Love Inspired March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Wife for Jacob\The Forest Ranger's Rescue\Alaskan Homecoming (43 page)

“Oh, burn!” one of them said.

“You got served, Pastor.” The other one jammed his hands on his hips. “You're not going to let her get away with that, are you?”

Liam wiped the snow from his face, ignored the kids and lifted a wet, angry brow at Posy. “I overlooked it when you maced me, but this is different.”

“How so?” she asked, feigning calm as she righted herself on her crutches and stood. Something had been let loose inside her, and it was unraveling. If it had been visible, it would have resembled pink satin ribbons spilling from her heart onto the glistening snow.

“Oh, I don't know. Over the course of the past few days I've been sprayed in the eyes with Aqua Net and taken two cheap snowball shots to the face. I suppose I've reached my limit.” He bent, scooped up a generous handful of snow and began methodically packing it into a tight ball.

“You're not going to hit me with that, are you?” she asked, pushing her wet hair from her eyes.

Oh, but that was exactly what he was going to do. She knew it. The kids knew it. Even the ridiculous dog knew it.

“Yes, I am.” He smoothed the snowball and held it in his open palm, letting it taunt her as it glistened in the sun. “Do you know why?”

Posy's hands shook, and her heart beat as if there were a wild bird trapped inside. “Do enlighten me.”

“Because that's what happens in a
snowball fight
!” It was nothing short of a battle cry, and as he let the snowball go, the kids charged onto the field, yelling, hollering and scooping up snow in a frenzy of winter madness.

The dog seemed to be everywhere at once, barking and bounding through the snow, his massive, wagging tail flinging fresh white powder over anyone within ten feet.

Posy ducked. Liam's snowball flew overhead, as did about a dozen more. She clawed at the snow, her fingertips going numb. When a wet mass of snow hit her shoulder, she all but gave up on forming balls and simply threw handfuls of snow in Liam's direction.

She had no idea how many, if any, made contact. She could barely see. The air was a blinding fog of snow swirling amid echoes of teenage laughter. For a moment, time seemed to move backward. She'd been here before. In this same field. Tossing snowballs. Laughing, tumbling on the snowy ground in Liam's arms. Years ago. Before everything had gone so horribly wrong.

Before the pain.

Before the rain.

How long had it been since she'd been in an actual snowball fight? She couldn't remember. Snow wasn't exactly commonplace in San Francisco. Neither was free time. Time to just
be
. She always had someplace to go, something to do. Dress rehearsals, fittings, dance practice. Barre classes. So many barre classes over the years that she couldn't begin to guess how many. Yoga, to keep her muscles stretched and loose. Ice baths. Epsom-salt baths. Anything and everything to keep her body dancing.

And stretching. She was always stretching. When she wasn't stretching at the barre or on the smooth wood floor of the studio, bathed in light from windows that led to a world she'd forgotten even existed, she was stretching on the floor of her apartment while watching television. Or in her kitchen, an oddly perfect place, as the countertop was within an inch of barre height. She even stretched at the supermarket. Or practiced her barre exercises. Relevés while holding on to her grocery cart. Tendus in the checkout line. Arms moving automatically through a complete port de bras while reaching for the canned soup.

Every moment of her life was somehow choreographed into a dance. She'd forgotten what it felt like to use her body for anything else.

A snowball hit her in the back, and she wobbled in the shin-deep snow. Her crutches lay forgotten, tossed at odd angles on the ground. She needed her hands for more important things at the moment, although she'd all but lost feeling in her fingers. Even her feet were going numb. The muscles in her arms burned from the unfamiliar motion of all the throwing. But it was a delicious burn. The burn of movement.

She heaved snow at anyone she could see. She'd completely lost track of Liam in the frenzy. But she could feel his presence in every snowflake. And for the first time since she'd been back, she didn't shy away from it. She simply lifted her face to the sky and let the snow dance coolly against her skin.

She was home. She was doing something that had nothing to do with dance. For the briefest of moments, she was inexplicably happy. Full of the kind of joy she hadn't realized she'd been missing.

Until Melody Tucker ran past, tripped over one of the discarded crutches and slammed into Posy's side. In an instant, the beautiful snow-globe world came crashing to a shattering end. Posy twisted to the ground, her body going one direction as her injured foot stayed facing another, unable to move, anchored in the snow by the weight of her plaster cast and all the dreams she wasn't ready to give up.

Chapter Eight

“P
astor! Help!
Pastor!
”

Liam knew something was wrong the moment he heard Melody's screams. There was a panic in her voice that went beyond games and playing in the snow.

“Melody?” He dropped the snowball he'd been holding. “Where are you?”

He couldn't see a thing. The kids were all over the place, and a thick layer of white hung in the air, obscuring everything. He was standing in the middle of a snowstorm, being assaulted on every side. “Everyone, stop. Please.”

He used a voice he'd never used before with the kids. One that he'd never wanted to use. But it worked.

Everyone came to a standstill, and through the swirling snow, he spotted Melody. She appeared to be perfectly fine. Still standing. Uninjured, as far as Liam could tell. Relief skittered through him. Then he spotted a figure at Melody's feet, and his heart stopped.

Posy.

He ran to her as quickly as the snow would allow, which wasn't nearly fast enough. He felt as though he were trudging through a foot of wet sugar. When he reached her, it was painfully obvious that she was hurt. She'd gone pale, drained of any hint of color, as though she'd been born of the snow. His gut twisted at the sight of her.

Tears streamed down Melody's face. “I tripped and knocked her down. She made a terrible sound. I think it's her hurt foot. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.” She hovered around Posy, clearly wanting to do something to help, but not having any idea what might be effective.

Liam knew precisely how she felt.

“Posy.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “What's wrong?”

“I fell.” Her voice was robotic, devoid of any and all emotion, as if she were talking about someone else. Someone neither one of them knew. “I fell and twisted my foot. The injured one. It made a noise.”

“A noise?” That couldn't be good.

She nodded, and it was then that he noticed the tremble in her lower lip. He could feel the tears she was trying so hard to keep inside. It was as if they were welling up in his own chest. If he closed his eyes, he could see them, as clearly as he'd seen the tears she'd shed the night of the accident. Tears he still saw when he allowed his thoughts to drift back to that night, which was something he hadn't done in years.

Until last night.

“I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry, Posy,” Melody said through her sobs. She was crying in earnest now, all the tears the rest of them were holding inside.

“This isn't your fault. It was an accident, Melody. Everything is going to be fine. I promise,” Liam said. He wished with everything in him that Posy had been the one to reassure her.

He told himself she was in no condition to think about the girl's feelings. There was no way she could blame anyone for what had happened. They'd been messing around. Accidents happened. If anyone was to blame, it was him. He'd been the one in charge.

“Are you sure?” Melody blinked up at him with wide eyes.

Ronnie stepped forward and slipped an arm around her shoulders.
Interesting.
“Sure it is. Pastor will take care of Posy. Won't you, Pastor?”

Liam's own words came back to him with sickening clarity.

I'm not your keeper, Posy. Not anymore.

He pushed them away.

“Of course I will.” He bent and gathered her lithe form in his arms. He placed one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back and he stood, cradling her. Even with the added bulk of her winter coat, she was featherlight. An injured bird.

“Liam, you don't need to carry me.” Even as she protested, she melted into him.

He wasn't sure why he'd expected her to stiffen against his touch. She was accustomed to being carried, after all. She was a ballerina. He hadn't been the last man to wrap his arms around her. There had been others. There would be more. Men whose names Liam didn't even know. Men who would hold her, guide her movements, dance with her before hundreds of people and think nothing of the fact that in the palms of their hands rested a treasure.

“Liam,” she whispered, her head falling against his shoulder. “I need to get to Anchorage. My doctor's card is in my dance bag.”

He looked down as her eyes drifted closed. The tip of her nose was pink from the cold, as pink as the roses she'd always loved. Tiny crystals of snow sparkled in her eyelashes. In that moment, she was quintessentially Alaskan. The old Posy. From the looks of things, she was also in quite a bit of pain. “Don't worry about a thing. I've got you.”

I've got you.

Those three words weighed more than the woman in his arms.

He fixed his gaze on Ronnie. “Get my cell phone from the office and call Zoey Wynne. Tell her I'm bringing Posy to the airport, and she needs to get to Anchorage right away.”

Ronnie nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“And Melody, do you know where Posy's dance bag is?” Liam asked.

“Yes.” She nodded, and Liam couldn't help but notice that her tears had dried in the space of time that Ronnie had held her hand.

“Go get her doctor's business card. Meet me at the Northern Lights Inn. We need to get her on a plane. Got it?”

“Yes.” She nodded again and dashed off in the direction of the church.

The next half hour passed in a blur. Once he'd gotten Posy safely tucked into Zoey's tiny plane, he could scarcely remember driving her to the airport, couldn't recall a thing he'd said to Zoey even though he was positive they'd spoken. He wasn't altogether sure which of the kids was watching his dog. It probably didn't matter. No matter who had the beast, by the end of the night there would be property damage. It was a veritable certainty.

As he stood on the frozen lake and watched Posy float into the sky toward Anchorage, he could remember only two things with absolute clarity—the weightless serenity with which she'd rested in his arms and the bittersweet kiss he'd pressed to her lips right before he shut the airplane door.

* * *

“You've got a sprain of the anterior talofibular ligament. Grade one, if you're lucky. Possibly grade two. We can't know for certain without an MRI.” The doctor shrugged. “Not that it matters.”

But it did matter. It mattered very much.

Posy took a deep breath and clutched the edge of the examination table. Its paper cover crinkled beneath her legs, and she heard a rip form. Just like the one in her ligament.

Grade one indicated stretching and damage to the fibers of the ligament. Grade two, on the other hand, meant at least a partial tear. When had her body become as fragile as paper?

Zoey reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. It was funny how that squeeze seemed to be the only thing holding her together. For the time being, at least. “Why do you say it doesn't matter, Doctor?”

“It doesn't really make a difference at this point because the protocol is the same for both. We use the acronym RICE, which stands for Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation. All things that Miss Sutton should be doing already, since she's recovering from a stress fracture.” The doctor crossed his arms and eyed her as though she were one of Liam's rambunctious teenagers.

This was not good. She needed this doctor on her side. Without a note from him clearing her of any medical issues, the company wouldn't let her dance. “I am. I
am
doing those things. You have my word. I'm one hundred percent committed to getting better.”

He lifted a brow. “Then explain to me again how exactly this sprain occurred.”

Posy's throat went dry. “Um.”

Why couldn't she force the words out?

Because you had no business romping around on crutches, throwing snowballs like a kid.

“It was just a silly accident. A snowball fight, of all things.” Zoey waved a dismissive hand. “It could have happened to anyone.”

But it shouldn't have happened to
her
. That was the point. She should have never placed herself—her body, which was supposed to be healing from an injury—in such a vulnerable position.

She deserved worse than a lecture from an Anchorage doctor whom she'd just met. Far worse. She deserved to be strung up by the ribbons of her pointe shoes.

A snowball fight? Really? What had she been thinking? She hadn't been thinking at all.

You were having fun. For a few unrestrained moments, you had a ball.

Her grip on the edge of the exam table tightened. Paper crumpled in her fists. She wasn't here to have fun. She was here to rest, recuperate and teach ballet. Ballet was all the fun she needed.

“I suggest you avoid any more snowball fights, at least for the time being. Understood?” The doctor reached into the pocket of his white coat and pulled out a prescription pad.

Posy nodded. “Understood.”

“Do we need to come back for the MRI you mentioned?” Zoey asked.

Posy didn't know what she'd do without her. The thought of riding to and from doctors' appointments with her mother was unbearable.

The doctor shook his head. “No. That won't be necessary. Time will tell us all we need to know.”

Time. The one thing that Posy didn't have.

The throbbing in her head began to rival that in her foot. She pressed her fingertips against her temples.

Zoey laid a hand on Posy's shoulder. “Are you okay? You still look awfully pale.”

No. I'm about as far from okay as I can possibly get.
“I'm fine. Really.”

Dr. Cooper scribbled something on his pad. “I'm writing a prescription for painkillers. They'd go a long way toward making you feel more comfortable, particularly at night.”

Zoey glanced at Posy. Posy's gaze dropped to her lap.

“These should help you get some sleep. I want you to remember that rest is crucial to your recovery.” He ripped the page from the pad and offered it to her.

Posy stared at the square sheet of paper for several long moments before finally taking it and handing it straight to Zoey. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“You're welcome. I'll see you in five days for a follow-up. I was hoping to get you out of your cast by then, but with this new hiccup, we'll just have to wait and see.”

Wait and see. Wait, wait, wait. “I understand.”

“Remember—RICE. Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation. Absolutely no more snowball fights. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“See you in five days. You two have a safe flight back to Aurora.” He gave them a curt nod and left the room.

Just the thought of climbing back inside Zoey's airplane and flying to Aurora was exhausting. So much had happened today. Oddly enough, her injury wasn't the thing that troubled her the most. It was that kiss.

Liam had kissed her.

Right as he'd tucked her into Zoey's plane, in the final seconds before takeoff, he'd given her a look so tender that her heart had broken as surely as the bone in her foot. Then he'd touched his lips to hers.

It had been the softest of kisses, like a snowflake landing on her lips. Gentle and delicate.

But what on earth had it meant? And why was that simple kiss weighing on her mind more than her injured foot? Her foot should be her one and only concern right now.

She wished she could close her eyes and wake up the next morning in her bed back in San Francisco. No cast on her foot. No Alaska. No snowballs. No kissing her high school boyfriend.

“Ready?” Zoey asked, slipping Posy's prescription into her handbag.

Posy averted her gaze. “Let's go.”

The flight home was oddly peaceful. The sun had begun to set, and the more time passed, the more Posy felt as though they were disappearing into the sky's indigo shadows. She looked down at the chunks of ice breaking away from the moody gray Alaskan shore and thought it was the perfect place to be at the moment. In between worlds. Drifting. Neither here nor there. It was the exact way she'd felt ever since she'd fallen out of her arabesque.

They traveled in silence for a while as Zoey made small adjustments to the yoke and the plane rose and fell over the misty blue tree line. Snow began to gather beneath them, and soon Posy couldn't tell whether they were moving over land or sea. Everything below was a swirl of soft white vapor, delicate and otherworldly. Like traveling through a dream.

Despite the pain in her foot, when at last Zoey broke the silence, Posy had nearly nodded off.

“So how did it go today? Other than the sprained ankle, I mean,” she said.

“Awful.” Posy wasn't sure she'd ever be able to listen to Prokofiev again without imagining a roomful of teen girls looking at her as if she were crazy.

“Come on. It couldn't have been that bad.”

Oh, but it could. Worse, even. “It was. Trust me.”

Zoey flipped a yellow switch on the plane's control panel. “How so?”

“I thought I'd be teaching little girls. I had the wrong lessons, the wrong music. I brought them
teddy bears
, for goodness sake. I had no idea they'd be teenagers. It caught me completely off guard.”

Zoey turned to look at her. “You mean you came all the way here to teach ballet, and you never asked the ages of the kids?”

“Your reaction is the same as Liam's. He said the exact same thing.”

Zoey's gaze returned to the view out the plane's tiny windshield. “Well, he has a point, don't you think?”

“Never mind Liam. He's the least of my problems right now.” If that didn't paint a perfect picture of the sad state of affairs, nothing would.

The plane drifted on in shadowy silence until Posy felt sufficiently bathed in darkness to admit the hard truth. “They hated me.”

“Who? The girls?” The tenderness in Zoey's voice was palpable. “I'm sure that's not true.”

“They must. At the very best, they find me patronizing. It was terrible, Zo.” An epic disaster. The cathartic act of pelting Liam with snowballs had made her forget it for a time, but as the plane crawled back to Aurora, the morning's humiliation was returning full force.