by Marta Perry
She’d survived. She’d made a success of her life. She wouldn’t let a high school mistake affect her job.
They’d both changed. She’d said something like that to Ken, and it was true. The lithe, smiling boy had turned into a strong, broad-shouldered man. The responsibility of command had put lines in his face, emphasizing his maturity, but his golden-brown eyes still seemed to look toward the skies.
Somehow she thought the lines of tension around his lips were recent, the product of the trials of the past few months. The crash had left a few visible scars on him, and probably many more that weren’t so visible.
Her heart seemed to wince at the thought. Be with him, Lord. He’s struggling now—I know it.
She could pray for him, but that was all she could do. Kenneth Vance was out of her league. He had been in high school, and he still was. She tapped the keys, determined to concentrate on the report and banish Ken from her thoughts.
Unfortunately for her concentration, the door banged open. Somehow she knew without turning around that it was Ken. Well, they were colleagues now. She could act like a friend.
“How’s it going?” He came to perch on the edge of her desk, looking as if all he had to do all day was sit there and watch her. In jeans and a sweatshirt, he had a casual charm. She could imagine how devastating he’d be in his Air Force uniform.
“Fine.” She perched her hands on the keys and tried to look busy. “Are things quiet down at the site?”
“Minor vandalism.” He frowned, lines forming between his straight eyebrows. “The cops think it’s just resentment from people who were relocated when the hospital took over that block.”
“That’s natural enough, I guess. No matter how rundown the houses were, they were home to someone.”
He rubbed the left side of his forehead, the side where the puckered scar was dangerously close to his eye. She shuddered a little inside. Holly, Ken’s sister, had told her that Ken’s vision was affected by the accident—that was why he couldn’t fly. Any closer and he’d have lost the eye entirely.
“What?” He was frowning at her now, and she knew she’d stared at him too long.
“Nothing. I was just thinking that you looked as if you have a headache. Maybe you should take a break.”
He stood abruptly, his posture straight. Military. He looked at her as if he’d never met her.
“I’m fine. I don’t need anyone fussing over me.” He wheeled and stalked out.
That went well. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.
Ken didn’t want to be her friend. He didn’t need anyone else to care about him.
What did she expect? He had hordes of friends and family just waiting to help him. But did they see what she saw? Did they see the scars the accident had left on his soul?
Maybe she recognized it in him because she’d been there, too. She knew what it was like to feel like a failure. To feel that God had deserted you.
Images rocketed through her mind, and she forced them away. She couldn’t control the pictures when they came to her in her dreams at night, but she could when she was awake. She wouldn’t let them in.
That made it all the more impossible for her to help Ken, even if he’d been willing. She’d just begun trying to stumble her way back to spiritual wholeness. She couldn’t help Ken, because she wasn’t even sure she could help herself.
The stained-glass windows of the church parlor were dark images at night, but the room was warm with lamplight and the buzz of soft conversation. Julianna had been attending the evening Bible study for only about a month, but already she felt at home here. Pastor Gabriel Dawson had the gift of making everyone who walked through the door feel welcome.
The grandfather clock in the corner of the parlor struck the hour, and at the signal people began finding seats. The older folks settled into the conversational grouping of couches and love seats. Julianna slid into the back row of folding chairs.
She glanced toward the door. Holly Vance, now Holly Montgomery since her marriage, was usually here by this time. Of course, with the excitement of having her brother home, to say nothing of her pregnancy and taking care of her husband and home, she could have decided to skip tonight’s session.
The door opened. Holly came in, the aqua sweater she wore laying smoothly over the rounded bulge of her pregnancy.
Julianna smiled, meeting her eyes, and waved. Holly waved back, a little wiggle of her fingers indicating they’d sit together.
And then Julianna saw who came in the door behind her. Ken.
Several other people saw Ken at the same time, and they began getting up, surrounding him to shake his hand or hug him. Their welcomes gave her the minutes she needed to compose herself.
She should have guessed Holly might bring him. She was Ken’s twin, after all, and she was probably the closest to him of all his numerous relatives. Right now Holly was beaming, obviously considering it a coup that she’d succeeded in getting him here. She looked up at her tall brother with such pride and pleasure that it made Julianna blink back tears.
By the time they sat down beside her, she was able to smile, appear composed and act as if it didn’t matter in the least that the object of her high school dreams was sitting next to her. But she was thankful when Pastor Gabriel began the study and she could focus her attention on him.
It wasn’t the fault of Pastor Gabriel’s excellent presentation on Psalms that her gaze strayed to Ken’s strong hand, clasped tightly on his knee. Judging by the set to his jaw and the tension in his hand, Holly’s plan to bring him tonight wasn’t as successful as she might have hoped.
It also wasn’t Pastor Gabriel’s fault that it was taking all her strength to keep the dark images at bay. Maybe she should blame that on Ken. It was his stress that was fueling hers.
She tried to focus on the psalm they were discussing. “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear?” Was that what kept coming between her and God—fear? Fear that she couldn’t cut it any longer, that her courage was gone for good, that she’d let someone else die—
Now it was her hands that clasped tightly enough to hurt. And she felt Ken’s gaze on her, noticing, probing. Deliberately she relaxed her hands, not looking at him.
Pastor Gabriel asked for prayer requests as he ended the session. Several people mentioned concerns. She pulled out her notebook to jot them down so that she could continue to pray during the week.
Holly, voice lilting, asked for prayers of thanksgiving for Ken’s safe return. Then she turned toward Ken, as if inviting him to share a request as well.
He wasn’t going to. Julianna knew it and thought it strange that Holly didn’t. His bitterness washed over her in a wave, so strong that it almost obliterated Pastor Gabriel’s voice, raised in prayer.
When the prayers were over, people pressed around them again—to see Ken and Holly, not her. She picked up her coat and began to edge her way along the row of chairs. But before she could gain freedom, Holly linked her arm with Julianna’s, immobilizing her there at her side.
“It’s just been so nice to see all of you, but we really have to get going.” Holly beamed impartially at everyone. “See you Sunday.”
She hooked her other arm with Ken’s, leading them toward the door. The three of them stepped out into the cool, misty darkness.
“Rain coming,” Ken said, with the authority of one to whom the weather was an important consideration. “I think the little mother should get home.”
“Not yet,” Holly said. “Let’s go out for coffee. Jake’s working late tonight, and I don’t want to go home to an empty house.”
Somehow Julianna didn’t think that was Holly’s only reason, but she couldn’t find the words to refuse. Holly, chattering enough for all of them, didn’t give either of them time to object as she piloted them out the walk to the street.
A few minutes later, the three of them were ensconced in a cozy booth at the coffee shop on the corner. The rain Ken predicted had be
gun to streak the plate-glass window, and the place was empty except for them and an absorbed-in-each-other couple in the back booth.
Holly beamed at them once they’d ordered their coffee. “This is so nice—going out with two of my favorite people.”
Ken eyed her warily. “I’m glad you’re happy, Hol. But you didn’t need to finagle me into going to Bible study in order to spend some time with me.”
“I didn’t. I’m just so thankful you’re still with us that I have to praise God for it about every minute-and-a-half.” Tears made her eyes brilliant. “You can’t blame me for that, can you?”
“I guess not.” Ken frowned. “But you know, Holly—”
Holly glanced at her watch. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t realize how late it was. I’ve got to get home.” She slid out of the booth before they could react. She divided her smile between them. “You stay, have coffee, talk. We’ll get together again soon.”
She whirled, her jacket flaring, and hurried out.
For a moment Julianna couldn’t speak. What was Holly thinking? Ken stared after his sister, a bemused expression on his face. Finally he shrugged, smiling a little.
“I’m sorry.”
She blinked. “For what?”
“My sister, the matchmaker.” He shook his head. “She can’t seem to help it. She’s happily married, she’s having a baby and she’s busy trying to match everyone else up in pairs, too.”
“The Noah’s Ark syndrome,” Julianna suggested.
“Something like that.” He sobered. “She doesn’t realize—” He stopped, and she couldn’t guess what he was thinking. “Well, that everyone isn’t ready for that.”
“I guess not.” She stared down at the coffee she was stirring, not wanting to look at him.
“I hope it didn’t embarrass you.”
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Of course not. Why would it?”
His brown eyes were filled with nothing but kindness. “After what happened between us back when we were in high school, I thought it might. I’m sure Holly didn’t think about that.”
She managed a smile. “She didn’t, and I didn’t either. It was a long time ago.” Liar, her mind whispered to her. You’ve been thinking of it too often since Ken’s return.
“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t apologize for acting like a jerk.”
“I barely remember it, but I’m sure you didn’t do anything of the kind.” Please, don’t let him read anything in my voice. “Just forget it.”
“Okay.” He spread his hands, as if to show they were empty. Strong hands, with a barely healed scar across the back of the right one. “It’s gone. Tell me about you. I want to hear all about this search-and-rescue work of yours.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Ken seemed determined to bring up every painful subject he could tonight. “Angel and I have been working together for several years. She’s really the hero, not me.”
“Quinn said you’d worked all over the place.”
“That might be a slight exaggeration. We go wherever FEMA sends us. Usually we don’t stay more than ten days at a time on a job—after all, we’re all volunteers.”
“Must be a tough ten days, going to where there’s such devastation.”
“Yes.” The word came out short, because the images were drawing closer. “What about you? You must have had some exciting adventures in the military.”
She knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words were out of her mouth, but she’d been desperate to turn the conversation away from her own pain. His face tightened, and he stared down at the scarred tabletop.
“Some.”
Silence stretched between them, colored with pain. Frustration. Bitterness.
Poor Holly. She thought she was doing a good thing, trying to bring her friend and her brother together. She didn’t realize the truth.
The truth was that she and Ken were both fighting something that could very well beat them. She didn’t know what it was for Ken, except that it had something to do with his crash. She knew what it was for her, but she didn’t know what to do about it.
That was what Holly didn’t understand. Neither she nor Ken was ready for matchmaking. She didn’t know about him, but maybe she never would be.
TWO
“Okay, come on. One more time.” Julianna gave an encouraging smile to the new volunteer who was trying to master searching the debris field. They’d stayed on after the team drill for some private practice.
“It’s no good.” The young woman shook her head, wiping her face with a muddy hand. “I can’t get Queenie to cooperate.”
“Queenie’s doing fine.” Julianna patted the golden retriever’s head. “She’s depending on you for direction, Lisa. You just have to make it clear what you want. One more time, and then we’ll quit for the day.”
Jay Nieto, leaning against a pile of lumber, sighed elaborately, and Julianna shot him a reproving look. She was paying the teenager to assist her with the drill not because she needed help, but because Jay, like so many young teens, needed something to keep him off the streets.
“Okay.” Lisa straightened. “One more time.”
Jay, who’d been playing the role of victim, crisscrossed the muddy lot, moving between and over the debris piles. Then he ducked inside one of the concrete pipes and pulled a piece of plywood over the entrance.
Lisa waited a moment, watching Julianna. At her nod, she gave the order to Queenie. The two of them started across the field, Queenie’s plumy tail waving.
“Are they having problems?” Ken spoke for the first time, but she’d been aware of him, standing and watching, for the past hour.
Too aware. It had made her jittery, that steady gaze, and maybe the dogs had picked up on her feelings.
“Not really. Lisa’s a fairly recent volunteer, so she and Queenie don’t have much search experience. But they’ll work it out.”
She nodded, satisfied, as Queenie lifted her head and sniffed, then gave a soft woof.
“There, she’s got it now. Search-and-rescue dogs have to be able to pick up the scent from the air.”
“Angel looks as if she’s thinking she could do it better.” He bent to pat her dog.
“Angel always thinks that.” The dog looked up at the sound of her name, tail wagging.
Queenie had reached the pipe now. She pawed at the board Jay had pulled across the entrance, barking furiously. Lisa joined them and the two of them “discovered” Jay, who climbed out with a bored look.
“Good job, Lisa,” Julianna called. “Reward her now.”
Lisa, hugging Queenie, responded with a brilliant smile.
“You were right to push her to try once more,” Ken observed. “You never want to end a training session on a failure if you can help it.”
“I try. Sometimes it’s a tough call, but I knew they could do it if they just got out of each other’s way. They have a long way to go, but they have the right stuff.”
His smile flickered. “I usually hear that expression about pilots, but I guess it applies. How long will their training take?”
“Two years, if Lisa wants FEMA certification. I’m pushing her to do that. We don’t have nearly enough trained teams available.”
He whistled softly. “I had no idea there was so much to it. If it’s volunteer work, who pays?”
“The volunteer.” That was what most people didn’t understand. “Hours and hours and hours of work, and plenty of money for materials. We’re only paid when we’re actually deployed.”
“You have to be dedicated, don’t you?”
She thought she detected admiration in the glance he sent her way and hoped she wasn’t blushing. “We’re always scrambling to find places to train that won’t cost us. That’s why it’s so good of Quinn to let us train here.”
“Well, the Montgomerys and Vances owe you. We learned firsthand the value of what you do when you found my brother and his girlfriend in that mine collapse at the ranch.”
&nbs
p; She ducked her head at the implied compliment. At least they were talking easily to each other now. After the way things had gone at the coffee shop a few nights ago, it was more than she’d hoped for.
Lisa came up to her then, and she was distracted from Ken’s presence for a few minutes while she gave the young woman some suggestions for their next practice. When she turned back, she found Jay Nieto looking up at Ken with something akin to worship in his eyes.
“Did you two introduce yourselves?” she asked.
“Are you kidding?” Jay had lost the bored expression that was becoming habitual. “I know who he is. Major Kenneth Vance. He’s an Air Force pilot.”
The aliveness in Jay’s eyes startled her. It was the most interest he’d displayed in anything other than the gang of older kids he kept trying to impress.
That gang and their leader, Theo Crale, was the main reason she’d taken an interest in the boy. If she could keep Jay out of a street gang and keep him in school, he might have a decent future. Given Jay’s unexpected enthusiasm, Ken’s presence could be an incentive to keep Jay interested in working for her.
“That’s right,” she said. “He’s helping out here while he’s home on leave. Ken, this is Jay Nieto. He’s been giving me a hand with the training.”
“Nice to meet you, Jay.” Ken held out his hand and Jay took it, color deepening in his thin cheeks.
“You graduated from the Air Force Academy, didn’t you? There was a piece in the paper about you when—” He stopped, obviously embarrassed at having made reference to Ken being shot down.
“That’s right.” Ken’s smile was a bit strained, but probably Jay didn’t notice. “Are you interested in going to the Academy, Jay?”
Jay’s face turned wooden, and he shrugged, his gaze dropping to his sneakers.
She knew that look. She should. It was one she’d worn often enough when she was a teenager, afraid to reach for what she wanted.
“Jay, it’s okay to dream big,” she said gently.