Child of Grace (Love Inspired) (11 page)

“That was my choice, too. We must have similar tastes.”

At his husky comment, she looked over her shoulder. Only to discover he was mere inches away.

Her heart stuttered, then raced on, as she got lost in his dark brown eyes. Funny. She’d never noticed the flecks of gold in them before. Or the thin white scar near his hairline. As for the sensuous curve of his firm lips…

Dr. Walters had advised that she let herself experience attraction in a safe environment. But standing ten inches from Luke Turner suddenly didn’t feel in the least bit safe.

As she gripped the back of the chair in front of her and tried to regain her equilibrium, the phone began to ring.

Thank You, Lord!

The spell broken, she eased away from Luke and backed toward the door. “I need to get that. Thanks for bringing those over.” She motioned toward the table.

“No problem.” He picked up her favorite. “After you finish your call, I’ll give you the highlights of the architect’s comments on this one.”

He wasn’t leaving.

Behind her, she groped for the doorknob, twisting it as she fought down a rush of panic. “This could take a while. And I haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

He sat on the wicker settee, his actions deliberate, his gaze steady. “I’m in no hurry. I don’t have any plans for tonight. But I promise not to delay your dinner long.”

Pushing through the door, she fled. Certain now that Luke had more he wanted to discuss than the architect’s comments.

Focused on developing an evasion strategy, Kelsey picked up the phone and gave the caller a distracted greeting.

“Ms. Anderson?”

The male voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Yes.”

“This is Detective Mark Layton from St. Louis County Crimes Against Persons. Do you have a few minutes?”

A shock wave ricocheted through her, and she sucked in a sharp breath. An image of the detective’s face clicked into place—along with all the other details of that terrible night. Feeling for the stool beside her, she lowered herself to it as the stiffening went out of her legs.

“Ms. Anderson?”

“Yes.” The word came out strained and barely audible.

“I wanted to let you know we have a suspect in custody. His last victim managed to inflict some damage to his face that raised red flags when he was stopped two days later for a traffic violation. We’re running DNA now, but the details of the latest crime fit his MO. I think we have our man. I’ll keep you informed, but I thought you’d want to know.”

“Wh-who is it?”

“A guy named Carl Williams. A real loser. Caucasian, twenty-nine, a history of minor run-ins with the law. Does the name ring any bells?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think it would. But I’d like to email you his photo. Just in case you recognize him.”

As he recited the email address she’d given him seven months ago, she began to shake.

They wanted her to look at his face.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath.

You can do this, Kelsey.

“Is that still correct, Ms. Anderson?”

“Yes.” A tremor ran through her voice. “I’ll check my email later tonight, if that’s all right.”

“That’s fine.”

“Do I…have to do anything else?”

“Not at this point. None of the victims can ID him, but the DNA should be all the evidence we need. If this goes to trial, you may be called on to testify, but that will be months down the road.”

Kelsey tightened her grip on the phone. She couldn’t even imagine recounting her story and reliving the nightmare in front of a roomful of people. Yet she wanted the man punished. To the full extent of the law. If that took a court appearance, she’d find the strength to do it.

But what had he meant by “if”?

“Is there a chance this might not go to trial?”

“It’s possible. He could plea-bargain. Plead guilty in exchange for leniency in sentencing. Frankly, I hope he doesn’t. We’d like to stick it to this guy. He doesn’t deserve one iota of consideration.”

The hard edge to the detective’s voice reflected her own feelings.

“I hope he doesn’t, either. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll get back to you later tonight.”

“Good enough. Take care.”

The line went dead.

As the seconds ticked by, Kelsey sat there, phone still pressed to her ear, staring at the far wall.

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t handle the flood of emotions the call had unleashed.

All along, she thought she’d dealt with the attack. After a lot of prayer, after hours of conversation with Dr. Walters and Reverend Howard, she’d come to accept that, while she’d made a mistake, she wasn’t to blame for what had happened. God hadn’t been punishing her. She was the victim.

And she hadn’t let it destroy her. Instead, she’d used it as a wake-up call to build a different, better life. Residual fear and wariness were understandable. But they were dissipating now, too. Thanks in large part to a kind, caring army doctor who even now sat waiting for her just steps away.

A man who was fast making inroads into her heart.

A man she’d be interested in getting to know better if her life wasn’t so complicated.

As if on cue, one of those complications gave her a kick.

Resting her hand atop the new, innocent life within her, Kelsey’s throat tightened. She couldn’t let herself get involved with Luke until she made some decisions about this baby. That was only fair to him.

But hours of thinking and multiple prayers hadn’t yet yielded any guidance.

And Luke was leaving in seventeen days.

A raucous beep began to sound in her ear, reminding her the phone was off the hook. She fumbled it back into the holder and tried to blink away the moisture blurring her vision. But a tear escaped out of the corner of her eye and trailed down her check. Followed by another. And another. Until there were more than she could control.

And she hated being out of control.

Dr. Walters had warned her tears would come at some point.
Should
come. That crying was more than okay. It was cathartic. But this wasn’t the time. Not with Luke waiting for her.

Resting her elbows on the counter, she buried her face in her hands.

Don’t panic, Kelsey. Just breathe. You’ll be fine.

That mantra had always worked in the past, and she repeated it over and over. Waiting for calm to replace panic. Waiting for her respiration to steady. Waiting for her pulse to slow.

But as the tears continued to course down her cheeks, her heart wasn’t listening.

Luke tapped the foam-backed rendering in his hand with one finger and frowned. Kelsey had said she might be a while, but fifteen minutes seemed excessive. Maybe she hoped he’d get tired of waiting and leave.

No way. He wasn’t going to let her off as easily this time. Tonight, he was going to get answers to at least some of his questions.

Rising from the wicker settee, he put the rendering back on the table and moved to the door. She’d shut it behind her, but through the window he had a partial side view of her. She was seated at the counter with her back to him, and the phone had been returned to its holder. The call was over.

But the effects weren’t. Her face was buried in her hands and her shoulders were shaking.

She was crying.

Jolted, he stared at her. His next-door neighbor didn’t strike him as the type of woman who cried without serious provocation.

Something bad had happened.

He reached for the door, following his first impulse. Kelsey needed comforting, and his instincts told him to pull her into a hug as Hannah had done with him not long ago.

But Kelsey had always kept him at arm’s length. Such a move could backfire.

He went to plan B.

Instead of opening the door, he lifted his hand and rapped lightly on the glass. “Kelsey?”

His query carried through the open window farther down the wall, and her body went rigid. She raised her head, but kept it averted as she gripped the edge of the counter.

“Another time would be better, Luke.”

He hardly recognized her strained, shaky voice.

Without waiting for him to respond, she edged sideways down the length of the counter, her back to him. She paused for a moment to grasp the back of a kitchen chair, as if to steady herself, then headed toward the hall.

“Kelsey, wait!”

At his entreaty, she picked up her pace.

Not a good move in her condition.

Two steps later, when she cut the hall corner too short and bumped into the wall, she stumbled. Teetered. Flailed for a handhold.

Adrenaline surging, Luke yanked open the back door, sprinted across the room and grabbed for her as she went down. He was in time to keep her from falling flat. But not in time to prevent her from going down hard on one knee.

Crouching beside her, he kept a firm grip on her arm. She was bent over, one hand on the floor, the other on her stomach. Her soft, blond hair had swung forward, hiding her face from his view, but he could hear her ragged gasps.

He could also feel her shaking.

“It’s okay, Kelsey.” He used his most soothing voice as he stroked her back. “You’ll be fine. Let me help you to a chair.” Without waiting for a response, he rose, bent toward her and extended his hand. After a moment she took it. “On three. One, two, three.”

Her grip tightened as he helped her to her feet. And he didn’t let go once she was upright. Because as soon as she tried to put weight on her injured knee, she winced.

“Let’s get you off your feet.” He put his arm around her waist and, absorbing as much of her weight as he could, he led her to a kitchen chair and eased her into it. Then he dropped down to balance on the balls of his feet beside her, planning to examine her knee.

“I’m more worried…about the baby.”

At her tremulous comment, he lifted his head—and got his first gut-clenching glimpse of her ravaged face. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks moist with tears, her lips taut and trembling. She looked as traumatized as some of the patients he’d treated on the battlefield.

Struggling to disguise his shock, he did his best to reassure her about the baby. “I don’t think the fall was hard enough to cause any problems on that score.”

He forced himself to focus on her knee, which was tender to the touch and already showing signs of discoloration. But a quick exam relieved his mind.

“I don’t think there’s any serious damage, but it may swell, and it will definitely bruise. Do you have an ice pack in the house?”

“Gram had one. It’s in the hall closet.” She waved toward the narrow passage where she’d been heading when she’d fallen.

Her voice was still shaky. Too shaky.

“I’ll get it, then we’ll move you somewhere more comfortable so you can elevate your leg.”

He strode down the hall toward the closet at the end, glancing into each of the three rooms he passed. One contained quilt paraphernalia. The other two were bedrooms.

There was no sign of a nursery. Nor any indication a room was being readied to house the infant being carried by the traumatized woman in the kitchen.

As he opened the closet door and searched the shelves for the ice pack, he reached a decision.

He wasn’t leaving this house until he had answers to
all
the questions that had left him tossing in bed for the past dozen nights.

And if he had to open his own heart and go way outside his comfort zone to get them, so be it.

A
s Kelsey waited for Luke to return, she rested her hand on her stomach and felt for signs of life. Despite his reassurance about the baby, the fall had been jarring. And she’d come too far on this journey not to see it through.

A powerful kick widened her eyes—and set her mind at ease. It was almost as if the baby was saying, “Hey, knock off the rough stuff.” But as long as her child was okay, he or she could kick up a storm.

The sound of a door closing down the hall redirected her thoughts. Time to switch gears and figure out how to deal with Luke. After witnessing her meltdown, he wasn’t likely to walk out without asking questions she wasn’t ready to answer. Too bad she hadn’t been alone when the call came in from Detective Layton.

“Everything okay?” He paused on his way to the refrigerator for ice, and gave her an assessing scan.

“Yes. Thanks. Look, you don’t have to hang around. I can take care of my knee.”

He ignored her comment. “Give me a minute and I’ll help you to the couch so you can put your foot up.”

Message: You’re not getting rid of me.

She watched the muscles flex in his broad back as he opened the refrigerator, and her vision once more blurred. She wasn’t used to having anyone wait on her here. Not since Gram had died. Dorothy fed her scones and tea and fussed over her at the shop, but at the cottage she’d been on her own.

Until now.

And it felt good to have someone take care of her.

Her eyes brimmed, and she brushed away the moisture with the back of her hand. Breaking down in front of this man was not an option. If she ever decided to tell him about her past, it would be on her own terms. At a time and place of her choosing. And it would be a controlled, clinical retelling. No emotions. Just the facts, in a neutral location with bright sunlight.

The cozy haven of Gram’s cottage, burnished with the intimate, golden glow of the setting sun, was not that setting.

So she’d let him help her over to the couch. Feign tiredness. And hope he got the hint that she wanted him to leave.

Rejoining her, he set the ice pack on the table and held out his hand. “Okay. Let’s get you on your feet.”

In silence, she placed her hand in his. His lean fingers closed over hers and he pulled her to her feet in one smooth, effortless motion that bunched the impressive muscles below the sleeve of his T-shirt.

A little trill ran along her nerve endings, and she averted her head, irritated. She needed to stick with her plan, not be swayed by hormones that were way out of control at this stage of her pregnancy.

Once she was on her feet, he moved beside her and put his arm around her waist. What there was of it.

“Just lean on me.”

The soft, husky words loosened her tear ducts again.

Hang on, Kelsey! Just get to the couch. Once you’re settled, you can send him on his way.

As they traversed the small living room, she found herself leaning on him a lot more than she’d planned. Her knee was throbbing, and she could feel the skin stretching as it swelled. A tear spilled out of the corner of her eye, and she tried to surreptitiously wipe it away after he eased her onto the soft cushions.

“I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared down the hall. She had no idea where he was going, but the reprieve gave her a chance to regain control.

When he reappeared sixty seconds later, she had herself together. More or less. But he’d been busy, too. Two pillows were tucked under one arm, a lap quilt was draped over the other, and he was holding a box of tissues in one hand and a bottle of Tylenol in the other. He set the quilt by her feet, handed her the tissues and gave the bottle a little shake.

“Is your OB okay with these? They’re generally safe during pregnancy.”

“Yes. She said they were fine, in moderation.”

“Good. They’ll help with the discomfort in your knee.” He set the bottle on the arm of the couch and offered a hand. “Grab hold and I’ll pull you up so I can put these pillows behind you.”

She did as he instructed, trying to ignore the broad, muscular shoulder that brushed hers as he arranged the pillows.

“Okay.” He lowered her gently back, set the ice pack on her knee and draped the quilt over her. “I saw a chicken breast on the counter in the kitchen. Was that supposed to be your dinner?”

She bobbed her head, not trusting her voice.

“I’m not much into cooking, but if you have some eggs, I can handle an omelet.”

He wanted to cook her dinner.

The faucet behind her eyes began to drip again.

“Y-you don’t have to do that. Besides, I’m not hungry anymore.” She’d wanted the comment to sound firm. Instead, the words came out ragged and tear-laced.

“There are a lot of things I don’t have to do, Kelsey. But sometimes you do things because they’re the right thing to do.” His serious gaze held hers for a few seconds, then he lightened his tone. “Do you have eggs and cheese?”

“Yes.”

“How about mushrooms?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Give me five minutes.”

From her propped-up sitting position, she watched him through the pass-through that divided the kitchen from the living room. He worked methodically, with a natural efficiency of motion that came as no surprise. Luke struck her as the kind of man who made every moment count, no matter the task.

While her dinner cooked, he brought a kitchen chair in and set it beside her. Not a good sign. He must be planning to stay while she ate. And how could she tell him to get lost after all he’d done to help her tonight?

When he returned with a fluffy, golden-brown omelet, a glass of milk and some Tylenol tablets, he surprised her by setting the items on the chair beside her.

So he wasn’t planning to sit there after all.

A surge of disappointment took her off guard, and she scrunched the quilt in her fists, doing her best to squelch the unwelcome emotion. She should be glad he was leaving. It was what she’d wanted.

“Do you need anything else?”

She swallowed past the tightness in her throat and shook her head. “No. Thank you. Sorry to put you to all this trouble.”

“It was no trouble, Kelsey.”

He moved to the end of the small sofa, and before she realized his intent he lifted her legs, edged under them, and sat. After lowering them to his lap, he readjusted the ice pack and rested his hands lightly on her quilt-covered legs.

“Go ahead and eat your omelet before it gets cold.” He gestured to the food on the chair beside her. “Then we’ll talk.”

Kelsey stared at him. He expected her to eat while he held her legs? And with the specter of a serious discussion looming?

No way would she be able to choke down even one bite.

When she made no move to pick up the plate, he leaned over and retrieved it for her. “Come on. Try a few bites. You don’t want to insult the cook.”

He smiled at her, his eyes warm and coaxing, his features relaxed and reassuring, as if to say, “You have nothing to fear from me, Kelsey. I’m on your side. You’re safe.”

And truth be told, she did feel safe. And protected. And cared for. More than she had for a very long time. More than she had even prior to that fateful December night.

Maybe it was an illusion. Maybe once Luke heard her story he’d disappear. But for this moment, she decided to take the comfort he was willing to offer. To pretend she wasn’t in this all by herself. To let go of the fear and uncertainty and loneliness, if only for a few minutes.

Lifting her fork, she took a bite of the tender omelet. It was bursting with cheese and mushrooms, and subtly infused with a tang she couldn’t identify.

“This is very good.” She cut off a second bite. “I’m picking up some unusual flavors.”

He grinned. “I raided your spice cabinet. Onion flakes, a dash of tarragon and a few flakes of oregano. My mom makes great omelets, and she loves to experiment. Most of her concoctions succeed, but none of us have ever let her live down the salmon, blue cheese and capers omelet she made a few years ago when I came home on leave.”

“Bad?”

“Awful. Hannah said it stunk, and declared she couldn’t eat anything that smelled that bad. Mom cajoled her into taking one bite, after which she promptly threw up. All over the table. While she crawled off to bed, Dad and I went to IHOP.”

A laugh bubbled up inside Kelsey, and she took another bite, realizing she was wolfing down the simple meal. And wishing she had more. “Your effort is much more palatable.”

“Thanks. I’ve learned that a little risk-taking pays off with omelets. And with life. You just have to be careful not to push the limits so far you end up with a disaster on your hands.”

One glance at his serious demeanor confirmed he wasn’t talking about omelets anymore.

The final bite stuck in her throat, and she picked up her glass of milk to wash it down.

“We need to talk, Kelsey.”

She swallowed and gripped her glass. All at once, the fluffy omelet felt heavy in her stomach, and she had an inkling of Hannah’s reaction to his mother’s bizarre concoction.

“I’ll start.”

At his unexpected comment, she lifted her chin and gave him a wary look.

A few beats of silence passed—as if he were gathering his thoughts…or his courage. Kelsey’s nervousness gave way to curiosity, and her pulse steadied.

“You know I came to Michigan to launch the youth center project.” His resonant baritone voice and calm tone soothed her. “But I also wanted some downtime and solitude after ten years in a pressure-cooker environment. I wanted to lie on a private beach and let the world go by without having to worry about watching my back every minute, or losing sleep over the lives I hadn’t been able to save that day.”

He stroked her leg through the quilt as he spoke, but his attention was on a wall hanging Gram had made, which had occupied the place of honor on the far wall for more than two decades. The sunburst motif featured the three words that had guided Bess Anderson’s life: “Live. Love. Rejoice.”

“Things didn’t work out quite the way I’d hoped, though. First, I discovered I didn’t have a private beach. Then Hannah needed a place to stay. The youth center project also took off—thanks to your publicity efforts—and I didn’t have a spare minute in the day. Finally, most unsettling of all, I found myself worrying about my new neighbor.”

He turned his head toward her, and at his tender expression, her heart melted.

“I didn’t want to worry about you, Kelsey. I fought it every step of the way. Yet the more we worked together, the more you intrigued—and attracted—me. Sparks began to fly. I wanted to know more about you, but you kept me at arm’s length. I’ve learned to recognize fear over these past ten years, and I saw it in you from the beginning. I don’t know why you’re afraid, but I do understand fear. And I know firsthand how it can paralyze a person—in a lot of different ways.”

He clasped his hands together, the muscles in his throat working as he focused on his fingers.

“Five years ago, I was steps away from the danger zone when a roadside bomb exploded. There was carnage everywhere. Three of the guys injured were my friends. I remember frantically moving from one to the other. They were all critical, and I was desperate to help. But I had limited supplies and only two hands. I knew backup wouldn’t get there in time to save any of them. So instead of helping someone else who did have a chance of making it, I fell to my knees next to one of the guys who had a young wife and baby at home, held his hand and cried while he died.”

Luke’s voice choked and he looked away.

Heart aching, Kelsey leaned forward and covered his clenched hands with one of hers. His fingers were ice-cold.

When Luke turned to her, his eyes were haunted. “That was the worst day of my life. I was depressed for weeks, and barely made it through the days. The only way I could survive was to shut down. Stop feeling. I learned to barricade my heart from everyone—including God. To do the job without thinking about personalities. To avoid making friends who could be killed.

“And it worked. It allowed me to cope. I also became the first choice for triage duty. My superiors knew I could make the tough calls, with complete emotional detachment, about who had the best chance of survival. Behind my back, my colleagues called me Doctor Deep Freeze. I was cold and detached and brutally objective in matters of life and death. And I didn’t socialize with my peers. I never again wanted to care about anyone enough to feel the way I did when my buddies died from that roadside bomb.”

As Luke’s mouth settled into a taut line, Kelsey squeezed his clasped hands and spoke in a soft voice. “The cold, clinical man you’re describing isn’t the man I know.”

He looked down at her hand resting on his. Pulling one of his free, he twined his fingers with hers. “Carlos can take the credit for that. Everyone else steered a wide berth around me, but he sought me out. He’d show up with his tray at mealtimes and try to start a conversation. I’d brush him off, but he’d keep talking. Telling me about his childhood here and his grandmother and his ideas for the youth center. His passion and zest for life eventually won me over. And his zeal for the Lord helped me reconnect with my faith and restore my compassion. But unlocking my heart is still a struggle, Kelsey. I’m afraid if I care too much, I could be hurt again. And the next time I might not make it out of the dark tunnel.”

His words roughened, and he cleared his throat as his gaze locked on hers. “I want you to know I’ve never shared any of this with anyone.”

Taken aback, she searched his eyes. “But…why me? We’re not much more than acquaintances.”

“Because I’d like us to be more than that. And because I trust you. Absolutely.”

Overwhelmed, she stared at him, trying to take in the significance of what had just happened.

“I do have one other confession.” A tiny smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “Before she left, Hannah gave me a stern lecture on romance. One of her key points was that if I wanted you to share with me, I had to reciprocate. It’s taken me a while to admit my kid sister is right, and longer still to get up the courage to follow her advice. But you know what? I’m glad I did.”