The Road to Reunion

Resisting an impulse to curse, Kyle pushed away from the window. “I’ve been working out and I’m sweaty. I’ll take a shower and then we’ll decide what to do.”

He didn’t give Molly a chance to respond. Making an effort to control his limp, he crossed the room toward the hallway. Maybe he’d feel more in control of this situation once he had showered and taken a few minutes to recover from the surprise of finding little Molly Walker all grown up on his doorstep.

It was just his luck that she had arrived right in the middle of a storm. As much as he wished he could send her on her way, he couldn’t allow her to head out in this weather. The steep, winding roads around here were tricky enough, but the risk of flash flooding was very real under these circumstances. He wished she hadn’t come, but since she had, it looked as though he was going to have to play reluctant host for a few hours.

At least, he hoped that was all it would take until the roads were safe again. Unfortunately, it was late afternoon, and wet asphalt in the dark wouldn’t exactly be ideal traveling conditions, either.

Though he was well aware that he was procrastinating, he took his time showering, shaving and dressing in a clean gray T-shirt and comfortably faded jeans. He even ran a comb through his wet hair—not because it mattered particularly how he looked, he assured himself. But being caught off guard had put him at a disadvantage earlier, and he wanted to regain the upper hand in this situation as quickly as possible.

Finally reassured that he looked presentable, he headed back down the hallway. He was having little success controlling his limp now. He had probably overdone the workout that afternoon. Had Molly not been here, he might have pulled out his cane for the rest of the evening, just to give the leg a rest. Needless to say, her presence meant that wasn’t going to happen.

Molly wasn’t in the living room. Since he knew she wasn’t in the back of the cabin, that left only the kitchen. But the kitchen, too, was unoccupied and he felt his stomach tighten with nerves. If she had tried to leave, driving down the mountain in this storm…

The back door was ajar. Muttering a curse, he moved toward it, jerked it open and stepped outside. Protected from the downpour by the overhang that shaded half the deck, Molly stood with her arms crossed, watching the rain sweeping over the cloud-draped mountains. Dark, heavy clouds hid the afternoon sun, turning the landscape into a gray, impressionist scene that seemed to fascinate her.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said, though he hadn’t realized until then that she’d heard him step out beside her.

He was tempted to agree with her. But because he was all too aware that he wouldn’t have been talking about the scenery, he scowled and motioned toward the door. “Go back inside. You’re so cold your lips are blue.”

He wasn’t exaggerating much. He could see the goose bumps on her arms, and the tip of her nose was pinkened by the damp, chilly air.

She gave him a look that told him she didn’t like being given orders now anymore than she had when she was a spunky kid. “I’m fine.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Maybe she felt as though she had made her point. Molly was only a few steps behind him when he walked into the kitchen. Kyle set the teakettle on a burner and pulled two mugs out of a cabinet. “I don’t drink caffeine, but I have several blends of herbal tea,” he said, waving a hand toward the assortment of boxes arranged for easy access. “Pick what you like.”

He tossed an orange spice tea bag into a mug for himself, then stood aside so Molly could make her own selection. She debated for what he considered to be an absurdly long time over the six selections available to her before finally choosing cinnamon apple. By that time, the kettle was whistling.

Kyle carried his steaming mug into the living room, leaving Molly to follow if she wanted. She did—and her next comment indicated she had been watching him more closely than he liked.

“What happened to you, Kyle? How were you injured?”

“A close encounter with a bomb in the Middle East,” he answered shortly. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

“How long has it been?”

“Eight months.” And three weeks, and four days. And counting.

“I’m sorry,” she offered quietly.

He shrugged with practiced nonchalance. “Don’t be. I was luckier than the three guys who were with me and didn’t make it back.”

It had taken him a while to come to that conclusion, and there were still days when he wondered if his friends had been the lucky ones. He had learned very soon after the attack to hide those feelings, which always drew far too much attention from the military shrinks.

“Is that why you don’t want to come to the party? Because you were hurt?”

“No.”

She seemed completely undaunted by his curt tone.

“Because if you’re worried that anyone there will think less of you or pity you or anything like that, that would just be silly.”

Kyle set his mug down with a thump and glowered at his uninvited guest. “Either you like living dangerously, or you’re totally oblivious when it comes to taking hints.”

Molly sighed and spread her free hand, cradling her tea mug in the other. “It’s the latter, I’m afraid. Shane always says it takes a two-by-four upside the head for me to recognize a hint. He jokes, of course, but he’s not exaggerating by much.”

“Then let me put it in short, simple words you’ll be sure to understand—I don’t want to talk about this.”

Molly blinked at him for a moment, then absolutely floored him by smiling broadly. “You sounded just like Daddy when he’s in one of his grumpy moods. Maybe he rubbed off on you more than you realize.”

Kyle was rendered almost speechless by that artless observation. Grown men had been known to pale when he had spoken to them the way he’d just snarled at Molly. And she just grinned and compared him to her daddy?

He wondered grimly how much longer it would be before the rain stopped and he could send her safely on her way.

The visit with Kyle was not going as well as Molly had hoped. She supposed she had been rather arrogant in thinking she could charm him into changing his mind about attending her party. She had thought a little friendly reminiscing, accompanied by a couple of soulful looks and maybe a few winsome smiles would accomplish exactly what she wanted.

That sort of thing always worked for Shane, she thought with a slight pout.

Amazingly enough, she didn’t think even Shane could get through to Kyle at this point. It was a shame, too. Molly suspected that Kyle was a lonely, unhappy man who was just too stubborn to admit he needed anyone else.

She glanced at her watch. It was just before 6:00 p.m. and still raining heavily. Deepening shadows blurred the corners of the room now as dark gray clouds obscured the skies outside. Kyle reached out to turn on a lamp on a table between the two recliners. “Are you hungry?”

She was, actually. She had stopped for a light lunch and a stretch break at just before noon, and she hadn’t had anything since. “I’m a little hungry.”

He put his hands on the arms of his chair and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll see what I’ve got.”

Maybe this was his way of apologizing for snapping at her—not that an apology was necessary, since she was the one who’d tried to push him into talking about something that he’d already said made him uncomfortable. “There’s no need to go to any trouble on my behalf.”

He shrugged and kept walking. “I’m hungry. I’m going to eat, anyway—you might as well have something, too.”

It was hardly a gracious invitation, but considering she had arrived unannounced and uninvited on his doorstep, she considered herself fortunate that he was being even somewhat tolerant of her presence. She followed him into the kitchen. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He opened the refrigerator door. “I can handle it.”

“I’m restless, Kyle. I’d like something useful to do to take my mind off the weather.”

He sighed gustily and tossed something onto the counter with a thump. “You can clean the lettuce and chop tomatoes and cucumbers for a salad. I’ve got a package of pasta and a jar of pesto sauce we can have with it.”

“That sounds good.”

With one of his characteristic shrugs, he said, “I eat a lot of prepackaged stuff. I’m not much of a cook.”

“Neither am I.” She stuck the lettuce under running water to wash it. “I’m sure you remember how Mom is about her kitchen. She loves to cook, and doesn’t like anyone underfoot when she’s busy. Since I was always happier outside with Dad and Shane anyway, I never did much cooking. A few years ago, Mom decided belatedly that I should learn how. Maybe she waited too late, but it was not a raving success. After eating a few of my meals, Dad and Shane begged me to go back out to the barns.”

She was babbling—but then Shane had always accused her of seeing silence as a vacuum begging to be filled.

Kyle didn’t chuckle in response to her story, nor did he pause in his dinner preparations. For a moment she wondered if he had been listening to her at all, but then he spoke. “Do you still live with your parents?”