At Home in His Heart (13 page)

“You were afraid,” he repeated at long last.

Sensing him gazing down at her, she forced a nervous laugh. “I know it sounds silly, but I can admit it now. I was terrified after Keith and I got married and he left me here alone.”

“Did he know that?” An unexpected harshness grazed his tone.

“I knew it would seem silly, so I came up with just about every reason under the sun why he needed to get me out of here—except that one.”

“It’s not silly to be scared of something that might be worth being scared about. You should have told him.”

“He’d have laughed.”

“I don’t think he’d have laughed.”

“No? But you probably would have if he’d have told you.

Be honest, you’d have thought I was a big baby making a big deal about nothing.”

He seemed to be mulling that one over in his mind. Of course he’d have laughed. Would have used it as ammunition against her. To drive a wedge between her and Keith.

“You still get scared at night?”

His question surprised her. “Sometimes.”

Silence hung between them except for the gravel crunching under their feet.

“I can get some motion lights set up at your place if you want me to. You know, the kind that come on if someone walks by? Just put it on your checklist and it’s as good as done.”

“So every time a skunk strolls past, a spotlight catches him in the act? Thanks, but I’m starting to appreciate the starry skies and the quiet nights.”

Up the road headlights punctured the darkness, and in unspoken unison they dropped each other’s hand as a rumbling diesel pickup barreled past, illuminating them in a blinding flash.

She took a relieved breath. Good. That was better.

But she hadn’t taken half a dozen steps, her eyes still adjusting once more to the darkness, when his big hand caught hers again.

“I
don’t want you to be afraid, Sandi.”

He gave the soft fingers tucked in his a gentle squeeze. He wouldn’t allow it. Not if there was anything he could do about it.

Sandi had been scared.

That’s why she’d nagged Keith about moving. About relocating to a bigger community. Closer to her family in Missouri. Not because she was a spoiled, bossy brat, but because she was scared. When Keith had mentioned his concerns about his bride’s objections to Canyon Springs, Bryce told his buddy in no uncertain terms he shouldn’t let her push him around, that she’d married him for better or for worse. Needed to learn who wore the pants in the family. She should stop her whining and stay put right where he’d left her.

But she’d been scared.

What a world-class jerk I’ve been, Lord.

She’d been pregnant that first year, too. In a town filled with strangers. Far from family. The situation probably hadn’t improved much even when Gina came along, but she hadn’t wanted to admit her fear. Didn’t want Keith—
and his best buddy
—to think her silly.

“Thank you again, Bryce, for seeing us home.”

Her soft voice interrupted his self-condemnation as she slipped her hand from his, leaving his own feeling empty. Bereft. But they’d already come to the driveway of her fenced-in yard, and she was right. It was pitch-dark out here.

“I can drive you back to town,” she offered.

“Thanks, but you need to get Gina to bed. I wasn’t making it up when I said I need the exercise. I’m trying to keep in shape for firefighter quals. I’m wearing tennies tonight, so I’ll jog back.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

They stood for an awkward moment, as if both waiting for the other to say something more. Then she led the way up the short drive to the bottom of the front deck’s steps.

“I can take my sleepyhead daughter now.”

Loath to turn loose of the sweet, warm weight cradled in his arms, he nodded toward the door. “Let me get her up the stairs for you.”

Sandi moved ahead of him to unlock the entrance, then turned toward him once again.

“I enjoyed our walk, Sandi.”

“Me, too.”

Could she hear his heart pounding? Sense his nervousness? This had all the makings of first-date ill-at-ease goodbyes. He couldn’t see the details of her face, her expression, in the tree-shadowed dimness, but only an idiot wouldn’t have been aware of the voltage crackling between them.

He leaned down…and slipped Gina into her arms. Straightened up and stepped away.

“So, Sandi,” he said, attempting to bring his pulse rate back into the normal range. He
would
have to go and notice how good she smelled when he bent to deposit Gina into her embrace. “What are you still doing here? In Canyon Springs?”

He heard a quick intake of breath. Then after a long moment
her words came softly. “I’m here because it’s what Keith wanted.”

“But it wasn’t what you wanted.”

“No. Not at the beginning. But this is where he wanted to raise Gina. And it’s where I hope, in some small way, to honor him in a community he loved.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I haven’t told anyone else.” She paused again, as if debating what she intended to share next. “But I’m determined to convince the historical society to turn that back bedroom, the one we use for storage, into an exhibit to honor local military veterans. And to get them to name it in memory of Keith. I’ve been saving for quality display cases for years, hoping that will nudge them in the right direction.”

An invisible hand socked him in the gut.

Great. Just great.

But right now didn’t seem like the time to tell her that wasn’t going to happen.

“That’s very noble, Sandi.”

“Noble? No. It’s the least I can do for Keith. For his mom.” Gina stirred in her arms. “I guess I’d better get her inside. Good night, Bryce. And thank you again for seeing us home.”

“My pleasure.” He tipped his hat as he held the door open for her. Saw her safely inside.

When she closed it and he heard the dead bolt slide home, he whipped off his hat, trotted down the wooden steps—and took off running.

Had the jog back to town enabled Bryce to sleep any better than she had?

Disgruntled, her insides still quaking like an aspen leaf, Sandi pulled a wicker picnic basket—a much-used wedding present—from a shelf in the hall closet and carried it to the kitchen table. At church that morning the Diaz family had
invited her and Gina to join them for a cookout early this evening—to which she’d agreed only after making sure a certain someone hadn’t been invited, as well.

Tomorrow was the fifth anniversary of Keith’s death. Fourth of July. No doubt the tenderhearted Meg remembered and wanted to make certain she had something to do to keep her mind occupied. Along the same lines, LeAnne’s kids had insisted their mother spend the holiday weekend with them in the Valley.

She shook her head. Were they a pitiful pair or what?

A guilty pang stung her conscience. She hadn’t been thinking of Keith today, but Bryce. Not remembering how Keith had kissed her, but wondering what it might be like to kiss a certain big, bearded army sergeant.

To her annoyance, she’d tossed and turned for hours last night. Relived over and over what she’d said, what he’d said, attempted to reconstruct the walk home from start to finish. What was she anyway? Sixteen?

She pulled from the refrigerator a sealed container of the now-chilled macaroni salad she’d made earlier that afternoon. Wrapped it securely in a tea towel so it wouldn’t sweat, and slipped it into the oversize basket. A jar of dill spears followed. A container of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Woven paper plate holders. A bag of potato chips.

Should she stop by Wyatt’s Grocery for a jug of juice for the kids?

Her mind unwillingly tracked once again to last evening. Had Bryce taken her hand prior to or after she told him about being afraid in Canyon Springs? If it was after, his reaching out to her meant he only felt sorry for her. No, wait. Didn’t he take her hand before that? Even before the speeding truck came along? She’d been so shocked at his boldness, so confused, so tingling all over that her brain had gone into meltdown mode, muddling the minutes between town and the trailer.

But one thing that wasn’t muddled was the memory of him as they reached the trailer door. Him holding Gina. Standing too close. Bending down toward her. How certain she’d been that he intended to kiss her—and she’d had no intention of resisting.

Had she totally lost her mind?

Of course the man had no intention of kissing her. She had to get hold of herself. Stop indulging in daydreams. She didn’t need a man in her life right now. And certainly not Bryce Harding. In fact, in the years since Keith’s death, not once had she become romantically involved.

Hadn’t dated. Not one single time.

Always begged off, had other plans. Friends cajoled and plotted to set her up with their male friends, but she managed to—gracefully for the most part—decline. But she couldn’t tell anyone the truth—that she didn’t deserve another chance at a happily ever after. Or why. She was too ashamed to confess her despicably immature behavior to anyone but God. Confess how Keith had carried to the grave her parting words as his last memory of her.

She had no business ruining another man’s life, potentially hurting him as she had Keith. Not even the life of a man like Bryce who’d done his best to ruin hers.

But oh, those twinkling brown eyes…

“Hey, you! Big ugly dude!”

Bryce jerked his head up from where he bent over his fishing boat, securing it to the trailer after an afternoon of fishing at Casey Lake.

Bumping back his Western hat with a wrist, he scanned the immediate area and beyond, trying to pinpoint the voice. Quite a few people out on a holiday weekend. None seemed to be paying attention to him.

“Yeah, you!” the voice came again. “Get yourself over here and join us for burgers.”

Then Bryce spotted Joe Diaz manning a grill back in the shadows of a stand of ponderosa pines. Meg was busy arranging picnic items on the open tailgate of their pickup. He grinned and returned a wave.

He didn’t want to horn in on a family outing but, as hungry as he was and with Grandma Mae dining with one of her friends tonight, Joe wouldn’t have to ask him twice.

He finished securing the boat, then got in his SUV and pulled both into a space reserved for boat trailers. He’d no more than set foot out of the pickup when seemingly out of nowhere a pigtailed little girl launched herself at him. “Uncle Bryce!”

Instinctively, his eyes sought out her mother.

And there she was. Strolling from the far side of the parking lot with a wicker picnic basket over her arm, a breeze ruffling her hair.

His heartbeat quickened as he picked up Gina and headed toward the picnic area. Would Sandi approach him first? Wait for him to approach her? What would she be thinking, expecting, after he’d grabbed hold of her hand last night? Did she even realize how close she’d come to getting kissed?

How he hated leaving her alone at that trailer last night. But the way the sparks were flying between them, New Bryce knew he didn’t dare set foot through the door to carry Gina to her room.

He’d run all the way back to Gran’s. Hard. If anyone had seen him, they’d have suspected bloodhounds on his heels. But even after that exertion, he’d hardly slept, the reality of his misconceptions about Sandi’s motivations slamming home again and again.

She’d been scared.

God, please forgive me for being so callous. And for the way I’m starting to feel about Keith’s wife.

He had no business feeling
anything
for his buddy’s bride beyond brotherly concern. But by the time they’d reached her place last night, her hand tucked in his, he’d wanted to take her in his arms. Hold her close. Protect her.

Gina toyed with his T-shirt collar, bringing him back to the present, her eyes gazing confidently into his. “Mommy says you carried me all the way home.”

“I did at that.”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember. I was sleeping.”

“Yeah, you were.”

When they reached the picnic table she gave him a hug, then wiggled until he set her back on the ground. Meg and Joe smiled at him. Actually, Joe smirked. Had he heard the Uncle Bryce thing? But Sandi, pretty in a pink top and figure-skimming jeans, focused on unpacking the picnic basket at the far end of the table.

“Hey, Sandi.”

She looked up. Smiled. Mouthed a “hi” and returned to her work.

He stood awkwardly for a moment, then sat down at the opposite end of the table with Davy, who animatedly related all the things he’d done that day. Gina joined them and put in her two cents’ worth. But although he listened and responded, with his fine-tuned internal radar and the corner of his eye, he kept track of Sandi’s every move.

Playing it cool, was she?

But it was no wonder she thought it better to pretend he didn’t exist. He shouldn’t have taken her hand last night. A simple “be careful there” when she stumbled would have sufficed. But no, he liked the feeling of her soft fingers clasped in his. Made him feel strong and protective. So he’d kept her hand there, even when she’d been in no danger.

But like it or not, at the first opportunity he’d tell her about his plans for the museum. Wouldn’t put it off any longer. He’d probably get kicked in the shin, but at least he’d get it over with and Grandma would stop her nagging.

Relieved when Joe’s “come and get it” drew everyone to the tailgate sideboard, he held back, waiting for the kids and gals to serve themselves first. Then when they’d been seated under the trees, he moseyed on over to fill his own plate.

“Sooo, what’s up with you and Sandi?” Joe joined him at the pickup’s tailgate, his voice low.

“What do you mean? Because Gina calls me Uncle Bryce? No big deal. I told her I was like a brother to her dad. That means an uncle in six-year-old logic.”

“No, there’s more to it than that. I mean you’re looking at Sandi when she’s not looking and she’s looking at you when you’re not looking. Gotta be something going on.”

Was
she checking him out when he wasn’t looking? “Eyes gotta go someplace, don’t they?”

“Right.” Joe unfolded the aluminum foil-wrapped burgers and speared several with a fork. “She’s a nice gal. Pretty lady.”

“Suppose so.”

Joe snorted, then arranged tomato and lettuce on low-fat-mayo-slathered buns. “Listen to you. Like you think I believe you haven’t noticed she’s a looker? Not buyin’ that one. Stop hanging out here like a hog at a trough and get yourself on over there. Strike up a conversation.”

Hog at a trough? Joe should talk. He’d already loaded up three burgers to Bryce’s two.

“Come on, Joe. Knock it off. She was my best friend’s wife. Tomorrow it will be five years since he was killed in action.”

“So? She’s nobody’s wife now, is she?” Joe turned to ensure his back was to the others, his voice still low. “Look, I’m going to tell you the same thing Dad told me last year when I was dragging my feet about Meg.”

“You dragged your feet with a woman like Meg?” He glanced over at the sassy brunette chatting with Sandi, then shot Joe a disbelieving look. “You’re that dense, and you have the gall to think you can coach me about
my
love life?”

Joe grimaced. “Look, it’s a long story. But it came down to my dad flat out telling me I was as dumb as a rock if I didn’t move in before some other guy did. And I’m telling you the same thing. God gave you a brain, use it.”

“Nice theory, but there’s a slight problem.”

“I know. I’m looking at him.”

“Funny.” He took a deep breath and helped himself to the macaroni salad. “It’s just this—I didn’t want Keith to marry her.”

“Ohhh,” Joe groaned softly. “Now I get it. A love triangle. You both liked her and she picked him.”

“No, I mean I didn’t like her. At all. And I tried to talk him out of marrying her for that same reason.”

“Does she know that?”

“That’s part of the problem.”

Joe gave a low whistle. “Now that
is
a problem.”