The Sweetest Gift (The McKaslin Clan: Series 1 Book 2) (6 page)

He did not touch her again.

As the girl behind the cash register handed her a pastry and a steaming tall raspberry mocha with whipped cream in a pretty paper cup, Kirby had to wonder. Had she done or said something to upset Sam?

After paying for their food, he turned and walked away from her without a single word. Not “I’ll find us a table” or “That muffin sure looks good.” Nothing polite or casual.

He’d joked with her this morning and during the first part of the ferry ride, but now he was distant and silent. Had she offended him in some way?

Maybe she ought to add this to her list of desirable characteristics: does not act in a confusing manner.

Kirby balanced the big cup of coffee and her enormous croissant on a pretty stoneware plate and followed Sam. He was already seated, his coat slung over the back of the empty chair beside him, head bowed as he muttered a silent grace. Then he gathered the croissant egg-and-cheese sandwich with both hands and bit into it like a starving man.

She stared at him. She hadn’t imagined it. He’d said grace. He was a man of faith?

“Sorry, I should have waited,” he apologized when she joined him, “but I’m half-dead with hunger. Ready to drop at any minute. You’d have to administer a coffee IV straight into my arm to revive me.”

“Don’t rely on me. I’m just as hungry and exhausted as you are. I’m ready to fall face first onto my plate.”

“You look about as beat as I feel.”

“I think the adrenaline is wearing off.” She bowed her head, uttered a brief grace and reached for her double mocha. Espresso slid over her tongue and down her throat. Yep, that was just what she needed.

“If heaven has a bakery, then this one is it,” he said between bites. “It’s good to know there will be pastry in the afterlife.”

Kirby took a bite of her cheese croissant. Buttery flakes fell apart on her tongue, crepe thin and sheer perfection. As exquisite as the food was, she was more drawn to the man across the table.

A man of faith? She could see it in him. There was a serious side to this man who liked to make her laugh. A very serious side.

“The view is heavenly, too,” he said as he dug in to his second croissant sandwich.

Kirby’s tension drained away at the soft lull of the waves on the shore below, just outside the window. A beautiful place. The beach was rocky, and evergreens grew right up to the shore. The waning sunlight gleamed like polished glass on the moody gray waves. A big white-and-green ferry, the same one they’d ridden in on, honked long and loud, then eased away from the dock, loaded with cars and passengers headed toward Seattle.

“It must be a nice way to live. To commute by ferry.” She tried to imagine it for herself, but couldn’t. She wouldn’t want to live anywhere but in Montana.

“This is the view I kept in my head when I needed to remember why I thought joining the army was a good idea. When I was being shot at. I used to tell myself I would come here, when I retired, and live near the water in peace.”

“Did you?”

“Not the peace part.”

“Do you think you’ll be happy in a small town in Montana?” Kirby looked around her, at the bustling city and its inviting skyscrapers and every entertainment under the sun—theater and universities and museums.

“I have a helicopter. I can fly anywhere I want. I like Montana. It has a lot of good qualities I wouldn’t trade for anything. Like wide-open spaces. Sincere people. Clean air. A quiet neighborhood.”

“The downside is moving in next to me.”

“I’ll suffer through, somehow. Except one thing is going to be intolerable, and I might as well get it off my chest now. If we’re going to be neighbors, I don’t think I can take much more of this.”

“Of what?” She looked sincere, caring and concerned. As if she would fix whatever it was, if she could.

It was wrong to tease her, but he couldn’t help it. She brought out the worst in him. “There’s this odor wafting over the fence.”

“Are you saying my yard stinks?”

“That’s what I’m saying, and it’s only going to get worse when those long green stem things start to bloom. If I see one rose peeking over the fence into my yard, I’m going to kill it. Deadhead it right there. I’m a man, and I have a man’s yard and I’m not putting up with dainty little roses peeking over the fence to mock me.” He winked and polished off the last of his sandwich.

There
was the Sam she knew and liked. Glad he was no longer so quiet and distant, she did her best to rise to the occasion. “Why, will a few pretty flowers diminish your value as a man?”

“Absolutely. Leo and I don’t do flowers. Unless I forget to pull weeds and they bloom.”

“That’s too bad. I was going to offer you some of my cuttings. Oh, and I have the cutest little stepping stones. I have extra, if you’d like them.”

“Please. Stepping stones. What I need is a big hammock. Maybe an extra refrigerator on the deck so I don’t have to go inside to grab a soda.”

“Plus, it will be handy when you have your band members and biker-gang friends over for a backyard music jam.”

“Good idea.” He was really starting to like her. It had been a long time since a woman had come along who could make him laugh.

This was the problem with getting to know someone. At first glance, she looked a certain way and he could make assumptions about how she was. If he hadn’t been with her through the night and into this morning, he would have thought she was like one of those perfect girls on TV sitcoms, the kind that had no real troubles. Not ones that couldn’t be resolved in thirty minutes, anyway.

That wasn’t Kirby. He was close enough to see the faint lines in the corners of her eyes and by her mouth made by sadness. The furrows in her brow that told him she had plenty of worries. She had known sorrow.

Yet she was strong and self-sufficient. She had her own house, her own car and a nursing degree. In her spare time she saved little girls’ lives, and when she smiled it was a wholesome beauty he saw. The genuine thing.

It wasn’t so easy not to care about her now.

He stared at the window, troubled. The lap of water on the shore, an eternal rhythm, one from the start of time, should have by all rights comforted him.

It didn’t.

He felt flawed next to her. A wounded soul who was too tarnished to be near her. The food in his mouth turned to sand and he stood and pushed out of his chair.

He walked away without an explanation. Left his jacket and his wallet on the table, and his coffee steaming. Kirby watched him with big startled eyes as he pushed out the door and into the cool wind from off the water.

He stood at the shoreline and let the wind beat at him and the sound of the restless water pull at him until it subdued all the pain.

Did she approach him? Or did she wait for him to come back on his own? She had no clue what to do as she hesitated on the steep bank. The wind kicked up and she shivered.

He looked so alone as the storm rolled in, a solitary figure surrounded by a world of gray. He stood like a warrior of old, feet apart, spine straight, shoulders back, head up, as the rain came in a fine curtain of darker gray.

Well, he certainly couldn’t stand out here in this weather without a coat. As if the elements had decided for her, Kirby tripped down the rocky slope, careful not to spill the coffees she held or drop the bakery sack or her heavy shoulder bag.

Behind her, car tires whispered on the damp pavement and a few shoppers dashed to their parked vehicles, splashing through the already building puddles. Women chatted through the wind and rain as they unlocked their SUVs. The world around her felt normal and connected.

And the man on the beach was set apart. Alone. Isolated.

Sad. That’s how he seemed to her as she waded toward him through the shifting dirt and rocks beneath her sneakers. The water, as gray as the clouds and as pensive, lapped at his boots. He was wet from the rain.

“Sam?” She wasn’t sure he’d heard her over the growing storm. She stepped closer.

He had to have heard her, but he remained as still as a statue. She could feel his pain like the rain on her skin. “Sam?”

“Yeah. I know. The ferry’s getting ready to leave. Guess we should go.”

He sounded distant, as if he wasn’t really there. Overhead thunder crashed, a metallic sound that rumbled through the clouds for miles, echoing like gunfire.

He closed his eyes, swiped his hand over his face, wiping away the wet drops from the rain. He looked ghost pale, and his eyes were so dark, it was as if he’d shuttered his heart and soul completely.

He wasn’t okay, and she hurt for him. With him.

As if he were dead inside, he took the coat she offered and shrugged into it. He didn’t bother to zip up as the wind lashed him. She pressed a coffee cup into his hand.

“Are you too good to be true?”

“Hardly. I had selfish motivations.”

“You, selfish?”

“Sure. I figure if I have another double latte, that will be enough caffeine to keep me awake until we get back home.”

“And you wanted the pilot to have a double shot, too.”

“Triple, just in case you were sleepy. You look tired.”

“I’m always tired—don’t worry about it. And I’ve flown birds more tired than this and lived to tell the tale. Between the demanding special ops I flew and the worry over them before and after, I lived on adrenaline.”

“Well, live on caffeine and keep us safe.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her.

“Special ops, huh? I can’t believe they trusted you with an expensive helicopter. Don’t those cost like millions of dollars? And they let
you
on board one?”

“On board? I got to fly those babies. Oh, yeah. I flew a Pave Low. Any target, any place and back.”

“So piloting our medical flight has to be pretty boring for you, when you’re used to flying in danger.”

“I’ve had enough danger to last me a lifetime. I’m content enough with a quiet life, and the chance to do some good. Which reminds me, has that little phone of yours rung?”

She dug it out of the inside pocket in her bag and squinted at the screen. “Nope. No message. I’ll give Jeremiah a call once we’re in the terminal.”

“Yeah. I sure hope that little girl will be all right.”

“Me, too.” She had to walk fast to keep up with his long-legged stride. “The chance to do some good, huh? You can’t be as bad as you make yourself out to be.”

“I’m bad to the bone.” He winked, far too cocky, but she didn’t miss the shadow in his eyes, the sadness in his voice, the way he pulled away from her, keeping his distance.

From her? Or from anyone?

Who was this man? At first she’d thought he was a plumber, then a volunteer pilot. Now he was a lost soul, shrouded with rain.

Why had the Lord brought him into her life? She couldn’t help asking the question as he led the way down the sidewalk and to the covered walkway into the terminal. The commuter traffic had dwindled, so there were just the two of them on the quiet section of the ferry where Sam chose a seat.

He stared out the rain-smeared window and felt a dozen light years away.

“M
y dear boy, you are coming to Sunday dinner,” Aunt Ruth said, and it was not a question. That was a command if he’d ever heard one.

“Let me think about it. I may have to be out at the office tomorrow. Someone has to keep things running smoothly.”

“I know you’ve got your hands full between running that airport and repairing the house, but Sunday is the Lord’s day.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll be there. What’s in it for me?”

Ruth’s chuckle filled the cordless phone’s receiver. “Food, nutritious food, that’s what. I know you bachelors don’t take time to cook a decent meal.”

“Why cook when there’s takeout?”

“On Sunday! We’ll have home cooked, and I’m taking no prisoners—isn’t that the saying? You’d better be here and I mean it.” Enjoying her new role as the commander, Ruth wished him a good night and broke the connection.

His fondness for her remained, warm and certain. It was good to have family ties. Someone to fuss over him. To care for him.

And cook for him. He sure liked the sound of that.

His gaze drifted to the window, where Kirby’s house was visible in the warm rain. A nap had cleared his sleep-deprived mind, but it hadn’t driven away the confusion.

He’d sure had fun talking with her this morning. She made him laugh. And for a little while he hadn’t felt alone. How wrong was that? He
had
to be alone. There was no other choice.

When he’d buried Carla, he’d given up on relationships. He didn’t have the strength to go through that again. People hid their deep flaws and showed the good stuff. And that could cause a whole lot of heartache.

What about Kirby? Well, she was the shining exception. He’d expected her to be less than she appeared, but she was more. She’d opened up to him and shown him a part of her she kept private.

Okay, she was still too good to be true, right? She had to be, because he wasn’t about to start questioning everything again.

It was easier just to keep his heart closed, and all the loss and pain and vulnerability that went with it. Closed off tight, and locked out of sight. To accept the lessons he’d learned from Carla. The goodness in a person was not stronger than the bad. His hard-won philosophy of life.

A philosophy he’d tried to put aside this morning on the rainy beach, and couldn’t.

He swore the rain had followed them all the way from Seattle. He’d kept ahead of the weather by the skin of his teeth, flying low and fast. Once they’d touched down on Montana soil, Kirby had gone her way, and he his.

He’d been exhausted, and so had she. Maybe that’s why they hadn’t spoken on the return flight or as she walked away from him in the parking lot in search of her car.

He’d thought about her all day.

There she was, zipping along the street in her car. Pulling into the driveway with the same careful grace she did everything. Her hair was yanked back into a ponytail, the way he liked it, and shone like burnished gold. Amazing.

Why had she gotten beneath his skin?

Oh, that was an easy answer. Because she was beautiful, smart, capable and compassionate. Not your average, everyday, run-of-the-mill kind of woman.

Well, he couldn’t stand around thinking about her all day. It was late enough that there was no sense driving down to the office. Maybe he’d start work on patching the numerous and varied holes in the walls from the previous tenant.

He had a lot of work to do before he’d have this house the way he wanted it. New paint, new fixtures, new windows, a new furnace. He even planned on rewiring.

He was halfway down the stairs to the basement, where his tools and supplies were, when Leo’s happy bark resounded through the house. The floorboards overhead groaned with the force of his weight as the dog ran from bedroom to front door. He sounded like a herd of charging dragons, breathing fire and in serious need of claw trimmings.

Whoever was on his step and about to ring the bell had better not be Ruth. He didn’t want her seeing what had happened to her house. Not until he had it patched, painted and polished, anyway. He dashed back up the steps, already plotting ways to keep her from crossing the threshold, when the dulcet music of the old doorbell echoed through the house.

Leo went nuts, bouncing off the windowsill and howling with delight. He was more gentlemanly around Ruth, so that meant only one woman could be standing on their front step.

“Calm down, boy.” Not surprised at all, he saw
her
through the glass.

Kirby McKaslin, protected by a cheerful red raincoat, smiled up at him from beneath the oversize hood. Fatigue darkened the skin beneath her eyes, but she sure looked good. The freckles on her nose stood out, probably because she wasn’t wearing any makeup. He liked those freckles. They made her look beyond cute. Endearing.

He grabbed Leo by the collar and opened the door.

The rottweiler lunged, thrilled beyond his doggy self-control apparently. It took a second order for him to sit still, the way a gentleman, even a young and eager one, should.

“Look what blew onto my front porch,” Sam said. “A pretty lady carrying what looks like food.”

“Looks like.” She gestured to the bulging white sack she cradled in one arm and to a cardboard drink tray. “I’ve come bearing good news and doughnuts.”

“You’ve said the magic password—doughnut. You may enter.” He held wide the door for her, hearing the old furnace wheeze on in a pathetic attempt to warm them. A failed attempt.

And it was a good thing he had a fire going in the fireplace, because it looked as if Kirby was shivering. Cold and tired. He knew how that felt, so he moved close.

She smelled like apples and cinnamon and rain. The curled ends of her ponytail brushed his knuckles as he helped her out of her raincoat. The fabric rustled, a couple of rain droplets tapped to the bare hardwood floor and he felt terrified and excited and alive all at once.

Exactly the same way he’d felt when he’d taken his first night flight. Adrenaline-pumping, mind-racing speed through the darkness.

Wow.
He hung her coat off the back of the wooden chair—the only furniture in the room—near the hearth. His hands shook so hard he nearly dropped the garment twice. What was that? What was she doing to him?

“Sit. Get warm.” Did that sound like an order? He cleared his throat. Only then did he notice she held something else. A bright pink leash, and it was attached to her dog’s collar.

How could he have not noticed she’d brought her cocker spaniel? It just went to show how much she affected him.

“Hello there, little one.” He knelt to welcome Jessie.

The little dog came up to him politely and nudged his hand, eager to be petted. A sweet girl, like her owner.

“I almost hated to ring the bell. I was afraid you were sleeping. But with the way Leo was barking even before I reached the porch, I figured I might as well. Who could sleep through that racket?” Kirby leaned to unsnap her dog’s leash and laughed when Leo swiped his tongue across her face in an ambush kiss.

“You’re an awful popular lady in these parts,” he told her as he grabbed Leo’s collar. He sent the rottweiler to the kitchen, and watched as the gentle cocker spaniel waddled after him. A few seconds later he heard the unmistakable sound of dogs crunching on dog food.

“Does this mean they’re best friends?” Kirby asked.

“It must be. Friends share food. I think it’s a rule. And speaking of food.” He couldn’t hold off another second, so he grabbed the bakery bag. Just what he thought. The sweet fragrance of doughnut, chocolate and custard made his knees weak. “Darlin’, you have made my day.”

“I thought you might like ’em.”

“I was bummed because I didn’t go back in that bakery and get myself some chocolate doughnuts to go. You remembered.”

“I couldn’t resist. Besides, anyone who gets up in the middle of the night to fly a sick child across two states deserves to have a custard-filled doughnut.”

He couldn’t believe her thoughtfulness. How could he doubt it? The proof was in his hands. “You are my favorite person ever.”

“I’m glad. Hey, give me one of those. I’ve been dying to try them, but I didn’t sneak even a tiny bite. I waited to share them with you.”

“I guess this means we’re like our dogs.”

“We are?” A quick flash of confusion, and then she beamed, all soft golden beauty. “We’re friends. Yes, I think we are. Whether we like it or not.”

“We’ll just have to suffer through the doughnuts and a friendship. Sad.” He held out the bag and offered her first choice.

“Terrible. I think I can put up with you for a friend,” she said as she chose the top doughnut and wrapped it in a napkin because it was pretty sticky. “If you pay me enough.”

“Sorry, I’ve already got my budget for this month set. I’ll put you down for next month?”

“Perfect. I’ll wait to be friendly to you then. My offer of pastries is null and void.” Why did she love teasing him so much? “Give me back that doughnut.”

“Too late. Sorry.” He bit down, and his eyes rolled back in his head. He moaned deep in his throat. “Oh, that’s good.”

“It’s only a doughnut,” she said, and bit into hers. Chocolate delighted her tongue. The crisp cake was sweet as sugar, and the rich creamy custard filling made her eyes water. It
was
so good.

“Did I tell you? When I die, I’m saying to St. Peter, ‘I tried really hard to be good. Now, where are the doughnuts’?”

“What about your harp and halo?”

“How would I look with a harp and halo?” He shook his head. “No, my head would look big, and I have no musical talent at all. But there’s one thing I excel at. Doughnut eating.”

“Heaven will be the better for it.” She helped herself to a cup of coffee, a warm latte that chased the last of the chill from her bones. “Oh, I heard from Jeremiah.”

“How’s little Sarah?”

“She’s improving, but still serious. It’s been hard, because she needs a bone-marrow transplant to get well, but no one in her family is a match.”

“She has to wait for a donor match?”

“Yes, and who knows how long that will take?” Sometimes there was so little she could do, Kirby felt useless.

Sam stared into the dying fire. “Little kids shouldn’t have to be sick.”

“I agree. It’s sad. All things have their seasons and their reasons—isn’t that the saying? Maybe it will soon be Sarah’s season to get well.” She prayed it with all her heart.

Sam grabbed a chunk of split wood from the pile off to the side of the hearth. He was a big and strong man, a little rough looking and unpolished, but what a good heart he must have. What trials, she wondered, had he endured?

She remembered Ruth’s words.
He’s had a hard life, the poor man.
What had happened to him?

He knelt before the fire, pushed back the screen and placed the logs into the flames. Maybe it was the way the dancing light, golden and glowing, haloed him. Burnished the fall of his short hair and gilded his impressive strength.

What a man. Kirby felt as if she’d been lifted out of her chair and onto a cloud. She’d never felt like this before. Weightless and tingling and happy.

Unaware, he grabbed the iron poker and nudged the newly burning pieces of wood into place “What about you? What’s the story on Kirby McKaslin? My inquiring mind wants to know.”

“Inquiring? What about you? I’m much more interested in you.”

“We’ve talked about me. I told you lots of stuff this morning. Now it’s your turn.”

“I’m boring. There’s nothing to tell.”

“Sure there is. Why aren’t you married, or at least engaged?”

“I’m not going to tell you about my interpersonal disasters.”

“Hit a nerve, did I?” He hung the utensil on the hook in the brick wall and stole the last chocolate frosted doughnut from the bag. “Was he your high school sweetheart?”

“No, was yours?”

“We’re talking about you, remember?” He sat on the floor and got comfortable. “Are you too chicken to answer my question?”

“No. Embarrassed.” She ran her fingertip around the edge of her coffee cup. Did she tell him? If he were interested in her, then how could she withhold the truth? “I’m not married because no one’s ever asked me.”

“No one? Nope, I don’t believe it. How could someone like you never have a relationship get that serious?”

“What do you mean, someone like me?” Her eyes widened, and in those deep blue irises Sam saw the real Kirby. So vulnerable and alone.

Just like him.

Did she fear he’d hurt her about this? “You are good and kind. You have your own house and a good job. Why wouldn’t a good man want you?”

Her gaze clouded and she looked away. Her mouth curled down and she frowned.

He’d said the wrong thing. Well, he could fix that. He’d keep talking until he said something right. “You have a lot to offer a man.”

“Equity and a good paycheck?” She tried to make it a joke, but couldn’t quite do it.

“No, I meant you are a woman with a lot going for her. You’ve proven you work hard and honestly. You have a caring heart. And you’re beautiful. Do you know that?”

She stared hard into the bottom of her coffee cup. “You’re my friend. You have to say nice things.”

“I’m not your friend yet, remember? You’re not on the budget until next month.”

She blinked hard. Took another sip of coffee.

“Tell me the real reason you aren’t married,” he asked again.

The honest one, she knew he meant. Her vision was still a little blurry, so she blinked again, trying to focus. In case Sam was interested in her, he might as well know how she felt. “Because I don’t want to settle. I want to marry the right man for me. He has to be out there somewhere, don’t you think? My soul mate. My one true love.”

“You believe in true love?”

It sounded corny. She knew. But that didn’t mean it was impossible. True love did happen. Her older sister Karen had found it. Plenty of friends she knew had found their someone special.

“I was like you once.” Sam sounded thoughtful as he got up and paced the room. The old floorboards creaked and groaned beneath his weight as he moved.

“
You
believed in true love?”