Blessed Vows. Jillian Hart

affected. “Not running any farther than the freezer. Why don’t you help yourself to the remote? I don’t mean to be a bad hostess, I’m just digging stuff out for supper.”

      “Suppose I help you with that?” His steps sounded behind her on the stairs.

      “Oh, I can get things just fine.” Actually, what she needed was someone who was tall enough to reach all the way to the bottom of the freezer. Was she going to admit that to him? No. “I’ll be right up, okay?”

      No answer was forthcoming, although the approaching rasp of sneakers on the cement floor trailed her to the freezer room. Rachel yanked on the light.

      And there he was, he’d caught up to her, and let out a breath of awe. “Wow. Did you do all this canning?”

      “My sisters lent a hand.” She supposed the floor-to-ceiling shelving and all the jars sitting on them did look impressive. “We like to can.”

      “I’ll say.”

      “It’s something our mom used to do. She’d get all of us to help her, even Amy when she was just a preschooler. We’d all peel and cook and fill jars.” She reached to open the freezer lid, but his hand was already there, lifting the lid and exposing the icy contents to the glare of the light.

      That’s how she felt, illuminated in the deep reaches of her self. How could talking about the preserving jars on the shelf do that? Simple, she realized. “It was everything good in our childhoods. Maybe that sounds corny, but the memories are good ones. The kind that really matter.”

      “That make you who you are?”

      His comment surprised her, this tough commando who had lobbed a rock like a grenade in the driveway as if at war. He was understanding, and she decided she liked him even more. “When my sisters and I do our yearly frenzy of making jams and canning, it always brings us back, makes us part again of that time in our childhoods when Mom was alive and her warm laughter seemed to bounce around the kitchen like sunbeams.”

      Sometimes it hurt to remember, but it hurt even more to forget. And so she remembered. “When Dad would come home with packed meals from the diner because he knew Mom would have been so caught up she’d have forgotten the time. The whole house would smell like the strawberry jelly simmering on the stove, or the bushels of fresh peaches we’d have spent all day sitting around the table slicing.”

      “Ben said you lost your folks when you were young.”

      “It was like the sun going out one day.” And that was the part of remembering that hurt most, like a spear through the heart. “But Paige was just sixteen then and she took care of us.”

      “You were alone?”

      “We didn’t want to be split up, and no one could take on the four of us.” Well, the spear remained lodged in her heart and the past was just going to keep hurting if she kept talking about it. She turned her attention—and the conversation—to the freezer. “You wouldn’t want to reach down with those long arms of yours and dig around for a roast, would you?”

      “A roast. Why, ma’am, I’d do nearly anything for a good roast. We don’t get those much in the deserts where I’ve been spending my time.” He leaned down as if to thrust his arm deep into the frosty mists, but stopped in mid-plunge. “I can’t believe this. You have my absolute favorite fish sticks. I mean, these are the best.”

      “I love those, too. They’re the best with the tartar we make at the diner. I’ve got a jar—”

      “Forget the roast. Let’s whip up a cookie sheet of these, bake up some Tater Tots and I’ll be happy as a— Oh boy, you’ve got real apple pie in here.”

      “Homemade. If you want—”

      “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He loaded up with the pie and the fish sticks before closing the lid. “You really don’t mind?”

      “Are you kidding? I’ve been on my feet all day. Tell you what, how long are you staying in town tomorrow?”

      “Uh… Don’t know. We’re on a standby flight back to LA. I’ve got the last of the estate stuff to settle, it’s a long process.” The look on his face, one of grief, one of bewilderment kept her from turning off the light.

      Estate stuff? Rachel’s stomach twisted. Before she could ask, Jake reached up and snapped off the light, leaving them in shadows. “Sally’s mom died—my sister. Hit by a bus on the way to work one morning.”

      No. That poor little girl. Rachel’s heart wrung in sympathy. She knew just what that felt like for a child to lose a mother. “And her father?”

      “Nonexistent. Ran off long ago and never wanted to be responsible. No one can even find him now. That’s why I have her.” He took off abruptly, speaking over his shoulder, sounding normal but his movements looked jerky and tense in the half-light drifting down the staircase. “That’s why she’s with me. If I hadn’t taken her when I arrived home, then she would have had to stay in foster care while I came here. And she asked me not to leave her. So I didn’t.”

      “I’m glad you brought her.” Well, that was about the saddest thing she’d heard in a long time. “How long was she alone while you were in the desert?”

      “Nearly seven weeks. That’s a long time.”

      “Too long.” Rachel’s quiet agreement said everything.

      I wish I could have gotten to her sooner. There was no getting around that fact. Or the logistical problems of hunting him down in the middle of a covert deployment and getting him back to the States again.

      Jake felt the weight of impossible guilt, dragging him downward. He’d done all he could, but it didn’t change the fact that Sally had been left alone to grieve in a stranger’s home, under a stranger’s care, and she wasn’t the same little girl he remembered. It was as if something essentially her had died too, of sorrow. How was he going to fix it for her? He didn’t have a single answer.

      Maybe the Lord would give him one, since he was all out of ideas. All out of everything.

      “I’ll do what I can to make sure she has some fun,” Rachel said.

      So much understanding lit her voice, and it struck Jake like a bullet to the heart. He hadn’t registered his worries about bringing Sally—about everything. He didn’t want to go there. He would handle it, things would work out. He was Special Forces trained to assess, adapt and overcome. He’d succeeded at every training exercise, every task and every mission. But a child was not a mission.

      He headed up the stairs, box in hand, not sure if he could look Rachel in the eye. “I figured that since Ben had a nephew about Sally’s age, she might not be too out of place.”

      “Oh, of course not. I happen to be in charge of the kids’ activities. You know, receptions are so boring for the little people. All that sitting still and vows and kisses and then the manners at the sit-down meal. So we’re going to have our own party outside. I’ll take good care of Sally for you. I’m sure you and Ben will want to hang out for a while at the reception.”

      Jake nearly missed the last step up. “I hadn’t thought about pawning her off on anyone. That wasn’t what I meant—”

      “I know. But I was simply informing you of our plans. If you want her to be with the other kids, we’re going to have a lot of fun.” Rachel shut the door and followed him to the counter where he’d dropped off the fish box. “We’ll have games and races and our own cake. We’re having hot dogs and burgers. It’s going to be such a blast, I can’t wait.”

      Ben was right. His sister Rachel was the nicest person ever. And she didn’t seem to know it, didn’t seem aware that she was as incredibly beautiful on the outside as she was on the inside. Her loveliness shone outward like sunlight through clouds, and it dazzled.

      He had to turn away, blinking hard, affected and he didn’t know why. He was used to keeping his feelings