Love Inspired March 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: North Country Family\Small-Town Midwife\Protecting the Widow's Heart (41 page)

A twinge of guilt pricked his conscience as he steered his car toward his cabin. He hadn't told his family he was coming back to Dover. He had a hard enough time with all his well-meaning fellow officers in Dallas. His family would be hovering and worrying, and he needed peace and quiet—time to figure out his future and make what could be the most important decision of his life. The cabin his uncle had left him was the perfect place. Quiet, private and peaceful. If he couldn't find his answers here, there were no answers to be found.

His medical leave was up at the end of the month. He had to decide if he would remain in law enforcement or look for work elsewhere. He knew what he wanted. He liked being a detective for the Dallas Police Department. But being shot had left him filled with doubts about his ability to do the job and stolen the sense of invincibility a police officer needed to function. He hadn't been able to pick up his service weapon since. What kind of cop could he be if he was too scared to use his gun?

Pressing his foot on the brake, he eased his SUV into the parking area beneath the cabin and stopped. Hands gripping the wheel, he sent up a quick prayer.
Lord, I need Your help sorting this out. I can't do it without You. Show me the future I should choose.

His body protested as he pulled himself out of the car and retrieved his bag from the backseat. His thigh burned as he climbed the steps, the scar tissue pulling and stinging with each step. He inhaled a sharp breath. His wounds had healed completely, but overuse or lack of sleep brought back the aches and discomfort.

The fear and guilt, however, were always with him. He'd been over that night four months ago when he and his partner, Pete Steele, had made a follow-up call on a homicide case. The interview had taken an odd turn, so Pete had called for backup. But on the way to the car, a gunman had appeared around the side of the house, catching him by surprise. He'd hesitated, taking rounds to his thigh, his side and his neck. Pete had taken one to the chest and died. A death that Ty could have prevented if he'd acted more quickly.

On the broad deck, he paused a moment to select the cabin key from the assortment on his key ring, stealing a glance at the lake and the ribbon of light slashing across the water from the full moon. First thing in the morning he'd come out here with his coffee, or better yet, to the pier and soak up the quiet.

With one quick movement he unlocked the door and stepped through, and came face-to-face with a bat-wielding woman standing three feet in front of him.

“Stop right there. Don't take another step.”

Ty stared a moment, then glanced around the cabin. It was his place. But he had no idea who this woman was. His surprise shifted abruptly to irritation. He dropped his duffel bag onto the floor. “Who
are
you and what are
you
doing in my cabin?”

“I have permission. And it's not your cabin.”

Ty frowned and took a step toward the woman. She pulled back on the bat as if ready to swing it at his head. He held up his hands. “I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know what you're doing here.”

“I told you. I have permission from the owner.”

“I'm the owner, and I didn't give anyone permission to stay here.” His neck throbbed. He rubbed it with his fingers, trying to ease the stinging.

“Ha! That's not true. The owner lives out of state.”

“Yeah. I live in Dallas.” Ty took a closer look at the intruder. She was wrapped in a purple robe with baggy sleeves and tied at the waist. Her dark hair was trapped beneath the thick collar as if she'd tossed the robe on in haste. He guessed she was about five-eight, maybe thirty years old, but it was hard to tell when she had a bat poised over her head. For the first time, Ty was aware of the fear in the woman's eyes and the tense, protective curve of her shoulders. He took a step forward only to have her squeal and retreat against the wall, pulling a cell phone from her pocket.

“I'm calling the police.” She punched in some numbers, all the while keeping a wary eye on him.

Ty lifted his hands in surrender and moved to the leather recliner, dropping down into it with a heavy sigh. His body was grateful for the softness. “Good. Chief Reynolds is a friend. He'll have this sorted out in a heartbeat, though I don't think he'll be too happy about you waking him up in the middle of the night.”

The woman held the small phone to her ear, bat at the ready. “This is Mrs.... Uh, I need help at the cabin at the lake. The one next door to the Coopers. There's an intruder.”

Ty held back the smile that found its way to his lips. That should bring the local law enforcement running. The ache in his side forced him up out of the chair. There was no place comfortable. He needed to stretch out on the bed. Fast. “Look, lady...”

A loud knock on the door interrupted him.

“Ty. Is that you?” Nelson Cooper peeked in the door, quickly coming inside when he saw what was happening. “Whoa. Mrs. Sloan, it's okay. Ty owns this cabin.” Nels held up his hands, placing himself between them. “What are you doing here? I didn't expect you.”

Ty watched the fear in the woman's eyes fade as she lowered the bat, clutching the phone in her other hand. “I came home on a whim. Sorry. I didn't expect guests.”

Nels shook Ty's hand, then moved to the woman, gently touching her arm. “This is Ginger Sloan. Her car broke down tonight, and she needed a place to stay. I didn't think you'd mind.”

“Normally I wouldn't. But I'm afraid we'll have to make other arrangements.” The woman's eyes, which he saw now were a dark green and covered with thick lashes, widened with worry. No. Desperation. Before he could speak, a small boy hurried toward them from the back, stopping at his mother's side, his eyes peeking over her protective arm.

“Mom?” His simple word held a boatload of questions.

“It's all right, Elliot. Don't worry.”

“Do we have to leave? I like it here.”

Ty glanced at his watch. It was nearly midnight, too late to make other arrangements. But he needed sleep. “Look, this is all a misunderstanding that we can sort out in the morning.”

“We can sleep in the car.” The woman raised her chin and met his gaze full-on.

He frowned. Did she think he was going to throw them out? “No need. You stay put. I'll bunk down at the boathouse. We'll talk tomorrow after we're all rested and calmer.” He glanced at the boy, who he guessed to be a little older than his six-year-old nephew, Kenny. “Are you sleeping in the fish room?” A smiled moved the child's lips, bringing a light to his dark eyes. He nodded. “Good choice. That was always my favorite room. Watch out for Barney, though.”

“Who's Barney?”

“Barney Brim. He's that fish on a stick sitting on the dresser. He likes to wander around the cabin sometimes. I can't keep him in one place.” The boy eyed him a moment, then smiled timidly. Picking up his duffel, Ty started for the door. Nelson spoke quietly to the woman.

“I'm so sorry for the confusion, Mrs. Sloan. Don't worry. Everything will be fine in the morning. You have my word.”

Ty waited until Nels stepped outside before facing the woman again. “Don't worry about any further intrusions. I'll be down at the boathouse, and I promise I won't bother you. You're safe here.”

For whatever reason, the woman's eyes lightened. “Thank you.”

He started to leave, then turned back. “Uh, you wouldn't happen to have anything to eat in the house, would you?”

She nodded. “Nels and Mae brought enough food to feed an army. Take what you need.”

Her expression had softened, but her defensive stance hadn't. She still held her son close to her side, as if protecting him from danger. Ty pulled a drink and a package of bologna from the fridge, then grabbed a bag of chips and the loaf of bread. “I'll bring this back in the morning.”

At the door he stopped, taking one last look at the woman and her child. Those wide green eyes still held a wary shadow, but the boy wiggled his fingers and smiled.

By the time he said good-night to Nels and crossed the yard to the boathouse at the water's edge, he'd collected enough questions to keep him up all night. What was the woman's story? Why was she so frightened? And why had he wanted to pull her and the child into his arms and comfort them? Fatigue. It was the only explanation.

After a change into his sweats, he ate a quick bite, downed his meds and went to bed.

Lord, I need rest. I need peace. I can't have strangers in my life right now.

Closing his eyes, he drifted off, only to find a pair of pretty green eyes filled with worry and fear chasing him into sleep.

Chapter Two

T
he smell of fresh coffee permeated the cabin. Ginger had awakened rested and fortified to face the day ahead. It had been a long time since she'd had a good night's sleep, but last night she'd slept like a log, waking way later than her normal time. Maybe it was the profound quiet of the lakeside cabin, free from sirens and backfiring cars and all the unknown sounds that came with living in a low-rent apartment complex.

She poured a cup of coffee and spooned in a little cream and sugar. Elliot was still asleep, which gave her a rare and welcome quiet time to think and plan her next move. Moving to the expansive windows, she gazed out at the lake, now sparkling with sunlight. The old oak trees with their gnarled limbs, heavy with Spanish moss, painted a picture of serenity that beckoned her weary soul.

Grabbing a throw from the sofa, she headed out to the deck, removed the plastic covers from the wooden rockers and curled up, draping the throw across her lap. The air was chilly, but the knitted cover provided plenty of warmth. January in Mississippi was something she could get used to.

Another sip of coffee relaxed her enough to let go of her worries for a moment and take in the view. Below the deck the lawn sloped down to the water's edge. A long, sturdy pier stretched out into the lake. Trees hid the Coopers' cabin from view on one side. It was easy to imagine she was all alone on the lake. As her gaze traveled to the opposite side of the property, she saw the covered boat slip and the small shed attached. Was that the boathouse the owner had mentioned? It was tiny, too small to house a bed, she was sure.

The man—Durrant—was a good six feet tall. He must have been cramped in the little shed. He'd be eager to sleep in his own bed tonight, and she couldn't blame him. She and Elliot would have to find another place to go. Someplace cheap. But that still left the question of car repairs. She hoped it would be something simple like a battery or fan belt. Anything more she couldn't afford. Her gaze drifted back to the view, allowing her worries to slip into the back of her mind once more. Her soul craved peace like a thirsty sponge. She needed to fill up while she had the opportunity.

Movement near the water's edge drew her attention. Mr. Durrant was seated in one of the Adirondack chairs tucked between the trees. He stood, rolling his shoulders backward a couple of times, then reaching down to rub the side of one leg. Picking up a thick book from the arm of the chair, he started up the yard toward the cabin. He moved with a fluid, athletic grace, his long stride propelling him forward, but with a slight limp that piqued her curiosity and her compassion.

She was struck once again by his height. Perhaps the limp was due to sleeping in the small boathouse. The least she could do was offer him a fresh cup of coffee. He'd been generous about letting them remain in the cabin last night. He could easily have ordered them out. She stood and moved to the railing, hoping to draw his attention. He stopped and glanced up at her with an expectant expression.

She hadn't realized what an attractive man he was last night. Her first impression hadn't been good. He'd been a tall, angry man threatening her world. Today he looked friendly and approachable. “I have coffee made, if you'd like a cup.”

A small smile moved his lips. “I'll be right up.”

She was pulling a clean mug from the cupboard when he tapped on the door. She motioned him in.

“That smells great. I tried to make coffee in the boathouse, but the pot is useless. Looks like some rodent chewed through the cord.” He placed the thick book he carried at the end of the island.

The dark jeans and brown sweater he'd worn last night had been replaced with gray sweatpants and matching hooded jacket over a faded maroon college T-shirt. He was taller than she remembered, too. The angry expression was now relaxed and friendly, prompting her regrets again. “I'm sorry you had to sleep in that tiny boathouse. I'm sure it was uncomfortable.”

He looked at her over the rim of his cup. “No. It's actually bigger than you'd expect. You'll have to come and take a look. No one stays there anymore, so it's not as well equipped as the cabin. How did you sleep?”

“Better than I'd expected, considering.”

“Considering?”

Ginger clutched her mug between her hands. “We're uninvited guests. I'm sure you're eager to have your cabin to yourself. As soon as I can make other arrangements, we'll be gone. I just don't know how long that will take.”

“Yeah, well, we need to talk about that. Why don't we go out on the deck and sort this out?”

Her heart contracted. He was going to ask them to go. He'd be nice about it, but the end result would be the same. Homeless, broke and alone. Out on the deck, Ginger found the temperature had risen, and she no longer needed the throw. She took a seat in the rocker. Durrant pulled up the other one, angling it so they could talk.

She stole a quick look at him. He was a handsome man with thick brown hair that spilled over his forehead in an unruly fashion. But it was his eyes that captivated her. The bluest, clearest eyes she'd ever seen. Like a summer sky. With long lashes above high cheekbones, the angular, masculine planes of his face were softened by full lips and a chin with a slight cleft.

Despite his attractiveness, he appeared a bit gaunt, as if his frame was used to carrying more weight. The deep creases on either side of his mouth looked as if they'd been carved from pain rather than laughter. Her curiosity grew.

“Nels said your car won't start. How did you end up here at the cabins? Few people wander this far from the park or campgrounds.”

Ginger quickly explained the circumstances.

“Arizona. That's still a few days' drive from here.”

“I know. I need to be there by the end of next week at the latest. My mother has a job lined up for me. I'm hoping the car will be fixed quickly.”

“Zeke Owens runs the best garage in town. And he's honest. He won't steer you wrong.”

“That's good to know, but that's not my main concern.” No need to be coy. The situation was too dire. “Mr. Durrant, I need to be honest with you. I'm in no position to pay you back for the use of your cabin. In fact, I have no idea how I'll pay for the car repairs. I have only enough money to get me to my mother's. If it hadn't been for Nels offering your place for the night, Elliot and I would have slept in the car.” She braved a look at her host.

“Call me Ty. Mr. Durrant is my dad.”

The kindness and sympathy in his blue eyes sent a funny tingle along her skin. She took a sip of her coffee to collect herself. “Ginger. It's short for Virginia.”

“There's no one you can call for help?”

She shook her head. “My mom is on a fixed income. She sent me all she could afford.” She could see the next question forming in the man's mind and hastened to address it. “My husband died a year ago. It's only me and Elliot.”

“Mom.” Elliot came onto the deck, hurrying to his mother's side. “I'm hungry.”

She squeezed his hand, grateful for the interruption. “Good morning, sleepyhead. Well, let's see what we can do about that.”

* * *

Ty watched mother and child leave the deck, his protective instincts kicking into high gear. Alone and broke. There was no way he'd ask them to leave the cabin now. His heart sank. His prayer time this morning had strengthened him, but it was ebbing away quickly. He needed time to sort out his future. He had a big decision to make, and he couldn't do that with people in his cabin. But he couldn't toss them out, either.

Father, what are You doing? I need Your guidance and direction. I need answers.

The grinding of gears and the roar of a diesel engine invaded the quiet morning. Zeke's tow truck had arrived.

Ty walked to the stairs at the end of the deck in time to see the massive truck backing up toward the small car in front of Nels's place. He hadn't noticed the late model sedan last night. Nels was already talking to the driver, so Ty contented himself with watching. The noise must have alerted his guests because they appeared at his side. He couldn't help but notice the contrast between the shadowed concern in the mother's pretty eyes and the bright excitement in the boy's.

“Cool. I want to go see the truck.” Elliot started forward, only to be yanked back by his mother's firm grasp.

“You'll do no such thing. Stay right here.”

Ty ruffled the boy's hair, nodding at Ginger. “Go ahead. We'll sit here on the steps and watch.” He lowered himself onto the top step, gesturing for the boy to join him.

“But I can't see from here.”

“Are you kidding?” Ty nudged the boy's shoulder with his own and grinned. “This is the perfect spot. You can see everything, and you don't have to breathe in any of those stinky diesel fumes.”

Ty watched the proceedings, unable to take his eyes off Ginger as she went down to talk to Nels and the truck driver. Her body language revealed her distress. Her arms were wrapped around her waist in a protective posture. Several times she reached up to toy with a loose curl that bobbed against her right cheek. Even across the distance he could see her chewing her lip and the deepening frown on her forehead as her car was loaded onto the flatbed to be hauled away.

As she came toward him, he looked into her eyes and saw fear. His throat tightened. He recognized that look. It was the same one he saw in his own eyes each morning. Fear of the future, fear of what the next moment might bring. A fear that held you captive and challenged your belief in yourself and your ability to function. Being shot had left him paralyzed with fear. What had caused Ginger's?

He cleared his throat so he could speak. “What did he say?”

“Not much. They'll call when they know what's wrong. Oh.” Her frown deepened. “My phone is out of minutes. How will they contact me?”

“Don't worry. They know me. And I'll check with them.”

“Mom, look. There are ducks out there.”

With the tow truck gone, Elliot had returned to the deck, looking for new diversions. He leaned against the rail and pointed at the lake. Ty joined him. “Would you like to feed them?” The boy turned to look at his mother, his expression filled with hope. Ty smiled at Ginger. She could probably use some time to herself. “I keep feed near the boathouse. I won't take my eyes off him, and we'll stay on the pier. Promise.” He saw the hesitation in her eyes and knew the moment she decided he was trustworthy enough for the task.

“All right.”

* * *

Ginger finished cleaning up the kitchen, then went out onto the deck to check on her son. She'd taken advantage of Ty's offer to help Elliot feed the ducks to grab a shower and straighten up. Leaning against the deck railing, she smiled at the sight of her son tossing food into the water. His giggles lifted on the morning air, landing in the middle of her heart with a warm swell. Elliot was always so serious. Hearing his laughter was an answer to her prayers—something she was relearning how to do. After years of being angry at the Lord, it wasn't easy to ask for His guidance. She was making progress. One small prayer at a time.

Another laugh captured her attention. A deep, throaty laugh. Her gaze shifted to Ty Durrant, who was now hunkered down beside her son pointing to the water. Elliot leaned forward. Too far. Ginger started to shout for him to be careful, but before she could speak, Ty took hold of his shirt and eased him back. He glanced up, and his blue gaze collided with hers. He nodded, then tapped her son on his shoulder. Elliot waved and raced toward the cabin.

“Mom! I fed the ducks, and the fish ate some, too. And there're turtles everywhere.”

Her son's joy brought tears to her eyes, and a ray of hope to her spirits. Maybe they could find a new beginning. One where joy and laughter ruled, not anger and fear.

Ty came up onto the deck, leaving Elliot in the yard.

“Stay away from the water.”

“I will, Mom. I'm going to look for more turtles.”

Ty joined her at the railing. He'd removed his hooded jacket and pushed up the sleeves of the well-worn maroon T-shirt, revealing strong forearms. A sturdy black watch strapped across his wrist highlighted his nicely sculpted hands. She tore her gaze back to her son. “He shouldn't be down there alone.”

“He'll be okay. I told him not to go on the pier without a grown-up. Does he know how to swim?”

“No.”

“Well, the water's not deep at the edge. A foot or so. Worst he would get is wet and muddy, but I'll see if I can find a small life vest for him if it'll make you feel better.”

“It would. He's all I have left.” She could sense Ty's probing gaze assessing her.

“He's a great kid. He reminds me of my nephew. Maybe I'll get them together soon. Give Elliot someone his age to play with.”

“You have family here?”

Ty smiled and nodded. “I was raised here. My dad owns the local hardware store. My brother and his family live in Dover, and my sister has her own construction company. I'm the only one who lives out of town. And I haven't been home in a long while.”

“I'm sure they're glad you're back now.”

Ty rubbed the side of his neck. “They would be if they knew I was in town.”

Ginger turned to face him. “You didn't tell them? Why?” He turned away, resting his forearms on the railing and staring out to the water. Obviously he didn't want to discuss the issue.

“I have things I need to sort out. I can do that best alone.”

“But maybe your family could help.” If only she'd had someone to talk to, to comfort her when she'd felt so abandoned and alone, her world filled with anxiety and hopelessness

Ty shook his head, a slight smile on his face. “My dad would heap advice on my head, my mom would bake a pile of cookies and my brother and sister would harass me beyond endurance. I don't need that right now.”