Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Her Holiday Family\Sugar Plum Season\Her Cowboy Hero\Small-Town Fireman (28 page)

“Starving,” she replied in a voice tinged with desperation. “I put the last of my money in the gas tank this morning.”

Jason had a hard time accepting that someone in her family wouldn't at least send her some cash. “Do your parents know about the baby?”

“Sure they do. They offered to help me ‘take care of it.'” She spat the words with disdain. “When I refused, they told me never to call them again.”

The bitterness in her voice wavered, and her dark eyes filled with tears. Jason wondered if his mother had faced the same heartlessness from her own family and gave him up to make sure he'd be raised by people who would always love him, no matter how badly he messed up.

His instinct was to gather Rachel into his arms and comfort her, but he didn't want to create the wrong impression for her or the curious eyes he assumed were watching this little drama unfold. Instead, he took her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

“Rachel, look at me.” When he had her attention, he steeled himself against her tears and tried to think practically. “First, we're gonna go inside and get you something to eat. Next, I'll find you a place to stay the night, and tomorrow we'll figure out what to do.”

Sniffling, she blinked up at him in obvious confusion. “You mean, you're going to help me?”

“Did you come all this way thinking I wouldn't?”

“I was hoping.” He opened the door of the Whistlestop for her, and the scent of good Southern cooking spilled out into the night air. Taking a deep breath, she sighed. “That smells incredible.”

The place was about half-full, and he led her to a booth near the back where they could talk in relative privacy. After the waitress took her order, Rachel reached across the table to take one of his hands. “Thank you, Jason. I know this must be really hard for you, after the way things ended with us.”

Glancing down, he noticed the fingers on both her hands were bare. It hadn't been much of a diamond, but it had been the most expensive thing he'd ever bought that didn't have tires and a steering wheel. “Sold the ring, huh?”

Nodding, she frowned. “I'm sorry.”

By the misery clouding her features, he believed she meant it. Once he'd taken that in, he realized that if she kept apologizing to him, they'd both have to relive their failed engagement over and over. He saw no point in doing that, so he forced a smile. “You can quit saying you're sorry. I forgave you a long time ago.”

“You did?” When he nodded, she gave him a forlorn look. “How could you, when I haven't forgiven myself?”

The Rachel McCarron he'd known had never regretted anything. A free spirit in every sense of the word, she'd appealed to him for just that reason. Beautiful and untamed, she'd been driven by the wind to wherever she was headed next. At the time, the fact that she'd chosen to settle with him made him so proud, he'd ignored Paul's warnings about her, along with the ones in the back of his own mind.

At first, Jason had often pictured seeing her again, imagining what they might say to each other. As the months went by, those images had faded, and now all he felt for her was sympathy.

Once she had her food, he smiled to ease the sorrow clouding her face. “That was a long time ago, and it's best to leave it in the past. Now, eat up.”

Digging into her meat loaf, she hummed in appreciation. “This is awesome! It reminds me of that great little diner in Oregon you and Paul used to take me to. Who does the cooking here?”

“Molly Harkness. She and her husband, Bruce, have been keeping the town well fed since before I was born.”

“Do you think they need any kitchen help?” Rachel asked after wolfing down another bite. “I could wash dishes or something.”

Jason eyed her pregnant frame doubtfully. Slender as she usually was, he thought, all that extra weight must be murder for her to carry around. The last thing she needed was to be on her feet all day. “When're you due?”

“January twentieth.” Swallowing some milk, she added a wry grin. “Great way to start the new year, right?”

“Could be.” Chewing on that for a few seconds, he had a brainstorm. “Lemme check around town, explain your situation. Maybe someone's got some light work you could manage.”

“Do you really think anyone here will hire me? I mean, this is your hometown. They must all know how badly I treated you.”

More remorse, he thought. Maybe impending motherhood had forced her to mature a little and own up to her failings. Whatever the reason, it was definitely a step in the right direction. “These are good folks, and they've all made mistakes, too. I can't promise anything, but I'll try.”

“That's more than I could ask for,” she said with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“The Donaldsons here on Main Street have an apartment out back in an old carriage house. Paul and Chelsea moved out when they bought their house, and it's still empty. It's small, but the rent's cheap, and it'd be all yours. Plus, Hank and Lila would be nearby if you needed something.”

“When I said I have no money, I meant none at all,” she protested meekly. “If I can't get a job, that's not going to change anytime soon.”

“Let's just ask and see what they say.” Pulling out his cell phone, he made the call and got the response he'd expected.

“Oh, that poor thing, and at Christmastime, too. Bring her over, Jason,” Lila said without hesitation. “I'll send Hank out to raise the heat and turn on the lights. We'll work out the details later.”

“Thanks, Lila. We'll be there in a few minutes.”

While he paid the check, his gut was warning him to put some distance between himself and this particular damsel in distress. Amy's baffling reaction to Rachel's sudden appearance kept popping into his mind, and he resolved to smooth things over with her once he got Rachel settled. Women were complex, and it was best never to lose sight of that. If that meant a longer night than usual, Jason suspected in the long run it would be easier than trying to mend fences with one woman over helping another.

In the space of an evening, his life had gotten very complicated. He only prayed he could deal with the molehills before they became mountains.

Jason helped Rachel into the cab of the truck he'd thought he'd never see again and climbed in beside her. The interior was a disaster, and on the rear jump seat sat a single duffel bag.

“Have you been living in here?” he asked. When she nodded, he bit back a curse. “If I ever get my hands on Billy...”

“Please don't,” she whimpered, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the window. “I don't even want to think about that nasty piece of work. I just want to curl up in a ball on a real bed and go to sleep.”

In response, he started the truck and saw the low-fuel light was on. Fortunately, they didn't have far to go, so he made the short drive up the street to the Donaldson place. Just as Lila had promised, the carriage house was bright and inviting when he grabbed Rachel's bag and carefully walked her down the pathway to the front door.

Standing in front of it, she stared at the simple cottage with large, tear-filled eyes. Then she lowered her head and folded her hands in prayer. When she was finished, she looked up at him with an awed expression. “It doesn't seem like enough, but thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Opening the door for her, he followed her inside. “Where do you want your stuff?”

“Anywhere,” she answered, sinking onto the bed with a weary sigh.

Realizing she needed someone to take care of things for her, he left the bag on the floor of the single closet.

“So, the bathroom's through there—” he pointed “—and this is the kitchen.” When he opened the fridge, it was empty, and he frowned. “That's not good.”

“The story of my life.”

This defeated young woman was nothing like the vibrant, fearless Rachel he'd once known. Hopelessness did that to people, he knew, and he searched for a way to bring back even a sliver of her old optimism. Sliding his wallet from his back pocket, he thumbed through the cash he'd taken out of his account to buy Christmas presents. Removing half of it, he set it on the tiny kitchen table.

“I can't take your money,” she objected instantly. “After what I did to you, I couldn't live with myself.”

“It's not for you,” he reasoned in a stern tone very unlike him. Because of his own sketchy history, there was no way he'd be backing down on this one. “It's for your baby. You've got a month to go, and if it's gonna be born healthy, you have to eat right and take care of yourself. That little one's counting on you, and you're in no position to choose your pride over food.”

She gave him a wan smile. “You're right, but I'll pay you back. I promise.”

She'd made promises to him before that hadn't worked out, so he tucked this one away with a nod. If she ended up repaying him, he'd be happy. If not, he'd take it in stride. That was how things worked with Rachel; he'd learned that the hard way. She wasn't a bad person, but she wasn't all that reliable when it came to following through. He prayed motherhood would change that, but only time would tell.

“The bathroom's stocked, and the bed's made,” he said as he edged toward the door. “Need anything else?”

“Just a solid night's sleep.” Peeling back the covers, she slid beneath them and closed her eyes.

“Then I'll say good-night. I've gotta work in the morning, but I'll make some calls during my breaks and see if anyone's looking for help during the holidays. Sound good?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Since she was clearly too exhausted to take care of the lights, he flipped the switches, leaving the night-light in the bathroom on for her. There was a set of keys on the table, which he left for her. Setting the lock, he pulled the door shut behind him and headed back up the walkway. Inside the house, he noticed Lila standing in the kitchen window and held up his hand in thanks. She acknowledged him with a nod and turned off the light.

Keeping an eye on him, he mused with a grin. While he hadn't doubted their reaction to Rachel's plight, he appreciated Hank and Lila proving his claim that the residents of Barrett's Mill were good, helpful folks. As a single, expectant mother, Rachel needed all the grace she could get.

After a quick debate, he decided to leave his filthy truck where it was until he could give it a thorough cleaning inside and out. When he got to Arabesque, he noticed the lights were still on and knocked at the front door.

Stepping aside to let him in, Amy asked, “How did it go?”

“Which part?” He grinned, hoping to ease some of the tension he heard in her voice.

“Whichever part you want to tell me about,” she hedged, leading him back to her cozy office.

Decorated in classical theater and ballet posters, it reminded him of old movies where a character's luggage was plastered with stickers from other countries. As foreign to him as those faraway places, the designs were Amy's style, wrapping up her eventful life like colorful paper on a gift.

“I just heated water for tea,” she said as he settled into one of the threadbare velvet chairs. “Would you like some decaf coffee?”

“That'd be great.” In less than a minute, he had a steaming mug in his hands and took a long, appreciative sip. “Delicious.”

“I'm glad you like it.”

They traded a few more overly polite comments, and he stifled a groan. He'd gotten accustomed to the warm back-and-forth he enjoyed with Amy, and this was as far from it as he could get. It hadn't occurred to him that his encounter with Rachel would affect Amy so much, and he resolved to set things to rights as quickly as humanly possible.

“So,” he began, setting down his half-empty cup. “Should I start with Rachel past or Rachel present?”

Amy shrugged, but those gorgeous blue eyes darkened ominously. He didn't know what the color shift meant, but he instinctively didn't like it. So he spilled the whole crazy story, from the day he first met Rachel singing at a Renaissance fair in Seattle, to their months living in Oregon, to her pulling into Barrett's Mill in his stolen truck. When he was finished, he forced himself to smile. “So, that's everything.”

Without saying anything, she drank some of her tea and deliberately put her dainty china cup on its saucer next to the hefty mug she'd offered him. Pinning him with a direct stare, she asked, “How do you feel about seeing her again?”

He suspected she was fishing for something, but he had no idea what she was after. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

“She took off with a man you considered a friend, stole your truck and the ring you gave her.” To emphasize, she ticked Rachel's sins off on her slender fingers. “Now she's come crawling into town, asking you to help her? She's either completely destitute or she's got an awful lot of nerve.”

“Actually, it's both.”

“Oh, Jason,” she lamented with a pained expression. “Tell me you didn't give her any money.”

“She's got nothing but a duffel bag and a baby who needs to be fed somehow. What was I supposed to do?”

“You left the truck at the Donaldsons', didn't you?” When he nodded, she sighed. “What's to keep her from taking off again?”

Feeling quite proud of himself, he reached into his pocket and dangled the keys for her to see. “Unless she's learned how to hot-wire an ignition, she's not going anywhere.”

Amy's frown gave way to a smile, and she clapped quietly. “Very well played.”

“Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all month.” They both laughed, and he was relieved to have gotten through the tough part. “So are we okay?”

Tilting her head, she studied him through narrowed eyes. He knew her wariness was driven by Devon's betrayal and not anything Jason had done, but it still bugged him. Someday, he hoped he'd see nothing but joy in those stunning blue eyes of hers. “I'll be honest—I'm not crazy about this whole scenario. But I admire you for stepping up to give a hand to someone who seems to have no one else to turn to.”