shopping time?”

“Sunday, then.” She folded her empty burger wrapper neatly.

He held the food sack open for her, waiting to toss in his wrapper, crumpled into a ball, after hers. “Where do you want me to pick you up?”

She grabbed one last fry from the tub before she twisted off the bench, graceful and lovely. She backed away, studying him through her long lashes with those big stormy-blue eyes. “The Gray Stone Church on the corner of Glenrose and Cherry Lane. Meet me there. Ten o’clock sharp.”

“Meet you there? No, I should pick you up.”

“It’s not a date, remember?”

Have it your way, pretty lady. He watched her jog away, her hair brushing the back of her shoulders and swinging in time with her gait.

Mitch could only stare, unable to move, waiting as she crossed the street. She was like a vision, awash with light. He remained vigilant until she reached the storefront and disappeared inside.

You’re heading to Afghanistan in six weeks, he thought, hardly noticing the crinkling sound the food sacks made when he bunched them and tossed them into the garbage can. What he did was dangerous. He’d learned the value of starting each day without regrets.

If he didn’t make the most of this second chance to get to know Kelly, wherever that path might lead, he’d regret it. Six months from now, he’d be shivering on some rock in the border mountains of Afghanistan or belly down on a dune in the Middle East, and he didn’t want to be wondering
what if
.

It wasn’t only exhaustion weighing her down as she climbed the flight of steps to her apartment. Not the late hour or the dark shadows that fell from the whispering poplars. She felt as if the past clung to her with a tenacious grip tonight, like the stars to the black velvet sky.

Kelly sorted through her key ring as she climbed the outside stairs that brought her to her third-story landing.

In the end, good things happen to good people. I believe that.
Katherine’s words. They were part of what troubled her tonight and made the shadows so dark, the quiet so deep. Those words haunted her last steps and followed her into the soft pool of illumination from the light over her door. She fitted her key into the deadbolt and turned it with a click. The metallic sound seemed to echo in the chambers of her heart.

Everyone she’d ever depended on had let her down, so it was hard to believe in good things. God never promised that life would be easy or fair. A heart can be broken too much. And she’d learned that every time a heart is broken, it is never the same again.

She withdrew the key and inserted it into the doorknob, turning the knob and shouldering open the door. Her heavy backpack clunked against the door as she stepped through the fall of porch light and into the dark quiet of the foyer.