Noah had come for her.

Ruth stepped toward the plane and the man standing near the doorway. She gazed at Noah, at his muscular chest, at his firm lips. The cold, remote look etched across his features signaled that his attitude about her profession hadn’t changed.

Sighing, Ruth grabbed the plane’s railing and pulled her tired body up the steps. At the top, she held out her hand to his waiting one. “Thanks for coming, Noah. I didn’t think anyone would be able to get through in that storm.”

Her fingers tingled as they remained connected with his. Without his sunglasses on, Ruth noticed his blue irises deepened to the color of the clearing sky before they darkened like the receding monsoon clouds.

Her need to soothe away his anguish intensified, but somehow she sensed that Noah wouldn’t appreciate her attempt.

KIM WATTERS

At twelve years old, Kim fell in love with romance after she borrowed Harlequin Romance from her older sister’s bookshelf. An avid reader, she was soon hooked on the happily-ever-after endings. For years she dreamt of writing her own romance novel, but after she graduated from college with a bachelor of science degree in business administration, she moved to Chicago to pursue another dream of working as an actress and model. After six years of hustle and bustle, she left the city for the wide-open spaces of Arizona, bought a home computer and began to write.

Kim calls a small town north of Phoenix home, where she lives with her own hero husband, two wonderful children, two energetic dogs and two high-strung hamsters.

On Wings of Love
Kim Watters

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In his heart a man plans his course,

but the Lord determines his steps.

—Proverbs 16:9

Acknowledgments

For my sister-in-law Susan Clancy.

Big kudos to my critique partners Carol Webb, Linda Andrews and Kerrie Droban. I couldn’t have done it without you wonderful ladies. Thank you.

To my last-minute readers, Karin Roepel and Donna Delgrosso, thanks for the extra sets of eyes.

Thanks to my editor Emily Rodmell who believed in me and my story and made it the best it could be.

And special thanks to the following individuals for their generous assistance:

Tracey Knotts, RN, CPTC

Charity Dycus Hagemeier, RN, BSN, CPTC

Paul (da pilot) Dykhuis

Tim Hermesdorf with Aerocare

Any inaccuracies contained within are the sole responsibility of the author.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.

—Proverbs 16:9

Ruth Fontaine dodged another puddle as she scurried toward the small group of people waiting to board the outgoing flight at the Scottsdale airport. Her gaze settled on the unfamiliar airplane parked on the tarmac. She skidded to a halt, dreading the impending flight more than usual. Getting acclimated to new pilots and planes was never easy for her. This plane had to be from the new charter airline contracted by AeroFlight, the company that supplied the Arizona Organ Donor Network with transportation to and from hospitals to retrieve organs.

“Everyone here?” Out of breath, Ruth surveyed her teammates. Besides herself, Dr. Cavanaugh, Nancy Tillman, the first assistant, and two med students were going on the fly out to retrieve the heart.

“Yes. We’re it,” the first assistant replied. Everyone else was oddly quiet.

In the background, Ruth heard the sound of raised voices coming from the interior of the plane. “Vultures. Every last one of them. I don’t want them on my plane.”

“Keep your voice down. The medical team should be here any minute.” An equally angry voice retorted.

“Just once. No more. And this conversation is far from over.”

Then silence.

“Okay then.” Raising her eyebrows, Ruth twisted her lips and shrugged her shoulders and looked at the assembled group. “So what are we waiting for? I don’t think we’ll be getting the red-carpet treatment on this flight. I hope you don’t mind.”

She grabbed the railing and stomped her foot on the bottom step to signal their arrival. The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and Ruth shivered. Aside from the mid-afternoon monsoon, no more rain had been forecast for the day unless the storm came from inside the plane. Not good morale for the team, but none of them seemed to be bothered with what had just transpired.

As she climbed the stairs, Ruth eyed the two men now standing by the entrance. Both wore matching dark blue polo shirts with their company logo embroidered on the pocket and khaki pants instead of the traditional pilot attire, but even without benefit of overhearing part of their conversation, there was no mistaking the tension between the pilots. She could cut it with one of Dr. Cavanaugh’s scalpels.

What the pilots chose to wear or their argument was not her problem as long as they got them to and from their destination safer than she’d managed to get her newly smudged bright red manicured toenails to the airport. At the top of the steps, she smiled and held out her hand to the more welcoming man on the right.

“Hi, I’m the donation coordinator, Ruth Fontaine.”

“Hi, Ruth. I’m your copilot, Bradford Westberry. Please call me Brad.”

“Pleased to meet you, Brad.”

“Likewise, Ruth.” The tall, stocky, blond man grinned at her, turning on the charm that would make some women swoon.

Ruth preferred the dark, brooding Heathcliff type, like the dark-haired man to her left who commanded her attention. Her gaze transferred to the other pilot, and her stomach turned over as if it hit some heavy turbulence.

His skin was lightly tanned and his face strong and angular. A five o’clock shadow defined his jawline, while a hint of silver touched the dark hair at his temples. Only a crooked nose and a small scar by his left ear marred what she would consider the perfect face.

“Noah Barton. Your pilot.” The man’s voice held a trace of disapproval as he tried to tilt the corners of his mouth up into a half smile.

Ruth shook his hand and noticed he didn’t extend the invitation to use his first name. She felt a slight tremor all the way to the bottom of her feet despite her sleep-deprived stupor from being up most of the last twenty-four hours. She noticed the pilot’s jaw slacken as he pulled the black Foster Grant sunglasses from his face. The sadness she’d heard in his tone also flared in his deep crystal-blue eyes as he stared down at her. Her heartbeat quickened, and some strange unidentified emotion passed between them. Ruth blinked. His bittersweet sorrow disappeared behind a wall of professional indifference.

Disappointment nipped at her nerves and startled her. Her reaction to his sudden lack of interest meant this tentative attraction affected her more than she cared to admit. Not good when she had a job to do. She had no time to get involved with anyone.

Still, the need to chase away whatever troubled him settled in her heart. Ruth leaned toward him and placed her free hand on top of their clasped ones. The action felt right. As if she were meant to comfort him. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

This strange meeting confirmed her growing suspicion that today was not going to be routine no matter what she did. Great. After Noah pulled his hand from hers, she slid the right one inside her lab coat pocket and squeezed the heart-shaped stress ball one of her coworkers had given her as a joke, which actually came in handy when she had to step on an airplane.

She couldn’t hold the pilots responsible for her bad day that started with spilling coffee on her new white shirt at a breakfast meeting and getting called to the airport in the middle of her mid-afternoon nail appointment after working all night. No. That was just old Murphy rearing his ugly head again at the most inopportune times.

She stepped aside, allowing the rest of the team to squeeze by and enter the Citation.

“Expecting anyone else?” Noah asked.

“No. This is it. I doubt there’d be much room for more.” She trailed her teammates. Ruth eyed the six-seat interior as she stepped inside. The plane was smaller than the one the other charter company flew, but the tan leather seats looked just as comfortable.

“Then I suggest you take a seat and fasten your seat belt if you want to get to San Diego by dinner.” A no-nonsense sounding Noah followed behind her.

Surprised at his nearness, Ruth spun around. But as she gazed up at him, she couldn’t help but think how different this pilot was from the other ones she’d used. None of them seemed to have any issues flying a medical team around. What was Noah’s problem?

Again, not her concern right now. Getting the donor heart from San Diego back here to Arizona was. Doing God’s will and saving as many lives as she could topped her list of things to accomplish today.

Noah placed his sunglasses back over his eyes as if blocking her from his view. Then he retrieved a headset and handed it to her. “Here. I’m sure you’re familiar with these? This is how I prefer to communicate.”

“Thank you. I am.” Ruth matched his professionalism and placed the unit around her neck. On the newer planes, the interior noise level resembled that of an airliner, so the things weren’t necessary like before, but since Noah would be wearing a headset of his own, this meant they could talk without her having to get up and tap him on the shoulder to get his attention.

While Brad secured the door, she eased her fatigued body into the padded seat across from the doctor so she could relay the information from San Diego Memorial. The seat felt as comfortable as it had looked. She sank into the softness. From this vantage point, though, she had a clear view of Noah’s partial profile and the frown hugging his rugged lips as he said something to Brad.

The tension grew again between the two men before the other pilot sat down.

Within seconds, Noah folded himself into his own seat and put his headset on. Ruth still couldn’t keep her gaze from him. His inexplicable sorrow called out to her on a gut level she didn’t quite understand, and the nurturing person inside her responded to it.

She sighed and tossed her curly, blond hair behind her shoulders. Even though Noah had been cordial, his under-lying attitude toward her and her team bothered her. People usually gravitated to her. They didn’t treat her like she carried a deadly strain of the flu.

Did he really think she was a vulture? Why?

Instead of focusing on him, she turned her attention to the job she’d held for over two years. The job she loved because it brought life and hope to very sick people.

“Okay, team. I’ll fill you in on the specifics when we’re airborne.” Ruth reached for one of the biohazard bags she’d packed and handed it back one row to Nancy. “Here. In case we hit some turbulence.”

The pale-faced first assistant grabbed it and nodded.

Unfamiliar with the two med students, Ruth held up another bag. “Anyone else get airsick?”

“We’re fine, Ms. Fontaine,” one of them piped up.

After Ruth tucked the bag into the seat’s pocket, she settled the headset over her ears. Her fingers played with the stress ball as she watched another commuter plane taxi by the window. She loved her job but hated the flying that came with it. Would there ever come a day when she wouldn’t be afraid?

A cold, wet nose and a high-pitched bark jolted her from the scenery. A small white, tan and gray dog, a Yorkshire terrier from the looks of it, nudged his snout underneath her palm.

“Oh. Hello, buddy. Where’d you come from?” She smiled at the impish, almost intelligent-looking face.

“That’s Houston. He’s one of my copilots. He likes to hide until we’re in the air. Houston come.” Noah’s voice resonated through the headset. He snapped his fingers.

The dog’s tail thumped against the carpeted floor. His tongue lopped out on one side as he stared up at her with inquisitive eyes. He licked her hand and whined.

“Come here, boy.” A growl accompanied the snapping fingers this time.

She noticed the dog listened probably as well as Noah did.

A giggle erupted from behind her tired lips, and she let her fingers trail through the dog’s fur. “Houston, huh? I think you’re kind of cute. A dog as a copilot. That’s unique. Wanna have a seat?” She patted her lap. It only took a split second for the dog to decide her cushioning was probably more comfortable than the seating arrangements behind the pilot’s seat.

Noah’s last look before he turned around to face the front curled around her heart. Somehow she suspected Houston was more than just another copilot.

“Suit yourself, dog.” With the precision of an accomplished pilot, Noah maneuvered them onto the runway.

Cradling her hands together, Ruth bowed her head, closed her eyes and prayed for the safety of everyone on the plane. Then she prayed for the family of the donor and the recipient, asking the Lord to heal all their hurts and wounds and wrap them in his infinite love. Noah, too.

Once finished, and without disturbing her new lap mate, Ruth reached into her coat pocket and grabbed a piece of gum to chew to relieve the pressure on her eardrums when they took off and ascended into the evening sky. The dog watched her every move and sniffed at her hand.

“Sorry, Houston. No gum for you.”

The anticipated surge of adrenaline and fear when the plane rolled forward chased away her fatigue. Matching an organ to a recipient and saving a life always had that affect on her. Tomorrow she’d pay the price, but it was well worth the physical strain to bring hope to another family.

“Houston. Quit begging and come here.”

The dog whined again and wedged his nose underneath her arm. His short muscular body wriggled into a more comfortable position.

Ruth laughed and placed the headset on. “For a dog that flies for a living, you certainly are a coward.” Like me.

“He’s got you fooled. He’s a sucker for blondes.” Noah’s voice crackled in her ears.

So Houston likes blondes. What about you Noah? Somehow that last caramel-flavored coffee drink touched off her sarcastic side instead of giving her the much needed energy boost. Ruth tore her gaze from Noah’s broad shoulders and looked out the window.

The dusty desert did little to contrast with the buildings in the distance. An occasional palm tree dotted her vision as the world blurred. The bumpy ride on the runway smoothed out like a clean piece of glass.

A haze painted the blue sky as the plane ascended into the thermals. Instinctively, she clasped the stress ball again. Even with all her flight hours, she still had an insane fear of flying. Today’s flight was made worse without their usual pilots behind the controls. But Noah had to be as capable or AeroFlight wouldn’t have contracted with his company. This was routine.

She ignored the chattering of the med students sitting behind her. Dr. Cavanaugh flipped through the latest medical journal while Nancy filed her nails. Ruth looked out the window again. Rush hour traffic snaked along the 101 heading east. Unless she had another call, she’d be back in the valley by nine and asleep by ten.

A yawn escaped. Her body fought the effects from last night’s coordination along with a full day of meetings and appointments. Now wasn’t the time to relax. She had calls to make, an itinerary to keep on top of and a staff to direct. She could chill out later.

“Okay, Houston. Time to work.” Her fingers caressed the shaggy fur before she set the dog on the aircraft floor.

A sleep-deprived ache registered behind her right eye. Not even pressure from her thumb deadened the pain. Now that they were airborne and she couldn’t cause any problems with communication between the pilot and the control center, Ruth placed the headset around her neck, grabbed the Flight Fone and then dialed the coordinator’s number in San Diego.

Noah sank back against the pilot’s seat as he leveled off to cruising altitude. His fingers strangled the yoke. He’d love to do the same to Brad’s neck. He would deal with him later, out of earshot of his passengers. He wondered how much they’d overheard before they’d made their presence known.

Either way, his partner had no right to sign a contract without informing Noah of what would be required. Brad should have known better than to solicit a company like AeroFlight, whose sole mission was to provide medical transportation, including the retrieval of organs.

Human organs. From a donor. From another casualty of the medical profession. Bile rose in his throat. Maybe he should ask Ruth for one of those biohazard bags she was so fond of.

With the exception of his family and Brad, few in his current life knew of his past. But then again, Noah had come to terms with what happened. He’d moved forward with his life.

Or had he?

The moment he’d seen the curvy blonde gracing the stairs of his aircraft, his stomach took a nosedive and landed near the soles of his feet. He hadn’t recovered yet. Against his better judgment, his gaze froze on the reflection of the woman in the tiny mirror he’d discretely mounted up front. Curly hair tied back in a red ribbon revealed a soft, oval face. Her deep green eyes bracketed by an unknown sorrow intrigued him, or maybe it was the delicate slope of her neck and the fullness of her lips.

Wholesome and innocent. For someone else. Not him.

The woman sitting in the first row wasn’t Michelle. His wife had died three years ago and taken his heart with her, but Noah saw the same vulnerability in Ruth that brought out a protective streak he fought to control.

A tightness rivaling a wound rubber band tensed his shoulder and neck muscles. He concentrated on forcing oxygen into his lungs. Passing out behind the controls topped the preflight imaginary checklist of things not to do. He didn’t need the FAA breathing down his neck.

It wasn’t as if they could afford to be choosy at what jobs became available. A fledgling business didn’t have the luxury of saying no—not when they had overhead and payroll and other people depending on them. Guilt threatened to consume the shred of sanity Noah grappled to hold on to.

He forced his thoughts back to flying the plane.

“Thanks for the update. We’ll be there shortly.” Ruth’s melodic voice drifted around him through the headset.

He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to listen to her words. But his fingers refused to isolate her from his communication.

“Okay, team. Here’s what we’ve got. A seven-year-old male.”

Noah’s grip tightened. Don’t listen.

“He was struck by a car while riding his bike.”

Sweat broke out underneath Noah’s arms and across his forehead. A chill seared his nerves, and beside him he sensed Brad shifting in the co-pilot’s seat.

It’s okay. I’m over it.

“Medium build, type O blood.”

Jeremy…

Maybe I’m not over it.

Disgust wrapped around all the other emotions struggling to surface. How could the woman sitting behind him be so detached to the situation? That boy lying in a hospital bed was a person, not a turkey to carve up and distribute to the neediest person.

His first thoughts had been right. Vultures. Every one of them. Worse than vultures. They were lower than the scum he’d washed off his shoes each summer night on his granddad’s farm.

A disembodied voice from air traffic control crackled in his ears. His attention focused on the preparations needed to land the plane safely even though he’d done it a thousand times before.

“ETA is twenty minutes, people. Please make sure your seat belts are fastened,” Noah announced, managing to keep all emotion inside him.

“Thanks, Noah.” Ruth’s voice surrounded him again, lulling him into a false sense of peace.

As he heard Ruth update the hospital, Noah tilted the nose of the plane down, starting their descent into San Diego. He eased back into his chair and concentrated on relaxing.

He needed a vacation away from a past that wouldn’t change no matter how many different scenarios played out in his mind.

Once the plane stopped on the tarmac by the waiting ambulance, Noah unclasped his seat belt and looked at the woman in the seat directly behind him. He couldn’t help himself.

She represented everything he hated about the medical community. Yet something about her played on his misguided sense of chivalry. Was it a vulnerability he sensed under her professionalism? Or the fear of flying she so gallantly tried to cover?

He watched her rise from her seat. The gold cross suspended from a thin chain around her neck winked at him. The irony that she wore a cross around her neck mocked him. She had the audacity to worship the God he’d turned his back on years ago. Noah didn’t have time for all that religious mumbo jumbo, anyway. It meant nothing. But to her, it obviously meant something.

“Here’s the dinner list. We should be back in just over an hour.” Ruth said softly, her feminine voice cocooning Noah into a false sense of comfort. He shook his head to dispel the feeling. It was part of his job to provide her crew with food for the ride home. He noticed her hand tremble when she handed him the paper. Their fingers never touched; yet he could almost feel her warmth.

“Okay.” Noah willed the underlying current running between them to disappear.

“Mr. Barton? Are you all right?” Ruth’s eyebrows drew together again, accentuating the tiny crease between them. Her deep green eyes softened as she gazed at him.

“Fine. And call me Noah,” Noah responded, but he was anything but fine.

“We need to get going then, Noah. We’ll see you later.” Her charm bracelet jangled when she placed her hand on his arm. Her touch magnified just how alone he’d been these last few years. He stared in her eyes. For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. Her mouth opened as if to say something else. She clamped her lips shut and tilted her head a fraction before a smile emerged. As she stepped away, her light, distracting scent disappeared with her. “Bye.”

Noah fisted his hands to keep from reaching out to her as he strode to the entrance of the aircraft and watched Ruth descend the stairs.

“If she interests you that much, why don’t you ask her out?” Brad joined him.

“I’m not interested.” Noah breathed in a lungful of ocean air laced with the distinct scent of jet fuel.

“Right. Then why do you keep staring at her?”

Okay, so maybe he was a little interested, and it scared him. He hadn’t thought of another woman since his wife died, and he didn’t plan on starting to even though this one caused a tiny blip on his radar screen. Noah wouldn’t risk his heart and put himself through the pain and agony of falling in love again and losing her like he’d lost Michelle.

Brad spoke quietly again. “You have to admit she’s appealing in a girl-next-door way.”

“Not my type.” Noah’s gaze betrayed his words as it lingered on the blonde coordinator again. Now he knew how the moths that fluttered around his back porch light felt.

“Then what is?” Brad asked.

“I don’t know. Not someone like her.” Noah ground out. He forced his fingers to uncurl. Even if the only thing that remained from his fighting days was a crooked nose and a few tiny scars, Noah knew better than to tangle with the taller, heavier and younger Brad again. Still his gaze lingered on the woman jumping inside the white and blue ambulance behind the rest of her team. Her hesitant wave before her blond head and white lab coat disappeared inside sucker punched his gut. Anger wrestled with disgust.

The lights flashed against the metal of the hangar to his right. He couldn’t shake the image of a big black bird hovering over the emergency vehicle as the sirens echoed in his ears. He continued to watch until it passed through the gate and out onto the street running parallel to the small airport.

“Let me have the dinner list. I’ll go pick it up.” Brad grabbed the slip of paper Ruth had given him and took off to find the flight-based operation’s courtesy car.

Noah’s fingers gripped the strap of Houston’s leash when he and the dog descended to the tarmac. A walk in the strip of grass would do both of them good after being cooped up in the plane. It might also release the tension tightening his neck and shoulder muscles.

“Come on, boy, we’ve got some time to kill.” He frowned at his choice of words. “Make that some time to waste.”

Not really. As if he hadn’t learned that every second was precious and not to be frittered away. All those years flying commercial aircraft had eaten away the hours he could have been spending with his family. Now he had the time, but his family existed only in photographs.

His shoes crushed the grass beneath his sneakers as Houston did his business. Why did his partner agree to this contract? Maybe because Brad had recognized what Noah hadn’t. He hadn’t come to terms with the death of his wife and son.

Too bad. Noah would face his nightmares by himself, not be forced into it by someone who didn’t understand. Tomorrow he’d flip the pilot schedules so he wouldn’t be called out to do any more organ recovery fly-outs.

Once the distant siren melted into the hum of early evening traffic, Noah relaxed.

Slightly. They still had to get the team and whatever piece of human anatomy they’d removed back to Phoenix. But for now, it was him and his dog. Noah knelt down and scratched the dog his son had picked out behind his ears. The only thing he had left from his happier days. The days when he was half of a whole. Now he wandered around as one of those left behind.

Houston’s body wriggled in delight while the dog licked Noah’s hand. The adjustment hadn’t been easy for him, either, and every once in a while before they’d moved from the house, Noah caught Houston staring into Jeremy’s empty room.

Waiting for a boy who would never come home.

He picked up the dog and held his body close to his chest. The dog’s heat permeated the thin cotton of his shirt. The nightmares rose to the surface, clawing their way through layers of protective coating meant to shelter his heart. Noah buried his face into the dog’s fur. When would the pain go away? When would he feel normal again?

Enough.

He opened his eyes as the almost full moon peeked over the horizon. A light breeze kicked up some of the litter by the chain link fence. With the onset of dusk, he retreated back inside his airplane. Then he settled back in the seat Ruth had occupied because it gave him quicker access to the front.

Her warmth and scent lingered, creating an unwanted longing for female conversation he’d thought was buried behind three years of bitter emotions. He closed off the tap feeding the thoughts and forced them back to the dry recesses of his brain.

With over an hour before Brad, Ruth and the medical team came back, he decided to rest.

As best he could under the circumstances. Noah closed his eyes and almost immediately fell into that bottomless nightmare that had become a part of him.

“Just sign here, Mr. Barton.” A jumble of words wavered before his eyes.

“No!”

“There is nothing else we can do, sir. Your son is brain-dead. But there is something you can.” The bright red lipstick worn by the garish woman dressed in hospital garb reminded him of an old Japanese movie. The one dubbed over in English where the lips moved independently of the words.

“You want to carve up my son and dole him out like pineapple slices,” Noah spat back. Guilt over not being able to do enough to save his son coursed through him like a jolt of electricity.

“Sign the paper, Noah. It’s what Michelle would have wanted.” His sister spoke softly and rubbed his back. “You know it’s the right thing to do.”

The clipboard dangled in front of his vision. The line marked with an X tormented him but not as much as the shame. He’d failed his son. A hand he recognized as his own grabbed the pen and scribbled his name.

“Thank you, Mr. Barton. This will save someone’s life.”

But what about my life?

Noah jolted awake to find Houston licking the tears from his face.

Chapter Two

“Are you okay, Ruth?” Nancy asked as she strapped herself into the seat in the rear of the ambulance to ride back to the waiting airplane.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

Exhaustion seeped into her pores again. Child donors were always the hardest. And not very common, which was why so many sick children died while waiting for organs. A fact she tried to change with each donation she coordinated, but sometimes she felt like a hamster trapped inside one of those wheels getting nowhere fast. There weren’t enough organs to go around.

She stared out the tiny window in the back over Nancy’s shoulder. No need to let the staff know this particular donation had affected her. She wouldn’t fall apart in front of the team that depended on her to be the calm one. The reliable one. Boy, did she have them fooled.

But that wasn’t what made her unusually quiet. Her silence stemmed from the glimpse she’d caught of the donor’s parents’ faces as she passed them in the hallway on the way to surgery. A look her own parents had once worn when they realized one of their children was dead. Grief curled around Ruth’s heart and opened the door for memories to flood in, carrying debris and fallout from an earlier time.

She’d hoped and prayed for a miracle for her sister that never came. Sometimes she didn’t understand God’s ways. But she never questioned His intentions, which was why she followed His calling and dedicated her life to making sure every possible donation was a success.

Digging into her purse, she grabbed two pain relievers and plopped them into her mouth with hopes that they would deaden the pain emerging behind her eye again. The heart Dr. Cavanaugh carried in the cooler was two decades too late to help her twin, but another child would have a second chance at life.

“How about you? How are you holding up?” Ruth asked Nancy. The fatigue lines bracketing the first assistant’s mouth mirrored her own. The surgery had gone well once they’d finally had their chance to operate.

“Fine, though things could have gone a little quicker.”

“That kidney team sure took their sweet time,” one of the med students announced. “I didn’t think they’d ever get finished. Why did it take so long?”

With six years’ experience as an O.R. nurse before becoming a coordinator, Ruth had been involved in hundreds of operations—many successful, others not. Since the heart was the last organ recovered, her team had to wait almost an hour and a half before they could operate.

Things had gotten tricky during the surgery, too, but Dr. Cavanaugh pulled it off. Ruth’s team had not lost an organ yet.

“Sometimes things don’t quite go as planned. I’m not familiar with that surgeon, but from his appearance, I’d say he doesn’t quite have the experience Dr. Cavanaugh has.”

“He sure was good-looking though.” The other med student piped in. “Too bad that team was from L.A. and not Phoenix.”

Ruth leaned against the padded bench and closed her eyes to the inane conversation swirling around her. She put pressure on her eyelid in hopes of alleviating the pain made worse when she realized she still had to get inside a plane and fly back to Phoenix. Instead of finding relief, she saw a sad Noah Barton staring back at her.

“Ready to fly back, Ruth?” Noah’s question sounded more like a sigh once she’d picked up her food from the cardboard box next to the door.

“Yes.” Ruth had a feeling this flight wasn’t going to be one of the more enjoyable ones with a lively conversation. By the looks of the fatigue written on the faces of her team and the tension that still lingered in the air between the two pilots, she predicted it would be totally silent.

Ruth took the same seat she’d sat in on the flight out. Funny how it wasn’t as comfortable as before, or maybe she attributed the feeling to the uneasy atmosphere inside. Or more specifically, the heart inside the cooler that seemed to make the air surrounding Noah even chillier. The atmosphere had definitely degraded since their arrival back from the hospital.

As Noah secured the door, her gaze roamed over his profile. She wondered about his slightly crooked nose. A fight? Or some daredevil childhood stunt? Not that it mattered. She wasn’t interested. Her hours were consumed with work or volunteering in the children’s wing at the hospital. She didn’t have time for romance. Not when there was another life to save or another soul in need of spiritual guidance, though Noah looked like he could use a little advice.

Did he even believe in God?

What was it about the pilot that yanked at her emotions? What about him attracted her? Was it the suppressed need that poured from him like rain off a roof? Or the brokenness he unsuccessfully tried to cover? Would he even welcome her attempt to help him?

Doubtful. Ruth’s fingers curled around her carton of fried rice. Enough about Noah. She still had a job to do. She just needed to concentrate. “Okay, team. Everyone set? Nancy, do you have your airsick bag?”

“Got it.”

“Anyone else need anything?”

No response. Great. With nothing else to think about until they were airborne, her attention drifted back to the pilot.

She watched Noah’s long, lean fingers—sprinkled with a light dusting of dark hair—cradle his headset before he put it on.

She wondered what Noah’s hand would feel like in hers. What would it be like to have someone to talk about her day with? The triumphs. The tragedies. The little things that happened that she couldn’t wait to share?

Ruth shut her eyes as Noah taxied onto the runway. She hadn’t had these thoughts about another man since David. But her ex-boyfriend had taken her heart and squashed it like some unsuspecting bug on the sidewalk more than two years ago. There was no way she’d put herself through that again no matter what.

So why was she suddenly having thoughts of relationships? Of being half of a couple? Of being normal? Her job was her life. The kids where she volunteered needed her. Especially the ones waiting for transplants. But somehow she suspected that Noah needed her as well but would never ask.

She squeezed her stress ball as the plane accelerated, whispered a quick prayer for everyone’s safety and prepared for takeoff.

Once they were at cruising altitude, Ruth folded the top of her nearly full take-out carton together. Her hunger had disappeared somewhere between Noah’s sad, yet bitter, expression and their not so smooth takeoff. In fact, her stomach was probably still hovering somewhere over San Diego County.

“Not hungry? It’s what you ordered.” Noah’s voice whispered through her headset.

Ruth raised her head in time to see disappointment dart through his blue eyes before his gaze slid to Brad. She didn’t miss the flicker of annoyance cross Noah’s features before he schooled it behind that mask of indifference again.

“The food’s fine. I’m tired, that’s all.” Ruth sighed. Food was not the subject she wanted to talk about right now, but since the copilot and any of the other passengers could hear their conversation, she remained silent.

Noah turned his attention back to the windscreen. “Take a catnap then.”

Underneath the pilot’s sparse words, Ruth continued to sense an ache, a loneliness that seemed to consume him from the inside out. She’d picked up on it during their flight out and had grown only more acutely aware of it.

Noah wasn’t the only one affected by some unknown force. At the bottom of her peripheral vision, she saw Houston lift his head from his paws as his tail slowly thumped on the carpeting. Her heart went out to both of them.

Shifting her gaze from Houston, Ruth looked out the tiny window. Suspended above the horizon, the almost full moon glowed, bathing the interior of the plane in a surreal splash of white. Too bad her emotions couldn’t absorb the peaceful feeling as she thought of Noah’s words.

“I’m better off staying awake until I can actually sleep for more than twenty minutes.” Ruth’s fingers tightened around the container of food.

The seams of the white box threatened to collapse under the pressure, so she forced herself to relax. No need to spill tomorrow’s lunch on the only lab coat not in the overflowing pile of dirty clothes in her hamper. As soon as she placed the container by her feet, Ruth pulled out her latest lame attempt at knitting a scarf. Keeping her fingers and mind occupied during flight usually helped, especially on the flights home when most of her work was done.

“Suit yourself.”

At his words, she closed her eyes again, but Noah’s strong, immobile and anguished face stared back at her. If only she could figure why their presence inside the aircraft caused such tension, then maybe she could bring a smile back to his lips.

Nice move, Barton.

Noah watched Ruth in the tiny mirror again. She sat in the same seat as earlier—the seat directly in front of the older woman, a Nancy something. The one who got airsick. So far so good. He’d been lucky, and up until now, no one had gotten airsick yet on one of his flights. Hopefully the woman wouldn’t break his record.

His attention drifted to the seat across the aisle from Ruth where the doctor sat. More specifically, the cooler by the man’s black shoes. Maybe Noah would be the first to christen his own plane. What disembodied piece of human anatomy lay packed on ice inside?

“It’s a heart.” Ruth whispered through the headset as if she’d read his mind. “What else would you like to know?”

“Nothing.” Noah refused to vocalize the words he wanted to shout in her direction. Why do you do what you do? Why can’t you leave people alone? But he’d already said enough.

The less he knew about his passengers, the better off he’d be. He didn’t want to know their business, where they’d gone to college or why they’d chosen to wear a certain sweater. Let Brad or the company’s other pilot Seth be known as the thoughtful, attentive pilots. Emotions got people into trouble. Emotions made people care.

Noah’s fingers tightened around the yoke until the whites of his knuckles gleamed. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t care. He would never fall in love again and experience the pain of having his heart ripped out of him. So why did his mouth go dry when he inhaled the hint of citrus and vanilla when Ruth was around?

“How soon will we be there?” Ruth’s voice intruded on his thoughts, enfolding him in her warmth again. A warmth he didn’t want to feel.

“About nine-thirty,” Noah growled. He couldn’t help it. Ruth Fontaine brought out the kind of behavior best left in the boxing ring of his youth. He’d been kidding himself to think he’d been over the deaths of Michelle and Jeremy. The vultures sitting behind him served as a constant reminder of his experience in the hospital. Different people with the same intention. He squeezed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to keep the nightmares from taking control during his waking hours.

“Thanks.” Her voice caused a spot of light but not enough to make him change his mind about her.

He still believed the doctors hadn’t done enough to save Jeremy because they wanted his organs. Noah would never forgive them for that.

After he heard Ruth update the hospital in Phoenix about their pending arrival, he glanced back again and noticed the knitting project and a ball of yarn she’d pulled out earlier rested in her lap but that the long needles in her hands remained motionless. Houston, his dog, curled up in the aisle by Ruth’s feet.

Traitor.

As if she sensed Noah’s gaze, her head tilted up. Her green eyes widened over the dark circles underneath them. “Did you need something?”

“No. Make sure your seat belts are fastened, folks. We’ll be there shortly.” After twisting around to face the front of the plane again his fingers tightened on the yoke. He needed something, all right. But Ruth Fontaine wasn’t the answer. He wanted the pain to go away. He wanted the clock to spin back three years so he could relive that last day with Jeremy and Michelle and keep them from riding their bikes to the grocery store.

He wanted his old life back.

But most of all, he wanted to know why the God he’d loved with all his heart had forsaken him and left him to wander alone and troubled.

Relief filled Ruth when the wheels of the plane touched the tarmac. After placing her knitting in her duffel bag, she bowed her head and clutched her hands together, her lips forming the prayer she always whispered once they were on the ground. Thank you, Lord, for our safe return. Please guide the surgeon’s hand in placing the organ You made available to us and grant the recipient a speedy recovery. Your will be done. Amen.

Her job was done for tonight. Once the ambulance carried the heart and her teammates away, Ruth hitched her duffel bag on her shoulder and turned to face the pilots. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you around.”

“My pleasure. Good night,” Brad responded and waved.

Noah cracked a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Would you like me to walk you to your car?”

“No, thanks. I’ll be fine,” Ruth said, and before she had a chance to change her mind, Noah turned around and started writing in some type of log.

Fatigue followed her down the steps, across the tarmac and into the dimly lit parking lot where she spied her white Accord parked on the far end. Something didn’t look right. Unease scraped her spine and her body protested the pace. She should have taken Noah up on his offer to escort her to her car even if she’d had to wait a few minutes for him to finish his work. She quickly disabled the alarm, unlocked and opened the door and then slipped inside.

She hadn’t driven more than a few yards when the thumping noise started and the steering wheel tugged beneath her hands. Now she knew why her car had looked odd. “Great. Just great. Not now, God. Please. Not now.”

Her grip tightened. Since she could never fall asleep right away after a donation, a cup of tea, a bath and some Ben & Jerry’s were on the agenda for the rest of her evening, not a flat tire.

She pulled the car into the empty space beside a white truck, put it in park and stepped out. Walking around her car, she spied the problem. The right rear tire was flat. She kicked it and winced. Ouch. Now her toe throbbed. Next time she’d do better to remember to wear steel-toed shoes when taking out her frustration on a hard, inanimate object.

With help from the overhead light in the parking lot, Ruth rummaged through her purse. She pulled out yesterday’s gas receipt, a pen and then a card from her wallet and dialed her emergency car service. The not-so-distant wail of an emergency vehicle competed with a landing plane as she explained her situation.

“An hour? You’ve got to be kidding me.” She rolled her eyes. Their promptness left a lot to be desired as the bored voice on the other end droned away with some excuse. “Yes, I understand. I know it’s late.”

Ruth disconnected.

She glanced at her watch. Ten o’clock. Being stranded in an almost deserted parking lot at night made her more than a bit uneasy. A million butterflies took flight in her stomach. Especially when she heard the echo of footsteps approaching. She might just have to attempt to change the tire herself in a minute.

Ruth positioned her car keys in her hand to use them as a weapon if needed. Right. As if a small piece of metal could do much damage. The thought of taking one of the self-defense classes at the YMCA she belonged to struck her as a good idea. Jumping back inside her car, she locked the doors and waited for whoever caused those footsteps to go away.

Suddenly, two familiar figures emerged from the darkness. Ruth’s grip on her keys relaxed as Noah’s agitated gait and Houston’s boundless energy brought them to the vehicle next to hers. She watched Noah pause, take a few steps around the back of her car and then disappear. Houston barked. A few seconds later, she saw the pilot stand up and approach the driver side door, his dog at his heels.

With a forced smile, Ruth flipped on the ignition key and rolled down her window. Too bad she hadn’t pulled into the spot next to Brad’s car, wherever that was. No. Her knight in tarnished armor had to be the man least happy to see her. “Flat tire.”

“I see.” His lips formed a straight line.

“Don’t worry. The situation’s under control.” Ruth’s words held more conviction than she actually felt. She’d never changed a tire in her life, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of doing it. She’d just never had the opportunity. She could probably have it fixed by the time the other help arrived.

“Please pop the trunk, and I’ll change it for you.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ve got it covered.”

Noah scraped a hand through his hair and stared at her.

“Look, Ruth. It’s late. Your car is disabled. I want to go home, but my conscience won’t allow me to leave you here stranded in the middle of the airport parking lot, which if you haven’t noticed is not exactly teeming with life right now.”

Ruth thought about her options. Wait in the dark for the tow truck to arrive, do it herself or let the handsome pilot wrapped in a blanket of sorrow put her spare on.

The pint of ice cream in her freezer called to her. Banana ice cream, fudge and walnuts just waiting to pass her lips and caress her taste buds. Fine. Ruth would watch Noah change it so she’d know how to do it next time.

“Oh, all right.” She popped the trunk and stepped out of the car. Noah had to be able to find the spare tire first. Her body protested the sudden movement as she strode to the rear and an incredulous looking Noah.

“What is all this?” Noah struggled with a large, blue duffel bag.

Out of habit, Ruth reached in and grabbed a business card from the side pocket and handed it to him before she hoisted the second bag out of the trunk. “CPR mannequins. I teach CPR classes on the side. I taught a class on Wednesday and forgot to take them out.”

Noah fumbled with the bag and dropped it, just missing his toes and his dog. He couldn’t have been more surprised than if the woman had said body parts. Death. Life. What a contradiction. An oxymoron. He stared at the blonde, trying to figure out how such two different people could reside in the same body. Only confusion racked his brain. Shaking his head cleared his mind of his thoughts, but the image of her wide, green eyes remained. So did her signature scent. So why did he tuck her card in his pocket instead of handing it back?

“The heat can’t be good for them.” Stepping away, Noah opened his tailgate to put the bags on in order to keep the bottoms clean. When he set his down, the contents hit the metal with a thud. No response. Ruth lugged the second one and set it down next to the first.

With the trunk now empty, he rolled back the carpet, exposing what he hoped was a useful spare and the tire iron. He handed her the L-shaped tool, then he tested the spare tire, glad to see it still held air.

“I have a blanket in the backseat of my truck. Could you get it out please?” Noah unscrewed the metal tab.

“Sure.”

He felt her gaze on his back as he wedged a rock behind her other rear tire to keep the car from moving while he jacked it up. A bead of sweat trailed down his cheek as he loosened the lug nuts in the dim light cast by the moon and overhead light fixture. After he unscrewed them, he placed them in the exact position from where he’d taken them from her tire. Probably a little fastidious on his part, but he firmly believed each nut belonged to each individual screw.

Just as man and woman were created for each other.

But his other half had died and nobody could take her place.

As Ruth called the car service to cancel her request, Noah worked off his anger on the tire and let it dissipate in the stifling silence around them. He threw the useless piece of rubber into the well vacated by the spare, the loud thunk breaking the silence.

The sooner he changed her tire, the sooner he could slip back into the life of limbo he’d been living for the past three years and forget the memories the woman dredged up.

Now that they were alone, Ruth decided to speak up. She coordinated entire teams during the donation process, so she could handle Noah. Before she changed her mind, she tapped him on the shoulder as he put the spare tire on.

His unguarded expression of sadness and hurt when he turned to acknowledge her made her heart flip. She clenched her damp hand around the stress ball inside her pocket again to keep from reaching out to comfort him.

“Yes?” His gaze roved over her features before a tiny smile split his solemn expression.

Her mouth opened but no words tumbled out. She clamped it shut. Heat crept to her cheeks again, and from experience, she knew they were as red as the blouse she wore underneath her lab coat. Her blushing had always proved to be a challenge—and the brunt of a lot of jokes from her colleagues. As if being a blonde and slightly overweight wasn’t enough. What she wouldn’t give for a whole garden full of weeds right now to take out her frustration.

“You wanted to say something?” Noah replaced the lug nuts and lowered the car back to the ground before he tightened them.

Ruth composed herself and straightened her shoulders. “I’m curious. Why do you think my team and I are vultures?”

“I was hoping you hadn’t heard that.” Noah stood and put her jack away before he dusted his hands.

“Well, I did. Care to clarify that comment?”

His unforgiving laughter skittered across her skin, raising goose bumps as he stood and threw the rock that he’d used to keep the car from rolling toward the chain link fence. “Not really. Let’s just say I don’t care for what you or your team of medical professionals do for a living.”

Ruth’s attention froze on Noah again, who now stood a few feet from her. The bleak expression carved into his face tugged at the thin string that seemed to connect them together at a subconscious level.

She shuddered as cold seeped into her pores. The overhead parking lot light cast his face into a series of shadows. She stepped back and bumped into the hard metal of the passenger side door. Noah’s words confirmed what she’d already suspected when she’d overheard their conversation. David had hated her job, too. At the time they were dating, Ruth had worked as an E.R. nurse and had just started to volunteer with the children. The irony that David worked in medical sales yet couldn’t handle not being the center of Ruth’s world was not lost on her.

After David’s defection and the death of another child she’d grown close to in the Children’s Center, she used the opportunity to become a coordinator and lessen the incompleteness she felt.

“My job brings hope and life to people who desperately need it.” As an agent of life, she stood on the Lord’s side to help others in need. Especially to those who’d drawn the short end of the stick when it came to functioning organs. Like her sister Rachel. Passion filled her voice. “Why can’t you see that?

“You and your God represent death.” His whisper sliced open her emotions and exposed them like raw, open wounds.

Ruth didn’t have to guess at his spirituality anymore. What had happened in his life to cause such a rift between Noah and God? She swallowed and fingered the child’s butterfly charm bracelet around her wrist. The smooth metal soothed her. The gift that child, Bonnie, had given her before she died before a suitable organ could be found was all the reminder she needed.

No semi-stranger, no matter what his affect on her, was going to tell her any differently. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Thanks for changing my tire. I’ll see you around.”

Chapter Three

“Ruth, wait.” Noah stopped her. The warmth of her skin under his palm shook his equilibrium. How long had it been since he’d touched a woman outside of a simple handshake?

Before the all-merciful God Noah used to worship took Michelle and Jeremy away from him; that’s when. Noah hadn’t understood why then, and he still didn’t understand why now. And when Noah had needed Him the most, God seemed to have taken a vacation and left him alone to deal with the emptiness and the loneliness.

Ruth placed her hand on top of his in comfort. That one touch, as if she understood him and the conflict warring inside him, undid the bands constraining his emotions. His heartbeat kicked into high gear the same time he noticed she wore no rings. Not that that meant anything. She could have a boyfriend.

“How old is this spare?” Noah continued moments later, thrusting his other thoughts back into the dark recesses of his mind. He glanced at his watch. Twenty after ten. Good thing he’d decided to tape his regular late night shows since seeing them at their regularly scheduled time wasn’t an option anymore.

“Five years. Probably as old as the car. Why?” Ruth drew her eyebrows together.

“It may not get you home, and you look ready to drop. How far away do you live?” Noah wrestled with his conscience and scraped a hand through his hair. If her spare blew, she’d be stranded along the road. Not an option. Even in the dim light filtering down from the streetlamp, he could see the fatigue shadowing the delicate skin under her eyes.

“About ten miles from here. How do you know I may not get home? I see people drive around with these all the time.”

“Experience. I’ll follow you.” Michelle had had a similar incidence occur early in their marriage. Plus Noah’s mother would have his hide if she found out he let Ruth drive home without making sure she made it safely.

“That’s really not necessary.”

“It is. I’ll be right behind you. Don’t take the freeway or drive over forty-five miles an hour. And here. My cell is listed on my card in case you have any other problems.”

Ruth bristled but accepted Noah’s business card. His attitude reminded her of her older brothers. Which, in the stillness of the late evening, might not be such a bad thing after all.

Weariness bit into her body as she drove home, making sure to follow Noah’s advice. If her spare blew, she’d have no transportation at all, and she didn’t want to rely on his services again. She couldn’t wait for a nice, long hot bath and that pint of ice cream to soothe her muscles. If only it would do something to soothe her mind. The pain written in Noah’s eyes followed her all the way from the parking lot like the real Noah did in his white truck. There, but not there.

On autopilot, she turned down the darkened street illuminated by overhead streetlights where her small three-bedroom house sat at the end of the cul-de-sac. The one-story slump block house in an older area of Scottsdale was too big for just herself, but something about it had fulfilled a need inside her.

Her headlights caught the neighbor’s black and white cat as it ran across the street and on to her front porch. Great. Why couldn’t the cat find another place to hide? Like under her other neighbor’s Camaro that he always left parked in front of her house.

Stifling a yawn, she pushed the garage door opener. As she waited, she stared at the tiny porch almost hidden by the overgrown fuchsia bougainvilleas planted on either side. Tomorrow she’d do a much-needed trim session on all her plants and trees and try to work off the feelings brought to the surface by Noah Barton.

By doing something productive, she could retain some semblance of order. Unlike Noah’s attitude, her sister’s death or all the sick children in the hospital waiting for her to bring them a transplant, Ruth had the power to control her yard, her laundry and even her emotions.

Somewhat. She’d forgotten to finish the laundry she’d started the other day. Before she pulled into her garage, she opened her window, mouthed a thank-you and waved goodbye. Noah’s headlights flashed across the exterior of her house as he slowly rounded the cul-de-sac before driving away.

Once inside the kitchen, she flipped on the lights, dropped her bag on the table, placed her uneaten dinner in the refrigerator and then scooped up the mail she’d overlooked yesterday. Then she headed for the phone. She’d been gone all day. Even a friendly sales call message would be welcome right about now.

The quiet didn’t usually bother her, but with the memories of Rachel and Bonnie hovering near the surface, the stillness brought home the fact that something was missing out of her life. Burying the need for a companion with work and volunteering wasn’t working as well as it had before. Her “one day” had changed to “today.” She wanted a partner. A husband. A child or two to cuddle. She wanted someone to hang out with after work. Someone to talk over her day with. Someone to commiserate with.

God was there for her and always would be, but suddenly she wanted more than a one-sided conversation. Ruth bowed her head in shame. So what if the Lord didn’t talk back to her in words. She felt His comfort and His love all the time. He would never forsake her or fail her like others around her had.

Feeling better, she flipped her hair into a knot at the base of her neck, wandered into her dark kitchen and flipped the light switch. She thought about Noah.

Another Mr. Wrong.

Ruth grasped the freezer door and pulled. Much to her disappointment, only some waffles, a bag of frozen peas and a few ice trays resided inside. She wrinkled her nose when she realized she’d eaten her last pint a few nights ago. After smacking the door shut with her hip, she filled the teakettle with water and turned on the gas burner.

Her thoughts wandered to Noah again as she keyed her way to her voice mail. Unlike David, at least Noah didn’t lie or misrepresent himself about his beliefs. Even until the end, Ruth had believed David had been as committed to the Lord as her until she found out differently.

Five minutes and seven messages later, Ruth kicked off her shoes and pulled her feet underneath her as she sat on her oversized toffee-colored couch. The cup of tea she’d brewed sat on the distressed hardwood coffee table. Her gaze scanned the contents of her mail—bills, what looked like an invitation and a few credit card solicitations.

Her hand stilled on the society magazine she kept forgetting to cancel. Out of habit, she glanced through pictures of the “Who’s Who?” of Phoenix. A strangled cry escaped her lips as she stared at the picture of David with his new bride.

Betrayal stabbed her. Ruth squeezed her eyes shut and blindly reached for her cordless phone. Obviously David had no problem committing to another woman; it was just Ruth he had a problem with.

Tilting her head back to rest against the cool leather, she dialed her older sister’s number and waited. Karen had always had a knack of knowing when one of her siblings needed to talk. Tonight was no exception as Ruth returned her sister’s call. A night owl herself, Ruth knew her sister wouldn’t mind the late hour talk.

“Hi, Ruth, you’re up late. Work? Or are you seeing someone new?” Her sister’s chipper voice carried through the line, reminding Ruth of an earlier time and place. Back in the family fold. Safe and secure without a care in the world.

“David’s married.” Ruth paced to the laundry room and pulled out the wrinkled whites.

The pause on the other end of the line fed into the insecurities that had resurfaced today. Ruth wrapped strands of hair around her forefinger as her teeth bit her bottom lip.

“Good riddance.” Karen seethed.

“What?” Ruth pulled the phone from her ear and let Karen rant. Her sister’s anger surprised her. Of all her siblings, Karen was the most even-tempered of the bunch.

“I never liked him. And how he treated you—”

Instead of shifting the dank smelling, damp clothes from the washer into the dryer, Ruth decided to rewash them as she tried to pacify her suddenly fiery sister. “Karen, stop. I’m sorry I upset you. Forget I mentioned it.”

Her sister ignored her words. “What’s his phone number again? I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.”

“That’s not necessary.” The gnawing in Ruth’s stomach intensified as she twisted the knob into position and pulled it out to start the cycle. Then she dragged the basket of whites she’d pulled from the dryer back to the living room.

She stared at the picture of her and her two brothers and two remaining sisters sitting on the fireplace mantel. Tall, dark and thin, Karen resembled their father more than their mother, who Ruth favored, with her fuller figure and blond hair.

As usual, Ruth was stuck in the middle. The same as her birth order. But that wasn’t the reason for her position in the picture. Her siblings crowded her to protect her as they hadn’t been able to protect Rachel. “I can fight my own battles now.”

Her sister protested. “But it’s something we’ve always done.”

Ruth’s fingers tightened on the phone. It only took a phone call to undo the progress she made over the years away from her family. “I know, and I appreciate it. But I’m not a baby anymore. And I’m not going to die like Rachel.”

The silence drained her further.

“Listen. Please don’t say anything to the family about David, okay? I’m over it. He has a right to start a new life just as I have.”

Her sister’s sudden lack of words freaked Ruth out, and if she’d had any energy left, she’d be pacing the room.

“Right. I love you and I just want you to know that I’ll always be there for you. No matter what. Call me anytime. Day or night.” Karen’s soft voice reached out through the telephone.

“Thanks, Karen.”

“Now to get back to my question. Were you working or are you seeing someone new?”

Ruth dropped back down on the sofa. “Work. “

“You work too hard. Check out that single’s group at the church you told me about. Live a little. Have some fun. The best thing for you to do is to start seeing someone else.”

“Work is my life. You know that, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll see what activities are scheduled for next month.” But she knew she was only saying those words to pacify her sister. Still, her voice hitched as an image of Noah Barton appeared in her mind’s eye. Heat crept to her cheeks at the thought of the pilot.

The man was all wrong for her. A wounded hero with tons of baggage like herself. Yet she couldn’t ignore his anguish and pain. Her nurturing side instinctively took over, and despite the fact the pilot didn’t like her career, Ruth found herself wanting to help him.

Her fingers grabbed the colorful striped pillow, and she clutched it to her chest. A stuffed piece of fabric was a far cry from holding another human being in her arms.

“Look, it’s late and I’m tired, Karen. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Bye.”

After hanging up the phone, Ruth plumped the pillow and set it back down on the sofa. Then she picked up her tea. She took a sip and stared at the haphazard stack of magazines under her coffee table. The pile of laundry waiting to be folded mocked her. The basket of yarn with two needles poking out screamed amateur over her lame attempt to knit a scarf for her niece. Her life and job had descended into chaos. Starting tomorrow Ruth would get everything organized and tidy, but right now she needed some sleep.

“Hi, Ruth. Glad to see you today.” Mrs. Olson, the elderly woman who usually volunteered every weekday afternoon until eight at the reception desk in the Children’s Center in the Agnes P. Kingfisher Memorial Hospital in central Scottsdale, pushed the visitor registration clipboard across the counter.

“Hi, Mrs. Olson, what are you doing here today? Where’s Margaret Ann? I thought she was due back this week?” Ruth signed her name and grabbed a visitor badge from the basket next to the vase filled with silk flowers.

Concern etched into the retired nurse’s numerous wrinkles. “She’s come down with a staph infection from her hip replacement surgery. Keep her in your prayers for a speedy recovery.”

Disquiet settled across Ruth before she shook it off. The other elderly volunteer was probably healthier than she was. Margaret Ann would be okay, but Ruth would put out a prayer request nonetheless. “I certainly will. So how’s my favorite patient doing?”

“Little Marissa’s been asking for you all day.” Mrs. Olson pulled her reading glasses from her nose and let them hang from the brightly beaded holder. Her faded blue eyes softened and filled with moisture. “Some days are better than others. Today is one of the good ones. I know she and the rest of the kids will be happy to see you.”

Ruth’s stomach relaxed as she pinned the badge to her blouse. Her gaze skimmed the scenic photos that lined the walls of the foyer and the potted plants stationed by the door. Today they brought a measure of comfort. Five-year-old Marissa was declining rapidly while waiting for a new heart. Each day she remained on Earth was a blessing to her parents, and the staff, and to the lives of the people Marissa touched. “That’s terrific. She wasn’t doing so well when I saw her on Wednesday.”

“Things have changed.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Olson. She’ll be my first stop then.” Ruth stepped away from the counter and headed toward the elevator that would take her to the fourth floor. The elevator bell dinged and the doors slid open. With a final wave and smile to the woman now talking on the phone, Ruth stepped into it.

A few minutes later, the soothing light blue colored walls greeted Ruth as she walked down the hallway toward the playroom where the head nurse had told her most of the kids were waiting—Marissa included. The heels of her sandals clicked an odd beat against the linoleum floor.

Outside room 401 she saw an empty wheelchair. Poking her head through the darkened threshold, she spied the carefully made bed and the unadorned walls and missing trophies and photo frames. A smile lit her lips. The doctors had finally released Johnny Trueblood.

Continuing down the hallway, she saw a towheaded child poke her head back inside the large room at the end of the hall, and soon the sound of giggles erupted the stillness. No chance of making a surprise entrance tonight.

Ruth breathed in the underlying smell of antiseptic and the silent urgency of the staff. They did their best along with the patient’s families to let the children lead as normal of a life as possible while in the hospital, but they only had so much time, which is where the network of volunteers was so essential. Not that Ruth minded one bit. She loved her time with the children whether it was reading books to the younger patients, playing games with the older ones or even helping with homework.

She stepped through the door of the room that took up the entire north side of the building and onto the dark, green carpeting meant to resemble grass that complemented the continuous park scene painted on the walls.

Ruth found herself engulfed in the arms of those children able to walk. Others sat in wheelchairs by the big windows, grins on their faces and love shining from their eyes. She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else today. Not when she had a roomful of children who needed her and fulfilled her. Her gaze strayed to the little girl wearing a bright pink bandanna over her patchy hair. “Hi, Marissa. I hear you’re feeling better today. I’m so glad.”

“Yep.” The olive-skinned girl gave Ruth one of her sunny smiles. “Did you find me a new heart yet?”

Ruth’s smile dimmed. She knew better than to raise false hopes in Marissa or the few others waiting for a transplant. Not that every child here was. Some had cancer; others were recovering from accidents and two had transferred from the burn unit, but those who were waiting or recovering were her favorites. She just wished she could do more to help them.

“Not yet, sweetie, but I’m still looking. It has to be perfect. Just like you.” Ruth tweaked the girl’s nose.

“Can I sit on your lap tonight then?”

“Sure thing. As long as you share blankie with me.”

“Hi, Ruth. Back again so soon?” Edina Murphy rocked her sleeping granddaughter in her arms.

“Yep. Nothing can keep me away from my little angels.” Ruth tousled Carlos Ramirez’s soft, dark brown hair as he held onto her leg.

“Go pick out your favorite stuffed animal and meet me by the reading chair, sweetie. Everyone else, too.” Ruth bent down and pried off Carlos’ arms from around her leg.

The woman tsked. “It’s Saturday night. You should be out having fun, meeting a special man and having kids of your own.”

“Now, I thought we’d discussed this before, Edina. I don’t have time for a special man in my life right now. I have my work and my kids here,” Ruth replied as she walked over to the big bookshelves that dominated the far wall next to the small computer area.

Her thoughts continued to drift back to Noah Barton as her fingers pulled a few children’s books from the small kids section.

“Well, you’re sure not going to meet him here, that’s for sure, unless I can convince my handsome neighbor to come visit, but his schedule is as crazy as yours. I don’t know what is with you kids today.”

“When the good Lord is willing, I’ll meet that special someone. But until then, I’ve got everything I need right here.” Ruth sank down into the big, comfortable mauve chair and kicked off her sandals. Then she patted her lap for Marissa to join her.

Once the bony little girl with her pink blanket, Carlos and the other kids settled, Ruth opened Marissa’s favorite book about a village girl and a beast and how love transformed them.

But it was just a fairy tale. Ruth didn’t fully buy into the “happily ever after.”

In the office early Monday afternoon, Noah tipped back on the back legs of his chair. He stared at Brad, with whom he shared the cramped room, sitting at the next desk over. “I’m taking myself off rotation for the AeroFlight calls.”

Noah tilted the bottle of soda he’d grabbed from the supply refrigerator to his lips and drank. Above him, muted fluorescent bulbs cast cool light across Brad’s features.

“You can’t.”

“Watch me.” Noah refused to go on another organ recovery mission. Let Brad or Seth take it. He didn’t need any more memories brought about by ferrying a bunch of medical personnel around. Especially one Ruth Fontaine, who had worked her way under his skin like a sliver.

Brad stared at him long and hard as he played with the pen in his fingers. “We need the AeroFlight contract and about five others to keep us in business. I can’t do it all myself. That’s not what we agreed to.”

“But I didn’t sign that contract. You did.”

Brad threw the pen across his desk. When he stood, his chair crashed into the off-white wall, the sound reverberating in Noah’s skull. “You’ve been the one nagging about business. I go out and get a decent contract and now you’re complaining.”

Houston jumped up from underneath Noah’s feet, skittered around the desk and cowered behind their office manager, Hannah Stevenson, who now stood in the doorway. He and Brad counted on her to run an efficient office, and she in turn counted on them to keep a roof over her and her young son’s head.

“Are you guys okay in here?” The pale, delicate-looking redhead asked.

“We’re fine. Just discussing a little business,” Brad responded. “How are you doing today? You look nice.”

Noah noticed his office manager blushed easily like another woman he’d recently met. A woman who had no reason to intrude on his thoughts today.

Hannah’s eyebrows skimmed her bangs as her lips twisted into a hesitant smile. “I’m fine, thank you. Okay then. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

Once Hannah retreated to the front room, Noah pinched the bridge of his nose to keep the nightmare at bay. “But why AeroFlight? Why did you have to contract with them?”

Brad walked over and clasped Noah’s arm. “It kills me to see you like this. You think you’re living, but you’re not. I’ve watched you suffer for three years. Please. Let Michelle and Jeremy rest. AeroFlight is a wonderful organization and provides a necessary service.”

Noah drew back. Raw anger threatened to crush the last piece of sanity he’d struggled to hold on to. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to forgive Brad. “You sound like Ruth.”

“Try and see the positive for once.” Brad continued.

“What positive? You’ve been my friend for fifteen years. You were my best man. You were there when Jeremy was born. You met me at the hospital when they brought Michelle and Jeremy in after the accident. You helped with the funeral arrangements.”

A tear slipped down Noah’s cheek.

His tight fisted hand pushed it away.

“What positive, Westberry? Answer me.”

“Your son’s organs saved other lives that day. Michelle’s could have, too, if she’d been an eligible donor. But you’ve been too wrapped up in the guilt and denial to see past that crooked nose on your face. Maybe I should break it again.” Brad drew back and flexed his fingers.

“Touch me and this partnership is over,” Noah growled. “The doctors I counted on to save Jeremy’s life created a donor so that someone like Ruth Fontaine could harvest his organs and offer them to the highest bidder.”

Brad shook his head, concern etched across his face. His harsh voice pushed through Noah’s thoughts. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. The doctors did everything they could. If you want to blame someone, blame the drunk who hit them. If you don’t take the call when it comes in from AeroFlight, we may as well dissolve the business and go our separate ways.”

Noah downed the remaining soda and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He watched his friend leave to go flirt with Hannah. Brad didn’t understand.

Sure, Michelle had been his cousin and Brad had introduced them, but his partner hadn’t had the close relationship that only a husband and wife could have.

Had.

Michelle was gone. Jeremy was gone.

Emptiness consumed him.

His fingers crushed the empty can. Burying himself in the business wasn’t working anymore. He’d been a fool to think it would work in the first place. Or maybe he’d been lucky it had lasted as long as it had.

Noah whistled for Houston so they could escape the four walls confining him. No matter what Brad said, he had no intention of flying Ruth or any other group of vultures around.

Chapter Four

Ruth watched the King Air touch down through bleary eyes as she stood by the window of the tiny shack located at an airstrip outside of Rio Salado City. At least the airplane brought a little lightness to the drab brown high desert surrounding the lone runway.

Fatigue wrapped around the muscle in her temple and yanked the pain winning out over the satisfaction of another successful coordination. Even her stomach was too tired to protest. How long would it take the pain relievers she’d taken with a sip of warm water to get rid of the migraine? Probably as soon as she got some sleep. And a decent meal. The sandwich from the hospital cafeteria left a lot to be desired, but at least her hunger had subsided.

Ruth disposed of the empty wrapper from the chocolate bar she’d bought for dessert from the vending machine into the garbage can as the aircraft approached. She didn’t recognize the prop plane and wondered which company had come to pick her up—or more specifically, who piloted it.

“Bye, Joe. Thanks for waiting with me.” She waved to the staff employee from the hospital that had stayed with in her the tiny building that protected them from the elements.

She slipped out of the metal door, her footsteps echoing off the concrete still wet from the monsoon that blew through an hour before. Thankfully, she hadn’t had to face the brunt of the storm outside while she waited for flights to resume so the pilot could land the plane.

After inhaling the fresh, damp smell, Ruth faltered about thirty yards from the aircraft. The staircase lowered from the plane, and a dog bounded down the steps.

“Houston.” Pushing aside her exhaustion and headache, Ruth squatted down and held her arms open. The tiny dog jumped up, batted her with a muddy paw and licked her face. So much for her nice, clean shirt. “Oh, boy, I’m so happy to see you. How’ve you been?”

As she scratched the dog behind the ears, her heart skipped a beat. That meant Noah had come for her. She hadn’t seen him since he’d changed her flat tire five days ago, and so much had happened in that time. Margaret Ann had taken a turn for the worse and succumbed to the infection Monday. Ruth was devastated at the loss. Then Tuesday the heart meant for Marissa had to go to another child because Marissa was too weak for an operation. Ruth wondered if the little girl would live to see her sixth birthday this weekend.

A tear crested her eyelash, but she shoved it away. God had a plan for everyone. Including Ruth. And Noah. At least Noah’s familiar face was better than another anonymous one, even if only one of the plane’s occupants was happy to see her. Scooping up the wiggly dog in one arm, she stood, hefted her duffel bag on her shoulder and stepped toward the plane and the man standing in the doorway who piloted it.

Sighing, Ruth grabbed the railing and pulled her body up the steps while her eyes skimmed over Noah’s khaki pants, past his muscular chest underneath the green polo shirt he wore today and grazed his firm lips. Without his sunglasses on, Ruth noticed his blue irises deepened to the color of the clearing sky before they darkened like the receding monsoon clouds. The cold, remote look etched across his features signaled his attitude toward her profession hadn’t changed much either.

Once Ruth stood next to him, Noah frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. He should have known Ruth would be the coordinator today. He didn’t like the effect she had on him. She made him want to feel again. The call had come in right after Brad had lost the coin toss and had taken off on a scheduled trip to fly some executives to San Jose with the other pilot, Seth.

Hannah had left for another doctor’s appointment, her second this month, which concerned him, but he didn’t want to pry into his office manager’s personal life, and Noah had been stupid enough to answer the phone instead of letting it go to the answering service. The only reason Noah was here was because he couldn’t afford not to be. Turning down any job would put a strain on his business no matter what it cost his emotions. He’d deal with any repercussions after he paid his bills.

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