Rescue Team (29 page)

“U
H . . . THANKS,”
Wes managed as Kate shooed her father back down the porch, then led him into the living room. He’d blame his suddenly weak legs on the cramped flight from Texas, but it was relief, plain and simple. And deep gratitude. The last time they’d been together, Kate had sent him out the door; this was a second chance. It felt more important than anything he’d known. If only he could somehow unscramble his brain, find the words he’d come to say.
Please, Lord . . .

“Thank you,” he repeated as she settled into a corner of the pillow-back couch, leaving him more room than he needed. Or wanted. His gaze did a quick sweep of the room, taking in the packing boxes, a paint tray, and stripped-bare walls, all at odds with a mantel packed like an overbooked jetliner with framed family photos. Evidence of a man holding tight to what was important; Wes understood that, absolutely.

“I can’t believe you came all this way.” Kate’s voice was soft. She’d pulled a pillow into her lap, fingers kneading the plush fabric. She looked exhausted, bruised. Still beautiful but different somehow. Her dark eyes held his. “How did you know I was here?”

“Lauren. At least she told me you’d gone to see your dad. She didn’t have the address, but I knew it was Sunnyvale.” He wished his heartbeat would stop hammering the side of his neck. “I remembered you saying it was Happy Hollow Lane. Followed a map. It’s a small cul-de-sac, and I’d seen your father’s car in Texas, so . . .” He shrugged, attempted a smile. “I find people; it’s what I do.”

“Yes. It is.” Kate’s fingers plucked at the pillow, her expression still so unreadable. She glanced toward the kitchen. “I could get some tea. Or water or—”

“No,” he interrupted, despite the fact that his mouth had never been drier. “Don’t get up—don’t go. I came out here because I need to talk to you, Kate.” He cleared his throat. “I hate the way we left things between us—I mean, the way I left it. I hate that I left at all that day. I know you asked me to, but I shouldn’t have gone.”

Compassion he didn’t deserve filled her eyes. “I’m sure it was hard to hear what I told you.”

“Not nearly as hard as it was for you, Kate. Awful when it happened and all these years since. Then these past weeks, with the Baby Doe incident at the hospital. And now Harley. And Sunni . . .”

Kate said nothing, but her eyes shimmered with tears.

“On top of that,” he continued, “you get saddled with a jerk who spouts off about having faith but still can’t get a grip on forgiveness. As if people’s decisions . . . mistakes . . . can be looked at like an engineering plan. Black-and-white, good and bad. Or—” Wes swallowed—“as if they can even be fully understood by anyone but God himself.”

Kate nodded. And there it was again, the sense that something was different about her. Peaceful somehow.

“I’m ashamed,” he told her. “I’ve had things wrong for so long.”

“Are you talking about your mother?”

He nodded. “After you left, I spoke with my dad, finally talked with him about that night. He said . . .” Wes cleared his throat. “He said he spent a lot of years being confused and angry. But now he remembers the good things. He said good memories are God’s mercy, that they give us hope. And not having hope is ‘the worst kind of lost.’”

-  +  -

Kate swallowed hard, feeling Wes’s pain—his discovery—as deeply as her own. “Your father’s right. I’ve been running away all these years, trying to find something I knew was missing. But I carried all my mistakes with me, telling myself I didn’t deserve real happiness.” She summoned a grim smile. “Bad road. No map.”

He smiled back at her, the understanding in his blue eyes making her heart ache.

“Last night,” she continued, “I ended up in a hotel room in Dallas. I had no idea where I was going from there. I’d never felt so alone in my life. And then I saw Sunni Sprague’s parents on the news this morning. You could feel their heartbreak. But Sunni’s mother said something about . . .
me
.” Kate shook her head, feeling goose bumps rise. “She said they believe my finding Sunni was God’s plan. It stunned me. I switched off the TV and sat there for the longest time. Thinking about everything that’s happened. All of it. I told myself it could have been my father on the news. My bones instead of Sunni’s.”

Somehow Wes had taken hold of her hand. His warmth spread through her.

Kate cleared her throat. “I thought about Ava Smith and Trista, your mother . . . and me. And then I knew—felt it so deeply—that we’d all done those tragic things out of desperation. Bad mistakes, but not bad people. I thought about what you told me about grace.” She felt a tear slide down her face, though she’d begun to smile. “So I closed my eyes and I prayed, Wes. This woman who stuffed a cross in her closet, talking with God. Can you imagine?”

He nodded, tears in his eyes, and drew her hand to his chest. “And you came home,” he said, his voice husky and low. “To talk with your father about what happened to you.” Pain flickered across his face. “I’m so sorry that you were hurt like that. I’m sorry I did all the wrong things when you had the courage to tell me. I should have been there—”

“Shhh.” She pressed her fingers to his lips. “You’re here now.”

“I want to be,” he said, his expression raw and vulnerable. “Not just for now. I want us to have a chance at a lot more. I want you with me, Kate.”

She smiled. “I sort of guessed that. Tracking me down. Jumping on a jet . . . Taking that risk with the security checkpoint.”

“Huh?”

“That UT belt buckle.” She laughed. “Big belt buckles, big trucks, tortilla chips shaped like your state. Texans! Why I’d want to live there . . .”

“But you do.” He nestled her face against his palm, his thumb stroking her cheek. “You’re coming back.”

She tipped her head, snuggling into his touch. “I have to—I left my car at the Dallas–Fort Worth airport.”

His lips brushed her bruised cheek very gently. “And . . . ?”

“And I promised to go to bat for my triage nurse.”

He groaned, his lips on her forehead. “And . . . ?”

She smiled, warmth flooding through her. “And I want to be with you, Wes.”

“There . . .” Wes leaned back, still cradling her face in his hands. “Now there’s my brown-eyed girl.”

“Yes.”

He bent low to brush her lips lightly with his. Then grabbed the pillow from her lap and tossed it to the floor. “Better.” He tucked his fingers under her chin and kissed her more thoroughly.

“Much better.” Kate wound her arms around his neck, returning his kiss.

His arms moved around her, careful of her ribs but bringing her closer. Closer still, until she could feel his heart beating against her. His strong arms held her securely there. As if he was thinking just what she was: that it was a flat-out miracle they’d found each other, and they weren’t ever letting go.

-  +  -

Matt smiled at the young couple on his old couch. He’d returned from his meeting to find Kate rosy cheeked and chattering, her eyes filled with something that looked every bit like love—even if she didn’t know it yet. And Wes, though respectful as always, couldn’t take his eyes off Kate. It seemed like only yesterday Matt had felt that new and hopeful in his life with Juliana. He envied them a little bit, but his gratitude overshadowed it by far.

“So,” he said with all the seriousness he could muster, “you’re saying you don’t think a Chinese Thanksgiving is such a great idea? We could go Mexican . . .”

“Uh . . .” Wes looked at Kate.

Her eyes shone. “We were thinking more along the lines of hickory-smoked turkey, corn-bread stuffing, mashed potatoes, pecan pie, sweet tea . . .”

“Ah.” A lump rose in Matt’s throat, though he wasn’t at all surprised. She was leaving him already. “Let me guess. At a wooden table under a big tree and a Texas sunset?”

“Yes, sir.” Wes slid his arm around Kate’s shoulders. “Is that all right? We checked the flights and it’s doable.”

“Of course.” Matt nodded.

“Thanks, Daddy. Then there’s only one other thing we need to know.” Kate nudged Wes with an elbow.

“Right,” he agreed. “What size jersey do you wear, Matt?”

“Jersey?”

“Football.” Kate rose from the couch, walked over to where Matt stood. She blinked up at him, eyes teasing. “Team Tanner. There’s always a game on Thanksgiving Day. You’re invited.”

“I . . .” Matt glanced around his living room full of half-packed boxes, remembering the feeling of linking hands at that table in Austin. The next job interview wasn’t for another week. “Great—terrific.” He grinned, warmth spreading through him. “I accept.”

Wes strode forward and offered his hand to seal the deal.

“Thank you,” Matt told him, responding in kind to the firm handshake. “I appreciate your including me. It’s been a while since I shared a turkey dinner with my daughter. And I have a lot to be thankful for this year.”

-  +  -

“We all do,” Kate said, leaning against her father. She glanced between the two men, not sure her heart would hold the sudden rush of feelings. Then she winked at Wes. “Should we break it to him?”

“What?” Her father feigned a wary glance.

“The seating arrangement.” A slow grin spread across Wes’s face. “You’ll be sitting next to Nancy Rae.”

“Nancy?” Matt raised a suspicious brow. “Eligible widow, I suppose.”

Kate bit into her lip, a spasm of laughter bringing tears to her eyes.

“What?” her father asked again. “Tell a man before he straps himself into a plane.”

“C’mon.” Kate pointed toward the kitchen. “If there was ever a Chunky Monkey moment, this is it.” She took hold of her father’s hand. “Just remember that no matter what, I do love you, Daddy.”

“That’s good to know,” he told her, giving her fingers a squeeze. “I’ve got plenty of ice cream, but I’m not sure about the bowls and spoons.”

“I’m not worried.” She smiled at Wes. “I think we have all the right stuff.”

MAY

“You’re not interrupting. The party’s winding down.” Kate ducked under a pecan branch while holding the phone to her ear. The Tanners’ resident squirrel chattered somewhere above, adding his voice to a medley of laughter and distant strains of Taylor Swift. With the temperature in the high eighties and the trees in bloom, the air was as humid and fragrant as a greenhouse. “Although as long as there’s still cake, Dylan won’t be calling it quits.”

Lauren laughed. “I love it that Miranda threw an adoption party. Harley must be holding court like a princess.”

“Wait till you see the photos. Her little sundress matches Molly’s—hot-pink roses on robin’s egg blue, ordered from Lilly Pulitzer. They both have pom-pom sandals. And the cake frosting is done in the same colors.”

“Grammy Judith. No one would doubt she’d throw herself into that project. Heart and soul.” Lauren’s tongue clucked. “The same way you’ve been making things happen at Austin Grace. I saw the
article in the
Statesman
about Sunni’s memorial nursing scholarship. I know you got that ball rolling."

“It was a team effort. And now that the FBI has connected her murder to that medical-supply salesman they arrested in Atlanta . . .”

“It’s like a sad chapter is finally closing,” Lauren finished. “For you, too, Kate. Working on the new educational workshops for Safe Haven providers—that has to feel so good.” The compassion in her voice wrapped Kate like a hug.

“It does,” Kate agreed, grateful again she was no longer hiding from her own painful past. “I’m going to do everything I can to protect babies. And to keep women from making tragic mistakes that will destroy their own lives as well.” She sighed. “Ava Smith is out there somewhere. And even if she knows the autopsy report showed her son died before birth, she won’t believe she’s worthy of forgiveness for abandoning him. If sharing my story helps someone like her, I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Amen, my friend. I know you will. There are such good folks willing to offer foster care and adoption.”

“Yes.” Kate’s gaze returned to Harley in Molly’s arms. A few yards away, a beaming Judith was busy snapping photos of her daughter and new granddaughter. Miranda Tanner stood next to them. She slid her arm around Dylan’s shoulders as he teased a giggle from the baby, a dab of blue frosting on his chin.

Grateful warmth flooded through Kate; these days when she thought of her son, she imagined him in a loving scene exactly like this one. Though Wes had offered to help her search for him—and though she yearned to finally know her son—Kate couldn’t bear the possibility that her sudden appearance might cause him even a moment of painful confusion and turmoil. Because of that, she’d put the generous offer on hold for now. She also had a deep and
peaceful sense that she shouldn’t rush, that she should wait—trust God with this, too. Something told Kate that perhaps one day her lost but dearly loved son would find her.

“Well, it sounds like you’ve had a great day,” Lauren told her. “I wish I could have been there. But Houston Grace ER has me in new-employee chains; thank heaven they come in colors that coordinate with my scrubs.”

Once again Kate sensed undercurrents of trouble Lauren had yet to confide. Being closer to her sister had helped on some levels, but the complications were taking a toll. “I really miss you, Lauren.”

“Sure . . .” Her friend chuckled. “Like you have time. With two men clamoring for your attention now, and—Oh, rats. Have to run. The triage light’s flashing and I’m on the hot seat today. Love you, girl!”

“Love you back.” Kate disconnected and turned to see Miranda walking up. Her auburn hair was piled high on her head, her face flushed and dewy in the humidity.

“I brought you tea.” She handed Kate a glass mounded high with ice.

“Thank you.” She caught the wistful expression on the woman’s face. “It must be hard to let Harley go after all these months.”

“I won’t pretend it isn’t.” Miranda’s gaze drifted toward the guests. “But I’m happy she’s found such a wonderful family.” She shook her head slowly. “That first day she came to us, I remember talking to Wes and telling him how—even after what had happened with Harley’s birth mother—I was relieved to know God has a plan.”

“Yes.” Kate was sure of that now.

“Right now
my
plan is to help Molly and Judith gather up
Harley’s gifts.” Miranda glanced toward the barn. “Do me a favor and go check on those men down in the drilling shop. I told them to grab some sandwiches—man cannot live on cake alone—but when you get two engineers brainstorming . . .”

“Two men clamoring for your attention . . .”
Kate smiled. “Dad’s so happy about working with the business. And living in Austin and—”

“About finding Judith?” Miranda asked, her eyes teasing. “The way things have been going, I expect to see two new sets of initials carved into the side of that barn—remind me to hide my kitchen knives. On the other hand, it does lend itself nicely to the possibilities of seeing Harley a lot more often, her new grandmother having developed such a keen interest in well drilling.”

Kate’s smile widened.

Miranda’s brows rows. “Speaking of plans, Wes said something about you and him taking the horses out this evening. On some kind of search?”

“Well . . .” Kate laughed, her stomach shivering the same way it always did when she thought of him. “It’s not an official search. He knows I have this thing about fireflies.”

“They’ll be there.” Miranda gave a quick nod.

“You sound sure—part of that ‘plan’?”

Miranda laughed. “More equal parts Texas heat and humidity. Paul and I spotted a few from the porch last night right around dusk. There should be more down closer to the creek; Wes will know.” She gave Kate a quick hug and headed back toward the other guests.

“Wes will know.”
Kate didn’t doubt it for a moment. He’d known where to find her when she ran to California. And in these last months he’d awakened her heart, helped her heal and trust
again. And nurtured a blossoming faith that would sustain Kate for the rest of her life.

She smiled, remembering the first time she’d come to this beautiful ranch, that day she’d brought her father for the search-and-rescue demonstration. And how Dylan had asked her if she was “hiding or searching.” She hadn’t known how to answer. But she did now: she’d been hiding, absolutely—from family, from love, and from God. What a search it had turned out to be. And oh, how very much she’d found. Fireflies could never compare.

-  +  -

“Down there.” Wes pointed toward the creek, thinking he’d rather keep watching Kate’s eyes. Far more beautiful than lightning bugs any day. He settled close to her on the blanket he’d spread on the grass. “The sun’s dropping behind the hills, and they like the water. We’ll see them in the cedar along the creek. It won’t be long now.” He draped an arm across her shoulder, felt the kitten-soft brush of her hair against his bare arm. Wes stifled a chuckle at the thought that he’d ever considered this woman prickly.

“What’s funny?” Kate asked, peering up at him in the near darkness. “You’re laughing.”

“Not really.” He bent down, pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Just happy.”

“To see fireflies?”

“To see them with you.”
And because . . .
Wes realized that he was nervous. After all his care and planning—his absolute certainty—he was flat-out nervous.

The horses snuffled in the distance, tied to a tree and nibbling at the grass.

“I can’t believe you brought your rescue pack,” Kate said, glancing
to where it sat beside him. “It’s not like you haven’t mapped every inch of this property.”

“You never know.” He smiled in the darkness.

“And it’s good to have all the right stuff.”

He bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Absolutely.”

She gasped, hunching forward. “I think I see—Oh, Wes. There!”

“Where?” he asked, mesmerized by the childlike delight on her face.

She snorted. “Not in my hair—look where I’m pointing. See? They’re so pretty. Oh, I’ll never get used to that! Do you see them?”

“I see,” he said, wrapping both arms around her, inhaling her scent.
I see you.

They were quiet for a few minutes, watching the tiny light displays arcing and dancing along the creek bed like embers launched skyward from a campfire. He thought about what he’d come here to do. Hoped he had it right.

“They’re pretty interesting insects,” he murmured against Kate’s hair. “Want to know what makes them—”

“No!” Kate blurted, aghast. “Don’t go all engineer on me. Please. I want them to stay magical. I don’t want to know how they blink.”

He laughed. “Then do you want to know
why
? Why they light up like that?” Wes smiled as her wary gaze met his. This fit right into his plan. “They’re searching . . . for love.”

“Love?” She grinned. “Thank you. I’m sure as a science guy that was tough.”

“Not as tough as you’d think,” he said, the nervousness coming back. Wes reached for his pack. “Here,” he said, digging around in it. “Put this on.”

“What is it?”

“A headlamp.” He donned his own and switched on the beam, saw her blink. “Your turn.” He tipped the light away but still saw the look on her face that said he was crazy. “Please. I want to show you something.”

“Okay. I’m humoring you,” she said, adjusting it over her hair. “But if we’re here to see fireflies, adding light seems more than a little at odds with the search.”

“I’m glad you said that.”

“What?”

“‘Search.’ Because we are—you are, anyway.” He fumbled with the pack again. Found what he was looking for, his heart in his throat. “Turn on your light.”

She did, blinding him. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Okay now,” he said. “I’ll show you how to use this. Point your nose where you want to see. Here.” He gestured. “Spot that tree.”

She turned her head. The live oak lit.

“Good job. Now that boulder over there.”

The granite shone, Kate’s aim hitting it with accuracy.

“The horses . . .”

Clementine’s eyes blinked back at them.

“You’re a natural.” Wes smiled, his fingers busy with their covert task.

“I still don’t see why we’re doing this,” Kate said, shaking her head and causing the beam to bounce like a silent movie. “Unless we’re trying to look like a couple of demented fireflies ourselves. So why don’t we—”

“Now,” he instructed, “look here.”

“Where?”

“At my hands.”

“Wes, really . . .” Kate’s beam hopscotched across the blanket, found the knees of his jeans, his shirt, and—

She gasped. “Oh, what . . . Wes!”

“Like it?”

The brilliant round-cut diamond glittered in the light.

“Oh . . .” Kate picked up the velvet box. “It’s so . . .” She stared at him, eyes wide.

“Here.” He pulled off his headlamp, reached for hers. Not before he saw tears and then the smile that said they were from happiness. His heart thudded. He left one of the lights glowing atop his pack, just enough to see her.

“I love you, Kate,” he said, cupping her sweet face in his hands. “Remember a long time ago, not long after we met, when I told you I thought there was a reason we found each other?”

She nodded, the tears spilling over her dark lashes.

“It was true. I’ve been searching for you all my life. And I don’t ever want to lose what we’ve found. Say you’ll marry me. Please, Kate. Be my wife.”

“I . . .” She nodded, cleared her throat, nodded again. “Yes, yes!” She flung her arms around him, one hand still clutching the ring box. “I love you so much. I do—so much.”

Then he was kissing her. The side of her neck, her tear-dampened cheek, her eyes, a corner of her lips. And then her mouth. Tenderly and very, very thoroughly.

When they finally broke away, they started to laugh. Howled at his corny ring search, his suggestion of Nancy Rae serving as maid of honor alongside his best man, Gabe, and then Kate’s comeback that Hershey would be ring bearer. He parried with a suggestion that Roady man the guest book. Kate giggled that her father should play air guitar for the reception—and then Wes admitted
that he’d asked Matt’s permission to propose. She stopped laughing, happy tears welling again, and told him she loved him even more for that.

Wes slipped the engagement ring on Kate’s finger. And they simply sat there, holding each other in the languid silence of a warm Texas night.

The fireflies blinked, looped, and zigzagged. Then, one by one, finally disappeared. The way Wes’s love for this amazing woman never would. He knew that without a doubt. The same way he knew that, despite the odds, it was Kate who’d done the rescuing after all.

Thank you, Lord, for planning it that way.