by Jodie Bailey
“You were right.” She couldn’t let him take the heat for her choices. “You gave me advice, and I didn’t have to follow it. I chose to run because I was scared, and that’s not your fault. You were the excuse.”
“Now what?” Ethan echoed her earlier question.
“Good question.” One Meghan didn’t have an answer to. She watched Tate as he talked, his posture saying he was in this game until the end, whenever that may be. And after that? He’d probably be in the wind again on an op, as unreachable as ever. She’d never ask him to deny the life he loved to settle down with her. So, now what?
She had no idea.
* * *
Her cup of coffee long cold, Meghan sat on the front steps of the farmhouse where her dreams had once lived and studied the dark driveway, where a rogue piece of yellow police tape fluttered from a tree. She’d spent the late afternoon and evening boarding up the front windows and fighting off a restless sadness that refused to be shaken.
A tactical team had swept the area around the Virginia safe house and discovered an SUV containing Phoebe’s laptops and servers, which Ashley had started combing as soon as she could get them. After a once-over by the paramedics, the team had been separated and driven to Washington for debriefing.
Meghan had been questioned for hours then detained for two days until Ashley was able to prove Meghan hadn’t been working with the enemy. Cell phone records and computer hard drives had yielded a gold mine against Phoebe and Craig Mitchum. There had also been enough to send several Special Forces teams in to put a stop to the cells who’d aligned with Phoenix to destroy the power grid.
When no evidence implicating Meghan was found, she’d flown alone to Michigan, arriving at the farmhouse early in the afternoon, wanting to say goodbye before she returned to Flint to pack her apartment and went...where?
She’d battled within herself, spent hours in a small room with a cot and a TV at headquarters praying. For herself, for Tate...for the hurt to go away and to be able to forgive. For God to help her do whatever came next. And to let go of the love she was pretty sure would never diminish for Tate Walker.
But they’d have to. Since he’d been separated from her at the house, there hadn’t been a word. Her cell phone lying on the steps beside her had been silent, save a call from Yvonne with an apology as big as the other woman’s heart. Phoebe’s blackmail was horrific, the threat to Yvonne’s family terrifying. She’d issued an invitation for Meghan to return to the school, but Meghan’s heart wasn’t with the school.
It was still here. In this house, with kids who needed her. But even though her savings account was large, it wasn’t large enough to fund the start-up of a home like this one.
Staying here was impossible, anyway. Despite the fact that he’d only spent a single day on the farm, the property leaked memories of Tate. Because at some point along the way, he’d become part of the dream. Maybe had been all along.
Thinking was getting her nowhere. Meghan drained her cold coffee and stood, determined to sleep tonight, unlike the previous night or the night before.
Headlights cut through the trees. Setting her cup on the rail, Meghan waited, tense, still not quite convinced life was safe again.
A Jeep pulled closer and stopped at the edge of the clearing. The headlights flickered three times, paused, then flashed twice more.
Tate.
Not sure whether to cry or laugh, Meghan froze on the top step. Her heart beat harder, shooting electricity to her toes. Just when she’d decided it was finished...
He climbed out of the Jeep, his silhouette dark against the trees, and crossed the yard without the hesitation he’d harbored a few nights ago. He looked the exact same yet...different, as though the past week had changed him.
“’Bout time you got here.” Meghan winced when the words choked on emotion she wasn’t ready to reveal.
“Didn’t realize we had a date.” He stopped at the foot of the stairs, his black T-shirt making his green eyes brighter than ever. They focused exclusively on her. “Unless you’re telling me I have a standing invitation?”
He could have whatever he wanted, but not knowing where things stood, she swallowed the sentiment. He was probably there to say goodbye before he headed off on another mission. Flitting around the world was what he did. And he did it well. She’d never take his passion from him. “Where’s the next destination? Or is it classified?”
Something similar to amusement flickered in his expression, and it hit Meghan what was different. The lines around his mouth had almost vanished, as though a tension had released. And looking at her now, something in his expression softened even more. “As it turns out, there was a reward for anyone giving us enough information to stop Phoenix for good.”
“A reward.” Her heart picked up speed. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
“It’s a big one.” He stepped one step closer to her. “Big enough to make dreams come true for a whole lot of kids who could use some dreams of their own. And it’s yours.”
Meghan’s breath caught in her throat. Her hand went to her mouth. “I can still—”
“You can still start the foster home. And, if I’m any good at math at all, you can run it for a long time.”
Tears she hadn’t even felt coming broke through and coursed down her cheeks; prayers she hadn’t even dared to speak were answered right in front of her. She sniffed. There was still one unspoken prayer. “What about you?”
Tate climbed the final step, and the heat of him telegraphed to her, his hooded gaze drifting to her lips, then to her eyes. “You tell me.” His hands eased to her sides, warm through her thin T-shirt, releasing a shiver to wrap around her spine and drop her stomach like the best kind of carnival ride.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He slipped his arms around her, pulling her against him, his lips brushing her temple before easing to her ear. “I need a job.”
Meghan could hardly breathe. “What kind?” The question didn’t even qualify as a whisper.
He pulled away enough to smile into her eyes. “Something permanent. Like...till-death-do-us-part permanent.” He leaned closer, his lips a whisper from hers. “Know of anything?”
There was no need to respond. Meghan closed the gap, pulling him closer, losing herself in a kiss that promised her the world they’d already seen together. That promised her the future they weren’t supposed to have...and the dreams that were finally coming true.
EPILOGUE
Meghan leaned against a porch post and crossed her arms, watching the progress on the backyard. The paint fumes in the den where she’d been working with some of the wives from the volunteer fire department left her needing a good dose of fresh air. The Saturday after Thanksgiving was chilly; the air cleared her head and reminded her how much she truly had to be thankful for.
Tate had gathered their small circle of friends to help on the holiday weekend as they put the final touches on the house. There was still plenty of legal red tape to push through, but soon they’d have their own foundation for foster children. One they’d run here, together.
The thought of starting “forever” with Tate in this house still thrilled in her stomach. She ran her thumb along the back of the ring he’d presented her on the Fourth of July. The sooner the house was finished, the sooner they could abandon their separate apartments, finally plan a wedding and move in here together.
So much change in the past few months. It still amazed her, all that Tate had brought to her life in these few short months. Changes that included a whole new kind of family.
Aside from the women in the living room, there was a crew from the school painting bedrooms upstairs. The youth from the church Tate and she now attended were busy at the far end of the backyard, stacking stones around a brick-lined fire pit. In the kitchen, Ethan, Ashl
ey, Sean and his fiancée, Jessica, were painting cabinets and walls, having stayed on after a celebratory Thanksgiving dinner a couple of days before.
On the opposite side of the yard, the skeleton of a gazebo stood abandoned, the volunteer firemen away answering a call.
Meghan grinned. For all of Tate’s need to settle down, a small part of him still sought to help others—and to chase the occasional adrenaline rush—and he’d found his place in the volunteer fire department that protected their community.
The porch floor creaked behind her. “You’ve got paint on your forehead.” Tate’s voice ran the best kind of cold chills along her arms.
He appeared at her right shoulder and swiped his thumb across her skin, showing her the proof before swiping the paint onto his jeans.
She leaned into his chest, letting him bear her weight, still shocked at how easy it had been to trust him once she’d let God work on the broken places inside. There were still times when she needed reassurance, but the more days that passed, the fewer those moments became. “You’re back fast.”
“False alarm.”
“Hmm.” She laid her hands against his chest, firm beneath his sweatshirt, and enjoyed the feel of being near him for a moment. But then she straightened and eyed something near the fire pit, something that was definitely out of place. “Tate? Why’s there a six-foot penguin in the yard? Dressed like a firefighter?” All work on the fire pit had stopped as the youth lined up to laugh at and high-five some sort of huge penguin mascot.
Tate laughed, running a hand down her arm, leaving a warm shiver behind. “Funny story about that.”
“Do tell.”
“That’s Joe. He’s a volunteer in the next town over. I was on my way back from the call when I saw this...this penguin wearing turnout gear standing beside the road next to an old pickup.”
“This sounds like the start of a very bad joke.”
“Yeah, but it’s true.” He planted a kiss on the top of her head. “He was at one of the churches doing a program on fire safety and how the kids shouldn’t be afraid of firemen in gear, even though they can look scary. His station got the same call we did, so he took off still suited up, but his truck broke down and here we are.”
“He came to entertain the kids? They’re a bit old for that.” Still, it was cute watching Joe the Firefighting Penguin pretend to direct the fire pit build while the kids saluted. Laughter drifted across the yard as Joe kept up the game. He kept looking their way though, as if he was more interested in the happenings on the porch than in the yard.
“No.” Tate shook his head, eyes taking on that spark that said he was about to bring on some sort of new surprise. “He’s actually here for something else.”
“To teach you not to pick up strangers by the side of the road?”
“I’ve told you before—you’re not half as funny as you think you are.” Tate pulled her to stand in front of him and wrapped his arms around her waist, his green eyes boring into hers. “Joe’s a preacher. Young kid, fresh out of seminary.”
“And?” She was having trouble following. When he looked at her like that, it made her want to drag him to the nearest courthouse to get married right then. She’d held out so far, but she wasn’t sure either of them could live apart much longer.
“And all of our friends are here.”
Something in his voice tweaked at her heart, amping up the beat to double time. “And?”
“And in the state of Michigan, it only takes one party to go to the courthouse and get a marriage license issued.”
Meghan tried to back away from him, but he held tight. “What are you saying?” And please let it be what I think it is.
“That since the house is pretty much finished, I had this grand plan to drive you up to Mackinac Island and marry you before Christmas. I took your ID last week and got a license, but...” He let his gaze sweep hers, then the yard around them. “But now I’m thinking you and I have never been close to normal. And you? You never got to do all of those great kiddo things like going to theme parks and meeting all of those cartoon characters the rest of us grew up with. We have our family here and we have Joe the Firefighting Penguin Preacher here and...” When his eyes came back to hers, they were burning with the kind of fire she’d always wanted to dive into. “And I’m very, very sure I don’t want to wait another minute.” He dipped his head and brushed a kiss over her lips, whispering against them. “So what do you say, McGuire? Marry me right this minute in this wreck of a backyard in your paint-stained blue jeans?”
Nothing in her whole life had ever sounded so right. Meghan knit her fingers together behind the back of Tate’s head and pulled him lower, answering him with a kiss that promised him the craziest wedding in the world...and every crazy day for the rest of her life.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this exciting story of
military suspense and intrigue,
pick up these other stories from Jodie Bailey
FREEFALL
CROSSFIRE
SMOKESCREEN
COMPROMISED IDENTITY
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Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Tate and Meghan’s story! These two gave me some serious fits and starts. Tate kept insisting he had no flaws that he knew of. Meghan kept telling me she didn’t need anybody’s help. For a while, they refused to work together at all. But when the characters finally let me wrangle them, they showed up on the page like no others. They may just be my favorites. I think Meghan just didn’t want the world to know about her past.
We all have a past, don’t we? I am fond of saying, “If we all got together and talked about the worst things we’ve ever done, it would probably curl all of our hair.” It’s true. We all have that something we’re not proud of, and sometimes we let our past stand in the way of our future.
Like Meghan, some of us try to bury history. This is the thing I’ve learned: the more we try to bury it, the more it controls us. When we bring it into the light, the most amazing thing happens. It’s no longer the driving force in our lives and, if we let Him, God will use it to do amazing things. Things we can’t even conceive. We just have to be brave enough to hand Him the controls.
The driving verse for Tate and Meghan’s story was Isaiah 43:18–19. I love it when God says, “See? I am doing a new thing!” Or in 2 Corinthians 5:17: “The old is gone, the new is here!” It’s there again in Revelation 21:5: “I am making everything new!” (Love how there is always an exclamation point, like God’s excited about it. He is, you know.) Over and over again, God lets us know He is all about making us new, not who we used to be, but the brilliance of who we could be. That is one of my favorite things about Jesus. And thank God He sees the new and not the old!
I would love to hear from you! You can find me on the web at www.jodiebailey.com or email me at [email protected]. Maybe you’ve got a story about how God’s “made all things new” with you. Seems to be the story of my life.
Happy reading!
Jodie Bailey
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Countdown
by Heather Woodhaven
ONE
Rachel Cooper whipped the steering wheel to the left, maneuvered through the rush-hour traffic and entered her tree-lined subdivision. Her shoulders relaxed. Each time she made the turn it was as if she’d left the city behind.
Her stomach growled at the smell of the steak burrito and chile con queso sitting in the paper sack on the passenger seat. The night’s agenda included lounging on the couch and watching her favorite shows. The idea seemed like the perfect remedy to the physical strain of styling hair for twelve hours. After a couple hours of loafing, she’d make herself burn away the calories with her nightly kickboxing video...if she didn’t justify her way to an early bedtime instead.
Rachel guided the car around the maze of bends and curves within the subdivision. Not a single street lasted more than a couple of blocks before turning and changing names. The real-estate agent explained the layout was to prevent cars from speeding, but Rachel imagined it was more about fitting as many houses as possible on the amount of land.