by Soraya Lane
She would be forever grateful that he’d come all this way to give her William’s things. It had given her some sort of closure. Made his passing more final, somehow.
The tags Alex had given her had been William’s older ones—the more current ones had come home with his body—but she had taken comfort in wearing them.
This morning she had tucked them in her jewellery box, along with the folded letters and the photo of Lilly.
She had made a decision too.
To stop grieving. To be brave and take a big step forward.
William was gone. It had taken her a long while to admit that.
He’d been a great husband and an even better father. But he’d also been a soldier. And that meant she’d always known that this day, being alone, could come, and she had to face it.
The reality of being a soldier’s wife was that you had to risk losing him. That you couldn’t hold him back.
Well, she’d loved William with all her heart, but she’d also accepted that his being a soldier, facing live combat, could mean he could be taken from her.
And he had.
This was the first day of her new life as a woman dealing with life, accepting what had happened to her, and being the best mother she could be. Not a widow. The word was so full of grief, so depressing, and if she stopped thinking of herself that way it might make it easier to move forward.
She had loved her husband. In her heart she knew no one could ever attempt or threaten to replace William. He had been too special, too important to her.
But she did want to keep a smile on her face and try to be happy. If Alex’s company helped her do that, then she wasn’t going to feel bad about it.
CHAPTER FOUR
THERE was something nice about having a man in the house again. Although Alex wasn’t technically in the house, having him in the cabin was equally as good.
She’d never felt nervous, exactly—not out here—but there had always been a certain element of unease that she’d never been able to shake. A longing to have a man at home every night. Someone to protect the fort. Someone in the window if you came home after dark.
It was stupid, but it was true. She was a woman and she liked to feel protected and nurtured.
The phone rang. She saw the caller identification as it flashed across the little screen.
Great.
Lisa had been avoiding her sister since Alex had arrived, but Anna wasn’t someone who took to being avoided very well. Her mother? Well, she wasn’t so bad, but her sister could be downright painful sometimes.
“Hey, Anna.” She put on her best sing-song voice as she answered the phone. If Lisa didn’t talk to her now, Anna would be likely to turn up here before dark to check on her.
“Hello, stranger.”
Lisa could tell her sister was worried. She had that slightly high-pitched note to her voice. “Sorry, hon, I’ve just been flat out trying to get these recipes in order.”
“You still need a life, though, right?” Anna said.
Lisa glanced out the window and spied Alex working on a cabin window. He was trying to force it open. Did having him here constitute having a life?
“Hmm, I know. I just want this book to be good.”
“They’re always good,” her sister replied instantly.
The vote of confidence helped.
“How about you and some of the girls come by on Saturday afternoon for a tasting?” Lisa suggested.
“Love to. Want me to organize it?”
“Sounds good,” Lisa agreed.
“Just the usual gang?” Anna asked.
Five women were plenty, Lisa thought. “Yup—and Mom.”
She heard Anna flicking through what she presumed was her calendar. That girl knew what everyone was up to!
“Nope. Mom has that charity fundraiser meeting going on. I’ll tell her you asked, though,” Anna said.
Lisa tucked the phone beneath her ear and rinsed her hands in the sink. Her eyes were still firmly locked on Alex.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Lisa nodded.
“I can’t hear you if you’re nodding,” her sister said dryly.
Damn it! It was like Anna had secret cameras installed in the house!
“I’m fine. I just need to get all this sorted,” Lisa told her.
“Need me to come by?” Anna asked.
“No!” she yelled. “I mean, no. I’m fine.” The silence on the other end told her she hadn’t convinced her sister. “Come by with the girls on Saturday afternoon. I just need some time and we’ll catch up then, okay?”
As Lisa said her goodbyes and hung up the phone she felt guilty. She usually shared everything with her sister. Everything. And yet she had a very big something hanging around out back, staying with her for the next few weeks, and she had omitted even to mention it.
Lilly was marching back and forth outside, Boston at her heels. She had a huge stick in her hand—one that Alex had no doubt cut down before she’d claimed it.
Lisa went about fiddling with quantities and ingredients, dragging her eyes from the window.
She couldn’t deny that she liked what she saw. But then what woman wouldn’t?
Alex walked inside with Lilly on his hip. He’d thought the dog was going to attack when he’d first picked her up, but after a few gentle words and a futile attempt to stop the kid crying he had hoisted her up and into the house.
But his feet had stopped before they’d found her mom.
Lilly’s cries had become diluted to gentle hiccups. It was awkward, holding her so close, but he’d had little choice. It had been a very long time since he’d held another human being like that.
Lisa was swaying in time to the beat of the music playing loudly in the kitchen. Her hair was caught back off her face with a spotted kerchief, and she had a splodge or two of flour on her cheek. The pink apron added to his discomfort. It had pulled her top down with it, and she was displaying more cleavage than he guessed she would usually show.
And she still hadn’t noticed them above the hum of the music.
“Huh-hmm.” He cleared his throat. Then again—louder.
She looked up, lips moving to the lyrics. Her mouth stopped, wide open, before she clamped it shut.
Lilly burst into much louder tears as soon as her mother noticed her, and all Alex could do was hold her out at a peculiar angle until Lisa swept her into her own arms.
“Baby, what happened?”
The lips that had been singing and smiling only moments earlier fell in a series of tiny kisses to her daughter’s head. Lisa nursed her as she moved to turn off the speaker that was belting out the tunes.
“Shh, now. It’s all right—you just got a fright,” Lisa crooned.
She hugged her daughter tight. Alex couldn’t take his eyes off them. It tugged something inside him, pushed at something that he hadn’t felt in a long while.
“How about Alex tells me what happened while you catch your breath?” she murmured.
He cringed. Taking care of kids wasn’t his thing. This one might have taken a shine to him, but he had no experience. No idea at all. “I’m sorry, she just…ah…she fell from a tree. I should have been watching her. I…”
Lisa drew her eyebrows together and waved at him with her free hand. “She’s a child, Alex. And she’s my child. If anyone should feel bad for not watching her it’s me.”
A touch of weight left his shoulders. But not all of it.
“I was…”
“Enough.” She put Lilly down and crouched beside her. “If you wrap children in cotton wool they can’t have any fun. Tumbles and bruises are all part of being a child.”
He swallowed. Hard. She was inspecting Lilly, checking her, but she wasn’t angry.
“You’re fine, honey. How about you go play in your room for a while? Take it easy, okay?”
Lilly was still doing the odd snuffle, but Lisa simply gave her a pat on the head and blew her a kiss.
“I’m
sorry,” he muttered.
“Alex! For the last time, it was not your fault. Do I look angry?” she asked.
He ran his eyes over her face. He had seen her look worried before, concerned, but, no, not angry.
She obviously wasn’t like most moms.
“You’re just in time to try a few things,” she said, changing the subject.
That sounded scary. He followed her, then sat down at the counter. Same spot he’d ended up when he’d arrived.
“I want your opinion on this slice. And this pastry.”
That didn’t sound too hard, he thought.
She straightened her apron and wiped at her cheek. He was almost disappointed when the smudge disappeared.
“What’s your book called?” he asked curiously.
She turned around, turning her wide smile on him. “I’m thinking Lisa’s Treats, but my editor will probably have other ideas.”
Huh? “Doesn’t that bother you?”
She fiddled with a tray, then scooped a tiny pastry something onto her fingers.
“What?”
“Not being able to choose the title yourself?” he explained.
She raised an eyebrow before lifting the pastry to his mouth. He opened it. How could he not? She was holding something that smelt delicious in front of it.
“They know how to sell books. I just know how to write what’s inside. Good?”
He swallowed. Very good. “Good,” he agreed.
“Just good?” she probed.
That made him nervous. Hadn’t she just asked for good? “Great?” he tried.
“Hmm, I’d prefer excellent.” She whisked away, and then twirled back to him. “Try this.”
Once again she thrust something into his mouth.
Oh. Yes. “Incredible.”
“Good.” She had a triumphant look on her face.
He was still confused, but he tried to stay focused on the food. If he didn’t look at the food he’d have to look at her. And the niggle in his chest was telling him that could be dangerous. Very dangerous.
“And this?”
This time when she twirled around she had a spoon covered in a gooey mixture. It looked decadent. Delicious. Just like her.
“Last up—my new chocolate icing.”
She leaned across the counter toward him. Too close. He fought the urge to lean back, to literally fall off the stool to get away from her. Lisa’s eyes danced over his. The connection between them scared him rigid.
He sucked air through his nostrils and tried to stop his hands from becoming clammy.
Lisa held the spoon in the air, waiting for him to taste from it. He gathered courage and obeyed, his face ending up way too close to hers.
“Good?”
He could almost feel her breath on his skin. Or was he imagining it? He raised his eyes an inch. She didn’t pull away. There was a beat where he wondered if she ever would.
“Excellent.” He was learning how to play this game. Praise at least one word higher than what she’d asked for.
“Okay—that’s me done for the day, then,” she announced briskly.
She walked away from him fast. Like she’d been burnt. The flush over his own skin was making him feel the same. He glanced around the kitchen. At the trays littered across the bench, the dishes piled in the sink and the ingredients scattered. Maybe it would be polite to help, but he needed to get out of here. Put some distance between them.
Yet still he lingered. Good manners overrode emotion.
“Want a hand with all this?” he asked tentatively.
She gave him a cheeky grin. “Want a hand outside?”
Alex shrugged his acquiescence. Inside, his lungs screamed.
“Great, then I’ll leave this till later,” she told him happily.
Two hours later Alex was still working outside while she tinkered inside the cabin. She flicked a duster around all the surfaces, before giving the bed a good thump and making it with the linen she’d brought out.
She liked having him here. Every hour that passed she couldn’t help but think she’d done the right thing asking him to stay. It wasn’t just the effect he had on Lilly, he affected her too.
All went quiet outside, and he appeared in the doorway. His body filled the entire frame.
“How you getting on out there?” she asked. She could see a line of sweat starting to make a trickle across his forehead. It made her gulp. He was…well, very manly. And it was doing something to her, if the caged bird beating its wings with fury inside her stomach was any sort of gauge.
“Getting there.”
She used her head to indicate where the water was. He followed.
“Thinking it will take longer to get this place habitable?” she asked.
He shook his head.
If she’d just spent years at war, and years before that in army bunkers, she’d probably think the cabin wasn’t half bad either. Lisa fiddled with the duster and then stopped. She pinned her eyes on him. “Alex, I was thinking—did you actually see…you know…how William died?”
His shoulders hunched. He stopped guzzling water like he’d just emerged from the desert and stayed still. Deathly still.
So he did know.
It didn’t matter if he didn’t want to tell her. She already knew William had died from multiple bullet wounds. She’d just always wondered how. Why? What had actually happened over there? Who had fired? For what reason?
He dropped to an armchair in the corner. Dust thumped out of it but he seemed oblivious to it. Lisa knew she’d been wrong in asking so soon, but she couldn’t take it back. Not yet. Not now.
The question hung between them.
“We were…” He took a long pause before continuing. “I mean, we came under fire.”
She sat down too. On the bed. Despite just having made it.
“They think there was one, maybe two guys waiting for us. Snipers.”
She could see the torment on his face. The emotion of pulling memories to the surface again. But she wanted to know.
“I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it.” Alex jumped to his feet and walked out the door. Fast.
Lisa sighed. She should never have pushed him. It was too early to be asking him things like that. Things that didn’t really matter anymore. Not when nothing could be done about it.
“Alex, wait.” She rushed out after him.
Emotion seeped from him. She could see it. Feel it. Smell it. He practically radiated hurt and confusion as she walked slowly up behind him. He had one hand braced against a tree. The other hung at his side. She stopped inches away from him, her body close to his. She didn’t touch him.
“I’m sorry, Alex. I had no right to ask you that.”
In a way she was lying. She did have the right to know. But not yet. Not until he was ready to tell.
She stood there for a moment. Watching him. Waiting. “We need some ground rules. If you want to talk about what happened, you can—anytime.” She paused. “But I won’t ask you about it again.”
She sensed relief from him. He swiveled—just slightly, but their eyes met. She understood. She still struggled with telling people that William was gone sometimes. Felt all alone and lost.
“When you’re ready to talk, tell me,” she reiterated.
He just stared at her. His eyes acknowledged her words with a faint flicker.
“Sound okay to you?” she pressed.
“Yeah.” His voice lacked punch.
Lisa turned and went back into the cabin. He needed some tender loving care. There was obviously no one to give it to him. But she wasn’t going to ask him about that either.
This had to be a safe place for him. A place where there was no pressure and where nobody asked him questions they had no right to ask. At least not yet. Not before he trusted her. Not until she had made him feel comfortable enough to talk. Not until he’d had time.
And she wanted him to hang around, so the last thing she was going to do was push him away. He made her
feel close to William, somehow. Comforted her.
Alex lay on the bed. It was almost too short for him, but if he kept his legs slightly bent he fit fine. Besides, it wasn’t the bed that was stopping him from falling asleep.
It was Lisa.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw her. Sometimes Lilly was there as well. But he saw Lisa every time.
When they were open he saw her too.
It was a no-win situation.
Today had been tough. The hard labor had done him good, fired him up and taken the edge off his turbulent emotions. But being in such close proximity to a woman he found so darn attractive had put even more strain on him.
He was guilty. Guilty as a man who’d just committed a crime. Guilty as a bird who’d just stolen a piece of bread. And he hated it.
When he’d agreed to come here, to visit William’s widow, he’d formed a picture in his mind of what it would be like. She would be plain, pleasant, standing in the doorway with a child beside her and one hand on an extended pregnant stomach. She would fall to her knees crying as he said the words he’d rehearsed. He’d pass her the things, put one hand on her shoulder as comfort, then turn and walk away.
Turning back had never been part of the plan. Neither had getting caught up in the emotion of her pain.
But then he’d also banked on the guilt falling away once he’d fulfilled his promise. Rather than wishing the woman before him was his own wife and that he’d just arrived back home. Or that he could just die, then and there, and give her her husband back.
He felt the excruciating guilt again now, like a knife through his chest. Saw everything flash beneath his eyelids as if it was happening all over again.
He turned as William called his name. So fast, so quick. He looked up, tripped as William launched himself at him and threw him to the ground.
A round of bullets echoed just before they hit the ground, then more. Punching through the air. Then the wet, warm splatter of blood hit him in the face.
He opened his eyes and found William staring at him, gasping.
The sniper was gone. Silence thrummed through the air like it was alive.
He moved William off him, gently. Placed him on the ground, on his back, propping his head up and listening hard to his rasping words. William ordered him to take the photo in his pocket, scrawled the name and address of his wife, then whispered words for her. He told him where to find the letters he had waiting for her at camp. To give them to her. To find her. Then he took his last breath.