Escape to Morning (21 page)

Oh
. She was waiting for God's choice. Okay, another good “just friends” reminder from the heavens. Words barely made it out of his dry throat. “So, you mentioned something about Sarah being on an SAR team with you?”

Nancy emerged with the tea. Dani unwrapped her tea bag and dipped it into the hot water, unfazed—or maybe relieved— at his change in topics. “Yeah. A few years ago Sarah; her cousin Conner Young, a former Green Beret; my former roommate, Andee; Conner's captain, Jim Micah; and I formed this loose travel group.”

She knew Jim Micah? And Conner Young? What kind of cruel small world was this? The one woman he wanted to start a friendship with as a born-again God's man was friends with two former Green Beret teammates who know the old Will. Wild Will. He kept his smile pasted on but couldn't ignore the feeling that God had just sliced him through with a sickle.

“We all like to cave and climb and canoe, so we'd get together when they were stateside for some outdoor R & R. But of course type A alpha male Jim Micah can't breathe without some sort of life purpose, so he decided that we should use our skills to become a freelance SAR team. Since Sarah and I are rescue personnel by career choice, it seemed a natural fit. He's thinking of turning professional. We haven't done much so far, but I like the idea.” She ran her fingers over her cup rim. She had pretty fingers, with blunt, clean nails that fit with her no-nonsense, what-you-see-is-what-you-get personality. They nearly hypnotized him out of the panic that had coiled in his stomach.

So much for keeping his little secret. Or for her thinking he might be the kind of guy she could trust. True, Micah and Conner didn't know him now—not since Lew died and Will had asked God to change him from the inside out. In fact, he'd seen little of Iceman and Sparks since the first Gulf War. Still, the reputation he'd seared into their minds would compel them to warn Dani to run—and fast.

God certainly used creative ways to answer Will's prayers to help him keep this thing
just friends
. He felt like putting his hands over his head and moaning.

Thankfully, Dani didn't seem to notice the guy having an emotional meltdown across the table from her as she continued. “In little towns like Moose Bend, the SAR team tends to be part of the sheriff 's department. They don't have much in the way of equipment or even advanced training. When someone is lost, like this girl, we have to move quickly, without a lot of time for detailed instruction. That's where Team Hope comes in. All of us are trained, in one form or another, in wilderness rescues, map reading, victim psychology, and EMT skills. We can assess a situation and move in a flash.

“And Conner, our tech expert, has us hooked up with the latest in gear and resources. He just purchased a computer program that allows us to input the pertinent information— terrain, size and weight and age of the victim, weather conditions, and even psychological factors—and receive a relatively accurate SAR plan.”

Yeah, that sounded like Conner. Mr. Gadget. “We could have used some of that equipment looking for this girl,” Will said.

Except what if the victim didn't want to be found?

Sorrow washed across Dani's pretty face. “Think she's still out there?”

He looked down at his fork. “Not sure. I stopped by the sheriff 's office. Evidently they have a report of a teenage girl getting picked up south of here.” He gave a nonchalant shrug, thankful that at least, in this, he told the truth.

“What?” For a second, Dani actually looked like she might jump from her chair, race over to the sheriff 's office to confirm his story.

“Whoa, calm down, speedy. You need some grub, and then we'll head over to the sheriff 's office.”

“How'd you know I was thinking that?”

He tapped his head. “Good reporters can read minds.”

“Ah. Right.” She shook her head, folding her napkin into squares. “I hope it's her.”

Yeah, he did too. But if Jeff called with bad news, Will planned to go back out with gear, including a flak jacket, his Colt Commando rifle, plenty of food, first aid, and a sat radio.

But definitely
without
Dani and company. Especially if that company included her army pals to detonate his cover. At least the one he'd constructed over his past.

Besides, the last thing he needed was an audience—or liability—if he also had to hunt down a couple of terrorists.

He'd miss Dani though. The sound of her rain suit swishing as she trailed her dog. The way the sun touched her smile. Those beautiful eyes as she tried to assess his real motives.

Either way, however, this meal would be the last moments they'd spend together. He'd take off, and when he returned, hopefully with the package in hand, he'd head back to Washington. To begin a new alias. And hopefully before she found out the kind of guy she'd let into her life.

Melancholy filled his throat.

“What if it's not her? Will you go back out after her?” Dani asked, her eyes on his, unflinching and difficult to lie to.

“I don't know,” he said. Yes!
Yes!
Wow, the woman should work for the CIA the way he longed to give her the truth. “She's more than a story now. I feel … responsible, in a way.”

She nodded, and a small smile touched her lips. “That's what I thought. You're very different from any reporter I've ever met, Will.”

“I am?” Oh, that sounded pitiful. Desperate. Hopeful. He tried not to wince as he tucked his heart, kicking and screaming, back into his chest. The old Will would be shaking his head in disgust.

Somehow that made him feel better.

Dani shrugged but gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Well, it's not like I've met many journalists, but the one that sticks in my mind left a horrible taste.”

“Ouch. What happened?”

Her smiled faded, and for a horrible second he thought he saw tears edge her eyes.

“You don't have to tell me,” he said softly. Now where did those words come from? He'd only been aching to hear this story since she'd let the door slam on their dinner date three days ago.

“No, I … want to.” She took a deep breath but didn't look at him. “I told you my sister was killed, right?”

He nodded slowly.

“She was killed in a tornado.” She shook her head. “It was my fault. I wanted to pretend we were running away from home—”

“All kids do that—”

She held up her hand. “Thanks, Will. But let me get through this.”

No. He didn't know why it hurt like a vise crushing his chest, but he feared the rest. Could actually taste the fear well up in his throat.

“I mentioned we lived on a farm. Well, we had acres and acres of corn, and I dragged Ashley through the fields, thinking we'd run into the road that edged our property. But I got lost. The field seemed endless. Hours later, there we were, completely turned around. And that's when it started to rain.”

“How old were you?” He noticed how tight his voice sounded and didn't care. He could see her as a little girl, cute blonde pigtails, her face pudgy and dirty, fear in her pretty eyes as cornstalks hovered over her. The image had the power to make his eyes burn.

“I was six.”

Six
. He blew out a breath.

She reached across the table, touching his hand with two fingers. “You're awfully sweet, you know that?”

He wasn't quite sure how to respond, especially when everything inside him wasn't about sweet. Had never been about sweet. He'd been about power, about pleasures about living life for the moment. None of that felt sweet. But then again, he'd never taken the time to really get to know a woman. To hear her deepest fears, her darkest nightmares. He'd bypassed the rewards of friendship for the here-today, gone-tomorrow pleasures. No, he wasn't sweet. He was a scoundrel. A
redeemed
scoundrel, yes, but the old desires didn't die with- out a daily to-the-death grapple. But maybe … maybe this was God's way?

He suddenly longed for God's way more than breath.

“Thanks.” He captured her hand with his and focused on the feeling of warmth as she continued.

“Anyway, I knew that something was wrong. The rain was so strong. And sideways. Ashley was crying, and I was so scared. I held her, shaking, wishing my mommy would find us. Then the storm swept over us. I let go of Ashley, dug a hole in the dirt, and covered my head. But she was frozen. Just
frozen
.”

For a split second Will could see the past in her eyes, the moment of sheer terror, hear the roar of the tornado, taste the rain and wind in his mouth.

“The tornado just swept her away. One second there; the next, gone.”

He went completely still.
Gone?
He wondered, perhaps, if his heart had stopped beating.

She brushed her thumb over his, and his pulse restarted.

“I sorta blacked out, probably from crying, and when I woke up, the field was torn up. Most of the corn was flattened, but some of it was still standing, broken or shredded. The earth had been furrowed up as if a giant had taken a finger and dragged it along the middle of the field.” She closed her eyes.

He wanted to do the same.

“I found Ashley about thirty feet away. She was still alive. I don't think the tornado passed right over us, just the peripheral winds, but they were enough to throw her. She was badly hurt and in lots of pain. I stayed with her all night, praying that God wouldn't forget us, that He'd send an angel to keep us safe. We were found the next morning.”

“But your sister had died,” he supplied, dreading that conclusion.

She nodded. “The thing is, I couldn't help but feel that if there had been SAR dogs out there, they would have found us. Even with the tornado, there was so much field left; it had been a hot day, and our scent would have been left in the soil. And if they had found her sooner—”

“She might have lived.” He felt moisture in his eyes and gritted his teeth. Dani met his gaze, and in it he saw trust. Precious, sweet trust. It swept through him like a fragrance, lifted him past the image of Dani holding her broken sister— or even the rather powerful impression of Dani in his arms— to a place of peace.

It had been ages since a woman trusted him like that.

Okay, maybe never.

Nancy appeared, holding their omelettes. She ranged a curious look between them, then quirked a smile.

Dani leaned back, letting Nancy place her order in front of her. Will used the moment to reel in his composure.

“Should I pray for our meal?” Dani said, a slight blush on her face, as if she had seen the emotions in his eyes.

He heard himself say, “No, I will.” Perhaps it was emotion, but for the first time in his life, he didn't have to fight to conjure up words to talk to God. It felt almost natural to say, “Lord, thank You for this time with Dani. Please bless this meal.”
Please bless this … friendship?
“And, Lord, watch over this missing girl wheverever she is … please bring her to safety.” He peeked at Dani, saw her nod, noticed her still puffy, red-streaked eyes. “Finally, please take care of Missy. Heal her, Lord, and comfort Dani.”

“Amen,” Dani said after his pause, and he saw her run a finger under her eyes. “Thanks, Will.”

“Yeah, amen,” Will said, feeling warm right to the center of his being. He dug into his omelette.

Dani took a few bites, then resumed her story. “After the storm, people started asking questions as to why two little girls were out in a field so far from home. And why my mother hadn't found us before the storm hit. A reporter in town started nosing around my family and accusing my mother of things in the category of irresponsible and reckless. It started a maelstrom of public opinion, waged mostly in the letters-to-the-editor column. But the battles behind the lines—in my world—were the worst. My father began to believe the letters, or … maybe not. Maybe he was so emotionally undone after losing Ashley that he had to blame someone. Grief had already hollowed my mom, and my dad's betrayal crushed her.” Dani poked her omelette but made no move to cut any more.

Will's food grew tasteless in his mouth. He put down his fork, pushed the plate away, all appetite obliterated. This was … well, not what he'd expected today. But it felt oddly endearing. Surrendering to the emotions inside him, he reached out and touched her arm. “What happened to your mom?”

Dani's eyes filled, and crystalline tears rushed over the edge. She wiped them away, gave him a tremulous smile. “You know, I thought I was over this.”

He said nothing.

“One day when I was at school, she closed the garage door and turned on the car.”

He closed his eyes, feeling pain wash through him.
Please, God, no. Don't let her say—

“I came home and found her.”

He groaned and took a deep breath, pushing past this sudden, crushing pain.

He opened his eyes and saw her staring down at her plate. He leaned forward, cupped her cheek with his hand. “I'm so,
so
sorry, Dani.” Sorry didn't even begin to describe his feelings, but he didn't know what else to say.

She glanced up, her eyes glistening. “Thanks, Will. I guess I haven't told too many people that story. But now you know why I'm so close to my dogs. And why I'm not fond of reporters.”

“I have this sudden urge to destroy my computer, maybe set the local paper on fire.” No, actually, if he were honest, his feelings ran more toward flooring it to Iowa and reinstituting the Old West tradition of public lynching. He swallowed a hot ball of fury. “No wonder you smacked me with your Maglite.”

She gave a one-sided, apologetic grin. “Misplaced anger.”

“If it would make you feel better, you can have a go at the other cheek.”

She giggled.

Oh, did that feel good. Like a soft blanket on his ravaged heart.

“Thanks, Will. You're a good friend.”