Alexa gestured toward Cole, who had placed the flowers behind the altar. “Can’t your assistant do it?”
“My assistant?” Megan processed Alexa’s request. “Cole?”
“Yeah. I mean, how hard is it? I just have to walk down the aisle. You’ve already done most of the hard stuff.” She looked back at Megan. “Please?”
Right. All the hard stuff was already done. Every bride probably thought that until the day of her wedding. “No, he’s not—”
“Do what?” Cole stood back to look at the flowers, then shifted the vase to center it.
Megan turned from the bride’s expectant gaze toward Cole. He’d adjusted the flowers like it was an ordinary thing for him to do.
Alexa was about the last on the list of easy brides, but, maybe? Just maybe. “One moment.” She lifted a finger to Alexa then turned to Cole. “I need to talk to you.”
Confusion creased his brow. “Yes, ma’am.”
She led him out the back of the sanctuary and down the hall a short way before turning to face him. She crossed her arms, hoping he wouldn’t see her hands shaking. “How would you like a job? Okay, not a job—I can’t pay you.” She grimaced. “I need your help.”
“What kind of help?”
“I need an assistant to pull off a second wedding Monday night.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Like, as a wedding coordinator?” He paused, skepticism in his eyes.
She made a face, nodded.
“Oh, no. No.” He held up his hand. “Megan. I’m not a frilly stuff kind of guy.”
And maybe it was his immediate dismissal that irked her. Not that she had a right to demand his help, but…he was trying to uproot her entire life. She schooled her voice. “It’s not hard, Ranger. You’ve jumped out of planes, right? Planned assaults?”
He stared at her, his eyes wide. “I don’t think that should be used against me.”
“Okay, look at it this way. You want me out of the apartment. I need to procure the Black Spruce—and we can’t move toward either goal without this wedding happening.” She paused, letting her words hit their mark.
By his expression, she had his attention. “I’m already booked. This one is set up—on the wedding day, there isn’t that much to do. You just make sure everyone and everything is where it needs to be when it needs to be there.” Not exactly true—especially with a bride like Alexa. But Megan did have all her i’s dotted. This could be easy.
“I really don’t think I’m cut out for wedding coordination.”
She gave him a look. “You can sneak into enemy territory and take out a target, and yet you can’t tell a groom where to stand his ground and the bride when to deploy?”
He drew his brows together and shook his head. “What are we talking about here? Give me the specifics.”
The tone of her voice rose an octave toward desperate. “I’ll have it all decorated. You just make sure everyone walks down the aisle at the right time. I’ll take care of all the arrangements. I just need someone to be here. I’ll go to my wedding at the Art Colony. Make sure the caterer is set up. Then I’ll come back here and help Alexa get dressed. And then, I’ll need to run back over to the Art Colony to ensure the musicians are set and have everything they need and get the ceremony underway. But I need someone here when I’m gone. Someone to be my eyes and ears.”
He leaned against the wall, his shoulders dropping. “So, I just need to hang out and make sure things keep moving along? We’d call that overwatch.”
“Yes.” She tried to give him an encouraging smile. “It can’t be that different from running an op, right? You have a plan, you execute the plan. You have contingencies and if something comes up, you utilize the contingency plan—but the mission objective remains.” See? She could speak his language.
“A wedding and an op are hardly the same thing.”
“You can do this, Ranger. I just need you to show up.”
She braced herself for his answer, fighting the reminder kicking around in her mind. No one ever showed up for her.
“This will help you get moved out sooner than later?” He scrubbed at his whiskers, looking down at her with those blue eyes. The ones that felt like they could see right through her. See all her heart laid bare. Every loss. Every unspoken dream.
“Yes.” She hoped it wasn’t a bluff. Hoped he wouldn’t call her on it.
“Okay. Yes, I’ll do it.” He held up a finger. “But you’d better not put any pictures of me on the internet.”
“Really?” She tried to keep the surprise from her voice.
“Yes—but I’m serious. No social media. The last thing I need is for the guys to see me toting flowers and cakes and whatever else around.”
She held up her right hand. “I do so solemnly swear to hold your reputation as an Army Ranger in highest regard.”
“I said I was serious.” He tilted his head, pinched his lips together.
“Fine. No social media.”
Cole gave her a slow nod, not a little apprehension in his eyes. “Okay.”
“Thank you. I’d better let Alexa know we can do it so we can get started rescheduling everyone.”
Casper approached from the back of the church and hung up his phone. “They finally got two plows through to clear the main roads. The linemen are on their way to start repairs.” His gaze went to Megan, back to Cole. “Do you have time to help me clear the lot here again?”
“Sure.” He let out a long breath. “So, we’ll have to catch up later to discuss everything?”
“Yeah. That would be good.”
Cole disappeared with Casper, and Megan punched in Claire’s phone number.
“Hey—we have a change of plans due to the weather. Will these flowers last until Monday?”
“Sure, I’ll swing by to pick them up and get them back into refrigeration. I might have to swap out a few of the more delicate blooms, but that’s no problem.”
“You’re a rock star. Thank you.”
Alexa took the news with elated squeals. “You are the best. I can’t believe I have to wait to get married, but thank you for making it work.”
Megan hoped they could actually pull it off.
They spent the next hour at the church, calling every guest, vendor, and bridal party member to update them on the change from Saturday to Monday. Each one had graciously agreed, relieved that they didn’t have to try to venture out for the event or face cancelling their participation. Megan disconnected her last call.
“Whew. Glad that’s done.”
Alexa nodded. “Me too. I’m going to head back to my parents’ place and get some sleep. I was up all night worrying about it and watching the snow pile up. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Sounds good.” Megan headed back down the hall toward the church office. Josh came running through the front doors, ruddy cheeks and watering eyes. “Mom! You have to come see the snow tunnel I built. Cole pushed a ton of snow into a pile and it’s perfect.”
She tugged her gloves on and followed him outside. Cole stood triumphant at the top of a snow berm, arms stretched high in the air, his knit hat coated in snowflakes.
What in the world?
A snowball shattered across the front of her coat.
What? An ambush. And her own son had used himself as bait.
She scooped up a handful of snow, pressing it into a tight ball and lobbing it toward the mountain of snow and the pink-cheeked Cole. It fell short and she ducked down to grab another handful.
That’s when she saw Josh’s allegiance. He climbed the mountain of snow behind Cole, filling his mittens with snow, mischief in his eyes and a beaming grin on his lips.
It was two against one.
Megan stopped, frozen. Struck still with the realization that asking Cole to help was the biggest mistake she could have made.
She’d invited the enemy into her world. Her private, safe world.
Josh’s snowball hit her square in the face.
Chapter 4
> Cole hadn’t been this sore since Ranger School. Apparently, being on snowplow patrol had its costs.
After spending the first three hours of his Sunday morning clearing the church parking lot with Casper and then piling branches that had snapped from the weight of the snow, Cole was ready for a long winter nap. At least the crews had managed to get the power restored.
He collapsed on the sofa, ready to hibernate when Casper came down dressed for Sunday service and headed into the kitchen.
He returned moments later with two cups of coffee and handed one to Cole before sitting down in the armchair.
“Thanks.” Cole let the cup warm his hands. “So, you said there isn’t a real contingency plan for assistance when there are power outages or weather events? That seems a bit…disorganized—no offense—but, I mean, what if there’d been an emergency? What if we were dealing with a critical injury yesterday morning?”
“It’s an issue here.” Casper took a drink. “I think there’s never been anyone with the capacity and skills to spearhead putting it all together—all the different crews, the volunteers available, the training, the equipment.” He raised a brow. “Does that offend your Ranger sensibilities?”
Cole rubbed his jaw. “It kind of does. What about other emergency services? Search and rescue? Water rescue?”
“I wish I could tell you we’ve got it all covered. We don’t. We’re a small town on the edge of a lot of wilderness.”
“It’s hard to imagine leaving all that to chance and luck.”
Casper nodded. “There’ve been a few close calls.” He set his mug down.
The words settled over Cole. But Deep Haven wasn’t his problem.
Still, he couldn’t help himself. “The town really needs a specialized team. The snowplows are one thing, but they’re just one piece of the puzzle. Emergencies happen year-round.”
“I agree. We had a forest fire years ago—destroyed the cabins at Evergreen. Something as basic as evacuation notifications were challenging.”
Cole chewed the inside of his cheek. Nope. Not his problem.
“You heading to the service?” Casper broke the silence that had fallen over them.
Cole shook his head. No way. He needed to steer clear of Miss Megan Carter, who was sure to be front and center this morning. What was he thinking, getting into a snowball fight with her? And why did he feel like he’d done something wrong?
Maybe the way she called to Josh, demanded they head home, a little edge to her voice. Barely mumbling goodbye. And he should know better because Rebecca had taught him the fickle nature of a woman. That any woman—even, or maybe especially, a Christian woman—couldn’t be trusted with his heart.
Not that his heart was at risk. No, not at all. So what that when she smiled, it unraveled him a bit. So what that when she stood close to him, the smell of roses made him want to lean in to it. So what that when she called him Ranger with a soft, husky tease in her voice, it gave a little tug on his heart.
Nope, no risk at all.
Casper pressed his lips together and gave him a nod. “Are you going to stop by and see your grandfather?”
Again, “No, sir.”
Casper gave him a look.
Cole shook his head. “I can’t.”
Casper leaned forward, looked down into his clasped hands. “My dad once told me I was my own worst enemy.”
Cole frowned. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I know things were hard after your parents died. I saw how your grandpa changed, even as kids. We all could tell.” Casper glanced up the stairs and then leaned in, lowered his voice and met Cole’s eyes. “Listen, I know all about holding on to anger. Trust me—when I found out what Owen had done—” He paused, as if sorting out his next words. “Layla is my daughter, but biologically, she’s Owen’s.”
Owen? Casper’s younger brother? He blinked hard, trying to suppress his real reaction. Not the direction he’d expected the conversation to go. Cole swallowed. Waited.
“It was before we’d met. A mistake on both sides. And it took a lot for me to get through it. Really, it took God for me—and Raina—to get through it. To even heal my relationship with Owen. But because we did, Raina and Layla and I have an incredible life together. I would have missed all the blessings God had for me if I’d held on to my anger, no matter how I justified it. No matter how righteous I felt.”
Cole set down his cup. God didn’t have any blessings for him. He’d allowed his parents to die, sending Cole to his grandpa’s. Everything had spiraled wrong from there. But he’d pulled his life together by himself. Joined the Army. Found his place. And he’d keep doing exactly that with the U.S. Marshals Service. He didn’t need help getting through it because he’d planned on keeping it far behind him.
“I know it’s hard.” And the earnest tone in Casper’s voice said maybe he really did know how hard it would be. “But it’s possible.”
Layla scampered down the stairs and tackled Casper from behind. “I’m ready, Daddy.” She wore a pink dress with tights, and she kicked her fluffy boots in the air.
Raina came down the stairs shortly after. “I tried to get her to opt for something a little warmer, but she insisted the pink dress is what a stylish kindergartner would wear.”
“Then we’d better bundle you up because let me tell you, there’s a lot of snow out there and it’s still coming down.”
They stood at the door and snugged on their coats. Casper put his hand on the doorknob. “We’ll see you later.” He paused. “Really, though, please think about what I said.”
Cole shrugged. “Sure. I’ll think about it. Thanks.”
Casper gave him a nod and they headed out the door to the sounds of Layla’s small voice describing exactly how many snow angels she thought she’d make after church.
Despite his best attempts to ignore them, Casper’s words gnawed at Cole for another hour before he grabbed his coat and headed over to Lighthouse Memory Care. Fine. He’d check it off the list and, besides, sitting around wasn’t his M.O. It certainly wasn’t going to heal the wounds of the past, but maybe the visit would distract him from the fact that he still had to survive a wedding with Megan and make his grandfather’s house marketable.
The care center sat on Fifth Avenue, the exterior a dull gray that blended in with the colorless sky. Tired and forgotten.
The door buzzed open and Cole entered the care facility. The sharp smell of disinfectant permeated the air and a flush of heat stifled the corridor. The building was set up with a central entrance at the front and the reception and nurse’s station acted as a hub where three hallways converged, like spokes on a half-wheel.
An older woman stood at the reception desk, her expectant gaze on him.
This was a mistake. Cole turned to catch the door before it latched.
“May I help you?”
He paused. Took a breath. “I’m here to look in on Edgar Barrett.” The door clanked closed behind him.
“Are you family?”
The dryness in his mouth made it hard to speak. “Yes, ma’am.”
She lifted a brow at him.
“I’m his—I’m his grandson.”
“Well, okay.” The woman shuffled through a file drawer and withdrew a manila folder. “Here it is. I’ll need to see photo identification.”
Cole handed her his license and she began clicking away on her keyboard.
“Hmm,” she said, looking up at him.
“Is there a problem?”
“There’s a note here in the system. One moment. I’ll need to have his case manager speak with you.” She disappeared into an office behind her and then re-emerged. “Miss Chase is available now, Mr. Barrett. Come on back.”
This couldn’t be good.
The office was painted bright white with pale green accents, and the woman behind the desk looked younger than Cole. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore a purple blouse with snowmen all over it. Something lighthearted.
/>
“Mr. Barrett, I’m glad you stopped by. I didn’t have a phone number on record for you.” She extended her hand. “I’m Camilla Chase, your grandfather’s case manager. We’re short-handed on the administrative side, so I’m trying to assist with some of the financials and billing, too.”
He shook her hand, and despite every instinct telling him to back away and find safer ground, he took the seat she offered.
She picked up the file. “The February billing went out yesterday. Your grandfather has some benefits through the end of January that insurance will afford him due to his injury. The church paid for an additional thirty days, but after that, he’ll have to be transferred to a VA facility in Duluth unless there’s funding to pay directly for his care.”
“Insurance doesn’t cover it?”
“He doesn’t have extended coverage for memory care. It simply isn’t covered by regular policies. And after his hip fracture, I really think this is the best place for him.”
“I don’t know anything about a hip fracture.”
“In December he had a fall. He’s been doing rehab here, which is why he currently has coverage. We have a physical therapist on staff and it’s considered acute care.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Can I add your information to our system?”
Cole gave her his contact information and she began typing.
“This is your first time seeing him in a while?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How long has it been?”
“About fifteen years.”
“I see.” She blinked. “Do you have experience with Alzheimer’s?”
“No.” He darted another look at the door.
She stopped typing, turned to him. Her voice softened. “Dealing with Alzheimer’s can be difficult for both the patient and family. Their reality in the moment is their reality, and nothing you can say will cause them to think the way you or I would.”
Cole nodded, and he planted himself, refusing to bolt. But man, the door called.
“We ask visitors not to argue, correct, or try to reason with patients. You can distract them, redirect, and even reminisce. Patients sometimes live in a past time of their life and that’s what we see most often with your grandfather.” She handed him a care guide brochure. “Mr. Barrett, your grandfather has only had two lucid moments in the past four months.”
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