by Janet Dailey
With the sun going down and the fire blazing in the pit, the students roasted their hot dogs and garnished them with mustard, cheese and chili. Then they wolfed them down with chips and potato salad.
Kira found a place next to Paige and helped the little girl cook and prepare her hot dog. Glancing up, she caught Jake watching them from the far side of the fire pit. He lifted an eyebrow and gave her a twitch of a smile. Was he smiling at her, she wondered, or at his daughter? Maybe at both of them.
With the fire burned down to coals and the students feasting on s’mores, Dusty picked up his guitar and strummed the opening chords of “I’m Ridin’ Old Paint.” By the time he began to sing, the low buzz of conversation and laughter had faded. The students probably had very different tastes in music, Kira reflected. But their respect for the old cowboy was such that they kept quiet and listened. Soon their faces began to smile, their bodies to sway a little with the music. It was as if the twilight air, the emerging stars, the glowing fire and the Western ballads had woven a spell over them.
Dusty sang “Strawberry Roan” and “Cool Water,” followed by a funny song about a cowboy who couldn’t get off his horse because some blankety-blank had put glue on the saddle. As his audience applauded, he put up his hand for silence.
“Now we’ve got a special treat for you,” he said. “This talented young lady will be performing for the very first time. In a few years, when she’s become a big star, you can all say you heard her here tonight. Let’s give her a hand.”
As Jake and the students clapped, Paige walked forward to stand next to her great-grandfather. Kira swallowed her surprise. She’d never heard Paige sing. But something told her the little girl had had some coaching.
Playing softly, so as not to drown out her voice, Dusty strummed the intro to “You Are My Sunshine.” Right on cue, Paige began to sing. Her childish voice was sweet and true, her confidence total as she nailed not only the first verse but also the second and the chorus. Kira’s eyes met Jake’s across the circle of glowing coals. She saw pride there—pride verging on tears.
Perhaps that was the moment when she knew she loved him.
* * *
After the entertainment, Kira excused herself to get Paige ready for bed and tuck her in. “I was so proud of you tonight,” she whispered as she pulled up the quilt and kissed the little girl’s cheek. “You were amazing. I didn’t know you could sing.”
“Grandpa helped me.” Paige turned her face toward the photo on the nightstand. “Aunt Kira, do you think my mom could hear me from up in heaven?”
Kira blinked back a tear. “I’m sure she could, honey. And I can just imagine how proud she must’ve been.”
“Maybe someday my dad will get to hear me sing, too.”
Kira looked away to hide a rush of emotion. When she turned back toward the bed, Paige had rolled onto her side and closed her eyes.
* * *
In the house, she turned off the security light. She would turn it on again before she went to bed. But the night was clear and peaceful. The glare would only spoil it.
By the time she came back outside, the cookout had been cleared away and the table folded. The leftover food, condiments and utensils had been boxed and carried into the house. The students had retired to their cabins. Dusty, too, had taken his guitar and probably gone off to bed. Only Jake remained. He was standing by the fire pit, gazing down at the glowing coals. At Kira’s approach, he looked up.
“Thanks for cleaning up the mess,” she said. “It’s nice to come outside and find it done.”
“The kids did most of the work. It didn’t take long. Sit down and relax.” He indicated a spot near the fire pit. “You look like you could use a rest. I could make you another s’more, if you want one.”
Kira gave him a smile. The man could be endearing when he chose to be. “I’ve had enough to eat, thanks. Besides, everything’s put away.”
He sat beside her on the bench at a comfortable distance. His manner made her wonder if he had something serious on his mind. But if he did, he didn’t seem to be in a hurry.
“Did you learn anything new about the motorcycle?” she asked, making conversation.
“Only that sitting in the shed all those years didn’t do it any good. Dirty gas tank, dead battery and spark plugs, clogged fuel line, probably bad fuel pump, too—all things that’ll have to be fixed before I can figure out what caused it to break down in the first place.”
“I understand you had a helper.” Dusty had mentioned seeing Mack out by the shed.
Jake chuckled. “I can’t say he was much help. But the kid’s really into motorcycles. Talked my ear off. I didn’t have the heart to send him away.”
“Mack looked happier tonight than I’d ever seen him. He has to keep working with the horses, but what he really needs is a way to feel good about himself. I hope you won’t mind letting him help you sometimes.”
“I had a feeling you were going to say that. Sure. He can hang around when he’s not with the group. I’ll even see that he gets extra practice with the saddle and bridle, so he can keep up.”
“Thank you.” She reached out impulsively and laid a hand on his arm. His skin was warm to the touch, the muscles firm and taut beneath. His breath caught slightly, but he didn’t speak. In the silence, Kira could hear the chirr of crickets, the crackle and hiss of the dying fire. She liked touching him, liked the subtle electric current that seemed to flow from his skin to hers.
At last, he shifted on the bench and cleared his throat. “Our little girl did us proud tonight, didn’t she?”
“Our little girl.” It sounded strange, but not really wrong.
“I had no idea she could perform like that,” Kira said. “Dusty must have spent some time with her.”
“Whatever it took, she blew me away,” Jake said. “It was all I could do to keep from hugging her and telling her how proud of my daughter I was.”
“About that . . .” Kira let go of his arm and turned to face him on the bench. She’d been unsure of how to warn him about what might be Paige’s growing suspicions, but he’d just given her an opening.
“Paige asked me why you don’t shave your beard,” she said. “She’s a smart little girl. I don’t know how much longer you can keep her from guessing the truth.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” He gazed into the dying fire.
“Kira, what would you think if I decided to stay—or to give it a try at least?”
Her pulse skipped. “I’ve already asked you to stay. You know it’s what I want. It’s what Dusty wants, too.”
“You know the risks. What if I can’t control this monster inside me?”
“Then we’ll deal with it. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stay. I can’t help thinking that your best chance of getting better is right here.”
“But what about Paige? It would kill me to leave her, but I can’t stand the thought of her seeing me at my worst.”
“I’ve already talked with her about your PTSD. If you told her what to expect if you have an episode, I think she’d understand.”
“Maybe. Still, it’s damned scary.”
“I know. When would you plan to tell her you’re her father?”
“Not right away. Not until I can feel confident about staying. If this didn’t work out, and I ended up leaving . . .”
Still gazing into the coals, he let the words trail off. Kira understood. To leave Paige as a stranger passing through would be one thing. To leave as her father could scar the rest of her life.
After a pause, he turned back to face her. “There’s one more thing, Kira. I want an honest answer.”
Kira waited in the silence. Whatever Jake was about to say, she sensed, it was weighing heavily on him.
“You and me,” he said. “We’ve been playing these chicken games long enough. I need to know whether there’s anything more—anything that would give me a reason to stay.”
Kira’s pulse stuttered. She fumbled for words
—but words wouldn’t be enough. Jake needed more.
Looking into his shadowed eyes, she cupped his cheek with her hand, leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
She felt his breath catch. Then his arms went around her, crushing her close. The kiss warmed and deepened, drawing her into him. She ached with yearning, wanting the dark room, the soft bed and Jake loving her.
His fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt. She reached up to help him, wanting his intimate touch, his hands, his mouth....
“Something tells me we’re in the wrong place,” she murmured against his ear.
With a raw laugh, he caught her waist and swept her across the yard to his dark cabin.
* * *
Inside, with the door securely locked, they took up where they’d left off, their kisses hot and hungry, their hands seeking sweet, forbidden places. Kira’s blouse slipped to the floor, followed by her bra. The touch of his callused hands on her bare skin brought tears to her eyes. She moaned, arching against him, feeling his hard need against her hips. All she could think of was wanting more—wanting all of this strong, wounded man and what he could give her.
Her eager fingers tugged at his belt. With a mutter, he unhooked the buckle, unsnapped his jeans and let them drop to the floor, kicking off his boots as he stepped out of them.
Breathless in their haste, they left a trail of clothes across the tiled floor before they fell into bed, wrapped in each other’s arms.
His skin was cool, his flesh pitted with the scars of war—each one a memory of pain. Kira brushed them with tender fingertips. If only she could love that pain away, she thought. And then, as her body welcomed him home, her thoughts were lost in a burst of wonder. This was Jake—her antagonist, her friend, her soul mate. He was making love to her, healing her in the deepest way—perhaps healing himself as well. She gave in to the shimmering sensations, rode the swell to a soaring peak. She cried out, then drifted slowly back to earth.
Spent, they lay side by side. Kira nestled against him, listening as his breathing deepened and he fell asleep. Then, knowing she must, she eased away from him, pulled on her clothes and prepared to leave. For a moment, she stood looking down at him. She loved this man, loved what he’d given her. At this moment, she couldn’t have been happier. But for Kira, happiness held its own terrors.
The future loomed dark with uncertainty. Jake’s struggle to control his PTSD would likely last the rest of his life. But at least he had a chance—they had a chance, she reminded herself. For now, that would have to be enough.
* * *
The next morning, Jake was up with the students to make sure the stable was clean and the horses cared for before the trip to town. He could have easily done the job himself, but the youngsters had to learn that, even on a holiday, they couldn’t neglect their animals.
“Why can’t I stay here with you?” Mack cornered Jake outside his horse’s stall. “I’d rather help you work on the bike than go to a stupid old fiesta.”
“I have other jobs to do first,” Jake told him. “And anyway, you’re not here to work on motorcycles. You’re here to work with your horse and do things with your group. That’s what your parents paid for. So go and have fun.”
“That’s not fair!” Mack kicked at the side of the stall. “I never get to do what I want to!”
“You can help later, but only if you stop complaining. The world doesn’t revolve around what you want. The sooner you get used to that, the happier you’ll be.”
Jake shook his head as Mack stomped off to get his shovel. Had he boosted the boy’s self-esteem by letting him help with the motorcycle? Or had he just created one more demand? But that question was Kira’s department. She was the therapist, not him. Thank heaven.
He gave himself a moment to remember last night and the way he’d felt making love to her. Lord, how he wanted to keep that feeling! To be here, with his little girl and a woman to love, would be his idea of heaven. But could he make that heaven last? Could he find the strength to control the horrors in his head—the nightmares, the rages and the awful black bouts of depression?
With everything he’d ever wanted on the line, he had to try.
This morning he joined Dusty, Paige and the students for breakfast. Kira had laid out a cold buffet of cereal, rolls, fruit, cheese, juice and milk. Her gaze met his, briefly, across the dining room. They didn’t speak, but her warm look said it all. Nothing had changed since last night.
The new challenge would be finding time alone with her.
After breakfast and a quick bathroom break, everyone piled into the big Jeep—Kira driving, Dusty in the passenger seat, Paige behind them belted in her booster seat, and the students filling the remaining spaces on the three bench seats. Jake, with the dog standing at his side, watched them drive out the side gate and down the road. He felt strangely lonesome, being the only person here. But he had plenty to keep him busy. Much of the day would be spent brushing a coat of protective oil on the newly repaired stable roof. After that, if the job didn’t take too long, he might have time to spend on the motorcycle.
But first he owed himself some needed peace and pleasure.
In the stable, he took a saddle, a pad and a bridle from the tack room, then walked down the row of stalls to the very last one. Dynamite nickered at his approach.
“Hello, old boy,” Jake said, opening the gate of the stall. “How would you like to take me for a nice morning ride?”
* * *
By the end of the outing, Dusty and Paige were tired, and even the students were winding down. But Kira was satisfied that the break from routine had been worth the time. They’d strolled through the historic section of town, touring the San Xavier Mission, visiting a craft market and enjoying a fiesta staged by a church group, featuring traditional food, music and dancing.
While Dusty rested on a bench in the plaza, she’d also given her students time to explore the shops, gardens and galleries.
As on their earlier trip to the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, she made it a practice to watch how her students were interacting socially. There’d been some interesting changes. Most surprising was the friendship between Brandon and Heather. The two of them—opposites in many ways, but each an outsider—were walking apart from the group, talking earnestly. Had Brandon come out to the brash, attention-starved girl? That could be a good thing. Both of them needed support, and they appeared to be getting it from each other.
Faith and Lanie were hanging together, sporting identical French braids—also a good sign. Both girls needed friendship. Patrick and Calvin, who seemed to be getting along, were trailed by an unhappy-looking Mack. Of all her students, Mack worried Kira the most. Last night, after spending the afternoon with Jake, he’d appeared happier than she’d ever seen him. Today he looked as if he wanted to punch somebody.
Most of Kira’s students finished the horse therapy program with renewed self-esteem, empathy for others, and a heightened sense of responsibility. Nearly two weeks into the course, she could see that happening with most of these young people. But not everyone succeeded. Some went home for rule breaking. A few, with serious issues, needed more help than she could give them. Still others simply refused to cooperate. She was far from ready to chalk up Mack as one of her failures, but she needed a better way to reach the boy.
She was loading everyone into the Jeep when her cell phone rang. The caller was Consuelo.
“I wanted to let you know I was back,” she said. “I’ll have dinner ready by the time you get here.”
“Have you seen Jake?”
“He’s out in the shed, working on that bike. Do you want me to call him?”
“No, that’s fine. We’re just getting ready to leave, so we’ll be home soon.”
“Oh, one more thing,” Consuelo said. “I picked up the mail from the box on my way in. Mostly just bills and things. But there’s a letter addressed to Dusty. It looks like it’s from somewhere in Africa.”
At the mention of �
�Africa,” a knot formed in the pit of Kira’s stomach. Her aunt Barbara—Dusty’s daughter and Wendy’s mother—was in Africa with her minister husband. There’d been little contact with them over the years, so why a letter now? What if it was bad news?
Maybe she should open the letter before giving it to Dusty, so she could prepare him for whatever it held. She’d never approved of opening other people’s mail, but the old man was fragile. An emotional shock could be dangerous to his health.
Thanking Consuelo, she ended the call. Dusty had settled in the passenger seat. He looked worn-out. He’d probably overdone it today. She would give him the letter after dinner, when he’d had a chance to rest.
After buckling Paige into her booster seat and making sure her students were safely belted in, Kira started for home. Everyone was tired. By the time they passed the outskirts of Tucson, Dusty had fallen into a doze, his silvery head drooping forward over his chest.
By the time they reached the ranch, it was getting dark. Kira pulled into the yard and let her students out of the Jeep, so they could wash up in their cabins and come back to the house for dinner. Dusty had awakened. He yawned, climbed stiffly to the ground and headed for the front porch.
Paige, still in her booster seat, was fast asleep. Kira had climbed out, opened the side door and was unbuckling the straps when she felt someone behind her.
“Let me carry her inside for you,” Jake said, close to her ear.
She stepped aside to let him scoop Paige out of the seat and lift her in his arms. Roused by the motion, Paige opened her eyes, looked up at Jake with a sleepy smile and drifted off again.
Kira saw his jaw tighten, saw his throat move as if gulping back emotion. She moved with him into the house, holding the door so he could pass through with his precious bundle