Love Inspired March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Wife for JacobThe Forest Ranger's RescueAlaskan Homecoming

by Rebecca Kertz

  “Lou.” There it was again. Lou. Seated in the chair beside him, Posy aimed a smile across the desk toward Pastor McNeil. “It seems there’s been some sort of misunderstanding.”

  The understatement of the century.

  Liam leaned forward in his chair. “Posy says she’s here to teach ballet.”

  “Posy?” Pastor McNeil’s face went blank for a moment. “Oh, you mean Miss Sutton. Josephine.”

  “Josephine?” Liam blinked. Had he gone mad and forgotten everyone’s name all of a sudden? Pastor McNeil was now Lou, and Posy had morphed into someone named Josephine?

  “That’s me.” Posy smiled innocently, as if up and changing one’s name was an everyday occurrence.

  Liam stared at her. “Since when?”

  “Since I left Alaska. I guess you could say it’s my stage name, and it just sort of stuck.” She shrugged, but the implied nonchalance of the gesture was belied by a barely discernible tremor in her hands, knotted in her lap. Nerves. She’d always been good at hiding them.

  And Liam had always been good at seeing the parts of her that others missed. Apparently some things, unlike names, never changed.

  Did she really expect him to call her Josephine now? He wasn’t sure he could do that. It would probably be better for everyone involved if Josephine, whoever she was, danced back to San Francisco.

  He directed his attention back to his boss. “Josephine says she’s here to teach ballet.”

  The senior pastor’s gaze flitted back and forth between the two of them before landing on Liam. “That’s right.”

  Liam shook his head. Maybe if he shook it hard enough, he could undo whatever was happening. “I don’t understand.”

  “You indicated you needed help with the after-school program, did you not?” Pastor McNeil eyed him over the top of his glasses.

  “Yes, I did.” But I said absolutely nothing about ballet.

  Liam’s boss shrugged. “You’ve got the boys busy with the competitive snowballing team, right?”

  At the mention of the word snowball, Sundog lifted his head, ears pricked forward at attention.

  “Competitive snowballing?” Posy slid her gaze toward Liam. “Seriously? That’s a thing?”

  He lifted a brow. “Yes, it’s a thing. An Alaskan thing.”

  “It’s like dodgeball, only with snowballs,” Pastor McNeil said.

  Sundog let out an excited woof. Posy nearly jumped out of her chair.

  Likening competitive snowballing to dodgeball was a rather oversimplified explanation, but it would give her a good enough idea. And Liam didn’t feel like elaborating at the moment. They weren’t here to discuss his snowball project with the boys. They were here to discuss ballet at the church. Or, if Liam had anything to do with it, the absence of ballet.

  He attempted to guide the conversation back to the matter at hand. “I’m confused. How did this come about? Posy hasn’t set foot in Alaska in seven years.”

  “Six years. Not seven. Six.” At least she hadn’t insisted he keep calling her Josephine.

  Liam’s jaw tensed. He didn’t need her to remind him how long it had been. He knew, down to the day—the day they’d graduated. It had been six years and seven months, which was closer to seven years than six.

  Pastor McNeil, who’d been quietly observing their bickering, spoke up. “As it seems you two know one another, Liam, I’m sure you’re familiar with the fact that Miss Sutton’s mother is a member of our congregation. She read about the job opening in the church bulletin and recommended her daughter for the position.”

  Posy sat up a little straighter. “It’s only temporary. For six weeks. My mother told you that, right?”

  Temporary.

  Of course it was. Now things were making more sense. She couldn’t dance while her foot was in a cast, and she needed something to do. Once her injury was healed, she’d be on the first plane out of here.

  But could Liam work with her every day for six weeks? If she’d been healthy, probably. The fact that she was injured complicated things. In a major way. He wasn’t sure he could go through that again. And he knew for a fact he couldn’t watch her go through it. Not if the past repeated itself.

  “Yes, I understand.” Pastor McNeil nodded at Posy. “But a temporary program is better than no program at all.”

  Liam decided to cut to the chase. They were talking in circles. “I’m just not sure ballet is the answer.”

  In fact, he was sure it was not the answer. So sure that he’d just about decided to form two competitive snowball teams. The girls could pelt one another with snowballs just as easily as the boys could.

  Except the girls had made it pretty clear they weren’t interested in snowballing. If only Ronnie Goodwin hadn’t hit Melody Tucker in the head with a particularly wet snowball on the first day of practice. Maybe Liam could get the girls helmets.

  Right. As if the church could afford such luxuries. There was a reason he’d chosen snowballing as a team sport for the boys. If there was one thing Alaska had in abundance, it was snow. Free for the taking.

  What he needed to do most of all was get a handle on the apparent feud between Ronnie and Melody. The two teens couldn’t stand one another. Lately, their disagreements had begun to spill over and affect the rest of the kids in youth group. And that was a problem—a problem he could deal with, however, unlike ballet. Ballet was an enemy he no longer had the will to fight. He’d been on the losing end of that battle too many times before.

  “There’s nothing wrong with ballet,” Posy said quietly. But she didn’t meet his gaze.

  There was plenty wrong with ballet. Was she really going to make him rehash everything, right here in front of his boss?

  No. He couldn’t go there. Something about it felt wrong. “Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but you’re on crutches. How are you going to teach dance?”

  If his words wounded her, she gave no indication. She smiled sweetly at Lou and ignored Liam altogether. “My foot won’t be a problem. The girls are beginners, right? Demonstrating the most basic steps won’t be a strain. Besides, I’ll be off the crutches and in a soft walking cast in no time.”

  Pastor McNeil—Lou—smiled, as if a dance teacher with a five-pound weight attached to her foot and a pair of wobbly crutches was the most ordinary thing in the world. Were they that desperate for help in the youth department?

  Yes. Yes, they were. The job posting had been circulating for months. Posy was the only remotely qualified applicant in all that time.

  “That sounds promising, Miss Sutton. Certainly promising enough to give it a try.” Lou aimed a pointed glance at Liam. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Liam didn’t agree. Not at all. But he was running out of objections he was willing to discuss. And Lou was already looking at him as if he were borderline nuts.

  “Liam, you’ll work with the boys. Miss Sutton will work with the girls. I fail to see how this is a problem. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”

  Now was the time to speak up. But what could he possibly say that wouldn’t make him sound like a lovesick teenager?

  I loved her. But she loved ballet more, even though it took everything from her.

  He glanced at Posy for the briefest of moments, and in her eyes he saw all the words he couldn’t bring himself to say. She’d walked away from him so easily back then that he’d sometimes wondered if she ever fully understood what had happened. Did she not see how badly she’d hurt herself, and in doing so, how badly she’d hurt him? He would have walked through fire for the girl she’d been. What they’d ended up walking through together had been far worse.

  Looking at her now, he could see those moments shining back at him in her eyes. She hadn’t forgotten after all.

  He aimed his gaze back at his boss. “No, not
hing.”

  “All right, then.” Pastor McNeil stood, a sure sign the discussion was over. “Tomorrow afternoon, the fellowship hall will become Miss Sutton’s ballet studio.”

  A ballet studio. Liam’s head was on the verge of exploding.

  What have I done?

  Chapter Three

  Whoever invented circular revolving doors had obviously never been on crutches.

  Posy felt like a newborn moose wobbling around on unfamiliar, gangly legs as she spun her way inside the Northern Lights Inn. Then, just as the instrument of torture spilled her out, the tip of her left crutch got stuck between one of the glass panels of the door and its frame. She jerked on the crutch as hard as she could, but it didn’t budge. The revolving door ceased revolving altogether, trapping two men wearing fur-trimmed parkas and unhappy scowls inside.

  Pilots, in all likelihood. The Northern Lights Inn overlooked a lake that remained frozen for at least nine months out of the year and served as the local municipal airport. Snow planes took off and landed on skis, making regular runs into Anchorage for supplies, or out into the Bush—the parts of Alaska inaccessible by roads, which was the overwhelming majority of the state. At all hours of the day and night, the hotel’s coffee bar was a gathering place for local charter pilots, along with the severely under-caffeinated looking for relief.

  Now that Posy got a better look at the two men she’d trapped in the revolving door, she suspected they fell into the latter category. They looked as though they could each use a cup of coffee. Or three.

  Sorry she mouthed at them from the other side of the glass, yanking again on the crutch. All at once it came dislodged, and Posy nearly fell on her backside for the second time in less than an hour. So much for balletic grace and poise.

  One of the two men helped her get resituated on her crutches before making a beeline for the coffee bar.

  Posy paused for a second before heading that direction herself. She hated this. Absolutely hated not having perfect control over her movements. Ballet was all about control. When she lifted her leg in an attitude position, her knee raised at the exact same angle every time. That was what all those hours of barre work and practice were for—making sure every pointed toe, every classically arched arm and every graceful step were absolutely perfect. She felt out of sorts, as if she were walking around in a strange body.

  She looked around the dark wood-paneled walls of the Northern Lights Inn and the sweeping views of the Chugach Mountain Range afforded by the coffee bar’s big picture window, expecting at least a tiny wave of nostalgia to wash over her. It didn’t. Being back in Alaska was even stranger than she’d expected. It no longer felt like home.

  Strange body. Strange town.

  Somewhere in her head she heard Liam’s voice again.

  You’ve been gone a long time.

  Her throat grew tight for some odd reason, and she suddenly felt like crying. Which was patently ridiculous. So she had a broken bone in her foot. It would heal. In a matter of six weeks it would heal, and she’d be back in San Francisco doing what she loved most: dancing. Her foot would repair itself, good as new. Just as it had before.

  It had to.

  Everything was going to be fine. She was rattled, that was all. It might be home, but Alaska was the polar opposite of San Francisco. A sea change. And she’d had her feet on the snowy ground for only two hours. Anyone would be disoriented. What she needed right now was coffee. And her girlfriends.

  “Posy! You’re really here. I can’t believe it.” Zoey Wynne, her oldest childhood friend, hopped off one of the bar stools at the coffee bar and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

  “I’m here, all right.” Posy kept a grip on her wayward crutches and let herself be hugged.

  The moment Zoey let her go, Posy found herself in the arms of Anya Parker, another close friend from the days of skating at the pond and trekking through the woods on snowshoes after school. It was nice being hugged. Dancers hugged one another all the time on performance nights—good-luck hugs in the dressing rooms, congratulatory hugs in the wings. But it had been a while since she’d been embraced like this.

  Like it mattered.

  Posy’s soul breathed a relieved sigh. For the first time since she’d been back, Aurora, Alaska, actually felt like home.

  “Come sit down.” Anya glanced briefly at the cast on Posy’s foot, but if she was shocked to see it, she didn’t let it show.

  News traveled fast. For once, Posy was grateful for small-town gossip. She’d spent enough time dwelling on her injury without having to explain it again and again.

  She slid onto one of the bar stools and ordered a cup of coffee. Black, with the smallest possible amount of sugar.

  “Gosh, this is good.” She closed her eyes, savoring the first sip. “I’d forgotten how great the coffee is here.”

  Anya snickered. “Don’t they have coffee in San Francisco?”

  “Theater coffee.” Posy shook her head, thinking about the food truck perpetually parked at the curb by the back door of the theater where her company rehearsed six days a week. She shuddered to think about how many to-go cups of coffee she’d consumed from that truck over the course of the past six years. “Not the same thing at all.”

  “It’s all part of our plan.” Zoey winked at Anya and then aimed her gaze back at Posy. “We’ve got you here, finally. Now we’re going to convince you to stay by pouring Alaska’s finest java down your throat.”

  Posy gave her an uneasy smile. She had no intention of staying once her foot was healed. What in the world would she do in Aurora? Work for Liam the rest of her life?

  Anya frowned. “What was that look for?”

  “What look?” Posy shrugged and drained the remainder of her coffee.

  “That look on your face just now. The one that indicated staying here would be a fate worse than death.” Zoey’s eyebrows lifted.

  Half a dozen years had passed, and her friends could still read her like a book. “It’s not like that. I’m happy to be back. If I can’t dance, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

  She wiggled her toes in her cast just the slightest bit. Pain shot from her foot all the way up her shin.

  Please, God. Please let me be able to dance again.

  “Then what’s wrong? Because you seem less than thrilled.” Anya covered Posy’s hand with her own. “Are you worried about your foot? It’s the same one, isn’t it?”

  Yes, it was the same one. And yes, she was worried. But Posy didn’t think that was what Anya really wanted to know. “I’m taking care of it. I promise.”

  “You’re not still dancing, are you?” Zoey asked.

  “No.” She laughed and motioned toward the cast. “It’s a little difficult with this ball and chain.”

  Unlike last time, there was no hiding the fact that she was injured. The cast guaranteed that much, as had her spectacular fall in the middle of Cinderella. She was walking around with her heart visible for the entire world to see.

  The other time had been different. The break hadn’t occurred with the drama of a sickening crack, but over time. A stress fracture. At first, Posy had thought she’d just been overdoing it. It was audition season. High school graduation was right around the corner. She’d been traveling on weekends, trying out for spots in various dance companies up and down the West Coast. Of course, her dream was to dance in Seattle or even Anchorage. Somewhere close to home. Close to Liam.

  She’d felt so torn between the two of them—Liam and ballet. She’d loved dance for as long as she could remember. Her parents told stories of how she’d bounced to the beat of push-button toys in the church nursery when she was only two years old.

  Somewhere deep down she possessed an unquenchable need to move in the presence of music. She didn’t just hear music. She felt it, down to her core. And her ability to
move to it, to dance, was God-given. She’d known that since before she could fully articulate it.

  Then Liam had come along. And for the first time, she’d felt the same way about a person that she’d felt about ballet. It was bewildering. It was exhilarating. It was love. But they were young. And why should she have to choose? Being a dancer didn’t mean she couldn’t be in love.

  After two weeks of icing her throbbing foot at night under the covers of her bed so her parents wouldn’t see, Posy had known something was seriously wrong. She couldn’t walk without limping. And when she danced, she had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from crying out in pain. She should have told someone then. She didn’t. She didn’t breathe a word about it to anyone, not even Liam.

  She should have said something. She should have gone straight to the doctor instead of doing her best to wish it away as she danced on, from one audition to the next, for fear of missing out on her big chance at becoming a professional ballerina.

  She should have done a lot of things differently.

  “I’m not taking any pills, if that’s what you’re wondering. Not even Advil,” Posy said.

  It was humiliating to have to give these kinds of assurances. Humiliating, but necessary. She might as well get used to it. Anya and Zoey had both been wondering. She could see it on their faces, just as she’d seen it in Liam’s eyes as they’d sat next to one another in the pastor’s office.

  “Good.” Anya gave her hand a squeeze before letting go.

  “Seriously. It’s not the foot that’s bothering me so much as something else.” Or someone else.

  Zoey frowned. “What’s wrong, then?”

  Posy looked up, and her gazed fixed on the stuffed grizzly bear that stood in the corner behind the coffee bar. Like she needed an enormous furry reminder of the stellar afternoon she’d had. “Liam Blake. That’s what’s wrong. Liam and his gigantic dog.”

  Anya’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve already seen Liam?”

  “Not only have I seen him, but I’m apparently working for him. He’s my boss.” Posy stared into her empty coffee cup, willing it to refill itself. She was going to need more caffeine to process the specifics of her new life, however temporary. Massive amounts of caffeine.