Heaven's Touch (9 page)

Everything seemed right, as if the Lord had brought her to her greatest happiness. The people surrounding her had behaved so wonderfully toward her. She hadn't seen the end coming.

“And after I came in third, my life changed and I learned exactly what mattered in life. And it wasn't a big sports endorsement or a contract with a network or being treated like someone important. Those people abandoned me, and my manager stole my money. I had nothing. Nothing, and a whole lot of bills to pay. I'm still paying off a part of the bankruptcy.”

She looked off into the distance, as if the view of the rugged mountains, so stunning and larger than life, could offer some solace. “My fiancé left me. I lost everything and came home in disgrace. Nobody really knows, not around here. I'm not hiding the truth—I just wanted to leave it behind.”

“I know how much your dreams meant to you.”

“I shouldn't have told you.” She withdrew her hand, breaking the connection between them and making it clear she didn't want his sympathy. She didn't need any act of comfort. “It seems like a long time ago in a world far, far away.”

He felt her sadness like his own. The loss of innocence. It must have been hard on her. “A lot of peo
ple who had lost everything might be bitter and broken. So, tell me how come you're more lovely and enchanting than ever?”

“You don't need to try to be charming to make me feel better.” Her eyes filled and she bolted forward, gathering up her duffel and lunch and milk carton in one graceful, rapid swoop. She was on her feet, swiping at the stray wisps of her hair as if they were the problem and not the tears threatening to fall. “I can't talk about this anymore. I've got to go—”

“Wait. I don't understand.” He stood, leaving his crutches behind to hobble toward her. “If I've upset you—”

“No.” She held up her hand to stop him. “I can't let you keep complimenting me like that, because then I'm simply going to appreciate you all the more, Ben McKaslin. You and I both agree we can't go back.” She slung the bag's strap over one shoulder and tucked her lunch sack away. “Keep the cookies. I guess I'll see you around.”

The last thing she wanted to do was open up her heart some more and let this man who'd done so well with his life see how she'd been so foolish. Well, she no longer pretended to be anything more than the Montana girl she was meant to be. It was how God had made her—it was the place He'd brought her back to. And it was here that she had a life that mattered.

It was a small life, sure, with no far-reaching scope, but it was hers and it was full of purpose.

She didn't know what Ben thought of her as she turned her back and walked away. She wanted to tell herself that his opinion didn't matter. That she didn't care. But then she'd be lying to herself, and that was something she never wanted to do again.

So she kept walking—forward, not back.

 

Throughout the day the same hard-edged, shaky feeling overtook her, as if she'd made a terrible mistake. It wasn't that she'd spoken of times she'd rather have kept to herself, because the burden of her mistake still troubled her. It was made five times worse that Ben knew.

Ben, who'd left her because he couldn't hold either of them back. Ben, whom she'd told out of hurt at his need for freedom that she had bigger and better dreams than marrying him. Ben knew how hard she'd worked and trained, how earnestly she believed a rural Montana girl who loved to dive could be like the athletes she saw on the old black-and-white TV.

He would never know how she'd still succeeded, and if she had little to show for it, then working earnestly for what she'd excelled at had somehow made her whole. She'd grabbed her dream, and it wasn't a gold medal. No one could take away what she'd earned. What she'd done. What she loved.

After the hours of public swim she stayed late, enjoying the lull before water aerobics, swim team practice and then the evening schedule. With the doors locked and Peggy in the office doing paperwork, Cadence was officially off the clock as she climbed the ladder.

The higher she ascended, the calmer it became. The slosh and gurgle of the pool water became a pleasant background noise. High up in the rafters the sound echoed like a hushed blessing. She breathed in the peace. The calm.

The platform's textured surface was dry and rough against her bare feet. For her, it was the closest thing to touching heaven as she curled her toes over the edge and stretched her arms overhead. The energy pulled through from the soles of her feet to the tips of her fingers. For one long moment she visualized the dive in her head before she pulled her arms down and sprang with just enough power.

Her feet left the platform, and she flew through the air toward the rafters in one perfect moment before gravity caught her, pulling her down to the smooth water below. She tucked without thought, bringing her nose toward her belly button and her arms to her knees.

Weightless and free, she somersaulted two full revolutions, gaining speed, weightless as she saw the water fast approaching through the tiny space between her pointed feet. She stretched out again, pure
joy, feeling her fingertips slice through the water, cool and refreshing as it welcomed her home, sluicing across her skin from forehead to toes. She heard the smallest splash and popped to the surface, smiling from the inside out.

Her life might be far from what she'd envisioned while training in this same pool when she was in junior high. The long hours. The grit and sacrifice and discipline. The injuries she'd come back from and the losses.

Oh, the losses. Her father's death. Her chance for happiness with Ben. The rejection by those she was closest to when she'd failed to bring fame and more money to them after the Atlanta Games. The man she'd loved with a pure and devoted heart—Tom—had walked away when he'd found out there were no millions. Not even pennies to rub together.

But she was content with her life so far, she thought as she climbed from the pool. Water dripping, she grabbed the metal rails and climbed into the rafters.

There were people with worse trials in their lives. Everyone had a bumpy path. It was part of life, for there was balance in all things. It was how God had made the universe in His infinite wisdom. Dark and light. Sadness and joy. Bitter and sweet.

She was proud to have been able to know the hardships, too, because it reminded her so well how gra
cious God truly was. She knew that for a fact as she turned around on the edge of the board, so she was standing on only the balls of her feet. Her arms were at her sides as she bounced and waited for just the right moment.

She left the platform, tumbling, falling. God had given her this blessing, this love of diving, to help get her through the down times, the hardships, those tough bumps in the road. To give her hope for the good things He had in store for her.

She was patient and she believed. As she broke the surface, kicking toward the ladder, she vowed she would never forget to count her blessings.

H
e couldn't get Cadence and her confession out of his mind. He tried everything—pitching in at the diner, grilling and cleaning and even whittling down Paige's “minor repairs needed” list, which kept him busy but wasn't demanding enough to keep his mind focused.

Thoughts of Cadence kept creeping in. So the older car, less expensive clothes and sack lunch were explained. Now he knew why she was here teaching swimming at the public pool for a pittance, when she could probably make so much more coaching or teaching diving.

But she'd come home to Montana because it was all she had. What she knew. To a lot of folks in these parts, it wasn't the material things that mattered, but heart and integrity. He respected her for her life and her choices. And her losses.

What kind of man would walk away from Cadence, whether she had money in the bank or not a penny to her name? Rage flashed red until it was all he could see. What kind of fiancé was he that he didn't protect her from people out to use her? Didn't hunt down her manager and demand every cent of her earnings back. What kind of man could stop loving Cadence?

Heaven knew he'd never been able to.

Which was why he needed to keep a wide berth between them. And why he needed to stop thinking of her every waking second of the day.

It didn't help that Amy had sweet-talked him into taking Westin to his daily lessons. If he bailed out, then it was up to Rachel, who had enough on her plate, since she lacked the capacity to say no to anyone. So there was no solution but to sit on the bleachers in the observation balcony and watch his nephew, because Westin had begged him to and he loved the little guy.

Watching Cadence for half an hour was tough going. It was impossible not to notice her. His gaze was drawn to her like the earth to the moon, and it was as if the old ties were still between them, the unexplainable emotional bond more powerful than gravity could ever be, when once she was the center of his world.

At least he had his answers. At least he knew what
had become of her, what had changed her. In his job he'd seen more than enough heartache and desperation and evil, and it saddened him that even a hint of that had touched her life. Angered him that anyone had dared to hurt her when she was like a wish come true, still loving and gentle and good after all she'd been through.

Long ago he'd feared that success—because he knew she would go far with her diving—would change her, would rip them apart if he stayed with her. He'd been so sure that a small-town Montana boy would not be good enough for her, when in fact, he was the one who'd done the changing. Not her.

It was an odd thing to see her teach swimming, the same as she'd done when she was a teenager needing money for her training. She still scrunched up her face and blew bubbles into the water with the kids. She clapped and congratulated and won the adoration of every one of her students. She still grabbed the wall, stretched out alongside them and kicked so they splashed as hard as they could.

The bitter man he'd become shamed him, but he endured the shame. Sitting on the top seat of the bleachers, hidden in the corner, he tried not to admit he wanted to love her. Who was he to love anyone? He had nothing to offer. He was terrible at relationships. There was no future between them. They'd already tested out that theory.

Frustration motivated him, and that was great for his training. He had started attending the scheduled evening lap swims and his leg was getting stronger. So he signed up to use the county gym, which was across the street from the pool building. He exerted himself until no thoughts of her could survive the fierce workout and his physical exhaustion.

Even then, when he slept, his mind would betray him and he'd see Cadence in his dreams, with the sunlight burnishing her dark hair, and as vibrant as a midsummer's day, laughing just for him. And it would affect him through the morning. He'd catch himself daydreaming of nothing…except the sound of her laughter.

“Hey, slacker.” Rachel peered at him through the pass-through window. “Where's the rest of table four's order?”

“Waiting for my expert cooking,” he quipped, trying to hide the fact that he'd lost track of what he was doing.

Rachel feigned scolding. “C'mon, for what we pay you, we want our money's worth.”

“I'm doing this for nothing.”

“Well, then we're getting what we're paying for.” She winked, her smile sweet as she turned at the sound of the bell above the front door. New customers to seat. “I'll be back.”

“I'll have the whole order up.”

“Promises, promises.”

He didn't mind pitching in where he could. Amy's fiancé was the temporary morning cook, but Ben had offered to work so Amy and Heath could spend a morning together. It had been Rachel's suggestion, of course, since she was the ever-thoughtful one. He could see her welcoming customers he didn't recognize—out-of-staters, by the looks of them, on a family vacation to Yellowstone. Or maybe up north at Glacier.

Glacier. Now, there was a place he hadn't been to in way too long. It was a shame his leg wasn't up to hiking, because he'd love nothing more when he took off his apron than to hoof it up into the wilderness. It was like a second home to him. Memories tugged at the closed rooms in his heart. Images of the countless overnight treks spent first with his dad, then on his own in the national parks. Which had helped him excel in his PJ training.

Survival school had been a snap—he'd been surviving in the wilderness since he was a boy. He missed it now—the crisp mountain forests, the fresh musical streams, the chalk of dirt beneath his boots and the breathtaking solitude. Maybe when his leg was stronger, before he flew back to Florida, he'd take a long hike.

He filled the plates and had them waiting by the time Rachel returned. She clipped in a new order
and thanked him as she loaded up. A movement through the window caught his attention.

Mr. Brisbane was ambling down the aisle, the first to arrive and the first to leave of the early-morning old-timers, and despite the time that had passed since the Second World War, he still walked with a military presence.

“Is there something I can do you for, Mr. Brisbane?”

“Next time you've got a free morning, drop by our table. The boys and I would like you to join us.” He snapped a salute and continued on his way.

Ben blinked. Bacon sizzled and sausages snapped and egg whites began to bubble, but he couldn't seem to move. Brisbane and his buddies hadn't invited anyone new into their group since…well, for as long as he could remember.

“Hey, Ace, you'd better let me take over.” Rachel was elbowing him out of the way and prying the spatula from his grip. “You look lost in thought. You wouldn't happen to be sad about not seeing a certain someone later this morning?”

Oh, he knew what she was up to. The best way to deal with her serious romantic view of the world was to head her off at the pass, before she could gain momentum on the downhill side. “I don't mind seeing Cadence a bit. It's good that we can be friendly after all these years.”

“Friendly, huh?”

“What else can there be, when I'm leaving in, what, a month? Less if I can get my leg up to par.” Speaking of which, his leg was killing him. He'd left his crutches up against the wall, thinking that it would be good for his leg to take weight for a few hours. A good idea, but his calf bones were complaining.

“You never know. Love is a tricky thing. She might want to actually put up with you this time.” Rachel elbowed him over. “Go on. Maybe you should pack up a nice muffin basket and take it over to the pool?”

“Why? Amy and Heath are going to be there. I don't want to barge into their time.”

“You should do it anyway. Friends do things like that all the time.”

“Sure they do.” He gave her ponytail a tug. “Trouble is, I got enough friends.”

“Well, maybe you do. But what about Cadence?”

She has enough, too, he thought as he grabbed his crutches and got weight off his leg. He remembered how she'd had her softball team friends. She didn't need him. She didn't even want him. The fact that she'd practically run off from the bench outside the pool ought to be a clue.

He told himself that Rachel was simply being Rachel. She had a rosy view of the world, and he wasn't going to take her observation for real, because she'd seen Cadence at the pizza place, where she'd been surrounded by friends. She wasn't
lonely. If anything, she was clearly uncomfortable around him—maybe as uncomfortable as he was around her.

It wasn't until he was coming out of the gym the next afternoon and negotiating the front steps with only one crutch that he realized what he had to do.

Sunlight glittered on the high windows of the pool building across the wide expanse of grassy lawn, drawing his gaze. And, miraculously, through the fingers of sunlight shining into his eyes, he saw Cadence somersaulting in thin air.

For one shining moment she remained suspended in his sight, and then fell away as if riding a sunny beam.

He had his answer. He needed whatever those loose ends were between them tied up. He wanted the real story this time. The real reason she dived with perfection in a county pool and lived simply, instead of off somewhere using her expertise and her talent.

Since he was a man of action, he ditched his bag in his truck and prayed the pool's front doors were unlocked during off-hours. Of course they weren't, but he had a plan B. He was a PJ—he always had a plan.

 

Cadence looked over the top of her book to the clock on the corner of the crowded mantel. No wonder her stomach was growling. It was about time to forage for supper. The quiet piano music humming from the inexpensive CD player added serenity as she
marked her page. She set the book on the rickety coffee table and climbed to her bare feet.

The town house was awfully quiet. She searched through the handful of movies she'd rented at a bargain price and popped an old favorite into the VCR. While Ingrid Bergman filled the screen, Cadence circled around the breakfast bar to the kitchen trying to figure out what she felt like eating. Tonight she had softball practice, and after that straight to bed, because she opened the pool lap swim, which meant her alarm went off at 4:45 a.m.

The doorbell jingled—that was a surprise. She wasn't expecting anyone, unless it was Mrs. Cranston who lived next door having trouble with her car again. Padding across the living room to the door in her bare feet and wearing her most comfortable relaxing clothes, she wasn't prepared for the face on the other side of the peephole.

Ben McKaslin.

How did he even know where she lived? Then she remembered he knew where her mother was, that it was easy to find her sister and brother—all he would have to do was look in the phone book. She'd twisted back the dead bolt before she'd even made the decision to invite him in. Not that she was dressed for it. She couldn't look anywhere near her best in a nearly worn-out T-shirt a size too big and knit shorts with a blueberry stain at the hem.

But it was too late to worry about that or to wonder at the sparkle of joy she felt as she pulled the door open and saw him, kissed by the bright glare of the sun. The hot wind ruffled his short dark hair. His steely gaze latched on to hers and she forgot about her appearance. Every thought fled straight from her head as the joy within her expanded.

He looked so good—not that she could see beyond the intense lock of his gaze. These are just old feelings, she tried to tell herself, and love long buried that still remained for this one man.

But then in the next instant she knew that wasn't right. Her entire being twinkled like star shine and this emotion she felt was entirely new. Entirely different. More strident than anything she'd felt before. It was as if he could see through every layer of her to her very soul.

“I hope you don't mind that I looked you up.” His rugged baritone didn't sound the least bit apologetic or conciliatory. “I would have called, but I didn't want you to say no.”

“I wouldn't have.” She took a ragged breath, suddenly painfully aware of how she'd turned away from him that day on the bench. It felt long ago, but it was only a little more than a week. “Westin is making such good progress. He's my best bubble blower.”

“He takes after his uncle.” Dimples dug in, bracketing his tight smile. He was a fierce man—no, a
strong man. Even when he smiled there was an intense male energy to Ben McKaslin that probably had women wishing for him on first stars of the night.

Not that she was going to let herself be one of them.

“I hope you haven't eaten yet.” He gestured with his hands, and she realized he held two restaurant food sacks. “I brought supper from the diner, thanks to Rachel and Paige. Are you gonna let me in?”

“I'm thinking of barring the door against you,” she quipped, “but I'm betting that they trained you how to get through a locked door in the military.”

“Not only am I trained to pick your lock, I can break it, shoot it, grenade it, explode it and call in an air strike.”

“Wow. You're handy.” Knowing she'd regret it if she let him in—and regret it more if she didn't—she held the door open wide. “Come in. You never told me what you did in the military.”

“I did a lot of things. Rescued downed pilots and hostages and rendered medical aid or military might, depending. I was often dispatched with SEAL teams or on Delta missions—counterterrorism stuff. Most of it is classified.” He ambled in without any crutches, but he had a serious limp. “This is a nice place you have.”

“It's home.”

A modest answer—he should have expected it. In fact, he'd expected a small place, considering her
bankruptcy and all. But it was nice—sunny and feminine, something Rachel would have liked. With frilly curtains at the windows and flowery pillows on the couch. Vases of fake flowers and porcelain figurines in a lighted glass case next to the decades-old TV. He thought of his big screen and satellite dish he was never home on the base to watch.