True Devotion

  “Kelly, the best I could do was talk her out of catching a flight back last night.”

  Knowing her friend, that in itself would have been a challenge. “If I’m about to have more company, then I’m going to brave looking in that mirror.” She eased herself to the edge of the bed.

  “Take your hairbrush.”

  “I didn’t see any makeup.”

  “You don’t need it.”

  She sent him an amused, knowing look. “Right. You didn’t want to figure out what to bring.”

  “Guilty. You’ll have to borrow from Liz.”

  “Since I can’t put on lipstick, I probably shouldn’t care.”

  She turned on the light in the bathroom and froze. “Joe! Why didn’t you tell me I have a nice black eye?”

  “You haven’t had breakfast yet,” he replied, holding back laughter. “Bad news before you eat isn’t fair.”

  She gingerly touched the black ring under her left eye. “The last one of these I had was when Nick beaned me with that line drive hit.” She had been playing third base in the Coronado charity softball game; her husband was on the opposing team. The game was tied, and a cheer went up when Nick made contact with the second pitch. It had shot down the third baseline right at her. With no time to get her glove up, she tried to twist out of the way but was hit instead. She dropped like a rock. She had never seen her husband so rattled. It took her days to shake off the concussion. “How’d I get this one?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “No.”

  She washed her face, then looked with resignation at her matted hair. Long, thick, black, and wavy, her hair was prone to tangle, and salt water severely aggravated the problem. She had always wished the sun would lighten it to at least a glowing sable, but it just stayed a light-absorbing dark.

  Her eyes watered as she tried to work the brush through her hair. She soon realized the task was going to be nearly impossible. She lowered her arms, feeling the strain of simply keeping them raised. “I need a pair of scissors.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She smiled. He was going to love this complaint. “My hair.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  She leaned around the doorway. “There speaks a guy with a military haircut.”

  “True.” He pulled over the other chair. “Come sit down; I’ll do it for you.”

  “You?”

  “Hey, my dog doesn’t have any complaints.”

  “Joe—” She smiled as she chided him for the teasing. She looked back in the mirror and lifted a matted strand of hair. It looked about like Misha’s on a bad day.

  “I’ll go easy.”

  She remembered Nick brushing her hair occasionally, how intimate the action could be when it was meant as more than an impersonal touch. “I need the help.” She took the seat he had pulled over and held the brush out.

  Joe turned her slightly away from him and gathered her hair back. “You’ve been letting it grow.”

  “Yes.” Her voice had gone husky.

  “I like it long.”

  He didn’t say anything else, and after a few moments Kelly relaxed her initial stiffness and closed her eyes to simply enjoy the sensation. It took patience to brush it out section by section like Joe was doing, pausing to work out each tangle. It was a soothing feeling.

  Her thoughts drifted as the silence lengthened.

  Why had she said I love you? She didn’t intend to say the words. She probably embarrassed him—she knew him long enough to know that. He’d handle it tactfully, but he wouldn’t ignore it—she was also certain about that.

  She loved who Joe was. Everything about him: his character, his absolute honesty, his tact, his self-discipline, his leadership. She had been comfortable with him since the day Nick introduced them. She trusted him. When he had shown up in the water and slid his arm around her, held her tight, she knew she was finally safe. She knew he would come. Years of depending on him and he never let her down. He was a wonderful friend.

  But she wanted something more. She was glad her head was bent and her expression hidden because she had the awful suspicion that she was blushing. Her emotions were confusing. This was Joe, and she’d just managed to throw her ability to think about him as her friend totally off. She was incredibly aware of him at the moment, every move he made as he brushed her hair. Having his arms wrap around her again, by choice . . . She sighed, admitting the obvious. It would be wonderful—and the idea scared her to death.

  Joe had a romantic streak. He’d brought a few dates to the platoon gatherings over the years and she had seen how he treated his dates. When Joe chose to focus on a woman, he made her life very special. And he wasn’t dating anyone now, hadn’t since Nick was killed—

  She stopped herself abruptly. This was Joe. Her best friend.

  Her emotions had said I love you. He was a great-looking guy, with all the right personal qualities to make her want to hold on to him and not let go. She did want something more with him.

  But her logic was having fits. Joe would never want to date her. She was Nick’s wife. And she didn’t want to marry an active duty SEAL again. She didn’t have the courage to pace the floor and wonder if Joe was going to come home. She needed to marry a civilian. If the intervening years had taught her anything, it was that she didn’t have the courage to face possibly losing a husband again.

  It felt like two sides of her were locked in a tug-of-war.

  Could it even work for them to be more than just friends? Between friendship and marriage there was only room to get hurt. And she was getting the jitters even thinking about it.

  She gave up trying to decide what she wanted. In the end it would not be her decision to make. It would be Joe’s. Everything was a moot point unless he wanted to change their present relationship.

  Lord, please don’t let what I said ruin a good friendship. Please.

  She let her head drop forward a little more as Joe worked out a tangle in the ends of her hair. The brush caught. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. She didn’t dare say more.

  His hands settled on her drooping shoulders. “Come here.” She gave a start from her wandering thoughts to hear the amusement in his voice. He turned her toward him and she didn’t even hesitate. She leaned her head forward against his shoulder and relaxed. His arms encircled her. “I’m only half done.”

  “Fine.” She would love to curl up in the warmth she could feel coming through his shirt. She could go back to sleep right here. He felt like a grizzly bear, so wide was the expanse of his chest.

  She felt his quiet laughter. “Not fine. Now only half of you looks like a rag mop.” He rubbed her upper arms. “Five more minutes.”

  “Later.”

  He held her for a few minutes, his head leaning down against hers. Not quite asleep, not quite awake, Kelly found it to be a tranquil place, safe. And better than she had ever imagined it would be. She didn’t get held very often anymore, and Joe . . . She would savor this memory. “Bear?”

  The hand idly rubbing her back paused. “Hmm?”

  “Thanks.”

  She smiled when he kissed her hair.

  “Come on. Back to bed.”

  Six

  * * *

  “Go home, Joe.” Kelly could tell he was tired, even he couldn’t cover up the fatigue of two days with broken sleep. And watching him sit there—reclining in the hospital chair, his hands folded across his chest—was very distracting. She noticed everything about him, unfortunately couldn’t help but notice, and it was driving her crazy. A day ago he had been contained in a box called friend. Now it was impossible to put him back into it.

  It had been a long day with a steady stream of visitors. After Liz had come, the guys from Golf Platoon and then friends from work and church had stopped by. She was exhausted.

  “You sure?”

  “I’m going to read for a while then call it a night.”

  He hesitated for a moment, showing a
reluctance she found endearing. He nodded. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “After your run.”

  “After my run.” He tweaked the edge of her pillow as he got to his feet. “You just want to sleep in.”

  “You got it.” When he leaned over, his hands resting on the edge of the mattress, Kelly moved her head back a few inches on the pillow to look at him. He really was an attractive man, and it wasn’t just her biased opinion. Ruggedly handsome. Fine lines around his eyes, and that tan— The places her thoughts went when she was tired.

  “You did a good job, Kelly, but let’s not do this again, okay? You scared a few years off my life.”

  She let out a soft breath, the emotions in his eyes delivering a pounding. She had really shaken him. “Okay.” She was crossing a line that was dangerous, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her fingers trembled a bit as she reached up and brushed his cheek, smiling as she deliberately lightened her voice. “But don’t worry, on you early gray hair will look distinguished.”

  She had surprised him. She saw it in his eyes as they flared with warmth and he smiled. He captured her fingers and squeezed them. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  His words were manna to her heart. “I’ll be more careful in the future.”

  “Thank you.” Joe eased back, breaking eye contact, letting her breathe again. He reached over and knuckled her stuffed animal. “Good night, Bo-Bo.” He looked back at her. “G’night, Kelly,” he said softly.

  “’Night, Joe.”

  The balloon tied to the bouquet of flowers her partner Alex had brought fluttered as Joe left. Be still my heart. . . . What had she gotten herself into? It stretched like a tantalizing promise ahead of her, whispering hope.

  Kelly leaned her head back against the pillow. Intense emotions were exhausting. She definitely needed to sleep on this new turn of events.

  She reached over and picked up her Bible, wanting at the end of what had been a life-changing twenty-four hours to spend it as she hoped to go on. She wasn’t sure if anything would have an impact on the first day back into reading God’s Word, but she was determined to make it a habit again.

  Her bookmark was in John 5, left there from weeks before. “Do you want to be healed?” The question Jesus asked the man who had been ill for thirty-eight years stopped her cold, and she knew she would have to face that question herself. Did she really want to change? Was her resolve going to last once she was back in her daily routine?

  I do, Lord. I want regular devotions back, regular prayer. I didn’t intend to let a separation happen, and I want to change that. It’s going to be hard to leave behind the lingering anger over what I lost, the grief when I think about what could have been with Nick, but I am determined to try. And what’s going on with Joe . . . Lord, I’m going to need a lot of wisdom in the next few days. Would You—

  A tap on the door interrupted her.

  “Ryan! Come in. It’s good to see you.”

  He came into the room on crutches, tall, lanky, moving with the awkward grace of a teen. “Hi, Mrs. Jacobs.”

  She found his formality endearing. “Try Kelly; you’ll make me feel old with that Mrs. Jacobs.” She closed her Bible with a slight tinge of guilt, but the interruption was unavoidable. “Joe didn’t tell me you banged up your ankle.”

  “Twisted it when the surfboard crashed me into the face of that last wave.”

  “How long will they stick you on crutches?”

  “Maybe a couple of days. It was either crutches or a wheelchair in the hospital.” He settled into the chair Joe had occupied most of the day. “My dad is behind me—he got caught by a page he had to answer.”

  Kelly nodded and wondered if she had time to move from the bed to a chair before the man arrived. “Did he give you a tough time?”

  “He was too glad to see that I was awake and okay. Listen, Kelly—before he gets here—my dad is probably going to want to say thanks in a tangible way.”

  “Ryan, thank you is all I want. I’m not expecting a gift.”

  Ryan appeared embarrassed by what he wanted to say. “No, you don’t understand. Dad isn’t the type to give just any gift. It tends to be extravagant. Would you please just accept it, whatever it is? It would mean a lot to me.”

  Kelly was puzzled by the plea. “Ryan—”

  A tap on the door interrupted them.

  Ryan was dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt, but his father was not. It was rare to see a dress shirt, dress slacks, and a silk tie in a hospital, even if the tie was loose and the shirt cuffs were rolled up. Ryan’s dad must have come from work yesterday and never been home. He was carrying a wrapped package.

  Her hand instinctively straightened her sweater.

  “Kelly, this is my dad, Charles Raines.”

  She returned his smile and held out her hand, trying to ignore the embarrassment of having to meet him from a hospital bed. “Mr. Raines.”

  Her hand was enveloped in his and held in a comfortable grip. “It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Jacobs.” She liked the gentle tone of his voice, his smile, although his gray eyes were hard to read, the color unusual, not cold but cloudy gray. “I’ve been hearing all about your adventure.” He took the second chair.

  Adventure. Kelly approved of his word choice. It had almost been a tragic accident, but it had been an accident. If he had overreacted, Ryan might never surf again.

  She could see the toll last night had taken on Charles; the man didn’t look like he had had much sleep. For a father to face the possible loss of his son . . . There were few things more tragic. Even the loss of a spouse did not equate with the loss of a child. She had struggled to hold on to the boy; Charles had struggled to hold on to hope. If Ryan was not in the room, she would have apologized for the duration of the rescue.

  “Please, it’s Kelly. Ryan slept through the fun parts.”

  He acknowledged the quiet message with a gaze that held hers and a slight nod. Ryan wouldn’t have memories of what had happened last night. The man deliberately relaxed and smiled back at her, taking her by surprise as she was enveloped in the warmth of his eyes. “So he told me. He’s begging for a repeat helicopter ride.” There was laughter in his words as he glanced with affection at his son.

  “Dad said maybe. That means yes.”

  Kelly had to laugh at the boy’s confidence. She remembered Ryan saying it was only him and his dad. It was pretty obvious the two of them were close.

  “We meant to come down earlier. I would have enjoyed meeting your husband, but we got tied up with visitors.”

  Her husband . . . She struggled not to blush as the comment flustered her. “Oh—no, that was Joe. He’s a good friend. He was the one who found us last night.”

  “Lieutenant Baker? Now I’m really bothered we didn’t get down here earlier.”

  “He’ll be back in the morning. I told him to go home and get some sleep.”

  “Your husband?”

  “He passed away a few years ago.”

  “I’m sorry. I know what that is like.” She saw in his eyes that he did, and it made him infinitely more approachable. She had never been comfortable around the very wealthy, and right or wrong, she had pegged Charles as that with Ryan’s casual words about where they lived. He was slipping under that caution by creating a common ground between them.

  She turned her attention to Ryan. “No problems from our swim besides the ankle? Not even a sniffle?”

  “No. Did I give you that black eye?”

  “Would you believe I don’t remember?”

  “It looks like it hurts.”

  She didn’t want to leave that impression. “Only when I forget and rub my eyes.”

  Charles was not quite so willing to accept her words. “No double vision?”

  She glanced back at him and she shook her head. “My eyesight’s fine.”

  “I’m grateful you were there, but I hate seeing you pay this kind of price for having helped.”

  “Relax. It’s not my first
ocean swim. I may end up with a cold, but that’s about it.”

  “Is there anything you need? Anything we can bring you?” Charles offered.

  “Joe stopped by my place and packed for me.”

  “The bear looks old.”

  She looked at it and felt childish now about having it with her. “Yes. My husband bought him for me ages ago.”

  Charles picked it up. “It’s certainly more practical than flowers.” The expression on his face became distant. “My wife used to buy me little carved figures of jade lions, bears, pandas—so there would be something to put on the hotel dresser when I traveled that would remind me of home.” He smiled at her as he put the bear down. “Jade isn’t as huggable.”

  “No.” He was lonely. She could hear it in his voice, and she wondered why he hadn’t remarried long ago. A good-looking, wealthy man with a teenage son? It couldn’t have been for lack of candidates.

  “We brought you something.” Charles held out the box.

  Kelly saw Ryan’s silent plea as she accepted the gift, not sure what to expect. It had always been easier to give gifts than receive them. Her hands fumbled with the tape, her fingers not cooperating, making a lie to what she had said about being fine. Her body wasn’t quite as resilient as that of a teenager. Charles stilled her hands and broke the tape for her. She glanced up, met his gaze, then quickly looked back at the gift.

  The lid on the box came off easily and she moved the tissue paper aside. It was a rosebud vase made of fine porcelain. She lifted it from the box with great care and let it rest against her palms. It was absolutely lovely.

  “Dad brought it from the Orient.”

  Charles met her gaze with a smile, without changing his relaxed posture. “Pretty, but not so expensive it should sit on a shelf and not be used,” he noted. “We’ll bring you a rose for it tomorrow.”

  Not totally the truth. She had a feeling that the age she sensed in the piece was real, not a good replication. She felt inept in situations like this. She glanced again at the vase, traced the design. “Maybe a pink one to match this rose?”

  “Of course.” The warmth in his voice grew. “That would be a pleasure.” Kelly could see where Ryan got his charm.