Sydney had worn a blue blouse and khaki skirt on the plane. Her outfit was dressy enough to fit in with the other women walking up the steps to enter.
After parking the car, she waited outside the doors until it was almost ten on the dot, then joined a group of people and followed them inside. They would provide enough cover for her to slip inside the last pew.
The people who preceded her had the same idea, so she sat down next to them, keeping her head bowed. But it came up when she heard a different male voice lead the mass.
An older priest was conducting.
Where was Father Kendall?
Crushed with pain and disappointment, Sydney had no choice but to sit there until the mass ended. The second it was over she stole out of the church.
By the time she reached the car, an older woman was getting in the one next to her. She nodded to Sydney, who couldn’t prevent herself from asking, “Do you happen to know why Father Kendall wasn’t there today?”
“Someone said he was ill.”
The news devastated Sydney. “That’s too bad.”
“I agree. There’s no one like him.”
No. No one…
She flashed the woman a forced smile. “Have a lovely day.”
In the next instant, Sydney climbed in the car and drove off, afraid the other woman might want to prolong the conversation. She couldn’t let that happen.
He was ill?
How ill?
It she called his office, he would eventually see her caller ID and know she hadn’t had the discipline to leave him alone after all.
“You’re out of your mind, Sydney Taylor!”
With tears gushing down her cheeks, she drove back to Bismarck faster than ever. En route she phoned her parents and told them her rental car had suffered a flat tire, which was the reason she’d been detained.
No one could ever know what she’d done. Never, never again would she waste time dwelling on Father Kendall. This was the end, the absolute end of her fixation on him. As of this second, IT WAS FINISHED!
Two hours later she followed her father through the back door of the house into the kitchen. After riding horses with him for a little while, she needed a shower.
“Lunch is ready,” her mother announced.
“I’ll be with you in five minutes,” Sydney promised.
She made it back to the table in four, wearing a clean pair of jeans and a blouse. The only difference between her outfit and her parents’ was that her top wasn’t plaid.
“Pot roast. My favorite. Thanks, Mom.”
Old customs died hard on the plains of North Dakota. Sydney’s grandparents and great-grandparents had always served the big meal at midday. Her parents were no different. Beef was usually on the menu.
“What do you think of the North Forty now?” Her mother’s question jerked Sydney from her perilous thoughts. The disastrous detour to Cannon had left her shaken and filled with more questions. What if Jarod was seriously ill? She couldn’t bear it if that were true.
“I noticed you’ve gotten rid of a lot of the leafy spurge since June,” Sydney murmured before taking another bite of corn on the cob.
Her mother smiled. “Your father decided to try those beetles instead of spraying.”
“That was a smart move, Dad.”
“They haven’t gotten rid of all of the weeds, but they’ve reduced a fair amount. It didn’t cost me as much.”
He reached for another helping of roast. “That fellow from the fish and game department knew what he was talking about.”
“I’m glad you listened to him.”
Her mother passed her the bowl of salad. “After we eat, Lydia wants us to come over for dessert.”
“Sounds good.” It had been a while since Sydney had seen her aunt and uncle. “How’s Jenny?” Her cousin was about ready to have her first baby. Sydney had bought her a present while she’d been in California.
“Blossoming.”
“Have they thought of a name yet?”
“Joe.” Her father said with a smile.
Sydney nodded. “Can’t go wrong with a name like that.” Jenny’s husband was named Joe. Obviously she’d gone along with the decision. Whatever Joe wanted was fine with her. They had a good marriage. So did Sydney’s parents.
On the whole, her mother went along with her dad, but there’d been moments in the past when she’d put her foot down. Very few of them however.
“Did I tell you our ladies group gave Jenny a new car seat and a stroller at her baby shower?”
“That’s nice, Mom.”
“Some of them are still working on a quilt for her.”
“What a lucky baby.”
While her parents enjoyed a second cup of coffee, Sydney got up and started clearing the table.
Her mother brought their empty coffee mugs to the sink. “Someday you’ll be married and have a husband and children of your own, too.”
Sydney had to tamp down her frustration. After taking several deep breaths, she swung around. “Maybe I won’t, Mom. Don’t count on it.”
Don’t count on my ever falling in love with anyone else.
Her father joined them at the sink. “Tell us what happened with that fellow Chip from Idaho. We thought he was the one.”
“I was never in love with him. That’s why it didn’t work.”
“All along there’s been someone else, hasn’t there?”
She couldn’t lie to her parents. “Yes.”
“Is he still in Cannon?” her mother questioned.
Sydney’s heart plunged to the floor. Her emotions were in too much chaos after driving there. Anything that involved Father Kendall made her almost physically ill. That’s how she felt right now. Especially not knowing how serious his condition was.
How many more years had to pass before the mere thought of him held no power over her? What if his illness was fatal?
Dear God.
“Honey?”
Sydney bowed her head. “Can we please change the subject?”
“You’ll feel better if you talk about it,” her father persisted. “Until you started teaching in Cannon, you were our happy girl.”
Her mother eyed her with concern. “Since you can’t discuss it with us, I think you ought to call Pastor Gregson and have a chat with him while you’re here.”
Sydney let out a frustrated cry. “I’m twenty-six, Mom, hardly a little girl anymore. Pastor Gregson is a stranger to me. In any event, he’d be the last person to understand.” Sydney could just imagine their conversation.
I’m in love with a priest, Pastor Gregson.
Then you must do everything to put that devil out of your mind, Sydney.
“Now, Sydney—”
“You know how I feel about church.” As far as Sydney was concerned, organized religion seemed to cause a lot more pain than it alleviated. But for it, she and Father Kendall—
No! She’d promised herself she wouldn’t go there.
Taking another deep breath, she turned to her mother. “I realize church helps you two deal with the crises in your lives. That’s fine. But I have to handle my problems in my own way.”
“The pastor has a wonderful reputation.” Her father kept it up.
Once her parents dug in their heels, that was it. The church community was their answer for everything.
“If I feel the need for help, I’ll arrange to see a psychiatrist.”
Sydney had just said the wrong thing again. Her parents didn’t believe in psychiatry.
“Is this man already married?”
Yes, he’s married. But not in the way you mean.
“No!” Sydney cried in agony. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll change into something dressier to wear over to Aunt Lydia’s.”
Before driving into Yellowstone National Park from the North Entrance at Gardiner, Jarod bought a map at a convenience store and ate breakfast in the rental car while he studied it.
His eye traced the 140-mile Grand Loop that fo
rmed a figure eight through the Park. From here he could travel south to Madison, then Old Faithful, West Thumb, Fishing Bridge, Tower Falls, Mammoth and the Norris Geyser area.
There were roads leading to other portions of the Park, too. His plan was to look around at each major stopping-off point in the hope of spotting Sydney on the job. He preferred not to query anyone about her. They might alert her that someone was asking questions.
If she was anywhere around, her gilt hair would attract his attention. Whether in her ranger uniform or not, with her long legs and slender curves, she’d be impossible to miss. In the event he had no success, then he’d be forced to make inquiries.
After living at an elevation of 800 feet in Cannon for the last ten years, Jarod could blame his accelerated heart rate on the six-thousand-foot change which made the air thinner. But he knew his vital organ was getting the greatest portion of its workout for an entirely different reason.
Exhilarated in a way he hadn’t been in ages because he knew this was Sydney’s world, Jarod couldn’t help but contrast the beautiful subalpine terrain dotted with lodgepole pines and spruce trees to the windswept plains along the Cannonball River.
The dry heat today might be in the eighties, but it didn’t wilt him. As soon as the fast-moving cumulus clouds covered the sun, he felt an immediate drop in temperature.
With each curve in the road he noticed places where forest fires had burned patches of vegetation. Remarkably he could see flowers sprouting from those blackened areas, evidence of new life.
New life.
His hands tightened on the wheel.
Like the other tourists, he kept an eye out for bison and moose. The Saturday traffic moved slowly. At this rate it would take all day to make a superficial sweep of the Park in his effort to locate her.
By the time he’d reached the Upper Geyser Basin, his patience had worn thin. It shouldn’t have surprised him that the Old Faithful area looked like a gigantic parking lot. End-of-summer vacationers had gathered to watch the famous geyser blow.
According to the brochure he’d been given when he’d paid his entry fee, each eruption lasted a different length of time and went off in intervals from thirty to a hundred and twenty minutes. Judging by the mass of people seated on the benches and standing around, a new eruption was imminent.
Once he’d found a place to park, he looped his powerful binoculars around his neck and got out of the car. Everyone had their cameras trained on the scene. While serious photographers set up their tripods in the hope of capturing something unusual and spectacular on film, Jarod started walking around with a different target in mind.
Putting the lens to his eyes, he swept the sea of tourists. So far he’d only picked out a handful of male rangers in uniform, one of whom was speaking to the huge crowd assembled. Convinced Sydney wasn’t on duty here, Jarod walked the short distance to the Old Faithful Visitors Center.
Besides a sales outlet, he discovered an auditorium full of at least a hundred people where another male ranger was narrating a film. He saw a couple of others walking around, talking to tourists.
As he turned to leave, he caught sight of a display in one of the alcoves manned by a teenager. There was a banner hanging above her head. Help Build A New Old Faithful Visitor Center.
He moved closer to the winsome brunette and read the tag on her khaki blouse. Cindy Lewis, Junior Park Ranger.
She smiled at him. “Would you like to know why we need a new facility?”
If she could help him find Sydney, Jarod decided he would be happy to hear anything she had to tell him. It was a long shot, but worth his time.
“That’s why I stopped.”
Her smile broadened. “The need for information, orientation and educational services isn’t being met by the existing visitor center. As you can see, this building is too small to accommodate even a small percentage of the people visiting the area.
“There are no interpretive exhibits and the auditorium lacks sufficient seating for the numbers of visitors wanting to see films. That’s why the Yellowstone Park Foundation is committed to raising the funds to build a new facility.
“It represents the best opportunity for public-spirited individuals like yourself to join with the National Park Service in building a new, world-class visitor center. There’ll be permanent exhibits to help people understand and appreciate the rarest hydrothermal resources on earth today.
“If you’re interested in learning more, please take this brochure and read it. Any contribution would be greatly appreciated.”
Jarod pulled some money from his wallet and put it in the attached envelope before handing it back to her. “This is for your excellent presentation.”
“Thanks!”
“You’re welcome. Are there more junior rangers like you around?”
“Yes. We’re situated throughout the Park to help educate people, but after the Labor Day weekend we’ll have to go back to school.”
“It sounds like a very commendable program. Are you planning to become a National Park Ranger after college?”
“Yes.”
“I once knew a woman who I understand became a park ranger here.”
“I’m friends with all the rangers. What’s her name?”
The blood pounded in his ears. “Sydney Taylor.”
The girl blinked. “Ranger Taylor has been the head of the teenage junior ranger program all summer! She’s the best.”
Jarod’s adrenaline surged. “Are we speaking of the same person? She used to be a schoolteacher at Cannonball High in North Dakota.”
“Yes! She said she taught English there for a year before she came here.”
“I knew her quite well. What a coincidence that you’ve been working with her,” he murmured. “Do you have any idea where she is right now?”
The girl nodded. “California. Her best friend, Ranger King, just got married. Sydney will be back on Monday.”
Frustrated that she wasn’t here, he was forced to suppress his fierce disappointment. He needed to come face-to-face with the one woman in the world who’d become necessary to his existence.
“I’d like to leave a note for her. Do you know where she lives?”
“Sure. It’s across the parking area, cabin five.”
“Thank you, Cindy.” He shook her hand. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”
He walked off before she had the presence of mind to ask his name. Within a few minutes he found his car and drove over to the cluster of cabins in the distance.
So much for the element of surprise.
After penning a message, Jarod left the folded paper inside the front door screen where she would see it when she returned from California.
Once inside the car, he started the motor and took off, pressing on the accelerator as he headed back to Gardiner. By tomorrow night he expected her to call him on his cell phone.
Yet he couldn’t silence the niggling voice inside his head asking questions he refused to contemplate.
What if she doesn’t respond?
What if she doesn’t want anything to do with you?
CHAPTER TWO
THE HARDEST PART about teaching school was enduring the first three days of teachers’ meetings before you actually got to meet your students.
At seven-thirty Monday evening, an exhausted Sydney hurried out of Elkhorn High School to her car. Following the day’s meetings, the PTA had served dinner in the cafeteria. Tomorrow she would have to come early to start decorating her room before back-to-school night on Wednesday.
Two blocks away she turned into the drive of her eight-plex apartment building and parked her Jeep in one of the covered stalls. What she needed right now was a shower, then bed.
Before reaching the door of her ground-floor unit, she sensed she wasn’t alone and assumed it was one of the other tenants coming home, too. Then she heard a man call to her in a low, compelling voice.
The urgent way he said her name conjured memories that made the hairs
stand on the back of her neck.
No…
It couldn’t be…
It just couldn’t…
Still disbelieving, Sydney turned around slowly, convinced the fatigue of the day had taken unprecedented liberties with her imagination.
In the growing darkness she saw the silhouette of a tall, solidly built man. At first glance she thought he bore a resemblance to the man whose memory had been her nemesis. But two things stood out that made her decide she was mistaken, that she was looking at a stranger.
For one thing he was wearing a tan suit with a tie. The man she’d once known would never be dressed in such clothes.
For another, this man with his jet-black hair and brows was beardless.
Through her lashes she studied the unfamiliar lines of a strong chin and jaw with their five o’clock shadow. He possessed a potently male mouth hinting at an aggression that made her swallow hard.
“Sydney—” he whispered, reading her confusion correctly.
The deep cadence of his voice permeated to the core of her being. Like a matching fingerprint, there was no mistaking who he was this time. The reality of his presence sent her into shock. She fell against the door helplessly.
He started to move toward her.
“No—don’t touch me!” she begged. But her protest went ignored as the flesh-and-blood man placed his hands on her upper arms to steady her. She felt their heat as if she’d pressed up against a furnace.
“I’ll let you go when you’re able to walk without help.”
Sydney’s head fell back on the graceful column of her neck. Her heart pounded in her ears.
“Come on. Let’s get you inside.” He took the keys from her nerveless fingers and opened the door.
Convinced she was hallucinating, she started to feel light-headed. Her legs refused to obey her.
The next moment became a blur. With effortless masculine strength, he picked her up in his arms and carried her into the dimly lit living room. After laying her on the couch, he disappeared.
A minute later he returned with a glass of water. Hunkering down next to her, he put it to her lips. His other hand slid beneath the gold satin of her hair to prop her head.
Meant-To-Be Marriage Page 2