Always and Forever (8 page)

“Right after the meal, we'll start with your parents' Christmas tree,” Gale said, halting at her bright red sports car. “And then we'll all go to the Taylors'. Mom Taylor has made dessert and egg nog for us.” Gale opened the
door and smiled. “I have your gift, too. Wait until you see it.”

He grinned, hearing the excitement in her voice. Kyle placed his luggage in the trunk of the car. “I already sent you your Christmas present.”

“It's tucked under the tree,” she said, “and I haven't opened it yet.”

“Better not have,” he teased. Kyle wanted to lean down and brush her smiling mouth with a kiss. The need to do it was nearly overwhelming. For so long, he'd hurt for Gale, for her loss. The wind swirled, moving her hair restlessly across her shoulders. Snowflakes nestled in the golden-brown strands, and Kyle found himself reaching out, gently removing them one at a time.

Gale stood very still, drowning in Kyle's nearness. When his mouth softened as he lightly touched her hair, she closed her eyes and remembered his gentleness, his ability to give to her. As she opened them, she took a chance and caught his hand in her own, squeezing it because she wanted his closeness.

“Come on, let's go home....”

“Together,” he agreed, returning the pressure.

* * *

It was nearly 1:00 a.m. before the Anderson household finally quieted down for the night. Kyle led Gale into the den. In front of them was a cheerful fire in the fireplace. Christmas music softly moved through the blue-carpeted room. The laughter, the sharing between the two families, had been nonstop. The Taylors had recovered from Mike's death, obviously happy that both Kyle and Gale were home for Christmas.

It was as if a miracle had occurred in the past year. Kyle remembered how devastated Mike's parents had been. Now, the Taylors were the way he'd always known them—
jovial and sharing. His own parents reminded him of joyous puppies, covering him with kisses, hugs and tears of gladness upon arrival. The decorating of both Christmas trees had been bonding, healing.

He sat on the couch facing the fire. Glancing up, he saw Gale studying him, a pensive look on her face. If nothing else, he was aware of how much he loved her. Did she love him? Or did she still see him as simply a friend? He patted the space next to him.

“Come on, sit with me.” How would she interpret his gesture? Probably as one of friendship. The fear he felt at trying to communicate that he loved her, had always loved her, scared him. If he put his arm around her shoulders, what would she do? If he tried to kiss her, what would be her reaction? Kyle was scared to death that Gale would turn away from his advances. The thought was shattering and one he couldn't overcome right now.

She smiled and sat next to him, her hand touching his shoulder. The uncertainty in his eyes kept her on edge. The last few hours of sharing and laughter with both families had been incredibly healing. Incredibly wonderful. Whenever she caught Kyle looking at her, an ache of longing had swept through her like a tidal wave. Gale could barely hang on to the words,
I Love you
. Did he still see her only as a responsibility? Someone to be loyal to because of Mike, because of a promise to always take care of her?

Her hand felt good on him, and Kyle tried to stop the need to return the gesture. Her eyes were filled with caring.

“There are so many good memories here,” she said quietly.

He laid his head back and stared at the fire. “Yeah.”

She wrapped her arms around her drawn-up legs, the full green skirt like a cloak. “You ate enough for three people,
Anderson. It's a wonder you don't look like a stuffed turkey.”

He grinned, wanting to reach across those few inches between them and put his arm around her. “Tart, aren't we?”

“No more than usual. You just haven't been around enough to see this side of me.”

Kyle sobered, lost in the vision of her upturned face glowing with happiness. “We really haven't spent much time together,” he agreed, feeling the need to remedy the situation, but not knowing quite how to proceed.

“No, we haven't,” Gale said softly. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “I just want you to know how much all those letters you wrote over the years helped me to keep my hope alive, to keep me laughing instead of crying. You shared so much of yourself with me, Kyle—all the silly, human things that were going on in your life while we both waited to hear about Mike.” Her fingers tightened on her legs. She wanted so badly to reach out and cover his hands. “Each letter was like life to me, Kyle. I lived to get them from you. Your words, how you saw life, helped me grapple with Mike possibly being gone.”

“But...all they were were things about my career and some stuff happening with my squadron. They weren't intimate or—”

“You don't understand, do you?” Gale gave him a gentle smile, realizing her words were having a powerful effect on him. “Your letters were honest, Kyle.”

“What?”

“You were vulnerable with me. Do you know how rare that is between two people? We're all so afraid of getting hurt, of getting wounded, that we protect ourselves. Your letters over the years bared your soul, how you thought, how you felt on such a wide range of topics that I got the
pleasure of knowing the man behind that macho jet jock image. Do you understand now?”

Kyle turned and faced her. “I think I do.” Or did he? Had she asked him to Sedona just to thank him in person for his years of loyalty to her? That thought was like a knife cutting him.

Gale saw the pain, the devastation apparent on his features. Did he love her? Or had the flame that burned fiercely between them dimmed and died over time? She was unsure of what she meant to Kyle, if anything, beyond a strong, enduring friendship. She wanted to gather Kyle into her arms, to tell him of her love for him, but the time wasn't right. Perhaps it would never be. Getting to her feet, she laid her hand on his shoulder.

“Listen, I think you need some time to think about what I said. Good night, Kyle.” She leaned down and brushed a kiss on his cheek. Would he interpret her action as merely friendly, or would he see that she was trying to show him that she wanted much more from him?

Gale saw the surprise flare in his eyes as she kissed him. Why was she being so hesitant when it was the last thing she wanted to be? Why didn't she have the courage to simply blurt out how she really felt?

Deep down inside, Gale knew she was afraid of Kyle's answer. Sometimes the fear of rejection made her less than courageous. Perhaps giving him little hints would help him come to realize what she was really trying to say to him. Perhaps.

Kyle couldn't speak, only feel and feel some more. Gale's hand on his shoulder was focusing his disjointed emotions. Finding his voice, he whispered, “I'll see you in the morning.” He wanted to grab her hand, drag her into his arms and kiss her hard and long. The question and
hesitation in her darkened eyes made him hesitate. Gale had kissed him. Okay, so it was a chaste kiss. But still, she'd kissed him! Hope flared strongly in his chest. He managed a slight smile, wanting to reach out and at least hold her hand, but he was too afraid. “Good night.”

Gale barely lifted her hand. “Good night....”

Kyle watched her leave, the den suddenly feeling empty without her warm presence. The house was dark and quiet. He walked through the living room to the large plate-glass window and looked out over the backyard toward the Taylors' house a mere three hundred yards away. The sky was clear and the stars were large and close, twinkling and dancing.

Thrusting his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he stared at the old sycamore tree standing proud and silent in the darkness. Gale's face lingered before him. Yes, he loved her. The past year had brought that fact squarely to him. He had to make a decision. He realized he'd been waiting, giving Gale time to recover from the news of Mike's death. Now it was clear that she was over her bereavement.

Fresh fear gripped him. Did she love him? Where did friendship like theirs end and a new, different kind of love begin?

Taking a deep breath, he moved away from the window and headed down the hall to his bedroom. The Taylors would be coming over at 10:00 a.m. to open Christmas gifts. And Gale would be with them. Suddenly, the need to see her, talk with her, was overwhelming. It didn't matter how fearful he was of her reaction to his admitting his love for her. He couldn't stand the excruciating wait, not knowing what her answer would be. There was so much to say. The morning couldn't come soon enough....

* * *

“Good morning,” Gale said, smiling up into Kyle's freshly shaved face. He'd cut himself, and she wanted to reach up and gently press a kiss to his jaw.

Hungrily, Kyle stared into her lovely forest-colored eyes dancing with incredible life. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered. She wore a pale peach blouse and cream-colored slacks. Her hair was a shining cloak across her shoulders. Kyle inhaled the flowery scent of her perfume. A tension, a delicious throbbing sensation, ensnared him.

He saw Gale's eyes widen and interpreted that as her also being aware of the sensual pulsation that had now sprung between them—just as it had the first time they'd met so many years ago. Hope swept through him, making him giddy, nervous.

Gale moved to one side as the two families trooped toward the den where the tree stood laden with gifts. She looked up, drowning in his gaze. Did she dare hope? Did she dare read what lingered in his eyes as love for her?

For the next half hour, gifts were opened amid laughter and joking. Kyle brought a gift from beneath the tree and sat down, handing it to Gale. Would she like it? Or would it make her unhappy. He couldn't be sure.

Gale shook the red-wrapped box. “It rattles!” she cried out to everyone, and then laughed with them.

Kyle managed a nervous smile and watched as she tore into the wrapping like a child. His heart beat harder as she opened the box.

Digging through a mass of crinkly red-and-green tissue paper, Gale found a small, oblong bulb. After finding two dozen more, she tilted her head, giving Kyle a questioning look. “Daffodil bulbs.” Tears filled her eyes. She held the bulbs reverently. Memory of their cardboard Christmas tree at Travis slammed through her. And so did the memory of a conversation they'd had about her daffodils and the fact
they meant a new beginning for her. Sniffling, she gently placed the bulbs back in the box.

“Here,” Kyle mumbled, putting his linen handkerchief in her hands. Embarrassed, he looked at his parents and the Taylors. There was understanding and sympathy in their expressions. Gale was beginning to cry in earnest and Kyle felt the need to get her alone.

“Uh, excuse us for a moment...” he said, rising, pulling Gale to her feet.

“Take her into the living room, honey,” his mother said.

Gently, Kyle put his arm around Gale's shoulders and led her to the other room where they'd have a modicum of privacy. Once there, he drew her to a halt, folding her against him. A groan escaped Kyle as she put her arms around his neck, nestling her cheek against his chest.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered, absently rubbing her shoulders. “I didn't mean to make you cry, Gale. Not now...God, not after everything you've gone through.”

She drew away just enough to see the anguish in his azure eyes. “I'm not sad,” she choked out.

“No?” His eyebrows moved upward. “I don't understand.”

Managing a small laugh, Gale shook her head. “Oh, Kyle, you're so sweet and good to me. You do things so unconsciously, not even realizing what you're doing.”

She was smiling through her tears and he framed her face, feeling the dampness beneath his hands. The urge to kiss those beads of moisture off her thick lashes haunted him. The need to kiss her was more painful than any physical agony he could recall. “Tell me what I did,” he said thickly, allowing himself to drown in gold-flecked eyes lustrous with invitation. The thread of hope he clung to grew stronger, and he dared to believe he saw love there.

“My Christmas gift to you is also a set of daffodil bulbs,
Kyle.” She dropped her eyelids and her voice grew strained. “After I got over grieving for Mike, I went back and reread all your letters. It was then that I realized I care very deeply for you...that we've always shared something special.” She licked her lips, tasting the salt on them, forcing herself to look up at him again. Kyle deserved her courage now, not her cowardice.

“You're honorable, Kyle. More than any man I've ever known. In the past year, I've realized that although I loved Mike, there was something you and I shared, too. There was a lot of caring in your letters to me. How many men would have written at all, much less as much as you did? Not many, Kyle.”

Gently, he removed the last of her tears with his thumbs. “I didn't want to interfere, Gale.” He dragged in a deep breath. “I knew you loved Mike. What I felt...how I felt about you wasn't important.”

She took a huge risk, sliding her hand across his cheek. “You did the next best thing, you took care of me in his absence.” Her voice grew tender. “I gave you daffodil bulbs to tell you in a silent sort of way that I want you back in my life, I want to share it with you in a new, better way. That is...if you want to....”

He stood there thunderstruck, not believing what he was hearing. Gale stood unsurely in his arms, her eyes giving away her anxiety, her fear that he would reject her brave honesty. A tremble passed through him and he closed his eyes. “My God.”

“Kyle?”

He opened his eyes and met her gaze. She had called his name so softly, a plea to him to answer her admission. Her lips were wet with tears, but they parted, begging him to kiss her. How long had he wanted to? The ache intensified
within him, and it felt as if his heart were going to be torn apart. Kyle cradled her face with his hands.

Gale stood there, waiting in the silence. Just to touch his mouth, to feel the power and tenderness of Kyle as a man was nearly too much. A fine trembling flowed through her as the world slowed to a halt. She saw hunger in every line of his face, in the stormy blue of his hooded eyes.