Jane's Long March Home

by Susan Lute

  She’d agreed to cooperate fully with Russell, but no way was she going to reveal this early in the game, the Marine he’d decided to let stay on his ranch had more than a few skeletons of her own. One of them, an unreasonable fear of hospitals.

  He cast her a sharp look. “Move it, Marine.”

  Jane swore under her breath. The man saw way too much.

  Leaning on years of long, hard training, she pulled herself together, focusing on the children's distress. Apprehension danced on their faces, matching the emotions churning up acid in her stomach.

  “Yes, Sir,” she spat, putting the sharp snap of a silent salute into the words.

  Russell’s lips twitched. Unexpectedly she felt better.

  He carried Pete to the older model crew cab F150. Wearing a mulish look, Bobby followed close behind. “I’m going with you.”

  “Figured you would,” Russell tossed over his shoulder, luring Jane further into his trap.

  Little Pete kept his frantic gaze locked on his brother, silently begging Bobby to extract him from the clutches of these strangers. That’s when Jane’s defenses buckled. First by Russell’s compassionate handling of the boys. Where had that come from? And then, by the obvious bond between the two brothers.

  The closest thing she’d ever had to having a brother were her fellow soldiers in the Corps. Before she could do anything more to stop him, Russell had her loaded in the backseat, cradling Pete’s ankle in her lap. Bobby took shotgun.

  In the tense silence that rode with them, the Doc carefully negotiated the long drive that headed toward the nearest Emergency Room. It didn’t get past Jane that his ride was the same color as a white knight’s steed. Wasn’t it good she didn’t believe in silly fairy tales?

  His eyes met hers in the rear view mirror, then crinkled at the outer corners in approval. Jane’s breath stalled. A flush of pure awareness heated her skin.

  How the Sam Hill had she ended up here?

  Saving your career, that’s how.

  Pete winced as they hit an uneven patch of road. Tearing away from the image of Russell doing more than offering an approval she neither wanted, nor needed, she repositioned her hands to give the boy’s leg more stability.

  *

  Chase was more than ready to transport his recalcitrant group back to the ranch. It was past one in the morning, and he was tired and not in a good mood.

  An x-ray of Pete’s leg had uncovered a hairline fracture, making a short cast necessary. Five hours after their arrival, the antiseptic smell of the emergency department was too much, as was the brooding silence that greeted his attempts to illicit any useful information from his uninvited guests.

  His head hurt at finding himself responsible for a soldier's mental and physical well being. And now, these kids, too? That last was easily solved when he turned Bobby and Pete over to child services. His friend, Beth would know what to do with them.

  He’d come to Oregon seeking refuge. Along the way, he’d hoped to find his own truth, whatever that might be. Deciding to take Jane on was one thing. Thinking about adding two runaway kids to the mix was another.

  Still, he was considering it.

  Chase massaged the back of his neck. He’d have to decide what to do about the boys after getting whatever sleep could be wrestled from the rest of the night.

  He caught sight of the Marine pacing outside the glass doors on his way to pay the bill. The poor woman hadn’t stepped one foot into the hospital since their arrival. Unfortunately, the fact that she was now his client, and person-non-grata because of it, didn’t stop the attraction sneaking up on him, or keep him from wondering who she was under all that spit and polish.

  She wouldn’t appreciate his dubious interest. And after her emotional tumble during their game of hopscotch, he shouldn’t be thinking it, but there it was.

  Put a cork in it, Russell. He sighed heavily. Easier said than done.

  “Sign here, please.” The young woman on the other side of the spotless counter handed him back his credit card, along with a receipt to sign. Disturbed by how his life was getting cluttered up, he signed where she indicated, unable to tear his mind loose from the enigma that was Gunnery Sergeant Jane Donovan.

  In the barn, she’d done what had to be done. But she'd kept her distance from the boys. Then, when she'd finally joined the game, checking Pete’s legs for any breaks, there had been that fleeting spark of empathy in her soft blue eyes.

  Something about these kids got to her, and he had a gut feeling, with her background, it was going to be important to find out what it was. What he couldn’t do was let arrogance trip him up like it had with Nate.

  Going over in his mind how he could take advantage of their sudden appearance to help Jane, he retraced his steps to the tiny cubical of a room where he’d left the boys. An older woman emerged from the holding room next to Pete’s. Her hand was bandaged. She was old enough to be his grandma.

  “Are you the fella from Seattle who bought the old Anderson place?” Her tone couldn’t have been more hostile.

  “Yes ma’am, I am.”

  Her gray eyes narrowed. “I’m Maxine Connor. Your neighbor. What are you planning to do with the place?”

  So this was Gus’ unmanageable Maxine.

  Chase shrugged. He wasn’t in the mood to explore future plans. Especially since he didn’t really have any, except to clear the place of the boarders he'd unexpectedly acquired. After that, he'd go back to work making the ranch livable, maybe board horses and a cow or two.

  “You’re a city boy. Do you know how to run a working ranch?”

  A picture of Jane repairing fences at his side flashed through his mind. “I’m sure I can learn.”

  “I’ll buy it from you as is. Give you a fair price.”

  “I’m not interested in selling.” That much he knew for certain.

  Maxine scowled at him. “It can get mighty cold here in the winter.”

  And lonely.

  Chase frowned. He was plenty comfortable with his own company. “That won’t be a problem.”

  A thump came from the open door of Pete’s cubical, followed by a stern shushing sound blending with the busy noises of the ER Department.

  “Those your children?”

  Pretty sure the boys were working on a fast getaway, Chase wondered how he could end this conversation without offending the woman.

  Maxine took his hesitation as assent. “Well. This is good country to raise a family in,” she said gruffly, before leaving him standing there, his mind whirling.

  Until he could prove he wasn’t a careless son-of-a-gun; that he’d never again put his own selfish needs before the welfare of those he’d been charged to take care of, a family was definitely out of the question.

  Besides, in his book, making this fictional family would required a woman. He didn’t have anyone lined up for the job.

  Jane sleeping peacefully, her short hair littering the pillow like small sunbeams, caused a small earthquake under his feet. Locking his jaw he took a step to see what the boys were up to.

  Jane Donovan did not have a starring role in his future. When he was done with her - he was already formulating a plan to move the woman on her way - the last thing she'd want, would be to stay forever. Faster than if he lit a fire under her gorgeous behind, she'd on the road back to the life she’d come from.

  Just as he’d suspected, when he stepped into the room, Pete was already on his feet, leaning on crutches the nurse had found in a back room. “Good, you’re ready to go.”

  A short time later, the boys were settled in the back. Glancing over at the woman riding shotgun, he pointed the Ford toward home.

  Head resting against the headrest, Jane's remarkable eyes were closed. The hard knot that had settled in his chest the night his mom told him Nate was in the hospital, eased off a little. In the rear view mirror, Bobby and Pete nodded off, their heads bobbing gently at the unevenness of the road.

  Jane stirred. “You’re keeping me awake.
I can hear you thinking clear over here.”

  Her voice was low, laced with a tiredness that pulled at Chase’s gut. Of all the women he’d known and casually dated over the years, why did this one have to be the one who jump started his engine like flame to a firecracker?

  Distraction, that's what he needed. He grasped at the first thing that came to mind. “You must have gone to parochial school.”

  “For twelve years. Do you ever stop working?”

  Yeah. On the night Nate attempted suicide because he couldn’t get a hold of me.

  Fatigue and the Marine's sarcasm was tinder to the fragile hold he had on his temper. He wanted her gone, so he pushed back. “I’ll bet you were a wild child.”

  She shifted; rolled her head to look at him. “Wilder than you can imagine.”

  He could imagine quite a lot.

  In the dark, with only the moonlight to illuminate her finely sculpted profile, those baby blues stared suspiciously at him. For a moment, all he could think about was dragging the woman across the console that divided the front seat to tuck her under his arm where she’d be safe and out of harm’s way.

  Respect for her rights as a patient pulled him away from the razor edge of that cliff. Suddenly, fascination's claws bit deep. “Bad girl stuff?”

  Her quick snort triggered a cascade that ended up exploding in a place he would have preferred it didn’t. Warning bells clanged in his head. Hot blood pumped at the provocative look she sent him. “I wasn’t a good girl.”

  He leashed the unexpected desire pounding in his veins. The woman had come to him for help. “What did Sister Mary Margaret have to say about all this bad girl stuff?”

  Her self-satisfied look pooled low in his gut. She leaned toward him with a flirty whisper, “Put your note pad away, Dr. Russell. I made sure she didn’t find out.”

  He cleared his throat; fought to keep the seriously crazy need to touch her – even a benign touch, like pushing taunting blonde strands behind her ear – under control. “Have you seen her since you’ve been home?”

  “No.” Her arresting face became an unreadable mask as she moved back to her side of the car, leaving him feeling unreasonably lonely. “Have you decided what to do about the boys?”

  Stunned by how much he wanted that other laughing Jane back, he couldn’t believe how close he was to starting something he couldn’t finish. “Not yet.”

  Gripping the steering wheel tight, he straightened his arms, pushing his shoulders into the seat. A professional relationship with Jane was vital. Otherwise, the last thing his life would be was simple.

  CHAPTER

  VI

  Some habits were just too hard to break. Despite the late hour of their return from the hospital, Jane's internal clock woke her as early as any morning she was due to report in to her office at the base. That today, and the days ahead, were an exception to her routine apparently didn't matter.

  Groaning, she rolled to her back. Maybe Russell would cut them all a break. Let them sleep in. Not that she needed special favors, but the boys did. Unwelcome worry over the two runaway kids, and what could happen to them, intruded into the twitter of a family of birds outside her bedroom window.

  Her skin heating with embarrassment, she remembered her last interaction with Russell. What was she thinking, flirting with the man? He was her therapist, not a boy toy.

  One minute she’d been working off her anxiety by wearing a rut into the pavement outside the Emergency Room. The next, she'd let her guard down; actually enjoyed teasing the serious man. That was until he asked if she’d seen Sister Mary Margaret since returning stateside.

  How many times had she started to call the nun, but hadn't?

  Her guilt laden mind skipped back to Russell and the unsettling realization he was the first man in a long time to make her think of more than just doing her job.

  Finishing her assignment, so she could point her Jeep back down the road she'd come in on, wasn't the only thing going on here. She didn't like it. She'd come to the ranch to get well. And to make sense out of the confusion keeping her from the perfect performance of her duty. Why couldn't she keep her mind on that task, and do what she did best - follow orders?

  Unwilling to answer that question, and favoring her hip, Jane eased out of bed, grabbed a clean tee shirt, and pulled it over her head.

  What did Russell plan to do with Bobby and Pete? The obvious course of action was to turn them over to the state. There were laws about reporting runaway kids; laws she remembered too well from her days at the orphanage.

  But was that the right thing to do?

  Shelter and protect the lost and abandoned - that was the creed the nuns had instilled in her from the moment she'd gotten to the orphanage. They’d done it so well, it’d gotten her into trouble in Madrid.

  Getting involved in Bobby and Pete’s plight so soon after the incident that had landed her here in the first place, was one more nail in the coffin suffocating her.

  Still, she couldn’t shake the stubborn notion that Russell should keep the boys here. On the ranch. Where they’d be safe.

  Jane shoved her legs into jeans and nicotine gum into her pocket. “It’s none of your business,” she repeated for the millionth time.

  When she opened the door, the man brewing the chaos in her mind leaned on the door jam, one hand raised to knock. She jerked on the hem of the shirt she didn’t quite have pulled all the way down. His eyes locked on her bare skin, taking on a heated spark.

  Her stomach clenched. “I, uh, was coming to find you.”

  “Good. You’re up. I need you to keep an eye out for the boys.” They spoke at the same time.

  He needed her? Jane’s mind went blank. Feeling ridiculously like a girl with her first crush, she had to call on years of rigorous training to clear the mists of lust from her mind. “Are you going to turn them over to the state?”

  “I don’t know yet. That would be the logical...and legal... thing to do.”

  She pressed her lips together. Letting her concern over Bobby and Pete take precedence was crazy, but one more penetrating glance from Dr. Chase Russell down the length of her body had logic flying out the window.

  For no good reason, she wanted to be on this man’s team - the other half of a two-some, worried about the welfare of two homeless boys.

  “They need a bath and food. I found clothes in the attic.” His voice was compellingly dangerous.

  When she made no attempt to take the bundle he held out, the Doc settled in as though he could spend all day blocking her way.

  Edgy and a little breathless, she pushed a lock of stray hair behind her ear. “You’re thinking they’re going run for it.”

  “Wouldn’t you? If you’d rather, I can get them into the bath and you can fix breakfast.”

  It took scarcely a second to compare Russell’s cooking with her own feeble efforts. Unless there was a cafe nearby, open for breakfast and serving takeout, he was out of luck if he expected something edible from her culinary skills.

  She took the clothes and towels. “You cook.”

  His grin was smug as he headed for the stairs. “Consider them homework.”

  Homework? If she wasn’t as concerned as Russell about the boys making a run for it, she’d call him back and set him straight. She'd had enough homework in Madrid. Look how that had turned out.

  She propped her back against the wall opposite Bobby and Pete’s room. Popping a piece of the nicotine gum into her mouth, she waited. Patiently. Sort of.

  Finally, the boy's door scraped open. Pete leaned heavily on Bobby’s arm. Their shoes, the laces tied together, hung around their necks.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Startled, they looked up, wearing identical crap-we’ve-been-caught expressions. If she wasn’t just as determined to keep her distance from the boys, as she was to keep them here with Russell, Jane would have have found it funny.

  But, she wasn’t on vacation; she had a job to do. That the assignment was her ow
n recovery made it more important than anything else she'd been ordered to do so far.

  “Time for a bath.”

  “We don’t want a bath,” Bobby balked.

  Jane wrinkled her nose. “You need one. When was the last time you got cleaned up?”

  They stared at her in stubborn silence. Jane stared back. She knew how to play this game.

  “We don’t have clean clothes,” Bobby informed her with enough fight, she had to give the boy points for effort.

  “Russell found something for you to wear while he gets yours washed. You have twenty minutes to square yourselves away before I come in and give you a hand.”

  God, she sounded like the Colonel.

  Glaring, Bobby grabbed the stack she held, changed directions and awkwardly maneuvered Pete into the bathroom. Once his little brother was in, he glared at her, then shoved the door closed.

  Jane smiled. So, she hadn’t lost her touch. For the first time in a long time, she thought maybe Sister Mary Margaret would be proud of her.

  “I’ll come in and collect your clothes once you’re in the tub. Don’t get Pete’s cast wet,” she called through the door.

  Her self-congratulations lasted until she heard the sharp snick of the lock. Water came on full force.

  She snorted. Well, well. The teen had spunk. And nerve. That was good. He was going to need it. She’d seen plenty of kids like Bobby at the orphanage. He had the aggressiveness of someone who’d been in and out of the system for years.

  Pete, on the other hand, seemed less touched by that life, but the little guy clearly loved and trusted his older brother. If her guess was correct, Bobby had been taking care of his younger sibling for a long time. They were family.

  Jane swallowed hard, then straightened. She’d accomplished the task Russell had assigned her; prevented any attempt the boys might have made to slip away.

  The last thing she wanted, and the last thing Bobby and Pete needed, was for her to hang around in the empty hallway getting involved in their lives.

  *

  Chase watched Jane through the kitchen window as she made her way across the ranch yard toward the barn. She limped, but it wasn’t as pronounced as when she’d first arrived.