The Sweetest Gift (The McKaslin Clan: Series 1 Book 2)

by Jillian Hart

  “You’re not answering my question.”

  “I’m too worked up about my new job, maybe. And feeling alone.” Because it was too honest, she grabbed the ice cream bowls and took off so she could pretend she hadn’t been. She was grateful for the dim light from the television so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye.

  She set the bowls of ice cream on the coffee table. She’d forgotten the spoons.

  He set the steaming mugs on the table next to the ice cream. The rich scent of chocolate rose on the air as Kirby spun on her heels and headed back to the kitchen.

  She was letting herself be too affected. He’d come as a neighbor, as a friend. She rescued the popcorn from the microwave and filled her favorite bowl with the fluffy kernels.

  He wasn’t holding on to a secret affection for her. She needed to remember to take his friendship at face value.

  “What’s taking so long in there? Did you stop for a quick game of Monopoly?”

  “What did you say?” She grabbed the spoons from the counter. “Were you spying on me?”

  “In some circles it’s called reconnaissance, and that’s not a bad thing.”

  “You were spying on me. Shame on you.”

  “Hey, you were the one who left your blinds up after dark. How is it my fault that when I went outside to lock up, the light from your kitchen window glowed like a beacon in the dark and made me look?”

  “Made you look? You were helpless to look away, huh?”

  “Sure was. I can’t remember the last time I saw so many pretty women playing a board game.”

  “You think I’m boring.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I just couldn’t believe my eyes.”

  He was laughing at her! She marched around the corner of the couch, set the spoons on the table in front of them and refused to look at him. “It’s not funny. People play board games all the time.”

  “I know.”

  “My sisters and I like to play. We always have.”

  “Yes, and eat ice cream sundaes while you do.”

  “That was dessert.”

  “Hey, I believe you.” Sam helped himself to her remote and turned up the volume.

  Kirby’s dog padded in, eyes droopy with sleep, and circled three times at the foot of the couch.

  Maybe it was her turn to interrogate him. “You never answered me. Why can’t you sleep?”

  “Oh, I tried, but the trouble with sleeping is the dreaming.” He dug his spoon into the melty ice cream. “It’s called post-traumatic stress. It’s pretty common for the soldiers who’ve seen combat. Sometimes it’s worse than others.”

  “And tonight?”

  “I dreamed about when I was captured behind enemy lines.” He set the spoon down with a rattle against the bowl.

  Kirby noticed his hands were shaking. “That had to be horrible.”

  “It was. I was trained well for it, but it was horrible.” His face turned into granite.

  Kirby didn’t know what to say. She’d wondered what hardships Sam Gardner had endured. Now she knew. Her heart ached for him.

  “Hitchcock is great.” Sam leaned back into the cushions.

  He seemed as if he’d rather not talk about it anymore, so she didn’t press him. But she watched him—so big and strong, and stronger now that she knew his hardships. His pain.

  Life had a way of marking everyone.

  She willed away her own sadness about the plane accident that often troubled her so she couldn’t sleep. It had been the day she’d broken in two, never to be the same again.

  They ate ice cream in silence and drank the best cocoa she’d ever tasted. While the movie played, she snuggled up in the corner of the couch and watched. Now and then over handfuls of popcorn she’d sneak glances at Sam, who appeared to be engrossed in the story.

  Just the way he stirred her soul when he reached across the cushions and his hand settled over hers proved he was the right man.

  Chapter Nine

  “Earth to Kirby.” Humor sparkled in Monica’s voice as she set the stack of folders on the counter. “Come back to earth, girl. There’s a kid in exam room four waiting for you.”

  “A kid?” Kirby blinked, remembering where she was. Standing in the hallway closest to the waiting room that echoed with the sounds of coughing and sneezing children. “A patient. Oh, right.”

  “I can’t believe you. Whatever you were thinking about, you were totally absorbed.” The nurse winked. “Or is it who? A handsome suitor, maybe? Mr. Right?”

  Her face flamed. Heat scorched all the way to her hairline.

  “That’s what I thought.” Monica left the clipboard on the counter and padded off down the hallway. “Someone’s in love.”

  Yes, but I don’t admit it. This was the third time today she’d been thinking of Sam so hard that she’d forgotten where she was and what she was doing.

  When she ought to be charting, her mind drifted back to last night. Snuggled on the couch, with the TV’s soft light filtering over her, with Sam at her side. Not close enough to cuddle together, but close. She loved the way he would turn to her and comment on the movie in a low, vibrating baritone that was intimate and wonderful and warm all at once.

  Every time she thought of him, she felt that way. Warm, the way she did with the spring sunshine on her face. Happy, as if her problems were melting away. Enlivened, as if the May weather outside was blooming in her heart.

  She couldn’t wait to see him again.

  She glanced down at the chart. The last name was Bemis. Not Janice from high school—the one who always called her by her sister’s name. Kirby wanted to groan, but, hey, she could handle it. She could handle that woman.

  She opened the door and put a smile on her face.

  “Hello, Janice.”

  “Kendra. I’ve been calling you, but you haven’t returned my messages. I’m desperate.” Janice shifted her baby to her other arm so her hand was free to pat at her hair. “We’ve got two more months until the reunion, and I need volunteers!”

  “You haven’t left any messages on my answering machine.”

  “But—”

  “Maybe you aren’t calling the right sister. I’m Kirby, not Kendra, and I’m not interested in volunteering with you.” That done as politely as she could manage it, Kirby turned her attention to the little boy who sat on the exam table, swinging his legs.

  At first glance she noticed he was flushed, and the temperature noted on his chart confirmed that. “Hi there, Christopher. You didn’t go to school today, huh?”

  “Nope, ’cause I keep coughing up real yucky stuff.”

  “That’s a good reason not to go to school.” Kirby grabbed a wooden tongue blade. “This won’t hurt a bit. Can you open wide and say aah? That’s right. Good job.”

  She tossed the blade into the waste container and pulled her otoscope out of her pocket. “Do your ears hurt?”

  “Nah, but they feel funny.”

  “I’d better take a look there, too.” Kirby glanced into both ear canals. The tympanic membranes were red. Nothing serious, though.

  “Oh, my, well, I thought…” Janice looked perplexed. “Maybe I can still beg you to help me. There’s so much left to do—”

  “No.” She’d never said that word without feeling guilty before, but she did it. “I’ve got my hands full with my new job, my church and my family.”

  “Oh.” Janice’s polite smile faded.

  Turning back to the little boy, Kirby went to her stethoscope. “This isn’t going to hurt, I promise. I just want to listen to your lungs. Can you breathe in really slowly and out really slowly? Through your mouth. That’s right.”

  Kirby heard what she expected. Coarse and junky—yep, it was what she’d been hearing all morning from children and adults alike. Christopher had it, too.

  “It looks like you are pretty sick. You’ve got bronchitis, so you get to stay home from school for the rest of the week.”

  “Do I gotta get a shot?” Christo
pher eyed her warily, ready to put up a struggle.

  “Nope. It’s your lucky day. Janice, he needs rest and lots of fluids. I’ll give you a prescription for some really great cough syrup, which will make him more comfortable.”

  “Thank you.” The words came clipped, and the harsh fluorescent light overhead illuminated the dark circles beneath her eyes that her carefully applied makeup could not hide.

  Kirby knew a mother’s job wasn’t an easy one. “How’s the baby been? Is she sounding wheezy? Is she having trouble eating?”

  “No, she’s just been extra fussy.”

  “Keep an eye on her temperature. Give me a call if you think she’s catching this. I’m going to send in a prescription for antibiotics for Christopher. You use the drugstore uptown, don’t you? They’ll have the order ready when you get there.”

  “That will save me some time. Thanks, Kirby.”

  “You’re welcome.” No one’s life was as perfect as it looked, Kirby knew. Everyone could use help now and then. “What about you? Want me to take a look while you’re here?”

  “I have been coughing, but that’s all. I’m sure I can fight it off. I have to. I don’t have time to get sick.”

  “Then I’ll give you the same orders. Get as much rest as you can. Plenty of fluids. The cough medicine will work for you, too. Give me a call if that changes.” Kirby opened the top cabinet over the sink and held out a canister of Tootsie Pops. “Christopher, you did a great job. Are you going to go home and help take care of your mom and sister?”

  He chose a purple sucker. “Yep. I’m the big brother.”

  “You’re a fantastic one, too.” Kirby put away the canister and opened the door. “Take care, Janice.”

  “You, too, Kirby.”

  Well, that was one problem solved. Kirby updated Christopher’s chart as she headed across the hall to the nearest computer. E-mail was a wonderful invention, she mused as she zipped off an electronic prescription to the local pharmacy.

  Noise from the waiting room drifted down the corridor. By the sounds of it, she was going to have another long day. She’d been hoping to get off work on time, because wouldn’t it be nice to see Sam on his deck again, getting ready to barbecue?

  Sam. Her entire being sighed. She loved the welcoming grin that had lit him up when he’d spotted her last night over the fence. And later, when they’d eaten dinner and talked about their dogs, his solid, masculine presence had dwarfed her small eating nook. How companionable it had been sharing a meal and conversation with him.

  Would he be waiting for her tonight? Or, maybe, should she be the one to cook? To invite him over?

  “You look so happy, I hate to bother you.” Monica rapped on the open door as she sashayed in. She laid a pile of folders on the desk next to the computer. “There’s a call for you. Line five.”

  “Thanks.” She grabbed the receiver.

  Maybe if she were really efficient the rest of the afternoon, she wouldn’t get out of here too late. Maybe she’d stop by the video rental store on the way home and grab an old movie.

  “Kirby? It’s Jeremiah.” The doctor wasn’t only a volunteer, but worked at the free clinic. “It’s great you have your own practice. I know how hard you worked for that. I hope my job recommendation helped.”

  “It did, thank you. What can I do for you?”

  “I heard back on little Sarah. She’s home and doing better. She’s still on a waiting list for a donor match, and we’re hopeful. I’m getting a team together for when we get the call. Are you in?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear. I’ll be in touch.”

  Kirby hung up the phone. Her first thought was of Sam. Because he’d probably be flying them when the time came, she thought, but it was just a rationalization.

  She thought of him not because he was their pilot. She thought of him because she loved him.

  Did he love her? Only time would tell. But last night had given her hope.

  See how her thoughts kept circling around to him?

  Stop thinking about him. But there she was, thinking of Sam again.

  The rest of the afternoon would seem like an eternity until she could be with him.

  An eternity had passed and with it her optimism. It was seven o’clock before she locked the clinic’s back door behind her. The sun was heading swiftly for the mountain-rimmed horizon. Well past the dinner hour.

  Disappointment felt like a heavy stone in her chest. Okay, so the day hadn’t turned out as she’d expected. She’d stayed to treat every last patient. That had resulted in a ton of paperwork. If Sam had been watching for her and waiting to cook supper, then he’d have given up by now.

  There was no sense in stopping by the video store or hurrying home now.

  The sun was setting, and a chill was creeping into the air, for there was still snow on the nearby mountains. Maybe she could still see him, she reasoned as she hit the remote and opened her car door.

  When she went home, she would let Jessie out. And if she happened to accompany her dog into the backyard, then there was a chance Sam would be in his yard with his dog. They could at least chat over the fence. She could find out where he and Leo had flown off to today.

  Maybe, when she got home, she’d flip through the television guide to see if there was a good movie on. Then she could invite him over, pop corn and sit together on the couch. Didn’t that sound like a good plan?

  Her stomach grumbled fiercely as she backed out of the parking spot and into the alley. First she’d hunt down some food. She took the back street through town and caught sight of the lit neon sign of the local drive-in. The perfect solution.

  What if Sam wasn’t outside when she took Jessie out? What if there wasn’t a good movie on TV? These were definite problems in her plan.

  What was she doing plotting and planning anyway? She ought to be ashamed of herself. If God meant Sam to be her one true love, then He would make sure they wound up together. No amount of planning on her part would influence the outcome.

  No, it was a wiser choice to trust the Lord.

  That was her decision, but if she happened to run into Sam, she would ask him over to watch a movie.

  The local drive-in was an old cinder-block building neatly painted in a tidy white with dark blue trim. She pulled up to the microphone and studied her options. The white eraser board tacked up next to the hand-painted menu sign touted the daily specials.

  “Hey, is that you, Kirby?” Misty Collins asked over the speaker.

  “How did you know it was me?” She knew Misty because they went to church together and she was her sister Karen’s good friend. “Wait, I know, you saw my car drive past the side window.”

  “Guilty. Hey, are you going to go for the usual?”

  “Absolutely.” Kirby pulled around to the drive-through window and handed over a five-dollar bill.

  “How’s the new job working out?” Misty turned to pull change from her till.

  “Great.” She could look right past Misty into the restaurant.

  There, behind the counter, was a curve of muscled shoulder. Wait, she knew that shoulder. Her gaze traveled up the column of his neck to the square jaw.

  Sam. As if he felt her presence, he pivoted, his gaze riveting on her like a bullet finding its target. Leaving her pinned. Overwhelmed. Amazed.

  Awareness jolted through her like an electric current. An emotional awareness of high voltage that zinged from her heart to her soul.

  Trembling from the shock, Kirby realized Misty was waiting for her. She held out her hand, accepted the change. She dropped the quarters and nickels and pennies into her purse, unable to break away.

  The world around her vanished. The lavender glare of twilight, the rush of the wind from the air conditioner, the clang of the old cash register as Misty slammed the drawer shut.

  There was only Sam. He filled her vision.

  Then the hard line of his mouth softened into a crooked grin. One dark bro
w arched in a question.

  A question she felt deep in her heart. A question she heard as clearly as if he’d spoken. Want to come in and join me?

  Yes, she answered with all the power of her being.

  His grin broadened and became a smile that was an answer, an answer that blazed in his dark eyes.

  It was the look of a man interested. Sam Gardner was interested in her.

  “Here’s your burger.” Unaware, Misty handed the bag of food and the heavy cup through the window, and broke the moment. She moved fully into the window and blocked Kirby’s view of Sam. “Have a good evening. I’ll see you at Sunday school.”

  “Y-yes.” Shaken, Kirby set the bag on the passenger floor and the cold milk shake in the cup holder. Her hands were cold and trembling. She felt as if her spine had turned to Jell-O. Somehow she put her car in gear and pulled forward.

  The wide lit windows of the drive-in glowed in invitation as she pulled into a parking spot in the front.

  There was Sam, standing in the window, shrugging out of his leather bomber jacket, revealing the T-shirt beneath. An old, olive-green T-shirt that said U.S. Army in faded, wash-worn script.

  He tossed the jacket onto the booth’s seat. Everything he did, every movement he made was powerful, masculine, sure.

  He made every other man in existence seem ordinary. As if he could make gravity stop working and the world stop spinning. At least, that’s the way it seemed as she floated from her car to the restaurant.

  He was already watching her, standing like a gentleman, and he waited as she slipped into the red cushioned bench across from him. He sat after she did.

  “What’s a good girl like you doing in a place like this? I would have pegged you for a wholesome, home-cooking sort.” He eyed the supersized foam cup she lowered to the table.

  “I had to work late, and I was too tired and hungry to even think of going home and cooking. Besides, a bacon cheeseburger is wholesome. At least in my book.”

  “A bacon double cheeseburger.” Grinning, he held up his sandwich, thick and dripping with grease and everything good. “I had a late day, too. Got wrapped up with an inspection and paperwork, and the fire department nailed me because I didn’t have a working fire extinguisher in my office. Everything else was good, and considering I just took over the place, I think they could have been more lenient.”