Heart of the wolf (15 page)

As she hobbled to the master bathroom, across from the bed, Sarah realized that some of her shock over the past six months had to do with the fact that she'd come up against something she couldn't deal with successfully on her own. She leaned the crutches next to the door and closed it. The pain made her compress her lips as she leaned down to start the bathwater running.

Later, as she allowed herself the luxury of a long, hot bath, Sarah realized that Wolf was symbolic to her, too. But how far could she trust him? She'd trusted her father to be there for her, and he had been ripped from her life. She'd turned to her mother, and she, too, had abandoned her—in a different way. Wiping the perspiration off her brow, Sarah sat up and scrubbed her pink skin with the lilac-scented soap. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she did trust Wolf. Did she have any choice? She frowned as she stood up and pulled the plug. Did she want a choice? After toweling dry, Sarah brushed her teeth, combed her hair and pulled on a pair of well-worn denims and a pink tank top. She tried to ignore the horribly swollen and bruised feet sticking out from beneath her jeans. Because Wolf was a paramedic, the doctor had told her to let him wrap her feet morning and night.

Her heart began beating more strongly as she hobbled down the hall on her crutches, Ace bandages sticking out of her back pockets. Skeet met her halfway, his large yellow eyes shining, his huge, brushy tail waving back and forth in greeting. Sarah smiled and stopped to pet him.

"You're looking happy this morning," Sarah told the dog as she continued into the living room. Ahead, she saw Wolf's broad back as he worked in the kitchen. Her stomach growled. She was starving! How long had it been since she was this hungry? A long time, she realized.

Her pulse was doing funny things as she hobbled to the entrance of the kitchen. Wolf was busy working at the counter, cracking eggs as the bacon sputtered in a skillet on the stove. The table was set for two. He glanced over his shoulder, and her heart skittered violently as his gray eyes narrowed on her.

"Morning," Wolf said. "Come and sit down. I've got breakfast almost ready." Wolf tried to keep his voice unruffled. Sarah had never looked prettier. The pink tank top brought out the natural flush in her cheeks. He was glad to see that she looked rested. He hadn't slept at all well last night after their midnight tea, because he'd kept rehashing their conversation in his mind.

Sarah gave him a slight smile of welcome and moved slowly into the kitchen. Wolf's hair was recently washed and combed, the kitchen light bringing out the blue highlights in the shiny strands. His skin was scraped free of the beard that had darkened his face since around 5:00 p.m. yesterday. He looked less forbidding without it, Sarah decided as Wolf pulled out a chair for her to sit on.

"Thanks," she whispered, meaning it. Philip had never been this thoughtful, but then, Sarah reminded herself, Philip hadn't been as old or mature as Wolf, either. She sat down carefully, placing the two huge Ace bandage rolls on the table. She wished her heart would settle down.

"How are the feet this morning?" Wolf asked as he poured the scrambled eggs into the skillet. Glancing at Sarah, he saw her poor feet stuck out in front of her, black-and-blue and swollen.

"Better."

His mouth twisted, and he turned his attention to scrambling the eggs.
"Really?"

Sarah heard the irony in his voice. "Well. . ."

"You can tell me the truth, you know."

She stared hard at his back, which was covered now by his dark green work shirt.

"They hurt," she admitted.

"How much?"
Wolf lifted the skillet off the stove and divided the scrambled eggs between the two plates on the table. He saw the darkness in Sarah's eyes.
"A lot of pain?"

She nodded.

"After breakfast I'll wrap your feet so you won't be in as much pain," he said soothingly. Placing the skillet in the sink's soapy dishwater, Wolf brought over the plate of fried bacon, as well as some toast. He set them down and pulled up a chair opposite Sarah.

"Dig in," he invited. Suddenly an unexpected rush of happiness filled him, and he marveled at how glad he was that she was here to grace this old kitchen. She had a healthy appetite, and he was glad to see her eat. Skeet sat nearby, thumping his tail, looking for a handout.

"Don't give him anything," Wolf warned.

Sarah grinned over at the dog who sat a foot away from her. "He's got such a wistful look on his face, Wolf. How could you not feed him?"

"Harden your heart and tell him no. He's already been fed this morning."
A
grudging smile came to Wolf's mouth as he buttered a piece of toast then slathered red raspberry jam across it. He envied Skeet's ability to make Sarah smile. What could he do to make her smile—or maybe even laugh? Hell, ever since they'd met, it had been one crisis after another. Not much room for laughter or play. As Wolf munched on the toast, he realized that in the past year of his life he'd become so accustomed to living in crisis mode that he hadn't even noticed until this moment what he was missing.

With Sarah present, Wolf felt lighter, happier, than he could remember being in a long time. Maybe he was finally ready to come out of that long tunnel of grief. When Sarah looked up at him, laughter dancing in her dark blue eyes, Wolf felt his heart explode with joy.

"Harden my heart? Really, Wolf. I never could get tough with kids or animals." She wrinkled her nose and chuckled as she picked up the jar of jam. "I guess
I
should include insects, too. I never could smash an ant or get hyper about a spider crawling around, either."

"Good Indian traits," Wolf said, forcing himself to chew his toast. A winsome smile touched Sarah's mouth, and he felt himself drowning in the blueness of her sunlit eyes, and absorbed the moment like a greedy thief. The need to be liked ate away at Wolf. Sarah wasn't afraid of him, didn't look at him with terror in her eyes, as Maria had after. . . With a sigh, Wolf forced the memories away.

"What are good Indian traits?" Sarah teased. She couldn't help but enjoy Wolf's company. The cabin had been so lonely for the past six months—she'd been starved for the chance to share with another person. The corners of Wolf's mouth drew into a slight smile at her question, and a sheet of warmth flowed through her.

"Most Indians see the world as connected," Wolf explained. "The Cherokees have a saying—All my relations. It means we honor the connection between the bird that flies in the air and the fish that swims in the water and the beetle that makes her home in the ground. Medicine people say they can see a river of light Sowing in and around everything, and for
them, that
proves this connection theory.”

"I like that viewpoint," Sarah said thoughtfully. "I worry about digging sapphires because it exposes the tree roots." She shrugged and sipped the fragrant black coffee. "At least I put the dirt back to save the trees. Summers uses hack hoes and bulldozers to rip the trees out to get at the sapphire gravel. He's left a path of destruction all across Blue Mountain."

"I noticed that the other day," Wolf said. "Sure you aren't part Indian?"

She laughed and picked up a strand of her hair. "With this
hair,
and blue eyes? Give me a break!"

Sarah's laughter touched Wolf's heart like a healing balm. It was a low, husky laugh filled with delight, and Wolf smiled fully in response.

"Where did your folks come from?" he asked as he pushed his empty breakfast plate aside in favor of his coffee cup. Suddenly he was eager to learn every detail about Sarah.

"My dad is a mixture of English and Scottish. My mom is mostly Dutch." She smiled fondly. "I've got Mom's hair and Dad's eyes."

"You have beautiful skin, too," Wolf offered. Sarah's fair complexion was the color of thick cream.

Sarah flushed and raised a hand to her flaming cheek. "Thanks," she said softly. Wolf's eyes burned with a desire that sent a ribbon of heat through her. So why had
he pushed her away from him yesterday? Allowing her hand to drop, she pretended to be interested in clearing the plates away.

Wolf felt Sarah's discomfort. Was it because she wasn't used to being complimented? Or was it him that made her uncomfortable? Uncertain, Wolf said, "Time's getting late. I want to wrap your feet before I leave."

"Sure," Sarah muttered, and she pushed her chair away from the table. She watched Wolf unwind from his chair, thinking how stalwart he was. He was a man of incredible strength, not only in the physical sense, but emotionally, too. As she handed him the first Ace bandage, his fingers touched hers. A delightful sensation skittered along her hand, and she swallowed convulsively.

Wolf knelt and gently lifted Sarah's foot. Her ankle was so delicate, yet her calf was firmly developed from her hard physical work. "You're in good shape," he said as he rested the heel of her foot on his thigh.

Shaken by his touch, Sarah struggled to gather her strewn thoughts. "Thanks. . ." She watched, mesmerized, as Wolf's callused hand flowed carefully across her foot, examining it intently.

"They look a little better this morning," Wolf commented, feeling like a thief as he ran his hand in a practiced manner across her swollen extremity. He began to wrap her injured foot with the sureness born of much experience.

"You said you were a paramedic," Sarah said.

"Yeah."

Wolf's single-syllable response was cold, but somehow Sarah didn't mind the rebuff. Wolf was obvious about letting her know when she asked the wrong question, but she sensed it wasn't a bluff. "Where were you one?" she persisted.

Wolf glanced up at her, frowning. He returned to wrapping her foot, and the moments dragged by. Finally he sighed and said, "The Marine Corps."

"You're a marine?"

He saw the surprise and pride in her eyes.
"Was."

"For how long?"

Wolf felt his gut tighten. "Eight years."

"Did you like it?"

"Yes."

Frustrated, Sarah eyed him. "Wolf, you're about as open as a locked safe, do you know that?"

He had the good grace to blush under her fervent observation. "It just comes naturally, honey. I can't help it," he said, trying to lighten his tone.

"Why not?"
Sarah tried to ignore the endearment, although it tugged at her heart.

Wolf realized Sarah wasn't going to back off this time. He finished wrapping her foot, pleased with his handiwork. Then he lifted her other foot and began to work on it. "I was a recon marine, and they specialize in certain areas. I liked the medical area, so I took paramedic school a long time ago," he said quietly, keeping his eyes on her foot.