The truck had exploded before his eyes. He’d run in and dragged his buddy out, but the man’s injuries were too severe. He’d died the next day. On Christmas. “Yeah,” he said through a throat suddenly gone tight. “It’s not much fun.”
“But the soldiers will be happy when they get our letters, won’t they?” Logan asked, looking worried.
Flint squatted down, put an arm around Logan, and looked at the notes spread out on the table before him. “To a hero” and “thank you” and “Jesus loves you,” all copied out with various degrees of accuracy, all accompanied by pictures of Christmas trees and presents and Jesus in the manger.
He swallowed hard and pulled Logan a little closer. “Yeah. They’ll be real happy.”
Lana must have sensed his emotion, because she didn’t ask any more questions. “Children,” she said, “let’s pray over the cards.”
All the children obediently bowed their heads, and Lana led them in a short prayer asking for the soldiers to stay safe and to know they were loved, both by their countrymen and by Jesus.
Flint blew out a breath. He wasn’t always good at teaching Logan values, he knew. He did his best, but one frazzled father couldn’t do it alone. He was grateful for the church, and specifically for Lana’s teaching.
At the same time, his feelings about the whole thing were mixed. Because how much of an influence did he want the tall brunette to have on his son? If she was Logan’s teacher and his Sunday school teacher and his nanny, wasn’t she getting to be way too important a part of Logan’s life?
Especially since she seemed to have a thing for the pastor? The young pastor who might leave the region anytime, possibly taking Lana with him?
“Parents, you can come in and take a look and get your kids,” Lana called to the group still by the curtain. “I’m sorry we went overtime.”
The parents surged over, helping with jackets and admiring the kids’ work.
Too surrounded to escape, Flint heard about how the class was focusing on the bigger meaning of Christmas, not just getting presents, but giving and sharing the love Jesus had brought into the world with his birth. Last week, they’d made ornaments for nursing home residents. Lana passed around photos that showed the elderly residents holding the ornaments and smiling. “Remember,” she called after a couple of parents who were leaving, “canned goods next week.”
The other veteran glanced over at him and offered a hand. “Della Pfeifer. Fourth Infantry Division out of Fort Hood. Lana and Allie and I are going out to brunch at Lila’s Café,” she added. “Would you and Logan like to come?”
“Can we, Dad?”
Flint tried to think of an excuse, but nothing came to mind. Besides, going out would mean he didn’t have to cook.
And the fact that spending time with Lana made his heart beat a little faster would just have to get suppressed. He’d toughen up soon, get to where she meant nothing to him. Maybe it would help if they saw each other on bland social occasions like lunch with other church people.
“Sure,” he said. “We can go.”
Allie and her mom wanted to walk from the church to the restaurant, and Logan begged to walk with them. Lana joined, too, leaving Flint to drive over. He wanted a quick escape route, and he truly did need to get back to the ranch right after brunch.
When he arrived, though, Lana and Logan walked up alone.
“Allie threw up!” Logan yelled, running toward Flint.
Lana followed more slowly. “She must have eaten too many gingerbread cookies. She and her mom turned back. They’re going home.”
“She’s okay? Do they need anything?”
“She says not. Apparently, Allie has a weak stomach.”
“Oh.” Flint rubbed the back of his neck. The last thing he and Logan needed was to have lunch in a cozy threesome with gorgeous Lana Alvarez.
They stood in front of the café, which was starting to bustle with the after-church crowd.
Okay, how do you get out of this without being a jerk?
Marnie Binder leaned out the door. “Quick, get in here! I saved you a table!”
Lana headed inside, and Logan followed her. After a second’s hesitation, Flint did, too. If they were going to sit with Marnie, that was all right.
Except, when they got inside, Flint realized that she’d saved them a tiny table—a little space right by the window, with barely room for three chairs around it.
“I’ll let you guys stay, since there’s only room for three,” Lana said quickly. She sounded almost as eager to get out of this awkward situation as Flint was, which irritated him for some reason.
“Oh, no, I’m going to sit over there with my sister and brother-in-law and the kids,” Marnie said, pointing at the table in the center of the café. “I just figured I’d grab this table for the next friends who came in. Which is you!” She beamed at the three of them.
Logan pulled out the chair facing the street and sat down. “You sit here,” he said to Lana, “and Dad, you sit here.” He pushed them toward the chairs on either side of his.
At least they weren’t next to each other. But the table was so small that they were practically knee to knee. Every time he moved, his legs brushed against Lana’s.
Up close like this, in the morning light, he couldn’t help but notice her smooth, tanned skin, bright eyes and long, dark hair that reached the middle of her back.
How had this happened? Flint had a definite feeling of being railroaded into this brunch. And Lana looked every bit as uncomfortable as he was.
When he glanced around the diner, he saw Marnie whispering to the woman next to her and nodding in their direction, a smile on her broad face.
So that explained it, or part of it at least. Marnie was still matchmaking, or trying to.
Too bad she hadn’t matched Lana up with the preacher, like Lana preferred.
Despite the busy sidewalk in front of them and Logan’s chatter, Flint and Lana’s silence felt awkward. They had a long wait for a server, who was clearly struggling with the crowd. They’d just ordered coffee for the adults and chocolate milk for Logan when the pastor came in.
An idea formed in Flint’s mind, and before he could think, he acted on it. “Pastor Andrew,” he called, gesturing the man over as he stood. “Come, sit here.”
The young pastor approached their table readily enough. “Doesn’t look like there’s room—”
“It’s all right. I have a lot to deal with at the ranch. Logan and I need to leave.”
“Dad!” Logan’s face screwed up. “I want to eat pancakes.”
“I can bring him home,” Lana said faintly. There was something in her voice, but Flint couldn’t pause to analyze what. He was on a quest. A quest to turn tail and run away just as fast as he could run.
“That would be great,” he said. He stopped at the counter, left way too much money to pay for the small group’s breakfast, and hurried out the door.
Chapter Seven
That night, Flint helped Logan pile his sleeping bag, backpack and duffel into the Delgados’ SUV and made sure Logan was happily chattering with his friend Martin in the backseat. “Thanks for inviting him,” he said to the doctor’s wife.
“We’re glad Logan and Martin are becoming friends,” she said. “We’ll make sure he gets on the school bus in the morning.”
“Thanks.” Flint watched them drive away. Logan had begged for this sleepover, and Flint was glad to encourage the friendship. But he didn’t relish spending the evening alone. Alone, with his own guilt.
As he’d left Lila’s Café after church, he’d glanced in the window and seen Lana’s stricken face. Sure, Flint had ultimately done her a favor by giving her time with the young pastor, but he’d done it in a rude way.
Cowboy nudged at his hand, and Flint looked down d
istractedly at the dog. “What kind of idiot am I, anyway?”
Cowboy cocked his head and let out a quiet bark, for all the world as if he were listening.
Not only had Flint been rude, but he’d given his rival a golden opportunity to hang out with Lana. Of course, the pastor wasn’t his rival, because Flint wasn’t in the running for a relationship. Especially a relationship with a beautiful young woman who, like his ex-wife, was likely to get tired of Haven and leave any day now. Well, any month. He’d recognized enough character in Lana Alvarez that he didn’t think she’d leave her students in the lurch the way Stacie had left Logan.
But the principle was the same. She was too young and pretty to be stranded in a small town for any length of time. He needed to protect himself and Logan from the over-involvement that was starting to happen.
Funny thing, though. His actions this morning had felt less like protection and more like cowardice. And that didn’t sit right with him.
“Come on, let’s walk,” he said to the dog, and they headed down the dirt road that led toward the main ranch buildings and the barn. You couldn’t help admiring that sky, lingering blue in the background, clouds of pink or dark gray, depending on where the setting sun hit them, an orange glow on the horizon. It was enough to make a cowboy go poetic.
Maybe even enough to make him give a nod to the Creator.
Looking at beauty like this, a guy had to believe in an all-powerful God. Had to think, maybe, that God had a plan.
Maybe Stacie wouldn’t have done a good job with Logan. Maybe she’d have hurt him more than she would’ve helped him.
Flint was sure enough happier without her, and that thought surprised him.
But he was happier now, he realized. He was getting a little perspective, realizing that life went on, even after a heavy blow. Even with his problems, he was much more fortunate than some of the guys he’d served with, for example. He’d escaped the war without physical injury or emotional damage. And where was the justice in that? He’d been young and single, while some of his buddies who’d lost their lives had been married with young kids.
Cowboy spotted some little critter and raced off after it, yipping joyously.
Maybe Flint had been saved for a purpose. If so, most probably, that purpose was Logan. None of it made much sense, but as he watched the sky darken to violet, he figured that maybe, just maybe, God was the one who should figure it all out.
He kicked at a stone, watched it disappear into the gathering dusk. Thinking spiritual thoughts didn’t change how he’d approach life. He still wouldn’t have a relationship, wouldn’t risk Logan’s heart.
And who was he kidding? He had to admit that his own heart was softening a little, and softening in a particular direction it shouldn’t, and he needed to protect that, as well. Couldn’t let himself head toward love, because that was a trip to the dark place he’d been after his wife had left him alone with a newborn baby. Now, Logan was old enough to notice. And Flint had to take some care.
He looked up and saw the barn to his left, but his boots kept walking toward the main ranch house.
He’d been a jerk, and he needed to apologize.
Just as he was turning toward the main house’s front porch, he noticed a light on in the storage barn. He’d better check, see what was going on. They hadn’t had any instances of sabotage since the missing child saddles, but you couldn’t be too careful.
Funny how he’d rather confront a thief than a certain tall, slender female.
But God had the last laugh. Because when he got to the barn and looked through the open door, there was Lana.
She was hauling a hay bale from one side of the makeshift stage to the other, or trying to, leaning her whole weight against it, then stopping to rest, looking frustrated. He walked inside. “That’s way too big for one person to handle alone,” he said, approached her and bent to nudge at the bale. “Where do you want it?”
“That wall.” They pushed more until the bale was secure against the painted manger scene. Lana straightened, brushed back her hair...and turned away without thanking him.
That wasn’t like her. “Hey, listen,” he said, “I wanted to talk about this morning.”
She walked away. “I don’t,” she threw back over her shoulder. She went and knelt by a container of foam shapes that were to be made into the Wise Men’s gifts. She started pulling them out of the crate, not looking at him.
“Look, that was rude of me to leave,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, it was!” she burst out, looking up at him with eyes that sent out dark fire. “Why did you do that, Flint?”
He hadn’t gotten so far in his mind as thinking of how to explain. “I, um, had a lot to do back here. But I shouldn’t have—”
“You think I didn’t have a lot to do?” She gestured around the barn. “You think I wanted to spend two hours having brunch, so that I’d have to stay up late to get my work done here?”
“But you’d been planning to go,” he said, trying to get the discussion on to reasonable ground and away from the dangerous area of why he really had wanted to leave. “Whereas I got sucked in at the last minute.”
“I would’ve left if I’d known you didn’t want to be there. I would’ve left when Allie got sick. But I couldn’t go, could I, because you’d dumped me. And dumped Logan on me. And dumped both of us on Pastor Andrew.”
“I didn’t mean to dump you,” he floundered. “Lana, any man would love to have a meal with you.”
“Anyone except you,” she fumed. “And just because you paid for it doesn’t mean I’m not mad.”
Flint tried not to get distracted by how pretty she looked, her cheeks pink, her eyes dark. Even wearing a Christian rock band T-shirt and ragged denim shorts, she was stunning.
He was bungling this apology and making her madder. “I just meant to—”
“Just because people like Marnie Binder are pushing us together,” she interrupted, “that doesn’t mean I’m on that train, Flint! You embarrassed me in front of a whole restaurant full of people. Left me and Pastor Andrew to try to explain where you went when we really had no idea. And to do it without upsetting Logan.”
“I’m sorry.” His hand wanted to touch her, but she’d probably slap him if he did. “Lana, I’m really sorry I did that. It won’t happen again.”
He forced himself to turn around and walk out of the storage barn.
* * *
Fuming, Lana watched Flint walk out into the almost-dark evening. How dare he come in here and think he could set everything right by moving a hay bale? Why, he’d dumped her in front of a roomful of...
Suddenly she stopped, drew in a breath.
Oh.
So that was why she’d gotten so upset she’d had a hard time not crying.
This wasn’t the first time she’d been dumped in front of a room full of people.
But of course, when she looked at it logically, the situation at brunch was totally different than her wedding disaster. Flint hadn’t made any promise to be with her. He’d been pushed into it, as he said, not by her but by Allie’s mom and Logan and Marnie Binder.
And hadn’t she learned anything from her prayer time today? She wasn’t called to judge; she was called to forgive.
She hurried to the barn door. “Hey, Flint!”
He stopped. Turned slowly.
Silhouetted against the dark gray sky, he looked like the hero of a thousand cowboy movies she’d watched with her family as a kid.
“Can you come back here a minute?” And then she realized that was too commanding, and she walked out to meet him, standing outside the barn.
“Listen, I’m sorry I got mad,” she said quickly, not wanting to lose her resolve. “I tend to have a temper. I appreciate your apology, and of course, I forgive you.” There.
Her heart was already lighter, and when she saw Flint’s slow smile, it got lighter still.
There was a rustling sound in the bushes over by the fence, and then something flew toward them, some kind of missile. Flint shoved her behind him and caught it midair.
He looked at it as Lana’s heart pounded...partly from the scare, and partly from Flint’s protectiveness and the feel of his hands on her arm. “What is it?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. Looks like something you’d shoot from a toy gun. Couldn’t hurt you bad, but...here.” He handed it to her. “I’m going to see if I can find the kid who shot it. They shouldn’t be aiming at people.”
Lana took the projectile and noticed something rubber banded around it. A note? She slid the rubber band off and unfolded the note, backing into the barn and flipping on a light to read it:
“Stay away from Flint Raling. He is not a god boyfriend. Please marry me. Love, Pastor Andrew.”
The note was typed, but the two misspellings suggested to her that the true author wasn’t a grown man who’d completed college and seminary. More like a second-or third-grader. What in the world?
“What is it?” Flint asked, coming back.
For some reason, she felt self-conscious as she showed him the note. It actually had the opposite effect from the sender’s intention, in that it was actually making her think about Flint Rawlings as a boyfriend.
What would it be like to be the handsome cowboy’s girlfriend? Feeling easy with him, getting together to talk of an evening, sliding an arm around that narrow waist?
The direction of her thoughts annoyed her. She was not going to think of Flint that way. He had too many issues, and so did she. “Just another silly note, like with the cross necklace last week. Somebody seems to be bent on matchmaking.”
An expression of surprise crossed his face, so fleeting that she wasn’t sure she’d seen it. “That little present wasn’t from the pastor?”
She shook her head. “The note was full of misspellings, just like this one. It’s kids. But what I don’t understand is why.”
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