“No. Just these two stacks right here.” He laid his hand atop the two that were just as tall as he was. Bankers boxes, no less. Not the small boxes she’d imagined he’d sent his mother.
“Kaleb, your mother is one blessed woman. But this is going to take us forever.”
“Now you understand my predicament.” He lifted one from the top of the stack and set it on the floor. “Shall we?”
She dropped to her knees and blew out a breath. “We gotta start somewhere.”
He lifted the lid. Inside were photos and newspaper articles. He picked up a picture. “This was from basic training.” He studied the photo. Touched a finger to it. “Beau LeBlanc.”
“What?” She leaned in for a closer look.
“Beau LeBlanc. He was my first friend at camp Benning. We were together every step of the way.” Kaleb was silent a moment before clearing his throat. “All the way to the end.”
Her heart twisted. No wonder Kaleb didn’t want to go through these boxes. They were littered not only with memories, but painful ones at that. Memories he carried with him every single day in a very real way.
What should she do? Try to change the subject or let him remember?
Kaleb made the decision for her. “Beau was a Southerner to the core. Though not necessarily a gentleman. He had some spicy lingo, that one. Didn’t take flak from no one.” Kaleb looked at her without ever seeming to see her. “Then he met Vanessa and all that changed. I’ve never seen a guy mind his p’s and q’s as quickly as he did. He knew he’d hit pay dirt with her.”
“Did they get married?”
“Just as soon as he could talk her into it.” Kaleb’s gaze fell to the worn hardwood floor. “Vanessa was pregnant when he was killed. Beau never got to see his little girl.”
Grace’s eyes fell closed. She would not cry in front of this man who was so grieved by the loss of his friends. Turning, she swiped away a couple of wayward tears before looking at Kaleb again.
“They’re coming here, you know.”
She watched him with curiosity. “Who?”
“The families. After I bought Mountain View Tours, Vanessa and one of the other wives thought it would be good to have a reunion here. So they’re all coming to Ouray next month. Wives, kids, parents...”
“I can see that.” Grace stretched her legs out in front of her. “They share a common bond.”
“I just don’t understand why they have to drag me into it.” Kaleb stood, dropping the photo back into the box. “Perhaps we should do this another time.” He held out a hand to help her up.
Allowing Kaleb to pull her to her feet, Grace was befuddled. Why wouldn’t he want to see his friends’ families? Their children? Didn’t he realize he was their last connection to their loved ones?
She wished she knew the story surrounding the IED attack. But this definitely wasn’t the time to ask. For now, she could only surmise that Kaleb was suffering from survivor’s guilt.
“Whatever you think is best.”
Perhaps next time, she’d suggest she go through the boxes alone and then bring any prospective museum items to him for approval. Seeing the pain swimming in Kaleb’s suddenly dark eyes, though, she wondered if there would be a next time.
* * *
What was best was to leave the past in the past.
Kaleb had been a fool to think that having someone else with him would make this job any easier.
Standing in his spare room, staring down at Grace, he could only imagine what she must think of him. He recognized the pity in her gaze as she looked up at him. It was the same look his ex-fiancée, Gina, had as she sat with him at Walter Reed Medical Center.
Grace’s pity was the last thing he wanted.
“I’ll walk you home.” He turned for the door.
“That’s not necessary.” She was on his heels as he started down the hall.
“Yes. It is.” He tossed the words over his shoulder as they entered the living room. “It’s dark outside.” Besides, he needed the fresh air.
“I’m a big girl, Kaleb. I’ve walked alone in the dark before.”
He jerked open the front door. “Yeah, well, not on my watch.”
Outside, the night air was cooler than he’d expected. Just what he needed to clear his head and send those haunting memories back where they belonged.
“Thank you for dinner,” said Grace as they started up the street. “That was the best steak I’ve had in a long time.”
“You’re welcome.” The words came out harsher than he’d intended and he could sense Grace pulling away. She didn’t deserve that. Not after she’d done so much to help him.
Touching her elbow, he stopped.
She followed suit.
“I appreciate your willingness to help me.” He made sure to keep his words soft. “You’ve been nothing but great. Sorry I turned into such a jerk.”
“No apology needed. However—” she shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants “—if you’d like to talk about it, I’ve got a nice stack of wood just waiting for a campfire.”
While steak might be Grace’s weakness, campfires were his. The smell alone was the best aromatherapy ever. But she’d also thrown in the word talk. As if it was a stipulation. Nothing like driving a hard bargain.
“I may not be very forthcoming.” He could at least be truthful.
Under the dim streetlamp, he saw something flicker in her eye. “We’ll see about that.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Call it what you want.” After a momentary staredown, she continued on, as though the gauntlet had been thrown down.
He walked beside her, uncertainty plaguing his every step. Talk about it.
Grace was practically a stranger. Why would she think he’d talk to her?
You’re the one who asked her to help you go through your stuff.
Okay, so maybe Grace understood him better than most people. But only in terms of the military experience. Still, she hadn’t suffered the loss of a comrade.
Arriving at her campsite, he spotted the stack of wood in question.
“So, what do you think?” She playfully eyed the small fire pit. “Seems like a nice night for a fire.” She picked up a handful of kindling.
Surrounded by the sounds of the night, he studied the area. The camper. The canopy. The lone camp chair. “There’s only seating for one.”
Pursing her lips, she shook her head. “Nope. I’ve got a cooler that makes a great seat.”
It was almost as though she were daring him to open up. In that case, “Bring it on.”
The mischievous light in her eyes had him immediately rethinking things. Yet, before he knew it, an inferno threatened to overtake the tiny fire pit.
“Care for a drink? Water? Diet Dr Pepper?” With the pizzazz of a flight attendant, she smiled at him.
“No. I’m good.” He picked up the lone camp chair and moved it from the canopy to the fire pit. For all practical purposes, they were alone. The nearest neighbor a large RV across the way.
He breathed in the aroma of fire and waited for calm to infuse his being. But it never came.
Grace settled beside him, atop the large cooler, a Diet Dr Pepper in hand. “Nice fire, huh?”
“Kinda small, if you ask me.”
“Yeah, I’m a bit limited here. You should consider building a big fire pit in your backyard.”
He glowered at her. “Maybe I will.”
“Might come in handy.” Her smug look teased him.
“Okay, what is it you want to know?” He wasn’t afraid to call her bluff.
“I don’t recall asking anything.” She stared at the fire. “Though there’s obviously something bothering you.”
He leaned forward in his seat, ru
bbing his hands together. “And what do you think that something might be?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” Her sideways glance only served to bug him more. But then, she already knew that.
“You’re relentless, you know?”
She took a swig of her diet soda. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He watched her a moment, his blood pressure rising. He knew what she wanted. The question was, could he give it to her?
A part of him wanted to. The other part wanted to fight tooth and nail.
The odd thing was, he’d told his story to countless people, giving motivational speeches at area schools, churches and service organizations. Too many people had given up on themselves, on life and on God because they were too focused on what they didn’t have. He wanted to encourage them to think about what they did have.
Yet talking with Grace about the event seemed, somehow, different. Back at the house, she’d got a glimpse of him at his worst. And he’d found himself on the receiving end of her pity.
He didn’t want Grace’s pity. He simply wanted her to know.
“Five years ago I was driving a Humvee and hit a trip wire.” For as often as he’d shared his story, this time he found himself hesitating. He took a breath and forged ahead. “I don’t remember much about the actual event. Just the sound of the explosion and then waking up in an army hospital several days later.”
He shifted slightly, adjusting his artificial leg. “Of course, I had no idea what had happened. So my parents filled in the blanks the best they could.” He looked over at Grace. “Seems the explosion packed enough punch to send that nine-thousand-pound vehicle flying through the air.”
Her smile was a sad one.
“They explained that my jaw had been shattered, I’d been burned and that I’d lost my leg. And that my buddies...” He cleared the emotion that never failed to thicken his throat.
“I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been.” Illuminated by only the firelight, she twisted to face him. “But why do you blame yourself?”
“Who said that?”
“You did. Though not in so many words.”
He searched her face, wondering how this woman could possibly read him so well. “What are you? Some kind of shrink?”
She puffed out a laugh. “Hardly. Just too curious for my own good.”
The fire snapped and hissed, sending a shower of sparks into the air.
“Okay, then here you go. I don’t like being called a hero and I don’t need anybody’s pity.”
“Why would they pity you?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
Her gaze narrowed. “What are you getting at?”
“I saw the way you looked at me when I was talking about Beau. I don’t need you to feel sorry for me, Grace.”
“Feel sorry for you?” Setting her soda can down on the cooler, she stood. “I think you’d better get your eyes checked. The only thing I was feeling back there was your pain.” She started to pace. “I can’t even begin to comprehend the anguish you must feel over the loss of your friends. Or the torture you had to endure as you fought your way back from your injuries. I admire you. So to have you cheapen that by saying I feel sorry for you? I’ve got news for you, buddy. You’re not worthy of my pity.”
Chapter Six
Grace lay in her bed the next morning, listening to the rain slap against the waterproof fabric of the camper top, trying to decide who was the bigger fool. Kaleb for believing she felt sorry for him or her for going off on her boss. After all, the Kaleb of last night was not the same Kaleb she’d worked with all week. Last night’s was a torn, grieving man, while the Kaleb that was her boss was one of the most positive and encouraging people she’d ever known.
No telling which one she’d face at work today. Assuming she still had a job, after the way she dismissed him last night.
She’d just have to apologize and prove herself worthy of her position with Mountain View Tours. Because there wasn’t another job in town that paid as well. And she certainly wasn’t going to spend the rest of the summer staying with her mother or Lucy.
Frustrated, she pulled the pillow from beneath her head, covered her face and screamed into the fluffiness.
There. That felt better.
She again tucked the pillow under her head and burrowed deeper under the covers, savoring a few more minutes of nothingness.
A drop of water landed on her cheek. Followed by another.
“What on earth...” She bounded off the bed that sat a couple of feet higher than the floor, eyeing her fabric roof. “Waterproof, my eye.” Rubbing her bare arms, she spotted a leak in the ceiling. A tiny hole. Nothing some duct tape wouldn’t fix.
She shivered as she opened the storage compartment beneath her mattress and rummaged through everything from extra blankets, to clothes, to her toolbox, but came up empty-handed. Turning her attention to the floor, she dropped to her knees and dug through her saddlebags.
“Where could that—” She snagged her gray navy sweatshirt and tugged it over her tank top as she stood. That was when she saw it.
Her breath. Clouding the frigid morning air.
In May? One should not be able to see their breath in the month of May. That was, unless they lived in Alaska.
Obviously, she’d spent too much time in warmer climates.
Her gaze inadvertently drifted heavenward and she huffed out a cloudy breath.
A few minutes later, she found the tape. It was indeed in her storage compartment, only inside her toolbox, which she’d failed to open the first go-round. By the time she patched the hole, the rain had stopped.
When she emerged from her tent a short time later, dressed in something warmer than her pajamas, gray clouds hovered over the town, obscuring the mountaintops. The air was still, yet damp and cold. She zipped up her jacket, annoyed that neither her sister nor her mother had warned her to bring some warmer clothes.
Fearful of more rain, she hauled a tarp from her storage compartment, along with some rope. Even with the hole patched, an extra layer of protection couldn’t hurt. Might mean the difference between climbing into a wet bed or a dry one. Call her crazy, but she preferred her bedding dry.
Outside, she unfolded the blue plastic sheet and looped a rope through each corner. Then, standing on the tongue of the trailer, she attempted to throw one corner over the tent. At five foot seven, she wasn’t exactly short, but since the tent peaked somewhere around seven feet, this was going to be a challenge.
“Looks like somebody could use a little help.”
Grace jerked around at the sound of Kaleb’s deep voice, the rubber sole of her riding boot slipping on the tongue’s wet metal. She tried to catch herself, but fell backward, stumbling right into Kaleb.
“I gotcha.”
Her heart broke into a thundering gallop as strong hands gently gripped her arms and lifted her straight. Warmth radiated from Kaleb’s body, and she found herself longing to be enveloped in his embrace.
Shocked by the notion, she turned to face him, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. “What are you doing here?”
“Uh—hoping to ply you with a peace offering?” His brown insulated jacket looked a lot warmer than her leather number and she found herself coveting the black beanie pulled over his head and ears.
“What?” She pushed the hair out of her face, tucking it behind both ears.
“You had me awake half the night.”
She felt both of her eyebrows reaching for the sky.
“Well, not you, but what you said.”
Chagrin washed over her. She toed at the dirt with her boot. “Yeah, about that—”
“You were right.”
Her gaze shot to his. “I was?”
“Yes. I owe
you an apology for acting like a self-centered, misguided fool.” He moved toward the picnic table. “And, since it’s a cold morning, I thought I’d bring you hot coffee and breakfast to help win your forgiveness.”
“Wait a minute.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “You have hot coffee?”
“Right here.” He gestured to the cardboard carrier that held two cups. “I picked them up on my way over.” He grabbed one and handed it to her. “Almost lost them when you fell, though.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.” She took hold of the cup, blessed heat seeping into her frozen fingers.
She took a sip, the hot liquid warming her from the inside out.
“There’s some sugar and creamer in case you need it.” He pointed to the cup holder.
“No, black is perfect.”
“I had a feeling it might be.”
She sent him a curious look.
“You were military. We learn to drink our coffee strong and black.”
She puffed out a laugh and watched as it hung in the damp air. “And sometimes with chunks.”
He nodded. “You won’t have to worry about that today. Granny’s Kitchen brews a decent cuppa joe, but without chunks.” He reached behind him. “Celeste Purcell, the proprietor, also makes the best cinnamon rolls in town.” He held up a white bag. “Get ’em while they’re hot.”
Grace couldn’t help it. She simply stood there, blinking. A hot breakfast on this cold morning was more than she could have asked for. And far more than she would have managed on her own.
“Hello?” Kaleb waved the bag in her direction.
“Yes. Let’s eat.” She accepted a large, warm roll and a napkin and promptly picked off an icing-laden chunk. The sweet, gooey goodness practically melted in her mouth, filling her with a sugar-induced wave of delight. “This is so good.”
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
Considering she had planned on apologizing to him... “Definitely.”
Smiling, Kaleb eyed her tarp that now lay on the ground. “What were you trying to do up there?”
She held a hand in front of her mouth and spoke around her second bite. “There’s a leak in my woof.” She swallowed before continuing. “I patched it with duct tape, but looking at these clouds, I thought it might be a good idea to add an extra layer of protection.”
Falling for the Hometown Hero Page 6