Someday Soon

by Debbie Macomber

  “Nowhere. We rode down in the elevator together and went our separate ways.”

  “That’s all?” Nancy sounded terribly disappointed.

  “What do you know about him?” Linette asked, her curiosity overriding her hesitation. She would have preferred to keep any inquisitiveness low key and any questions indirect. Linette feared Nancy would leap on Linette’s interest in Cain and make something out of it that it wasn’t.

  “Rob and Cain attended high school together.”

  That much Linette knew.

  “Cain went into the military after graduation. From what Rob said, he’s only talked to Cain twice in the last twenty years. The first time was about a year or so after Rob was out of college. Cain phoned him and they chatted. Apparently he was a member of the Special Forces and had spent a good deal of time in Asia.”

  “Asia?” Linette repeated slowly.

  “That’s what Rob said. When I quizzed him, he couldn’t recall much more of their conversation, which is understandable seeing that it was several years back. Apparently some of their friends have asked about Cain over the years, but no one’s heard from him. When it came time for their class reunion, no one had an address for him. Apparently Rob’s the only one he’s kept in contact with from his high school days.

  “When Cain phoned last week, Rob was thrilled. The two met for lunch, but Rob said Cain skillfully managed to steer the conversation away from himself.”

  “He did that with me, too.”

  “From what little Rob was able to glean, Cain’s involved in some kind of undercover activity that consists of rescuing political hostages.”

  A chill raced up Linette’s back.

  “You’d think he’d be ready to retire soon. He’s got in twenty years or more by now.”

  He wasn’t ready. Linette hadn’t a clue how she knew that, but she did. Cain was a man who enjoyed living on the edge, who felt a rush of excitement when he could look danger in the face and not blink.

  “He didn’t ask to see you again?” Nancy spoke as if she suspected Linette were holding back vital information.

  “No.” Cain McClellan had come into her life like the softest of whispers and disappeared before she’d had the opportunity to decipher his message.

  Cain knew Francine Holden was the perfect physical therapist for Tim Mallory the moment he laid eyes on her. He also knew Mallory wouldn’t agree with him. The highly recommended therapist was a no-nonsense professional who wouldn’t put up with any of his friend’s usual guff. If Francine Holden was only half as good as Dr. Benton claimed, his colleague had a chance of regaining the use of his right leg. Something that had seemed impossible eighteen months earlier.

  It wouldn’t be easy, but then nothing in his business ever was. Thank God Mallory was a fighter. If not, he would have died in a Nicaraguan jungle. Francine wasn’t a shy, retiring soul whom Mallory would easily intimidate with his temper tantrums and wildly swinging moods.

  “Dr. Benton recommended you highly for the job,” he said to the woman who sat across from him. Sitting didn’t disguise her height. Cain guessed she was close to six feet, with a build that resembled that of a weight lifter. She’d need strength if she was going to be lifting Mallory around. Francine wore her long blond hair in a French braid that stretched halfway down the middle of her back. Her eyes were blue and wide, by far her most striking feature, set deep in a face that was remarkably plain.

  “May I see your friend’s latest X rays?” she asked, ignoring his compliment. When Cain handed them to her, she held the first set up to the light. “How’d this happen?” she asked.

  Cain weighed how much he should tell her and decided he’d be doing them both a disservice with anything less than the truth. “The damage to the knee and hip are the result of a booby trap.”

  “Booby trap? You mean as in a land mine?”

  “Something like that.” Cain shifted back on his chair and crossed his legs. “We were in Central America at the time, on a mission.”

  Slowly her intensely blue eyes left the X rays to connect with his. “What agency were you with?”

  “None. We’re mercenaries.”

  “Doing what?”

  He shrugged, unwilling to give her any more information than necessary. “What we were paid to do.”

  “I see.”

  Cain watched her reaction, surprised that she revealed none, at least none he could read.

  “How many reconstructive surgeries has your friend been through?” It was back to business, and Cain was impressed with the casual way in which she responded to the information.

  “Ten surgeries in the last eighteen months.”

  She motioned to the X ray. “When were these taken?”

  “Two weeks ago.”

  “What’s your friend’s mental state?” she asked before handing him back the film.

  “About what you’d expect,” he said evasively. Mallory had already gone through a handful of therapists. The latest hadn’t lasted more than two days.

  “In other words he’s depressed, angry, and has done his best to shut out the world.”

  Cain felt his lips quiver involuntarily with a smile. “Something like that.”

  “I’m not a miracle worker, Mr. McClellan.”

  “All I’m asking is that you give it a shot. I’m willing to pay you top dollar.” More if need be. Mallory was a good friend, damn good. Perhaps the best Cain had ever had. He hadn’t left him in the jungle to die, and he wouldn’t desert him now, either.

  “It isn’t a question of money,” Francine returned smoothly. “It has to do with grit and spirit. I’ve been a therapist several years, and I’ve seen a number of cases similar to your friend’s here. At this point he doesn’t care if he lives or dies. What happened to his body can’t compare with the damage done to his soul.”

  Cain was amazed by how accurately she’d analyzed Mallory’s emotional state. “Can you help him?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s up to him,” she said thoughtfully. “I can make a more accurate assessment once I meet him.”

  “Great.” Cain eagerly sprang to his feet. “Let’s take care of that right now.”

  A brief smile brightened her plain features. “Have you told him I’m coming?”

  Cain hesitated. “No.”

  “Good.”

  “It’s probably better he doesn’t know you’re a therapist,” Cain suggested, preferring to delay another of Mallory tantrums. The minute his cohort learned that he’d hired another therapist, there was sure to be trouble.

  “We won’t be able to keep it from him long,” Francine said evenly. “He’ll figure it out soon enough.”

  She was right. One look at this titan of a woman and Mallory would know exactly why he’d brought her to meet him.

  From the glint in her deep blue eyes, Cain guessed this was a woman who thrived on challenge. All the better, because Mallory was going to demand every ounce of fortitude she possessed.

  He led her through the house he’d rented on Russian Hill. Taken with the panoramic view of the Bay, Cain had also liked the countrylike lanes and terraced houses. Perhaps he was thinking the atmosphere would help Mallory, but if that was the case, the high rent area had been an expensive mistake. Mallory had made a prison out of the back bedroom.

  Greg, Mallory’s attendant, was leaving the room as they approached. He looked from Cain to Francine and then back at Cain.

  “He’s having a bad day,” Greg announced. His expression suggested they’d be better off returning at a later date.

  “As long as he’s in the shape he’s in now,” Francine said without waiting for Cain to respond, “every day’s a bad day.”

  Greg smiled and nodded. “Good luck,” he said as he stepped away from the door.

  Cain knocked once and walked inside without waiting for a response. The room was dark, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Mallory was sitting in the corner farthest from the door, with a blanket o
ver his legs. The once robust man had lost seventy pounds in the last year and a half. His eyes had shrunk back into his head, and his hair was long enough to brush his shoulders. At a glance, he looked like hell. Cain wanted to shout at him, tell him to snap out of this, but he wasn’t the one with a shattered hipbone and a knee that had been blown all to shit.

  Cain could walk out of this house. Mallory couldn’t stand up, let alone walk. It was easy to make judgments from this side of a wheelchair. Feeling helpless, Cain did what he could, but it seemed like damn little.

  “I’m not in the mood for company,” Mallory muttered.

  “I brought someone for you to meet,” Cain said. It would take more than a sour mood to get rid of him.

  “Another time, perhaps.” Mallory’s voice was strained, the frustration and anger leaking through the words.

  Francine moved away from Cain and reached for the light switch, flipping it on. The room was instantly bathed in a warm glow.

  Automatically Mallory’s hands went to shade his eyes, and he cursed under his breath. Cain watched as his friend’s angry glare connected with the therapist’s gaze.

  “Hello, Mr. Mallory,” Francine said brightly, “I’m Francine Holden.”

  Mallory glared disdainfully at Cain as if he’d stabbed him in the back. “Get rid of her.”

  “Now, Mallory—”

  “I said get rid of her.”

  “I could get offended, but I won’t,” Francine said, chuckling. Cain swore he heard a tinge of glee in her laugh and loved it. This was going to work out far better than he’d hoped.

  “We’re going to become friends, Mallory,” Francine said. “Real good friends. For the next two months, I’m going to stick to you like glue, and when I’m through with you,” she said, firmly planting her hand on her hip, “I guarantee you won’t be sitting in a dark room with a blanket over your head to close out the world.”

  Mallory ignored her. “All I want is peace and quiet. Is that so much to ask?” he demanded. Cain could almost feel the anger emanate off Mallory in waves. “It’s the season, you know.”

  “Your muscles can’t wait while you sit around feeling sorry for yourself.” Francine lowered her gaze to his mangled left leg, peeking out from beneath the blanket. Mallory covered it quickly. “Every day without therapy, you risk never regaining the use of that leg. You want to walk again, don’t you?”

  For the first time Mallory focused the full force of his attention on her. “I don’t need you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve never needed anyone more in your life.”

  Mallory responded with a low snicker.

  “We’ll get started first thing this afternoon,” Francine announced, speaking to Cain. She pushed up the sleeves of her thin sweater as if she could hardly wait to get going.

  “Cain?” Mallory pleaded silently for assistance, but Cain purposely looked away. A minute passed before a string of abusive threats colored the air.

  “I’m pleased to see you have such an extensive vocabulary,” Francine said. “I imagine you’ll be using it over the next couple of months. Judging by those X rays, this isn’t going to be easy. I promise you one thing, you’ll never work harder in your life. But by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be walking. Now,” she said, her words bright and cheerful, “are you man enough to accept this challenge, or do you want someone who’ll tuck you in at night and read you bedtime stories for the rest of your life?”

  “Cain, I’m warning you,” Mallory said between clenched teeth. His eyes were as dark and menacing as Cain had ever seen. “Get rid of this Amazon.”

  “I won’t do that,” Cain said mildly. “She may be your last chance.”

  “I don’t want this,” Mallory muttered, and rubbed a hand over his face. “And I don’t want her.” He gestured toward Francine. “If you think I need a woman, fine, send me a woman, not Attila the Hun.”

  Cain glanced at Francine, wondering if Mallory had offended her. Apparently not. Her face remained expressionless.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, “we just need to get to know each other better. Before long we’re going to be real good friends.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Tim Mallory muttered.

  “Oh, but I am,” she countered, grinning broadly as she walked out the door.

  Cain followed, waited until there wasn’t any chance Mallory could hear him and asked, “What are his chances?”

  “Good,” Francine said without hesitating. “Very good. He’s got plenty of spunk. Trust me, he’ll need every ounce of that tenacity. We’ll start right away.”

  Cain paused. “I apologize for the things Mallory said.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” was her automatic response, but a look flashed in her eyes that told Cain his friend’s words had hit their mark. “I know I’m no raving beauty, but that’s not why you’re hiring me.”

  Perhaps not, but if she could bring Mallory out of this depression and help him walk again, Cain would believe she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

  3

  Cain needed to do some Christmas shopping. That was why he’d come to Fisherman’s Wharf. At least that was the excuse he’d used when he found himself wandering aimlessly along the waterfront.

  The harder he worked to convince himself his being there had nothing to do with Linette Collins, the more obvious the truth became. Hell, he could have arranged for damn near anything he wanted over the phone with little more than a credit card and a catalog number.

  The only reason he was on the wharf was the ridiculous hope he’d catch a glimpse of Linette. Just one. Without her knowing. Why he found it so necessary to spy on her, he didn’t know. Didn’t want to know.

  As it happened, he located her yarn shop tucked in a corner along Pier 39, the window display as charming and inviting as the woman herself. He stood outside several moments, his hands buried in his lambskin-lined jacket.

  Uncomfortable emotions came at him like poisoned darts, infecting him with all the might-have-beens in his life. He’d chosen this lifestyle, thrived on the challenge. No drug could produce the physical or emotional high of a successfully completed mission. No drug and no woman.

  Then why was he standing in the cold like a lovelorn teenager, hoping for a glimpse of a widow he’d met briefly one night at a Christmas party? Clearly there were a few screws loose. The military had a word for this: battle fatigue. What he needed was a few uninterrupted days by himself to put his life back in the proper perspective.

  Montana. Christmas was the perfect excuse to escape for a few days. It was long past time that he visited his ranch. He heard from the foreman he’d hired every now and again, but it had been well over a year since Cain had last visited the five-thousand-acre spread.

  His strides filled with purpose, he walked along the pier until he saw a sign for World Wide Travel. After stepping inside the agency, he moved to the counter and waited his turn. A smartly dressed professional greeted him with a smile and arranged for his airline ticket to Helena, Montana. The only seats available were in first class, but Cain could well afford the extravagance. It was a small price to pay to escape San Francisco and the beautiful widow who’d captured his mind.

  Experiencing a small sense of satisfaction, Cain tucked the airline ticket into the inside pocket of his jacket and continued on his way, moving down the waterfront and farther away from Linette. Farther away from temptation.

  He was just beginning to think he had this minor curiosity licked when out of the blue, he saw her. For a moment it felt as if someone had inadvertently hit him against the back of the head. He went stock-still.

  From the way her shoulders hunched forward he could see that she was tired. She stood in line at a fish and chips place, working to open the clasp of her shoulder bag. The wind whipped her hair about her face, and she lifted a finger to wrap a thick strand of dark hair around her ear.

  The smart thing to do was to turn around, without delay, and walk away as
fast as his feet would carry him. He’d gotten what he wanted. One last look at her, without her knowing. His curiosity should be satisfied.

  Even as his mind formulated the thought, Cain knew just seeing Linette again wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted to talk to her and get to know her. He wanted to sit down across a table from her and discover what it was about her that made a man who’d built his life around pride and discipline risk making a world-class fool of himself.

  Linette was exhausted. She couldn’t remember a day when she’d done a more brisk business. Instead of celebrating over the highest gross income achieved in a single workday, she felt like falling into bed and sleeping for a week. She wanted to ignore Christmas, the hustle and bustle, the joy and goodwill.

  It was Nancy’s news, too, Linette realized. It wasn’t that she begrudged Rob and Nancy every happiness. She was thrilled for them. Yet it was all so painful. She ached for the child she’d never have with Michael and all the dreams they’d once shared.

  Christmas, coupled with the anniversary of Michael’s death and the news of the baby, weighed down her heart as surely as if it had been tied with concrete blocks and carelessly flung into the Bay.

  As she advanced toward the take-out window, Linette realized she wasn’t hungry. What appetite she’d had vanished. Stepping out of line, she secured the clasp of her purse and turned to head up the wharf.

  It was then that she saw Cain. Linette’s heart gave a short, rapid-fire reaction. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, he’d been in her thoughts most of the day.

  His eyes locked with hers as if the distance, the shoppers, the crowded sidewalk and endless traffic, in no way separated them. As if all she had to do were reach out and, like magic, he’d be standing there, directly in front of her.

  At precisely the same moment they started walking toward each other, their gazes continuing to hold them as effectively as an embrace.

  “Hello.” Cain spoke first.

  “Hi.” She smiled, or at least attempted one. “Fancy meeting you here.”