“Thanks for bringing me here.
For…for being there.”

“It’s okay. Of course I would bring you. And as for staying…” Nick shrugged. He didn’t quite know what to think of his fierce desire to protect Beth that had less to do with Jim’s request than his own need to be at her side.

“It meant a lot,” Beth said quietly, her eyes holding his.

Nick felt an urge to touch her. To connect with her. His hand twitched at his side and as he lifted it the doors to the NICU swished open. Reality intruded into the moment in the form of Beth’s mother-in-law, Ellen.

Ellen glanced at Nick and he got the hint that she wanted to be alone with Beth for a moment.

“I’ll be waiting in the lobby,” he said to Ellen. Then he glanced at Beth. “Congratulations, Beth.”

But as he walked away, he wished he could stay.

He dismissed the thought. He wasn’t Beth’s husband and he had no right to be at her side.

In spite of his growing feelings toward her.

CAROLYNE AARSEN

and her husband, Richard, live on a small ranch in northern Alberta, where they have raised four children and numerous foster children and are still raising cattle. Carolyne crafts her stories in an office with a large west-facing window through which she can watch the changing seasons while struggling to make her words obey.

The Baby Promise
Carolyne Aarsen

I lift up my eyes to the hills—

where does my help come from?

My help comes from the LORD,

the Maker of heaven and earth.

—Psalms 121: 1–2

I’d like to dedicate this book to all our soldiers serving overseas both in the battlefield and in peace-keeping missions. We may never know the extent of your sacrifice but we hope that you understand our appreciation of your dedication and heroism.

Acknowledgments

I’d like to thank Nita Rudmik for all her help with the neonatal questions.

I’d also like to thank Janelle and Mark Schneider both for the sacrifices they have made respectively as a soldier and wife of a soldier and for the information they gave me about the troops in Afghanistan. I only used the tiniest part of all they gave me and any mistakes or misrepresentation is mine and mine alone.

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

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

He wasn’t supposed to be here, Nick Colter thought, his eyes looking over the log house nestled in a copse of pine trees, smoke curling out of the stone chimney.

The utter peace of the place eased away memories of dust, pain, brokenness and war, but behind that came the guilt.

“Can I help you?”

A melodic voice broke the quiet of the winter morning and Nick spun around, his hand reaching for the rifle he no longer carried.

He caught himself and flexed his tightening fingers, forcing himself to relax as he watched the petite woman walking toward him through the pine trees dusted with snow. These were the friendly mountains of Cochrane, Alberta, not the mountains of Afghanistan.

He wasn’t a soldier anymore and the woman with the curly blond hair pulled loosely back from a heart-shaped face, cheeks rosy from the cold, wasn’t an enemy.

“Sorry to startle you,” she said as she walked toward him, choosing her steps carefully on the snow-packed driveway. “I just saw the cab leave.”

“Yeah, I just got here.” Nick poked his thumb over his shoulder at the car that was spinning out of the driveway, struggling to gain traction on the snow. He dropped his duffel on the ground as he watched the young woman come closer to him. She wore a pale blue woolen jacket straining over a rounded belly and black pants tucked into leather boots. In spite of the cold, she wore nothing on her head and her bare hands clutched the handle of a large black briefcase.

Beth Carruthers. Jim’s widow. Looking even more beautiful than she did in the pictures his soldier buddy had shown him.

And pregnant with the child his friend had talked about so often and now would never see.

Nick walked toward her, pulling off his hat as he did. She stopped a few feet away from him, her expression guarded and cautious, her violet eyes narrowed.

“Hello, Beth. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Nick Colter. I was stationed with Jim in Afghanistan. He always told me I should come visit his family, and when Jim’s parents, Bob and Ellen, asked me to come…well…I said I would.”

As he spoke, sorrow blanketed her features and she took a faltering step away. Her small action sent a myriad of emotions coursing through him.

Grief, anger, sadness, but lying beneath all that, a deep well of guilt at being the one standing here instead of her beloved husband, Jim. He, who had little to live for, had survived and Jim, who had so much to live for, had not.

This is wrong, he wanted to tell her. And I know it is. I shouldn’t be here.

He shook his head and shifted his weight, wincing as the movement resurrected pain from an injury that had given him a one-way ticket back home.

Behind the pain came the thought that he needed to be back with his unit, doing the job he’d trained for and had done since he was eighteen.

But he had a medical discharge he couldn’t work around, and a promise to keep.

Beth wrapped one arm around herself as if trying to hold in her sorrow, her eyes flitting away from him. “I remember you now.” She spoke quietly, grief softening her voice. “I saw you at the funeral.”

Nick wanted to say something to ease her pain, but any words he might have were too small for the moment. So he stood in front of her, hat in hand, letting his silence say what his mouth couldn’t.

Sometimes words couldn’t say it all.

“What…what are you doing here?” she asked, still looking away from him.

He was here because as Jim lay dying in his arms, he pleaded with Nick to keep an eye on his wife, to watch over her and make sure she was okay. While Jim’s life seeped out of him into the desert sand, his eyes held Nick’s with an intensity that branded itself into Nick’s very soul as he pleaded with Nick to take care of his family.

But when Nick looked into Beth’s eyes, he wondered if this was the time to say all that.

“Mr. and Mrs. Carruthers asked me to come for a visit.” He decided to go with the safest reason for now. The visit was true. Bob and Ellen Carruthers had ex tended the invitation at Jim’s funeral when they had found out about Nick’s medical discharge from the army.

“That’s very considerate of you,” she said.

He slipped his hat back on his head, unable to keep his eyes off her, remembering too well Jim’s pictures of her.

In those pictures Beth’s blond, curly hair flowed free, her wide violet eyes looked as if they held some secret and her mouth barely hinted at a smile.

Though her features now held the same ethereal quality, they also held sorrow.

“Jim talked about you a lot,” he added, struggling with his own grief. “He really loved you.”

She took a step away from him, shaking her head and lifting her hand as if pushing him away. “I can’t talk about Jim.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. I’m sure this is a difficult time for you.”

She turned her head aside, hiding her sorrow. “Enjoy your visit with my in-laws,” she said. She moved past him and walked to a small car, got in and started it up.

Nick watched her sitting stock-still in the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she stared straight ahead, plumes of exhaust swirling around the car.

He wasn’t surprised at her reaction. She was still grieving. He was still grieving. It had been only eight weeks since his friend breathed his beloved wife’s name with his last breath.

Nick clenched his hands and tamped down the sorrow. He wouldn’t be any good to Beth or to Jim’s parents if he couldn’t control his own grief.

For a moment he cursed Jim again. Had Nick done what he always did—went his own way, did his own thing, kept himself from making friends as he usually did—he wouldn’t have had to deal with this sorrow.

But when Jim burst into their army tent with his big grin and boisterous personality, he also burst through the walls Nick had carefully built around his heart.

Now Jim was gone and Nick was alone again.

Nick slung his duffel over his shoulder, then limped over the packed trail toward the log house.

Toward Jim’s parents and their sorrow.

“And then Jim said to me, I get enough exercise just changing my mind.” Nick leaned back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest, his lips curved in a melancholy smile at the memory. “I tried not to laugh, but I still made him do his twenty push-ups.”

Dinner ended over twenty minutes ago, but neither Bob nor Ellen Carruthers were in any rush to leave the table. Beth saw them eagerly taking in every story that Nick, Jim’s army buddy, had to tell them, drinking in any mention of their beloved son. Throughout dinner their entire attention had been riveted on Nick.

Not that she blamed them. Nick’s bearing, his dark hair, piercing blue eyes and strong features created a presence, an air of command that made a person take notice.

She could see why Jim had attached himself to this man. Nick had about him an air of danger, something Jim had always been drawn to. He also seemed to have a quiet strength.

Something she could be drawn to.

She shook the thought off and turned her attention back to the pie she’d been pushing around her plate for the past ten minutes.

“Oh, that sounds just like him.” Bob slapped his hand on the table, rattling the plates and forks. “Can’t you just hear him saying that, Beth?”

Beth gave her father-in-law a careful smile, avoiding Nick’s direct gaze. “I certainly can.”

“Jim sure loved his practical jokes,” Ellen said quietly. “I’m not surprised that even in that place he found a way to laugh.”

Beth’s heart softened as she saw the sorrow course across Ellen’s features. Once again guilt reared its ugly head, mocking her. She wished she could grieve Jim’s death as deeply as her in-laws did. But she couldn’t.

The Jim she knew was not the Jim her in-laws often talked about and grieved for. Nor was it the Jim that Nick spoke so glowingly of.

The Jim she knew had come home a couple of times smelling of some other woman’s perfume. After pressing him, he had spilled out words of remorse over his infidelity. It was a mistake, he had said. It would never happen again.

And she had believed him. Twice.

The Jim she knew had come back to his parents’ ranch full of promises that being around his parents would remind him of who he was supposed to be.

They even went to church the few times Jim was on leave.

Because of the vows she had made, she let herself believe his promises of a fresh start. She wanted her marriage to work. Her pregnancy was a result of her naïveté.

But she also found out that “never again” had meant “only a few weeks.” Jim’s words, like her father’s, meant nothing.

“He often talked about his family.” Nick’s deep voice broke into her bitter memories and his gaze landed on her. “He especially talked about you, Beth, and the baby. He looked forward to coming home and seeing you again.”

Beth realized this was said for her benefit, and coming on the heels of her own thoughts, the comment was like a knife to her heart.

“He missed you a lot, Beth.”

Beth shot Nick a puzzled glance. Once again a slender wisp of hope wafted through her mind. The same hope that had accepted Jim’s apologies after his infidelities. The same hope that had taken him back both times.

The refrain of an old song spun through her mind. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Except there was no line for “fool me thrice.”

She had been such a silly fool.

Nick looked at her with expectancy, but she could only muster a tight smile and Nick, thankfully, turned his attention back to Ellen and Bob.

“He loved you all so much,” Nick continued. “I’m really thankful I had a chance to meet you.”

“And I’m thankful you took the time to come down here and stay with us,” Bob replied. “It means a lot to hear stories about Jim. It’s all we’ve got left.” Bob’s voice broke a little, and Beth felt a surge of sorrow for her father-in-law.

It didn’t matter that Jim had never been the husband to her they thought. He was their only son.

“Oh, my goodness, where’s my manners? Nick, would you like some more pie? Or coffee?” Ellen hastily brushed away her tears and got up from the table.

Nick held up his hands as if surrendering. “I couldn’t eat another bite. Jim told me your pie was the best I would ever eat, and now I know he wasn’t lying.”

Beth choked down another bite of that same pie, then took a drink of tepid tea to help get it down. She’d struggled all through the meal to eat enough to keep her in-laws from commenting on her appetite. But each mouthful had been an ordeal.

Her emotions toward her husband were a tangle of pain, anger and confusion, which she struggled to deal with in front of her in-laws. Each time she was with them it grew more exhausting to find a balance between her sorrow over Jim’s death and her relief.

Jim’s parents didn’t need to see the relief.

Though Beth lived only a few hundred feet away from her in-laws, she tried to maintain a boundary and often kept to herself.

But today they’d insisted she come to see Nick’s friend. So she’d reluctantly accepted the invitation, then sat through dinner listening to Nick’s stories and keeping her feelings in check.

She finished her pie, picked up her plate and stacked Bob’s plate on top.

But Nick reached across the table and put his hand on hers.

“I’ll help with the dishes.”

She could feel calluses on his warm palm. The hands of a soldier.

She jerked her hand back, the plates she held clattering onto the table.

He frowned, obviously puzzled at her reaction. “I’m sorry. I hate to see a pregnant woman working.”

“You don’t need to look,” she said with a touch of asperity she immediately regretted.

She blamed her shortness on the headache she’d been fighting ever since she came back from Shellie’s craft store after her doctor’s appointment. She’d been working up enough courage all week to talk to her boss about carrying her handmade cards in the store, but when she got to work, Shellie had already left to go to a craft show. So she’d chatted with Isla, the other part-time employee, tidied up the paper racks, reorganized the stamps and set up a new display in the window.

Then, when her few hours of work were over, she’d made the trip back to the ranch, her briefcase still brimming with homemade cards and her nervousness translating into a headache.

“Now I’m sorry,” Beth replied, giving him a quick smile. “I’m just tired.”

His crooked grin seemed at odds with his rough and rugged demeanor, but obviously she was forgiven. “I think you’re allowed to be,” he said with a touch of consideration.

Beth held his gaze a moment, surprised at his tone. Not what she’d expect from a friend of Jim.

“You both just sit down. We’ll do the dishes later,” Ellen said. “Beth, why don’t you tell us what the doctor told you this afternoon? We don’t get to see much of you, so it’s nice to catch up.”

“Everything is progressing the way it should,” Beth reported, repressing another surge of guilt at her mother-in-law’s muted reprimand. “But he wants to see me in a couple of days again, though I don’t know why.”

“I’m sure he just wants to keep his eye on you, given what you’ve had to deal with.” Ellen gave her a gentle smile.

“But you’re feeling okay?” Bob asked, a touch of concern in his voice.

“I saw your light on at twelve o’clock last night,” Ellen said. “Were you having a hard time sleeping, my dear?”

“I usually do,” was all Beth said.

They didn’t need to know she stayed up until two o’clock taking apart the cards she had already made, rethinking designs and colors all to impress an absent boss. Like Jim, Bob and Ellen didn’t understand how she could spend so much time on her “little hobby,” as Jim had called it, so she didn’t talk about it in front of them.

Bob leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his worn plaid shirt. “So things are okay for you, Beth?”

“Just fine.” An awkward silence followed her brief comment and Beth looked down at her clenched hands resting on her stomach. She felt Nick watching her and wished she could leave.

During the entire meal he’d been giving her sympathetic smiles. Poor dead Jim’s pregnant widow.

A surefire combination for pity. But she didn’t want his or anyone else’s pity. She just wanted to get on with her life. And having Jim’s friend around wasn’t helping. Especially a friend who constantly talked about Jim as if he was a devoted husband and excited father-to-be.

Beth shot a nervous glance at the clock. Her brother had told her that she had to call him at seven-thirty on the dot if she wanted to connect with him. It was seven-fifteen. Time to go.

She pushed her chair back and ponderously got to her feet. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me,” she said, shooting a quick glance around the table. “I have to make an important phone call.”

Ellen frowned her curiosity, but Beth wasn’t about to tell her that her conversation with her brother was about her moving off the ranch and into his apartment in Vancouver.

She knew the Carrutherses expected her to stay on the ranch indefinitely, but she couldn’t. Especially now that Jim was gone. She had to get on with her life and away from the memories.

“I’ll walk you to the house,” Bob said, making a move to get up.

“No. There’s no need.” Beth raised her hand to stop him. “You keep visiting with Nick. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll walk her to the house,” Nick said, standing up and pushing his chair under the table.

She should have quit while she was ahead, Beth thought. She did not want to spend any more time with Nick than she had to. She was tired of smiling at his stories about Jim, tired of how impressed Nick was with Jim’s supposed devotion to her.

“I’m okay. Really,” Beth protested again.

“I’m sure you are, but it’s dark and slippery,” Nick said, coming around the table. “And I promised Jim I’d look out for you.”

Beth stifled another protest. Going along with his chivalry was the best way to get through this. He would be gone tonight. Soon she’d be living in Vancouver and Nick and Jim and the Carruthers family would be part of her past.

“Thanks so much for dinner,” she said to Ellen. “It was delicious.”

“You can come anytime, you know,” Ellen said, a hopeful note in her voice.

“I don’t want to impose.”

And before they could tell her yet again that her presence would never be an imposition, she walked out of the kitchen. Waddled, more like.

All the way to the entrance she was far too aware of Nick looming behind her. She quickened her pace, but in spite of his limp he moved surprisingly quick. He had moved past her, pulling her coat off the rack in the entryway. A protest sprang to her lips, but it was probably better, for now, to simply put up with all his hovering.

As he lifted her coat up over her shoulders, his fingers brushed her neck. A tiny shiver danced down her spine and Beth jerked away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gruff. “Just trying to help.”

“It’s okay.” She murmured her automatic reply, wondering why she felt so jumpy around him. Probably because she fell short of his expectations of the grieving widow.

Not much she could do about that. She had shed more tears before Jim died than after.

A brisk wind howled around the yard as they stepped out from the shelter of the trees. Beth pulled her coat closer around her, shivering.

“Are you warm enough?” Nick asked as he walked alongside her, his footsteps crunching on the dry snow.

She wasn’t, because her coat was too small and could barely close around her stomach. She didn’t want to spend money on another one when she would be moving to a warmer city soon. So she just shivered through the cold.

“I’m plenty warm enough.”

They walked in silence toward her house. In the distance a coyote sent a howl up to the sliver of moon hanging just above the mountains. Stars were scattered bits of light in the inky-black sky above them. She felt her tension ease away in the presence of all this peace and beauty.

As much as this place held bad memories, she knew she would miss it. The peaceful quiet was a welcome antidote to the emotions warring in her soul.

“So how are you managing?” Nick asked as he limped alongside her, his hands in his pockets. “With Jim gone?”

“I’m okay.”

“And financially?”

“I’ve got my…widow’s pension and I work part-time in a craft store in town. I used to work as a waitress until my boss told me I had to quit.” She worked both places for minimum wage, but every penny was deposited into her escape fund.

Only, now she didn’t have to escape anymore. Jim had left her before she could leave him.

“I know I said it before,” Nick continued. “But I’m really sorry for your loss. I’m sure it’s…hard. What with the baby and all,” he said, his voice a rough sound in the quiet evening. “I know Jim looked forward to seeing you again and the baby, of course. Being a family again.”

Beth suppressed a burst of anger. Being a family hadn’t been high on Jim’s list of priorities before he left.

“I’m sure he was,” was her noncommittal reply.

They came to the darkened house and Beth shivered again, her steps slowing. She’d forgotten to turn on a light before she’d left for the Carrutherses’ house. She hated coming home to a dark place.

It meant no one was home and she would be all alone again.

She climbed the single stair to the front door and turned to Nick. In spite of gaining half a foot, she still had to look up at him.

He was good-looking enough and Beth wondered again why he was single. She knew from the few letters Jim had sent home that his friend was thirty-four and had never been married.

Why was she thinking about him? His life was none of her concern. He would be gone by tomorrow and in a week, if all went well, so would she.

“Thanks for walking me back to the house,” she said. “I think I can manage from here.”

Nick shifted his weight to his other foot and hunched his shoulders as he released a heavy sigh. “Beth…I feel wrong being here…just me. Jim always said he wanted to bring me to see his parents’ place, bring me to meet you…” His voice faltered. Then he coughed and composed himself. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could make things better. When…when Jim was dying, he asked me to tell you that he loved you. That he was sorry.”

Beth blinked back a sudden and unexpected flush of tears. Jim had said he was sorry so many times that the words had lost their meaning and their power to change her view of him.

“I appreciate you telling me this,” she murmured, sensing Nick’s need to know he had completed his mission. “Thank you.”

Nick cleared his throat again. “I wish I was good with words, but I’m not. I just can’t find the right ones to tell you how sorry I am.”

Beth looked at him, then released a heavy sigh. “Words are cheap and easy to throw out, so don’t worry about not having the right ones.”

Nick gave a jerk of his head that Beth supposed was a nod. “Before Jim died he asked me to make a promise to take care of you. And to take care of your baby. I’m not sure how I’m going to keep those promises—”

“Don’t say anything more.” Beth held up her hand. “I can manage on my own. So I absolve you of whatever promise Jim made you make. You can leave tonight knowing you’ve done your job. For the rest, I just want to start the next phase of my life on my own.”

When she saw the frown on his face she regretted the harsh note that had entered her voice. She’d been so careful to keep things under control. She couldn’t let herself be drawn into the uncertain area of words and emotions where she knew she would lose her footing and her way.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, pulling back from her anger. “Thanks for bringing me to the house. I appreciate you coming and telling me what you told me. As for what Jim told you…well…Jim tended to be kind of dramatic, so don’t take what he said too seriously.” She stopped, realizing how that sounded. Jim had made Nick agree to the promise while he was dying. Of course it would be dramatic. She sighed and tried again. “I guess I’m saying that it’s okay. I understand what Jim was trying to do, but it isn’t necessary. So thanks for delivering the message. And…well…goodbye.” Since there was nothing more to say, she slipped into her house and shut the door.

She leaned her tired head against the rough wood as Nick’s words resonated in her mind. Jim asked me to watch out for you.

She closed her eyes, then slammed her fists against the door, trying to find an outlet for the myriad of emotions tangling and twisting through her mind.

“Why did you tell him that, Jim?” she whispered into the dark, wishing her husband could hear her. “You never cared before.”

She waited a moment, trying to find equilibrium and trying not to let even the tiniest flicker of hope lull her into believing anything Jim told Nick.

Jim’s words meant nothing. They hadn’t before he died. They certainly didn’t now.

No matter what Nick thought.

Chapter Two

Nick spun away from Beth’s closed door, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he limped down the sidewalk. Why had he offered to escort her back to the house? Why did he put himself through this?

Because after looking at her across the dinner table, after seeing the grief on her face, he couldn’t let her leave on her own.

Though she hadn’t said anything, in those few moments walking alongside her, looking into her up raised face lit by the moon’s soft glow, something elemental had shifted inside him.

Something dangerous and wrong.

He was growing attracted to Jim’s widow.

He neared the main house, the heaviness of his guilt and grief weighing him down as much as his injury.

“That was quick.” Ellen paused in her task of loading the dishwasher and looked up as Nick stepped into the kitchen. “Is Beth okay?”

“Yeah. She seems to be. I think she just wanted to be alone.”

“She spends too much time alone,” Bob said, getting up from the table. “We’ve tried to have her over time and time again, but she gives us one of her reserved smiles and says she’ll think about it. Still can’t see how she and Jim ended up together.” Bob shook his head in puzzlement. “Jim loved to chat and talk and be around people. Beth never says much. Never did.”

“Beth is just a quiet girl,” Ellen said. “And yes, it would be nice if she opened up to us, but Jim said the same thing. She’s just more reserved, that’s all. Keeps to herself.”

“I’ll say,” Bob harrumphed, tugging his jeans up over his ample girth. “All she does now is sit at home alone, making those silly cards of hers.”

“Cards?” Nick shot Ellen a puzzled look.

“Beth likes to craft greeting cards.” Ellen walked to the refrigerator and pulled a card loose from a magnet holding it in place. “This was one she made for my birthday.”

Nick took the card, glancing down at the flowers and ribbon and cutout pieces of paper decorating the front. Happy Birthday was printed in shiny letters and pasted on a circle on the top of the card.

“Pretty,” was all he could say. He flipped it open and glanced over the printed poem on the inside with Beth’s signature written on the bottom, then handed the card back. “Looks like she put a lot of work into it.”

“Waste of time and paper is what I say,” Bob re plied.

“It probably keeps her mind off Jim. Though now the poor girl has other things to think about.” Ellen pressed her lips together as she traced the raised words on the card.

Nick thought of his own mother and for a moment felt an echo of an older grief. Life was so messed up. He had no parents and Bob and Ellen had no son and here they were together.

Bob cleared his throat. “Let’s go sit in the living room.” He nodded toward Nick. “We always have devotions there after supper. Do you have time to join us?”

Nick held his gaze as a trace of his former life drifted into his thoughts. His parents always had devotions after supper, as well. They would read the Bible and pray sincere prayers, believing God heard them.

“You don’t have to join us if you don’t want to. Beth never has,” Ellen said quietly, misunderstanding his silence as she tacked her card back on the refrigerator. “If you have plans for tonight, I understand.”

He faltered, wishing he could simply say no. But he was their guest and even though he and God hadn’t spent much time together lately, he didn’t have to deny their faith. Joining them was the least he could do for his buddy’s parents.

Besides, he didn’t have anything else to do. Go back to Cochrane to a hotel and from there…

He put the thought aside as Ellen tucked her arm through his.

“You know, I feel as if we know you beyond the few letters Jim would send,” she said as they walked to the living room. “When Jim told us your parents had died when you were just a teenager, we started praying for you, too.”

“Thank you,” he said. The thought that they remembered him in their prayers warmed some forgotten part of his soul. Sure, he didn’t believe in prayers anymore, and the fact that Nick was here, and not the son they had also prayed for, proved that.

But yet…

As Nick entered the living room his steps slowed. While the kitchen was cozy and comfortable, this room looked like part of a movie set. The log walls soared up a story and a half. Windows covered one entire wall. Though they were just dark rectangles and triangles now, Nick suspected, given the orientation of the house, that in the daytime one had an unsurpassed view of the mountains.

The room created a sense of space and, at the same time, peace and warmth. For the smallest moment he regretted not deciding to stay here longer.

As Nick looked around he noticed a group of pictures.

“Are those pictures of Jim?” he asked Ellen. “Can I have a look?”

“Of course. Our home is your home.” She made the offer as easily as offering him another piece of pie.

His eyes flicked over the pictures. Jim flashing a gaptoothed grin. Jim holding up a fish. Jim wearing a football uniform in high school. Jim in a tuxedo, his arms slung over the shoulders of two attractive women, one of them with dark brown hair, the other a redhead, but neither of them blonde Beth. Looked like high-school graduation.

Beside the gallery a shelf held a formal photograph of Jim in uniform looking more solemn than Nick ever remembered him to be. And beside that, a wedding picture of Beth and Jim.

He leaned forward to get a better look.

Nick recognized the grin on Jim’s face. The same one he often saw when Jim would beat Nick in a video game. The same one he saw on Jim’s face just before—

Nick pushed the memory aside, turning his attention to Beth in the photo.

The veil, the white dress and her long, curly hair all combined to give her an otherworldly air. Though she looked stunningly pretty in this picture, the Beth he had just met had a mature beauty that this picture gave only hints of.

He thought of the picture of her that Jim always carried around. She looked as serious in that picture as she did in this one—as serious as she had this evening. He wondered if he would ever see her smile.

“That’s the trouble with having only one child—one does tend to take a lot of pictures,” Ellen said, coming to stand beside him.

“I’m sure you’re glad you did now,” Nick said.

Ellen adjusted Jim and Beth’s wedding picture. “I just wish we had a few more of Beth, but Jim isn’t…wasn’t one to take many photographs.” She sighed, then brightened. “But now we have a grandchild coming, so I have another reason to take pictures.”

“You must be thrilled about that,” Nick said.

“I’ve been knitting and sewing all winter,” Ellen said with a note of pride. “Beth doesn’t know it, though. I want the gifts to be a surprise.”

Beth was lucky to have so much help.

So she doesn’t really need yours.

The insidious voice twisted through his mind and he sighed. He had promised.

And what can you possibly do for her? What can you offer her that this family can’t? She doesn’t even want you around.

Nick gave his head a light shake. He knew that promising Jim he would look out for Beth seemed a vague idea at best. He had come to Alberta with no clear plan other than to see her and to make sure she was okay.

But the trouble was now that he’d spent an evening with her, other emotions worked themselves through his soul.

Attraction and appeal and a desire to protect that had little to do with Jim’s promise and more to do with the fact that he’d been intrigued by Beth from the first moment he saw her picture.

Don’t kid yourself. You can’t take care of anybody. She’s not for you.

Nick clenched his hands as his thoughts hammered at his composure.

He turned away from the pictures.

Ellen curled up in a chair on one side of the woodstove while Bob threw another log on the crackling fire. With a heavy sigh, Bob settled into a worn leather recliner opposite Ellen, pulled a book off an end table beside his chair and leaned back.

Nick took this as a hint that they were ready. So he dropped onto the leather couch facing them, leaning forward, his hands clasped together. He felt the way he did whenever he had to talk to his commanding officer. Unsure of the reception, but unwilling to let his uncertainty show.

Bob opened the book, the crackling of the pages the only sound in the easy quiet filling the room.

“I thought I would read Psalm 46,” Bob said, pulling out a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and perching them on his nose. “Jim had to memorize this Psalm for one of his Sunday school classes.” He took a wavering breath. “I thought it was appropriate, considering the circumstances.” He cleared his throat and began. “‘God is our refuge and strength. An ever-present help in times of trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea…’”

As he read, his voice rose and fell. The words and images they brought to mind seemed to ease the tension that had gripped Nick since he stepped out of the cab.

He hadn’t wanted to come here and when Beth had told him that she absolved him of his responsibility to Jim, he felt a sense of relief.

Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t finished here.

“‘…He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth; He breaks the bow and shatters the spear, He burns the shields with fire. Be still and know that I am God…’”

Nick felt the words settle into his soul and, in spite of the cynicism and bitterness that had been his constant companion, here with Bob and Ellen in their home, he felt God’s presence and comfort.

“‘…the God of Jacob is our fortress.’” Bob paused at the end, the words a gentle echo in the silence that wrapped around them.

Bob kept his gaze on the Bible, his hand resting on the page, as if drawing strength from it. “Ellen and I prayed every day for Jim and for his safety.” He sighed and shook his head. “We hoped Jim would come home and eventually come to stay here in the mountains of Alberta, and not die in the mountains across the ocean.” He paused, gathering himself. “But God’s ways are the best ways and we’re not sure what He has in store for us.” Bob gave Nick a direct look. “But we are thankful that you could be here, Nick. That you could come to stay with us.” Bob sighed, waited another moment then quietly spoke. “Let’s pray.”

He and Ellen lowered their heads and folded their hands and Nick followed suit.

“Dear Lord, we thank You that we know You are our refuge and strength in this world even though all we see sometimes is sorrow and pain. We thank You that You care for us. Help us as we struggle with Jim’s death. Give us strength and help us to understand…” As Bob’s voice faltered, a shard of iron entered Nick’s soul.

God hadn’t heard their prayers for their son’s safety, had He? And what about my parents? Where was He when they died?

Yet as Bob prayed Nick found he couldn’t hold on to his anger, and in the face of this man’s sincere faith and trust in God, his soul softened.

“…but we know that all things work together for good, and we trust that’s going to happen now. Thank You for Your word to us that You will never leave us or forsake us. Help us to cling to that word. Amen.”

Nick kept his head lowered a moment, Bob’s words like a touch of hope in Nick’s lonely life.

Jim had said his parents were churchgoers. Nick had assumed their attendance was a community thing the way Jim had spoken of it. The kind of thing rural people did as a way of connecting with each other. Yet when Bob prayed, it was as if he truly believed God listened to what he said. As if Bob and God had a special relationship.

“Jim talked about you a lot, Nick,” Ellen said. “And we feel like we know you the way he did. Jim told us that you, like him, were an only child. He said that your parents died when you were eighteen and that you don’t have much extended family.” Ellen paused, glanced at Bob, then looked back at Nick. “I’m guessing you don’t have many obligations yet because of your medical discharge. And I’m sure that you can find work, but I’m also sure you could use the rest. The quiet. So…what I’d like to let you know…what we’d like to let you know…is we would love to have you stay for a while. As long as you like or need to. With us.”

Nick sat back, surprised. Though Jim had told him his parents were hospitable and generous, he hadn’t expected this.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” was all he could stammer out. He wasn’t sure he wanted to make that kind of commitment. When he had received his discharge, he had initially felt as if the ground had been cut out from under him. All he had known since he was eighteen was the army.

Then, once he got used to the idea, a sense of freedom overtook him. He had possibilities and a chance to start over. A chance to put what happened in Afghanistan behind him.

Staying with Bob and Ellen would be a constant reminder of the accident.

And seeing Beth regularly?

Bob leaned forward, his eyes holding Nick’s. “We’re lonely, too. And losing Jim…” His voice faltered again.

Nick hesitated, digging through his confusion for the right words. “I’m really thankful for the offer…but I don’t think I can—”

Ellen held up her hand, a smile tinged with sorrow lifting her mouth. “We don’t want you to feel any obligation and we certainly don’t want to put any pressure on you, so please don’t feel like you have to say yes. We thought it would be good for all of us to spend time together.”

His mind skipped back to the ranch he grew up on. The security of his home life and the love of his parents.

Then he thought of facing Beth every day for the next few days and he shook his head. “I appreciate your very generous offer, but I’m sorry.”

Ellen’s smile faltered but she nodded. “Of course. You have things to do. I understand. And I’m sure Beth will, too.”

Nick thought back to his brief conversation with Beth. How she had “absolved” him of his obligation. He had a feeling that, in her opinion, there was nothing to understand or care about.

“Would you be willing to at least stay the night?” Bob asked, leaning forward, hope in his voice.

Nick bit his lip, then a sigh eased out of him. “Sure. I’ll stay the night,” he said.

How hard could it be to spare these people one evening of his time?

“Are you sure you only need two weeks here?” Beth’s brother asked as Beth shifted the phone to her other ear, plumping a pillow and adjusting a plant while she listened.

Though Art had told her clearly that she had to call at 7:30 p.m. on the dot, when she’d dutifully made the call he wasn’t home. Nor was he home at eight or nine.

So she’d called him first thing this morning and as a result, had woken him up. Not the wisest move, but Beth forced herself to put up with Art’s early-morning surliness because he had something she wanted.

A room and a bed in a town house in Vancouver.

“I’m not due for another five weeks,” Beth said, forcing herself to speak quietly as she walked around her house, tidying an already achingly neat living room. “I only need two to three weeks to find my own place so I can settle in before the baby is born.”

“You sure you don’t want to move in with Curt and Denise?”

“Be realistic, Art. You saw how cramped things were when we got together there for Christmas.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“And with Mom living there, there’s really no room.”

Their brother, Curt, and his wife, Denise, lived in a tiny mobile home in a town so small that if a person glanced sideways, they’d miss it. There were no opportunities for Beth there and, as she had told Art, no room in the trailer.

“Okay. You can come. As long as it’s only a couple of weeks and it’s just you, and no kid. I’ve got another guy coming after you and I can’t have you around if you have a kid.”

Beth clutched the phone, pressing back the words threatening to spill out. That the “kid” she carried was his niece or nephew seemed lost on Art. But then, Art had never been the most tactful nor the most considerate of her brothers.

Then a tightening seized her abdomen, as if her baby also protested the situation. She laid a hand over her stomach, as if to settle the child.

“Don’t worry, Art. I won’t cramp your lifestyle.” The angry words spilled out before she could stop them.

“Hey, little sis, I didn’t mean it that way,” Art said, instantly remorseful. “It’s just, well, I’m kind of under the gun at work and things are piling up personally. Well, you know how things are with me and Abby…”

Beth made some appropriate noises even though she had a hard time feeling sorry for a man who had been putting off his wedding date for the past five years.

“So, well, that’s the deal. Uh, are you doing okay?” Art asked, giving his version of sympathy. “You know, with Jim gone and all?”

“I’m doing okay,” she said, her anger sifting away in the light of his confused concern.

“You still working?”

“Yeah. Part-time at the craft store and I—”

“Becker. Get out of there.” Art’s sudden yell made her jump. “Hey, Beth. Sorry. Gotta run. Becker’s digging in his dog food again.”

A click in her ear told Beth that the conversation and Art’s sympathy had come to an abrupt halt.

Though she should know better, Beth felt the prick of tears. Neither Art nor Curt were the storybook brothers her friends in school had thought they were. Thirteen years separated her and Art, the youngest of her two brothers. By the time Beth had come into the family, the boys were in their teens, interested in cars, women and anything but a little sister who cried a lot and, as she grew older, loved to dress up and play with dolls. Anything she had to say to them was greeted with grunts, blank stares and commands to get out of their rooms.

And shortly after she turned six, they both moved out, leaving her with a distant father and a mother struggling to keep her marriage together. A failing proposition, as it turned out.

Beth dropped the phone on the table and glanced at the clock. She had to get going if she wanted to meet Shellie at the store this time. She started for the kitchen to prepare her bag lunch just as she heard a scraping sound outside the house.

What was going on?

She opened the door a crack.

A flurry of snow flew through the air, then another, and through it, Beth made out a man, bent over, wielding a snow shovel.

Who…?

Then he straightened and Beth’s heart dropped into her boots.

What was Nick Colter still doing here? And why was he shoveling her sidewalk?

“Excuse me. Can I help you?” The question was rhetorical, seeing as how it was he who was supposedly helping her.

Nick brushed some snow off his dark hair and gave her a quick look, his cheeks ruddy with the cold. “I don’t think so. Not in your condition.”

“So…what are you doing here?”

Nick rested his hands on the top of the shovel and shrugged as he glanced at the piles of snow he had created on either side of her walk. “I’m guessing shoveling snow, but if you want to call it something else…”

“I thought you were leaving last night.” The remark came out more bluntly than she had intended, but his unexpected presence unnerved her.

“Me, too.” Nick bent over and pushed another pile of snow up, then tossed it easily aside. “Bob and Ellen asked me to stay for a night. They wanted to hear a bit more about Jim, I guess.” Nick grunted as he cleared away another space on her sidewalk.

“You don’t need to clear my walk.” She glared at him, as if to underline her message, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“You might not think so,” he returned, intent on his work. “But I don’t think your baby would appreciate you slipping and falling.”

Beth was about to say something more, then changed her mind. She had to get ready for work. Maybe he’d be gone by the time she was done.

But when she stepped out the door the second time, briefcase in one hand, bag lunch in the other, he was cleaning snow off the sidewalk that ran along the front of the house.

He looked up as she closed the door. “The snow here is really packed,” he said. “Has it ever been shoveled?”

“I’ve never shoveled it because it just leads to the back door, which I never use.”

Nick stopped his work, his expression puzzled. “You’ve been shoveling your own sidewalk?”

“Yeah.” Why did he sound so surprised? Jim was gone so much she had learned very early how to fend for herself.

“I thought Bob would.”

“He’s offered, but I take care of myself,” she replied, locking the door behind her. She caught him frowning at her again. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong.” He scratched his head. “I just figured you’d be glad for your in-laws’ help. I know they’re very concerned about you.”

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

Nick nodded slowly, glancing at her stomach. “I’m sure you do.” Then he looked up at her and she saw a softening in his features that resurrected the shiver she felt last night when his hand brushed her neck. “I wish we could have met under other circumstances. I know Jim always talked about how he wanted to introduce you to me. Show me around the ranch.”

She gave him a quick smile, wishing he would stop talking about Jim and her as if they were some storybook couple. “I appreciate that you wanted to follow through on your promise to Jim and that’s admirable, but I have to move on.”

“I understand, but I also know how much it must hurt to have lost him. I know he loved you so much.” His voice held a wistful note.

“Jim was always a good storyteller,” she said, skirting the truth with a non sequitur.

“He sure was. When things were really hard and the fighting got close, I used to get him to tell me stories of the ranch and you. How you met, what you were like. He always obliged. And I know it sounds corny, but knowing you were here, waiting for him, made it a bit easier for me.” Nick released a short laugh, as if embarrassed of his revelation.

She wouldn’t see him anymore, Beth thought. What would it hurt if she gave him just a little bit of what he expected? He just delivered a message from his buddy. It wasn’t his fault Jim was not the buddy Nick presumed he was.

“Jim was a great guy,” she said. “He took care of me and…I loved him.” At one time, anyway, so it was partly true. “I know I’ll miss him a lot.” More than that she couldn’t give Nick. “Thanks again, I guess, for delivering your message.” She felt as if she should say a bit more. He had come all this way to deliver a message she didn’t want to hear, but he had come. That must have been difficult if, indeed, he and Jim were as close as Nick indicated. “I suppose you’ll be gone when I come back?”

“More than likely. Got a few things I need to do. Gotta get on with my life, such as it is.”

Beth fidgeted a bit more as a heavy silence rose up between them. A silence holding words that could not be given form. Words that would change too much between people whose only connection was the memory of a man whom they both saw so differently.

She looked into his eyes and saw curiosity behind the vague concern. But she also saw a man who kept a promise by coming here. “I guess this is goodbye,” she said, shifting her briefcase under her arm to hold out her hand.

“I hope things go well for you and your baby.” He shook her hand, his grip firm, decisive. “Will you let me know what you have when your baby is born?”

“I will.”

“I can give you my cell number,” he said, pulling out a piece of paper.

Beth paused a moment while he shifted his weight and unzipped his coat. He pulled a pen and a small notepad out of his shirt pocket, scribbled a number on the paper and ripped it out.

She glanced down at the number, then up at him. “Thanks. I’ll get Bob or Ellen to call you.”

He tipped her a crooked smile. Their eyes held a fraction of a moment longer and to Beth’s surprise she felt a remnant of a long-forgotten emotion.

Attraction? Appeal?

She shook the moment away then shoved the paper in her purse. “Thanks for cleaning my walk.”

“You’re welcome.” He held her gaze for an extra beat, as if he wanted to say something more.

She lifted her hand in a wave, then ambled off. But all the way to her car she felt his gaze on her. It unnerved her and as she got into her car, she felt a spasm in her abdomen.

She pressed her hand against her stomach, arching her back against a surprising jolt of pain. These Braxton Hicks contractions weren’t supposed to hurt.

“Easy now,” she murmured to her unborn child. “Just bide your time. Everything is going to be okay. He’ll be gone by this afternoon.”

And with him, hopefully, another reminder of Jim.

Chapter Three

Nick watched Beth’s car leave in a plume of exhaust, confusion and frustration vying for the upper spot in his mind.

When she said goodbye, a part of him rebelled. As he looked into her eyes he felt a stirring of a disloyal emotion. He didn’t want this to be the end.

But who did he think he was? Not some white knight riding in to save the damsel in distress. He was nothing but trouble and the farther he stayed away from Jim’s beloved wife, the better.

He turned back to his shoveling. This, at least, he could do for her.

When he was done, he straightened and a jolt of pain clutched his hip. He clenched his teeth, riding it out. Maybe cleaning her walk wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

As he took a long, slow breath, he looked around. His eyes followed the contours of the fields, softened by snow. A cluster of brown dots broke the white expanse beyond the cattle feeders. Some of the more adventurous cows had moved away from the corrals where they were fed and out into the field.

Nostalgia drifted over his mind at the scene. His parents’ ranch had been nestled along a lush river valley between two mountain ranges. The fields were long and narrow, rather than open and spread out, but it created the same feeling in his soul.

A yearning for a time when his life had purpose and a center. A time when he had a family.

He tried to laugh away the melancholy feeling as he shouldered the shovel and limped slowly back to the ranch house. It was better this way. When he talked to other men in his unit, men like Jim who had families, they always had the extra worry of wondering what would become of their people if something happened to them.

He had no attachments and no concerns. Today he was heading back to Calgary. Maybe he would rent a motel room there for a couple of nights. Then he’d be off to Vancouver to visit an old friend.

Or not. At any rate, he was leaving today.

“Nick. Nick…”

Nick paused, listening. Was that Ellen’s voice he heard over the running of the tractor?

She sounded scared, and he started running.

He hurried past the house, cursing his limp as he rushed toward the corrals and the sound of Ellen’s voice.

“Nick, please help.”

He clambered over the fence and saw Ellen on her knees, Bob lying on the ground beside the tractor.

“These look really good, Beth. Just beautiful.” Shellie laid the cards out on an empty table in the back room of the craft store.

Beth clenched her hands behind her back. “I’m sensing a ‘but.’”

Shellie pushed her long red hair back from her face and sighed. “Why are you insisting on keeping yourself so busy?” Shellie glanced down at Beth’s stomach. “I mean, you’re going to have a baby.”

“But I need to keep busy,” Beth said.

“Can I give you some advice?” Shellie put her hand on Beth’s shoulder. “Jim’s been gone less than three months. You’re nearly eight months pregnant and you’re still coming here and working. You need to let yourself grieve. This silence of yours isn’t healthy.”

Beth grew cold and taut as Shellie spoke, then turned away. “I don’t want to talk about Jim,” she said as she sorted through her cards.

“I know how much this must hurt.” Shellie continued, ignoring Beth’s comment. “And you don’t have to try to be so strong all the time. You are allowed to cry. Jim’s mom and dad are worried about you. They say you haven’t shed a tear since the funeral.”

“I’m okay,” Beth insisted. “I’m probably still in the denial stage of grief.”

“Maybe you are. I still think you need to talk about Jim.”

Beth pressed her lips together, holding back the words that at times demanded to be spoken.

Beth had learned the hard way that words didn’t change things. Would Shellie believe her if she told the truth about Jim? Would his parents? Dear Bob and Ellen Carruthers whose eyes would drift to her stomach whenever they came to visit, as if to reassure themselves that part of their son lived on in the child that Beth carried.

The child she would take away from them.

Beth knew she could never tell them about Jim. Part of her reluctance was knowing nothing would be gained by taking those memories away from them.

The other was her own shame. She had taken Jim back twice and he had cheated on her a third time. She didn’t want anyone to know that.

Thank goodness Nick would be gone by the time she got off work. At least she wouldn’t have to face him and hear his stories about how much Jim missed her.

Beth pulled a few more cards out of her briefcase. “I thought if you carried these, people would be interested in finding out how to make them, so I was thinking we could maybe have a Saturday craft class.” She slid two cards toward Shellie. “This one,” she said, lifting up an intricate card. “I’d love to do a video tutorial on this one. For a potential blog.”

As she laid out her plans she could almost feel Shellie’s impatience with her reticence washing over her.

“Beth, honey, we have talked about this before. I don’t think people would come to the classes. I don’t want to do a blog and I highly doubt video tutorials are going to make any difference for us. You’re reaching too far.”

Ever since Beth started working for Crafty Corners, she had plans and dreams for the store well beyond Shellie’s. Her boss had taken the store over from her mother when it was just a hobby store and seemed content to keep the store what it was—a small craft store that sold products for local crafters.

She wasn’t sure herself why she bothered trying to persuade Shellie to change the focus of the store when she was leaving. It was just that Beth knew the place had so much potential and it bothered her to see it go to waste.

When Shellie guessed Beth wasn’t saying anything more, she turned back to the cards. “I guess I could sell these,” Shellie said, picking up some of the Valentine’s cards. “And you can stick around for a bit this morning because you’re here already, but I want to see you leaving here at noon.”

Beth put the rest of her cards back in her briefcase and set it on the ground. “I’ll sort out the new inventory,” she said, stifling a sigh. She trudged to the back room where the new shipment of supplies had come in, a gentle hope extinguished. She didn’t know what she really wanted. For Shellie to be ecstatic about what she had created? For her to be excited?

Because if she had seen any encouragement from her boss, Beth might believe in herself a bit more. Might believe there was a way she could channel her passion for cards and paper crafts into something that could augment her widow’s pension. She poured so much of herself into her craft. The cards had started as a way of putting feelings she couldn’t express into words, into pictures, into colors and patterns. Her family may not have listened to her, but they did pay attention to her cards.

She gave cards to teachers, to friends, to her family and slowly it became the one constant in her life. The one constant as she followed Jim from one army post to another all over Canada.

Beth had fought the move back to the Carrutherses’ ranch, but Jim had been adamant. He wanted her around his family before he shipped out to Afghanistan.

In retrospect, Beth was sure Jim had ulterior motives for the move, but at the time she agreed with it to keep peace.

Mostly she agreed to move because the move didn’t affect the plans she had been slowly putting into place.

She was leaving him, moving away and starting out on her own. She had made this decision a week after he shipped out and a week after she found out Jim had cheated on her—again. But she couldn’t leave while he was overseas. So she waited until his return so she could tell him to his face.

But Jim didn’t come back and she was unexpectedly pregnant and all that lay ahead of her was the uncertainty of motherhood as a widow.

As Beth finished sorting the paper, a feeling of self-pity loomed, like a huge black hole ready to draw her in. A hole she could not edge toward because there was no one to pull her back.

She was alone. She had to be strong for herself and the baby.

Her hands slowed as she stared out the window of the shop, watching the wind toss the snow around the streets of Cochrane. It was winter now, but spring was coming. That was a promise she knew would be kept.

The air felt brisk and cool and the snow crunched under her boots as Beth trudged up the driveway. She was glad she had gone for a walk when she had come home from work. The fresh air cleared the cobwebs of worry and concern from her head.

As she walked closer to the yard she heard the sound of a tractor. She glanced at her watch, then frowned.

Bob usually did the chores in the morning. Not at three in the afternoon. She didn’t see his truck when she came home so she had assumed he and Ellen were gone. She shoved her hands in the hoodie she had pulled on over her sweater before she left her house and walked toward the sound, wondering what was going on.

As she approached the corrals where the cows were housed for the winter, she saw the tractor dropping a bale of hay in the feeder along the fence. The tractor turned and faced her, then stopped.

And Nick jumped out of the cab.

She hurried toward him as he vaulted over the fence, running, calling her name.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why are you feeding the cows?”

Nick slapped his gloves together, a concerned expression on his face. “I had to bring Bob to the hospital this morning—”

“What happened?” Beth stared at him, blood roaring in her ears as she wavered on her feet. Not again, please, Lord, not again.

Nick reached out and caught her by the arm, steadying her. “It’s not life-threatening. He was repairing the front-end loader and it came loose and fell on him.”

Beth clutched her stomach against a sudden pain. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

“He broke his leg, but the doctors set it and Ellen is with him right now.”

Beth pressed her hand to her heart, then took a long, slow breath.

Nick frowned, moving closer. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine. I’m just…it’s just…” She couldn’t fit her emotions into the uncertainty of words. “You’re sure he’s okay?”

“Yeah. I tried to call you.”

“I left my cell phone at home.”

“I came back to do the chores, which didn’t get done this morning, so that’s why I’m still around.”

He sounded a bit defensive, as if unsure of her reaction.

“How long will it take for him to recuperate?” Beth asked.

Nick hunched his shoulders against a sudden gust of wind, then shifted as if to shield her from it. “I don’t know. The doctor said he’d be in the hospital for a few days and then lots of physio. He broke his femur, so while not life-threatening like I said, it’s still serious.”

Beth swayed again, then realized that Nick was still holding her arm. She pulled away. “I should go to see him.”

Nick shook his head. “He told me to tell you to stay home. He doesn’t want you driving.”

“That’s silly. I have to go see him.” She turned to go back to the house when Nick caught her by the arm again.

“Give me about half an hour to finish up here and I’ll drive you.”

She was about to protest when another spasm seized her stomach. What was going on? The doctor had told her everything was fine just yesterday.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I think so.”

He blew out his breath then his voice grew stern. “Let me drive you to see Bob. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

Beth drew in a long, slow breath, surprised at the fierce note in his voice. She was about to protest again when she caught his gaze. In that moment she didn’t see a man who was being thwarted—she saw a soldier who was used to commanding.

She gave in and nodded. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

“I’ll come get you when I’m done here.”

She nodded again, then walked, slowly back to the house, as if testing every step. But by the time she got there the pain was gone. Before she stepped inside, however, she shot a quick glance behind her.

Nick was watching her, his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed. Even from this distance she felt the intensity of his gaze.

She stepped quickly into the house, then made her way upstairs to her craft room. She needed to make a card for Bob. It would keep her mind busy while she waited for Nick.

As she pulled out pieces of paper, the general unease that had held her in its grip slowly eased away. Bob would be okay. He would be fine.

Beth pressed her inked-up stamp onto the card, sprinkled the embossing powder over the words she had just inked, tipped over the card and tapped the leftover embossing powder into the container.

She turned on her heat tool and gently waved it over the powder adhering to the stamped sentiment. Though she had done this countless times, it still gave her the tiniest thrill to watch the loose powder adhering to the image slowly melt and become cohesive—one shiny line of color, in this case deep blue, spelling out the words Get Well Soon.

She wasn’t sure why she bothered. She knew exactly what Bob would think of the card. He would give her a patronizing smile and set it aside and wonder once again how his son had ended up with someone so quiet, so different from boisterous Jim.

This was the only way she knew to tell him how she felt, however. Spoken words were easily ignored, misunderstood and ignored.

Words written in a handcrafted card had substance and lasted.

Besides, she had to do something to keep her mind off Nick still working on the yard below her. He was supposed to be gone, not running a tractor only a few hundred feet from the house. He made her uncomfortable and he brought expectations she couldn’t meet. And with those unmet expectations came guilt she thought she had banished months ago.

She didn’t want to pretend to be the grieving widow anymore. She wanted to move on with her life. Leave Jim and the memories of him and the shame he caused her behind her.

The powder melted and she turned off her heat tool and angled the card in the light coming from the window beside her. Not too cute, yet not too elegant. A man’s card, if there was such a thing. She resisted her usual urge to tie a ribbon on it, then picked up her pen and a piece of scrap paper.

She hesitated, the pen hovering above the paper. As always, the words took time coming as she struggled to imagine what Bob would want to hear from her.

She glanced sideways out the window overlooking the yard. From here she saw Nick still feeding the cows, though it looked as if he was filling the last feeder. As he got out of the tractor he walked through the crowd of animals, his movements deliberate and slow. She wondered how he’d got his limp. Wondered what kind of action he’d seen.

He cut the twine on the bale, ignoring the cows milling around him. Then he stepped back, winding up the strings he had just pulled off, his eyes on the animals with their heads now buried in the feeder.

Then he turned as if looking at the mountains. His hands stopped, falling to his side as he stood, perfectly still. Then, with a shake of his head, he returned to the tractor.

What had he been thinking in that moment? What was going through his mind?

He seemed to be so comfortable around the animals. So relaxed. She thought of what he had said last night at Bob and Ellen’s. How he had grown up on a ranch just like Jim had.

Except he seemed to enjoy the work a lot more than Jim ever did. She couldn’t recall Jim ever helping his father or even talking about the ranch with his father. The only reason they moved back to the ranch was for her sake, Jim had said. So she could have a home base and be near his parents.

Nick got back into the tractor, reversed and drove it past the other groups of cows. A few moments later he disappeared behind the shed and Beth knew he was parking the tractor, which meant he’d be here soon.

She turned her attention back to the blank piece of paper in front of her. What words could she put in there that would make Bob understand that she appreciated him? What words would be sufficient to let him know her turmoil at being here with such good people when their own son was so different from them?

She tapped her pencil on the paper, fragments of phrases spinning through her mind.

I appreciate your help…

Thanks for your support…

I wish I could tell you how I really feel…

Hope you get better in time for me to move away…

Beth tried to keep thoughts of her future at bay, but they crowded back into her mind, shoving and pushing and demanding attention.

What could she say to the man whose grandchild she would be taking away?

She pressed her fingers to her eyes, trying to marshal her thoughts, then pushed aside her practice paper, picked up her pen and wrote directly on the card. She waited for the ink to dry before she slipped the card in the matching envelope she had crafted.

She hoped he would read it and understand what she was trying to say.

A knock on the door downstairs pulled her away from her tangled, tiring thoughts.

“Come on in,” she called out, getting up. Her back throbbed more than when she had sat down. She arched her back against the pain, then shuffled to her bedroom across the hall to get ready.

She pulled her hair back again, tightening the elastic that held it in place. She did a quick check in the mirror. Her eyes looked too big, her mascara was smudged and she needed some more lipstick.

She grabbed a tube from her makeup basket, then caught herself. She was just going to the hospital. She dropped the lipstick tube, then spun away from the mirror and got the card.

As she carefully made her way down the stairs, Nick hurried forward and took her by the elbow. She was about to pull away, then realized how foolish that would be.

“Thank you,” she murmured, avoiding looking up at him.

“Is this your coat?” he asked, pulling it off the newel post of the staircase.

She nodded and reached for it but he already held it up for her. Again she felt a brush of disquiet when he settled the coat on her shoulders.

“Are you okay?” he asked when she pulled away again.

“Just not used to being treated like this,” she said with a jerky laugh, hoping to dispel the curious feelings he created in her.

“Really?” he asked with a puzzled frown. “Jim struck me as such a gentleman. He was always helping out the women at the base.”

Beth slipped the card she’d finished into her coat pocket and emitted a humorless laugh. “Of course he was.”

Nick’s frown deepened and Beth realized how that must have sounded.

Nick reached past her and opened the door. She tried not to look at him as she went through. Tried not to be aware of him as he walked beside her.

He made her uncomfortable because his presence brought up memories of Jim. That’s all, she told herself.

But as she gave him another sidelong glance and caught him looking at her, the faint quickening of her heart told her something else.

Chapter Four

Nick tapped his fingers on the steering wheel of the truck he had borrowed from Bob. His eyes were on the road ahead, but part of his attention was on the woman sitting beside him.

He didn’t usually have a hard time making conversation with women, but Beth was a puzzle he didn’t know how to solve.

Bob and Ellen eagerly listened to any story he had to tell about Jim, tears slipping down their cheeks at times. Beth didn’t seem to want to hear anything he had to say about Jim.

Maybe this was her way of grieving but there was something unhealthy about her reaction.

“So, how long have you been on the ranch?” he asked finally, wanting to make some kind of conversation to fill the awkward silence.

“Jim moved me here three weeks before he shipped out to Afghanistan.”

“He was based at Suffield, wasn’t he?”

Beth nodded, staring straight ahead, her arms folded over her stomach.

“I know he said it made him feel more relaxed, knowing you were at the ranch with his parents. He said he would have worried so much more if you had been somewhere else.”

In spite of Beth’s lack of response, Nick carried on. It was as if he had to keep Jim present between him and Beth.

Because, if he was honest with himself, his own feelings for Beth were shifting, changing. And not in a way he wanted to acknowledge.

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