by Marta Perry
“That’s not how they saw it.” Her throat worked with the effort to swallow. “He said it was my fault. Said my hair was an invitation to vanity and a trap for men.” Her fingers seemed to have tangled in the lock of hair. “So they chopped it off in a crewcut, like a boy’s.”
His fury at them was like a backdraft, sending a wall of flame soaring, destroying everything in its path. It was probably good they were both dead, or he’d have wanted to track them down and punish them himself.
Somehow he choked the anger down. He clasped her fingers, drawing them gently free of her hair and then stroking the lock of hair smooth again.
“They were wrong,” he said when he could trust himself to speak. “Criminally wrong. Evil. You do know that, don’t you?”
She nodded. “I know that intellectually. Sometimes my emotions are a different story, though. I hear their voices when I least expect it.”
He touched her cheek gently, turning her face toward him. “That’s letting them win. You can’t let them win.”
“I try. Believe me, I try.” She looked up at him then, her eyes huge and lost.
He was lost, too. He couldn’t stop caring for her, no matter how impossible it was.
And he couldn’t stop the urge to kiss her. It wasn’t the wise thing to do, but he couldn’t help himself.
His palm cradled her cheek, and her skin was silk against his. “Nolie.” He said her name softly, watching her eyes darken as she realized he was going to kiss her.
Her lips parted, and the pulse in her neck hammered against his hand. Neither of them could stop this. It was inevitable.
His lips found hers, and she moved into his arms with a tiny sigh. His hands moved on the silky stuff of her dress, then on the warm, smooth skin of her shoulders. He drew her even closer, shaken by the storm of emotions that demanded he hold her, protect her, keep her close by his side forever.
Forever. The word was like a spray of cold water. Nolie, sweet, vulnerable Nolie, would expect forever. He couldn’t hurt her.
He touched her face again, drawing back a fraction of an inch, and pressed a line of kisses across her cheek. His brain and his body didn’t seem able to work together. He had to stop. But maybe he’d at least managed to wipe out that ugly memory and replace it with a better one.
“Nolie.” He said her name more firmly as he forced his lips away from her skin. “You are a beautiful, desirable woman. They don’t have power over you anymore.” He stroked her hair. “They’re gone, and you’re here. You’re a success. You won.”
Her eyes were huge and more than a little dazed. She drew back slightly, still in the circle of his arms. He saw reason replace the dazed look, and he knew it was time to move onto firmer ground.
He had to. But it was tempting, so tempting, to stay right here in the clouds with Nolie in his arms.
She couldn’t let Gabe know how much his kisses had affected her. Nolie took a careful step backward, cold suddenly at the distance between them.
She didn’t want the moment to end, but it had to. She could see that in Gabe’s eyes. He was already wondering why he’d kissed her, probably reminding himself of the distance between them and the disagreement that seemed so irrevocable.
Even if things could work out between them, now wasn’t the time. Maybe, after Gabe’s training was finished, but not now. And probably once he was free of the training program, he wouldn’t want her in his life as a constant reminder of this difficult time.
“Maybe we ought to go back inside.” She managed to keep her voice as calm as if she hadn’t just been rocked to her very soul by his kisses. “We are working tonight, after all.”
“Right.” Gabe moved away a step, as careful as she had been. “Max is probably wondering where we are.”
That’s right. Take this lightly. Pretend you haven’t just been kissing the man you can’t help loving.
She turned and let him pilot her back into the room. The dancers still circled, the lights still shone. They might never have been gone.
But they had. And she, at least, had been changed by what had happened between them. She could only hope she didn’t wear a starry-eyed look that would alert everyone in the room to what they’d been doing.
Max, ears pricked forward, watched them as they approached. His velvet eyes seemed to look at them knowingly.
Well, even if Max knew, he couldn’t tell anyone.
Besides, there was nothing wrong with kissing Gabe. Even if nothing ever came of it, it wasn’t wrong to kiss him.
As Claire had said, they wouldn’t be working together forever. Then—well, then she’d see. If Gabe wanted to continue seeing her, he knew where she was.
“Good boy, Maxie.” She patted her knee, letting the dog know it was okay to get up.
He stood, stretching elaborately, then walked over to Gabe and sat down at his side, waiting for Gabe’s praise. Gabe ruffled his ears.
“Good boy.”
She tried to ignore the slight pang in her heart. Max was transferring his allegiance to Gabe. That was the way it should be. Now, if she could just make Gabe see that the dog should continue to be a part of his life, she probably shouldn’t ask for more.
Gabe lifted an eyebrow as he looked toward her, his hand on Max’s head. “What do you think? Can we blow this joint yet?”
People were starting to filter out the doors. “I guess so. As far as I know, my duties ended with being introduced. Everything else was icing.”
The meal, the dancing, that was what she meant. She certainly didn’t mean being kissed senseless on the veranda, did she?
Gabe handed her the small black evening bag Claire had provided with the dress. “I guess we’re ready, then.”
They’d reached the hallway when Nolie saw a rotund figure in a black tuxedo hurrying toward them.
“Ms. Lang. Mr. Flanagan.” Mr. Henley extended a hand to each of them. “I’m glad you were able to make it tonight.” He was as gracious as if this hadn’t been a command performance. “I hope you enjoyed yourselves.”
“It was a lovely event.” She could only hope her heightened color didn’t give away which part of the evening she’d found most lovely. “Thank you for inviting us.”
“A pleasure.” His attention had shifted to Max. “And this is one of your talented animals.”
“This is Max, the dog who has been training with Mr. Flanagan.”
He held out his hand to Max, who sniffed politely and then let himself be patted. “He’s quite the gentleman, isn’t he?” He glanced at Gabe, making it clear that he expected a response from him. “Or shouldn’t I be patting him when he’s on duty?”
“It’s all right.”
Gabe’s answer wasn’t exactly forthcoming, but at least he’d said something.
“We don’t encourage people to play with a seizure-alert dog when he’s on duty, but it won’t distract him to be introduced.” She hoped her explanation masked Gabe’s shortness.
Mr. Henley nodded gravely. “I see.” Again he looked at Gabe. “And how is the training working out?”
Please. She found herself pleading silently with Gabe. Say something positive. Please.
“It’s going very well.” Gabe seemed to respond to her thoughts. “Max is a well-trained animal, and the work Nolie does with her clients and the animals is really amazing.” He patted Max. “I hope you’re going to look favorably on her grant request. Having seen her work in action, I can only say she deserves it.”
She’d be more gratified by his words if he weren’t putting himself so carefully out of the picture. Still, she should be happy he was willing to say that much.
“We’re looking forward to seeing that in person.” Henley smiled, carefully evasive.
“Seeing it in person?” she echoed. What was he talking about?
“Well, naturally the board won’t be willing to give so substantial a grant without a demonstration of your program in action,” Henley said.
Naturally.
Sh
e swallowed. “I thought you were just expecting a report on Mr. Flanagan’s experience with the program.”
He swept that aside with an expansive gesture. “Reports are all very well, but nothing substitutes for seeing the program ourselves. I’ll have my secretary call you to set up a time for the board to visit.”
“Of course. Anytime.” What else could she say? She didn’t have to look at Gabe to guess his response to the idea.
“We’ll have a look around your facility, and you can show us exactly what you do. Of course, seeing Mr. Flanagan work with the dog and hearing his testimony will be the highlight of the visit.”
“I’m not sure—”
He clapped Gabe on the shoulder, seeming not to notice how stiff he was. “There’s nothing like hearing from a disabled hero to sway public opinion, as I’m sure you realize.”
Luckily Gabe didn’t say anything, since whatever he might say to the idea was probably unprintable.
“Thank you. I’ll look forward to seeing you, then.”
She edged past the man, grateful when his attention seemed to be caught by someone behind them. Gabe was already halfway out the door, and she scurried after him.
She didn’t catch up with him until she reached the bottom of the steps, where he was handing the ticket to the parking attendant. The man trotted off, leaving them momentarily alone in the dim light.
Still, it didn’t take too much light to decipher the expression on Gabe’s face. He was furious.
“I didn’t know that was what the foundation board had in mind.” She hurried to get the words out first. “No one ever said they expected a demonstration.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He clipped the words off.
She could only stare at him. “It doesn’t?”
“It doesn’t matter whether you expected it or not. I won’t do it.”
Her heart sank. She’d known that would be his reaction, but—
“Gabe, you heard him. He’s looking forward to seeing you work with Max. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
He looked at her as if she’d suggested he leap off the barn roof. “He doesn’t want a simple display of what the dog can do. If he did, you could give a better demonstration with Danny and Lady, you know that.”
“But—”
“He wants testimony. You heard him. He wants testimony from the disabled hero.” He spat the words out. “He wants me to get up there and talk about how I have to depend on the dog to get me through the day.”
You do, Gabe. Why won’t you realize that?
“I won’t do it. If I stood up in public and said that, it would mean an end to my career. I can’t. And I won’t.”
His voice was flat. Final.
Chapter Twelve
Her Cinderella moment was over. Nolie drove down the narrow blacktop leading to the farm, trying her best to hold her pain at bay. She would not let herself dwell on the contrast between how she’d felt leaving for the foundation affair and how she felt now. Her joy in the pretty dress had vanished as thoroughly as the admiration in Gabe’s eyes.
She could do nothing about that. Perhaps she could still do something about Gabe’s attitude.
The stark reality was that if he backed out of the program now, she could lose the grant. But if he did what Henley asked, he felt he’d lose his future. They couldn’t both get what they wanted.
The difference between them lay in Gabe’s inability to admit the truth about his situation. Probably she couldn’t change that, but she had to try one last time.
She drew up by the house and glanced at Gabe as she turned off the ignition. His face was brooding and withdrawn.
“Can we talk for a few minutes before you go to the cottage?”
He reached for the door handle. “It won’t do any good.”
He was closed to her, perhaps completely, perhaps forever. But she couldn’t give up.
“Please.” She put her hand on his arm. “Just for a few minutes.”
Max whined softly, either because he didn’t understand why they hadn’t gotten out of the car or because he sensed the tension between them.
Gabe jerked a short nod, then got out quickly, letting the dog out.
She came around the car slowly, trying to arrange her thoughts in some coherent manner. The night air was cool on her arms. She nodded toward the porch swing, sheltered from the breeze.
“Let’s sit down.”
Max, released from confinement in the car, began to nose around the bushes. Gabe looked as if he longed for similar release, but he followed her to the porch. She sat on the cushioned swing, feeling it rock as Gabe took his place next to her.
The cool air brought the faint scent of roses to her. Sitting here with Gabe could have been a lovely, romantic moment. It was anything but that.
“I know what you’re going to say, Nolie. I want you to get the grant. But I can’t do what Henley wants.”
She tried to think what arguments might persuade him, but her mind seemed blank. “Maybe the results wouldn’t be as bad as you think. Surely the chief understands the position he’s put you in.”
Gabe put his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands. In the dim light he was a solid, dark bulk, immovable as a rock.
“They’re talking about publicity, you must know that. Publicity for the foundation.”
“They survive on contributions. Publicity brings in the money that keeps good programs afloat.”
His face turned toward hers. “They do good work. They deserve good press. But not at the cost of my life.”
“It wouldn’t necessarily—”
“If I let them use me as some kind of poster boy, I’ll never get back on active duty.” His voice was heavy. Final.
She had to say the truth, even though she knew it would hurt him. “You may not have a choice. You can’t be a firefighter if you’re suffering from seizures.”
He jerked as if she’d shot him. “I won’t. I’ll take the medicine if I have to, but I’m going back on the job. It’s my life.”
He really believed that. She thought she understood why, but—
“I understand the chief is willing to give you a desk job in the department.”
“No.” His anger came toward her in a black wave. “I’m a firefighter, not a desk jockey.”
Her throat ached with the need to reach him. “I know helping people is your life. Maybe God has a way for you to do that that you haven’t considered.”
“You sound like Brendan. I should listen to what God wants for me. But you know what? Ever since the accident, I’ve been trying to reach Him. And He’s been silent.”
She heard the pain that threaded his voice—heard it and didn’t know how to respond. She had to force herself to reach back, far back into the painful past she didn’t want to remember.
She took a breath, steadied herself. She’d told Gabe so much. She could tell him this much more.
“I felt that way once—that God had abandoned me. That He didn’t hear my pain.” She had to force the words out one at a time, they hurt so much. “It wasn’t until I was desperate enough to express my anger at God that I found I’d taken that first step toward healing. God was big enough to take my anger and love me anyway.”
His head came up in a swift, instinctive response. “Don’t tell me what to do, Nolie. You’re not all that healed when you can’t even get rid of your aunt’s belongings.”
His words hit her like a blow. He knew. Gabe knew about the contents of the shed. Knew, and thought her a coward or a weakling for not doing something about it.
She was still grappling with the pain when he surged off the swing, setting it rocking violently. He stood in front of her, hands shoved into his pockets, head lowered.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She dismissed the apology with a flicker of her fingers. “It doesn’t matter.” She took a breath, trying to get a handle on her pain. “What matters is the work. That’s all that matters.”
No, that wasn’t all that mattered. It also mattered that she loved him. But loving him wasn’t going to change anything between them.
“You’re doing good work. I know that. But I won’t sacrifice my future for it. I can’t.”
He turned. Stepped off the porch. He was going, and she couldn’t stop him.
She took a breath, pushed herself upright. Max, with a last look at her, trotted after Gabe.
She could call the dog back, but she wouldn’t. He was the one frail thread that still connected Gabe to her work.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t make herself believe that was going to make a difference. There was nothing left for her and Gabe.
Gabe stood at the cottage window Monday morning, looking out at the farm. A last look? He’d thought that yesterday. After church with the family he’d seriously considered packing his things and moving back home.
But he’d committed himself to sticking with the program for another week. If he dropped out before then the chief would be furious. Any chance that he’d look favorably on Gabe’s return to active duty would disappear.
He rubbed the back of his neck, where tension had taken up permanent residence since he’d learned what the foundation expected of him. There had to be a solution that would let him and Nolie get what they wanted.
The only possibility he saw was a slim one. He could finish the training, then appear at the little dog-and-pony show for the foundation and tell them that while he was well now and didn’t need a service dog, he had nothing but praise for Nolie’s program.
Unfortunately Nolie could blow that out of the water by telling them about his last seizure. Would she?
Analyzing Nolie’s reactions was a risky thing. If she agreed to cooperate with him—well, at least then she’d stand a chance of getting her funding. Otherwise—
He found he didn’t want to think of that. They’d both been put in an unfair position. He didn’t want to be the one to blow her chances at the grant. She did good work.
He put his hand against the glass, frowning. He’d seen Nolie and Danny go into the barn a few minutes ago. The kid was crazy about the animals, and that was often his reward for a good session.