North Country Hero

“I’m glad.” Kyle thought he’d never seen anyone who looked more at peace.

“Coffee?” Sara murmured from behind him.

Kyle tried to ignore the citrus scent that floated from Sara’s hair directly to his nostrils as she reached to set a cup in front of him. Brief contact with her hand ignited a spark that shot up his arm. Confused and irritated by the burst of reaction he did not want to feel, he edged away, shifting positions at the battered table.

“Thanks.” He couldn’t help the huskiness in his voice.

He did not like the reactions Sara evoked in him.

When he’d been injured, his fiancée had flown to his side in Kabul. Repulsed by the extent of his injuries, she’d dumped him and left on the next flight. That still burned. No way was he going to let himself get involved again. Besides, he was only back in town to close this chapter of his life.

“You’re welcome.” Sara handed Laurel a brightly colored mug of steaming brew then sat across from Kyle in a prim position, feet together, back ramrod straight.

Sara hadn’t poured a cup of coffee for herself. Instead, her long, thin fingers wrapped around a glass of plain water. Here in the kitchen, under the bright fluorescent lights, Sara might have passed for a teenager, except her serious eyes and the hint of worry lines around them told him she was older. Those eyes said she’d seen the rough side of life.

If Laurel had been a social worker, was Sara one of her “cases”? His questions about the younger woman mounted, matching the hum of the printer working overtime in Laurel’s office around the corner. He studied Sara more closely. She didn’t wear makeup. But then she didn’t need it. She had a natural beauty—high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes and wide mouth, all visible now that she’d scraped back her hair into a ponytail.

The room’s silence forced Kyle to refocus. He realized that Laurel had asked him his plans.

“I’m inquiring because Marla suggested you might be willing to give us a hand. I thought perhaps you could teach my boys what living in the North Country means.” Her smile flashed. “I’ve heard you’re the best tracker these parts have ever seen.”

Sara’s unusual eyes widened and refocused on him.

“Was, maybe.” Kyle grimaced at his messed-up leg then frowned at her. “Who told you about my tracking?”

“Everyone in town talks about you, Kyle. They’re so proud of your service overseas.” She went on to list all the things she thought he could teach her young offenders.

“Wait.” Kyle had to stop her. “I wish you success, Laurel. But I can’t take that on right now. Even if I could still do what I once did. Which I can’t.”

“I see.” She didn’t say anything more, nor did her face give away her thoughts.

Sara’s forehead furrowed in a frown as if she had a question. But she didn’t speak.

“And as for plans, I don’t have any firm ones yet.” He took a gulp of his coffee, glanced at his watch and knew he had to leave now, while the pain was still manageable. “I’m taking things one day at a time.”

Just then a low, menacing rumble filled the room, followed by a loud pop.

“Oh, it’s that dratted printer again. I’m beginning to wish I’d never seen the thing. It’s become my worst nightmare.” Laurel jumped up and raced to her office.

Sara’s wide eyes met his. “Excuse me.” She followed Laurel. It seemed as if she was eager to get away from being alone with him.

Kyle decided there was no point in sitting in the kitchen by himself. He walked to the office and paused in the doorway behind Sara, slightly shocked by what he saw. Two computers took up most of the floor space. They lay open, as if someone had been tinkering. A half-destroyed keyboard sat on top of a file cabinet beside a hard drive with six screws taped to it. In the corner, an assortment of cords and cables spilled out of a tattered cardboard box. He couldn’t decide if someone was tearing apart PCs or putting them together.

“Can we do anything?” Sara asked after exchanging a tiny smile with Kyle.

“I have no idea what’s wrong this time,” Laurel said, glowering at the now-silent printer. “I suppose I’ll have to call Winnipeg and get another sent out.” She exhaled. “That will take at least three days.”

“I can clean things up,” Sara offered. “But I’d be no help with fixing anything electrical.”

“I might be. My dad tinkered with computer stuff and I often helped him.” The words poured out before Kyle could stop himself. “Want me to take a look?”

“Would you?” Laurel stood back. “It’s jammed,” she explained.

“Yeah, I see that.” Kyle hid his grin as he eased past Sara. He pulled over an office chair and sank onto it, bending to examine the innards of the machine. With painstaking slowness he eased bits and pieces of paper free. After a moment of watching him, Sara brought a trash can so he could throw out the scraps. “Thanks.”

She didn’t smile, simply nodded. But those gray-silver eyes of hers followed every move he made between quick glances at the monitor. Since it was filled with an error message, Kyle couldn’t figure out what was so captivating. He refocused on the printer, removing the ink cartridge and resetting it after he’d lifted out the last shredded bit of paper.

“She has quite a stack of paper here. Do you suppose she’s printing a book?” he teased, winking at Sara.

“Sort of.” Sara picked up one of the printed sheets and read it. “It looks like a list of rules and procedures at Lives Under Construction. Is there one for each boy?” she asked Laurel.

“Yes. I was hoping to have them done before the boys get here.”

“Don’t worry.” Sara reached out and squeezed her fingers. Kyle noticed a smile flit across her lips. “I’m sure Kyle can do something. Can’t you?” She looked at him with a beseeching gaze that made him want to fix this fast. Why was that?

“It’s a good printer,” he told them. “But it’s touchy about loading in a lot of paper.”

“I think I know what that means. You’re not supposed to print more than a certain number of sheets at a time and then refill. Right?” She raised her eyebrows, waiting for Kyle’s agreement.

“Yes. That would be a good idea. But for now this thing needs a new part before it will work again.” He stood too quickly and clasped the corner of the desk to balance. A millisecond later Sara’s hand was on his elbow, steadying him.

There it was again, that lightning-bolt reaction to Sara’s touch. Kyle eased out of her grasp as fast as he could without looking rude.

“I suppose a new part will take forever to get here and cost the earth.” Laurel sighed.

“Not necessarily. My dad used to have a printer like this.” Kyle smiled at the memory. “Dad was a pack rat. I’m pretty sure the old printer is still in a closet somewhere. I could see if it’s still there and strip the part for you, if you want.” He didn’t look at Sara. The flare from her touch still lingered on his skin.

“But you’ve just come home,” Laurel said. “I’m sure you’re tired.”

“I’m fine.” Not quite true but Kyle wasn’t going to tell her that.

Laurel glanced once at the printer, her longing obvious. “Look, Kyle. I appreciate it, but—”

“Laurel, let him try,” Sara urged.

“She’s right,” Kyle agreed, surprised by Sara’s mothering tone. “Let me take a look at home first. If I can’t find anything, then you’ll have a better idea of your next step.”

“See? That makes sense.” Sara grinned at him as if they shared a secret and when she did, his heart began to gallop.

Kyle tried to ignore the effect this stranger was having on him.

“You’re right. Thank you, Kyle.” Laurel stepped forward and hugged him. “You are a godsend.”

“I doubt that.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Do you mind if we finish our coffee before we leave? I haven’t had coffee that good since I left home.”

“That’s Sara. She can make anything taste wonderful.” Laurel led the way to the kitchen.

Kyle stood back but Sara, her cheeks now pink, motioned for him to precede her. Once he was seated, she poured fresh coffee. Then she sat with folded hands, listening intently as he and Laurel chatted, though she never offered her own opinion. Very aware of the way Sara kept glancing toward the office, Kyle figured she must be impatient to check her email so he finished his coffee quickly, almost scalding his tongue.

It was time to go home. Time to stop avoiding the truth.

Back in Laurel’s car, Sara again sat in the rear seat but this time she leaned forward to listen as Kyle described Churchill’s landmarks. Ten minutes later they arrived at his father’s house.

“I’m sure you’d like a few moments alone,” Laurel said. “I have some things to do downtown. We’ll come back in half an hour. Will that give you enough time, Kyle?”

A lifetime wouldn’t be enough to reconcile losing his father but all he said was “Yes. Thanks.” He climbed out awkwardly.

In a flash, Sara exited the car and lugged his bag to the door.

“Will you truly be all right?” she asked, her somber gaze holding his.

“I’ll be fine.” He wanted to be upset at her for lugging his suitcase out, but her compassion was genuine so he forced himself to smile. “I’m used to managing.”

“Okay.” She opened her mouth to say something more, but apparently thought better of it because she turned around and climbed back into Laurel’s car without another word.

Kyle waited until the battered SUV rumbled away. Then he faced the house.

Home. He was finally home.

He squeezed his eyes closed against the loss that burned inside.

Why didn’t You take me instead? he asked God. I’m useless, but Dad wasn’t. He was needed around here. What am I supposed to do now?

Kyle stood there, waiting. But no answer came.

He was all alone. He’d better get used to it.

* * *

He was strong, he was knowledgeable and he was kind enough to help when asked. But Kyle Loness made Sara daydream and she couldn’t afford that.

Because of Maria.

“Sara? Are you awake?” Laurel shifted the van into Park then turned to frown at her. “Oh, you are awake.”

“Yes.” Sara shoved away thoughts of Kyle.

“Well, I’m going to be about fifteen minutes. Then we’ll pick up a few groceries before we go back to Kyle’s. Do you want to wait for me in the car?” she asked as she climbed out.

“No.” Sara followed her onto the sidewalk. “I’d rather walk a bit. I need to stretch my legs.”

“Okay. Stick to the main street. I remember your skewed sense of direction,” Laurel teased. “Don’t get lost on your first day in Churchill.”

“I’m better at direction now than I was.” Sara blushed, embarrassed by the reminder of her first faux pas after she’d left foster care. “I won’t get lost.”

She waited until Laurel had entered the building before heading toward Kyle’s house.

The thing was, no matter how Sara tried, she couldn’t seem to forget about him, and not just because he was so good-looking. Good-looking? Her brain scoffed. Kyle Loness was heartbreakingly handsome. Tall and muscular, the faint shadow of a beard defined the sharp jut of his jaw. Sara supposed he grew it to hide the scar that ran from the outside corner of his eye straight down past his jawbone, which, in her opinion, did nothing to diminish his good looks. And when he’d looked at her with his cornflower-blue eyes, a funny little shiver wiggled inside her, just like the heroines in the romantic novels she loved. How silly was that?

But it wasn’t only his good looks that drew her. The image of Kyle working on Laurel’s printer had been burned into her brain. Obviously he knew about computers. And she didn’t. But she could learn, if someone would teach her. Someone like—Kyle? Maybe he could help her find her family.

Sara scanned the street ahead and saw him standing where they’d left him. Her silly heart resumed the pattering that had begun when he’d stepped off the platform and stumbled into her arms. She tried to quell it by reminding herself that Kyle Loness would find little interest in her. Why would he? Sara knew nothing about men.

Is it only his computer knowledge that intrigues you?

Of course it was. He might look like a romance hero but Sara knew nothing about romance, men or relationships.

Confused by her thoughts, she refocused on Kyle, who seemed lost in thought. Then he straightened, stepped toward the house and jerked to a stop. In a flash Sara realized why. Kyle had forgotten about the stairs and was now trying to figure out how to maneuver them to get into his house.

She had a clear view of his face. The pain lines she’d glimpsed on the train when he’d hobbled to his seat this morning had now etched deep grooves on either side of his mouth. He bit his bottom lip, grabbed the railings on either side and basically dragged himself upward, inch by painful inch, increasingly favoring his injured leg. His chiseled face stretched taut with concentration as he fought his way upward. She held her breath, silently praying for him, only exhaling when he finally conquered the last stair.

When Kyle paused, chest heaving with his efforts, Sara wanted to cheer. The sun revealed beads of perspiration dotting his face. For a moment he seemed to waver, as he had when he’d stepped off the train and again earlier, in Laurel’s office. Sara took an automatic step forward to help, but froze when he reached out and turned the doorknob.

This was his homecoming. He wouldn’t want her there.

She didn’t belong. Again.

Hurt arrowed a path through her heart. She squeezed her eyes closed.

Focus on why you’re here, Sara. You’re here to help the kids. To figure out God’s plans for your future and to make up for Maria.

For years Sara had tried not to think about the little girl. But now, as she fingered the scar at her wrist, the memories burst free of the prison she’d locked them in.

She’d been twelve when she tried to escape her foster home, unaware that her foster sister had followed her onto the busy street—until she heard Maria’s cry when the car hit her. Sara had rushed to the child, cradling her tiny body as life slipped away, unaware of the shards of headlight glass that dug into her wrists, left behind by the speeding car.

Sweet, loving Maria had died because of her.

In shock and overwhelmed by guilt, Sara had been too scared to tell police the real reason she’d run, so after she’d relayed all she remembered about the car that had hit Maria and received stitches on her wrists, they’d taken her back to her foster parents, the Masters. The couple used Maria’s death to convince Sara that if she tried to leave again, her foster siblings would pay. After that, there’d been no need for the Masters to lock her in the basement each night.

Sara’s overwhelming guilt kept her in their abusive home. She had to stay to protect the other kids, as she hadn’t protected Maria. She’d stayed until her new social worker—Laurel—uncovered the Masters’ perfidy.

Almost eighteen, Sara had finally been removed from their care. But she hadn’t gone home because she didn’t have a home anymore. All she had were faded memories of her mother sitting on the sofa crying and her father stoically staring straight ahead while strange people took her away from them. She’d never known why it had happened and she’d never seen her family again.

Now she needed answers.

Blinking away her tears, Sara watched Kyle disappear inside his house. She waited a moment longer, then walked back to Laurel’s car, puzzling over why she’d felt compelled to ensure Kyle had made it inside his house.

“Because I saw how lost he looked,” she whispered to herself. “Because he needs help. Because... I don’t know.”

“There you are.” Laurel’s gaze rested on Sara’s hand as it rubbed her scar. She moved closer, touched a fingertip to the tear on Sara’s cheek then wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You’ve been thinking about the past again. Oh, my dear Sara. You’re free. God has something wonderful in store for you. Don’t let the past drag you down.”

“No, I won’t.” Sara dredged up a smile, hugged her back then walked beside her to the grocery store. But as they strolled down the aisles, she thought of Kyle inside his empty house.

They had something in common. Both of them had lost their families and neither of them could just forget about it.

Maybe, somehow, she could help him get over his loss.

Maybe if she did, he’d teach her how to use a computer.

Maybe then she’d finally find her family.

Chapter Two

Kyle rubbed his eyes, unable to dislodge memories evoked by the familiar aroma of his home. Tanned leather and Old Spice—it smelled of Dad, of happiness, of moments shared together. All of which were gone.

Emotion rose like a tidal wave. He fought for control.

When Kyle was younger, Churchill had been a fantastic adventure he’d embraced. Now it was just another problem in his life.

But for a moment, as the midmorning sun warmed Kyle through the window, the sensation of being loved enveloped him. He relaxed into that embrace. Comfort erased the pain of loss that dimmed everything in his world these days.

Home—without his dad? He closed his eyes and wept.

Moments later, footsteps treading up his stairs shattered his privacy. He rubbed his shirtsleeve across his face. The computer part. Of course.

“Come on in,” he called before they could knock.

Laurel preceded Sara into his kitchen. “Do you need more time?” Laurel scanned his face, then the empty tabletop.

“I haven’t looked yet.” He tore his gaze from the wall where a family photo hung. It had been taken six months before his mom’s death. “I was just sitting here—remembering.”

“You can help us out another time, when you’re more rested,” Laurel said in a gentle tone.

“I’m fine.” Kyle didn’t want to give Laurel any more chances to draw him into her program at Lives. He’d do this one thing for her now and then get on with his own life. He opened a door that had once been a pantry and nodded. “Yep, just as I thought.”

A small squeak of surprise made him glance over one shoulder.

Sara’s eyes were huge. She met his gaze, looked back at the shelves and said, “Oh, my.”

Finding her understatement hilarious, Kyle chuckled as he dug through his father’s accumulation of computer parts. “I told you Dad was a pack rat.”

“No luck, huh?” Laurel asked when he drew back from the cupboard.

“Not yet.” Kyle motioned to Sara. “Could you help me for a minute? I think the printer is on the bottom of this shelf. If you could hold up this box while I free it, I wouldn’t have to waste time unpacking all this junk.”

“Okay.” She moved beside him and followed his directions exactly.

With a tug Kyle freed the printer, but in doing so brushed against Sara. Assailed by a host of reactions, from the fragrance of her hair to the way one tendril caressed her cheek, to the fierce look she gave when he had to yank on the cord to free the end, he realized that asking for Sara’s help had been a bad idea.

He moved away, eager to put some distance between them and hopefully end his heart-racing response to her.

“Thanks.” He set the printer on the table and opened it.

“If you explained how to reinstall it, I wouldn’t have to drag you back out to Lives. Maybe I could do it myself,” Laurel said.

Kyle lifted his head and arched one eyebrow. From what he’d seen in her office earlier, Laurel Quinn’s aptitude did not lie in computers.

“Yeah.” Her face turned bright pink under his look. Laurel laughed. “You’re right. I haven’t got a clue.”

“I can do it in a matter of a few minutes,” he told her as he lifted out the part she needed. He deliberately didn’t look at Sara. “But you will have to bring me back home after, and I know you’re busy.”

“I’ve got almost everything ready to greet the first two boys, Barry and Tony.” Laurel’s eyes shone with expectation. “I’m hoping that while you and I are busy with the printer, Sara will start some of her fantastic cinnamon buns for tomorrow.”

“I can do that.” Sara, cheeks pink, looked away from Kyle. What was that about?

“I’ve got what we need.” He held up the tiny relay switch. “I’m ready to go.”

“Oh, Laurel, I just remembered. We’ll need to move those groceries so there will be enough room for everyone,” Sara said quickly.

Too quickly? Kyle searched her face. A puzzled Laurel opened her mouth, but Sara grabbed her arm and pulled, insistent. Frowning, Laurel stepped outside.

“Come out when you’re ready, Kyle,” Sara said, her voice a bit forced. “We’ll meet you at the car.”

And that was when Kyle got it. Sara knew the stairs gave him problems. She was keeping Laurel busy so he could navigate without feeling as if they were watching him.

Her thoughtfulness eased the knot of tension inside.

Sweet, thoughtful Sara. Why couldn’t he have met someone like her first?

Kyle shut down the wayward thoughts. He’d ruled out romance in Afghanistan the day he’d been dumped, and he wasn’t going to change his mind now. Anyway, Sara couldn’t care about him. How could she? He was a ruined shell with nothing to offer a woman. He couldn’t even figure out his own future.

Kyle shrugged on his jacket, shoved the printer part in his pocket and stood. He’d get this done and then move on to his own business. Sara was nice, sure. But there was no point in pretending her kindness was anything more than that.

Self-consciously he tromped down the stairs and walked to the car. Once again, Sara was seated in the rear seat, so Kyle sat in front. Once again, he filled in the drive’s silences with facts about Churchill. And once again, after he got the printer running, Sara served him her delicious coffee along with a sandwich and some kind of lemon cookie that melted in his mouth. As Kyle ate, he quashed his yearning to linger, to get drawn in by the warmth of Sara’s smile and forget the emptiness that awaited him at home. He couldn’t afford to forget that. His future wasn’t here in Churchill. God had made sure of that.

So finally he pushed back his chair, thanked Sara for the lunch and asked Laurel to take him home. Sara walked with them to the car.

“I’m glad to have met you, Kyle,” she said, hugging her arms around her thin waist, revealing the scars he’d noticed earlier. “I’ll be praying for God to bless you with a wonderful future.”

“Thanks.” He wanted to tell her asking God for anything was pointless but he didn’t. Instead, as they drove away, he voiced the other question that plagued him. “What is Sara’s story, Laurel? Why is she here in Churchill? She looks like she’ll blow away in the wind.”

“You’ll have to ask Sara. Suffice it to say that she deserves happiness and I hope she’ll find some here. She’s a wonderful person.” Laurel smiled at him. “So are you, Kyle. Anytime you want to fill in a few hours of your day, feel free to drop by. Lives Under Construction can always use another hand.”

“I know Marla told you I’d be interested in doing that,” Kyle admitted. “But the truth is, all I want to think about right now is cleaning up my dad’s place.”

Laurel patted his shoulder then swung the van into his driveway. “After you’ve had time to grieve, please visit us, even just for another cup of Sara’s coffee.”

“I’ll think about it,” Kyle said, knowing he’d do no such thing. He climbed out of the car. “Thanks again. See you.”

Kyle waited till Laurel’s car disappeared, then braved the stairs again. Inside, the house seemed empty, lonely. He flicked up the thermostat and sat down in his father’s recliner in the living room. A notebook lay open on a side table. He picked it up.

“Two weeks until Kyle comes home. Yahoo!” His father’s scrawl filled the page, listing things they’d do together. Kyle slammed the book closed.

Why? his heart wept. Why did You take him before I could see him again?

Suddenly he heard Sara’s words in his mind.

I’ll be praying for God to bless you with a wonderful future.