The Sweetest Gift (The McKaslin Clan: Series 1 Book 2) (5 page)

That’s what hope felt like. He was glad to see the blue sky of day. Probably because he’d flown so many missions at night with danger anywhere. He felt safer, reassured, with the good old U.S.A. beneath him. The Rocky Mountains were behind him, the Cascade Range up ahead, and after an easy landing at the hospital, the little girl would get the help she needed. Mission complete.

He felt hopeful for the first time in two years. Hopeful he might finally find the peace he’d been praying for.

The child they’d picked up north of Townsend looked pretty sick to him. Her mother was in the back, a sad-faced woman with permanent worry lines grooved into her brow and around her mouth. Kirby had known both mother and daughter by name from the free clinic, she’d said, and greeted them with sincerity. She’d leaped out of the back to help board the child, so tender and careful.

Sam had hoped Kirby might get the chance to come up front and chat with him, if the situation warranted it and the child’s condition stabilized. But as the smudge of light and concrete and steel of Seattle appeared on the horizon, he figured that the opportunity had passed by. She was probably busy caring for the child and the mother’s emotional needs, too.

Maybe it was for the best.

He landed the bird, killed the engine and watched, his duty done, as medical staff appeared. They pushed an empty gurney as they came, faces grim. They wasted no time in loading the child. He wanted to help, but was wise enough to know he’d only get in the way.

He let the men and women trained to help the child do their jobs, and Kirby went with them, holding the little girl’s pale hand in hers as she ran beside the gurney. Her touch compassionate, her gentle heart visible.

It almost made a believer of him.
Almost.

The cynic in him refused to believe what his eyes saw. She looked good, but nobody was
that
good.

He thought of Kirby long after she’d disappeared from his sight. He waited, alone, as the morning lengthened and the sun shone rare and bright for Seattle in springtime.

She’d been the only vision of any kindness he’d seen in a very long time.

Kirby was surprised to see Sam Gardner reclining in the busy waiting area, a big strong hulk of a man dressed in an old T-shirt with the faded logo of the United States Army across the front of it, topped by a black leather jacket.

He’d stretched his long, jeans-encased legs out in front of him, crossed at the heels, his leather work boots unlaced, on the same floor where, a few feet away, several small children ran and shrieked and crawled around him. It didn’t appear to bother him in the least.

He spotted her a moment later, and the tension snapped back into him. His shoulders rose, his ankles uncrossed, his jaw clenched. His posture went from slack to soldier straight in two seconds flat. He looked every inch the capable pilot who had seen them safely there and saved a little girl’s life.

“How’s Sarah doing?”

“She’s stable.”

“Poor kid.” True sadness etched its way into the rugged lines of his face. “Is she gonna make it?”

“The prognosis is good, although she’s pretty sick.” Kirby ached for the little girl with leukemia who’d been her patient too many times at their hometown hospital. A medical facility, as good as it was, that didn’t have the specialists or equipment the big-city hospitals had. “We’ve brought her in before, and we probably will again.”

“I’ll keep the chariot’s tank full for her, in case she needs it.”

What a generous man. Donating his time, his helicopter and a lot of fuel, which was expensive, for a child who had no insurance. Sarah’s parents could not afford the regular medevac flights. “You’re a good man, Sam Gardner.”

“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone that. It’ll ruin my hard-earned reputation.”

He teased when the situation was serious. He turned away, as if to hide deeper emotions.

Caring was one of her requirements. So was generous.

Sam Gardner was more than he seemed. Much more.

She dug through her pockets and then her bag and unburied her cell phone. She checked it. No messages.

“Waiting for a call from your boyfriend?”

Why was he asking about a boyfriend? Was he interested? Kirby zipped the small phone into her coat pocket. “No boyfriend. I’ve been trying to find a place for Sarah’s mother to stay. There’s a Ronald McDonald House down the street, and I think there’s a chance she can stay there for a few nights.”

“I should have figured you’d do something like that.”

“Why do you say it like that, as if it’s a bad thing?”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant what don’t you do? You charm dogs and help your neighbors and volunteer for your community. Oh, and you offer medical care free to sick children and look after their families. Yep, that’s a bad thing. Shocking. You’re not a good example for me.”

“Me? What about you? You gave a needy family a free medical flight.”

“It’s just community service. It keeps my parole officer happy.”

“You don’t have a parole officer. Stop trying to act as if you aren’t a good guy. I’ve got you figured out, Sam Gardner.”

“You do? Foiled again.” He jammed his fists into his jacket pockets.

A good guy? No. He was a great man. And the list of his attributes was growing. The man next door was becoming a hero in her eyes.

Hero wasn’t on her list, but it would make a good quality in a husband.

Sam jabbed the elevator call button. “Where’s the doc?”

“Jeremiah’s going to stay with Sarah for a while. He’ll give me a call if there’s a change in her condition.”

“Do we wait for him or head back?”

“Jeremiah’s fiancée is on staff here. He’s going to stay with her for a few days, then head back on his own.”

“I guess that leaves you and me, kid.” He winked, imitating Bogie with perfection.

“Hey, that’s pretty good.”

“I am.”

Incorrigible, but he was starting to grow on her. And that was saying something. Most men never made it so high on her list. “What are you doing flying? I thought you said you were a plumber?”

“No, I said I was fixing the plumbing on my house. Two different things. You just
assumed.
Assumptions can get you into trouble.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Yep. You can’t judge a person by how he looks. And right now I hope I look hungry, because I want to find some place to eat. Wanna join me?”

The elevator doors opened, and Sam waited while she stepped into the crowded car. Kirby squeezed in, careful not to jostle a mother cradling a new baby in her arms, a pretty little girl with a headband bow that matched her rosebud-printed sleeper.

Kirby melted. Oh, what a lucky woman to have such a precious blessing in her life. She ached with longing. What sweet gifts would there be to come in her own life? She’d been patient, but it was hard waiting and wondering.

And then she felt guilty. She had so many blessings already in her life. She had sisters she loved, friends and family around her. A cozy house and a calling as a nurse. She had her health and her life and a future full of blessings yet to come.

Unlike Allison. Her oldest sister. The sister she had not been able to save. Days like this, when she was tired, when she’d been face-to-face with life and death, she thought of her sister’s blood on her hands. Of how tightly Allison had held her hand before she exhaled her last breath.

Pain ripped her in pieces, right there in the elevator, standing beside perfect strangers and one man she hardly knew. She could see her reflection in the mirrored wall panels. She looked like anyone else. No one would guess at the sorrows she held hidden inside. Her flaws. The places where she kept all her failures and her unworthiness buried. Scars no one else could see.

What about the people surrounding her? What sorrows had they had? And Sam. What about him?

The doors opened, people pushed out into the floor. Sam’s hand shot out and stopped Kirby before she could move.

“No,” he said above the familiar clatter and din from the institution’s cafeteria. “I hate hospitals. Let’s go somewhere else to eat.”

She nodded as the doors closed and the elevator descended. She could feel his sadness. She wondered who had died. They had that in common, at least. They were alone, and Sam took a step away from her, setting distance between them.

“It’s been a while since I transported a passenger I needed to worry about.” He tugged a black baseball cap out of his jacket pocket and didn’t look at her.

“Why didn’t you worry about your last passengers?”

“They were vice presidents and that kind of thing.” Sam shook out his cap before he put it on. “Why worry about someone in good health, who makes a good living? I meant the last time I flew in the military.”

“I can’t believe our government trusted you with a chopper.”

“I was your tax dollars at work.”

“I’m speechless. Should I write my congressman?”

“Many folks already have. It’s too late. I retired.”

The elevator crept to a stop and the doors parted to reveal the busy lobby. Wide windows looked out on the morning.

A beautiful morning.

“How much time do you have?” Sam led the way across the polished tile floors.

“I’m not in a hurry to get back. Why?”

He didn’t answer. He held the heavy glass doors for her, and she stepped out into the cool morning sun.

The air was filled with the hum of engines and the sounds of the nearby freeway that buzzed like a saw across the mirrored surface of the lake. She caught glittering snatches of Lake Washington peeking between buildings. Sam took off down the sidewalk. She ran to catch up with him.

“Have you ever been to Seattle before?” she asked, praying he knew where he was going.

“Yep.” That was all he said, just a terse answer and nothing else as he hooked a right at the corner and kept walking, straight through crowds of people who parted like the Red Sea as he advanced.

To her surprise, he didn’t open a door to one of the many delis and coffee shops lining the sidewalk, but waved to hail a cab.

“Your chariot, my lady. I hope you’re ready for an adventure.” He leaned close enough for her to breathe in the spicy aftershave he wore. The low intimate dip in his voice made her look at him twice.

Made her hope.

It just went to show that a girl never knew where her path would take her. Or when Mr. Right might walk into her life. Was it Sam? She would have to wait and see.

T
he streets of Seattle crept by as they inched through the crowded downtown. Kirby felt small on the street at the base of so many tall buildings reaching for the cloud-strewn sky. Where was he taking her? She was going to enjoy every minute of this adventure.

“This is it.” Sam shoved a handful of ones at the driver, climbed out and held the door for her.

The wind was cool and briny from glittering Puget Sound. The sidewalks were busy with commuters hurrying from their parking garages or their bus stops to one of the many skyscrapers that marched through the core of the city. Thousands of windows blazed with the golden light of the new day.

“Hurry, we can make the light.” Sam touched her elbow, guiding her in the direction of the corner where the “don’t walk” sign flashed red, and other pedestrians hurried with them in a final dash across the street.

Where were they headed? To one of the little shops with cheerful front windows advertising breakfast fare, or the bigger restaurants with iron tables and chairs set out so patrons could enjoy the water view?

As they passed by coffee shops and cafés and bakeries, the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked pastries and strong enticing coffee nearly killed her. She was really getting hungry.

“I’m hungry, too,” Sam said to her, as if he’d read her thoughts. Or shared them. “The wait will be worth it. I give you my word of honor.”

“It better be. I know where you live.”

They swept around a corner and saw the ferry terminal hunched on the waterfront. A big white-and-green ferry waited meekly at the pier, car after car rolling onto the street. People spilled down the gangplank, hurrying with their briefcases and packs and cups of coffee. This
wasn’t
what she’d expected.

“Two, please.” Sam pushed a twenty at the woman behind the glass partition, grabbed his change and both tickets. “Have you ever ridden a ferry?”

“No. But you have,” she guessed.

“Yep. I grew up around here.”

He was a Seattle boy, huh? She didn’t picture him in a city. He had the relaxed confidence men raised in the country had.

“C’mon, this way.” He headed up the plank, shouldering through the oncoming pedestrians.

She had no choice but to follow him. The man who brazened through the trickle of straggling shorebound pedestrians as if they ought to get out of his way. Was he always this bossy? That was not an attribute on her checklist for the perfect husband.

When they were at the top of the walkway and she was out of breath, she leaned against the cold iron rail. “You have this incredibly annoying habit.”

“Only one?”

“You act as though you’re in charge.”

“That’s because I
am
in charge.” A dimple cut into his cheeks as he jammed both fists into his jacket pockets. “Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.”

Why did her heart turn over like that? His melted-chocolate voice, the steady sincerity in his gaze, the way he towered over her, blocking her view of the sky and the city. He was all she could see. Bigger than life and every one of her girlhood dreams of what a man should be.

And he was here, beside her. What did she do with him? She took a step past him and headed for the main passenger lobby. “In good hands? You’re not an insurance agent. I don’t think I ought to trust you.”

“It’s not too late to turn back. The ferry is still at dock.” He held the door for her, and his arm brushed her shoulder as she passed. “I notice you’re not leaving. Decided I’m a safe risk after all?”

“No. I figure if I wind up missing they’ll know who to interrogate first.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. I’m impervious to pain, thanks to prisoner-of-war school.”

“Let me guess. You led a daring escape.”

“Naturally. I’m always the boss.”

“See? You admitted it.” She chose a seat next to the window and collapsed into it.

It felt good to be off her feet. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the letdown after the adrenaline rush of working to keep Sarah’s condition stable and the little girl as comfortable as possible on the flight. She’d never been like this with any man.

She was normally shy, but Sam brought out the real her. “I don’t like domineering men.”

“Hey, I’m not domineering. I’m not making you do a thing. You could have stayed at the hospital, but you’re with me voluntarily.” He settled into the seat next to her, too big for the plastic frame, and his steely shoulder bumped into hers and remained, hard and unyielding.

“Voluntarily? You’re my ride back home. If I lose you, then I have to hoof it, and it’s a long walk back to Montana.”

“What? You won’t have to walk anywhere. With your good looks, beautiful, you can charm any pilot from here to California.”

Had she heard him right? Reeling, Kirby turned to the window, her mind spinning. Had he called her beautiful? No one had ever said that to her.

She was plain. She knew that. But the man meant to love her, the one God made especially for her, wouldn’t think she was plain.

No. He would think there was something special about her. That’s the way true love went, right?

So either Sam Gardner needed a serious eye exam or he was simply being charming or he earned another check mark on her list.

“By the way—” he leaned close so his words were a warm tickle against her ear “—we’re going to the best bakery ever.”

“How do you know? Have you gone to every bakery in the world?”

His eyes twinkled at her. “Yes.”

“Liar.”

“You’re awfully sassy for such a nice girl. My aunt was all wrong about you.”

“Why? Just because I question you doesn’t mean I’m a bad person.”

“A good person would agree with me.”

“You’re impossible—has anyone ever told you that?”

“All the time, but I’ve got you laughing. You don’t look as sad as you did in the hospital. You have history with little Sarah, don’t you?”

“Sarah’s been a patient of mine over the last few years. I’m doing shift work, whenever I can, until my new job starts, and I took care of Sarah in the peds unit. I also volunteer at the free clinic and saw her there, too. She’s had a hard time.”

“But she has you to take care of her. She seemed happy to see you. You were a comfort to her.”

“I was a friendly face.”

Much more than that, Sam thought. He ached—his body, his heart, his soul. Not with a physical pain, but an emotional one. And how was that possible?

How had Kirby gotten past the titanium walls protecting his heart? She was making him feel, and he didn’t like it. Life was easier when he accepted what was and didn’t try to look for the impossible. For the good.

He was a faithful man. He believed in God, he believed in grace, he believed in heaven and the goodness there. But here, on earth? No, he was too disillusioned to even try.

What about Kirby? What was she doing to him? And why was he letting her affect him?

He hopped to his feet. He couldn’t sit still. He stretched in the wide aisle, the dozens and dozens of seats and booths empty as the ferry rumbled, ready to set sail.

Outside, the endless blue waters of the sound gleamed—as perfect as a sheet of blue diamonds. Sam saw the amethyst mountains and emerald foothills and the crystal brilliance of the city where he used to live with his wife. When he’d believed he’d find a good life with the woman he loved.

When he’d been captured, all he’d thought about, all he’d prayed for, the only thing that had kept him going was to see her again. To be with her. To hold her in his arms and never let go. To finally have a place where he belonged.

The ferry bumped to a start, jarring him out of his memories, away from the dark and into the light of the present. The big bulky ship chugged as slowly as a tugboat away from the dock and into the impressive waters. Another ferry, packed with commuters, passed them by, ready to dock.

Once they were on their way, the water stretched ahead of them like paradise.

Paradise wasn’t meant for a man like him. Wasn’t that clear to him by now? After all he’d been through?

“Come on, let’s see if we can spot any dolphins.” He didn’t look at her. He wasn’t sure she was following him.

He led the way through the glass doors and onto the unprotected deck where the wind stung like ice, but it was such a wonderful and free feeling to cling to the railing and watch the ferry slice through the water.

Sam hung over the railing just enough to see into the ocean far below. “No dolphins. Maybe once we’re farther out.”

“I have this irresistible urge to give you a little shove.”

He chuckled, straightened. His dark eyes tried to sparkle, but they were shadowed. Troubled. “You’re not nearly as nice as you look, Kirby McKaslin. Maybe I have a few irresistible urges of my own.”

“I know how to swim.” She gripped the rail, knowing full well that he’d never toss her over. Her chin shot up, so he knew she wasn’t afraid of him. “I used to be a certified lifeguard. That’s how I put myself through college.”

“As a lifeguard? Did you teach little kids to swim?”

“Yes, and I loved it. I was teaching those children a valuable skill, one that could save their lives one day.”

“I was a lifeguard, too.” That amused him, that he and Florence Nightingale had that in common. They were about as different as he figured they could be. “I lifeguarded afternoons and weekends when I was a teenager. It kept me out of trouble and put my energy into something constructive. I worked the beaches just over there.”

He gestured to the span of public beach west of the city, which was rapidly gliding past them as the tongues and islands of land surrendered to the powerful Puget Sound.

“It makes you sad to remember that.” Gentle those words. Her hand covered his with a warm, assuring touch.

He could feel the comfort flow from her to him, from her tender heart to his well-defended one. It startled him. Troubled him.

He was a tough guy. He didn’t need comfort. He didn’t need to turn to a woman who would only let him down in the end.

Then why couldn’t he seem to make his hand move away from hers? He was a fully functioning male. He had control of his limbs and digits. He could command his fingers. So why was her hand still on his, satin soft and delicately boned and consoling?

He watched the distant shores drift past. Was he sad? “Yep. My dad died from pneumonia when I was five. It was rough. We had some very hard times. My mom was on her own, and I was a latchkey kid. I’d come home to our apartment after school, and I didn’t like the empty feeling when I got there. So I went out and hung around with a not so good crowd.”

She might as well know the truth about him. Know that he’d never been a Boy Scout. He wasn’t a good guy who flew volunteer flights out of the goodness of his pristine, perfect Christian heart. In too many ways he was still serving his country, doing what he could to make a difference.

That
didn’t make him altruistic.

No, just the opposite. He was deeply flawed, and when Kirby figured that out, she’d either think she could try to heal him and save him or she’d keep her distance from him.

It was fine. He could handle it. He was prepared. He’d never let her close enough to hurt him.

“You probably have a charmed life, though, so you don’t know what it’s like to be surrounded by sad memories. That’s why I don’t live here.”

She pulled her hand away and swiped windblown hair out of her eyes. Maybe he was imagining it, but she looked sad, too. Her mouth thinned into a tight, hard line. “Maybe I do know about that. Maybe my life hasn’t been charmed.”

“I hear you come from a good family with money and one of the best ranches in the county. Ruth waxes on about what fine people the McKaslins are. You were probably cheerleader and homecoming queen.”

“No, but my four sisters were.”

“Not you?” He said the words kindly, as if he knew what it was like to be lost.

“I’ve known sadness.” She stared hard into the water, as if that would make her confession come more easily. “My oldest sister, Allison, died in a plane accident several years ago. It was a private plane headed for a Christian retreat. The Cessna had mechanical trouble and went down.”

I was on that plane, too,
she meant to say. But the words didn’t come.

“I’m truly sorry.” He took her hand and held hard, tight, protective.

That single day had been the worst of her life. She had the scars to prove it. Physical and emotional. “Nothing has been the same since.
I’m
not the same.”

She blinked hard, staring deep into the water churning and swirling around the boat’s iron hull. No one could possibly know the depth of her grief. Or her guilt. Some nights she woke up with a loss too wide to fill. Prayer hadn’t closed it. Not thousands of prayers.

“Sometimes,” she told him, “people aren’t what you think.”

“No. Sometimes they are a good deal more.”

Sam liked her. He really did. Kirby was beautiful, not in a stunning-supermodel way. Not in an every-hair-in-place, makeup-done-just-so kind of way.

No, her beauty was subtle, the way the dawn came in the far north. So quiet, you had to listen and watch for it. But when it came, the unassuming light glowed like grace over a frozen world. It made a man’s heart fill and brim over.

And she didn’t seem to know that’s what she was. That’s what she did to him.

She swept stray locks of hair out of her eyes with a slender hand. He remembered the gentleness she’d shown to little Sarah. Kirby’s sensitive healing hands had taken care of so many sick and dying.

And she had her own hardships, her own losses. He’d misjudged her. Underestimated her. What strength she had. What kindness.

He hadn’t resisted the sudden urge to take her fingers in his. Smaller and more fragile, her hand fit in his palm.

She was as soft as spring rain, that sweet drizzle that made the leaves bud and the grass grow and the flowers dare to bloom. When he touched her, that’s how she affected him. As if there was hope for him. For the permanent winter in his soul.

And he knew better.

That’s why he placed her hand gently on the rail and turned away, strangely aching, and searched the waters for those elusive dolphins.