Return to Lone Oak (Harlequin Heartwarming) (6 page)

And yet here she was, restraining herself from the urge to touch him. Bizarre.

“I told you earlier, my actions in the Congo weren’t heroic.”

“Right.” She leaned forward, hugging her legs and paying close attention.

“That wasn’t just me being modest. My actions were
not
heroic.” He swallowed hard, trying to keep talking calmly, without allowing the images to infiltrate his brain and shut him down.

“Can you tell me about it?” Katie asked gently.

Noah looked around nervously. “This isn’t the time or the place. It’s...not easy for me to talk about.”

“Okay.” Her curiosity was piqued, but something told her not to press too hard. “Will you tell me another time? I’d like to understand.”

Just then her dad opened the back door. “Noah, my wife’s got an oven full of brisket. Why don’t you join us?”

“I was about to leave,” he said, standing and walking toward the older man. “It’s a kind offer, but I don’t want to intrude on your family time.”

“That’s a bunch of baloney.”

Noah smiled tiredly at her dad. “Okay, I’ll get to the heart of the matter. My mom’s not the most understanding sort when I don’t show up for a meal at the last minute. I don’t want to suffer her wrath, as good as the offerings here smell.”

Her dad nodded. “Women. I understand. Gotta keep ’em happy or we’ll pay. Let’s do it some other time, when we can plan ahead.”

“That sounds like a deal.” Noah looked over at Katie. “You’re going to rest, right?” Clearly, family-physician mode was more comfortable for him.
Much
more comfortable than discussing his mission work.

“Whatever you say, Dr. Fletcher.”

“I’ll just see myself out here,” he told her father.

“Oh, come on in this way. I’ll see you out properly. No need to steal off into the evening out the back door.”

Noah shrugged and looked at Katie. “Good night. If you get worse, call the after-hours number.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, distracted. She was already trying to figure out a way to get him to talk to her later. Tonight, if possible.

CHAPTER FIVE

K
ATIE
HAD
A
PLAN
and it was time to act on it.

“I’m going for a drive,” she told her dad and Claudia, who were finishing dinner. “I need to get out of the house.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Wendell asked her. “You need to rest. Get better.”

“I’ve been resting all day, Dad. I’m going stir crazy. I won’t be out for long.”

She stood and took her empty plate to the sink.

“I’ve got homemade shortcake with fresh strawberries,” Claudia said.

Sugar wasn’t going to distract her tonight. Since Noah had left, she’d thought about nothing except him and his secret. She’d thought of so many possibilities that her head was spinning. She needed to get the real story, if for no other reason than her peace of mind. She’d never been good at blowing off curiosity. Maybe that was why she’d become a journalist.

“I might have some later—if there’s any left.” Katie headed upstairs to change clothes and freshen up a little. Lying around all day had made her feel sluggish.

She pulled on some denim shorts and an old tee that said Wild Child in faded letters. She brushed the bed-head tangles from her hair and pulled it up onto the back of her head, slipped on her favorite hot pink flip-flops and went out to her Jeep.

The park was mostly deserted, except for a mom and two little kids over on the swing set. And a rusting Tahoe in the parking lot. She vaguely remembered seeing it at the park the evening they’d jogged together.

The sun was low in the sky, so she shouldn’t have to wait long. She sat on a bench at one of the picnic tables close to the entrance to the path, watching the mother with her children. Several minutes later, the threesome wandered off, no doubt making their way home.

Katie was glad to have the park to herself sensing that Noah wouldn’t talk to her if anyone else was around. Even then, it likely wasn’t going to be easy to get his story out of him.

She settled herself on the bench, stretching out and looking up at the pattern of leaves against the sky. She felt better than she had earlier in the day, but she was still wiped out, low on energy.

Several minutes later, as the sky was beginning to grow dark, she heard someone approaching from the running path. She sat up, trying not to crane her neck, not wanting to look too eager.

The second he spotted her, he moved from a hard run to a slow, stretching walk.

“Hey,” he said as he exited the trail and came nearer to her table.

“You aren’t actually out of breath, are you?” she teased.

“A bit. Pushed hard tonight.” He stopped in front of her bench, hands on his thighs, bending over slightly. Then he sat down on the bench next to her.

They remained silent for a couple of minutes while he recuperated.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I
am
resting. I was lying down until I heard you coming.” She turned sideways, swinging one leg over the bench so that she straddled it.

“Feeling better?”

“Much. Just worn out. I think I could sleep for a week.”

“Maybe you should.” He leaned back against the picnic table, resting his elbows behind him. “You didn’t answer. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you some more.”

He gave her a guarded look but didn’t say anything.

“I’d like to know more about what happened. Not so I can call a reporter or anything like that. I’m just interested. I can tell it was traumatic.”

“Traumatic. Yes, it was definitely that.” He avoided looking at her, avoided talking, as he paid rapt attention to the world around them. He watched a robin hop along the grass, hunting for its dinner. When the bird flew away, he switched his attention to an ant crawling on the bench between them. He held his finger there and let the ant crawl onto his hand, turning it this way and that so the insect was always visible.

“Will you tell me about it?” she asked, her patience already challenged.

“Why do you care?”

“That’s a good question. One I don’t really have an answer to, other than to say that I can see it weighs on you. Every day. For some reason, you truly believe that saving a child’s life wasn’t heroic. And I’m skeptical that you can convince me of that.”

“Why does it matter whether it was heroic or not? What’s done is done. I’m not looking for praise or comfort or commiseration. I just want to forget about it all.”

“Maybe telling me about it would be a step in that direction.”

“Or maybe it would bring it all back, as if it just happened yesterday.” He flicked the ant lightly off his hand and onto the ground. “It isn’t easy for me to talk about. To anyone.”

Katie remained quiet for a beat, restraining herself. She didn’t understand why it seemed so important to know the story. She just knew it was important.

“I’d like to know,” she said quietly, honestly. She didn’t allow herself to think about whether this was wise or not.

Noah closed his eyes. He did want to convince her of a few things, mostly to protect himself. He wanted her to understand that his actions hadn’t been heroic. Then maybe she would drop the whole thing.

“If I tell you, will you promise to give up the gung ho reporter thing?”

She studied him, her head tilted to the side, and slowly nodded. “I won’t tip off a reporter, but I might still try to convince you to talk to one.”

He could handle that. She’d never convince him to go public with his story, even if she tried until she turned blue in the face.

Noah sucked in air as if this were his last chance to breathe. Tension pulled at every muscle in his body. The positive effects of his run had long since disappeared. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I was in a pretty dangerous area with the lead physician one day.” He couldn’t tell her why they’d been there or what their purpose had been without revealing more than he wanted to. “He and I ran into a group of rebels who didn’t want us hanging around, so we split up, trying to get away without getting hurt. I came upon a young girl, lying by the side of the road, weak, not moving. What little clothing she had was tattered. She’d been beaten badly.

“At first I thought she was dead, but when I touched her to check for a pulse she stirred. I forgot everything else. I just had to get her back to the medical camp, where we could try to help her.”

Noah covered his face with his hands. “The rebels had guns. Grenades. Knives.”

“You were unarmed?” Katie asked.

He nodded. “Corps policy.” He closed his eyes. “I couldn’t see them, but I knew they were still watching me, daring me to help her. Using her as bait. I walked down the road away from her and waited, keeping an eye on her from behind a rock. When I thought I’d outwaited them, I snuck back. There was no cover where she lay, so I had to move quickly.”

He stopped for a moment to compose himself. “I was afraid she’d die before I could do anything. Selfishly, I didn’t want that on my conscience. Didn’t want to have the memory of her, alone, dying slowly because I was incapable of helping her.

“So I picked her up, praying her spine was okay, since I couldn’t check before moving her. She was semiconscious and her pulse was weak. She weighed almost nothing. I remember thinking that.
She’s so light. I won’t have any trouble getting her back to camp.

“I was almost out of range when they opened fire.”

“You were hit,” Katie said in a quiet voice, barely keeping a lid on her own emotions.

“My right thigh. I didn’t realize it right away. The pain was so bad it went numb. Then it burned. As if it was on fire.”

“What did you do?” She moved closer on the bench.

“The only thing I could do. Kept going. I thought if I stopped, I’d be shot and killed. I was scared out of my mind.” He sat up straighter, leaning back against the table again and clenching his jaw. “So you see, no bravery involved. No heroism. It was simply fear that motivated me. Fear for myself. Cowardice, really.”

She shook her head. “Fear, yes. Cowardice? I don’t think so.”

“I’ve never been in so much pain in my life.” And that didn’t even begin to describe the emotional horror from earlier in the day.

“How far was it back to camp?”

“A mile, give or take. It could’ve been a lot worse.”

He stared in front of him, remembering the day clearly, reliving it. “When I got back, when that photo was taken, I was so out of it that I barely knew my name. Two of my colleagues rushed to take care of the child. I remember that. Remember being thankful she was no longer my responsibility, because I couldn’t do a thing for her.”

“You’d already saved her life.”

“They didn’t realize I was injured at first. My mouth was so dry I couldn’t speak. Then someone saw the blood. Things got blurry after that.”

Katie moved closer still. She took one of his hands in hers, resting them on his leg. “If you’re trying to prove to me you’re not a hero, you’ve failed.” She smiled sadly. “What you did... That was the best example of a hero I’ve ever heard.”

He shook his head, ready to argue, but she held up her hand.

“Listen to me, Noah. You were scared out of your wits. You said it yourself. But what did you do? You risked your life to make sure that girl didn’t lose hers. You did it because you felt you had to.”

“I did have to.”

“Not everyone would feel that way.”

“Could you have left her lying there?”

“I don’t know what I’d have done. I’m not so sure I wouldn’t have just run for dear life.”

“Don’t look at me like that.” He broke eye contact, focusing instead on their hands. He absently caressed hers with his thumb, thinking nothing of the intimate gesture.

“Like what?”

“Like you think you’re right and I’m wrong. I’m not a hero, Katie. It doesn’t matter what you say.”

“Heroism isn’t based on whether you’re scared, Noah. You don’t have to set out to be a hero. It’s all about how you react in the heat of the moment. You do what comes instinctively, without ever thinking, ‘Gotta do something heroic here.’” She paused. “You passed the test. A lot of people wouldn’t have.”

He stood, uncomfortable with her words. He realized now, the only way he could convince her how wrong she was would be to tell her the rest—what had happened to Leah just before he’d found the child. And he wasn’t about to do that.

He’d set out to shut her down, but now she’d twisted things and was more certain than ever that he deserved some kind of award. The thought made him queasy, because it was so far from the truth. “I should go. It’s getting late and you need to go home and go to bed.”

“
Now
you’re being a coward,” Katie said with a half grin.

“Look, I haven’t told many people that story at all.” He straddled the bench, too, facing her. “It probably sounds strange, but I don’t like people to know what happened. I don’t like to talk about it. Other things occurred that day that I can’t go into, but if you knew, you would change your mind about me.”

Katie studied him closely wondering what else might have happened. Maybe he’d tell her that, too, later. For now, though, she’d have to be satisfied. It was obvious he wasn’t in the habit of sharing anything about his African nightmare. “I’m not going to tell anyone any of what you said.”

“You’re not going to call the press, anyway? Or tip off your dad?”

“I said I wouldn’t. For all the many faults you think I have, breaking my word isn’t one of them.”

“Thank you.” He rose from the bench, clearly ill-at-ease. “I have to head out. Please go home and sleep some more.”

“Right behind you,” she said, not moving. Her mind was racing a hundred miles per hour, trying to process everything he’d said. “Noah...”

He stopped and turned toward her.

“Thank you for telling me.”

He stared at her for several seconds, then nodded once and headed for the parking lot. Slowly, shoulders sagging.

Katie watched him unlock the Tahoe and climb inside. Heard the engine start, saw him back out and waste no time getting out of there.

She was reeling from his revelations. Her imagination was in overdrive as she replayed the story he’d shared. There was no doubt about it, he
was
a hero.

She didn’t want to be impressed by anything he’d said, didn’t want to gain respect for him. They weren’t friends. They had nothing in common.

But she couldn’t help herself. She saw him differently now. Understood a little better why he was uptight and serious. She felt empathy for him—how could she not?

Begging him to talk had been a mistake, she realized. Despite her curiosity, she didn’t like knowing something that private about someone she didn’t know well. It made her uncomfortable.

The only thing worse would be if she let him in on something that was just as personal to her.

She rose, deciding to push Noah and his story from her mind and do her best to forget about all of it. It didn’t concern her, and he didn’t like her knowing, anyway.

They would both just pretend they’d never had this conversation.