Catch a Falling Star (37 page)

Leaving her sister standing just inside the door, Kendall dragged Sully to her bedroom. While there, she took the time to slip out of her wet suit, towel off, and change into dry clothes. Jeans. A fuchsia-banded wrap top. A pair of white sandals. Nothing as fashionable as Bekah. Then she finger-combed her hair. Sully resisted being locked in her bedroom. But she couldn't handle her disobedient dog and her sister at the same time.

“Be quiet. I'll give you three dog treats if you be quiet. And a long walk . . . we'll both need it.”

As she advanced down the hall to the living space, she breathed a short prayer. “Give me wisdom, God. Peace. The right words.”

Kendall wasn't stupid—she knew what her sister wanted.

“So, Beks, I don't recall you mentioning a visit.” Kendall went to the compact but efficient kitchen and began prepping her coffee machine. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Sounds good.” Bekah followed her, leaning against the archway. “Ryan had a business trip and I decided to tag along. See the sights. Drop in on my big sister.”

“Really?”

“Oh, don't worry. We're staying in separate rooms.” Bekah rolled her eyes. “Not. But what Mom doesn't know . . .”

Please. She did not need to know the details of her sister's relationship.

“So, how are you doing?” Kendall filled the automatic coffeemaker with water and then flipped the switch on the machine
before opening the see-through glass cabinet door and removing two pottery mugs.

“Good. Classes are winding down. I'll be so glad for the summer break. It's hard to focus on planning the wedding while I'm taking classes.”

Kendall set the mugs on the small wooden table, adding a couple of teaspoons and a pair of cloth napkins. “So, has Ryan proposed?”

“Do you see a ring on my finger, Kendall?” Bekah lifted her left hand, waggling her slender fingers.

Kendall looked over her shoulder. No. No ring.

“That's why I'm here. I wanted to see if you'd come to your senses about giving me Mina's ring.”

Well, there was nothing like getting right to the point. No need to wait for coffee. Or to pretend she wanted to spend time with Kendall.

“Ryan and I want to have a November wedding. But he can't propose without a ring—Mina's ring.”

Kendall faced her sister, leaning her hip against the counter. “We've talked about this before, Beks. You
want
Mina's ring. You don't need it. Surely Ryan can afford to buy you a ring.”

“Doesn't tradition mean anything to you, Kendall? Mina would never have left the ring to you except that you were always her favorite—always Dad's favorite.”

“What do you know about my relationship with Mina? Or my relationship with Dad—”

“At least you had a relationship with them.” Bekah flung the words across the room. “I don't even remember Mina. And Dad died when I was eight. You had ten more years with him than I did, Kendall.
Ten.
And he was always watching out for you, being so careful of you because of your asthma. Sometimes I lay awake in bed at night and wondered why you had
asthma, and I didn't. I mean, how was I supposed to get Dad's attention?”

Kendall could only hope her mouth wasn't hanging open. Bekah
envied
her because she grew up struggling with asthma? As if days spent in the hospital were trips to Disneyland? As if not being able to go out for soccer or softball or even sing in the choir made for wonderful school memories? As if Kendall would have chosen to spend all those weekends in the garage with her dad instead of going out on dates?

Well . . . she would never give up those hours with her father. Back then there had been times when she wished the phone would ring. Wished she could erase the memory of the homecoming dance fiasco. But she tucked the memories of conversations with her dad, his laugh, his approving “Good job, Ken-girl” in her heart.

The sound of Bekah's shoes tapping against the cement floor jerked Kendall back to the present. Her sister grabbed a mug from the table and went to pour herself a cup of coffee. Apparently any heart-to-heart conversation was over.

“Kendall, stop being so stubborn. That ring is just sitting in the box somewhere—probably among your socks or underwear. Do you remember how old you are? That you've been all about your career for years?”

“Just because I'm not married now doesn't mean I won't get married—”

“We're not kids anymore, Kendall. Wishing doesn't make things so.” Bekah found the sugar bowl and dumped a heaping spoonful of sugar into her coffee. “The reality is, I'm getting married. You're not. And that's the way it will probably stay. Me married. You single.”

It didn't help that Kendall had stared down the reality for the last few days. It hadn't budged. She was single. And probably
would stay single. Heath had played her. And Griffin . . . well, Griffin didn't love her. He liked her enough to confide in her. To kiss her senseless. But he didn't want to risk his heart with her. The two men's actions pummeled her heart. Would she curl up in a ball and die? No. But she didn't know when she would be ready to trust a man again.

If ever.

Kendall straightened her shoulders. “You're right, Bekah.”

“I told Ryan that you're being—I . . . I am?” Her sister, who was ready to continue fighting for Mina's ring, stumbled into stunned silence.

“Yes. You are.” Kendall flexed her hands. Open. Shut. Open. “Wait here.”

As she exited the kitchen, she willed herself to stay focused. She wasn't doing this for real, was she? No, she wasn't.

Any minute now, she'd turn around. Go back to the kitchen. Tell Bekah she was happy for her, really she was, but she wouldn't,
couldn't,
give her Mina's ring. Kendall counted her steps to her room. She opened the door, ignoring Sully lounging on her bed with an
Uh-oh, you caught me
look on his furry face. She went to her dresser—not her underwear drawer—and retrieved the jeweler's box from where it sat among a pile of necklaces and bracelets. Sitting on her bed, she cupped the box in the palm of her hand.

She didn't need to flip back the lid. She had memorized the details of the ring. Every swirl and curve of the filigree design. The way the depths of the ruby glowed warm with promise when exposed to sunlight. How the white-gold band was worn, marked by the passage of time, as if carrying the memories of each day it had been on her Mina's hand.

She covered the box with her other hand, holding it close to her heart. Giving the ring to Bekah felt like she was breaking
a promise . . . a promise she made to herself years and years ago. She'd done her best to be something, be someone valuable. Someone worth marrying.

And she was.

The truth stole her breath away.

Heath used her—but that didn't mean she didn't deserve a real relationship.

Griffin didn't love her . . . enough—but that didn't mean she wasn't worth loving.

She needed the right perspective on all those fairy tales Mina used to read to her. She needed the truth.

What if the prince had never shown up to rescue the princess from the castle, to release her from the spell?

The princess would have still been a princess.

She would have still been worth rescuing.

It wasn't the prince who made the princess valuable.

It was
who she was all along.

For the first time in years, she remembered what Mina always said when she finished reading a fairy tale.

“You can live a fairy tale, too.”

“How, Mina?”

“Listen to this Bible verse and tell me if it doesn't sound just like a fairy tale: ‘For he rescued us from the domain of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son.' ”

“It does. It does.”

“The wonderful thing is, Kendall, this story is true. For you. For me.”

She'd already been chosen—already been worth rescuing. All Kendall had to decide was whom she was going to believe: the writer of a fairy tale? Or her Creator?

Kendall pressed a kiss to the faded velvet covering the jeweler's box.

Time to let go of trying to write her own life story. Time to embrace the life she'd been given. No, the life she'd made for herself. The life she'd been blessed with.

Time to let go of Mina's ring.

When she walked back out to the living room, Bekah faced away from her, looking out the windows at Pikes Peak.

“I thought you were crazy to combine your loft with your office.” Bekah spoke over her shoulder.

“O-kay.” Kendall waited, not sure how to respond.

“But I have to admit, this view is spectacular. And I love how open everything is.”

“Thanks.” She came and stood next to her sister. Offered her the box. “Here you go.”

Bekah gasped. Bounced on her feet so that Kendall reached over and removed the mug from her sister's hands and replaced it with the jeweler's box.

She watched as her sister opened the box and did a happy jig in a circle. “Oh . . . oh . . . oh. It's as beautiful as I remember.”

Kendall held the mug up high in the air as Bekah leaned in for a hug. “Hot coffee, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Bekah giggled, stepped back, and then slipped the ring on her finger.

That hurt a little.

“Look. Isn't it perfect?” Bekah held her hand up for Kendall to admire.

Kendall swallowed the lump forming in her throat. No tears. Not now. “Yes. It's perfect for you.”

“Ryan told me that you'd never give up the ring. But I told him I'd be able to convince you.” Bekah twisted her hand back and forth. “I can't wait to show him.”

“Well, why wait? You two should celebrate. Maybe start planning the wedding.”

Within ten minutes, Bekah was gone. Mission accomplished.

Kendall walked back to her room, letting Sully out. She walked over to the bookcase, looking at the shelf filled with the fairy tales.

Maybe it was time to do something with those, too.

“I
t's not official, but it might as well be.”

Griffin sat across from Doug, testing the words as he said them out loud. “The flight surgeon who examined me said, and I quote, ‘Don't plan on flying anytime soon.' ”

He'd spent the last week back at the School of Aerospace Medicine in Texas having another medical evaluation. When the physician asked if he was still experiencing vertigo, he answered honestly—knowing how saying yes would affect the medical board's decision. He was tempted to call Kendall, talk it all out with the only doctor he ever considered a friend.

Or did he just want to hear her voice again? Recapture the comfort he'd felt when she held him after he told her about the plane crash?

He didn't try to figure out the real reason why he stared at his phone, debating whether to call Kendall Haynes or not. Because, in the end, he tucked the phone away, along with that desire.

Once he got back to Colorado, he drove straight from the airport to his former sponsor's house without bothering to call. With Ian back in Florida with the Jamisons, there was no reason to go home. No one to go home to. Griffin now sat outside on Doug's back deck, a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade chilling his hand. If he wasn't facing the end of his career, he would have enjoyed the view of Doug's xeriscaped backyard, light on the grass and heavy on rocks and gravel and plants that didn't require a lot of water.

“So. How are you feeling?” Doug settled into the bright yellow Adirondack chair next to him, placing a plate of sliced watermelon on the matching wooden table between the two chairs. “Relieved to finally know where you stand?”

Relieved?

“I'm resigned. I'll do this assignment and retire. Figure out what I do after that.” Griffin tasted the lemonade, the sweet-sour tang reminiscent of his life—although right now his future had most definitely soured.

“Might as well say what you're thinking. God knows. Care to share with me?”

“Why did God say no to this? I'm a pilot. It's all I've trained for—all I've done.” Griffin stood and walked across the deck, turning to lean against the wooden railing and look at his friend. “This decision—my still having vertigo—doesn't make sense.”

“Have you ever considered God was using the vertigo to get your attention, maybe even to redirect your life?”

“It's vertigo—not some sort of sign-toting angel.”

“Agreed. But God can use anything—even vertigo—to get your attention.”

Griffin considered this. “I'm listening.”

“I agree with you that it doesn't make sense that you're not
flying—and that you may not fly again. But you've done everything you can to stay in the cockpit, including hide the vertigo in the first place.” Doug stood and came to stand next to him. “For some reason God closed the door on flying. The question is, are you willing to look around and see what door is open?”