Almost Heaven (13 page)

“Not the vase?”

“The hummingbird,” Kendra handed over her twenty, complimented the artist on her exquisite work and waited while her blue-and-emerald hummingbird was wrapped in tissue paper. “The parade should be starting soon. Did you want to watch it with me?”

“I sure would.”

Why did his smile warm her up inside, the way sunlight blazed through the stained-glass vase?

Maybe she'd kept herself apart from everyone for too long. She'd stopped shining inside—going
through her life, pouring everything into her work and into her duties as a sister because she wouldn't get hurt. Not by her work and not from her sisters.

But from everyone else? Distant. Polite, sure, but even in this crowd, she was as lonely as if she was sitting on the back porch on a Friday evening.

Jerrod had taken more than her ability to trust. He'd taken away her will to
live.
She'd been stumbling along, surviving, existing, not living. She hadn't realized it.

Maybe that's why God had brought Cameron into her life. To remind her what she'd been missing, hiding away in her dutiful life. Without making new friends, letting old friendships slip away and allowing work to invade nearly every waking moment of every day.

“Are you all right?” he asked with concern, and she realized she'd been staring off into space.

“I feel almost perfect.” For the first time in six years happiness sparkled inside her, bold like noontime sunshine through the glass. Like hope.

And all because of her new friendship with Cameron.

 

He felt like a man who'd been able to touch heaven for one brief instant. Cameron had the good Lord to thank as he carefully lifted the basket from the passenger seat. Maybe he should have called, made sure Kendra was home.

Nah. He remembered leaving her at her truck after
the parade was finished. He'd asked her if she was in the mood for ice cream. She said she had to get back to the stables and relieve Colleen, who'd wanted to attend the rodeo—an informal annual event to raise money for the volunteer fire department and emergency services.

It was just as well. He'd wanted to kiss her goodbye, but he held back. He had big plans for her, for tonight. He watched her pull away, her pickup joining several of the other vehicles patiently waiting out the traffic congestion in their single-street town. He'd first put in some volunteer time helping over at the rodeo grounds before heading out Kendra's way with his surprise.

He lifted the vase carefully in his free hand and shouldered the vehicle's door closed. Nerves tingled in his gut.

Was he moving too fast? Or too slow? It had been all he'd thought about during the afternoon. Nope—all he'd
worried
about. She'd reached out to him. Laughed with him. Relaxed as the local fire trucks paraded by. The volunteer fireman tossed chocolate gold coins, and he caught a handful for her. With the little tykes there, getting the chance to watch over them, he got a good eyeful of what his future could be.

Would
be. He couldn't let fear get the best of him now. He'd come a long way since Deb's passing. He'd crawled through a long night of shadow to stand here in the light of Kendra's affection. It felt like a smile
from heaven as he strode through the long rays of the sun that carpeted the path before him.

The path to his new and future love. There wasn't a car in the parking lot, save for his. All the folks were in town enjoying the festivities. It seemed as if the angels were looking out for him—he just might have Kendra all to himself tonight.

There she was, standing in the main aisle of the big stable, a pitchfork in hand. Already he knew the curve of her face, the line of her back, the stretch of her arm as she worked. Tenderness fired through him. It hurt to love again, but he would not back down. He would not be afraid.
I know she's the one, Lord. Maybe you could open her heart, just a little. Help her to look at me in a whole new light.

As if she felt his presence, the way he could feel hers, her stance tensed. She turned, not in fear, but in expectation, knowing exactly where he stood in the aisle. Like the moon always facing the earth, bound by a great force, she faced him.

“I told you I might be stopping by.” As if that force pulled him now, moving him beyond his will, he strode toward her without remembering how he was suddenly in front of her. “I heard it's your birthday tomorrow.”

“Heard? Who would have told you something like that? If it was one of my sisters, I'll have to ban her from Monopoly night for at least a month. Maybe more.”

“Wow, you're sure tough. I'll have to remember not to get on your bad side.”

“Your deputy saw my license. That's how you know.”

“Guilty. We lawmen have our ways of getting any information we want.” He handed her the flower-filled vase. “Happy birthday a day early, pretty lady.”

She gazed up at him with big doe eyes, wide with an emotion he sure hoped was delight. “You picked sunflowers for me?”

“Yep. Look at the vase.”

“Cameron.” The generous arrangement of sunflowers had caught her eye at first, but now she saw the delicate-cut glass horses galloping around the breathtaking vase. “No, this is too expensive. This isn't right. I can't accept this.”

“Sure you can. I want you to have it.”

“But—” And sunflowers, too. Images of last night surrounded her, the nodding flowers, the burning sunset, how hard she'd held on to her faith. Relying on her belief to help her forget. To keep her standing alone and strong.

“I've got a basket here. Picked up a fried-chicken meal from the café. Even got Jodi to make you up a special birthday cake. A little one, for the two of us. If you want, we can have a picnic, and when night falls we ought to be able to see the fireworks from town. Even brought my telescope if you wanted to stargaze.”

She
had
to be misunderstanding. “I've never had a client bring me flowers before, much less dinner.”

“I'm a client, sure, but I thought I was more than that.”

A slow tremble rocked deep through the scars in her soul. Her ears were buzzing. “We're friends. That's what we agreed on, right? Last night on the trail ride and today at the festival. You and I are just friends.”

Why was her voice high and thin? Kendra took a deep breath and let it out. The sunflowers became a yellow-and-amber blur. “We're mostly strangers, Cameron. I don't think this is appropriate. I don't want this.”

“I do. I just have to know. Is there a chance that you can love me?”

He stood as stalwart as the Montana mountains at his back, his heart in his hand.

She stumbled back, panic flooding her like a river at spring thaw. There was no way, no possible way. “I thought you understood. I appreciate your business—”

“My
business?
Sure, but last night wasn't business. Not today. Not now. I came here tonight because I thought I had a chance with you. I know what you're thinking. I'm not the best-paid man in these parts, but I'm honest and honorable and I'll treat you better than any man ever has. Or ever will.”

“What? A chance with me?” She
couldn't
be hearing him right.

“Being loved by you must be like holding a fistful of heaven. Something a man knows he doesn't deserve by his own right, but by grace. That's what love is, a gift from above. I know. I thought my heart had died right along with Debra, until you came along.”

“No, you've misunderstood, Cameron. I'm not in love with you.”

He looked crestfallen, but undefeatable. “I know what happened to you. What you're afraid of.”

“You don't know anything.” There was no way, no possible way, she was looking backward. Only forward. To her future alone. That's the way it had to be. The only way she could keep going. “I won't talk about what happened, and you don't know, or you would never mention it around me.”

“Jerrod was one man—”

“Don't you say his name.” She thrust the flowers blindly onto the tack shelf and turned, seeing only the haze of sunset through the stable door and the smear of concrete at her feet. She wouldn't allow the past to rise up and drown her. She did not have to remember. She did not have to feel like that ever again.

“Kendra. I'm sorry.” Cameron's footsteps pounded behind her, concern raw in his deep voice.

Cameron was a powerful man. He could stop her if he wanted. Hold her captive. Make her feel as defenseless as she had that horrible night and during the quieter, desperate times before that.

The years stripped away and suddenly she was helpless again, on the floor, blood mixing with the
tears on her tongue, holding her broken arm to her ribs, curled up and waiting for the next blow to come.

“You're shaking.” Cameron's voice sounded a mile away. His hand settled on her shoulder. “You're cold.”

“It's the air-conditioning. I'm going outside. Let go of me, Cameron.”

“Sure.” He released her, looking confused. “You're safe with me. You know that?”

“Sure, you're the sheriff.” She didn't think any man was safe, but what was the use of saying that to him? Cameron was a good man, she knew that.

So was Jerrod. Everyone said so. But good didn't mean without flaws. Every human on this earth had faults. Lord knew she had enough of her own, and she'd worked hard on forgiveness, but how could she forget? Every time she was alone with a man, every time she'd tried to date over the years, it was always the same.

She could not help feeling defenseless on that gritty, cold kitchen floor. Terrified and wounded and broken. No man was ever going to make her feel that way again. She'd make sure of it.

“You weren't going to ride Warrior tonight, were you?” she choked out, holding on desperately to the one purpose that had helped her through the days—her business. “I didn't saddle him. I'm going to close up early tonight. Maybe you could go home.”

“Kendra.” He followed her, climbing through the fence rails after her, radiating concern and strength
and mercy, just as he had that night when he saved her from being hit one more time.

Would he follow her all the way to her house? Couldn't he see that it was his goodness she feared? Because it made her want and it made her wish and made her yearn to trust.

She would not run. She would not hide. She faced him, hands fisted, holding herself around the middle, defenses on full alert to protect what remained of her heart. “I can't do this. I can't start
dating
you.”

“You say that like I've got the plague or something. Look, I know what this is about. You look at me, and you see him. You think one man hurt you, then any man can.”

“I don't want any man. I don't want you. Not like that.” She heard the edge in her words. Hated the sound of it. When had she become so hard?

It was too late to take it back. She wouldn't if she could. He had to understand. She had to protect herself. What she hated was having done it badly.

Silence like a startled slap stretched between them as larks whipped through the grasses, skimming on the last light before sunset. Jingles breathed out in an impatient “whoosh” at being ignored.

Goose bumps chilled Kendra's arms as she watched Cameron, a tiny part of her afraid at angering him.

Soldier-strong, as self-controlled and as noble as a warrior of old, he did not move. Long shadows of evening wrapped around him until he looked so alone,
it made her want to reach out and pull him close. To kiss the pain away.

How wrong was that? He didn't need her, not really. How could he? He was a man. He was twice as strong as she was. What kind of heart did any man have, anyway? She was right in turning away. Right in leaving him standing there alone in the coming darkness.

She didn't need him. She didn't need anyone.

How long he stood in the field, she didn't know. She told herself she didn't care, but she did. She crunched through the bleached dry grasses toward home, the sunflowers bowing before her as the sun disappeared and darkness came. Fighting the urge to look back and see if he had remained. Or if he had fled.

The phone was ringing in the echoes of her empty kitchen as she burst through the back door. Let it ring, she didn't want to talk to anyone. She felt as if she was breaking apart inside as if it had happened all over again, as if all those years of rebuilding her life and protecting herself had been stripped away, and she was wounded and bleeding from the inside.

“Hey. It's Michelle,” came her sister's cheerful voice through the decades-old answering machine. “
Somebody
I know is having a birthday tomorrow. Expect to be stolen away. No I-have-to-work kind of excuses, got it? Mom baked your favorite cake, that's all I'm going to say because it's a surprise, but I know how you can be bribed with chocolate. Be ready at
noon, or I'll send the local sheriff to hunt you down! Later!”

The click echoed in her lonely kitchen.
Cameron.
Was he still standing outside? She pulled apart the curtain sheers. Twilight crept across the paddock, hugging the forest on the other side of the fencing. The firs cast shadows over the knoll where Cameron had last stood.

It was too dark to see him. She felt his pain in her soul, as absolute as the encroaching night.

She'd been too harsh, she'd handled the situation badly. Was there any way to fix it? No, if she went out there and spoke to him, apologized for her words and her rejection, it would only make it seem as if she cared.

She couldn't afford to care. Her life was safe. Isolated but safe. That's the way it
had
to be. She couldn't have a good man like Cameron coming around with more on his mind than simple friendship.

But he's hurting. Tears stung behind her eyelids as she sank to the floor. She was hurting, too. Why did her soul ache, longing for his tenderness?