Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Holiday Homecoming

Holiday Homecoming
Jillian Hart
She was supposed to be home in Montana for Thanksgiving, but Kristin McKaslin was stranded at the Boise airport–in a snowstorm. There was no hope. Then, out of nowhere, a car pulled up. It was Ryan Sanders, the charming football player she'd barely known in high school. He was going home, too.Kristin's girl-next-door beauty had always stayed with Ryan, and she'd turned into an incredible woman. But he thought he loved another. So what was that hard knot doing in his gut when their all-night drive was over? Why didn't he want to see her go?Suddenly Ryan suspected the Lord might have more in mind than just a drive….



“Kristin McKaslin, is that you?”
Kristin studied the man who sank into the empty seat across the aisle. He was good-looking, with disheveled black hair and eyes a sharp aquamarine-blue. The straight blade of a nose, high cheekbones, a simple cut into his chin.
Nope, she didn’t know him, but there was something familiar about him. She didn’t know him from work. Or the gym. Or church. Either in Seattle or Montana… Wait. There was something distinctive about that devastating smile. Those dimples, and that strong jaw.
Then she knew. She saw a flash of a boyish face with longer black hair standing before the podium at a high school assembly. The image of a leaner, younger star running back, whipping off his helmet after the final touchdown of the state championship. The studious salutatorian-to-be ambling down the hall and stopping to open the door to physics class for her.
“Ryan Sanders?” She couldn’t believe it.

JILLIAN HART
makes her home in Washington State, where she has lived most of her life. When Jillian is not hard at work on her next story, she loves to read, go to lunch with her friends and spend quiet evenings with her family.

Holiday Homecoming
Jillian Hart


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
These are the things that will endure—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.
—1 Corinthians 13:13
Dear Reader,
All of her four sisters have discovered true love, and now it’s Kristin’s turn. I hope that you will be reminded, through this story, of how truly precious God’s blessings are. That this earthly life may not be an easy one, but it is a beautiful gift. But Kristin’s is not the final McKaslin story! The McKaslin cousins are about to find their happily-ever-afters. In April 2005, please watch for Amy’s story, Sweet Blessings, which shows how real love happens, even when a person has given up all hope.
I wish you the sweetest of all blessings,



Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue

Chapter One
November 23
Disaster.
Kristin McKaslin took one look at the snow-caked airplane window and groaned. She was doomed. That window had been only a little bit icy less than twenty minutes ago, when she’d looked up from her work. Now she couldn’t see through it, not that there was anything to see at this altitude and with the plane swinging in the turbulence.
At least it gave her something to think about other than heading home to Montana. Thanksgiving was tomorrow, and that was both good and bad. She loved her sisters. She loved her parents. She loved going home to visit.
What she wasn’t looking forward to was facing her mother’s disappointments. She lived too far away. She didn’t come home to visit enough. She wasn’t married. And she wasn’t married. Mom was doubly unhappy about that one.
Just because she wasn’t married, it didn’t mean she was a failure, right?
Right. So, why did it feel that way? And why was it such a big deal? A marriage certificate came with no guarantees, and as far as she could tell, it didn’t protect a person against heartbreak, disappointment and loneliness.
It wasn’t as if Mom and Dad were ecstatic in their nearly forty years of marriage. But it wasn’t as if she could say that to Mom. She hated pretending, as if nothing had changed in their family, when everything had.
That was the real reason she didn’t want to walk through the front door of her childhood home. It was too painful to think about.
“Kristin McKaslin, is that you?”
She studied the well-dressed man who sank into the empty seat across the aisle. He was good-looking with disheveled black hair and eyes a sharp aquamarine blue. He had a straight blade of a nose, high cheekbones and dimples cut into his cheeks. He was dressed in a casual outfit that shouted, “Money!”
Nope, she didn’t know him, but wait, there was something familiar about him. But what?
She didn’t know him from work, the gym or church—either in Seattle or in Montana. Still, there was something distinctive about that devastating smile, those dimples…and that strong jaw.
Of course! She saw a flash of a boyish face with longer black hair standing before the podium at a high-school assembly. The image of a leaner, younger star running back whipping off his helmet after the final touchdown for the state championship. The caustic face of her mom’s best friend’s son, who wanted to be anywhere but stuck waiting in the car while their mothers talked on the sidewalk in town.
“Ryan Sanders?” She couldn’t believe it. She blinked, and the remembered youthful image of his face blended with the older, wiser one staring back at her across the aisle. “It is you.”
“The one and only. I look different, I know, everybody says so. I went and got respectable.”
“You were always respectable.”
“Nope, I wasn’t. You’re just being nice.” His cute lopsided grin had matured into a slow curve of a smile. “You look better, but the same. Still have your nose in a book.”
“Guilty. I confess.”
Those blue eyes, which could have been cold, sparkled. “That’s how I recognized you.”
“I’m surprised you could see me over the seats. I’m still short.”
“The word is ‘petite.’ I was bored and people-watching and I could see your profile from way back there. I got the last seat on the plane I think.”
“Waited until the last minute?”
“I didn’t think I’d be flying out of Seattle. Hey, you cut your hair. It was always long. Hiding your face. It still does, even short.” He reached across the aisle to touch the curled end of her chin-length hair.
She felt a jolt, like the snap of static shock, as the lock of hair rebounded against her jaw. What was that? And should she act as if she hadn’t felt it? “Your hair’s shorter, too.”
“It goes with my more reputable image.” He shrugged one dependable shoulder.
Yeah, he looked reputable, all right, decked out in a loose-knit black sweater that hugged the lean curves of his muscled shoulders and chest. Black trousers, crisply pleated, completed the image.
He could be a corporate heavyweight, with a stuffy MBA and an impressive portfolio. Except for the black boots, scuffed and rugged, showing there was still a part of the Montana boy in the polished, educated man.
He raked his hand through his short, unruly black locks and leaned into the corner of the seat. A big powerful man, sprawled out like a kid, his large feet crossed at the ankles in the aisle.
“So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing with a laptop and a book at—” he glanced at the gold flash of his Rolex “—9:07 at night?”
“Working.”
“Yeah? I remembered you were studious in high school. What did the valedictorian of Valley High grow up to be?”
“An advertising executive.”
“Well done. You live in Seattle?”
“I do. Not a hard guess, since the flight originated there. You, too?”
“Nope, just up checking out a job offer.” Less comfortable talking about that, he hauled his feet in from the aisle and sat up straight. Too late to change the subject. It wasn’t pretty Kristin McKaslin’s fault his life was messed up.
Okay, it wasn’t a mess yet, but it wasn’t the fit he wanted, either. He’d become a successful doctor. It just didn’t feel right to him. And after the breakup with Francine—
“Wow, a job offer.” Kristin was even prettier when she smiled. “Who in their right mind would hire you?”
“Right. I’m suspicious of their offer right up front.” They’d been good people, that’s what. Professional, smart, with a good, positive focus. Not at all like the profit-oriented outfit he was stuck with in Scottsdale. “What kind of dudes are they, if they want me to join up with ’em?”
“Smart ones. Are you gonna go for it?”
A loaded question, but his problems weren’t Kristin’s, so he’d leave out the personal stuff. “Not sure about what I’m gonna do. I’m looking for a change. I have a great practice, but Phoenix is a little hot for me in the summers. Still, I suppose that’s why air-conditioning was invented.”
“Your practice? Oh, wait. I remember something about you getting into medical school long ago. Knowing you, that couldn’t be true.”
“Hard to believe they actually took a no-account like me.”
“For a jock, you weren’t too dumb. Guess how hard I had to study to beat your GPA?”
“Hard? Good, cuz I worked my toes off and I couldn’t get half as many one hundred percents as you did.”
She sparkled, but not in the way of women who realized he was a single man and a doctor. No, she was quiet class, all the way from her polished brown loafers to the carefully folded neck of her sort-of-brown turtleneck. Warm, though, not stuffy.
Her voice was soft elegance. “What kind of doctor are you?”
“An orthopedic surgeon.”
“Sure, you have the ego for it.”
“Hey, I don’t deserve that. Okay, maybe I do. But I like helping people. Fixing their blown-out knees and torn ankles. What about you? An advertising exec, huh? Does that mean you’re a big shot in the advertising world?”
“Yeah, right. I make sure the agency runs without a hitch. It’s a good job but not very glamorous.”
“I can see you, diligent and kind and handling everything just right.”
“Same old Ryan, charming and full of it. Some things never change.”
“Don’t they? Back in school you were too high and mighty for me.”
“High and mighty?”
“One of the perfect McKaslin girls.”
“Perfect, my foot! Good grief, I’m a mess. A walking disaster.”
“Yeah, uh-huh. You sure look like it.” He rolled his eyes to emphasize his point. Ryan didn’t think there could be a nicer family of women on the planet.
Part of the McKaslin genes, he figured. With Kristin, there was no mistaking her girl-next-door freshness, even in her power suit.
What kind of executive did she make? One who said please and thank-you, was his guess, and it clashed with the ice-princess high-end designer jacket, sweater and slacks she wore.
Maybe he’d lived in a big city for too long. Whoa—that thought was something his mom would say. Not for the first time tonight he wished he’d paid for his mom to come down for Thanksgiving. Montana came with too many lessons learned. Lessons that haunted him to this day.
“It’s weird seeing you like this. On the same plane heading home.” It blew his mind, that’s what, because he didn’t believe in coincidences. All things happened for a reason.
“I haven’t seen you since, what, high school?”
“When I left for college, I left for good. I keep trying to lure Mom to Phoenix, but she won’t do it. She calls every Sunday afternoon, after church. To make sure I’ve gone to worship like a good son.”
“Good. You need someone to keep you in line. I’ve lost track of nearly everyone. It’s weird how in school we had all the time in the world, our future ahead of us, and now that we’re in the middle of those futures, there’s no time at all.”
“Exactly. Now I put in long hours. I’ve got no time.”
“What? You’re a doctor. Why are you working long days? Don’t you people golf on Tuesdays and Fridays?”
“Some do. I have school loans to make good on, and the balance is higher than most people’s mortgages.”
“Ouch. I’m glad I worked my way through school.”
He crooked a doubtful eyebrow. “Worked? Didn’t you get the only four-year scholarship in our graduating class?”
“Yeah, but that was for tuition. I had a part-time job in the university library on the weekends, and I worked during the summers.”
“I was volunteering in clinics and did a year in the Peace Corps so I had a better shot at med school.”
“I’ve heard medical school isn’t all that competitive.”
That made him laugh. “Yeah. I spent a year in the Dominican Republic assisting a physician. That year did more to make a man of me than anything. I hope it made me a much better doctor.”
“I can’t imagine you’re a bad one. Arrogant, maybe.”
“Hey!” He laughed with her. He liked her, he couldn’t help it. But seeing her reminded him of a time in his life that was complicated. “It’s good to see you. I’m glad you’re doing well.”
“You, too.” Kristin closed the laptop and focused her full attention on Ryan Sanders. Dr. Ryan Sanders. That was going to take some getting used to. She could still see the spirited young boy inside the responsible man.
Not that she was interested. So she’d noticed that his left hand was suntanned and ringless. He’d made the effort of renewing their acquaintance. He’d been so complimentary and friendly. Why was she even thinking in this direction?
Doom. Disaster. She’d never wanted a relationship. She would never lean on a man. She was fine all by herself, even if that got lonely sometimes.
“Here comes the beverage cart. I’d better get back to my seat now or I’ll be trapped here.” He rose, all six feet plus of him, filling the aisle. “Maybe I’ll see you around town?”
“Maybe. If I see you on the sidewalk, I won’t run in the opposite direction.”
“Deal. I’ll try not to run into a store and hide from ya.”
And he was gone, ambling down the aisle.
Ryan Sanders. He filled her thoughts as she opened the three-ring binder and flipped up the laptop’s screen. Imagine that, running into him. Had she even heard much about Ryan over the years?
No, just comments from Mom now and then on how Mary’s son had straightened out his life. Finally. And how Mary was lonely for him.
Wasn’t loneliness an integral part of life? Troubled, Kristin tried to concentrate on the Myers budget and couldn’t. The numbers on the screen fuzzed, and she rubbed her tired eyes.
Father, I don’t want to go home. Guilt warred with the other emotions coiling up in her stomach. What do I do?
She couldn’t disappoint her mom. Mom had been pressuring her since Labor Day, to make sure Kristin would come home. What did you do when home was no longer a refuge? A place that hurt instead of sheltered?
A sharp pain slashed like a razor in her stomach and had her digging through her bag for the roll of antacids she ate like candy. She loved her parents. She loved her sisters.
But all her girlhood illusions of family had died along with Allison. Time had not mended the broken places in her heart or in her family.
How could she go home and pretend nothing was wrong?
She wanted to see her sisters. Hold her newest niece, Anna, who’d been born in late summer. Gramma would be there. She wanted to see her parents.
If only there was a way to come home without the pain and sadness…
The plane dipped sharply to the left, and fear shattered her thoughts. She gripped the armrest. Was her heart really beating that fast? She took a deep breath, her chest pounding. What was wrong? She hated flying. Absolutely hated it.
What if it was engine trouble? Ice had crusted over the little window next to her. What if there was a problem with ice or something? She tried not to think of horror stories of air disasters. This was how Allison had died, in a plane crash in bad weather.
“Attention, passengers, this is your captain speaking.”
Kristin’s ears popped. Were they losing altitude? Before she could unscramble her thoughts to pray, the pilot continued speaking. “There’s a blizzard in Missoula so we’re diverting to Boise International.”
A blizzard? That was all? They weren’t going to crash? Relief slid through her like ice water. Thank you, Lord. She clutched the small cross at her neck. That was the good news, but a blizzard? What blizzard?
Sure, it was snowing, but the weatherpeople had promised the snow would be light. Okay, so it wouldn’t be the first time a weatherman was wrong, and this was Montana. Extreme weather happened. But Boise?
Going home might not be the easiest thing, but she missed her sisters. She didn’t want to spend Thanksgiving alone.
See? She would have been better off driving, with snow forecasted or not! There was that Murphy’s Law in effect again. Whatever would turn out worse, she had a habit of picking it.
This will work out for the best. She took a deep breath, willed her tensed muscles to unclench just a little. Right, Lord?
Right. Everything happened as it was meant to be. So this was simply a safer route than if she’d driven over the pass and right into the blizzard. By going to Boise, they were going around the storm. It made sense.
She’d just catch a flight when she got to Boise. Surely there would be a few vacant seats somewhere on a late-night flight to Bozeman.
And if not, she’d just rent a car and drive. The blizzard was in the other direction, right?
Thanksgiving
Wrong. The flights had been canceled. The Boise airport was closing down due to the rapidly approaching surprise storm. The blizzard was bringing dangerous conditions to half the cities in northern Idaho and to all of midwestern Montana.
Great. And if that wasn’t bad enough, there wasn’t a car left to rent in all of Boise. Kristin ought to know. She’d called every place that would answer their phone at 12:06 on Thanksgiving morning.
There were no hotel vacancies, no motel vacancies and the local bed-and-breakfasts weren’t picking up.
Definitely a problem. Kristin buttoned her coat and stared at her reflection in the black windows of the airport terminal. What was she going to do? Fat chunks of snow floated to the white ground on the other side of the glass where a single taxi waited along a vacant curb.
No passengers rushed from baggage claim or hurried to make that last-minute flight. She was practically alone and the security guards were eyeing her suspiciously. The swish of a janitor’s wide mop seemed loud in the echoing silence.
It looked as if she would miss Thanksgiving at home.
No sisters. No baby niece to hug close. No roasted turkey with Gramma’s special stuffing.
On the other hand, she wouldn’t have to face Allison’s empty place at the table.
But not seeing any of her sisters… Her chest ached with sadness. How could she be sad at completely opposite things at once?
So, she’d spend this holiday alone. She lived alone. She spent lots of weekends alone. She was used to it.
Still, loneliness grabbed hard and squeezed. For as much as she dreaded some things, she missed others very much. The way Mom always greeted her at the door, wearing her apron and opening her arms wide for a hug.
The big country kitchen would be warm with the delicious fragrances of roasting turkey and baking bread and desserts set out to cool on the counter.
Her sisters laughing and quibbling while her nieces and nephew toddled around the living room, and everyone turning to shout, “It’s Kristin. Kristin’s here!”
Exhausted from starting work at six o’clock this morning so she could leave early for the airport, she was too tired even to pray. Aching with despair, she buried her face in her hands.

Chapter Two
If that wasn’t a sign from above, Ryan didn’t know what was. He’d stood in line at one car-rental place after another. No rental cars. The passengers had dispersed; he detoured to baggage claim and was stunned to see his suitcase circling. He had the worst luck ever when it came to airport baggage.
Yup, it was a sign. This attempted trip home wasn’t over yet. Okay, he was going to give the rental counters one more try. If there were no cars, then he’d done all he could. It looked as if he wouldn’t be going home for Thanksgiving.
But he couldn’t be that lucky. He was probably the only human being on the continent who was hoping to head away from home.
Of course, there was a last-minute cancellation and an SUV with four-wheel drive just happened to be available—the only car left for rent in the entire city. Providence had spoken. Ryan Sanders was going to spend Thanksgiving with his family. No excuses, no exceptions. He might as well accept it and make the best of it.
It would mean a lot to Mom. That’s what mattered, at least telling himself that gave him enough grit to accept his fate. He loved his mom, he loved his sister, but he didn’t miss Montana. He wanted to put that part of his life away and lock the door tight. Throw the key in a deep well and cover it up. For good. There were some places too painful to go, like the past.
That’s why he believed in going full steam ahead. Why he never looked back. Why he wasn’t thrilled as he loaded up the Jeep and flipped the defroster on high. The Good Lord was making His will pretty clear in spite of the weather. The snowstorm was working up into a blizzard on the other side of the snowy windshield. The wipers couldn’t keep up.
Great, how was he going to see where he was going? Ryan squinted into the dizzying downfall but it didn’t help. He couldn’t read the directional signs through the whiteout conditions. Should he go left or right?
Clueless, he went left. He barely touched the brake and the tires did a little skid on the ice. Talk about dangerous conditions. He was a decent driver, but there was no sense in putting himself or anyone else at risk. A fair amount of his practice was comprised of car-accident victims. He’d done enough rotation time in the E.R. to know what could happen.
Maybe the wisest thing to do was hunt down a hotel room somewhere. Boise was crammed full of stranded travelers who’d booked every available room for the holiday weekend. He knew because he’d spent forty straight minutes on the phone. But maybe there was something available farther down the road, in one of the little towns a few miles north. He’d drive until he found a motel room—he wasn’t picky. He was too tired to drive on icy highways until dawn.
Okay, where had the road gone? It had to be somewhere in front of him. There was a metal post, good thing he didn’t hit it. Wait—a soft glow of light broke through the blizzard.
Perfect. He was headed the wrong way. The snow thinned on the lee side of the terminal as he crept through the empty passenger-loading zone. There was only a lonely taxi waiting alongside the curb with lights blinking. It was quickly being covered by snowfall.
Light from the terminal broke through the downfall to sheen on the road ahead of him and that’s when he saw her in his peripheral vision. Kristin McKaslin in her chic tan coat and designer clothes, sitting with her head in her hands, alone behind the long wall of windows.
She was stranded, too. And all by herself. That just wasn’t right. He eased the vehicle to the curb with a bump. No way was he going to let her sit there. Not when Providence had handed him a four-wheel drive and, like it or not, he was still heading home.
Through the glass, backlit by fluorescent light, he could see her perfectly, with that short golden bob of her hair falling forward as she sat. He could feel her misery.
Yet although she looked every bit the stranded traveler, Kristin McKaslin was still the picture of perfection in her upscale clothes and her every-hair-in-place do.
It must be nice to have a life like hers. He tried not to hold it against her, and the old envy surprised him. It wasn’t exactly envy, but it was close. As a boy growing up, he’d gotten an eyeful of the McKaslins’ storybook life via his mom. He saw the Thomas Kinkade-like coziness of the house she’d grown up in, heard endlessly from Mom how the McKaslin girls never gave their mother any grief the way he did. As a kid, his own inadequacies hurt and he was ashamed of them, so he did his best to cover them up with bravado and stupid recklessness.
He’d grown up, tried hard to be a good man. But some things didn’t change—like the truth in a man’s heart. He’d wanted that life. To live in a warm and roomy house with a whole family, instead of in a cramped, tumbling down house with a widowed mom who worked three jobs to keep food on the table. He’d never been able to come to terms with his father’s death. Or the simple fact that Mom’s life would have been without hardship and he would have grown up differently if his dad had been there.
Maybe—just maybe—his heart would be whole if tragedy hadn’t struck.
Let the past go, man. Sometimes it was the only thing he could do. Instead of reexamining a past he couldn’t fix, it was better just to do the best he could now, in the moment. And that meant helping Kristin. The way he figured it, anyone who looked so broken over the thought of missing her family, didn’t deserve to be stranded and alone on Thanksgiving. Maybe that was another reason the Lord had made sure a vehicle was available. So that he could offer her a ride.
Ryan liked it when the Father gave him a purpose. It was easier to forget his own troubles and to not think about what awaited him in Montana. He’d worked so hard to stay away since he left for college.
He tapped the horn, hoping she could hear over the wind and through the terminal’s walls. Her head popped up and her hands fell away to reveal her heart-shaped face twisted with melancholy. No tears, just emotion so raw it made his chest squeeze with pain.
I’ll make sure you get home. He watched her squint through the windows and storm, trying to figure out who was honking. She frowned and looked away. All she probably saw was a strange vehicle lurking outside from where she sat. Okay, she couldn’t see through the vehicle’s tinted windows. He hit the window lever and the tinted glass slid down, bringing in the storm.
He shivered, but being cold was nothing compared to the look of relief on Kristin’s face. The sadness faded like night to dawn and an astonished look replaced it. He gestured for her to come join him.
She lifted one eyebrow, as if making sure of his offer.
He waved her over again. Her beaming smile was the prettiest thing he’d seen in some time. She bounded to her feet, slipped her computer-case strap over one slim shoulder and her garment bag over the other. She marched toward him with a buoyant grace that showed how happy she was.
Yeah, it was a good thing he made the wrong turn and wound up in the right place to help her. Icy wind seared like razor blades through his thin Phoenix-bought coat, but he didn’t mind. There was something in the way she hurried toward him that warmed him on the inside. Like a lightbulb’s steady glow.
It must be nice to have the kind of home she wanted to get to so badly. He fought a twist in his chest as he climbed out into the snowfall—whatever emotion that was, he refused to deal with it. He was a world-class ignorer of emotions.
Kristin slid to a stop on the icy sidewalk and he steadied her with a hand to her elbow.
“Careful there. I don’t want to have to splint a broken leg for you.”
“Whew. No, but at least you would be handy to have around if I did fall.” She found her balance and eased away from his steadying grip. “I can’t believe it’s really you. How did you happen to be lucky enough to get a rental car?”
“The angels smiled down on me, I guess.” He took her bag off her shoulder and stowed it. “You wouldn’t happen to want a lift to Montana, would you?”
“What? Are you kidding me? I thought I’d be stuck in that terminal. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you waving at me from behind your steering wheel. For a second there, I thought I was dreaming. This is too good to be true.”
“I guess it’s your lucky day. Want me to take the computer case, too?”
“What?” She swiped the snow out of her face. And what a pretty face she had, all lit up with joy and happiness. One of the golden McKaslin girls, who had grown up to be a fine woman. It was easy to see her good heart and her sincerity. He’d forgotten there were still women like her in the world.
“Oh, the computer.” She rolled her eyes before shrugging the strap off her shoulder. “I’m getting ditzy. Well, ditzier than usual. Too many hours without sleep.”
“That makes two of us.” He stowed the computer safely between the seat and a suitcase, so it wouldn’t slide around. “Don’t stand there freezing. Get in the car.”
Kristin felt the blush flame from her throat to her hairline. Was she really gawking at the big handsome doctor who looked about as fit as an NFL quarterback? Yeah! She ripped her gaze away from him and hopped into the passenger seat. The slam of the door meant she was safely inside away from him and she could gather her wits.
Why was she acting as though she’d never seen him before? He was Ryan. Mom’s friend’s kid. The one who drove his family car into the ditch when he was eight.
It was hard to see that bothersome kid in the broad-shouldered, competent man who settled behind the steering wheel. He smelled of snow and winter nights and spicy aftershave. Just right.
And why was she noticing? She was a self-avowed, independent single woman. She was too smart to fall in love with any man. Let alone someone who lived half the country away.
Ryan clicked his belt into place. Grim lines carved deep into the corners around his mouth. “Buckle up. It’s gonna be a tough drive.”
Kristin hadn’t realized the windshield was a solid white sheet until the wipers snapped to life and beat the accumulation away. “The snow is really coming down. Do you think we can get very far?”
“I’m gonna try. We may have to overnight it somewhere, if we can find a vacancy.”
“Sounds sensible. We want to get home safe and sound.”
“That’s the idea.” He winked, put the Jeep in gear and eased down the accelerator. The tires slid, dug in and propelled them forward. “I’ve got a cell phone if you want to call home. Your folks are probably up worrying.”
Was that nice or what? Ryan definitely had done a lot of changing. “Thanks, but I tried with mine. I couldn’t get through. The storm.”
“Ah.” He concentrated on navigating through the whiteout conditions.
She didn’t say anything more. If she couldn’t make out the road in front of him, how could he? But he was somehow, driving with a steady confidence that made her take a closer look at the man Ryan Sanders had grown up to be.
A volunteer in the Peace Corps. A doctor. He was a man of contradictions. He still had that “I’m trouble” grin and the stubble on his jaw made him look rugged and outdoorsy. Mom was always mentioning Mary’s son on her weekly calls, but Kristin had dismissed him along with all the other eligible men Mom talked about.
Poor Mom, who was never going to give up hope for another wedding to plan. What was it Mom had said about Ryan? Kristin couldn’t remember. She automatically deleted any talk of men and marriage and how Mr. Right would come along one day.
There was no such thing as Mr. Right! How could Mom be in an unhappy marriage and be so blind to the truth?
Maybe it was how she made it through the day. Troubled, Kristin tried to turn her thoughts away from painful things. Stuff she tried not to think about, but going home only made it impossible to ignore. The hole in her family that remained—Allison. The missing face no one mentioned. The place at the table where a chair used to sit. The oldest sister who’d been alive and beautiful, and whom Kristin had loved with all her heart.
The years passed, her parents had slipped into a resigned distant marriage, her sisters had gone on to make homes and marriages of their own, but some things would never be the same. If there was something Allison’s death had taught her, it was that nothing lasted. Nothing. Not family, not love, not life.
Ryan broke the silence that had fallen between them. “Hey, are you hungry? There’s a drive-through that’s open. It’s the only one I’ve seen so far. If we don’t stop, it might be our last chance to eat until daybreak.”
“I’m starving. I definitely want to stop.”
“Looks like only the drive-through is open.” He braked in the parking lot to study the front doors. “Hope you don’t mind eating in here.”
“I’m not picky.”
“Me, either.” He slid to the order board, where the whiteout had blocked out half the menu. “I have no idea if you can see to order anything.”
“It’s no problem. There’s one of these near my town house. I know the menu by heart.”
“Me, too.” Why that surprised him, Ryan didn’t know. It made perfect sense she would eat at restaurants. He just didn’t picture her as the fast-food kind of girl.
A mumbling teenager who sounded unenthusiastic about his job took their orders. After waiting at the window while the winds kicked up, blowing the snow sideways, they were handed two sacks of piping-hot food. Ryan crept through the blizzard to park safely beneath the glow of a streetlight.
“Not that any of the light is reaching us,” Kristin commented with a wink as she unpacked the first bag.
Ryan flicked on the overhead lamp. “It’s weird. I haven’t seen snow since I went skiing winter vacation of my senior year in college. And it was on the slopes, not falling.”
“I bet it never snows in Phoenix.”
“Once, but it was just a skiff. The entire city shut down. It was incredible. Had that same amount fallen back home, no one would have blinked twice. I’ve sure missed real winters.”
Wind buffeted the driver’s side of the vehicle, and the gust of snow cloaked them entirely from the nighttime world. Kristin shivered with excitement. She loved a good winter storm. “It looks like you’re getting your wish. A full-fledged blizzard in the making!”
“Yeah, I’m one lucky guy.”
His crooked grin could devastate a less stalwart woman. Kristin gave thanks that she was a dedicated and sworn single gal who had full immunity to a man’s hundred-watt charisma. Because if she wasn’t, she’d be caught hook, line and sinker.
He probably charmed all the women in the Southwest with that grin, she thought as she clasped her hands together in prayer. She didn’t dare glance in Ryan’s direction to see if he’d bowed his head. She had grace to say, and she was going to say it.
But Ryan’s melted-chocolate baritone broke in before she could begin. “Dear Father, thank you for watching over us. For bringing us together on this night when we had hoped to be with family but found ourselves alone. Please watch over us on our journey north. In your name.”
“Amen,” they said together.
The whir of the heater and the fury of the storm filled the silence between them. Kristin unclasped her hands and didn’t dare to look at the man beside her. Paper crackled as Ryan dug through the closest sack. The crisp scent of hot greasy Tater Tots filled the air. The overhead dome lamp spotlighted the center console where Ryan was popping the tops off the little plastic salsa containers.
Why was her heart beating as if she’d just finished a ten-kilometer run? Kristin grabbed a straw, ripped off the paper wrapping, stabbed it into her soda and sipped hard. She’d never seen this side of Ryan Sanders before. She could remember him at church through their growing-up years, slumped on the pew next to his mother, staring off into space with the supremely bored look he’d perfected.
That boy had turned into a sincere man of faith? She never would have guessed the troublesome boy she remembered would have become so serious. Where had the real Ryan gone? Not that there was anything wrong with the man he’d turned out to be—not on the surface, anyway.
But what about deep inside? The parts of a person that were harder to discover? That was the real question. And it was why Kristin refused to date. Why she would never marry anyone.
Because you never knew what a person was really like, until it was too late.
“I think this is yours. Extra sour cream.” He held out the wrapped taco in his big, capable hands.
Healing hands, Kristin realized, and they looked it. Powerful but circumspect. “Th-thanks.”
The food was piping hot, but she hardly noticed as she unwrapped the chicken taco. Ryan was consuming his beef taco with great gusto. He stopped to nudge the container of hot sauce her way.
“No, too much for me.”
“I say, the hotter the better. I can have all of this?”
“Go for it.”
“Awesome.” He dumped an extreme amount of blistering sauce on his giant soft-shell taco and gave a moan of satisfaction after he took a bite and chewed. “Not nearly hot enough. I like melt-the-lid-off-the-jar hot.”
“There’s the Ryan I remember.”
“Hey, I grew up. But I really haven’t changed all that much. Down deep. I’m still a country boy at heart.”
A country boy? There was nothing obviously country in the polished, well-dressed man seated beside her. He looked as if he’d walked straight off the pages of a magazine. “You’ve been away from home for what, more than a dozen years?”
“Thirteen, nearly fourteen. What I can’t picture is you living in a big city. Why didn’t you marry your high-school sweetheart and buy a house near your folks?”
“Because I didn’t have a high-school sweetheart.” His innocent question took her back to places best left forgotten.
“Why not?”
His question was an innocent one—he didn’t know what he was doing to her by asking. The steel around her heart snapped tight into place, blocking out all the painful memories of that time in her life. When her older beloved sister had left home packed for a church retreat and bubbling with excitement, never to return again.
Kristin’s entire world changed that day. Nothing had ever been the same.
But Ryan had left the valley for greater things by then. With a football scholarship in hand and a free ride to an out-of-state university, he’d probably only heard about the small-plane crash that had taken several lives at the time. His mom had probably mentioned it to him on the phone when it happened, but it had only been a newsworthy item to him.
That day years ago had tipped her world on its side and showed her the truth. You could surround yourself with family and friends, make a marriage, a home and a family, go to church and pray faithfully, but it couldn’t protect a person. Not even God seemed to be able to do that.
The truth was too personal. She’d tried to talk about it before, but no one seemed to understand. Pastor Bill from her hometown church had been wonderful and understanding, but his well-meant advice had been useless. Why did God want to take Allison from them? She’d been beloved by everyone who knew her, and as an older sister, she’d been awesome. She was beautiful and kind, generous and selfless and smart. Anytime Kristin had needed her, her oldest sister had been there, no questions asked.
It wasn’t only her sister that she’d lost that day. She’d seen the world for what it truly was, and she couldn’t surround herself with people and things and pretend that if she was faithful enough, nothing could hurt her or those she loved.
Loss was inevitable. It was a part of life she didn’t care for, thank you very much. Kristin grabbed a Tater Tot and bit into the crispy, greasy goodness. Ryan was still waiting for an answer as he watched her, unwrapping his third taco.
“I’m just not into the whole marriage and kids thing.” She shrugged. It was a cop-out, she knew it, but there was no way this handsome man who probably had left a string of hopeful women pining away in Phoenix would understand.
“You’re a career woman. I get it.” Ryan chomped into his taco and chewed while he studied her thoughtfully, as if he were assessing her. Seeing something new in her. “Being a doc is great. I love what I do. It’s real satisfaction, gives your life meaning, when you love your work.”
“Yeah. That’s me. I love my job.” She did. So, why did her chest feel hollow as she took another bite of her chicken taco?
“I bet you’re good at what you do. I can see it.” He grabbed two Tater Tots and dragged them through the hot salsa. “You’re organized, smart, likable. Efficient, I bet.”
“Yeah, and a devoted workaholic.”
“Me, too. That’s the reason why I’m headed home to Montana after about a billion years of staying away.”
“Because you’re a workaholic?”
“Yeah. I’ve always had to stay wherever I was living. First it was because I was in college and I’d stay to get extra hours at whatever part-time job I had. I needed the money, and Mom understood that. But then it was med school and I needed to study. I was an intern and then a resident and there was no way I could get time off. I worked holidays.”
“And now you’re a doctor with your own practice. You make your own hours, right?”
“I wish.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m in control of my schedule more than I have been. But I’m low man on the totem pole. I’m in a practice with some of the top orthopedic surgeons in the Southwest, and they pull rank. Plus, it’s that student-loan thing again.”
“The one the size of a house?”
“Exactly. Sometimes on Saturdays when I’ve got paperwork piled as high as my computer monitor, I get this urge to run off and windsurf the day away on Lake Powell.”
“You windsurf?”
“I used to. Then I did something really inane. I decided to get engaged.”
“You’re getting married?”
“I’m not the type, I know. It took me about three months to figure that out after being dragged to a wedding planner to see about seven thousand different kinds of napkins we could get monogrammed, and my life flashed before my eyes. A life with no windsurfing. It didn’t work out.” He shrugged, as if it didn’t bother him a bit. “It was for the best.”
Kristin didn’t miss the shadows in his eyes. His tone might be light, but there was pain there. She could feel it as tangibly as the cold seeping in from outside. Whatever happened had been complicated and deeply painful.
She tried to think of something comforting to say, but drew a blank. No simple words of comfort or empathy could begin to ease the hurt from wounds in a person’s heart. She knew.
“Well, we better get a move on.” Ryan cleared his throat as if dismissing his loss or wiping away his sorrow. He crinkled up the paper wrappers, and the sound was as jarring and abrupt as his movements.
Kristin took the last bite of her taco as Ryan switched on the wipers. A few swipes of the blades and the accumulated snow was gone. The twin beams of the headlights reflected back to them in the whiteout conditions.
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep us safe.” He tossed her a roguishly charming wink, before putting the Jeep into gear.
“I wasn’t worried.” Kristin balled up the wrapper, pretending to be busy and unaffected by the man beside her.
He’s unhappy, she realized. Lonely. She knew what that was like. It was like the storm blocking out the glow from the town’s lights until there was only the cold darkness and the howl of the worsening storm. As if there could be no light to warm the long drive ahead.

Chapter Three
Ryan swore it felt as if they’d been driving for an eternity, but when he glanced at the clock in the dash, the green numbers showed less than two hours had passed. For one hundred and twenty long minutes they’d been creeping in a vast darkness, closed off from the world, the tenacious storm allowing him to see only a few feet in front of him.
Twice, he’d spotted the faint sudden pinpoint of on-coming headlights. Each vehicle had been traveling as slowly as he was, fighting to stay on the road. He hadn’t seen another driver in the past fifty-three minutes in front of him, behind him or on the other side of the double yellow.
Exhaustion made every nerve ending burn. Three times they’d stopped in the small towns off the highway to look for vacancies. No luck. Every other traveler had the same idea. They had no other option than to keep driving.
“How are you doing?” Kristin’s soothing alto broke the long silence between them. “Want to trade off driving?”
“Maybe. I figured we’d switch once we got to the next town.”
“Sounds good. If we don’t lose track of the road.”
“Pray this storm doesn’t get any worse.” Grim, Ryan recalled all the cases he’d read about in med school where innocent drivers had gotten caught in harsh winter storms and gone off the road. He saw how easily that could happen.
The blizzard closed in with a vengeance. The falling snow began to spin, washing over the windshield with a dizzying speed. The twin beams of the headlights glared on the downpour, reflecting back at him until he lost complete sight of the highway.
“Thank God for the tracks.” Kristin leaned forward, straining against her shoulder harness as if to help him watch for signs of danger. As if they were about to plunge off the road and down a ravine.
“Just what I was thinking.” Some brave soul was ahead of them. The lone set of tire tracks was rapidly filling with snow, but it was enough to keep him headed in the right direction. His vision blurred and he blinked hard.
Just stay alert, man. He fidgeted in his seat, fighting the belt. He could use the rest of his soda, both the sugar and caffeine would help, but he didn’t want to take his hand off the wheel or his attention from the road. There was no way he was going to let anything happen. He had Kristin to keep safe. Mom was waiting for him.
Thank you, Lord, for the help. The tire tracks in the snow unspooled ahead of them like a sign from above guiding them toward home.
Home. If his head wasn’t pounding from exhaustion and the effort of concentrating so hard, he could try to get his mind in the right place. He didn’t want Mom to see him like this, undecided and unhappy to be walking straight back to his past.
Luckily, driving took all his energy. He didn’t have to think about anything other than this moment and keeping the car on the road. It was like driving in a dark tunnel. He glued his attention to the tire tracks barely visible in the sheen of the headlights.
The road beneath them seemed to heave, tossing the SUV around. Fear hit him and he swung the wheel left, but it was too late. A tree bough swiped across the roof. The passenger-side tires dipped low into the pitch of the shoulder.
He saw it all in a flash, the sharp drop, the void of a forest. Already he was picturing what it would be like to crash through those thick limbs and plunge into the darkness, out of control. Flashes of car-accident victims he’d treated in the E.R. haunted him and he fought to stop the inevitable as the top-heavy SUV began to tip.
Please, Lord, he prayed as, teeth gritted, he fought the jolting steering wheel. A little help, please. Crashing into old-growth trees was going to be a very bad thing. Time slowed down. He saw the minute detail of the pine needles on the limb swinging toward them. Beside him Kristin gasped, grabbed the dash, expecting the worst, too.
Then, miraculously, the tires dug in. The vehicle swung left toward the level road, and he eased it to a shaking stop. Thank you, Father.
Adrenaline pumping, he tried not to think of everything that could have happened, how hurt they could have been and what those tire tracks meant. “That was a close one. Are you okay?”
Sheet white, Kristin studied him with wide eyes. She nodded. “But whoever is in that car isn’t.”
He didn’t answer. He flicked on the overhead dome light to see as he searched the dash for the hazard lights and hit them on. “Check around and see if there’s a first-aid kit. Then button up and come with me.”
Gone was the hint of the boy he’d been. He was all man, mature and focused. Reaching beneath the seat, Kristin’s fingers tapped over the nubby carpet and bumped into a plastic edge. She got down on all fours to extricate the small box and realized that Ryan was already climbing outside. The brutal subzero winds cut through the warm passenger compartment as he slammed the door shut. The night and storm stole him from her sight.
The box came loose. It was a first-aid kit, as she’d hoped it would be. Relieved, Kristin twisted back onto the seat, dug her mittens out of her coat. Her door swung open. Ryan stood just outside the light, shadow and substance as she held up the kit for him to see.
He took it from her. “Do you know how close we are to the next town?”
“I’m guessing maybe twelve, thirteen miles.” Kristin sank to midcalf in drifting snow. “It might be quicker heading back. We went, what, ten miles?”
It all added up to potential disaster. He ignored the bitter wind and the sting of flakes needling his face. All that mattered was helping the people in that car.
If he could. If it wasn’t too late.
He yanked his cell out of his pocket. Lord, please let this thing work out here. He hit auto dial and prayed for a signal.
There were no other sounds but the rapid-fire beat of his heart, the tap, tap, tap of snow and the howl of the wind through the trees. He shook his phone, not that it would do a lick of good. C’mon. Connect.
He heard the squeak of leather shoes in the compact snow behind him. One glance told him Kristin was managing. He kept in front of her, taking the brunt of the blizzard hiking along the tire tracks as they rolled through a jagged hole in the guardrail and into the darkness.
His phone beeped. He froze in place. He had a signal! There was a ring, and an emergency operator answered. It sounded like a small county station; he could hear the buzz of activity in the background. It was a busy night for the sheriff’s department, and about to get busier.
“I have a single-car accident on highway 84.” He squinted at the milepost marker hanging from a jagged arm of the guard post and reported the number to the operator.
What was he going to find? His guts twisted as he swept the miniflashlight on his key ring through the darkness. Nothing. Only horizontal snow in a black void.
Please, Lord, be with whoever is in that vehicle. Or was. Ryan steeled his spine. Prepared for what he might find, he took a step and skidded down a nearly vertical slope.
Not a good sign, either. He dug his heels in before he crashed into a tree. With pine needles cold against his face, he flashed the small light through the underbrush. Nothing. No, wait. There was a faint something. Squinting, Ryan swept the area again. Sure enough, there it was. The edge of a broken taillight reflecting some of the light back at him despite the heavy downpour and thick foliage.
It was enough of a miracle on this brutal night, that Ryan gave thanks as he crashed through limbs and over dormant blackberry bushes, following the ragged trail of tracks that led to a small sedan. The vehicle was dark and still. A very bad sign.
Help me, Father, he prayed as he snapped limbs and tore branches out of his way, sidling along the quiet car.
Too quiet. That couldn’t be good. Between shock, trauma and the freezing cold, he didn’t expect to find anyone alive.
“Hello?” Calm, focused, he broke the icy layer of snow off the driver’s window with the side of his hand. The glow of his flashlight showed a lone driver with a mass of dark curls slumped behind the wheel.
He tried the door and the handle gave. The passenger compartment was cool, but not yet cold. He began talking, calm and steady, in case the young woman could hear him. So she wouldn’t be afraid.
He wasn’t aware of Kristin crowding close to see if she could help or the snow slicing between his neck and his coat collar or the wind as he worked.
Wow, he’s sure something. Kristin’s heart hitched as she watched him work, methodical and skilled. He pressed two fingers to the woman’s jugular and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. She was alive.
Kristin leaned against the car. She’d never felt so helpless in her life. If a rental car had been available, then she may well have been here alone to help the injured driver. What good could she have done? Ryan was a blessing. He checked the young woman’s pupils while talking to her, low and soothing.
I bet he’s a great doctor. Admiration for him filled her up. She loved medical dramas on television, but this was something greater. This was real. Somber lines dug deep in Ryan’s face as he turned to her in the faint glow from his flashlight. How badly was the woman hurt?
“What can I do to help?”
“Go through the trunk. I’ll pull the latch. See if there’s anything to wrap her in. Blankets. Sheets. Something. We’ve got to get her warm.”
At least she was alive. That was something. Praying, Kristin scrambled to the back of the car, lifting the trunk after it popped up. How could he be calm and steady? Okay, he was a doctor, he was used to this, but she wasn’t. Fear jittered through her veins, leaving her quaking and her fingers clumsy as she began to push through the crowded trunk. Full laundry bags, textbooks, a laptop case… She spied a flashlight and tested it; it worked. She tucked that under her arm.
As she kept digging, Ryan’s voice pulled at her like a fish on a line. She was hooked and unable to turn away. Had she ever heard a man sound like that? A deep gravelly baritone that was both hard-edged man and infinitely caring. Powerful and dependable. A man who could make anything right.
Please, Father, help guide his hands tonight. Kristin moved aside a University of Idaho book bag, realizing the young driver was a college student, probably heading home for Thanksgiving, too. Would she be all right?
She wasn’t moving. She was unconscious. At least Ryan was here. He knew what to do. Clutching the stadium blanket she’d found beneath the book bag, Kristin carefully picked her way through the knee-deep snow.
Ryan must have heard her coming. Crouched in the open door, he twisted toward her. Worry lines furrowed deep in his forehead, but he managed a strained nod as his gaze pinned on the folded blanket. “Good. That will do just fine.”
“How is she?”
“She’s trying to stay awake for me.” Solemn, he took the blanket in exchange for his cell phone. “I’ve got dispatch to make this a priority.”
Kristin didn’t need to ask. She could see the truth in his eyes. The young college girl could be seriously injured. “What do you need me to do?”
“The car is stable. I’m not worried about it rolling any farther down the ravine. The trees here are pretty sturdy. How do you feel about climbing in the back seat?”
“Sure.” Kristin slipped the cell into her coat pocket, struggling with the stubborn door. Ice cracked around the handle and she slipped into the rapidly cooling interior of the compact sedan.
The beam of the flashlight danced eerily around the silent passenger compartment, as Ryan wedged it into place on the dashboard. The golden stream illuminated a beaded cross hanging from the rearview mirror, a small stuffed puppy tucked into the middle console next to an insulated coffee cup with the name Samantha and the Greek symbols of a sorority printed on it. And then she saw the college girl’s thick and beautiful brown wavy hair matted with blood.
Kristin shivered all the way to her bone marrow. The only time she’d seen anyone seriously hurt was after the private plane went down, when Allison had died. Her sister Kirby had also been in the plane, but had survived.
Kristin had been a freshman in high school, and with all the time that had passed since, it felt so long ago. But the images returned as crisp and clear as if they’d happened an hour ago. The fear for her critically injured sister, the beep of machines, the frightening reality of death as they all waited for Kirby to regain consciousness, terrified that she’d slip away into an irreversible coma and death.
Kirby had survived.
Please, Lord, help this young woman. She was too young to die.
“I need your help,” Ryan said, fracturing her thoughts, working quickly as he dug through the first-aid kit with one free hand. “Hold her head and neck steady from behind while I try to stop this bleeding.”
“Steady, huh?” That’s the last thing she was. Kristin stared at her quivering hands. She took a deep breath. Willed the fear to stop.
“Like this.” He guided her hands. “Cradle her as still as you can. She could have a neck injury, and this will minimize any further damage while I work. All right?”
Kristin knew he meant how important this was. The difference between paralysis and movement, between life and death. Her hands had to be rock steady. She made sure of it.
Ryan was unbreakable steel. Checking vitals, applying pressure and bandages, assessing for further injuries. As he worked, he talked low and reassuring.
“Can you hear me, Samantha? I’m a doctor, if you can believe that. And that’s Kristin, in the seat behind you. Say hi, Kristin.”
“Hi, Samantha.”
The injured woman murmured, but nothing more. Kristin felt the slightest of movements beneath her fingertips, the drum of a very slow pulse and the flex of muscles, as if the girl was trying to awaken.
“Hold her steady.” Ryan’s grave gaze said everything.
Samantha was seriously injured. Without mercy, the storm raged, the snow pounding like rain. Could help even make it through the blizzard in time? There was so little Ryan could do here, with few supplies. She didn’t dare say the words aloud. She’d never felt so helpless.
But Ryan looked confident. In charge. He was amazing. Hope seeped into Kristin’s heart as she watched his skilled hands working to stanch the flow of blood from several gashes along the girl’s hairline. Blood seemed to be everywhere, but he worked on, composed and sure. She saw on his face the dedication she expected a doctor to have. The seriousness.
And something more rare. Compassion.
When he was done, he seemed to give a sigh of relief. He checked his patient’s pulse using his wristwatch, frowned and asked for his cell. Shivering and seeming to be unaware of it, he made another call to the county dispatch.
“They’re almost here.” Ryan handed her the flashlight. “Or so the operator says. It’s hard going for them, and with this poor visibility, they could drive right past the Jeep and miss us. Would you mind going up to flag them down?”
“Sure.”
His fingers moved into place between hers, supporting Samantha’s head and neck with extreme care. She read the fear he held for the young college woman in his shadowed eyes. She remembered when her sister Kirby had been in intensive care. She knew exactly what hung in the balance. A life. She knew all that meant, truly meant, unlike so many people who went around living lives they took for granted.
All it took was a split second for everything to change. For life to never be the same again. Would Samantha live? Would she be in a wheelchair or on crutches for the years to come?
Holding on to hope for the best outcome, Kristin scrambled up the slope, fighting the wind and snow driving at her back and the brambles grabbing at her feet. The shadows she saw in Ryan’s eyes stayed with her as she fought to the top. Shadows of grief that broke her heart as she burst onto the lonely expanse of country road, where no other soul stirred on this cruel night. And so she waited, shivering and alone, for help that felt as if it would never come.

The rumble of the fire truck’s engines, muffled by the snow, faded into the distance. Although the taillights had long faded, Kristin watched. She couldn’t get the injured college student out of her mind.
Ryan marched toward her, swiping snow out of his eyes as he crossed in front of the SUV’s headlights. Burnished by light, surrounded by darkness, he looked more myth than man as he yanked open the passenger door for her.
Woodenly she eased into the seat, stiff with cold, but not feeling anything but a horrible void. Tepid air breezed out of the vents in the dash and she couldn’t feel it. The clock glowed the time—not thirty minutes had passed since they’d nearly followed Samantha Fields off the road.
Snow drifted inside with Ryan as he collapsed in the seat and slammed the door. He filled the seat, slumping with his head rolling back against the headrest. His presence made the passenger compartment shrink. “I was able to get through to Tim, a friend I used to work with. He’s one of the best surgeons in this area, and he’s agreed to meet Samantha at the hospital. He’ll take excellent care of her.”
“You took the time to do that?”
“Sure. Helping people is what I do. It’s why I studied all those years. Why I’m in debt for a few hundred grand.” Although exhaustion lined his face and bruised the skin beneath his eyes, his wink was saucy.
She had watched while he worked tirelessly alongside the medics stabilizing Samantha’s neck and spine so that she had the best possible outcome, in case of a spinal cord injury. All in a day’s work for him, maybe, but she’d never seen anyone like him.
She pulled off her mittens, now that the heater was kicking out a decent hot breeze. “Let’s trade places. I’ll drive and let you sit here and warm your hands. You’ve got to be half frozen.”
“The cold never used to bother me. I’ve been away from Montana too long. It’s the Phoenix weather. It’s thinned my blood. Now I turn into an icicle the second it snows. It’s not manly. It’s embarrassing.”
“I’m embarrassed for you.” She’d never met a better example of what a man should be, but he seemed unaware that he was that and more. “Move. Go on. I can’t drive from over here.”
As if too exhausted to lift his head from the seat back, Ryan swiveled his eyes to focus on her with a disbelieving look. One eyebrow crooked with obvious skepticism. “You’d really drive? You’re not just saying that, right?”
“Right.”
“You’re not afraid to drive in this stuff?”
“Do I look as if I’m shaking in my boots? No.”
“But you’re a girl. Girls don’t drive in lots of snow. At least not in my experience.”
“You have lived in Arizona too long!” Kristin took one look at the man slouching beside her, dappled with big flakes of melting snow, his face chapped from the bitter temperatures outside. “Don’t let the designer clothes fool you. You can take the girl out of Montana, but not Montana out of the girl. Let me behind the wheel and I’ll show you.”
“Yeah? I’d be grateful if I could just close my eyes for about ten minutes.”
“How about all the way until the next town?”
“Deal.” Ryan opened the door and shouldered out into the dark. “No, you climb over and stay inside. I’ll brave the storm. I’m still frozen anyway.”
With a lopsided grin, he was gone, leaving the scent of wind, a hint of expensive cologne and man. A pleasant combination. Kristin climbed over the console and into the seat that was pushed too far back for her feet to reach the pedals. She adjusted the seat, snapped the shoulder harness into place and checked out the controls.
Ryan cut through the headlights with that confident, jaunty walk of his. He was like a hero out of an old black-and-white movie, tough and strong and compassionate. She didn’t know they made men like that anymore.
He collapsed beside her, bringing with him the frigid wind and a blast of snow. He swiped icy flakes off his eyebrows. “Believe it or not, the blizzard’s winding down some.”
“Some. Not a lot.” Kristin switched off the hazard lights, staring into the impenetrable conditions. No cars had passed, except for the emergency vehicles, since they’d arrived. The road ahead lay like a pristine ribbon of white rolling out of the reach of the headlights. Dangerous driving ahead. Kristin released the hand brake and shifted into low gear.
Ryan unzipped his coat, settling in. “Just tell me if you get too white-knuckled.”
“Don’t worry. I can handle it. Belt up and hold on.” Was he a skeptic or what? It had been a long time since she’d driven anything with more power than her sensible sedan, but she was used to this weather. She hadn’t always flown home. She’d driven more often than not over the treacherous mountain passes and she was still in one piece. “This is nothing compared to commuting in Seattle traffic twice a day for more years than I care to count.”
“That’s what I can’t picture. You living in a city. I don’t know why. It just doesn’t go with the McKaslin image.”
“I won’t say it wasn’t a big adjustment when I first moved there. When I went to college, I thought Bozeman was a big city.”
“Bozeman?” he asked.
“Yeah, I know. It’s a tiny city compared to someplace like Seattle. I felt lost. Every time I left my apartment I got turned around. I’d never seen so many streets and roads and freeways in my life.”
“I know how you felt—moving away from a place with one main street through town, where you know all the roads and shortcuts by heart, to a huge city where the checkers at the grocery store ask for ID because they don’t know you, your family, your grandparents and all your cousins by name.”
“See, that’s where we differ. I didn’t mind living someplace folks didn’t know me.”
Ryan leaned the seat all the way back and stretched out his legs as far as he could. Not comfortable, but an acceptable snoozing position. Except thinking about his past made him antsy. As tired as he was, his nerve endings felt as though they were twitching and his muscles felt heavy as lead. His emotions were going every which way. Regret, guilt, grief.
Nothing Kristin would understand. Some people, like her, could go home again. They would always know the warmth of their childhood awaited them, that the ghosts of memories from holidays past were happy ones. Not haunted by what should have been, and more failures than the young boy he’d been could cope with.
Or the man he’d become.
He liked to think he wasn’t a coward. He faced challenges head-on. Sucked it up and did what needed to be done. He wasn’t afraid of hardship or hard work. But some things were best left unexamined. Some memories best left buried. He had a good life, he made a good living, and he loved his work and his practice. What good was having to pick apart a past that only brought pain? That exposed wounds that could never be healed?
No, Kristin didn’t look as though she’d rather be running away instead of heading home. Her delicate profile was brushed by the glow of the dash lights, burnishing her creamy porcelain-fine skin, the feminine line of her nose and the dainty cut of her chin. He supposed her parents would welcome her with open arms, and tomorrow there would be only happiness in her home where her sisters and their families gathered to make new memories for the holidays to come.
He closed his eyes, wondering, just wondering. If he would have turned out the same if his dad had lived instead of withered away in a coma. If the logging truck hadn’t crossed the double yellow on the road to town. If, instead of being struck and pinned to the ground beneath a load of logs, Dad had returned home with the ice cream he’d gone to fetch.
God made all things for a reason. But what about tonight? Why had Samantha Fields been hurt tonight? How would her life be changed?
Only God knew.
Still, it troubled him deeply. He closed his eyes, too troubled to fall right asleep. Listening to the swipe of the wiper blades on the windshield, he felt the blast of heat from the vents. The vehicle fishtailed now and then, and Kristin handled it skillfully, keeping them safe as they journeyed through the dark and snow. He couldn’t remember feeling more lonely as the hours dragged on and sleep claimed him, blessedly deep.

Chapter Four
Something was hurting his eyes. Something shiny. Bright like sunlight.
Consciousness returned in a nanosecond—the ache in his back from the seat, the binding restriction of the seat belt, the hum of the engine and low murmur of music on the radio. And Kristin, with her golden hair tangled and windblown, and fatigue bruising the fragile skin beneath her eyes. She smiled, and he swore he could see heaven.
“Good morning.” Her gentle alto was the single most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. A good way to start a new day. Thanksgiving Day.
Rational thought pierced through his sleep-fogged mind. Kristin had let him sleep through until daybreak. Sitting upright, he swiped a hand over his face and looked around. Sure enough there was that celebratory shine of the rising sun cresting the granite peaks to the east.
Even though he hadn’t seen those particular mountains in more than a decade, he recognized the rugged snow-blanketed peaks thrusting into the silky wisps of clouds and sun.
The Bridger Range. Mountains he’d climbed in, biked in, hiked in and skied on. Where he would take off just to get away. Where he retreated just to play. Every morning he’d sat at the breakfast table shoveling in bowl after bowl of cereal while he stared through the old warped glass windows and there they were, those mountains jagged and snowcapped and close enough to touch.
Mountains he hadn’t seen since he was a restless eighteen-year-old who couldn’t wait to leave the prison of his small town. Who’d never looked over his shoulder as he drove away.
Looking at those proud summits and those breathtaking slopes made it real. He was home. For better or worse. “I only meant to catch a few z’s. Not sleep through three mountain passes and two states. You should have kicked me in the shin to wake me up.”
“It was tempting, but I didn’t mind driving. It was the least I could do, considering you were so valiant saving Samantha’s life.”
“Valiant? Me? No way. I just tried to get her stable. That reminds me, I meant to check on her before this.” He dug around in his pockets for his cell, but he only got Tim’s voice mail. He left a message, there was nothing else he could do for now. “What about you? You drove through a blizzard for hours.”
“They had just plowed, so it wasn’t too bad.”
“You had to stop for gas. Why didn’t you wake me up so I could take the next shift?”
“Oh, I tried. I shook you and you didn’t even move. You were so out of it you slept right through the ding when I left the keys in the ignition and the banging when I filled the tank. A truck at the next fuel pump accidentally hit his horn and nothing. Not even the slightest hitch in your snoring.”
“I don’t snore.”
“That you know.”
He didn’t snore, but Kristin couldn’t resist teasing him. He looked adorable, all rumpled and sleep-soft. He’d sprawled all over his side of the vehicle, and he drew his legs up and yawned widely.
As much as she was so not interested romantically, the woman in her couldn’t help appreciating a fine, good-hearted man. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be crazy enough to start developing a crush on him. He was a doctor, he made a difference with his life, he was handsome and kind and funny and smart.
He’s probably commitment shy and has a list of typical male faults a mile long, she thought to intentionally counterbalance the admiration glowing in her chest like the rising sun.
He rubbed his eyes and his nose. Scrunching up his mouth like a little kid, he looked ten times more handsome as he did. He blinked, as if his eyes were still trying to focus on the rolling mountain valley and the dazzling peaks rimming it. “Look, the snow’s stopped.”
“Yeah. About an hour ago. There’s nothing like a Montana morning.” Her eyes hurt with the beauty of it. She was home. Rose-hued sunlight shimmered on miles of quiet, pristine snow, like thousands of tiny faceted jewels flung across the land. A land so big and untamed, it still felt wild over a century after it was settled.
Wooden fence posts draped in snow marched along meadows and over undulating hills, not unlike the fences the pioneers had sunk into this land. Up ahead an elk, a light milk-chocolate tan against the dazzling snow, ambled onto the two-lane highway. He swiveled his elegant head to look at her, his polished antlers gleaming like ivory in the light.
She slowed on the recently plowed roadway. Ice had her fishtailing but she steered into it, shifted into neutral and eased to a stop. With no traffic so early in this desolate place, she waited instead of going around.
“I haven’t seen that in a while.” Ryan breathed, sitting up straight. “We used to have a whole herd of them that would graze in the fields next to our house.”
“We did, too. They’d come and eat the grain set out for the horses.”
“Is he awesome or what?”
Pure, elegant power, the male elk lifted his head to scent the wind. Muscles rippled beneath his tan coat as he stretched. As if sensing danger, the great animal gathered up into a breathtaking leap. Agile and lithe, the bull galloped across the ruby-hued landscape, a streak of brown against the wonder of the dawn. A ray of sunlight haloed him and he vanished.
“Awesome,” Kristin agreed into the silence.
As the SUV crept forward on the ribbon of road, Ryan fought the memories crowding up from the deep well in his heart he’d boarded shut decades ago. Memories of the crisp winter air searing his face. His boots sinking deep in the snow as he tried to walk in his dad’s tracks, though the footprints were too far apart. The crackle of the dried marsh reeds as they rustled when Dad knelt down. The black stock of his hunting rifle resting on his thigh.
“What made these tracks, son?” Dad had asked in that hushed voice he used, not as harsh as a whisper but so quiet Ryan had to scoot up closer to hear. “Look carefully.”
His eight-year-old body had been thrumming with excitement. He hitched up the woolen hat that had slung too low and into his eyes, and frowned at the tracks. They looked just like the deer tracks they saw on the north side of the marsh. But he didn’t want to blurt out the wrong answer without thinking long and hard on it first. He didn’t want to disappoint his dad.
“Here’s a hint. First figure about how long they are.”
“I shoulda known that right off, Dad!” Ryan remembered to keep his voice down even if he wanted to shout with excitement. “It’s an elk. Elks’ tracks are bigger than deer. And, uh, it’s a bull elk. He’d been polishin’ up his antlers on that cottonwood. The bark’s all gone in spots.”
“That’s my smart boy. My guess is if we move along nice and quiet, we just might be lucky enough to get a good look at him.”
The rasping hum of a diesel engine tore Ryan from the past and from his father’s side. He sat with the morning sun stinging his eyes in the passenger seat as Kristin merged onto the wide-open lanes of I-90. The three-trailer semi barreling along in the lane beside them pulled ahead, the driver in an obvious hurry to get home.
Home. How was he going to make it through the next twenty-four hours when he hadn’t even reached his mom’s house and he was already dragging up the past? And feeling torn apart by it. He didn’t know. He didn’t have any answers. He flipped down the visor and winced at his reflection in the mirror. He took one look at his red-rimmed eyes, dark spikes of hair that looked like a twister tore through them and a day’s growth shadowing his jaw.
Yeah, Mom’s gonna take one look at me and start right in. Ryan could hear it already. She’d want to know if he was sleeping enough, eating right, et cetera, et cetera, and there was no way he could tell her the truth. No way he could drag up the past that would only devastate them both. For her sake, he had to be tough.
Troubled, he stared out his side of the windshield and blinked. It was the marsh. Buried in snow, the surface rough and choppy due to a few of the hardier, taller reeds and cattails poking through the snow. The marsh where Dad would take him to learn what a man needed to know.
It wasn’t the hunting. It wasn’t the tracking. It was the self-reliance. The world’s a harsh place, son. He could hear Dad’s mellow baritone as clear and true as the day he’d said it. A smart man adapts and perseveres and learns to take care of himself. Look, there’s the elk.
Ryan saw it perfectly in memory—the proud bull poised at the frozen shore, antlered head lifted to scent the wind on a morning lit by gold and rose, in a world layered with white.
Yeah, Dad, you sure taught me that lesson well. Ryan swallowed past the knot in his throat, turning his head to watch as the marsh whizzed by and fell behind them. Lost from sight like the past. Yeah, his dad’s death taught him way too much. He’d learned to take care of himself at an early age.
“This is our exit.” Kristin’s voice sounded thick.
With excitement? Probably. She had her family waiting, her sisters coming home, her grandparents to draw near. Self-reliance wasn’t something a McKaslin girl needed to know to survive. He realized what felt like envy was really longing. Longing for what could never be.
You can’t change the past, man, he told himself, although he knew that lesson well, too. The past is gone, done, no sense in letting it in. He was changed. A man he hoped his dad would be proud of. Someone who was about as self-reliant as possible in this world of Internet and cell phones, of urban sprawl and shopping malls.
“Look.” Kristin gestured ahead as she circled off the icy ramp and onto the two-lane road that nosed them toward town. “A lot has changed. Oh, that restaurant is new. There’s Gramma’s coffee shop. She has a new awning out front. I’ll have to tell her how cute it looks.”
Ryan scanned the green-and-white-striped awning giving a decidedly Country Living look to the shop that advertised “Espresso” in loopy purple neon. That was the coffee place Mom was always talking about. She’d picked up extra work whenever Kristin’s grandmother needed help.
That’s when he realized the town, with its old-fashioned main street and neat, sturdy buildings that hadn’t changed since the fifties, had grown up, too. A few quaint restaurants, more cafés than the old red Formica-countered diners, brightened up the faded brick buildings marching down the length of several blocks. Corey’s Hardware had a new neon sign, fresh paint and a bench out front.
There was a new antique store prettied up with lace curtains in the wide windows. And the Sunshine Café, where, after he’d saved up change from collecting aluminum, he’d splurge on chocolate milkshakes for him and his little sister before handing over the bulk of the hard-earned dollars to his mom.
“Do your cousins still run that place?”
“Yeah. They make the best chocolate shakes anywhere.”
“I was just thinking about that. Thick and sweet and so chocolaty.” Ryan’s stomach growled. “Wow, I remember you and your sisters would ride your horses into town and tie them up in the parking spots in front of the café.”
“And you would ride your bike.”
His bike. As Kristin navigated along the snowy street, where previous tracks of chained-up vehicles had broken a clear path, he saw snatches of the boy he’d been. Pedaling on his secondhand mountain bike down the wrong side of the road, a rebel without a cause and a chip on his shoulder. Holding down two jobs, bagging at the grocery on weekends and cleaning barns for Kristin’s uncle. Wanting his mother’s life to be easier. Hating that it wasn’t. Missing his dad so much, it hurt to breathe.
I never should have come back, he thought, his eyes stinging. It was too much. Earlier, he’d vowed to keep his thoughts in the present. But what did a guy do when the past was tangled up with the present?
“The closer we get to home, the sadder you look.” Kristin sounded concerned. Caring, the way a friend was.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/jillian-hart/holiday-homecoming/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.