Her Christmas Protector (10 page)

Still no response. She frowned and said, “My only option is to keep running.” She moved around the desk to pick up her bags.

In the reflection of the window, she noticed Luke had closed his eyes and his lips moved with silent words. She stilled. He was praying. She was awed by the thought that he was asking God for help. “No use praying on my account. God wants nothing to do with me.”

He turned then. “That’s not true, Faith. God loves you very much. And we will figure this out. I need to know everything you can tell me about Vinnie.”

“Luke, this isn’t your problem. This isn’t a military operation for you to understand and execute. This is my life.”

“And I need to get a handle on the situation so we can determine the best course of action.”

“I’m not asking you to help me, Luke. I’m asking you to let me go. Just forget you ever met me.”

He shook his head. “I can’t do that. God brought you into my life for a reason.”

“It was chance that brought me into your life, not God.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.” Since she’d landed in Oregon and met Luke, she’d felt closer to God, thought she’d felt His presence through Luke and Dottie. But why now after all these years?

He considered her words. “Tell me what happened with your marriage.”

To humor him, she complied. She avoided his gaze as shame washed over her. “Vinnie wasn’t what I thought he was when I married him.”

“What did you think he was?”

“I thought he was a good man.” She shrugged. “When my grandfather died, I was so lost and alone. I fell apart. Vinnie worked for the law firm that handled Grandfather’s estate. He was so—smooth. At first, kind and sympathetic. He stayed by my side during the funeral and the following days when so many people came around demanding money. I mistook my gratitude for love. When he asked me to marry him it seemed like the right thing to do. By the time I realized how wrong I’d been about him, it was too late. He’d wanted what marrying me could bring him.”

She glanced at Luke. He sat attentively listening. No one had ever really listened to her before.

“He’d known just how to play me. I was so gullible.”

“Go on,” Luke prodded gently.

“He never quite fit in to the New York social circles. Oh, he got invited to the best parties and had access to the most exclusive clubs, but he couldn’t change the fact that he’d grown up in a blue-collar home in the Bronx. And he became obsessed with me. He wanted to control my every move, who I talked to, where I went. I found myself becoming more and more isolated from the world until I felt like a prisoner in my own home.”

“So you broke free.”

She gave a mirthless laugh. “No, not right away, but I should have. Instead I thought I could change him, make him see how unhealthy his behavior was getting. But the more I tried, the worse he got.” A shudder rippled down her spine. “One day I tried too hard.”

“What did he do?” Luke’s voice sounded gruff and his expression fierce.

Her throat constricted making her unable to continue. She shook her head, wanting to run, to get away from the memories.

“Did he hit you, Faith?”

“He—he hurt—me.” She remembered the look of rage on Vinnie’s face, the sound of his fists slamming into her body, and the pain. The pain that still lingered in her shoulder and her heart.

“Did you tell the police this?”

“Vinnie kept me under lock and key most of the time. I couldn’t go to the police. Besides, he was smart enough not to hit where it would be obvious. At first I tried to understand and believed his promises that it wouldn’t happen again.” She clenched her fists. “I’d turned into one of those women you see in made-for-TV movies. He may have hurt me in so many ways, but he never crushed me.”

She could see the anger in his eyes and the tightening of his jaw. “Faith, you were right to leave him. God would not expect you to stay in an abusive relationship.”

Fresh tears gathered in her eyes. She’d been taught that marriage was for life. No matter what.

His expression softened. He took her hands again. “God loves you, Faith. God did not author the evil that has touched your life. The Bible urges believers to separate from those who hurt them and to create a safe place for themselves. And you’ve done that, Faith.”

“If God loves me, why did He allow it?” Old anger surfaced, clogging her throat. She didn’t understand. She’d tried to be good. A good daughter, a good granddaughter, a good wife. Still He’d taken her parents and then her grandparents away. He hadn’t protected her from Vinnie.

Luke squeezed her hands and looked at her with an earnestness that touched her soul. “I don’t have the answer to that question, Faith. He never promised there wouldn’t be difficult, awful times in our lives, but He promised to be there with us. He knows you and He has cried with you. He has felt your hurt and your anguish. He’s not sitting up in the sky judging you, looking for ways to hurt you. He loves you. He wants you to put your trust in Him.”

The crystal blue of Luke’s eyes shimmered. Faith swallowed as the tears gathered in her own eyes. She wanted to believe Luke’s words, she just felt so uncertain and lost.

“Faith, it wasn’t chance or coincidence that brought you here. I know in my heart that God has a plan for you. You just need to lay down your doubts and trust.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

Luke smiled tenderly. “It takes a leap of faith.”

“I suppose it does.”

She held his gaze and the moment stretched. In the depths of Luke’s eyes, she could see and feel the mercy and grace of God’s love. She felt warmed and cared for and she would take the memories of this moment with her, because, sadly, the situation had not changed. “Luke, I appreciate your words, I really do. But it doesn’t change the fact that I need to leave. And I need to leave now.”

He shook his head. She could feel the tension inside of him. He stood and paced. When he stopped he looked at her with a determined light in his eyes. “We don’t have to decide anything tonight. Tomorrow, after we’ve had a chance to think things through, then we can—” He paused and stepped closer. “We, together, will figure out a way to protect you. You can’t keep running for the rest of your life.”

She stood. “I don’t think—”

“Please, promise me you’ll rest tonight and tomorrow we can deal with all of this.”

Leaving in the morning would be easier. Luke could take her to town; she could stop at the bank and then catch the next bus. “All right.”

Luke looked relieved. He moved to his desk and pulled something from one of the drawers. When he came back to her, he held a leather-bound Bible in his hands. “My father gave this to me when I was a teenager. I’d like you to have it.”

“Oh, Luke, I couldn’t.” Her grandfather had had a beautiful Bible that he’d read from and in those last few weeks she’d taken to reading the psalms to him.

“Please.” He put the book in her hands.

Awed by the gift, Faith ran her finger over the inscription in the bottom right hand corner. TO MY SON, LUKE CAMPBELL.

“I think you’ll find the answers you seek in there.”

Faith’s gaze shot to Luke’s. How did he know? “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“I’ve always been partial to the book of Luke myself.” He grinned.

She laughed. “That sounds like a good place to start.”

Luke’s expression turned serious. “In the morning, we’ll come up with a plan.”

“I need to stay longer.”

“Oh, nice joke. When are you coming back?”

“It’s no joke, Rog.” Luke could picture his friend’s chocolate-brown forehead creased with lines and his black eyes narrowing as silence stretched over the phone line. Though Roger Tumble was his commanding officer, their friendship had been immediate and tight. Each attributed the deep bond to their mutual commitment to God.

In his soft southern drawl, Roger commented, “How much time?”

“End of January.”

“I’ll send you the paperwork. Your mom not doing well?”

“She’s good. Something else has come up.”

“Now, that sounds intriguing. Care to share?”

Luke stared out the window of his office and watched snow fall against the dark sky. Light-colored flecks floated down to earth, blanketing the ground. Good thing he’d stopped Faith from leaving or she’d be trudging through the snow right now. “Not really.”

“Don’t tell me this has anything to do with a woman?”

Luke sighed. “It does.”

“I could have sworn you were a confirmed bachelor. So tell me.”

Luke grimaced. He wasn’t ready to discuss the issue of Faith yet. Not when his emotions were all over the place. “When I see you.”

There was a pause. “If that’s what you want. Give your mother my best.”

“I will. How’s the weekly Bible study going?”

“So, so. It’s not the same without your leadership.”

Luke felt a blast of guilt for leaving the guys in the field for so long.

He’d worked so hard to build a foundation of ministry in his unit; he didn’t want it to flounder.

But right now Faith needed him more.

“Thanks, Roger. I’ll talk with you soon.” He hung up and sat back.

For most of the night, he’d wrestled with his conflicting thoughts about Faith, about the secrets she’d kept and about the potential danger she’d brought to his house. He was angry. Sure. Her presence put his mother in harm’s way. Though, the threat was slim compared to the war he’d been fighting on the other side of the world.

But more, he was hurt that Faith hadn’t confided in him sooner.

Earlier he’d contacted the sheriff and filled him in. Sheriff Bane had checked out the P.I. The Sheriff had assured Luke that Costello had left town. Sheriff Bane said he’d keep an eye out for any other strangers. Also, he’d promised to send a car along the main road at intervals.

After talking to the sheriff, Luke had contacted a local lawyer who said he’d see what he could do legally to protect Faith.

Now all he had to do was convince Faith to stay put and to keep his own heart from falling victim to her.

R
ats! Large rats with heavy feet in the attic. Faith’s pulse raced. Panic rushed in.

Something. Someone was on the roof. Trying to get in. Vinnie?

She scrambled out of bed. She was shaking so hard, she had trouble pulling on her robe and putting her feet into her tennis shoes. At the bedroom door, she paused and listened. The quietness of the hall suggested all was well. But she knew what she’d heard. She hurried to Luke’s door and knocked. No answer.

Biting her lip to keep the panic from overwhelming her, she cautiously went downstairs. Faint streaks of the dawn light splintered through the cracks in the curtains. The frigid air left from the night clawed at her, prickling her skin.

With her hand on the knob leading outside, she paused. The noise she’d heard earlier became recognizable. She stepped outside and followed the steady beat of a hammer around the house until she was standing just below her bedroom window.

On the ground was a pile of clean snow, obviously cleared from the roof. She arched her back and craned her neck to see onto the roof. A male was crouched with a hammer in his hand.

Her shoulders sagged with relief. “Luke, what are you doing?”

The hammering stopped and he stood. “Blocking the vents so the raccoons don’t nest,” he replied.

The dawn light bathed Luke in its frosty glow. He had a cap pulled low over his ears. His usually clean-shaven face showed the night’s growth of beard, making him more rugged and handsome. Traces of snow clung to his work boots and his thick plaid shirt didn’t look nearly warm enough.

“It’s barely five o’clock in the morning. I nearly had a heart attack!”

“Sorry,” he called. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s freezing, not to mention that roof is slick with ice. You’re going to kill yourself up there. Come down.”

He regarded her for a moment. “Worried, are you?”

Heat crawled up her neck. “As I would be of anyone standing on an icy roof.”

With a grin, he stated, “I’ll be done soon. Then we can talk.”

“Fine,” she replied and pulled her robe tighter against the chilly air.

She’d let him talk her into staying last night, but she was determined to leave today. No matter how much she didn’t want to.

The sharp winter sun beat down on Luke. Even though the temperature barely reached thirty degrees, beads of sweat rolled down his back and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.

He’d long since removed his flannel shirt, opting for just a long-sleeved thermal. And now he used the edge of the material to wipe his brow as he stood to stretch his tired muscles. His gaze took in the beauty of the land.

The looming Cascade mountain range covered in lush forests of Ponderosa Pines dusted white was breathtaking. The high desert, though flat, stretched out with a beauty of its own, whether in winter or during the blush of spring or the heat of a dry summer or the turning of the leaves in fall. It didn’t matter the time of year, he loved this land.

Luke knelt down and picked up a tile, turning it over in his hands the same way his conflicted thoughts turned in his head.

He should be back with his unit, fighting the good fight to keep freedom a reality for all human life. Helping the men to keep their faith.

Yet, he wanted to stay here where his life began.

He wanted to fulfill the dream his father had for him. But which father?

His earthly father had wanted him to run this ranch, to carry on the Campbell name and pass on the legacy of love that his parents had built. Blake Campbell had never made his wishes for his son a secret.

His Heavenly Father had wanted Luke to join the military, to serve his country as well as serve God. Luke had never made his faith a secret and he’d gladly done as he felt the Lord wanted of him, never once feeling unsure of his path.

But now Luke
was
unsure. Why had the Lord brought Faith into his life? And why was he so glad?

The tile fell from his hands like a hot coal. Was he falling for Faith? The emotions bouncing around his head and his heart were unfamiliar. And, frankly, it scared him.
Lord, what’s happening? Is this part of Your plan? But why?

He liked Faith and respected her. He admired her courage and strength, was proud of how capable and willing she was to try new things. Her sense of humor and quick wit captivated him. And yes, he was physically attracted to her. Any male with a beating heart and blood in his veins would be. Kissing her had only solidified that attraction.

But falling for her? No way.

Picking up his hammer, he pounded the nails in the last vent with more force than necessary. He had to get perspective here.

It would only complicate matters if he were to pursue any type of relationship with Faith beyond that of friend. She had baggage in her past that needed to be dealt with, and he had a life to sort out. It wouldn’t work for them to get involved.

He was a man used to being in control. He could control himself, all of him, including his emotions.

Awareness brushed over him as Faith walked outside again. As if the world had suddenly slowed on its axis, he stood to watch her walk to the fence. Three llamas trotted instantly to her side.

Sunlight danced off her girlish ponytail, making her look young and carefree. His throat constricted, trapping his breath in his chest, painfully expanding his lungs. It pleased him to see she wore the down parka he’d picked up for her in town. Much better suited to the climate than the thin wool coat she’d arrived in.

Suddenly the fence railing inches from Faith exploded with a dull thud, splintering the wood into flying junks. The llamas scattered. Faith yelped and crouched low, covering her head with her hands. Close to her feet, dirt and snow sprayed out as something hit the ground.

Gunfire!

Panic seized Luke’s lungs. His gaze frantically searched for the shooter as he stepped forward. On the main road a dark green pickup screeched away.

Luke’s foot slipped on the slick roof and he realized he’d made a mistake. He went down hard on his backside, then onto his back. His hands flayed hopelessly in search of something to grab, his body plummeted down the roof, the edges of each tile biting into his flesh. His teeth ground together in sharp pain.

From below him, he heard Faith’s cry of alarm.

The gutter rushed at him and he grabbed hold, but one end of the metal gave way with a loud wrenching creak. His grip failed and he was free-falling again.

Then he hit the snow-covered ground with a dull thud and a loud groan. The last thing he saw before his eyes slid shut was the hunk of gutter swaying over his head.

He was dead.

Fear constricted Faith’s heart, forced the air from her lungs. She ran to him, to his limp body on the snow-covered ground.

“Oh, please don’t let him be dead.”

Putting her fingers against his neck, she felt a strong pulse beating a steady rhythm and momentary relief eased her panic.

He wasn’t dead.

“Luke? Luke, can you hear me?”

She quickly searched his body for broken bones. There didn’t seem to be any obvious fractures. But his head…she stifled a sob.

“Luke—” her voice trailed off and tears sprang to her eyes. “God, let him be all right, please.”

With jerky, harsh movements, she wiped away her tears.
He’s not going to die,
she admonished herself gruffly. God would not do that to Luke.

He needed help and she was his only hope. She stood and turned to run, but a hand wrapped around her ankle nearly toppled her over. She screamed before noticing Luke regarding her with pain-filled eyes. Immediately she knelt beside him.

“I have to go—get h-help.” Her voice broke.

“I’m—okay,” he croaked on a deep breath before wincing.

Faith smoothed a hand over his brow. “You’re hurt.”

“Minor scrapes and bruises.”

“You might have a broken back or neck, even.”

“The snow broke my fall,” he quipped. “Are you okay?”

A ripple of terror ran through her. “Yes. Thankfully he was a bad shot.”

“Not meant to kill, only scare.”

“Well, then, he did a good job. Let me go get help.” She moved to rise again, but his hand gripped her arm.

“You help me.”

“Luke, you shouldn’t move, not until the ambulance comes.”

He closed his eyes. “I’ve fallen off that roof more times than I can count. It just knocked the wind out of me.”

“I don’t know.” She looked him over, unconvinced. “I still think I should get a doctor.”

With a groan, Luke pushed himself up on to his elbows. His eyes scrunched up tight and his mouth thinned. The scar on his jaw paled. His visible pain made her nauseous.

With infinite care, he sat. The rip in his shirt revealed a raw cut on his shoulder. So much red. The sight of his blood turned her stomach. It could have been so much worse. For both of them.

And that’s when it hit her.

If anything happened to Luke she knew her heart wouldn’t survive.

She helped him stand and when his arm settled around her shoulders, she staggered slightly as she bore the brunt of his weight.

They entered the house and Faith steered him to a chair at the kitchen table. “Do you have a first-aid kit somewhere? We need to clean your wounds.”

Grimacing, he lowered himself to the chair. “I need the phone.”

She handed the phone over and clenched her hands together as he called the sheriff to explain what had happened.

When he hung up, she asked, “Do you think they’ll catch him?”

“We can pray so.” He started to rise. “I have a first-aid kit in my room.”

She rushed to support him as they made their way upstairs. “Should I get your mother? She was sleeping when I came outside.”

“If she didn’t hear anything, let’s not upset her.”

Pushing open the door of his bedroom, she realized she’d never before seen his domain. His masculine scent swirled around her, heightening her already taut senses.

He pointed to the closet. “My first-aid kit’s in there.”

The kit sat on the floor of the closet next to his cowboy boots. She also grabbed a soft-looking blue flannel shirt off the hanger. On the verge of closing the door, her gaze snagged on a blur of green.

It hit her like a punch in the stomach.

These were his military clothes—camouflage fatigues with his name sewn on the breast pocket and a dark green suit. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, the medals and ribbons were eye-catching.

At the reminder of his life outside the ranch an ache in the vicinity of her heart stole her breath away. Resolutely, she turned away, telling herself she shouldn’t be upset. She’d known from the beginning that Luke was only a temporary fixture in her life. One day soon he’d be leaving, going back to a job where worse than a fall from a roof could happen. Where his life would be in danger every second.

Masking her distress, she moved back to the bed and set the kit down. The case easily opened with a click and she pulled out the supplies she needed. Unable to meet Luke’s gaze, she handed him two painkillers. “I’ll go get you some water.”

Luke shook his head. “Not necessary.” He popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry.

The large cut on his shoulder needed her attention first. She helped him to remove his shirt and forced her gaze to stay on the cut, not on the width of his shoulders and muscles on his arms. Thankful for something to keep her mind and hands busy, she doused a cotton pad with an antiseptic. Before applying the pad to his skin, she said, “This may sting.”

He nodded and she placed the soaked pad against his flesh.

Luke closed his eyes but made no noise.

Taking her lip between her teeth, Faith continued to bathe the wound, wondering at his ability to take the pain. Once the area was free from the dried blood, she used butterfly bandages to close the gap.

Tenderly, she began to tend to the various other bloodied scrapes. A nasty looking scar on his right shoulder caught her attention. The skin puckered and drew inward around what appeared to have been some sort of hole. Faith went rigid.

An image of her bodyguard flashed in her mind. With shaky hands, she touched the imperfect flesh. Hoping it wasn’t what she feared, she asked, “What is this?”

Luke shrugged. “Got too close to a pitchfork one day.”

“A pitchfork,” she repeated, her voice breaking.

His head swiveled around and he stared at her for a long tense moment. Faith looked back at him steadily, knowing his flippant remark was meant to deflect, but she was unwilling to push for the truth.

Still holding her gaze, he stated flatly, “It’s a bullet wound.”

Having the truth confirmed did nothing to ease the distress she felt. She placed her hand over the scar as if she could somehow erase the proof of his mortality.

Feeling his gaze on her again, she lifted her eyes and met his intense look. In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “Tell me about your life in the army.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You want to know about the good parts or the not-so-good parts?”

“All the parts.”

“War is ugly.” A bleakness entered his expression and the look tore at her heart.

“Where were you when 9/11 happened?” she asked.

“At the time I was stationed in Birmingham, Alabama.”

“And then?”

“Afghanistan. Operation Enduring Freedom. I agree with why we went, but I still have to live with the memories.”

With a gentle touch she caressed his cheek, wishing she could take away his pain. “How
do
you live with the memories?”

“I release them to Jesus.”

She marveled at his trust and dedication to the Lord. She didn’t completely understand, but she admired his faith. Maybe one day she’d be as certain of God as Luke was.

“I’m sorry you had to see any fighting at all,” she commented softly.

He gave her an odd look.

“What?”

The moment stretched and then finally he spoke as if she’d opened the floodgates to a dam, his words tumbled out, his voice a rough, raw rasp. She could see his torment, could hear the anguish in his tone.