by Lisa Carter
Toward Canyon. Toward life. Toward love. Toward her future. A future she wanted more than anything else in the world.
With Canyon Collier, the Kiptohanock black sheep whose smile and laughter made her ache inside.
As if awaking from slumber, he took a disjointed step forward. Then another. His stride became longer and faster with each step. Crossing the distance between them, he swept her into his arms.
Laughing, crying, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you. I love you, Canyon Collier. I love you so much.”
He buried his face into her hair. “Kris. Oh, Kris.”
“Jade told me she felt that you were always meant to be her dad. And she your daughter. That it was only a matter of time before God brought you together and you found each other.”
Kristina drew her head back so she could look into his eyes. “There’s no one for me but you.” She held his face between her hands. “There’s only you from now on.” She bit her lip. “If you want me.”
“I want you.” His gaze locked on to hers. “I suspect I’ve loved you since the moment you nearly wrecked my plane.”
She trembled at his touch. “I think I was always meant to love you. It was only a matter of time before God brought us together and we found each other.”
His arms tightened around her. “I love you, Kris.” His voice went ragged. “So much. Forever.”
“I’m yours. Forever.” She traced his jawline with her finger. “Me. Gray. The house. Everything.”
When he looked at her, full of tenderness and passion, she beheld a future full of beginnings. Blue skies, bright with promise.
“You. Me. Jade and Gray.” His voice went husky, sending pleasurable swirls goose bumping along her arms. “Our house. Our airfield. Our florist shop.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You heard about me buying the shop?”
Canyon gave her that slow, lopsided smile. Her insides quivered. “Do you even know me, Kristina Montgomery?” His breath fanned her cheek. “I have teenage spies everywhere.”
Smiling, she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Kristina Collier, if you please.”
“As marriage proposals go—” his hand swept the runway “—this one is tops. And yes, I accept.”
She could feel the drumming of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. “God has been so good to me.” She gave him a shaky laugh. “Two great loves in one lifetime.”
His eyes went opaque. “You’ve made me the happiest man on earth.”
She luxuriated in the feel of his arms around her. “Not as happy as me.”
He leaned closer. “Where, dare I ask, are the children?”
She snuggled closer in his embrace. “At the house, waiting to celebrate our engagement. Their fingers are sore from tying all the ribbons.”
He cupped her cheek. “Sure of yourself, weren’t you?”
She brushed her mouth against his palm. “The only thing I’m sure of is I never want to spend another day without you.”
The look on his face almost broke her heart. As if he’d never believed she would love him. As if he’d believed no one would ever love him.
“You’d be okay spending your life waiting for another pilot to come home?”
“Canyon Collier, you are so worth waiting for. Besides, there are far worse things in life than always having to look up.”
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you, Kris.”
“Welcome home, my darling.” She pushed a strand of hair off his forehead. “Welcome home.”
* * * * *
If you loved this tale of sweet romance,
pick up these other stories
from author Lisa Carter
COAST GUARD COURTSHIP
COAST GUARD SWEETHEART
FALLING FOR THE SINGLE DAD
THE DEPUTY’S PERFECT MATCH
Available now from Love Inspired!
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Keep reading for an excerpt from HEALING HIS WIDOWED HEART by Annie Hemby.
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Dear Reader,
I don’t know about you, but I’ve always had a hard time letting go. Letting go of the past. Letting go of those I’ve loved. Letting go of dreams.
It’s not hard for me to let go of the bad. My challenge often comes in letting go of that which has been good, fruitful and purpose driven in my life. I tend to cling to the past good, unable and unwilling to move forward because of a fear that the new will not prove as wonderful and satisfying as the old.
This book was written during a season of change for me. A time of transition after the death of my father, for whom I’d spent the majority of the last two years caring. A season of approaching empty nest, with one child already in college and the youngest in her senior year of high school. A change in ministry focus. In other words, a lot of change in almost every aspect of my life.
I hate change. But as Kristina discovers, it is impossible to remain in the past. To refuse to move forward is to stagnate and die—mentally, spiritually and emotionally. When we refuse to fully cross over the threshold of God’s open door, we are in effect saying we don’t trust Him to have our best interests at heart. And what I’ve learned in this season of great change in my life is that God always keeps His children close to His heart.
I hope you have enjoyed taking this journey with me, Canyon and Kristina. I would love to hear from you. You may email me at [email protected] or visit www.lisacarterauthor.com.
Wishing you fair winds and following seas,
Lisa Carter
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Healing His Widowed Heart
by Annie Hemby
Chapter One
Smoke burned the back of Lexie Campbell’s throat as she took a breath and kept walking, staying clear of the officers guarding her evacuated neighborhood. She only needed to get inside her home for five minutes—just long enough to grab the dress.
Heart pounding, she edged along the woods behind a row of houses. From the news, she knew the wildfire was still a mile away. She’d be completely safe to go to the house she’d rented for the summer and retrieve the only thing of importance she’d brought with her. She’d always dreamed of wearing her grandmother’s dress on her wedding day—a day that was supposed to be two weeks from now.
Change in plans.
Tree limbs crunched loudly beneath her leather boots as she
broke into a run. Bringing the dress here had been foolish. She’d come to Carolina Shores, North Carolina to take her mind off her problems and focus on helping others. That was her grandmother’s remedy for a broken heart. Not the kind of medicine that Lexie practiced, but her grandma Jean had always known best. When Dr. Marcus had called to ask for help opening a free health care clinic here, Lexie had jumped at the chance. Looking at the black, smoke-filled sky now, she wondered if her decision had been rash. Unlike her ex-fiancé, though, she kept her commitments.
Seeing the house ahead, Lexie breathed a sigh of relief, which ended in a fit of coughing. She hurried toward the front porch and quickly unlocked the door. Inside, the air was stale, the smoke already seeping through the poorly insulated walls. She ran into the back bedroom and grabbed the dress from the closet. In the kitchen, she found a black garbage bag and stuffed the white-laced fabric inside. She wished she could throw herself in the bag right now. Surely no air was better than this.
Her head spun as she cinched the bag tightly.
Time to get out of here!
She hurried out the front door, making the mistake of sucking in another deep breath. Coughing again, she stumbled down the steps and started to cut across the lawn, heading in the direction of the neighborhood’s front entrance. No reason to sneak around now. She’d left her car parked along the roadside. If she could just make it back, then she’d be fine. After arriving and unloading her belongings here late last week, she’d gone away for the weekend to visit a friend, taking a few changes of clothes and her toiletries with her, which were still in her car—a blessing in disguise. Little had she known she’d be returning to a neighborhood evacuation.
Lexie didn’t bother glancing around to make sure she went unnoticed. No one was here. Everyone in Chesterfield Estates had evacuated. And with good reason, she thought now, feeling her world tilt and re-center like a ride at the amusement park.
A siren stopped her in her tracks. Looking up, Lexie saw a man with dark hair and a hard jawline leaning toward the passenger-side window of a white pickup truck. It was marked with the local fire department’s logo.
“What are you doing out here?” he called. “Don’t you know there’s a mandatory evacuation in this neighborhood?”
Lexie erupted into a fit of coughing as she tried to explain. She wasn’t a material girl, but the dress was sentimental to her. She couldn’t risk letting it burn up in the forest fire.
Stumbling toward him, Lexie doubled over as she coughed. “I...was just...”
Just about to fall over if I don’t get fresh air soon.
“Get in,” he ordered.
Lexie straightened, still wheezing. “Am I under arrest?” she asked through painful speech.
His brows lowered over disapproving blue eyes. “I’m not a cop. If I were, then absolutely. Being here right now is against the law.”
She approached his vehicle and pulled weakly on the door’s handle. She’d gladly accept a ride into fresh air. If not for him, she wasn’t sure she’d have made it out of the neighborhood and back to her car without collapsing. Clearly she’d misjudged the situation.
She tried to open the door, but her hands wouldn’t work.
“Ma’am?” she heard him say, although his voice was fading quickly. She thought she heard his truck door open, and then two hands turned her around and firmly grasped the front of her shoulders. “Ma’am? Are you okay?” He leveled his eyes with hers, forcing her to look at him.
Her knees went weak and not because of his rugged good looks, which didn’t go unnoticed even in her condition.
“Take a deep breath,” he told her, his voice calm and in control.
Her vision grew dim. She clutched the fabric of his shirt in her hand, holding on to him so that she didn’t fall. The garbage bag that she’d stuffed the dress into minutes earlier dropped to the ground below. “Don’t let me die,” she pleaded, feeling her legs buckle. Then she felt the weight of her body being swept up into the man’s arms. He opened the passenger door of his truck and laid her inside as she struggled to hold on to consciousness, watching the colors around her blur like the view inside a kaleidoscope.
“You still there?” he asked, flipping the sirens on as he took the driver’s seat.
The loud sound made her head throb. She tried to nod or say something intelligible. Instead her eyes closed, the world and the handsome stranger beside her fading away.
* * *
Mason Benfield had been hoping to find someone in the evacuated neighborhood, but it wasn’t the woman lying across his passenger seat right now. On a tip, he’d driven through the neighborhood, looking for a teenage girl and suspected runaway. If the runaway was here, he needed to find her before she got hurt like the woman beside him.
He glanced over. The woman appeared to be in her mid-to-late twenties. And either she couldn’t read, didn’t watch the local news, or had a death wish.
He dialed 911 as he sped toward the neighborhood’s front entrance a few blocks away. “I have an unconscious woman who suffered a possible asthma attack. We’re at the entrance of Chesterfield Estates,” he told the operator. He relayed a few more details, and then slowed the truck as he drove past the orange caution cones. He parked and got out, waving over one of the policemen enforcing the evacuation.
Mason wasn’t up for giving the guy a lecture about making sure no one got past. If anyone, the woman in his passenger seat was the one who needed a harsh speaking-to. What she’d done had been senseless. They’d evacuated the neighborhood because it was dangerously close to the forest fire. They were trying to control the blaze, but one change in the wind and the flames could rage in this direction. The fire could engulf miles in a matter of hours. Walking inside the neighborhood on foot was a foolish thing to do.
As he scooped her body into his arms, she stirred, drawing his eyes down to her oval face. He didn’t recognize her. Must be new to town, he thought, carrying her to a patch of grass near the road. He laid her gently on the ground, letting her legs drop first and then cradling her head until her soft auburn hair splayed out around her. He slid his fingers to the side of her neck and checked her vitals—good. Her complexion was rosy—and beautiful.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
“She okay?” the officer asked, walking up beside him.
Mason’s jaw tightened. “Talk to your guys and make sure this doesn’t happen again,” he said, straining to hear any sign of help coming their way. “And keep a lookout for a teenage girl in this area. There’s a suspected runaway that’s been spotted around here.”
The officer nodded. “Will do.”
Mason couldn’t stand the thought of a child finding themselves helpless in the dense smoke. Hopefully the girl had relocated. Hopefully, he thought, she’d gone home where she belonged. His late wife crossed his memory. Once a runaway, too, someone had helped her find her way. Because of that she’d founded the Teen Center, a cause close to her heart, and had helped a few dozen teens when she was alive.
Mason angled his head, listening as the sound of sirens grew in the distance. The woman on the ground stirred. Her eyelids flickered and then she reached for his hand. The feel of her skin on his was like silk. Reflexively, his fingers tightened around hers. He stared down at their interlocked fingers for a long moment, unable to break away. She was scared, that’s all it was, which intensified his desire to keep her safe.
Don’t let me die.
Her words back on the street had been too close for comfort. Pressing down the memories of his late wife, he nodded at the paramedics as they arrived.
“She breathed in a little too much smoke. Maybe an asthma attack,” he said, as they carefully picked the woman up and laid her on a stretcher. His hand broke free from hers. Mason had the sudden urge to follow her inside the ambulance and ride along just to make sure she got ther
e okay, to relieve her fears and tell her everything was going to be all right. He knew from experience, though, that sometimes things didn’t turn out all right.
“My bag,” she said in a barely audible voice.
Mason stepped closer as she was carried away on the stretcher. “What did you say?” he asked.
Her eyes opened just slightly. “My bag. I need that bag,” she said, her eyes widening. Then she was lifted inside the small confines of the ambulance and the doors shut behind her.
What could possibly be so important that she would put it in a black garbage bag and risk her life to save it? Watching the ambulance scream into the distance, he climbed back into his truck to go find out. As he drove, he pushed back those haunting memories of the day his wife had died. His chest throbbed with the deep wound that the memory always reopened.
Everything is going to be okay, he’d told her. The doctors will fix you right up.
At the time he’d truly believed in what he was saying. He’d put his faith in the young doctors at Carolina Memorial, and his late wife had put her faith in his words.
Mason parked on the cul-de-sac and slipped on a mask this time because the air was thick. Just because he was a firefighter didn’t mean he could gulp in smoke and not be affected. Somehow the woman had thought herself invincible. He grabbed the bag and carried it back to the truck. Inside, he ripped open the knot cinching the plastic, surprised when white lace fabric peeked through.
A wedding dress.
Which meant the woman on her way to the hospital was spoken for. Taken. Off the market. That knowledge stung a little, leaving him with something akin to disappointment, which didn’t make sense. She was a stranger and he had no interest in dating or relationships, or ever getting married again. Shifting his truck back into gear, he headed out of the neighborhood with the bagged dress beside him. The smell of smoke was hard to kick. Foolish or not, he didn’t want the bride-to-be to smell like a forest fire on her special day.
A short drive later, he pulled into a gravel driveway and parked.