Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Bayou Sweetheart\The Firefighter's New Family\Season of Redemption (43 page)

His eyebrows rose at the address and his expression soured.

She knew what he was thinking. Poor little rich girl living on the lake but can't afford a tow truck? Well, she didn't ask for his help and he could choke on paying her way.

Again, she gave herself a mental shake. What was it about him that dug so deep under her skin?

As they drove in silence, Kellie studied him. Ryan Marsh had a classic hero complex. No wonder he took his fiancée's accident so hard. A guy like him would torture himself over not preventing it from happening.

Overprotective? You better believe it.

Overbearing? Yes, ma'am.

And way too easy to look at.

“What?” Ryan caught her staring.

“You can turn left after the next mailbox.” She pointed beyond the road, hoping to distract him from that quizzical look he gave her. Her cheeks felt way too warm.

He slowed down and then pulled into the long drive.

“You can let me out here.”

He kept going.

“Did you hear me? This is good.”

“Yeah, but I'd just as soon see you get in the door safe and sound.”

Yep, ridiculously overprotective.

Again, the image of him as a gallant knight ready to slay a lurking dragon flitted through her mind. It was a refreshing change from what she'd been used to—guys who didn't even bother to open doors. Ryan reminded her of what she'd always dreamed of—a prince who'd rescue her from the darkness. She quickly shook away those girlish thoughts. She'd learned that fairy tales didn't come true and had the scars to remind her of that.

He slowed to a stop, but the rumbling sound of his huge truck would no doubt alert her landlady to their presence.

“Great. Now I'll have some explaining to do to Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Who's she?”

Kellie savored the moment to rub his nose in her situation and wipe away his poor-little-rich-girl impression. “She's the elderly lady I live with. Rent a room from actually.”

Ryan gave her a swift look of surprise. She'd scored a hit. “How are you getting to work tomorrow?”

None of your business
. But Kellie smiled sweetly instead. “I have a bike.”

Again, another look of surprise. “A motorcycle?”

“No. A bicycle.”

He frowned.

“It's not too far to bike to town. I've done it before.” Several times in fact, to save on gas money. She slipped out of the truck before he could respond. Before he could recommend a different solution. “Thanks for the ride.”

Running up the walkway to the porch, Kellie turned and waved. True to his word, Ryan remained parked in Mrs. Wheeler's driveway until she slipped into the house.

“Mrs. Wheeler? I'm home.” Home—yeah right.

It had been years since Kellie knew what a real home felt like. When she and her brother were little, there'd been happy times in their Grand Rapids area home. Especially at Christmas, her favorite holiday. They'd pile into the car and drive north of the city to hike into the woods and chop down a tree. Kellie and her mom took hours to decorate it. And she'd drink and eat her fill of hot chocolate and Christmas cookies.

A slender, white-haired woman peeked around the corner. “Oh. Kellie. I'm glad you made it. I started to worry.”

That was nice of her, but Kellie knew better. Mrs. Wheeler was more concerned about having her home after dark so she wouldn't be all alone in her big house.

“My car broke down, so I got a ride.”

“From who?” The elderly woman looked horrified.

“Someone from work.” That's all her landlady needed to know.

“Good. A young girl like you can't be too careful, you know.”

“True. And I am careful. Well, good night.” Kellie turned to go to her rented room but hesitated when it looked like her landlady wanted to say more.

“All right then. I'm headed for bed and the TV. I'm glad you're home.” Mrs. Wheeler usually made her way upstairs at nine-thirty on the dot. Every night. Tonight, she was early. Surely, the woman hadn't worried herself sick. Kellie wasn't used to anyone worrying over her.

“Are you feeling okay, Mrs. Wheeler?”

“Just a little tired today.”

Kellie narrowed her gaze. The woman looked healthy as a horse. She gave her landlady's arm a quick and awkward pat. “Okay then, sleep well.”

“You, too.”

Kelly headed up the back stairs to her room. She had her own bathroom and a makeshift kitchen set up with a dorm-sized refrigerator, hot plate and George Foreman grill. What more could a girl want?

A whole lot more.

In time, things would be where she wanted them to be. Right where she'd prepared for things to be. Years of putting herself through school with menial jobs and student loans lay behind her. A good future lay ahead.

If she got that job in Traverse City.

Kellie kicked off her boots, shrugged out of her jacket and scarf and settled on the lumpy futon couch situated between two long, thin windows that overlooked the driveway. She pulled out her phone and scanned the internet for Ryan's name and address. She found an R. Marsh with an address near her own.

3410 Lakeshore Drive
.

No way did he live only a few houses away from her. In fact, they'd passed his place to get to hers. How could she have not noticed his address on his assessment paperwork? But then, he'd unnerved her from the beginning.

She jotted down his address onto an envelope. She'd confirm it at outpatient and then, as soon as she got paid from her part-time job, she'd drop fifty bucks into his mailbox.

* * *

Saturday morning, Ryan stepped into the office of Three Corner Community Church. His new sister-in-law had told him he'd find his brother here preparing for Sunday's sermon.

Sinclair looked up once he heard him coming down the short hallway. “Hey, Ryan, what's up?”

“Do you have a minute?” Ryan wasn't on easy terms with his brother. Not like they used to be.

Three years ago, Sinclair had dared Sara to mow an S in the grass growing on the side of a hill along the hayfield they were cutting. Sara's tractor flipped and crushed her. And Sinclair had run off on a mission trip to Haiti a week after the funeral. He'd stayed there until only a few months ago.

“Yeah, sure.” His brother cocked his head to the side and waited.

Ryan sat down. He hadn't seen much of his brother since he'd recently married Sara's sister, Hope. Ryan was glad they'd finally gotten together, but watching them around the Marsh family dinner table reminded him too much of happier times. He didn't want to dampen their happiness with his dark moods, so he'd stayed away.

Ryan spotted Sinclair and Hope's wedding picture on the desk and his fists clenched. “I need to do some community service hours and wondered if you knew of a good place around here.”

Sinclair sat forward. “Actually, I have the perfect solution. A single mom in our congregation is having a house built by a nonprofit group of churches that builds homes for needy families. They could really use someone with your skills.”

Ryan nodded. He'd been picking away at refurbishing his cottage for over a year now. Other than minor finishing work, it was pretty much done.

His brother pushed a sticky note with contact information toward him. “This is the church in charge of the program, and Jeff is the guy who oversees the construction.”

“Thanks.” Ryan picked it up and slipped the note in his wallet.

“So, how's it going?”

Ryan shrugged. “Not like I'd ever planned. Mom probably told you, but that agency I had to see recommended me for counseling. So, I'm stuck for the next couple of months.”

Sinclair steepled his fingers. “Maybe it will help.”

“Right.” Ryan narrowed his gaze. “What did you tell that intern?”

His brother didn't look away. “I told her what happened to Sara. And I told her that we're all worried about you.”

Ryan nodded. There were things about that day he didn't want to revisit. It was hard enough blocking out the vision of his fiancée lying on the ground. Another thing entirely to keep from hearing her last words spoken over and over in his dreams. The feel of her last kiss...

“Man, I'm sorry about all this.” Sinclair covered Ryan's hand.

Ryan pulled back and stood. “Yeah, me, too. Thanks for the info. I'll check it out.”

He made his way to the door.

“Ryan?”

He turned and looked at his brother's concerned face. “Yeah?”

“If you need anything, I'm here. I'll always be here.”

“Thanks.” Ryan nodded and left.

Sinclair hadn't been around after the funeral when he'd needed his brother the most. When his life had stretched empty before him, Ryan had faced it alone knowing no one really knew what it had been like. Only Sinclair had been there the day of the accident. Only Sinclair knew what he'd gone through watching Sara die.

It was too late for talking out those feelings now.

Three years too late.

Chapter Three

U
gh!
Forty degrees and rainy and her car was in the shop. Kellie shivered but kept pedaling. Her breath billowed white before her, and she had to blink constantly to clear the raindrops from her eyes. She should have worn a ball cap instead of the knitted hat she had on underneath her rain slicker.

She'd only ridden a mile out of town and already her jeans were soaked. Four more to go in this miserable mess. As soon as she got paid next week, she'd repay Ryan Marsh for the tow truck. Her car would be done before that, but she'd have to use her credit card to pay for it. Another climb on that plastic balance didn't sit well, but she didn't have much of a choice.

A car passed by, splashing dirty water all over her feet. Kellie gritted her teeth as cold rain trickled down her neck, but she kept pedaling. She puffed another billow of white breath in the cold evening air and picked up the pace in order to make the hill in front of her.

The exertion warmed her, but not even halfway up the hill, Kellie couldn't push anymore. She slipped off her bike to walk the rest of the way when a dark blue pickup truck pulled off the road up ahead.

She knew that truck. And the tall man getting out of the driver's side. Ryan Marsh, bundled in a dark gray rain parka, shortened the distance between them in no time.

He reached for her bike with his big square hands. “Come on, I'll give you a ride.”

Kellie didn't let go. “No need. I've got it.”

The rain grew more insistent. So did Ryan's expression. “You really think I'm going to leave you out here? You're hard to see in this soup.”

Kellie had reflectors on her bike and a reflective strip across her backpack and rain slicker, but as dusk grew closer, so did patches of fog and mist. She glanced at the cab of his truck promising dry warmth and a quicker ride home. Her hands were cold inside damp gloves.

“It's not like your place is out of my way. I live only a few houses down from you. Plus, I've got some questions about group sessions.” Ryan shrugged deeper into the hood of his jacket while rain trickled down the front. “I could really use your insight into what to expect.”

Kellie looked into his pleading eyes and felt the refusal die on her lips. He wanted her help. She wanted to get warm. How harmful could it be?

Kellie nodded and let go of her bike. She watched Ryan lift it with ease into the truck's bed. She slipped off her backpack, climbed into the passenger side and buckled up.

Ryan settled in behind the wheel bringing with him a spray of raindrops. He cranked up the heat and pointed to the cup holders in the flip-down console between them. “I just filled my travel mug with hot chocolate at the gas station. Help yourself.”

Kellie looked with longing at the giant insulated mug, steam rising from the lid. She glanced in the backseat and spotted a brown grocery bag. What was in the bag? “No. That's okay.”

He gave her quizzical look. “Kellie, go ahead and have it. You're frozen. And in case you're wondering what's in the bag back there, it's milk and cereal, not beer.”

True, she'd been wondering and nodded. Cold shivers racked her body and she suddenly didn't care about drinking after him. Stripping off her wet gloves, she reached for the metal mug. She cradled her hands around the stainless steel warmth and sighed. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Looking in his mirror, he pulled back out onto the road.

After a few sips of hot chocolate, Kellie got down to business. This couldn't be a social call. “You wanted insight into your sessions?”

“I don't understand what I'm supposed to do.”

“You've met with John about your goals, right?”

“Yeah. My goal is to get this done and over with as quickly as possible.”

Kellie shifted in her seat so she could better see Ryan's face. He looked annoyed. “Group will mean more if you focus on each session instead of the end result. Give yourself permission to open up and share your feelings in a safe environment.”

He gave a rude snort. “I'm not comfortable talking about my feelings with people I know let alone to an entire group of strangers.”

Kellie took another sip of chocolate. She didn't point out that his refusal to deal with his feelings was what got him to this point. Ryan probably felt too much, and being the hero-type he wouldn't dream of burdening someone else with his baggage. He'd carry his own, never wanting to appear weak or needy.

Kellie could definitely relate. Self-dependence was her mantra. Her safety measure. Maybe she didn't let herself feel enough because strong feelings needed an outlet for release. She shook off those thoughts. Counseling required a certain level of emotional distance, and she'd learned how to distance herself pretty well.

Another sip of hot chocolate and she felt more human and less like a wet sponge. “Vocalizing can minimize the power those feelings have.”

He looked at her. “Talking about it isn't going to make it go away.”

“How do you know?”

Ryan didn't answer.

Kellie figured that he'd probably never talked about how the death of his fiancée had affected him. How if affected him still. Bottling up that much emotion was bound to one day pop his cork. Was it any wonder he'd sought something to numb the pain?

Silence stretched inside his truck emphasizing the whish-whish from the windshield wipers and the gentle hum of the heater. Kellie noticed that they had pulled on to their road. They were coming up to what should be his mailbox, but one of the numbers was missing. She'd already checked.

As if reading her mind, Ryan pointed in confirmation. “I live right there. I go through town every day on my way to work, so I can give you a ride tomorrow if you need it.”

“Thanks, but—”

He raised a hand. “I know, I know. Conflict of interest.”

“Ethics.” She smiled. “Accepting another ride from you is a definite conflict of ethics.”

Ryan shook his head. “That's stupid. I suppose lying sprawled on the side of the road after you'd been clipped by a driver who couldn't see you is more noble.”

He had a point. “I'm here, aren't I?”

“Yeah, you are.”

He pulled into her driveway and stopped along a row of trees. Putting the vehicle in Park and shutting off the noisy wipers, Ryan turned toward her with a grim face. “Look, I don't
want
to feel the way I do.”

Listening to the sound of rain dancing along the roof of Ryan's truck, Kellie held back from asking the obvious question of how he felt. She had a pretty good idea but had no business trying to counsel this guy through his issues. They tread dangerous ground as it was considering the intimate setting inside his warm truck.

She glanced at the mug of hot chocolate she'd been drinking, and the temptation to do
something
for him tugged at her. She looked him square in the eye. “Give group an honest effort. You'll be surprised.”

“I don't deserve this.”

Kellie's hackles rose. That was a typical reaction from a person in denial. How many times had she heard someone say they didn't
deserve
court-ordered treatment because it was someone else's fault for the pickle they found themselves in? Disappointment swamped her. She'd thought maybe Ryan was different. Guess not.

She let loose a sigh. “No one forced you to go to that party.”

His gaze bore into hers, dark and angry. “I don't deserve to be surprised, okay? Or happy.”

Kellie blinked. Talk about self-punishment. Ryan had beaten himself up long enough and he needed more than her playing counselor right now. They shared the same faith and yet a pat word of encouragement would never be enough. Ryan needed truth spoken into his life, but even more so, the guy needed peace. She couldn't give him that. Only God could.

Searching her heart for the right words, she came up with the obvious. Or maybe God did. “No one deserves the gift of salvation, but Jesus died for us anyway so we'd have the right path to forgiveness.”

Ryan turned and stared out of the windshield, past the rivulets of rain running down the glass, past even the driveway that led to a yard spanning the short distance to the lake. Lake Leelanau was shrouded in mist.

Kellie didn't know what he saw, but she'd guess that he revisited his fiancée's accident frequently. Her heart twisted.

Gently, she touched his arm. “Group might be the path you need to take in order to forgive yourself.”

His hand covered hers. “I'll try.”

“Good.” Kellie gave his arm a quick squeeze and noticed the mass of hard strength below layers of jacket and shirt.

Time to leave
.

She made a move toward the door but Ryan held fast to her hand, stalling her. “You're easy to talk to, did you know that?”

Considering the line of work she'd chosen, she hoped so. Considering the nice warm feel of Ryan's hand on her own, she needed to get out of there fast.

“Thanks.” She pulled free and opened the passenger side door. A blast of damp cold air was exactly what she needed.

“Thanks for the ride and the hot chocolate. I can get my bike from here.”

The last part fell on deaf ears. Ryan was already out of his vehicle. He hopped up into the long bed of his truck as if the high height were nothing and handed down her bike.

Kellie took it, careful not to look into the trap of his eyes. “Thanks again.”

“See you around, Kellie.”

She waved, still not looking at him. She hoped she didn't see Ryan around. In fact, she'd be much safer if she never saw him again.

* * *

The following week, while sitting in group listening to others share some frighteningly personal stuff, Ryan remembered his promise to Kellie. He'd try. He'd even prayed for patience through this whole group therapy thing. Bottom line, he couldn't go on like he had. Isolated in his grief, he needed something more than beer to get through the empty nights.

He'd started his required community service hours working on the house for a single mom in Sinclair's church. It helped. Now that he'd finished renovating his own place, he didn't like being home alone with little left to do and nothing but empty time on his hands. Time to think too much. Time to miss Sara.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Running his hands through his hair, he nearly groaned. He was tired of being alone.

“Ryan? You okay?” John Thompson directed the group's attention toward him after a silent pause between clients.

“Yeah.” It came out gravelly and raw.

That was so not true. He felt like he was breaking into pieces. Pieces he couldn't glue back together. His stomach tightened and he suddenly felt like he might pass out. Sweat beaded across his forehead as his heart raced with the prompting to be honest. Come clean and be honest.

“No, I'm not.”

“You want to talk about it.” John leaned back in his chair, clipboard in hand, ready to take notes.

Ryan's throat threatened to close up on him. “Not really.”

“We can wait. Take your time.”

Fighting against the quaking going on inside of him only made it worse. His eyes filled with tears, but he vowed he'd choke before he cried. “I—ah...”

He felt a hand briefly touch his shoulder. The woman with the tattoos. Jess was her name, and he'd been blown away by the harsh story of her life. Humbled.

If she could do this, so could he. “I need help.”

* * *

Kellie left the elementary school where she worked part-time as a teacher's aide in her niece's class. She slipped behind the wheel of her recently repaired but ancient car and smiled when it started right up.

The repair bill was not as steep as she expected. That had been a huge blessing. Someday, she'd buy a new car. If she got the school counselor job in Traverse City it might even be sooner than someday.

It took less than ten minutes to reach LightHouse Center across town. She'd left a book in her office that she needed to study for her looming certification test.

Kellie pulled into the parking lot and her stomach dropped like a stone thrown in water when she spotted Ryan's pickup. She'd forgotten that he had group on Tuesdays. One of the two days that Kellie did not intern.

She checked her watch. They might not be done for a bit yet, so the coast was clear if she moved quickly. If she grabbed her book and ran.

Slipping into the lobby, Kellie gave the receptionist a wave. Marci, on the phone, waved back. Kellie made her way down the hall and into her tiny office. The book she needed lay open on her desk, right where she'd left it.

Snatching it up, she cradled the weighty text against her chest and headed for the door of her office. The telltale sounds of a group session breaking up made her move faster, but she wasn't fast enough. Clients spilled out of the group session room down the hall and Ryan was one of them.

Too late. He noticed her and nodded.

One look at Ryan and Kellie couldn't make her feet move. He'd been through the emotional wringer if his messy hair and red eyes were any indication. Trapped by the troubled look in his dark gaze, she backed against the wall to let people by. He seemed like he might want to talk to her.

She was floored by how badly she wanted to talk to him.

“Hey.” His voice sounded raw and scratchy.

“You okay?” It slipped out before Kellie could catch it.

He stepped closer to let others pass them, and she inhaled sharply. Ryan smelled warm and spicy and distinctly male.

He cleared his throat, but his voice remained low and soft. “Step one. I'm powerless against this grief.”

Kellie almost reached out to touch him. Almost. She clutched her book tighter instead. “That's good.”

He hadn't said alcohol, but then that wasn't the only issue. Kellie believed Ryan had tried to numb his pain instead of dealing with it. He'd finally admitted defeat, and that was the starting point toward healing. The first step in recovery. She felt proud. For him.