Heaven's Touch. Jillian Hart

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СКАЧАТЬ if he’d never been the man she’d once intended to marry.

      As if her heart were whole and her life as it should be, she walked to her car, climbed in and drove off without looking back.

      Chapter Two

      Cadence Chapman. Wow, that was someone he hadn’t thought about in too long—and on purpose. She could still tie him up in knots, that was for sure. Ben rubbed the back of his neck with one hand as he eased the truck to a crawl.

      The turnout from the paved county road to the driveway was hard to find in the dark. It always had been. Scrub brush, salmonberry bushes and super-tall thistles that had yet to be tamed by a Weedwacker obscured the stake marking the edge of the driveway.

      The tiny red reflector still hung crooked from the stake. It had been that way since he was in second grade. One misty morning while waiting for the school bus, he’d been bored, so he’d tossed rocks at the reflector, knocking it askew until one of the bigger Thornton boys had told him to stop.

      There was a reason he didn’t like remembering. It wasn’t so good coming home. His neck was a tangle of melted-together fibers, his chest a tight ball of confused hurt, which seeing Cadence had caused even after all this time.

      And on top of all that, driving up the road made his guts coil up, negating the fact that he was hungry as all get-out. He had been looking forward to raiding Rachel’s refrigerator. Right now, though, until his stomach relaxed, he couldn’t eat a thing. Maybe he could stay focused in the present moment—that he was just a guy coming home from the front, like so many soldiers. He’d think about the here and now, about Rachel, and wonder if she’d stayed up to meet him.

      But the past reached out to grab him like a ghost in the dark as he bumped up the gravel driveway through the cottonwoods and over the rush of the creek. Images from long ago, grown fuzzy and dim with time—of a happy boy, in the days before he’d been an orphan, wading in the water watching tadpoles and little trout and searching for deer tracks.

      He slid down the windows just to hear the wind and the water gurgling and the whisper of the small green leaves in the night air. He couldn’t stay in the present. Too many memories came with the sounds of the breeze. Darker memories came, of how he’d hidden in the culvert after his parents had been killed in a car accident, and no one could find him.

      No, that wasn’t such a good memory.

      Ben hit the control and the windows zipped up, cutting off the night, shutting off the memories and banishing the past.

      But not entirely. The past was hard to erase. It was tenacious, and it lurked behind him like the shadows. As the truck rolled and bounced up the driveway, he realized the private lane was in terrible shape. It could use a grading and a new layer of gravel. Maybe he’d help Rachel with that. He desperately latched on to any normal thought as the truck careened the last few yards to the lone house on the hill.

      The house was a neat rancher built when his parents had been alive, on a five-acre tract on the good side of town and along the river on the back of the property, within sight of the elementary school and the park. But right now it was nearly pitch-black. The only light to guide him was a small spill of porch light over the front door.

      Rachel had left it on for him. He warmed up at his sister’s thoughtfulness. That hadn’t changed, nor had the tall leafy maples, older than he was, which stood at attention like gigantic sentries around the yard.

      Rachel knew he was coming. They were the closest in age. She was less than two years his junior and seemed to understand him, if anyone ever could. She always made him feel comfortable without judging his shortcomings. And instead of scolding him on the phone for his sudden visit, she’d sounded truly happy, and not put out that he was springing a visit on her.

      “I can’t wait to see you, and, hey, you’re getting better! Last time you called from the airport.”

      “See? I can be taught.”

      “The door is always open. It’s your home, too.” Her voice had dipped with emotion, and he closed off his heart and memory.

      How did he tell his sweet and wonderful sister that he didn’t want a home? That’s why he was more nomad than anything, and she was the one who lived in the family’s house. She clung to the past as if it were something to be treasured, not forgotten.

      Well, he was more than happy to forget, but not his sisters.

      Rachel was probably asleep, or possibly reading in bed, since her bedroom was on the other side of the house. Affection stretched like a rubber band in his chest. His sisters sure worked hard, and he knew that Rachel often covered the morning shifts at the family restaurant in town, so she got to bed pretty early to be on the job by six.

      The clock in the truck’s dashboard told him it was well after midnight. Yeah, he thought as he pulled up to the closed double garage doors and killed the engine. She definitely had given up waiting for him.

      That was okay. He was beat. He’d be lousy company anyway. It had been a long drive from Pensacola and his back hurt, but not as badly as his leg.

      He gritted his teeth as he tried to move. Oh, yeah, the adrenaline was wearing off, all right. He was too tough to admit it, so he tried to ignore the streak and throb of pain that felt as if he’d been shot in the calf with a bullet. Wait—that’s exactly what had happened to him.

      Talk about luck. He still had his leg, so he didn’t care how much it hurt. He’d treated lots of guys who hadn’t been as fortunate. As he climbed out of the cab and transferred weight onto his good leg, he pushed aside the pain and stiffness and breathed in the silence.

      Whoa, he’d forgotten how peaceful it could be here. There was no tracer fire, no beat of chopper blades and no rat-tat-tat of machine guns. Trouble was half a world away.

      God, don’t let me be here for long.

      “Go home. Rest up. Go fishing or something,” his colonel had told him. “When your med leave is up, we’ll see if we need to cross train you into another job.”

      No way. His guts clenched. He’d get this leg back into shape, he vowed with all his might as his feet stepped on the dependable Montana earth. Right, God?

      But no answer came on the temperate warmth of the sweet summer air. Well, he wasn’t going to let that trouble him. He was determined. And he was home, for better or worse. He let the wind pummel him as he took a look around. So much wide-open space.

      He’d been back for holidays when he was in the country. But that usually meant he was huddled in the house on the bitter Thanksgiving and Christmas nights while it snowed, busy catching up on the family news, eating cookies and telling tall tales. He’d always had a hundred different things on his mind when he’d been here visiting.

      Besides, he avoided peace on purpose.

      His M.O. always was to stay a few days, and then he was gone. Whether he was visiting here or on a quick break in his duplex at Eglin Air Force Base, he was always rushing off to strife in some part of the world, where strong men with guns kept this country safe. He was proud to be one of those men.

      I’m anxious to get back, God, he prayed, studying the velvet tapestry of the night sky. Please heal me up quick.

      He СКАЧАТЬ