Love Inspired March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Wife for Jacob\The Forest Ranger's Rescue\Alaskan Homecoming (48 page)

Lord, is there no escaping the memories in this place?

“Posy.”

She tore her gaze from the movement on the pond and aimed it toward the person manning the snack bar. “Liam?”

Touché, Lord.

* * *

For the life of him, Liam couldn't figure out what Posy was doing at the pond. It wasn't as though she could skate. Since she'd been back, he'd come to think of his skating rink as the one place he was sure never to run into her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, frowning. Apparently, she hadn't anticipated running into him, either. “You told me you didn't work here anymore.”

He shook his head. “I never said that.”

“Yes, you did. On my very first day back, right after you, um...”

“Saved you from the imaginary bear?” He lifted a brow.

Her cheeks went pink. “Saved me from your marauding dog.”

The dog. Where was the dog? Liam searched the crowd and spotted him sprawled on his massive belly, pond-side, decimating another one of the red plastic buckets that Ronnie used for hauling water to repair ruts in the ice. Super.

“I never said I didn't work here. I simply asked if you thought I did. There's a difference.” Liam passed two cups of hot chocolate over her shoulder to the couple waiting behind her. A line was beginning to form. “Besides, I don't technically work here.”

“Oh, I see. So I'm imagining things? Like the bear?”

Cute.
It was good to see she was getting her sense of humor back, even if the barbs were oftentimes directed at him. “I don't work here. I own the place.”

She blinked wordlessly.

Liam passed more hot chocolate over her shoulder. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Sorry. I'm surprised, that's all. You own the skating rink now? And you're the youth pastor. That's impressive, Liam. Really.” She looked at him, and for the first time since she'd come home, he felt like someone other than the boy she'd known in high school.

“Thank you.”

They stood there for a moment, neither one of them saying anything until Liam remembered that, yes, even though he owned the place, he was still manning the snack bar at the moment. “Did you, uh, want anything?”

“Oh. Oh, yes, of course. Two hot chocolates, please. Anya and Zoey sent me over here, and now I'm beginning to suspect I know why.”

Zoey again.

I saw the kiss, Liam.

Not only did he have to go and kiss Posy, but he'd somehow chosen to do it in front of her best friend from high school. Although in reality, it hadn't been a choice so much as a reaction to the situation. A reflex.

A mistake. Most definitely a mistake.

Now Zoey was playing matchmaker, and she'd recruited Anya to help. Just what he needed.

Liam's gut churned. “I'll get those two hot chocolates right away. I just need to change the music first.”

How long had the place gone silent? Out on the pond, the skaters were still moving in unending circles. Their laughter and the scratch of their blades as they slid over the ice were louder, exaggerated without the music from the antiquated sound system Liam had installed.

Truth be told, it was a bit of exaggeration to even think of it as a sound system. By the time he'd gotten around to thinking about music, the money he had to spend on the skating pond was running thin. Until he could afford something better, he'd been forced to make do with an ancient turntable and some secondhand speakers. Every time he put a record on, he felt as if he'd stepped into another era. Which sort of made sense at the moment. Time—past, present, future—seemed to have a way of blurring together whenever Posy was around.

He turned and lifted the needle on the record player to stop its endless motion, removed the shiny black vinyl album and replaced it with another. Over the speakers, sound crackled to life—a moment of scratchy anticipation followed by the crooning of Frank Sinatra.

He spun back around and handed Posy her two drinks. She took the paper cups, but didn't make a move to leave. Instead, she stood there, staring.

Liam frowned. “Did you need anything else?”

“Where did you get that?” She pointed at something behind him.

He followed the direction of her gaze. “The record player?”

“Yes. The record player.” There was an edge to her voice, and her hand trembled slightly. The liquid sloshed over the rim of one of the cups she held.

“At the church thrift store. It's ancient, but I guess that goes without saying.”

“The thrift store? I suppose that means it once belonged to someone here in town.”

Liam shrugged. “Probably.”

“Ouch.” She dropped one of the cups, and hot chocolate spilled all over the counter. “Oh, no. I'm sorry. Here, let me help you clean that up.”

“It's okay. I can do it.” He reached for a towel.

“Liam, I'm holding up the line. Let me help.”

Before he could stop her, she'd pushed through the swinging door of the shed and was standing beside him. In the space of the time that he'd cleaned up the spill, she'd filled cups of hot chocolate for three people and handed out two bags of popcorn.

“Thanks,” he said. “It's always crazy busy this time of night.”

“You're welcome.” She smiled and kept lining up cups, pouring drinks, making change.

Liam didn't have the luxury of time to feel awkward about her helping out behind the counter. He was grateful for the assistance. Besides, they'd been working together at the church for the past few weeks without managing to strangle each other, albeit not quite in such close proximity.

For the next half hour or so, they worked side by side until the line slowed. Customers showed up fewer and further between until finally it was time to close up shop.

Posy blinked as he slid the closed sign in place. “Closed? Already?”

“Take a look.” Liam nodded toward the pond, vacant now, save for Melody executing a perfect spin in the center of the ice and a lone figure standing on the edge watching. Ronnie.

“Look at that! That's a beautiful arabesque.” Posy narrowed her gaze. “Who's the skater?”

“Melody.”

“Melody? As in, Melody from ballet class?”

Liam clenched his jaw. “Melody. As in, Melody from youth group.”

The last time he'd checked, it was still a church, not a ballet school.

She jammed her hands on her hips. “Why didn't you tell me she could do that?”

“Skate?”

“No. Dance.” Something about the way she said it caused alarm bells to go off in Liam's head.

“She's not a dancer. She's a skater. She has a coach up in Anchorage on the weekends, but skates here during the week.”

“She mentioned something to me the other day about skating practice, and today her jetés were awfully impressive for a beginner, but I had no idea she could do...that.” Posy gestured toward the ice, where Melody was gliding in a smooth circle, balanced on one leg with the other stretched out behind her.

“Liam, this is perfect.” Posy clapped her hands. She seemed wholly unconcerned about the fact that her friends were nowhere to be seen and that Liam would have to give her a ride home, a detail which he was certain had been carefully orchestrated by Anya and Zoey.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“She's the answer.” Posy grinned.

She was up to something. He could sense it. Whatever that something was, it was sure to make him even more uncomfortable than the thought of giving her an innocent ride home.

He crossed his arms. “I must have missed the question. What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about the dance recital, silly.”

Of course. All ballet. All the time. “Oh. That.”

“Maybe I can feature her in a dance.” She was getting that faraway look—the one that meant her thoughts were whirling on pink-satin tiptoe and he may as well not exist. Which was fine.

If it's so fine, why does it bother you so much?

In the center of the ice, Melody slowed to a stop. She waved a mittened hand at Ronnie, still watching from the edge of the pond. He waved back. But when she skated toward him, he turned tail and stomped away.

“Did you see that?” Posy frowned. “I can't figure out if those two like each other or despise one another. What's with them?”

Young love.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Liam shook his head.

Beside him, Posy grew pensive. Quiet.

“Thank you again for all the help tonight.” She'd been on her feet for a long time. Too long. It couldn't have been good for her foot, but as usual, neither one of them broached the subject out loud. “I'll give you a lift home, since it looks like you've been abandoned.”

Her cheeks colored. The fact that Anya and Zoey had left her there was no accident. Posy knew it as surely as he did.

“I just need to go talk to Ronnie for a minute before we head out. Why don't you sit down and rest?”

“Okay. And Liam...” She gave him a thoughtful glance. One that told him that possibly, just possibly, she was thinking about something other than dance. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking
you
. You just pulled a two-hour shift behind this counter.”

“It was fun, actually.” Beneath the golden glow of the lights strung overhead, he could see her cheeks turn instantly rosy. She cleared her throat. “I mean, what else was I going to do? It's not like I could skate or anything.”

Was he imagining things, or was there a hint of longing in her voice? “Yeah, I guess not.”

She glanced at the mirror surface of the ice, empty now that Melody had gone. A smile tipped her lips, and for a moment, Liam could almost see skaters from years ago gliding and spinning in the reflection of her gaze.

He was losing it. Clearly. “I'm going to go talk to Ronnie now. I'll be right back.”

A little space. A little distance. That was what he needed.

Like the distance from here to San Francisco?

That was a thought he didn't want to contemplate. Not yet. But it wasn't as though he had a choice. She was leaving whether he was ready or not.

He was ready. Of course he was ready.

Chapter Thirteen

P
osy sank onto one of the benches at the edge of the pond to wait for Liam. She rotated her ankle a few times and was pleasantly surprised to find it no more tender than it had been earlier in the day. She probably shouldn't have been on her feet for so long tonight, but the time had passed quicker than she'd realized.

It had been nice helping Liam. Nicer than working with him at the church, where they pretty much avoided each other as much as possible. She wondered what that meant, if anything.

Stop overanalyzing things. It's good to be friends.

Friends. Was that what they were, what they'd become? Most likely, which was a good thing. Friends were important. Everyone needed friends.

Then why did the idea make her feel so profoundly sad?

She tried not to dwell on the matter and instead concentrated on pointing her toes, inasmuch as she could point them in her snow boots. She swished her foot through the snow in the shape of a half circle, executing a perfect, seated rond de jambe. The familiar motion took the edge off her worry, as barre exercises always did.

But as calming as she found the movement, Liam's dog thought otherwise. He bounded toward her, nose to the ground, tail wagging, and pawed at her foot.

“Hey there,” she said. And then, as more of an experiment than anything else, she added, “Sit.”

The dog cocked its head and plunked its rear on the snowy ground in a perfect sit position.

Posy smiled. “Well, what do you know? I suppose you're not all bad, are you?”

He let out a happy-sounding bark and panted, his massive pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. He wasn't such a monster, really. She'd noticed him creeping into her ballet classes every now and then. Yes, he had a tendency to overturn chairs whenever he was around, but she supposed that could simply be a result of his size. Really, did Liam have to choose such an enormous dog? Weren't there any Chihuahuas in Alaska, or was that strictly a California breed?

The dog stood. Posy told him to sit, and once again, he obeyed.

“Good boy,” she said and gave him a pat on the head as a reward. “You know what? I don't even know your name.”

She glanced at the red collar around his neck and checked it for a tag. Sure enough, she found one buried among the dog's thick, wooly coat. She tried to read the name etched on it, but had trouble seeing in the dim light. It appeared to start with an
S
. Or was that a
P
?

She turned the tag this way and that, until it caught a ray of light and she was able to make out the first letter. An
S
. Then the next two. A
U
, followed by an
N
.

S-U-N.

At the sight of those letters, Posy's throat grew dry. She knew the rest without even looking at them. But she squinted at the tag in the darkness anyway. She wanted to see the word. She
needed
to see it.

She bent closer and brushed the dog's dark fur out of the way. And there it was. She didn't know why Liam had chosen the name or what it meant. But it meant something. She was sure it did.

There was still so much she didn't understand. But at that moment, the only thing that mattered was the glow of warmth that this newfound secret kindled in her soul. A warmth that felt oddly like coming home. “It's nice to officially meet you, Sundog.”

* * *

Liam caught up with Ronnie just as he cranked the engine of his dilapidated truck to life.

Thinking of it as dilapidated was actually being rather generous. The outside was so weather-beaten that Liam couldn't tell what color the original paint job had been. What parts weren't rusted through simply appeared to be a generic metal color. And the interior looked as if it had played host to an entire family of Sundogs. It was a miracle the thing ran.

Liam knocked on the driver's-side window.

Ronnie rolled it down. “Oh, hi, Pastor. I thought it was okay to leave since everyone had gone home. Do you need something?”

“No.” Liam shook his head. “I just thought we should talk.”

“Um, now?”

“Now. Yes.” Liam shrugged. “It should only take a minute. And don't worry. You're not in trouble. I only wanted to ask you about what happened back there with Melody.”

“Nothing. I watched her skate. You told me I should, so I did.” Ronnie's shoulders sagged.

“And?”

“And she was good, just like you said. Really good.” The tone of his voice was wholly at odds with the words coming out of his mouth.

“Ronnie, be straight with me. I know you like Melody, and I'm pretty sure she likes you, too. So what's the problem here?”

“The problem is how good she is.” Ronnie looked Liam square in the eyes, and in that instant, it all became crystal clear.

Liam got it. Finally. He understood Ronnie. Not all that long ago, Liam had
been
Ronnie. “You're worried she's going to leave, aren't you?”

Ronnie shrugged. “Maybe.”

Never had a
maybe
sounded so much like a resounding
yes
. “I understand.”

Ronnie's brow furrowed. “You do?”

More than you know.

“Yeah, I do.” He took a deep breath and tried not to sound like the biggest impostor in the world, which was an awfully tall order. “But you can't worry about that now.”

“How can I not worry? We're graduating next year. She wants to train for the Olympics. There's some training place in Germany I heard her talking about. Germany. Do you know how far away that is?”

Four thousand miles, give or take. Although perhaps now wasn't the best time to point out the measured distance. “You're getting ahead of yourself, kid. You're worrying about things that may never happen.”

“But what if they do?” Ronnie peered up at him, and in the depths of his wide-eyed youth, Liam saw a spark of hope amid the sadness. Hope that Liam could fix things, that he would have all the answers.

Lord, help me out here.

“The future is messy, Ronnie. I wish I could tell you it wasn't. I wish I could tell you that you could spend time planning your future and that if you did everything right, all your plans would fall neatly into place. And I wish I could tell you that what you wanted would always fall in line with what the people you care about want, as well.” Oh, how he wished that.

He wanted the best for Ronnie. He wanted the best for all the kids. But was an easy, predictable future really best for anyone?

Ronnie sighed.

“No one knows what the future holds. Not me, not you and not Melody,” Liam went on. “That's one of the greatest joys of being human. What fun would life be without its surprises, its unexpected twists and turns?”

Surprises, unexpected twists and turns. Like Posy leaving...like Posy coming back.

He swallowed. “Don't let fear of the future stop you from caring about someone. You could miss out on something, on some
one
, who will change your life forever. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

“Yes, Pastor. I do.” Ronnie nodded. “It's just hard.”

“I know it is. Think about it, though, okay? And in the meantime, try to be nice to Melody.”

“I will.” He shifted the truck into gear.

Liam stepped back a few feet and waved. “Have a good night. You did a great job today at the snowball fight, by the way.”

Ronnie shook his head. “But we lost.”

“It was never about winning.” It had been about teamwork. About fun.

And maybe a little bit about winning, but only inasmuch as winning would have given him a better shot at being awarded the grant money he so desperately wanted for the youth group. At least they still had a shot at it with Posy's recital.

Please, God. Let that recital be a success.

He cleared his throat. What was he doing? He was worrying about the future, right after he'd encouraged Ronnie to live in the moment. Why did he ever think he could be a proper role model for these kids?

“Good night, Ronnie,” he said.

Ronnie gave him a halfhearted wave, rolled up the window and drove away.

Liam stood, watching him drive away, and wondered if what he'd said to the boy made him a hypocrite. Sure, it had sounded great. And the truth was, he believed every word of it. He believed in the joys and surprises of life. Those things were a gift from God. Blessings to be held tightly and cherished.

Then what am I doing?

He shoved his hands in his pockets and searched for Posy through the dizzying flurry of snowflakes. He found her in the distance sitting on one of the benches at the edge of the pond, moving her delicately arched foot in graceful circles on the snowy ground. The familiarity of the movement grabbed him by the throat. How many times had he seen her draw patterns on the floor with those toes of hers? Countless. Sitting in the bleachers at his baseball games, at her desk at school, even nestled beside him in the junker of a car—vaguely reminiscent of Ronnie's—that he'd driven in twelfth grade. He doubted she was consciously aware of it. It seemed purely instinctual, the way her feet were in constant motion. As if she'd been dancing someplace far away, even as she'd sat right beside him

He'd been so young then. Almost the same age as Ronnie. Too young to deal with the hand he'd been dealt—a girl he loved bent on destroying herself, coupled with the choice to follow his parents off on another adventure or stay and make a home in Aurora. Alone. All while he was still only in his teens.

How different would things have turned out if he and Posy had been older? If the events of the past had instead taken place now. Today.

Sometimes it felt uncannily as though they were.

He walked toward Posy through the flurry of the late-night snowfall, surprised when he grew closer and saw Sundog sitting calmly at her feet. The dog stood and wagged his tail when he saw Liam approaching. Then Posy said something to him, and he sat again.

“What's this?” Liam asked as he grew closer. “A secret double? Because this can't be my dog. I've never seen him sit still for this long without simultaneously destroying something.”

“I assure you he's yours.” She glanced up at him. There was an openness in her gaze that hadn't been there moments ago when they'd been manning the snack bar together. “This is Sundog.”

Memories swirled amid the snowflakes. A tree. A whisper. A kiss.

He held out his hand. “Come skate with me.”

“Skate with you?” She shook her head. “You know I can't.”

“Trust me, Posy.”
Trust me. One last time.

The trees surrounding the pond all held their breath and the snow flurries hung in the air, suspended, as Liam stood there offering her his hand. Ever so slowly, she smiled and placed her hand in his.

“Come on.” He pulled her to her feet.

Hand in hand, they walked to the snack bar, where he put another record on the record player and slipped his feet into his skates.

Posy watched him wordlessly, and for once the silence between them didn't feel loaded with bittersweet sadness. He laced up his skates, every one of his senses kicking into overdrive. He was hyperaware of Posy's gaze on him, the whisper of the cold winter breeze on his hands and face, and the breathless feeling of anticipation that lingered between the moment he set the needle on the record and the one in which the music came to life. An oldies ballad. The kind of song that couples swayed to long ago, back when slow dancing was still in style.

Once he was laced up, he stood and took her hand again. “Ready?”

She gave him a curious smile. “Maybe.”

“I told you to trust me. Come on.”

He led her to the pond, walking slowly through the rapidly accumulating snow so she wouldn't slip and hurt herself again. When they reached the ice, he stepped onto its smooth crystal surface. Maybe this was a crazy idea, and maybe he would regret it a month from now after she'd gone. But for right now, he wanted to heed his own advice and savor the moment. Live his life. Follow his heart. And what his heart most wanted was to dance with Posy Sutton.

“Dance with me.” He gave her hand a gentle tug and pulled her toward him.

He didn't need to tell her what to do. She already knew. How, he wasn't sure. They'd never danced like this before. In fact, they'd never danced together, period. Dance had always been her thing and hers alone. Something that separated the two of them more often than it brought them closer together. At school dances, he'd been too intimidated to dance with her. Music had never moved through him the way it did through Posy.

But now was different. He was different, and so was she.

Gingerly, she placed her feet on top of his so that she was facing him, standing on the boots of his skates, like a child first learning how to dance. She rested one hand on his shoulder and kept the other entwined with his. She looked up at him, and Liam watched as her graceful composure and staged confidence fell away. He was no longer a man looking at a dancer. He was a man looking at a woman.

“It's about time you asked me to dance,” she murmured.

Her upturned face was so close to his that their frosty breath commingled in the glacial Alaskan air. He looked into those gray eyes that were so often filled with storms and saw nothing but an elegant tranquillity, like the lifting of an evening fog.

She was beautiful. So beautiful. She always had been, but Liam didn't want to dance with a memory, a reflection of the past, no matter how lovely and familiar. He wanted something real. He wanted to dance with the grown woman Posy had become. The woman in his arms.

“I was waiting for the right moment,” he said, gliding his foot along the ice.

She laughed and tightened her grip on him as he moved them over the frozen mirror of the pond, linked foot to foot and hand to hand. Slowly at first, and rather shyly. But as the music played on, Liam's movements grew bolder, quicker. Soon they were spinning and floating with the wind whipping through their hair until it was no longer Liam guiding their steps, but the music.