The Sweetest Gift (The McKaslin Clan: Series 1 Book 2) (8 page)

“What are you doing playing hooky?” she asked as she snapped the leash into place.

“The airport runs itself for the most part. That’s the beauty of it. I can work when I need to, but take off when I want. What? Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you think I could be more industrious. I worked long and hard for twelve years in the military. The corporate job I had, I was never home. I figure after sixteen years of working nonstop, I’ve earned a little time when I want it.”

“Hey, I didn’t say you hadn’t.”

Leo took off with an eager lunge, and her polite cocker spaniel followed him. She tried to fall in step with Sam on the sidewalk. But he took off in a fast march like a soldier taking point.

“I’ve always wondered what you do in your spare time, when you’re not saving sick kids or flying off on a mission of mercy. Now I know. You grow roses and walk your dog.”

“Speaking of curiosity, everyone is wondering about the mysterious stranger come to town with his expensive new helicopter and the dog he takes just about everywhere.”

“I have two choppers. A man needs his play toys to be happy.”

“Oh, so you go up in the sky to play? Sure. Don’t we all.”

“What? You don’t like flying?”

“I don’t mind it except for the small fact that the ground is so far away.”

Sam checked traffic at the curb, but Leo had already decided the coast was clear, touched his nose to Jessie’s and protectively paraded across the street. He was a good dog. Sam felt no small bit of pride in that. God had blessed him with a best friend, a companion to fill the loneliness of his life.

He would be forever grateful, because the truth was, he’d never consider marrying again.

Kirby knew that. Right? She wasn’t looking at him in that way as she had when they’d first met. As if she were sizing him up as a potential suitor. Nope, she hardly even looked at him as she power-walked beside him, struggling to keep up. And he was holding Leo back, too.

“Slow down, boy.” He chuckled when Leo tossed a questioning look over his shoulder. Yeah, he knew, they were going more slowly than their normal pace, but this was no normal walk. The little spaniel was wearing herself out.

It was companionable, even at what Sam considered a snail’s pace. The shade from the trees lining the sidewalk was pleasant. The neighborhood was tidy, the cozy houses well kept and surrounded with picket fences and flowers and well-maintained lawns.

Peace. Contentment. He’d come a long way to find it, and had fought long and hard to be here. In this place in his life. He’d lived through hell and back in his career. He’d lost his heart in his marriage. He still had his soul, and that’s why he was here. Drinking in the soothing sunlight like water, letting it warm him. Reminding him that God made good on His promises. There were bad times, but the good ones always came. And they were all the sweeter.

Leo leaped across the street—there was no traffic, Sam knew, as he’d already checked—and off came the leash. With a hop and a bark the rottweiler took off at a dead run, then turned to look over his shoulder expectantly.

“I know, I’m not fast enough for you.” Sam yanked the throw toy out of his jeans back pocket and hurled the orange bone hard. It flew end over end through the streaks of sunshine among the old maples ringing the children’s play area and into the open green grass. Leo bounded in glee after it.

Kirby had knelt to unsnap her spaniel’s leash. The polite little creature wagged her little stub of a tail, eager to join in the fun, but obedient. What gentleness, Sam thought, watching. Kirby ran her slim, sensitive fingers over her dog’s back. “There you go. What a good girl you are.”

The spaniel touched her nose to Kirby’s in obvious adoration before she turned tail and leaped toward Leo, who was returning with the toy clamped between his powerful teeth. Leo strutted, proud of his remarkable fetching skills.

“Can I pet the doggie?” A cute little girl about knee-high toddled away from the play area. Her mother came running up.

“He’s good with kids,” he told the woman.

Since Leo was a fan of receiving attention from adoring females, he sat and looked as handsome as possible while the little girl stroked her small hand down his front leg.

“His name is Leo and this is Jessie,” Kirby said as she knelt beside Leo and showed the child how to caress the top of the dog’s head.

Leo preened, trying to charm the watchful mother over. He was a ham for attention.

Sam leaned back against a solid tree trunk, contemplating his next-door neighbor. Her soft almost curly hair tumbled down her back and rose on the breeze and gleamed in the sun. Kirby McKaslin was the most enchanting woman he’d ever met.

And what chance did a man like him have of loving a woman like that?

The truth was, she wasn’t going to love him in return.

He wouldn’t want her to.

No. She deserved a whole lot more than he could ever give her. Longing shadowed her eyes and showed plainly on her face as she interacted with the little girl.

Sadness weighed him down and he took off, just to get away.

Marriage. Kids. It wasn’t going to happen. His heart was cold and broken and in so many pieces, how could it ever be made whole again? And if it could, he’d never trust another woman. Not even this captivating lady with gentle, healing hands and the loveliest smile on earth.

Sitting in the quiet of her house on Sunday evening when the sunlight grew soft and pearled, she frowned at the numbers illuminated on the screen of her portable calculator. And retotaled her outstanding checks.

The hardest part about living in a small town was that a girl couldn’t keep a secret. By week’s end, Kirby was worn out from explaining to her sisters, her parents, her friends and to Jeremiah, during her Saturday-morning shift at the free clinic, that no, she wasn’t dating Sam Gardner.

How had half the town spotted them at the small neighborhood park for what couldn’t have been more than forty-five minutes? The dogs had played so well together, it was a sign, Michelle said. Karen wanted to know if she’d say yes if Sam happened to ask her out for dinner. Kendra said she’d heard good things through the grapevine about Sam.

He’d made good money as a corporate pilot and had invested his money well, Ruth Gardner had added at the gas station, when they both happened to be filling their tanks. He’d been hurt, and he needed a good woman to show him love was worth the risk.

Fine, but would that woman be her? Nope. Kirby wasn’t going to pine after a man who didn’t look at her in that way. Not lustful or anything like that—that wasn’t what she meant. She wanted a husband who would love her as if she’d hung the moon, in spite of her flaws. A man who looked at her and saw his everything.

That certainly wasn’t Sam. And if she was disappointed, well, she was an adult. She could handle it. She tried to keep faith that God had someone special in mind for her. Somewhere her one true love was waiting for her.

When that time came, she knew that the angels would give her a sign. So when she fell in love, it would be with the right man, and it would be forever.

That’s fine and dandy, Kirby, but this train of thought isn’t helping you balance your checkbook.

Well, short of a miracle, she wasn’t going to find the 1.63 she was missing.

Someone knocked at her front door—probably Michelle—and Jessie woke with a start from her nap and dashed across the house, eagerly greeting whoever was walking right in. There was a rustle of paper and a tap of shoes on the entry tile.

“Hi there, cutie.” It was Michelle.

After appropriately greeting the dog, Michelle bounded into the kitchen with a handful of helium balloons and a grocery sack. “Surprise! It’s not every day a girl starts work at her very own practice.”

“Hey, thanks.” Kirby took the bunch of balloons thrust at her. Half a dozen orbs floated overhead and bounced against her stucco-covered ceiling. The sayings ranged from Congratulations to You Go Girl! to Happy Bon Voyage!

“I liked the color,” Michelle explained. “Karen’s not coming tonight. She’s too tired, and I told her to stay home and let her husband spoil her. There’s always next week. Did she tell you about the baby’s name? Isn’t that awesome?”

“Yes.” Kirby’s throat ached as she anchored the balloons to the back of the closest kitchen chair.

Life moved on—it was the way of things. But it wasn’t easy.

Why was she feeling so down today? So hopeless?

Because she knew what Michelle was going to say next, and she was tired. She was weary of wondering if every unmarried man she met was the one. She’d done this too many times, with exactly the same kind of outcome. When she’d first met Jeremiah on a medical flight he hadn’t been seeing anyone. And she’d hoped, briefly, that he might be the man for her.

But no, they hadn’t had much in common besides their volunteer work, and he’d never once shown any interest in her.

And that had been true time and time again. With the new youth pastor at their church. Same thing. She’d gotten up her courage to say hello to him at the Labor Day picnic, and he’d looked right past her and politely asked if she’d thought of helping out with the youth group.

And maybe it hit her so hard because she felt something different for Sam. She didn’t merely see him. She
felt
him. Felt the sadness in his heart.

It was a connection that tugged at her like the earth at the moon, pulling her close and not letting her go. Even now, when she knew there was no chance, she still felt that invisible thread of her heart to his. All she had to do was look out the window and see him on his ladder, scraping off the paint from his house, and she ached.

I could love that man, deep and true and forever.

It hurt that he didn’t want her. Didn’t feel the same in return.

Show me what to do with these feelings, Lord,
she prayed as Michelle pulled the box of Scrabble from the bag she carried and began setting up at the kitchen table.

Michelle had that look about her, but before she could say one word about Sam, Kendra burst through the door with a cake and a casserole. Kirby made sure the subject of Sam Gardner didn’t come up in conversation that evening. Or haunt her thoughts as she lay awake staring at the wall until sleep finally claimed her.

H
er first day at work had been a hard one. Good, but long. A strain of a virus with bronchitis was making its way through the local schools and communities. She made sure every patient who walked through the doors, appointment or not, was seen and treated before she locked up and headed home.

Her little bungalow had never looked so good as it did at the moment she pulled into her driveway. The bright sun welcomed her, dappling through the mature maple’s broad green leaves over her house, over her. The colorful blush of the first roses peered shyly up at her as she dragged her tired feet along the walkway. The walkway where she’d first seen Sam Gardner.

There’s no chance, Kirby. Forget it. Move on, she told herself, and it was merely the truth. So why did a tiny piece of her heart keep wanting to hope?

She had to stop thinking about him. Otherwise, all she’d do was set herself up for more heartache.

Her dog’s happy greeting went a long way toward reviving her dragging energy level. The balloons waved in the current from the heat register as she entered the kitchen. The bakery cake Kendra had brought over was on the corner of the island. Happy First Day was written in yellow icing on the half that remained.

It
had
been an excellent day. She felt satisfied, grateful for this job she knew she was going to love. Maybe she’d fire up the gas barbecue instead of cooking her hamburger inside. The evening was temperate, the warmest of the season so far. Inspired, Kirby grabbed a box of matches from the utility drawer and unlocked the back door.

“Howdy, neighbor. Did you two beautiful ladies have a good day?”

If she stood on her tiptoes she could see over the top of the fence. There he was, standing on his back deck, where a new gas grill gleamed in the warm sunshine. “All in all, no complaints. How about you two handsome guys?”

“Me and Leo had an excellent time. We flew up to the Blackfeet Reservation. There was a museum there I wanted to take a look at. Really enjoyed it.”

“Leo went with you?”

“Not in the museum, no, but he did love the ride.”

“In the helicopter?”

“Sure. He’s been up in the air with me since he was nine weeks old. He loves to fly. Unlike some people. Yeah, I noticed your white knuckles on our flight back from Seattle that day.”

“It was the storm.”

“Well, you should have said something. I would have told you how I’ve flown in dust storms, ice storms, blizzards, lightning, thunder, under heavy fire, through the middle of an enemy tank division and about in every other condition known to man. I’ve only crashed twice.”

“
Twice?
That’s not going to make me feel better.”

“Hey, I lived to tell about it. I’m a first-class crash pilot. They train you for that kind of thing, you know. They don’t give you a chopper worth millions just to wreck it.” He winked, trying to make light of it.

She saw the grief in his eyes. Hard times, Ruth had said. Well, Kirby knew it wasn’t any of her business, but she was curious. She couldn’t help it.

“Aren’t you supposed to be starting a new job or something? What did I hear?” Sam lifted the grill’s lid. “Oh, I see that grin. It was today, wasn’t it? How’d it go?”

“Great. It’s a lot of responsibility, but I’ll love it.” How did she tell him about it? About having her own clinic, with staff to run, decisions to make, patients to see, illnesses to diagnose? “I even got to put in five stitches.”

“Five whole stitches?”

“A little boy put his hand through a glass door. I stitched up his little palm very carefully, and he shouldn’t have much of a scar. He’ll be as good as new in a few weeks.”

“Let me guess. You give out lollipops, don’t you?”

“I do, and wait, stop laughing at me. It’s not funny.” Sam could imagine just how she’d comforted that little boy. He couldn’t help feeling a little envious.

Everybody needed comfort now and then. Well, except tough guys like him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Lighting my barbecue.”

That did it. His first night of barbecuing on his own back deck of his own house, something he’d wanted for a heck of a long time, and it wasn’t right, that’s what, to see her over there looking a little lonely on this big night. She was happy about her new job and wanting to celebrate her big day, and she was alone on her deck with her dog.

Neither of them had someone.

“Hold on a minute, will you?” He left his long-handled grill spatula on the deck rail beside the plate with the one hamburger patty he had thawed. He had a whole stack of them frozen solid in his freezer. He didn’t have a microwave yet—he was going to wait until his kitchen remodel was done—and that was a problem. “So, what were you going to cook on your grill?”

“A hamburger.”

“You got it thawed and ready to go?”

“Well, I have the hamburger package in my refrigerator. Did you need to borrow some? I’d be happy to—”

“No, Miss Good Samaritan.” Sam shook his head. Could she be any nicer? “Toss that package over here, and I’ll grill up your burger. It’s the least I can do, considering it’s your first day and you’ve been such a good neighbor. I really appreciate it when you have those sisters of yours over that you keep the drum playing and rock music down to a low rumble.”

“Are you saying you want to have supper together?”

“I could suffer through it. Can Leo come, too?”

“Leo is always welcome.”

Hearing his name, the dog looked up from his huge hunk of rawhide and barked.

“Looks like you’ve got a deal. Toss me the hamburger and I’ll get cookin’.”

“Toss it to you?”

“Sure. I know how to catch.”

The way he grinned made her heart leap. She knew this wasn’t a date—it wasn’t that kind of invitation. This was just two neighbors, two people alone, having supper together. She wasn’t going to start letting herself hope that this could be anything more than that.

While Jessie raced around the backyard stretching her legs, Kirby found the package of hamburger meat on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator and carried it out to the deck rail. She flung it.

Sam snatched the package out of the air like a major league shortstop. “You like your burger rare? Medium rare?”

“Well done, but not charred.”

“As the lady likes.” Sam saluted her.

Suddenly there was so much to do. She had to change out of her work clothes. Preheat the oven. Empty the dishwasher. Put the fries on to bake. Oh, make a salad for two. Happier than she’d felt in years, she scurried about, preparing for Sam’s invasion.

She took the trash out, but Sam wasn’t on his deck. The burgers were sizzling away and smelled delicious. As she raced Jessie to the gate, she heard Leo bark on the other side of the fence.

Her feet felt light and it was easy to unlatch the gate and keep running, the dog at her heels. They skidded to a stop at the back of the carport, where she tossed the small bag into the garbage can. Then she raced her dog back to the deck.

“I’m coming over in a few,” Sam called as he emerged from his back door, spatula and platter in hand. “Be prepared.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?”

“Sure. Leo and I are entering enemy territory. Women territory. I saw all those ruffled curtains and the lace tablecloth. I think I can survive it.”

“You’re a brave man, Sam Gardner.”

So she was laughing as she slipped out of her drab work clothes and into her favorite pair of jeans and a cheerful long-sleeved T-shirt, one with a row of daisies imprinted on the front, smiling up at the sun. That’s how she felt.

Happy.
Not
hopeful.

When he walked into her house, he looked rugged in his faded army T-shirt and paint-streaked denims. Leo didn’t look right or left, but loped straight through the living room to the kitchen. Jessie came running in from the backyard, delighted to see her new friend. The two sniffed noses, then ran off together in search of the dog biscuit box.

“Done to perfection,” he said of the steaming beef patties on the platter he held. He clutched two bottles in his other hand. “Steak and barbecue sauces. I didn’t know what you liked, so I brought both.”

“That’s great. I’ve got cheese slices and fresh buns. It’ll take me just a second to slice tomatoes and onions—”

The thud of something heavy hitting the linoleum was followed by the skid and scatter of dog biscuits tumbling across the floor.

“Leo! That’s no way to behave in a lady’s house.” Sam shook his head. “That boy has no manners. Leo, you’re about as suave as I am. Sit. I mean it.”

The rambunctious dog wasn’t intimidated, and the warmth in Sam’s voice said that he was always kind, even when he was correcting the dog’s behavior.

Sam shoved the bottles and the platter of meat onto the edge of the island and knelt to both dogs. “Hey, Jess. What a good girl you are, eating only one. Unlike my Leo. Scarfing as many biscuits as you can. That’s uncouth, boy. It’s no way to impress the ladies.”

Sam ran one big hand over his dog’s broad head. When Jessie waggled, begging politely for the same, Sam laid his other hand on her round head, stroking gently, and the spaniel sighed with happiness.

Kind to animals. Wasn’t that on her Mr. Perfect list?

Kirby’s knees went weak. Her heart stood still and peace filled her, reaching her soul.

A peace that felt like sunlight touching the earth for the first time, chasing away all the dark places with the promise of the first spring.

It took all her strength of character to sit down at the table as though nothing had happened. As though she hadn’t fallen in love with Sam Gardner.

A man who didn’t love her.

The stars winked, bright and perfect, in a foreign sky. Not the constellations Sam had grown up with. No moon to help him out, either. Deep in enemy territory, with a squad of tired SEALs waiting for him in the jungle, his navigator—his best friend—unconscious and in shock and his copilot bleeding to death.

He felt ancient, as if he’d lived too long, seen too much, been here before. He had enough medical training to wrap the wounds and stabilize Mark’s broken femur. Needing to stabilize Chris’s neck, he dragged a board from the back of the smoking chopper.

Pain galvanized him. He worked, and worked fast, knowing he didn’t have much time to find cover for his men. He hoped the PJs coming to get him would be here but quick.

Pain wasn’t the only thing that motivated him. His wedding ring burned like a reminder of all that was important in his life—

Sam woke up, sweat rolling down his face.

Dreaming again. The memories stayed with him as he made his way to the kitchen. The past felt close tonight, closer than it had been in a long while.

He grabbed a soda from the fridge and saw a flash of muted light in the window of the house next door. Kirby’s house. Judging from the faint glow in the living room window, she had the television on. At 1: 43 a.m. He didn’t believe his eyes.

Miss Good Samaritan had trouble sleeping, did she?

Well, she wasn’t alone on that score. He stood sucking down the cold cola and debated for a good twenty minutes. There were a thousand reasons he shouldn’t go knock on her door.

The late hour. It was inappropriate to visit her in his pajamas. She’d probably think he was a burglar sneaking around in her yard. It would probably look as if he cared about her in a special way.

There was only one reason that mattered. He wanted to make sure she was all right. He pulled on a pair of sweats, left Leo sound asleep in the bedroom and made one stop in the kitchen before grabbing his keys and locking the back door behind him.

Leaves waved in the pleasant night air as he marched down the walk, hopped over the fence and circled around the side of her house. No lights were on, just the TV. He stomped up the front steps, taking care to make some noise so he wouldn’t startle her. He raised his hand to knock.

The door swung open to reveal Kirby in the faint light cast by the TV screen. With her hair tied back in a ponytail and wearing an oversize blue fluffy sleeper with feet, she looked to be about the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

“You nearly scared me to death, Sam Gardner.”

Cute, but mad. He held out his peace offering. “I saw your TV on and I got worried. Am I pardoned?”

“All right, but only because you brought chocolate ice cream.”

“Not just chocolate. The kind with fudge swirls and marshmallows.”

“Now I’ll invite you in, as long as you promise to be on your best behavior.”

“Sweetheart, I can’t promise you that.” He stalked past her, shut the door.

He looked athletic and fit and wonderfully masculine with his tousled hair and unshaven jaw.

What did she look like at two in the morning? Disaster. Her hair had been pulled back without benefit of a mirror. Since she’d washed her face before bedtime, she had no cover-up on to disguise the freckles on her nose and what was the start of a blemish on her forehead above her right brow. It had only been a small smudge earlier, but it probably looked like a bull’s eye by now.

She’d pulled the one-piece sleeper on over her nightshirt because it was cozy and comfy. But the bulky fleece made her look at least twenty pounds heavier than usual. See what a good thing it was that Sam wasn’t interested in her?

Because if he was, and he saw her like this, he’d change his mind.

By the time she’d caught up with him, he’d taken command of her kitchen. He had located the ice cream scoop and already had the lid off the ice cream carton. “What are we watching?”

“An Alfred Hitchcock thriller is on the classic movie channel.” Kirby stole two clean cereal bowls from the top rack of her dishwasher.

“I love Hitchcock.” Sam began scooping huge hunks of rich chocolate ice cream into both bowls.

“Why were you awake to see that my TV was on?” she asked, grabbing spoons out of the drawer.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He secured the lid on the carton and tucked it into the freezer for safekeeping. He turned around, spotted the spaniel waddling down the hall and into the dimly lit kitchen.