Along the Broken Road (7 page)

One side of his mouth slid into a smile. “Is it too early to ask for a pay raise?”

“Darn it. I was just going to ask if you’d mind a pay cut.”

Charlee returned to the lasagna she had lost interest in. It wasn’t until Mr. Gruber served dessert that the conversation between Ian and Charlee picked up. “What about you, Ian? Any bad relationships in your past, or is that topic off-limits? You know, with the new rules about telling secrets and all.”

“Uh.” Ian wiped his mouth and spread the napkin in his lap, leaning back. “Bad relationships? How about all of them?”

Charlee took another bite of key lime pie. “Can’t be all that bad.” She had figured whatever his deep, dark secret was, it had more to do with where he’d spent the last two years than what was in his little black book.
Relationships seemed so easy for guys. You have one, you don’t. Life goes on
.

His dark hair glistened in the tiki light. “It was all bad, trust me.”

“One in particular?”

When he looked up at her, Charlee saw it. The same pain she’d felt when Richard betrayed her. An older wound perhaps, but a severe one.

“I was in love once. Her name was Brenna.”

Charlee choked on the bite she was trying to swallow. Guys didn’t typically throw around words like
love
. “What happened?”

“I guess my whole life I’ve been a bit of a screwup.” He laughed without humor. “So, you can probably guess.”

“Was it recent?” He’d been deployed for a long time; had he fallen for someone there?

“High school sweethearts.”

“Oh.” That was a long time ago if he was about her age.

“I messed it up then. And when we reconnected right before I joined up, I messed it up again.”

“I’m sorry, Ian.” And she was, because whatever happened still weighed on him. And that was a brand of pain she understood.

“It wasn’t until I was in the military that I learned what it really is to be a man.”

“War can do that to a person.”

“It wasn’t the war. It was my CO.” Ian reached for his dessert plate and lifted the fork. “If not for him, I’d still be a screwup.”

“I doubt that.”

Ian shrugged. “And if you consult my father, I’m
still
a screwup.”

“Don’t feel bad about that. I think most of us feel like our parents don’t understand us. It’s human nature, I guess. My dad never understood me.” She motioned around her. “This place. Thought it was a huge waste of money and throwing away my college education.”

“And your mom?”

“This was her dream first. She talked about it so much, it became real to me before it even existed. What little girl wouldn’t dream about living where she can paint pictures all day and eat dinner under the stars every night?”

“Do you get to paint every day?”

Charlee looked beyond him to the mountain range. “No. Too busy. But now that you’re here . . .”

Ian smiled.

It was a nice smile, filled with interest in her words. Charlee shook her head to clear it. They really needed brighter light out here. Glaring, ugly, incandescent light. Yes, that’s what they needed.

Wilma cleared their plates and followed Mr. Gruber into the kitchen while Ian and Charlee stood and gathered their utensils and cups. Before they could move away, Wynona sailed in and grabbed their things. “We’re cleaning up tonight to help Mr. Gruber. You two would just be in the way. It’s a lovely night; why don’t you go for a stroll?”

Charlee opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Ian to the rescue. “I’m beat. Maybe some other time. But, hey, Charlee,” he lightly punched her shoulder, “I’ll walk you home.”

It was such a brotherly gesture, Charlee had to bite back a smile at Wynona’s look of disapproval. “Sure. Whatever.”

With a wide berth between them, they headed off in the direction of Charlee’s house.

When they were out of earshot, she leaned a bit closer. “I’ll give you props for the arm punch.”

“Good. Props has to be better than a knee to the groin . . . like I was expecting.”

“What? That’s stupid. Why would I do that?” The path home was well worn and she knew where all the stumbling blocks were.

“You grew up with brothers. I just thought the arm punch might cause a flashback.”

She stopped to turn and face him fully. “You were expecting that, really?”

“Noooo,” he said, but as he did, his open hands came together as a shield below his belt.

Charlee threw her head back and laughed. It was good to laugh. It had been a long time. It was good to stroll to her house with a clever conversation passing between herself and someone else . . . someone under the age of fifty. And that’s when she realized, maybe it was too nice. Too easy. Something squeezed on her heart. Charlee turned from him and kept walking, picking up the pace just enough to outrun the feelings shooting through her system. But Ian picked up his pace too and suddenly they weren’t only walking, they were close. His arm nearly scraping her shoulder. When he stumbled forward, obviously not knowing the path as well as she, instincts took over and she reached out and grabbed him.

He’d bent at the waist, but gathered his feet under him and stood, moving closer to her rather than farther away. Her hand was still clamped on his upper arm as if she’d be strong enough to catch him if he fell. He was two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Charlee’s fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, staying planted on his rock-hard arm.
Let go, let go, let go
.

Ian turned into her. “Thanks,” he whispered and she could smell the scent of key lime on his lips.

“No problem.” But she was lying. This wasn’t just a problem, this was an epic fail because he was right here and too easy to lean on . . . or grab . . . whichever the case may be. And Charlee was feeling the stone-solid walls of her resolve crumbling.

Ian sniffed. “Can you smell that?”

Charlee used her free hand to brush the hair from her eyes. “It’s peppermint I planted some years ago and now it grows wild along the side of the kitchen. There’s honeysuckle by the toolshed.”

“It’s incredible.” But she could see in his features, the way his gaze lingered on her eyes then her mouth, he wasn’t just talking about mint. Charlee swallowed, took a minimal step back.

Ian knew something had changed; she saw it reflecting in his eyes. “You okay, Charlee?”

The wind had kicked up and tossed her hair in front of her face. She wished she could just hide behind it. But she couldn’t. This needed to be handled. Head-on. “You’re a good man, aren’t you, Ian Carlisle?”

“I’d like to think so.”

Charlee let her hand drop from his arm. “And you wouldn’t break your word, right? It’s a code among soldiers. If you give your word, you have to do it.”

“Yes.”

“Then I want you to make me a promise.”

In his eyes, she saw the war. And the tiniest part of her felt bad for putting him on the spot, but the biggest part of her knew she had to.

Ian swallowed. “Anything.”

Charlee’s heart stuttered to a stop because in this moment, with this man, she knew she could make any demand and he’d accomplish it or die trying. It was such a stark realization it nearly took all the wind from her lungs. “I want you to promise me we won’t become more than friends.”

Ian looked like he’d been punched. Which was crazy. They’d only just met. But sometimes, sometimes an instant was a lifetime and that’s what it felt like with Ian. He rubbed his hands over his face as she tried to breathe, but there was no oxygen and spots were flashing in her periphery like tiny ghosts trying to find their way home.

When Ian’s eyes landed on her again, there was a new strength in them. “You know, on the battlefield when someone gets wounded, the medic looks to see if it’s superficial or if it’s deep. Superficial, you can keep fighting. Deep, you need to leave the battlefield.”

Charlee’s gaze stayed riveted to his as he closed the small space between them. And then, his hands were there, against her arms, fingertips moving ever so gently. “I get it. You were wounded on the battlefield.”

And for some inexplicable reason, all the pain of Richard’s betrayal and the hurt she’d suffered surged to the surface. Charlee choked back a sob.

Ian moved even closer, his face only a few inches from hers. “Is it superficial, Charlee? Or is it deep?”

She wanted . . . wanted so badly to say it was superficial, that the right guy could help her through it. And she was going to, the instant she opened her mouth . . . she was going to tell him that. But she heard herself saying, “It’s deep.”

Ian nodded slowly. His hands became a caress; he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers like the words had stolen the strength from his body. Eyes closed, their bodies were communicating though their mouths were silent. He sighed, a sound filled with resignation and sadness. Charlee stiffened because she knew it would be painful when he drew away. And Ian was undoubtedly going to draw away from her, of that she was certain. Mustering his strength, he took a tiny step back and squared his shoulders. “I give you my word. What’s between us won’t go any farther than friendship.”

Right then and there, Charlee crumbled. He had no idea the gift he was giving her. Relief rose like the giant swell of a tsunami, but right on its heels came the heartbreak. She’d spent many nights crying herself to sleep in the last six months. Alone. Always alone, rarely in front of anyone else and now, it seemed impossible to stop the tears. Giant drops filled her eyes and she couldn’t hold back the flood anymore. Charlee tried to turn from him to take the last few steps to her front porch, but he caught her in his arms. In the next moment, the scent of pepper and spice and Ian surrounded her just as his arms wound so tightly around her body all she could do was collapse under the pressure. He didn’t stroke her hair or speak. He didn’t move except to breathe. But he held her there, steadfast. Like a brick blanket. A safe house. A port in the storm. When their breathing slowed and the fast tears became slow ones, with her head against his chest, Charlee knew what it was to feel not just protected, but cherished.

Ian didn’t move until she slowly pulled away. It was only fair for him to see the mess that was her. He’d been there when she needed a good cry. He used his thumbs to rub away the remaining tears from her cheeks. When she opened her mouth, he placed a thumb over her lips. “Good night, Charlee McKinley. Sweet dreams.”

And then he strolled, no sauntering, no swaggering, off into the darkness. And Charlee was left with the very real possibility that it might be more difficult for her to keep the promise than it was going to be for Ian. In fact, a tiny bit of her heart might already be gone.

CHAPTER 5

“You want to get out of here for a while?” Charlee asked Ian as she jumped out of the Jeep. She’d slid to a stop in front of his cabin. So, he hadn’t run her off completely, he decided. That was good. For hours last night, he’d stayed awake listening to a killer thunderstorm shake the mountains and rumble his cabin walls. Ian had always liked the rain, its cleansing power, its ability to purify the land. But last night had left him unsettled, as if the heavenly show was a forerunner to disaster. A disaster he could no more control than the storm that shook the retreat.

It was twelve hours after her crying episode and four hours after the mammoth storm rocked the mountainside. Wearing jean shorts and a ripped tank top, Charlee looked hot enough to melt iron. Ian reined in his libido as she—smiling like a Cheshire cat—hopped up onto his porch step. The morning sun was rising over McKinley Mountain. That’s what they called it, he’d learned, the mountain that shot into the sky, cutting the horizon.

He handed her a steaming coffee cup.

She frowned. “Were you expecting company?”

“Yeah, met some girls in town late last night after I walked you home.”

She came to a screeching halt on his top step. Eyes jabbing him like a fireplace poker.

“It’s a joke, McKinley. Geez, lighten up.”

Her shoulder tipped up, eyes landing heavenward. “None of my business.”

But her tone was tight and red snaked across her throat and the bare section of her upper chest. This was jealousy. Oh. He liked seeing that on her. “I was awake half the night with that storm.”

She took a sip of the coffee. “Good ole Ozark Mountain storms. It rained buckets.” And that’s when he saw the glint in her eyes.

Ian had been concerned about the morning. Charlee had bared her feelings last night, letting him see her in a true moment of weakness. She’d been a downed wire and him, the puddle of water the frayed lines landed in. Electricity and water, a dangerous combination and a fair description of the two of them. “Gruber said he might stop by this morning, but I haven’t seen him yet.”

Charlee dropped into the wooden rocker beside Ian. “He can get his own coffee.”

“You like the rain?” he asked her.

“Yeah, I guess. But mostly I like hitting the trails on the property after the rain. I thought you might like to go with me.”

He smiled over at her. “I’d love to.”
I’d go anywhere with you, Charlee
. That part, he needed to keep to himself, but in all honesty, the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted. This was all working in reverse of what he’d planned. “Charlee, can I talk to you about something?”

She stopped rocking and angled in the seat to face him. “Sure.”

“At dinner, when we were talking about secrets . . .” How to finish this? He needed to just tell her the truth. Tell her why he was there and what was supposed to be accomplished.

“Ian, I meant what I said. We all have things, skeletons in the closet. It’s okay to take your time.” She moved her coffee from one hand to the other and reached over. Her fingers were still hot from where she’d gripped the mug.

“What if that secret would change the way you saw me?”

Understanding entered her gaze. “Ian, I’m getting to know you now. Who you are. We’re building a friendship based on
now
. Not on the past. Not on what you’ve done or what’s happened to you. I choose to know who you are by experience. Okay?”

Could he leave it at that? He guessed so, for now. But soon, there’d be a right time to tell her what his true mission was. If he revealed too much too soon, she’d run; that’s what he’d been told. He’d imagined the conversation would come up naturally, but it hadn’t yet. What had seemed like waiting for the right timing now felt like dishonesty. He didn’t like it. And he didn’t know how long he could hold out. Without realizing it, his hand fell to his front pocket where he kept a folded page of the journal. He’d been instructed to make copies of the pages and when the time was right, begin.

Obscure. Infuriating. Necessary.

“Where’s your mind, soldier?”

Ian jumped. The words, words he’d heard many times, took him by surprise. It was Charlee’s voice. Not the one he knew so well. He angled to face her. “Can I read something to you?”

Her smile faded. “Okay.”

Ian’s heart pounded as he reached into his jeans and withdrew the page. It crinkled as he unfolded it. “It’s a letter home.”

Charlee placed her coffee mug on the railing and gave Ian her full attention while off in the distance, the sound of early morning birds pierced the sky.

The woods were still wet from last night’s rainfall, the sun glistening off the trees, making them appear trimmed in a diamond garland.

He didn’t read the heading.

In three days you’ll celebrate your birthday. I wish I could be there. To see your smiling face and watch you greet another year of your life. Sometimes it feels like I’ve already been gone for an eternity. And each new day I think the separation will get easier. But loneliness is always there, my constant companion, my closest friend. I’ve been here a long time. And I know this is where I’m supposed to be. But I feel like everything I’ve left behind is crumbling, seawater beating against the rocks, wearing them down. The corrosion of time taking what was once mine and layer by layer destroying it. You know the thing that keeps haunting me? I wonder if you remember the sound of my voice. Can you close your eyes and hear me? If I whisper something here, will it travel to your heart there, so many miles away? Close your eyes. Am I there? Do you hear me? Or have I waited too long? I love you.

Charlee’s hand landed on his. “Ian, that’s beautiful. Beautiful and tragic. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

Ian nodded, folded the page and slipped it back into his front pocket. “Yeah.”

“So much love in that letter.” Her gaze fanned to the mountains before them where evergreens reached to the sky, their branches stretching upward, searching for sunlight.

“Do you think the person who got the letter knew how much she was loved?”

Charlee’s shoulder tipped up. “How could she not? It’s so evident.”

“Some people have a hard time coming right out and saying things.” Careful, here. He knew he needed to tread lightly.

Charlee turned to face him. “You’d have to be an idiot not to know how that person feels.”

Ian nodded and made the decision, now was the time for Charlee to know. Everything. Right now.

“Okay.” She turned to him with a smile. “Enough deep talk for one day. Let’s go have some fun. I hear your boss is a complete slave driver.”

He could push, maybe even should, but fear kept him from it. “Don’t forget she’s also a control freak.”

She squeaked and put a hand to her heart.

“And a complete narcissist.” He looped a finger through one of the small holes in her tank top. She glanced down at it, shrugged.

Charlee pinned him with a finger. “You better take off those nice jeans, Pretty Boy. You’re going to get dirty today.”

Those words—innocent as they were meant to be—wrapped around his gut. He should drag her into his cabin. Instead, Ian disappeared inside. Alone. He hollered through the closed screen door, “She’s bossy too. Orders me around like I’m her personal servant.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.” He slipped out of his jeans and found a pair of gym shorts. Ian inspected his T-shirt in the mirror, decided all his shirts were old and left it on. “If it gets any worse, I may need combat pay.”

Through the window, he watched her fold her arms and drop her weight against the doorjamb. “I don’t give combat pay, soldier.”

He brushed past her, stepping into the fresh sunlight and shaking off the heaviness of earlier. “You should.” After tromping through the mud, Ian jumped into the Jeep and waited.

Charlee climbed into the driver’s seat and gave him a wicked smile. “Anything you’re scared of?”

His eyes widened. “I’d prefer to not have a bucket of snakes dropped on my head; other than that, I can’t think of anything.”

She pushed the clutch and revved the motor as the Jeep lurched forward. “Good. I’d hate to make fun of you if you’re a chicken. But I’d do it.”

“Hit me with your best shot, little girl. I think I can handle anything you’ve got.”

After climbing the first mountain and half sliding, half driving down the next, Ian wished he’d added a few things to his list of fears—death, for one. Charlee was a daredevil. Or crazed. Or had a death wish. Or all of the above. When he finally became confident in her mountain driving off-road ability, she was on to blasting through mud puddles and creek beds. Okay, so it was fun. More than fun, great. Adrenaline-pumping, heart-hammering great. Their flesh and clothing were spotted with enough mud they could easily camouflage themselves if need be by disappearing right into the ground.

After a couple hours, they stopped for lunch. Charlee dragged a cooler out of the back of the Jeep and tossed a blanket to Ian. They were along the creek where the water rushed down a four-foot waterfall and landed in a pool at the base. They were in a lush green valley and all around were mountains reaching to the sky. “We can clean off at the creek.” Charlee sat the cooler in the center of the blanket. She had dried mud on her hands, making them look ancient and cracked.

“You scared me half to death, you know?” He bent and scooped some water.

“Ah, only half?” She slipped her feet from her tennis shoes and stepped into the creek where shallow water bubbled over the rocks.

“Cute.” Ian didn’t bother taking off his shoes, but stepped in beside her.

“Careful! The rocks are really sl—”

Splash!
He disappeared below the water and came up sputtering.

“Slick.” Charlee laughed.

“You could have told me before I got in.” The water was cold and felt great after being pelted by mud that had hardened in the sun.

“What kind of an idiot gets into the creek without at least removing his shoes?”

He tucked under the water, t
hen came up fast, flinging the water in his hair in all directions. “The same kind who agrees to work for a slave-driving, bossy, know-it-all boss.”

She raised a finger. “You forgot narcissistic.”

He gave her a long look up and down. “I’ve decided to recant that.”

She splashed water onto her legs and arms, leaving a trail of mud in the sun-dotted creek. Ian found it difficult to stop watching.

To cool off, he ducked under again.

Before long, they were on the blanket eating sandwiches and chips. A few droplets still shimmered on Charlee’s tanned legs, but Ian felt surprisingly dry—between the heat outside and that generated by his internal temperature rising while he watched Charlee remove mud from her skin—yeah, his flesh was cooking.

“This had to be a great place to grow up.” He reached for the bag of chips.

“We lived at the edge of town. The house is still empty except when my brothers are on leave. We couldn’t bring ourselves to sell it. It still has too much of Mom.” She smiled sadly. “And now too much of Dad to get rid of it.”

Ian swallowed hard. She’d lost both her parents. He and his dad didn’t get along, but he couldn’t imagine a world without his parents. “You always lived here?”

“You sound surprised.”

He shrugged. “Military families. Usually move more.”

“Dad was stationed at Fort Cradler. It’s about an hour from here. When my mom got sick, we were never asked to move. After she died, Dad actually took a desk job at the base until me and Caleb could graduate.”

“A desk job?”

“Drove him nuts not being in the field. But he knew we needed one parent home. And Mom was gone.”

“Caleb is your younger brother, right?”

She took a bite of her sandwich. “By one year. He enlisted as soon as he graduated. Loves the army. The army and water, Caleb’s two passions.”

“Water?”

“He’s a swimmer. Would have gone into the navy if he hadn’t been afraid Dad would disown him.” Charlee handed Ian a bottle of water. “So, were you and Jeremiah close?”

“No. Not really.” Ian dropped his gaze and took a long drink.

“Did you know him when he was in Afghanistan?”

“Yeah.” He needed to move this conversation in a new direction. Fact was, it wasn’t Jeremiah who’d told him about the job. When he’d reached town he’d filled his tank at the gas station and inquired about the artists’ retreat. The guy behind the counter asked if he was there for the handyman job.

When Charlee opened her mouth to speak, Ian swallowed and angled to look at the waterfall. “It’s really cool here. Love the falls.”

“Yes. We’re on Caleb’s property right now. It’s a bit more rugged than mine, but Caleb is a total outdoorsy guy. It suits him.” She studied Ian for a few moments. “You know, you haven’t done the study for King Edward yet. Has he mentioned it?”

“No. And I hope he doesn’t. I can’t imagine stripping my clothes so he can stare at me naked.”

“It’s art, Ian. Not porn.”

He shuddered. “It’s my body, Charlee, and I don’t particularly like the idea of it being exploited on a canvas for all the world to see.”