Love Inspired February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Cowboy's Reunited Family\The Forest Ranger's Return\Mommy Wanted (22 page)

He couldn't help enjoying being near Julie again. Gone was the little girl he once knew, replaced by an educated, beautiful, confident woman. But escalating his involvement with the ranger might prove deadly to his heart. He'd do it anyway, starting with his morning run. Like a freight train running out of track, he couldn't stop now. Developing Gilway Trail would benefit the amputee kids, and jogging with Julie would help keep her safe. It would also give him an opportunity to find out about her life.

He just hoped he didn't regret it all later on.

* * *

Julie sat at her desk and jotted some notes to herself. Trying to focus on work. Trying to stop thinking about the man who had just left her office.

Her body trembled. Several times, she'd been ready to blurt out the truth. That she remembered Dal, the plans they'd made and the hopes they'd shared. But that had all been ruined by one of her foster dads. A horrible, smelly man who had stolen her innocence and trust.

Focus, Julie. Don't think about the past. Just move forward. You're safe now. You don't need anyone but yourself.

She tugged her thoughts back to her work. First thing, she should have Shauna draft an advertisement for an open meeting to put in the local newspaper. She could imagine some of the concerns the local people might have about Dal's proposed project, and she planned to prepare beforehand. There was plenty of time for that. She'd know more once she viewed the trail with Dal in a few days.

Next, she should begin a preliminary environmental assessment and consider the animals that might be impacted by this change. Desert bighorn sheep. Rocky Mountain mule deer. Canadian geese....

She stopped writing, her hands shaking. The pen dropped to the desk. She laced her fingers together in a tight grip. Resting her elbows on top of her yellow lined notepad, she leaned her forehead against her fists and exhaled a tight breath.

This is just work. Just a very nice, attractive man you used to know. No need to be upset. It's just business.

She tried to reason with herself. Tried to calm the anxious feelings rumbling around inside her mind. She'd overcome so much in her past and thought she'd learned to deal with men one-on-one. But maybe not. For some reason, Dal Savatch touched on old memories she thought were long buried. He was one of the few men who had tried to protect her from being hurt, even if he had been merely a boy at the time. So why did his presence bother her so intensely?

She knew. She didn't need to ask herself the question. She liked him and longed to confide in him. She wanted to be friends with him again. Maybe more than friends. But she couldn't. Not now, not ever. So she was upset. Because of the shame and uncertainty of her past, she didn't know how he might take the truth of what had happened to her.

The fear.

Pushing her chair back, she stood and slid past her desk to stand in front of the only window in her office. She used her thumb and index finger to widen the slatted blinds and peered outside at the empty parking lot. No sign of Dal's old pickup truck. Just her compact car and a few other vehicles that belonged to her staff members. Not a single person in sight.

Dal was fast, she'd give him that. And light on his feet. For the entire length of their meeting, she'd completely forgotten about his amputation. Until he'd left. And even then, she couldn't believe how easily he moved. Smooth, graceful and masculine. Like he had no impediment at all.

She had nothing to worry about. No need to feel distressed by his presence in her office. And if he finally remembered who she was, she could act surprised and brush it off. For now, she'd focus on her work, help develop the trail and campsite and nothing more. She didn't expect anything else, and neither did Dal.

Or did she?

That was just the problem. In spite of her reasoning and resolve, she wanted more. For the first time in twenty years, she wished...

No! She didn't need a man in her life. She didn't need anyone. She'd done just fine on her own. A solid education, a comfortable home and a challenging career. If she got close to Dal again, he'd want an explanation as to why she'd stopped writing and calling. Her reasons were her own, and she couldn't talk about them with him. It had taken a gargantuan effort just to discuss her sexual abuse with her psychologist. Telling an old boyfriend about it was impossible. Being by herself was for the best. No complications. No angst. No pain.

But maybe that was all wrong. Maybe she should put herself out there with Dal and see what life might bring her way. Maybe...

No! She whirled away from the window and returned to her desk. Plopping down into her chair, she picked up the pen, leaned over the desk and forced herself to write.

Vegetation impacts. Juniper. Aspen. Willows. Indian paintbrush. Snowberry....

She dropped the pen again and stared at the notepad. Moisture blurred the words in front of her eyes. She dashed the tears away, thinking she was being silly and emotional.

Jerking open the top drawer of her desk, she gazed at a picture of her parents. She kept it close by so she could look at them any time she liked. So she wouldn't forget. But she didn't leave the picture sitting out on her desk. Not where other people might see and start asking personal questions.

Why did Dal have to reenter her life? Why now? Over the years, she'd coped with being on her own. She'd dealt with her insecurities and fears. Hadn't she?

Apparently not. At least not since Dallin Savatch had rushed back into her life.

She owed him an explanation. Her unexplained silence hadn't been fair to him. If he knew the truth, he'd understand. He'd forgive her. But she couldn't utter the words. Not now. Not ever.

Snapping the drawer closed, she reached for her purse. She had to get out of here. Had to clear her head.

Her fingers tightened around the straps as she slung the bag over her shoulder and stood. Gathering up a pile of files she'd set aside earlier, she walked to the door.

She was a mature, professional woman, not a vulnerable little girl anymore. Dal Savatch needed her help. She could assist him and Sunrise Ranch. That was all. Other than offering to run with her in the mornings, Dal hadn't suggested anything more. He didn't even remember her. She was making too much out of this situation.

Wasn't she?

Walking down the hallway, she paused at Shauna's desk long enough to tell the woman she was going home. And tomorrow afternoon, she'd drive out to Sunrise Ranch and visit with Lyn Baldwin. She'd spoken to the former ranger a couple days earlier by phone, and Lyn had told her to stop by anytime. Julie wanted to discuss several projects Lyn had been working on during her time as ranger. Hopefully, Lyn could clarify a few things for Julie.

In the process, Julie also hoped she might gain more insight into Dal Savatch. What it was about the man that she still found so appealing. And why she feared becoming friends with him again. Maybe then Julie could finally reconcile herself with the past and get the man off her mind.

Then again, maybe not.

Chapter Three

A
t 5:33 the next morning, Julie flipped off the kitchen light and stepped out onto her front porch. Hazy sunlight filtered past her neighbors' dew-laden lawns. She breathed deep of the crisp air and shivered, wondering if she'd need a jacket for her daily jog. She decided no, that her exercise would soon make her hot and the breeze would cool her off.

Looking up, she froze.

Dal Savatch stood leaning against a tall cottonwood on the opposite side of her white picket fence. Dressed like her in runner's shoes and shorts, he rested his weight on his good leg. With his arms folded, his large biceps stretched his gray T-shirt tight. Even as a teenager, he'd been well built, with muscles any girl would admire. But the fully grown man he'd become almost made Julie drool.

As the screen door clapped closed behind her, he lifted his head. Even from this distance, she could feel his penetrating stare like a physical blow. Lowering his arms, he stepped away from the tree. He paused at the gate, not entering the perimeter of her yard, but waiting for her to come down the front steps and join him.

“It's a bit early for a visit. What are you doing here?” she asked, trying not to sound curt.

“Waiting for you. Remember, I promised to run with you.”

“You don't need to do that, Dal. It's a long distance out of your way.” Yes, she remembered his promise, but she hadn't expected him to keep it. Not really.

“I want to.” He blinked, as though embarrassed by his admission.

He reached over and lifted the latch before pushing the gate open for her.

“Thanks.” She stepped onto the sidewalk.

His gentlemanly manners reminded her of the conscientious boy he'd always been. When other boys had paid their girlfriends little mind, Dal had rushed ahead to open doors for her, had brought her yellow roses from his mother's flower garden, had said please and thank-you. In high school, Julie had been the envy of every other girl. Because she'd had Dal.

“So how long have you been waiting here?” She walked to the tree he'd vacated and braced her hands against the coarse trunk before stretching her calf muscles. Trying to appear unaffected by his presence.

“Not long,” he said.

“You could have come inside the house.”

“No, I didn't want to intrude until you were ready to go.”

But what did he want? And why did his presence unnerve her so much?

“How far do you usually run?” She made small talk, avoiding the real questions pounding in her brain. Thank goodness he didn't remember her and their whispered promises to each other twenty years earlier. Part of her longed for him to recognize her. The part that still cared for him and wished he felt the same.

Puppy love, her mom had called it before she'd died. But Julie had never felt anything so real before or since.

“I usually run six miles. And you?” Taking a position on the opposite side of the tree, he braced his left hand against the trunk, then bent the knee of his good leg up toward his back and caught the ankle with his right hand. He tugged gently to stretch out his quadriceps.

“Usually five miles. I don't have time for more,” she said.

A whoosh of air escaped his lips as he released his leg. “Then we'll run five today. Do you have some preferred routes you usually take?”

She nodded, pressing her left arm across the front of her body and holding it for the count of ten. “I measured the distance with my car's odometer the first week I arrived in town. Because of my move to Stokely, I wasn't able to run for a couple of weeks. I was eager to get back to it...and then I hurt my ankle.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Exercise is addictive. I get antsy whenever I miss a day or two,” he said.

So much for small chat. She kept warming up, concentrating on her movements, trying to think of something more intelligent to say. But maybe it was best if they stuck to the trivial stuff.

“I told Cade and Lyn about our plans to view Gilway Trail on Friday. They're excited about this project. So am I,” he said.

“Good. Me, too.” And she meant it. The thought of doing something positive to help the amputee kids at Sunrise Ranch gave her a good feeling inside. As if her life's work meant something important, even though she had no family to share it with.

She finished her warm-up routine and stood watching him.

“Shall we?” He indicated the black asphalt.

With a nod, she stepped off the curb and ran down the side of the street. He followed, keeping pace beside her.

At the corner, she looked both ways, then crossed the street and headed outside of town. Her body felt jittery, wanting to run faster than normal. She made a conscious effort to hold to her usual pace. Dal adjusted easily, his steady breathing a comforting sound beside her.

They didn't speak much until they reached the turnoff to Sunrise Ranch. Without breaking stride, Dal pointed toward the mountains on the south side. “That's the trailhead at Gilway.”

“Okay, we'll take a closer look on Friday.” As they reached the dirt road, she pointed at a yield sign. “This is my two-and-a-half-mile marker. Time for me to turn back.”

He nodded and went with her.

“You don't have to return with me, Dal. You've probably already gotten in more than six miles today.”

“I don't mind.”

He kept running, and she had no choice but to keep up.

“You always were so persistent,” she said.

He jerked his head toward her, his eyes narrowed slightly. “How would you know that?”

Her face heated up like road flares. Without thinking, she'd given herself away. She'd never been much good at pretending and she detested keeping secrets, with good reason. Something she'd been forced to do for eight months when she'd been barely sixteen years old. Until her social worker had figured things out and yanked Julie out of a horrible foster home. But not before her foster dad had hurt her and destroyed her faith in humanity.

Dal stopped dead in the middle of the road and lifted his hands to his hips. He looked at her, a mix of anger and relief covering his face. “Don't you think it's time we both stop pretending we don't remember each other?”

She released a gasp of air and came to a standstill. “I'm sorry, Dal. I—I didn't know what to say. I wanted to move on. I just didn't think it mattered anymore.”

“Well, it does. And I've still got some questions you may not want to answer.”

Her mind raced as she tried to slow her heavy breathing. Those old feelings of dread and fear seeped through every pore in her body. Like a caged and wounded tiger faced by a hunter carrying a loaded rifle. “Like what?”

“Like why you stopped writing me. And why you wouldn't return my phone calls. What happened, Julie? You just disappeared off the face of the earth. Why did you abandon me?”

Her gaze clashed, then locked with his. In his eyes, she saw all the anguish she'd caused him. All the pain she herself felt inside. “I never meant to hurt you, Dal. Please believe I didn't have a choice. Not really.”

“No choice?” His voice escalated, betraying his anger. “You cut off all communication with me. Without any justification at all. Why?”

“I had my reasons. That's all I can say.”

“You owe me an explanation, Julie. We didn't even break up.”

“I thought it was for the best. We were living in separate towns by then and rarely saw each other.”

“But we talked by phone almost every day. Until you stopped taking my calls. Why? Why did you do that?”

“I—I didn't want to talk about it then.”

His mouth dropped open and he raked his fingers through his short hair, showing his frustration. “So let's talk about it now.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“No?” He sounded hurt and furious at the same time. “Oh, come on, Julie. You can't ignore me again. I'm here. Flesh and blood. You can't hide from me anymore.”

She wanted to cry. To beg his forgiveness for hurting him. To crawl in a hole and hide. “Please, Dal. Let it go. Talking about it reminds me of ugly things I'd rather forget.”

“So that's it?” His jaw hardened, a look of incredulity on his handsome face.

Julie wished she could give him more. Wished things could be so much different. But they weren't. And they never would be again.

Tightening her resolve, she nodded. “That's it.”

He hesitated, as though thinking this over. Standing in the middle of the road facing each other, the sound of rustling trees filled the void. After years of regret and longing for something more, Julie realized how utterly alone she was. She'd never felt so empty inside.

So hollow and bereft.

“No, I can't accept that,” he said. “I have a few ugly things from my past I'd rather forget, too. But I want you to know something, Julie. After the last time I drove to Tulsa to see you for your sixteenth birthday, I never forgot about you. Not ever.”

Oh, that hurt. Her stomach tightened with guilt and regret. He'd been so good to her, and look how she'd treated him. The only person in the world who had really cared about her. After what she'd gone through, she'd wanted to call him. So many times. To beg for his help. To ask him to take her away. But what could he have done for her? A kid from nowhere, just like her. They weren't even legal adults. With no money, no education, no real jobs and no way to change the life they'd been thrust into.

She wanted to tell him about it now, but couldn't. It wouldn't change the outcome. She couldn't confide in him something so horrible that just thinking about it caused her to shake as if it had happened only moments before. All the humiliation and embarrassment came rushing back. Right here, right now.

Instead, she turned and walked toward home. He fell into step beside her, silent and brooding. She felt his disapproval like a leaden weight. This discussion wasn't over. Someday soon, she knew she'd have to offer him an explanation. The silence soon became deafening.

“How's your mom doing, Dal?”

He lowered his head an inch, staring straight ahead. “Mom passed away while I was in Afghanistan.”

His voice sounded harsh and indignant.

“I'm so sorry. She was such a dear woman.”

“Yeah, she was. But I believe she's at peace now. Losing Dad when I was so young was always hard on her.”

“Did you ever marry and have kids?” She shouldn't have asked, but she really wanted to know.

“No. I was engaged once, but...it didn't work out. She didn't want me after... After the war.”

He glanced down at his leg, and Julie understood. His fiancée hadn't wanted him after he'd become an amputee. He'd become damaged goods, just like Julie. She wished Dal had found happiness with someone. He deserved a life of joy. So did she, but that didn't make it so.

She kept walking. Ignoring her wobbling knees. Wishing he'd leave her alone and forget they'd ever found each other again. It was easier that way. Less heartache. Less emotions.

Less to lose.

He stayed beside her. Just as relentless as the day she'd refused to go to the movies with him until he'd asked her out five times. Finally, she'd conceded out of frustration. And that had been the beginning of the best memories of her life.

But that was then and this was now. They couldn't go back. She couldn't get close to this man again. And that was that.

* * *

Why wouldn't Julie talk to him? Dal couldn't figure her out. All the past years stretched vacant before them, and she refused to offer a single explanation as to what had happened to her. Or why she'd turned her back on him.

Why she'd stopped loving him.

He remembered the night her parents had died with perfect clarity. The authorities figured her dad had been driving the car when they'd hit a deer on the dark interstate. Julie had been out on a date with Dal. They'd gone to the movies and then for cheeseburgers and fries at the local drive-in. Not wanting to face her dad's deep frown, Dal had brought her home five minutes before curfew...and found Sheriff Levy waiting on her front doorstep.

The weeks afterward had been a numbing whirl of grief. The funeral and burial. Julie had no other family. No one to provide her with a home. Dal had even begged his mother to take Julie in, but Mom couldn't. Working as a cook on the ranch where they lived, there was no extra room for Julie. Even with Dal's after-school job at the local grocery store, they barely made ends meet. Mom insisted that Julie would have a better life in foster care. Dal hadn't agreed, but he'd had little choice in the matter.

For a few months, Julie had stayed with a kind family in their hometown. She and Dal had been inseparable. She hadn't discussed her feelings over her parents' death, but he'd been there for her. Every day. Just to let her know he loved her and that everything would be all right.

Then the social worker had moved Julie to a foster home in Tulsa, eighty-seven miles away. It might as well have been eight hundred miles. At first, they'd written and called each other every chance they got. Not so easy without cell phones.

In thirteen months' time, the distance between them had done nothing to dim their love. Dal figured that was how it is when you find your soul mate. He even took the bus to visit her twice. He'd never forget her haunted expression or the way she'd clung to him when it had come time for him to leave. By then, she'd seemed so withdrawn and reserved.

That'd been the last time he'd seen her. Three weeks later, he couldn't reach her by phone. Her foster mom had told him she'd been moved and was living with someone else now, but she didn't know who. When Julie's letters had stopped coming, he'd called Social Services to see if she was okay. But they'd refused to tell him anything. It was confidential information, they'd said.

Dal had known something had happened to Julie besides her parents dying. Something bad.