Holiday Homecoming (2 page)

Sure, it was snowing, but the weatherpeople had promised the snow would be light. Okay, so it wouldn't be the first time a weatherman was wrong, and this
was
Montana. Extreme weather happened. But Boise?

Going home might not be the easiest thing, but she missed her sisters. She didn't want to spend Thanksgiving alone.

See? She would have been better off driving, with snow forecasted or not! There was that Murphy's Law in effect again. Whatever would turn out worse, she had a habit of picking it.

This will work out for the best.
She took a deep breath, willed her tensed muscles to unclench just a little.
Right, Lord?

Right. Everything happened as it was meant to be. So this was simply a safer route than if she'd driven over the pass and right into the blizzard. By going to Boise, they were going around the storm. It made sense.

She'd just catch a flight when she got to Boise. Surely there would be a few vacant seats somewhere on a late-night flight to Bozeman.

And if not, she'd just rent a car and drive. The blizzard was in the other direction, right?

Thanksgiving

Wrong. The flights had been canceled. The Boise airport was closing down due to the rapidly approaching surprise storm. The blizzard was bringing dangerous conditions to half the cities in northern Idaho and to all of midwestern Montana.

Great. And if that wasn't bad enough, there wasn't a car left to rent in all of Boise. Kristin ought to know. She'd called every place that would answer their phone at 12:06 on Thanksgiving morning.

There were no hotel vacancies, no motel vacancies and the local bed-and-breakfasts weren't picking up.

Definitely a problem. Kristin buttoned her coat and stared at her reflection in the black windows of the airport terminal. What was she going to do? Fat chunks of snow floated to the white ground on the other side of the glass where a single taxi waited along a vacant curb.

No passengers rushed from baggage claim or hurried to make that last-minute flight. She was practically alone and the security guards were eyeing her suspiciously. The swish of a janitor's wide mop seemed loud in the echoing silence.

It looked as if she would miss Thanksgiving at home.

No sisters. No baby niece to hug close. No roasted turkey with Gramma's special stuffing.

On the other hand, she wouldn't have to face Allison's empty place at the table.

But not seeing
any
of her sisters… Her chest ached
with sadness. How could she be sad at completely opposite things at once?

So, she'd spend this holiday alone. She lived alone. She spent lots of weekends alone. She was used to it.

Still, loneliness grabbed hard and squeezed. For as much as she dreaded some things, she missed others very much. The way Mom always greeted her at the door, wearing her apron and opening her arms wide for a hug.

The big country kitchen would be warm with the delicious fragrances of roasting turkey and baking bread and desserts set out to cool on the counter.

Her sisters laughing and quibbling while her nieces and nephew toddled around the living room, and everyone turning to shout, “It's Kristin. Kristin's here!”

Exhausted from starting work at six o'clock this morning so she could leave early for the airport, she was too tired even to pray. Aching with despair, she buried her face in her hands.

I
f that wasn't a sign from above, Ryan didn't know what was. He'd stood in line at one car-rental place after another. No rental cars. The passengers had dispersed; he detoured to baggage claim and was stunned to see his suitcase circling. He had the worst luck
ever
when it came to airport baggage.

Yup, it was a sign. This attempted trip home wasn't over yet. Okay, he was going to give the rental counters one more try. If there were no cars, then he'd done all he could. It looked as if he
wouldn't
be going home for Thanksgiving.

But he couldn't be that lucky. He was probably the only human being on the continent who was hoping to head
away
from home.

Of course, there was a last-minute cancellation and an SUV with four-wheel drive just happened to be available—the only car left for rent in the entire city. Providence had spoken. Ryan Sanders was going to spend
Thanksgiving with his family. No excuses, no exceptions. He might as well accept it and make the best of it.

It would mean a lot to Mom. That's what mattered, at least telling himself that gave him enough grit to accept his fate. He loved his mom, he loved his sister, but he didn't miss Montana. He wanted to put that part of his life away and lock the door tight. Throw the key in a deep well and cover it up. For good. There were some places too painful to go, like the past.

That's why he believed in going full steam ahead. Why he never looked back. Why he wasn't thrilled as he loaded up the Jeep and flipped the defroster on high. The Good Lord was making His will pretty clear in spite of the weather. The snowstorm was working up into a blizzard on the other side of the snowy windshield. The wipers couldn't keep up.

Great, how was he going to see where he was going? Ryan squinted into the dizzying downfall but it didn't help. He couldn't read the directional signs through the whiteout conditions. Should he go left or right?

Clueless, he went left. He barely touched the brake and the tires did a little skid on the ice. Talk about dangerous conditions. He was a decent driver, but there was no sense in putting himself or anyone else at risk. A fair amount of his practice was comprised of car-accident victims. He'd done enough rotation time in the E.R. to know what could happen.

Maybe the wisest thing to do was hunt down a hotel room
somewhere
. Boise was crammed full of stranded travelers who'd booked every available room for the
holiday weekend. He knew because he'd spent forty straight minutes on the phone. But maybe there was something available farther down the road, in one of the little towns a few miles north. He'd drive until he found a motel room—he wasn't picky. He was too tired to drive on icy highways until dawn.

Okay, where had the road gone? It had to be somewhere in front of him. There was a metal post, good thing he didn't hit it. Wait—a soft glow of light broke through the blizzard.

Perfect. He was headed the wrong way. The snow thinned on the lee side of the terminal as he crept through the empty passenger-loading zone. There was only a lonely taxi waiting alongside the curb with lights blinking. It was quickly being covered by snowfall.

Light from the terminal broke through the downfall to sheen on the road ahead of him and that's when he saw her in his peripheral vision. Kristin McKaslin in her chic tan coat and designer clothes, sitting with her head in her hands, alone behind the long wall of windows.

She was stranded, too. And all by herself. That just wasn't right. He eased the vehicle to the curb with a bump. No way was he going to let her sit there. Not when Providence had handed him a four-wheel drive and, like it or not, he was still heading home.

Through the glass, backlit by fluorescent light, he could see her perfectly, with that short golden bob of her hair falling forward as she sat. He could feel her misery.

Yet although she looked every bit the stranded trav
eler, Kristin McKaslin was still the picture of perfection in her upscale clothes and her every-hair-in-place do.

It must be nice to have a life like hers. He tried not to hold it against her, and the old envy surprised him. It wasn't exactly envy, but it was close. As a boy growing up, he'd gotten an eyeful of the McKaslins' storybook life via his mom. He saw the Thomas Kinkade-like coziness of the house she'd grown up in, heard endlessly from Mom how the McKaslin girls never gave their mother any grief the way he did. As a kid, his own inadequacies hurt and he was ashamed of them, so he did his best to cover them up with bravado and stupid recklessness.

He'd grown up, tried hard to be a good man. But some things didn't change—like the truth in a man's heart. He'd wanted
that
life. To live in a warm and roomy house with a whole family, instead of in a cramped, tumbling down house with a widowed mom who worked three jobs to keep food on the table. He'd never been able to come to terms with his father's death. Or the simple fact that Mom's life would have been without hardship and he would have grown up differently if his dad had been there.

Maybe—just maybe—his heart would be whole if tragedy hadn't struck.

Let the past go, man.
Sometimes it was the only thing he could do. Instead of reexamining a past he couldn't fix, it was better just to do the best he could now, in the moment. And that meant helping Kristin.
The way he figured it, anyone who looked so broken over the thought of missing her family, didn't deserve to be stranded and alone on Thanksgiving. Maybe that was another reason the Lord had made sure a vehicle was available. So that he could offer her a ride.

Ryan liked it when the Father gave him a purpose. It was easier to forget his own troubles and to not think about what awaited him in Montana. He'd worked so hard to stay away since he left for college.

He tapped the horn, hoping she could hear over the wind and through the terminal's walls. Her head popped up and her hands fell away to reveal her heart-shaped face twisted with melancholy. No tears, just emotion so raw it made his chest squeeze with pain.

I'll make sure you get home.
He watched her squint through the windows and storm, trying to figure out who was honking. She frowned and looked away. All she probably saw was a strange vehicle lurking outside from where she sat. Okay, she couldn't see through the vehicle's tinted windows. He hit the window lever and the tinted glass slid down, bringing in the storm.

He shivered, but being cold was nothing compared to the look of relief on Kristin's face. The sadness faded like night to dawn and an astonished look replaced it. He gestured for her to come join him.

She lifted one eyebrow, as if making sure of his offer.

He waved her over again. Her beaming smile was the prettiest thing he'd seen in some time. She bounded to her feet, slipped her computer-case strap over one slim shoulder and her garment bag over the other. She
marched toward him with a buoyant grace that showed how happy she was.

Yeah, it was a good thing he made the wrong turn and wound up in the right place to help her. Icy wind seared like razor blades through his thin Phoenix-bought coat, but he didn't mind. There was something in the way she hurried toward him that warmed him on the inside. Like a lightbulb's steady glow.

It must be nice to have the kind of home she wanted to get to so badly. He fought a twist in his chest as he climbed out into the snowfall—whatever emotion that was, he refused to deal with it. He was a world-class ignorer of emotions.

Kristin slid to a stop on the icy sidewalk and he steadied her with a hand to her elbow.

“Careful there. I don't want to have to splint a broken leg for you.”

“Whew. No, but at least you would be handy to have around if I did fall.” She found her balance and eased away from his steadying grip. “I can't believe it's really you. How did you happen to be lucky enough to get a rental car?”

“The angels smiled down on me, I guess.” He took her bag off her shoulder and stowed it. “You wouldn't happen to want a lift to Montana, would you?”

“What? Are you kidding me? I thought I'd be stuck in that terminal. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you waving at me from behind your steering wheel. For a second there, I thought I was dreaming. This is too good to be true.”

“I guess it's your lucky day. Want me to take the computer case, too?”

“What?” She swiped the snow out of her face. And what a pretty face she had, all lit up with joy and happiness. One of the golden McKaslin girls, who had grown up to be a fine woman. It was easy to see her good heart and her sincerity. He'd forgotten there were still women like her in the world.

“Oh, the computer.” She rolled her eyes before shrugging the strap off her shoulder. “I'm getting ditzy. Well, ditzier than usual. Too many hours without sleep.”

“That makes two of us.” He stowed the computer safely between the seat and a suitcase, so it wouldn't slide around. “Don't stand there freezing. Get in the car.”

Kristin felt the blush flame from her throat to her hairline. Was she really gawking at the big handsome doctor who looked about as fit as an NFL quarterback? Yeah! She ripped her gaze away from him and hopped into the passenger seat. The slam of the door meant she was safely inside away from him and she could gather her wits.

Why was she acting as though she'd never seen him before? He was Ryan. Mom's friend's kid. The one who drove his family car into the ditch when he was eight.

It was hard to see that bothersome kid in the broad-shouldered, competent man who settled behind the steering wheel. He smelled of snow and winter nights and spicy aftershave. Just right.

And why was she noticing? She was a self-avowed, independent single woman. She was too smart to fall in love with any man. Let alone someone who lived half the country away.

Ryan clicked his belt into place. Grim lines carved deep into the corners around his mouth. “Buckle up. It's gonna be a tough drive.”

Kristin hadn't realized the windshield was a solid white sheet until the wipers snapped to life and beat the accumulation away. “The snow is really coming down. Do you think we can get very far?”

“I'm gonna try. We may have to overnight it somewhere,
if
we can find a vacancy.”

“Sounds sensible. We want to get home safe and sound.”

“That's the idea.” He winked, put the Jeep in gear and eased down the accelerator. The tires slid, dug in and propelled them forward. “I've got a cell phone if you want to call home. Your folks are probably up worrying.”

Was that nice or what? Ryan definitely had done a lot of changing. “Thanks, but I tried with mine. I couldn't get through. The storm.”

“Ah.” He concentrated on navigating through the whiteout conditions.

She didn't say anything more. If she couldn't make out the road in front of him, how could he? But he was somehow, driving with a steady confidence that made her take a closer look at the man Ryan Sanders had grown up to be.

A volunteer in the Peace Corps. A doctor. He was a man of contradictions. He still had that “I'm trouble” grin and the stubble on his jaw made him look rugged and outdoorsy. Mom was always mentioning Mary's son on her weekly calls, but Kristin had dismissed him along with all the other eligible men Mom talked about.

Poor Mom, who was never going to give up hope for another wedding to plan. What was it Mom had said about Ryan? Kristin couldn't remember. She automatically deleted any talk of men and marriage and how Mr. Right would come along one day.

There was no such thing as Mr. Right! How could Mom be in an unhappy marriage and be so blind to the truth?

Maybe it was how she made it through the day. Troubled, Kristin tried to turn her thoughts away from painful things. Stuff she tried not to think about, but going home only made it impossible to ignore. The hole in her family that remained—Allison. The missing face no one mentioned. The place at the table where a chair used to sit. The oldest sister who'd been alive and beautiful, and whom Kristin had loved with all her heart.

The years passed, her parents had slipped into a resigned distant marriage, her sisters had gone on to make homes and marriages of their own, but some things would never be the same. If there was something Allison's death had taught her, it was that nothing lasted. Nothing. Not family, not love, not life.

Ryan broke the silence that had fallen between them.
“Hey, are you hungry? There's a drive-through that's open. It's the only one I've seen so far. If we don't stop, it might be our last chance to eat until daybreak.”

“I'm starving. I definitely want to stop.”

“Looks like only the drive-through is open.” He braked in the parking lot to study the front doors. “Hope you don't mind eating in here.”

“I'm not picky.”

“Me, either.” He slid to the order board, where the whiteout had blocked out half the menu. “I have no idea if you can see to order anything.”

“It's no problem. There's one of these near my town house. I know the menu by heart.”

“Me, too.” Why that surprised him, Ryan didn't know. It made perfect sense she would eat at restaurants. He just didn't picture her as the fast-food kind of girl.

A mumbling teenager who sounded unenthusiastic about his job took their orders. After waiting at the window while the winds kicked up, blowing the snow sideways, they were handed two sacks of piping-hot food. Ryan crept through the blizzard to park safely beneath the glow of a streetlight.

“Not that any of the light is reaching us,” Kristin commented with a wink as she unpacked the first bag.

Ryan flicked on the overhead lamp. “It's weird. I haven't
seen
snow since I went skiing winter vacation of my senior year in college. And it was on the slopes, not falling.”

“I bet it never snows in Phoenix.”