Heaven's Touch

“What do we have here?” A young paramedic, probably around twenty by the looks of him, came up next to Ben and, with calm and knowledgeable eyes, surveyed the burned woman.

Ben filled him in quickly, so the medic could get to work. As he began to relax, he realized the fire trucks had parked and firemen were busy. The crowd had moved back to the curb, and more interested folks had gathered along the street to watch.

He was surprised to see such a peaceful scene, for he was used to patching up people with bullets flying around him. This was a piece of cake. And a happy ending all around, once the mother’s burns were healed. He was thankful she hadn’t been hurt worse.

But he wasn’t sure what to do about Cadence. She was still talking to the mom as the paramedics began their work. He backed away, turning to make way for the medical equipment and the gurney as more paramedics arrived.

Cadence was busy. And he didn’t want to talk to her. Maybe she hadn’t realized who he was, but if she did, she would not be glad to see him.

Frankly, he couldn’t blame her.

Failure was something he hated, and there was so much of it in his past. Add that pain to the way his leg was killing him and the heat blast from the fire that made his back sting like crazy. It was time to go.

That’s just what he did.

“Hey, wonder man, what about your burns?”

The question that came from behind him was spoken in a serene voice, as peaceful as a lazy summer’s day.

Cadence’s voice. The back of his neck prickled, as it did whenever he felt God at work in his life. The tingle shivered through his spine and into his soul.

She moved after him. “You’re on fire. Hold still, cowboy.”

She still hadn’t recognized him? He waited while she covered him with the charred remains of her stadium blanket. A few pats and the embers were out, and once again he was in Cadence’s debt. Maybe this time he was man enough to know what that meant.

“Are you hurt?” she asked without looking at his face. “Your shirt has a hole in it. You’ve got to be burned.”

“I’m okay.” He turned around and braced himself for the worst.

He watched her go from polite to wide-eyed surprise. So now she recognized him. He hadn’t been sure if she would. Not a lot of folks would these days.

Gone was the long hair of his rebellious youth, replaced by a military cut and discipline that had helped to give him an entirely new purpose to his life. When he’d known Cadence, he’d needed a purpose more than any teenaged boy wanted to admit.

Looking back wasn’t easy.

Nor was it easy to watch the surprise on Cadence’s lovely face turn to disdain. “Ben?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I should have known where there was trouble, you would be nearby.”

“Hey, I didn’t start the fire. Blame it on static electricity.”

“So it’s still that way, is it? Always the other guy’s fault?”

He fidgeted, definitely uncomfortable. She hadn’t forgotten, that was for plumb sure, and there was no friendliness in her shimmering eyes or welcoming smile on her soft lips as she folded up the blanket.

“Your shirt’s no longer smoking, so I guess you’ll make it. You’ll still be here to torment decent folks for some time to come.”

“The good Lord willing.” He cracked her his best grin, the one that seemed to have an effect on women, but she seemed impervious to it.

She didn’t blink. Her stiff demeanor didn’t relax. Her mouth didn’t so much as twitch into an answering smile.

“What are you, a doctor?” she asked, watching him with a jaded eye.

So she wasn’t glad to see him. Well, he’d known that’s how she would feel, and he wasn’t so glad to see her either. A doctor? No. He didn’t answer, because the last thing he wanted to talk about was his life.

What about her life? What fancy city boy had she married? What was she doing here, of all places? Guilt and regret weighed on him as he kept walking.

Some good soul had pulled his truck away from the reach of the fire—he’d left the keys in the ignition—but the driver’s side was looking a little singed. Great.

Well, he didn’t have the energy to get upset about it. Long ago he’d learned that disasters happened, and so he’d taken out full coverage on his insurance. Good thing, because it was a brand-new truck and had four thousand, nine hundred and, oh, about thirty miles on it the last time he’d looked.

“Are you going to have someone look at that back?” Cadence asked.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” He took another step and gritted his teeth. Wow, his leg was hurting worse. As if the heavyweight champion of the world had decided to take a whole lot of warm-up punches on his calf.

“Did you forget something, wonder man?”

Then it hit him. “My crutches.”

“I thought you might need them. That would explain the cast on your leg.” Cadence had known Ben McKaslin most of her growing-up years. This didn’t surprise her. “Don’t tell me it’s broken and you’re walking on it?”

“Walk on it? I hiked ten miles to an LZ, a landing zone, and didn’t bat an eye.”

Good try, but you’re not impressing me, cowboy. Cadence folded her arms across her chest and did her best to glare at him. He was using that charming grin of his, the one he figured could make even the angels forget his every transgression.

She, however, was immune. Immunity gained long ago.

He reached one big hand for the crutches she held. “Contrary to popular opinion, if a fracture isn’t too severe, you know, like a compound with the bone sticking through your skin, you can walk on it. Some of us are tough enough to fight bad guys, secure a perimeter and treat wounded with all sorts of ailments in spite of an injury or two.”

Some things never changed, and that was Ben McKaslin. The grown man in his thirties standing before her was essentially no different from the eighteen-year-old she remembered. The one with an attitude and an overly high opinion of himself. Was she surprised? Well, she shouldn’t be.

She thrust his crutches at him to keep him as far away from her as possible. “You need to have the paramedics look at your back.”

“I’m good to go.” He took the crutches from her, and his nearness snapped between them like static electricity.

Like the tiny spark that had ignited the gasoline fumes from the van’s gas tank, the result shocked her. And had her stepping away from what had to be danger. “Your shirt’s started to smolder again.”

“I’ve had worse.” He said it as if he walked through flames every day.

Ben McKaslin was everything dangerous in a man. He was too handsome, too charming, too everything. She’d made sure their fingers didn’t touch as she handed off the crutches. The sticks of aluminum clanked as he took them in one hand, leaning now on his good leg as if the injured one was only starting to pain him just a bit.

Just like old times. Only Ben could turn a stop for gas into a three-alarm blaze, and it was never his fault. Where there was smoke, there was Ben.

Although something had changed about him, but she couldn’t place what. Everyone knew he’d joined the military—and not a moment too soon, lots of folks had said. Maybe it had done him good. One could only hope. “They’ve got the flames out.”

“So I see.” He reached into his shorts pocket, leaning awkwardly on one crutch as he did it. Then he shook his head, scattering short shocks of thick dark hair. “The keys are in the truck, not my pocket. Habit.”