“You were going to come down to Pensacola and see me graduate?”
Noah nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well—I mean, how did you know I was graduating, or even in the Coast Guard?”
“Grandfather Rufford always kept tabs on you. He was proud of you, too, Rook. Every once in a while, I’d get a note from him about how you were doing, your grades….”
“I—see.” She closed her fingers around the wings. “You said you were in the hospital? What happened?”
“Nothing much,” he muttered, unwilling to discuss it.
“I want to know.”
Noah hitched up one shoulder, holding her wavering gaze. ‘Two days before I was to get leave to fly down and attend your graduation, I got an attack of appendicitis.”
Rook saw the tension in his broad shoulders, the stiffness in his posture. Noah had planned to come to her graduation….
Rook stared down at the wings, touched far more than she wanted to be by his admission. But one humane gesture didn’t make up for the years of pain she’d endured from Noah and his family. “I see.”
“I’ve got to go, Rook. I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah….” He opened the door, walking away and leaving her alone.
Silence filled the ready room. Somehow, it felt empty without Noah’s larger-than-life presence. Rook sat down, her knees suddenly weak. She sat there, brow resting against the hand that held the gold wings. How could Noah be so thoughtful and yet, beneath it all, be such a callous liar? In all those years, she’d never heard one word from him—ever. The only time she had seen him was on her infrequent visits back to D.C. And then, Jack had made sure they were kept as far apart as possible.
Gil guided the small but ungainly looking ’60 toward the eastern end of the city, where the hospital was located. He could see a trauma team standing by with two gurneys and oxygen equipment, just outside the yellow circle where he’d land the bird. “How bad is that one guy?”
“Not breathing well,” Annie responded worriedly, staying with her two patients in the rear of the ’60. Chuck Gerrero, their rescue swimmer, had medical training and was helping Annie with the survivors.
The landing was uneventful, as was the transfer of the two fishermen. As Annie Locke secured the cabin for the quick flight back to base, she smiled up at Reno.
“Good job, sir. You pumped a lot of air into him when we had to give CPR.” Reno had helped Chuck while she dealt with the other survivor.
Reno gripped her shoulder and smiled. “Are you saying I’m a bag of hot air?”
Annie smiled, her homely, freckled face lighting up, front teeth white and pronounced. “I guess we both are, sir. That fisherman stands a better chance of making it because we are.”
“I hope so, Annie.” Reno went back to the cockpit. In no time, they had landed. Annie, Chuck and the copilot were wet and would have to go for a change of clothes. The ’60 would be brought into the hangar, washed and refueled, so it would be ready for another SAR case if one was called in. Gil praised Annie, Chuck and Reno for their professionalism on the rescue. He was the last to leave the craft. As he walked away, he saw Chappie Jarvis glowering in Annie’s direction. What was his problem? The protective hackles on Gil’s neck rose. He slowed his pace, waiting to see if Jarvis, whose nose was a bright red, was going to intercept Annie. The chief was drunk again—as usual. Luckily for Jarvis, he let Annie pass without comment while she went to retrieve a suit.
Heading through the hangar, Gil went to the line shack to fill out the maintenance sheet and pilot’s flight record. Then, he walked back to Admin. He would be senior duty officer for the rest of the twenty-four-hour period. A situation report would have to be filed with the SAR coordinator for the 13th District in Seattle via computer. After that, he’d have to inform the Ops officer, plus call the local newspaper, the Port Angeles Star, to give them the details regarding the case. Paperwork was the great enemy of a pilot, he groused to himself, getting writer’s cramp. He’d forgotten about Rook Caldwell until he saw her waiting patiently by the SAR desk. Rook saw the strain around Logan’s mouth and eyes as he placed his log on the counter. “How’d it go?”
“One alive and the other, who knows?”
Rook was taken aback by his callous comment. Didn’t he care what happened to them? Emotionally spent herself, she didn’t pursue the topic. In the next few weeks she’d find out what SAR cases were like, and maybe she’d end up just as flip and hard as Logan. She hoped she wouldn’t.
Shaken from her confrontation with Noah, she walked around the desk, unable to sit still. Gil gave her an assessing look.
“Look,” he muttered, continuing to fill out paperwork, “I’m going to be busy until about 1400. Haven’t you got unpacking to do or something?” And then he forced a smile for her sake, not wanting Rook to take his brusqueness the wrong way. “Take the time off and come back.”
Grateful, Rook nodded, picking up her cap. “Sounds good, Mr. Logan.”
“Gil,” he reminded her, holding her gaze. She looked positively ill, or close to it. Why? Too harried himself, Logan let his observation go. “See you at 1400, okay?”
“Fine.” Rook headed out the side door and to the rented car. If she hurried, she’d be in time to meet the movers. Again, her luck was holding—in some ways.
Chapter Six
At noon Rook sat on one of the unopened boxes, silence surrounding her. The movers had arrived at nine o’clock—right on time. Her stomach grumbled. After not eating any breakfast and then having her confrontation with Noah she should be starved, but she wasn’t. This was only the third time in her life that she’d felt this kind of terrible, weighted depression. And as much as she fought to get rid of it, she couldn’t. It was demoralizing.
Glumly, Rook looked around her newly leased two-bedroom apartment overlooking the straits. She should be happy, but she wasn’t. Her first duty station was turning out to be a nightmare. Noah…
Tears welled up in Rook’s eyes and she sniffed. There was a soft knock at the front door. Getting off the box, Rook dug around in her jeans pocket for a tissue. There were none. She walked to the door, not caring if her visitor saw her tears. Rook knew then she’d hit bottom emotionally. The only other times she’d felt like this were when Noah had decided to stay with Jack and when her mother had died.
Jim Barton’s smile faded when he saw the tears in Rook’s eyes. There was a smudge of dust on her cheek, and her once neatly brushed hair looked as if someone had tousled it playfully. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
“Looks like you need some help,” he said huskily, and held up two sacks from McDonald’s. “I got a couple of hamburgers, some trench fries, plus chocolate and strawberry milk shakes.” He couldn’t tear his gaze from the misery he saw in her gray eyes. “I figured you’d be moving today and you’d be pretty hungry by now.”
Touched beyond words, Rook stepped aside, motioning for him to enter. “Come in,” she said in a strained tone.
Jim looked around the apartment. Boxes were scattered everywhere. He was bothered by the fact that Rook had been crying. The door shut quietly and he turned.
There was compassion in Jim’s face. A wall of pain burst from Rook’s heart.
“Thanks,” she whispered, gesturing to the lunch he’d brought.
“You didn’t eat anything this morning over at the restaurant.”
Rubbing her brow, Rook stood there, unsure. “I know….”
“It was my fault.” He shrugged and opened one of the sacks. “Come on, let’s get you to take a break and eat.”
Rook took a seat on the plum-colored couch. Jim brought over the food and sat down opposite her on an unpacked box.
“What do you want to drink?”
“I—pick one. I don’t care.”
Frowning, Jim chose the strawberry milk shake and handed it to her. He noticed her hand shaking when she gripped the container.
They ate in silence. Occasionally, Jim would glance up at Rook. It was
as if someone had taken all the spirit and fire out of her. What the hell had happened between this morning and now to do that? He finished off his sandwich quickly, throwing the wrapper back into the sack.
“Looks like you’ve got a big job ahead of you,” he commented, trying to keep things conversational. If Rook wanted to talk about it, he’d let her take the first step.
“Yeah, it looks impossible right now.” Rook chewed on the food, not tasting it, staring down at the floor.
Jim sensed she was talking about something other than her apartment. “Sometimes, a little help gets things moving in the right direction. A little talking…”
“No,” Rook muttered. “Nothing’s going to help me.”
He cocked his head, studying her morose features. “I’m a pretty good listener, Rook.”
Why was she eating? It was just sitting in her stomach like a huge, heavy rock. Putting the hamburger aside, she sipped on the cool, sweet milk shake. For some reason, she felt her spirits beginning to lift. Was it because of Jim Barton? No, that was impossible.
Yet, when Rook lifted her chin and looked over at him, her entire being responded powerfully to the hope and care she saw in his eyes. She made a weak gesture around the room.
“Have you ever had your life resemble what this place looks like right now?”
Jim studied the apartment for a long minute, ferreting out what she meant by her question. “I believe there are times when everyone’s life seems to fall apart. And when it does, it can be pretty confusing for a while.”
“Has it in yours?”
He pursed his lips. “Yeah, a few times.” And then he gave her a wry smile—a smile meant to heal her. “My mother died when I was ten, and I was in a shambles for a long time after that. It made this room look picked up in comparison.”
She understood that. Rook set the milk shake aside, the need to talk clawing up her throat. “My mother died less than a year ago. I was away. She was alone in Odessa, Texas. She had this heart condition. I knew she was getting worse.” Rook rested her hand against her brow, closing her eyes. “I was praying to get done with school and get home before…
“When I graduated, I’d have extra money. Mother needed a full-time nurse. I couldn’t afford one on my paycheck—just a part-time one.”
The terrible softness of Rook’s voice tore through Jim. “You’re blaming yourself for something that was out of your hands, Rook. It sounds like you were doing the best you could.”
Sighing, Rook looked up at him, tears filling her eyes. This time, she didn’t care what he thought. Somewhere inside her, she knew Jim wouldn’t read them as a sign of weakness. “I had two lousy months to go, that was all. Maybe, if she’d had that full-time nurse on duty, she’d have gotten her to the hospital in time to save her.”
Rook’s vulnerability was excruciating in that moment. It was the first time she’d allowed Jim to see her—the real woman who hid inside those hard walls she erected so easily to keep him out. Gently, he said, “I’m sure your mother loved you for all your efforts, Rook. And I’m sure she understood right down to the last moment of her life.” He saw her shrug, her shoulders, which had once been proudly thrown back and square, now broken by the unknown load that had struck her in the last few hours. “What about your father or the rest of your family? Were they doing anything to help your mother?”
Hardness returned to Rook’s eyes. “My father is a bastard. Unfortunately, he’s still living and my mother is dead, thanks to him.” She stood up suddenly and went over to a box, unpacking it with renewed fury.
Jim assimilated the hatred and vehemence in her contralto voice. He watched Rook for a while as she began to unpack another box. That incredibly mobile and beautiful face betrayed her real self, the woman he wanted to know. Getting up, he walked over to her. His head was screaming at him to do one thing, his heart another. A long time ago, he had found out that his heart was his best guide. Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around her arm, pulling her gently around to face him.
She stood there, looking like a disheveled and lost child in his eyes. The shirt she wore hung down across her long, curved thighs; her hair was mussed and endearing. Reluctantly, Jim released her. “Look, something happened to you between breakfast and now.” He searched for the right words, his voice low. “I know you think I’m trying to get you into bed, but I’m not.” Liar. “I’ll admit, I’m damned attracted to you, but Rook, a man can be a friend to a woman, too.”
She searched his face. His honesty pared through all her experiences with men and her confusion mounted. She’d never had a man as a friend. Only Jake, but he was more like the grandfather she’d never had. “I don’t have the strength to argue with you, Jim. And right now, I’ve got bigger problems—problems I never anticipated.”
A frisson of joy raced through him. Rook had called him by his first name. It was a step in the right direction—a small, but important step of trust. “We have nothing to argue about between ourselves, Rook. Besides, that’s not important right now. You are. Come on, sit down. You don’t have to tell me the details, but get some of it off your chest.”
Rook moved to the couch and sat down. Jim remained where he was. She gave him a curious look. “You’re different now. Why?”
“Different?”
“Before, you were chasing me. You aren’t now.”
“I’m glad you can tell the difference.” His smile was encouraging. “Give me the straight scoop. What happened this morning?”
Rook held his unwavering gaze. Before, she’d always had her mother to talk with. Now, she had no one. “I barely know you.”
“Maybe we knew each other in a past life?”
She gave him a wry glance. “You believe in that stuff?”
“We’re comfortable with each other, Rook. It’s important that we recognize that, no matter what the reason.”
Jim was right, she conceded. “I feel stupid, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Gathering her thoughts, she finally spoke. “I just found out that my brother, Noah Caldwell, is stationed here. I didn’t know that. It’s like a bad dream, Jim.”
“You don’t get along with him?”
“Not since our parents divorced. Noah could have come with us and helped. Instead, he stayed with Dad. Then, it was up to me to care for Mom.”
Barton ambled over, sitting down at the other end of the couch, purposely keeping the distance between them so Rook wouldn’t get the wrong idea. “Go on,” he coaxed.
Rook launched into the details, leaving out the fact that she was a Coast Guard helicopter pilot. Something inside her said Barton wouldn’t like to know that. She was purposefully vague on her career but filled him in on other pertinent details. When she had finished twenty minutes later, she looked up to see what kind of impact her story had had on him.
Rubbing his jaw, Jim stared back at her. There was so much to digest, and it began to explain why Rook had behaved the way she had with him. Men meant abandonment. When the chips were down, they had proven completely unreliable in her child’s eyes. That feeling ran just as deep today, he realized. “A broken home hamstrings everyone,” he began. “You were a victim—a helpless pawn on the battleground between your parents. That’s a pretty good blow to your sense of self-worth.”
“Believe me, my self-worth is in fine shape. And I’ve got confidence, to boot. I just didn’t plan on Noah being here, that was all.” Rook stood and went to the kitchen, getting a glass of water. Oddly, she felt better having told Jim about Noah and her dysfunctional family relationship. When she came back into the living room he was still sitting there, frowning.
Jim wasn’t so sure about that, but didn’t say anything. Her face had color to it now, and her eyes no longer appeared dull. Just talking it out had helped Rook get over the worst of it.
Setting the glass aside, Rook began to unpack another box. “It’s been a long time since I confided something this important to anyone.”
“See, it didn’t hurt, did it?”
She rallied beneath his teasing. “No…not yet.”
“Oh? You think later on I’ll spill this deep, dark secret of yours to the world?”
Rook drowned in his amused features. “No, there’s something trustworthy about you, I suppose.” A small smile tugged at her mouth.
Placing his hand on his heart, Jim dramatized her state ment. “I don’t believe this! Finally, she realizes I’m not such a bad sort, after all.”
“I have a feeling you know yourself and people a lot better than I do.”
“It’s our age difference,” Jim assured her lightly, watching her respond beautifully to his efforts to pull her out of that darkness that held her in its invisible grip. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Twenty-five. You?”
“Thirty-two. See, I’m an old man in comparison to you.”
Jim didn’t look that old. He was darkly tanned from working long hours outdoors, physically in peak condition and bursting with an inner vitality she’d not seen in many men. “I don’t see you as an old man,” she murmured.
“Whew, that was close.”
Rook smiled. She carefully unwrapped the picture of her mother and held it for a long time. Walking over to Jim, she offered it to him, her voice unsteady with emotion. “This is my mom. I mean, it was.”
The color photo revealed a woman almost identical to Rook. “She’ll always be alive in your heart,” Jim told her. The woman in the picture couldn’t be more than in her mid-forties. She was small boned, fragile looking, with Rook’s black hair and incredible, dove-gray eyes. “Tell me about your mom,” he coaxed softly. By knowing her mother, he would learn much about Rook that she wouldn’t ordinarily have shared with him until much later in their relationship. Jim shook himself inwardly. Relationship. Funny, from the instant he’d met Rook, that was what he wanted with her—a long-term relationship, in order to search and explore one another. She had that kind of complexity that drew him, called to him and he couldn’t help but respond to it. Nor did he want to. Jim looked up at Rook, who stood near his right shoulder.
Beginning with You Page 7