Soldier on Her Doorstep (5 page)

Lisa and Lilly only had each other now, and if she wanted the cabin fixed up he was happy to be of assistance. It was
his duty
to be there for them, to serve them.

Part of him hoped that staying, doing what he could, would help him put some demons to rest. But even if it only gave him peace of mind for a short time it would be a welcome reprieve from the guilt he had lived with of late.

He looked up at the cabin. It was shabby, there was no denying it, but it was habitable. Plus the view was incredible. Deciding to stay here might be the best decision he'd made in a long time.

He was officially discharged from the army, and he had no idea what he wanted to do. There was enough money in his savings account to keep him going for a while—a very long while—and he didn't want to start anything until his head was clear.

He just wanted to work with his hands. Fish. Chill.

And preferably not get too attached to his host family if he could help it.

“Morning.”

He looked up. Lisa was watching him. She was dressed, but she still had that early morning glow. Her hair was wet, hanging down over her shoulders, leaving a damp mark on her T-shirt that he could see from here. She was nursing a cup of something hot.

“Morning,” he replied. He reached for his own T-shirt, tucked into the back of his jeans, and tugged it on.

“You've been busy,” she remarked.

He stepped back and looked at the mess he'd made. “Too much?”

She laughed. “I don't think any amount of work in or around that cabin could be called too much.”

He wasn't used to casual chat with a woman anymore, but he was starting to warm to her. She was so easy, so relaxed. As if she expected nothing from him. Yet he knew she'd expect more. An answer. An explanation.

He swallowed the worry.

“You ready for some breakfast?”

His stomach doubled over in response. “I didn't want to go poking around in the cupboards.”

She motioned with her hand for him to follow. “You're welcome to anything we've got here. Make yourself at home.”

If only she knew how promising that sounded to him. Only he didn't really know how to make himself at home anywhere. Except in an army camp, perhaps.

“I hope you're hungry.” She threw a glance over his shoulder.

“Yes, ma'am.”

Lisa stopped and gave him one of those heart-warming smiles. “Good—because I've got eggs, bacon and sausages in the pan for you.”

He'd never thought breakfast could sound so good.

“Oh, and Alex?”

He walked two beats faster to catch up with her step.

“Please don't call me ma'am again. It makes me feel like an old lady.”

He sucked a lungful of air and fell back a pace or two behind her. And wished he hadn't. He had to fight not to look at the sway of her hips.

The term
old lady
hadn't crossed his mind when he'd looked at her. Ever.

 

Lisa patted the bacon down with a paper towel to absorb the grease and then placed it on a large plate. She saved a rasher for herself, and slipped the spatula beneath the eggs to turn them. She hoped he liked them easy-over.

“Do I take all your work out there this morning as notice that you're definitely staying?” She didn't look over her shoulder, just continued getting breakfast ready. She thought he'd feel less pressured without her watching his face.

“Ah…I guess you could say that,” he answered warily.

She pursed her lips to stop from smiling. “Excellent.” She spun around and just about tossed the plate and its entire contents over Alex. “Oh!”

He moved quickly, grabbing the plate and steadying her with the other hand.

“Sorry. I was just…”

She felt a sense of cool as his hand left her upper arm.

“…going to help you with the plate,” he finished.

Lisa felt bad that his tanned cheeks had a hue of crimson adorning them.

“Aren't you having any?” he asked in concern, looking at how much she'd given him.

That made her smile. She couldn't cook breakfast and not partake. “Just a small version for me.”

She sat down at the table with him, her own plate modestly loaded. His hands hovered over the utensils.

“Please start,” she told him, wanting to put him at ease. “Eat while it's hot.”

He did.

She watched as he firmly yet politely pierced meat and cut at his toast, practically inhaling the breakfast. She wondered if she'd served him enough.

“I've got work to do today, so I'm not going to be any help to you out there,” she said.

Alex placed his knife and fork on the edge of the plate and reached for his coffee. She forced herself not to watch his every move. Strong fingers curled around the cup and he wiped at the corner of his mouth with the other hand.

“Where do you work?” he asked.

She was pleased he'd asked. Maybe food
was
the way to communicate with a man after all.

“I work from home,” she explained, rising to collect the toast she'd left cooling in a rack on the counter. She brought it back to the table. “As I mentioned before, I write cookbooks, so I'm usually trying out new recipes, baking things.”

He swallowed another mouthful of coffee. “Right.”

“And today I'm under pressure, because my editor wants recipes emailed to her by the end of next week.”

He looked thoughtful. She opened a jar of homemade jam and nudged it toward him. Alex dipped a knife in and spread some on a piece of toast.

“Do you have to take Lilly to school soon?”

She shook her head. “Spring break.” She sighed. “But she hasn't gone back to school since William died, so I've had to start home-schooling her.”

Alex looked like he was calculating how long that was.

“I do my best, but I need to get her back there.” She sighed.

“Have you tried therapy?” he asked.

She blew out a deep breath. “Yup.”

She couldn't tell if he approved or not. For some reason his opinion mattered to her.

“I'd better get back out there,” he said.

She rose as he did, and collected the plates.

“Thanks for breakfast,” he added.

He looked awkward but she ignored it. “No problem. I owe you for taking on the jungle out there.”

The look he gave her made her think otherwise. That he thought
he
owed
her
. The way his eyes flickered, briefly catching hers, almost questioning.

“You need a hand with those?” he offered.

Lisa turned back to him. To those sad eyes trained her way. “I'm fine here. I'll have lunch ready for later, but help yourself to anything you need. The door's open.”

She watched as Alex walked out. His shoulders were so broad, yet they looked like they were frowning. He looked so strong, yet sad—tough, yet soft. As if he could crush an enemy with his bare hands, yet provide comfort to one of his own all in the same breath.

She wished there was more she could do for him. But something told her that whatever she was doing was enough for now.

Lisa looked out the window as he appeared nearby. He
reached for the ax and dragged it upward in the air before slicing through a tree stump. She felt naughty watching him. Indulging in seeing his muscles flex and work, seeing the tension on his face drain away as he started to gather momentum.

She would be forever grateful that he'd come all this way to give her William's things. It had given her some sort of closure. Made his passing more final, somehow.

The tags Alex had given her had been William's older ones—the more current ones had come home with his body—but she had taken comfort in wearing them.

This morning she had tucked them in her jewellery box, along with the folded letters and the photo of Lilly.

She had made a decision too.

To stop grieving. To be brave and take a big step forward.

William was gone. It had taken her a long while to admit that.

He'd been a great husband and an even better father. But he'd also been a soldier. And that meant she'd always known that this day, being alone, could come, and she had to face it.

The reality of being a soldier's wife was that you had to risk losing him. That you couldn't hold him back.

Well, she'd loved William with all her heart, but she'd also accepted that his being a soldier, facing live combat, could mean he could be taken from her.

And he had.

This was the first day of her new life as a woman dealing with life, accepting what had happened to her, and being the best mother she could be. Not a widow. The word was so full of grief, so depressing, and if she stopped thinking of herself that way it might make it easier to move forward.

She had loved her husband. In her heart she knew no one could ever attempt or threaten to replace William. He had been too special, too important to her.

But she did want to keep a smile on her face and try to be happy. If Alex's company helped her do that, then she wasn't going to feel bad about it.

T
HERE
was something nice about having a man in the house again. Although Alex wasn't technically
in
the house, having him in the cabin was equally as good.

She'd never felt nervous, exactly—not out here—but there had always been a certain element of unease that she'd never been able to shake. A longing to have a man at home every night. Someone to protect the fort. Someone in the window if you came home after dark.

It was stupid, but it was true. She was a woman and she liked to feel protected and nurtured.

The phone rang. She saw the caller identification as it flashed across the little screen.

Great.

Lisa had been avoiding her sister since Alex had arrived, but Anna wasn't someone who took to being avoided very well. Her mother? Well, she wasn't so bad, but her sister could be downright painful sometimes.

“Hey, Anna.” She put on her best sing-song voice as she answered the phone. If Lisa didn't talk to her now, Anna would be likely to turn up here before dark to check on her.

“Hello, stranger.”

Lisa could tell her sister was worried. She had that slightly high-pitched note to her voice. “Sorry, hon, I've just been flat out trying to get these recipes in order.”

“You still need a life, though, right?” Anna said.

Lisa glanced out the window and spied Alex working on a cabin window. He was trying to force it open. Did having him here constitute having a life?

“Hmm, I know. I just want this book to be good.”

“They're always good,” her sister replied instantly.

The vote of confidence helped.

“How about you and some of the girls come by on Saturday afternoon for a tasting?” Lisa suggested.

“Love to. Want me to organize it?”

“Sounds good,” Lisa agreed.

“Just the usual gang?” Anna asked.

Five women were plenty, Lisa thought. “Yup—and Mom.”

She heard Anna flicking through what she presumed was her calendar. That girl knew what everyone was up to!

“Nope. Mom has that charity fundraiser meeting going on. I'll tell her you asked, though,” Anna said.

Lisa tucked the phone beneath her ear and rinsed her hands in the sink. Her eyes were still firmly locked on Alex.

“You sure you're okay?”

Lisa nodded.

“I can't hear you if you're nodding,” her sister said dryly.

Damn it! It was like Anna had secret cameras installed in the house!

“I'm fine. I just need to get all this sorted,” Lisa told her.

“Need me to come by?” Anna asked.

“No!”
she yelled. “I mean, no. I'm fine.” The silence on the other end told her she hadn't convinced her sister. “Come by with the girls on Saturday afternoon. I just need some time and we'll catch up then, okay?”

As Lisa said her goodbyes and hung up the phone she felt guilty. She usually shared everything with her sister. Everything. And yet she had a very big something hanging around out back, staying with her for the next few weeks, and she had omitted even to mention it.

Lilly was marching back and forth outside, Boston at her
heels. She had a huge stick in her hand—one that Alex had no doubt cut down before she'd claimed it.

Lisa went about fiddling with quantities and ingredients, dragging her eyes from the window.

She couldn't deny that she liked what she saw. But then what woman wouldn't?

 

Alex walked inside with Lilly on his hip. He'd thought the dog was going to attack when he'd first picked her up, but after a few gentle words and a futile attempt to stop the kid crying he had hoisted her up and into the house.

But his feet had stopped before they'd found her mom.

Lilly's cries had become diluted to gentle hiccups. It was awkward, holding her so close, but he'd had little choice. It had been a very long time since he'd held another human being like that.

Lisa was swaying in time to the beat of the music playing loudly in the kitchen. Her hair was caught back off her face with a spotted kerchief, and she had a splodge or two of flour on her cheek. The pink apron added to his discomfort. It had pulled her top down with it, and she was displaying more cleavage than he guessed she would usually show.

And she still hadn't noticed them above the hum of the music.

“Huh-hmm.” He cleared his throat. Then again—louder.

She looked up, lips moving to the lyrics. Her mouth stopped, wide open, before she clamped it shut.

Lilly burst into much louder tears as soon as her mother noticed her, and all Alex could do was hold her out at a peculiar angle until Lisa swept her into her own arms.

“Baby, what happened?”

The lips that had been singing and smiling only moments earlier fell in a series of tiny kisses to her daughter's head. Lisa nursed her as she moved to turn off the speaker that was belting out the tunes.

“Shh, now. It's all right—you just got a fright,” Lisa crooned.

She hugged her daughter tight. Alex couldn't take his eyes off them. It tugged something inside him, pushed at something that he hadn't felt in a long while.

“How about Alex tells me what happened while you catch your breath?” she murmured.

He cringed. Taking care of kids wasn't his thing. This one might have taken a shine to him, but he had no experience. No idea at all. “I'm sorry, she just…ah…she fell from a tree. I should have been watching her. I…”

Lisa drew her eyebrows together and waved at him with her free hand. “She's a child, Alex. And she's
my
child. If anyone should feel bad for not watching her it's me.”

A touch of weight left his shoulders. But not all of it.

“I was…”

“Enough.” She put Lilly down and crouched beside her. “If you wrap children in cotton wool they can't have any fun. Tumbles and bruises are all part of being a child.”

He swallowed. Hard. She was inspecting Lilly, checking her, but she wasn't angry.

“You're fine, honey. How about you go play in your room for a while? Take it easy, okay?”

Lilly was still doing the odd snuffle, but Lisa simply gave her a pat on the head and blew her a kiss.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered.

“Alex! For the last time, it was
not
your fault. Do I look angry?” she asked.

He ran his eyes over her face. He had seen her look worried before, concerned, but, no, not angry.

She obviously wasn't like most moms.

“You're just in time to try a few things,” she said, changing the subject.

That sounded scary. He followed her, then sat down at the counter. Same spot he'd ended up when he'd arrived.

“I want your opinion on this slice. And this pastry.”

That didn't sound too hard, he thought.

She straightened her apron and wiped at her cheek. He was almost disappointed when the smudge disappeared.

“What's your book called?” he asked curiously.

She turned around, turning her wide smile on him. “I'm thinking
Lisa's Treats
, but my editor will probably have other ideas.”

Huh? “Doesn't that bother you?”

She fiddled with a tray, then scooped a tiny pastry something onto her fingers.

“What?”

“Not being able to choose the title yourself?” he explained.

She raised an eyebrow before lifting the pastry to his mouth. He opened it. How could he not? She was holding something that smelt delicious in front of it.

“They know how to sell books. I just know how to write what's inside. Good?”

He swallowed.
Very good.
“Good,” he agreed.

“Just good?” she probed.

That made him nervous. Hadn't she just asked for good? “Great?” he tried.

“Hmm, I'd prefer excellent.” She whisked away, and then twirled back to him. “Try this.”

Once again she thrust something into his mouth.

Oh. Yes.
“Incredible.”

“Good.” She had a triumphant look on her face.

He was still confused, but he tried to stay focused on the food. If he didn't look at the food he'd have to look at her. And the niggle in his chest was telling him that could be dangerous. Very dangerous.

“And this?”

This time when she twirled around she had a spoon covered in a gooey mixture. It looked decadent. Delicious. Just like her.

“Last up—my new chocolate icing.”

She leaned across the counter toward him. Too close. He
fought the urge to lean back, to literally fall off the stool to get away from her. Lisa's eyes danced over his. The connection between them scared him rigid.

He sucked air through his nostrils and tried to stop his hands from becoming clammy.

Lisa held the spoon in the air, waiting for him to taste from it. He gathered courage and obeyed, his face ending up way too close to hers.

“Good?”

He could almost feel her breath on his skin. Or was he imagining it? He raised his eyes an inch. She didn't pull away. There was a beat where he wondered if she ever would.

“Excellent.” He was learning how to play this game. Praise at least one word higher than what she'd asked for.

“Okay—that's me done for the day, then,” she announced briskly.

She walked away from him fast. Like she'd been burnt. The flush over his own skin was making him feel the same. He glanced around the kitchen. At the trays littered across the bench, the dishes piled in the sink and the ingredients scattered. Maybe it would be polite to help, but he needed to get out of here. Put some distance between them.

Yet still he lingered. Good manners overrode emotion.

“Want a hand with all this?” he asked tentatively.

She gave him a cheeky grin. “Want a hand outside?”

Alex shrugged his acquiescence. Inside, his lungs screamed.

“Great, then I'll leave this till later,” she told him happily.

 

Two hours later Alex was still working outside while she tinkered inside the cabin. She flicked a duster around all the surfaces, before giving the bed a good thump and making it with the linen she'd brought out.

She liked having him here. Every hour that passed she couldn't help but think she'd done the right thing asking him to stay. It wasn't just the effect he had on Lilly, he affected her too.

All went quiet outside, and he appeared in the doorway. His body filled the entire frame.

“How you getting on out there?” she asked. She could see a line of sweat starting to make a trickle across his forehead. It made her gulp. He was…well, very manly. And it was doing something to her, if the caged bird beating its wings with fury inside her stomach was any sort of gauge.

“Getting there.”

She used her head to indicate where the water was. He followed.

“Thinking it will take longer to get this place habitable?” she asked.

He shook his head.

If she'd just spent years at war, and years before that in army bunkers, she'd probably think the cabin wasn't half bad either. Lisa fiddled with the duster and then stopped. She pinned her eyes on him. “Alex, I was thinking—did you actually see…you know…how William died?”

His shoulders hunched. He stopped guzzling water like he'd just emerged from the desert and stayed still. Deathly still.

So he
did
know.

It didn't matter if he didn't want to tell her. She already knew William had died from multiple bullet wounds. She'd just always wondered
how
.
Why?
What had actually happened over there? Who had fired? For what reason?

He dropped to an armchair in the corner. Dust thumped out of it but he seemed oblivious to it. Lisa knew she'd been wrong in asking so soon, but she couldn't take it back. Not yet. Not now.

The question hung between them.

“We were…” He took a long pause before continuing. “I mean, we came under fire.”

She sat down too. On the bed. Despite just having made it.

“They think there was one, maybe two guys waiting for us. Snipers.”

She could see the torment on his face. The emotion of pulling memories to the surface again. But she wanted to know.

“I'm sorry. I can't talk about it.” Alex jumped to his feet and walked out the door. Fast.

Lisa sighed. She should never have pushed him. It was too early to be asking him things like that. Things that didn't really matter anymore. Not when nothing could be done about it.

“Alex, wait.” She rushed out after him.

Emotion seeped from him. She could see it. Feel it. Smell it. He practically radiated hurt and confusion as she walked slowly up behind him. He had one hand braced against a tree. The other hung at his side. She stopped inches away from him, her body close to his. She didn't touch him.

“I'm sorry, Alex. I had no right to ask you that.”

In a way she was lying. She
did
have the right to know. But not yet. Not until he was ready to tell.

She stood there for a moment. Watching him. Waiting. “We need some ground rules. If you want to talk about what happened, you can—anytime.” She paused. “But I won't ask you about it again.”

She sensed relief from him. He swiveled—just slightly, but their eyes met. She understood. She still struggled with telling people that William was gone sometimes. Felt all alone and lost.

“When you're ready to talk, tell me,” she reiterated.

He just stared at her. His eyes acknowledged her words with a faint flicker.

“Sound okay to you?” she pressed.

“Yeah.” His voice lacked punch.

Lisa turned and went back into the cabin. He needed some tender loving care. There was obviously no one to give it to him. But she wasn't going to ask him about that either.

This had to be a safe place for him. A place where there was no pressure and where nobody asked him questions they had no right to ask. At least not yet. Not before he trusted her. Not
until she had made him feel comfortable enough to talk. Not until he'd had time.