North Country Hero

“I could help you,” she whispered. “If you want help.”

“I don’t.” Stop acting like a bear, Kyle. “Thank you but I’ll be fine, Sara.” He didn’t want her here, didn’t want her to see his ugliness. “Don’t worry about me.”

Her solemn gaze locked with his but she said nothing.

“How did you get here?” He clenched his jaw against a leg cramp then gulped another mouthful of coffee, hoping that would help clear his fuzzy head.

“Laurel. She had to stop in town before picking up the boys from the airport. I wanted to ask you something so I told her I’d walk over here from the post office.”

Kyle watched as Sara filled the kettle with water and switched it on. A moment later she’d found a basin under the sink and added a towel from the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Kyle demanded through gritted teeth as waves of pain rolled in. He’d refused to take any pain reliever last night, knowing he had to learn to manage it or risk becoming addicted. And he couldn’t afford that. He couldn’t afford to become dependent on anyone or anything.

“Hot water will ease your soreness.” Sara kept right on assembling things.

“Are you a nurse?” Kyle clamped his jaw together more tightly. Couldn’t she see he wanted to be alone?

“If I say yes, will you let me help you?” she asked in a soft tone.

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.” A flicker of a smile played with the corner of her lips but Sara kept right on working.

The woman had guts, Kyle admitted grudgingly as she added cold water to the basin, tossed in a handful of salt and set it on the floor in front of him. Because he craved relief, he didn’t object when she poured boiling water from the kettle into the basin. Steam billowed up as she knelt in front of him. She dunked the towel, thoroughly soaked it then wrung it out. A moment later she wrapped the steaming towel around his stump and held it there, her hands gentle but confident.

Kyle almost groaned before he flinched away. No one outside the hospital staff had ever touched that ruined, angry part of him.

“Is it too hot?” She waggled her fingers in the water and frowned. “It doesn’t feel too hot.”

Actually it felt a lot like a warm hug.

“Kyle?”

He studied the top of her caramel-toned head. Somehow Sara’s tender touch eased his yearning to be enveloped in his father’s arms, something he’d craved during his intensive rehab and the weeks of therapy that followed.

“Kyle?” His name rushed from her lips, urgent. “Is it okay?” Her eyes were wide with—fear?

Why would she be afraid?

“It’s fine,” he groaned.

Liar. It is light years better than fine.

“I’m glad.” A sweet smile lit up her entire face.

In the quietness of that moment Kyle couldn’t help but compare Sara’s response to the decimating reaction of the woman who’d claimed to love him. When she’d glimpsed his shattered limb in the veteran’s hospital she had turned away and raced out, never to return.

Clearly, as he’d noticed several times, Sara was made of stronger stuff. His curiosity about her rose.

But Kyle didn’t ask questions because the longer Sara’s calm gaze held his, the more his muscles relaxed. She rinsed the cloth three times, each time reapplying and holding it in place until it cooled. Finally the knot of pain untied and slid away. He sighed his relief.

“The water’s too cool now,” Sara murmured. “I could heat more?”

“No. Thank you.” Kyle felt half-bemused as he realized his whole body felt limp, as it had when he’d come out of the anesthetic after each of his surgeries. “Where did you learn to do that?” His curiosity about the strength in such a delicate-looking woman grew.

“My fos—brother used to get banged up. Hot saltwater cloths always helped him.”

Sara’s slight hesitation before she’d said brother and the way she stumbled over banged up intrigued Kyle. What story lay hidden beneath those few words?

“It’s a great remedy.” The way she’d knelt in front of him to care for him humbled Kyle. “Thank you,” he said, and meant it.

“You’re welcome.” She rose in one fluid motion and glanced at the pan of rolls she’d left sitting on the table.

His father’s favorite line from Milton’s Paradise Lost flickered through Kyle’s mind. “Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eyes, in every gesture dignity and love.” He’d never known anyone but his mom who’d so perfectly fit the description.

Until now.

“I’ll just slip these buns into the oven to warm. You can rest for a while, then, when you’re ready to eat, they’ll be waiting.” Sara tightened the foil around the container and placed it inside the oven.

It struck Kyle then that he was doing what he’d vowed not to. He was letting someone do things for him. He was letting himself become dependent.

“What did you want to ask me?” The question was perfunctory. He didn’t want to hear. What he really wanted was for this disturbing woman to leave him alone.

Sara took her time dumping the basin, washing it out and storing it.

“Come on. I can’t be that unapproachable,” he prodded with a smile.

“Yes, you can.” Sara looked straight at him, unsmiling. “But I’ll ask anyway. I want to use something of yours.”

“Use something—of mine?” That sounded as if she’d made it up on the spur of the moment. Maybe she was only here because she felt sorry for him. Kyle’s gut burned. “Like what?”

“That.” She pointed out the grimy window that overlooked his backyard.

Kyle followed her pointing finger. He couldn’t figure out what she meant at first. There was nothing in the backyard. Except—

“I’d like permission to use your greenhouse, Kyle,” she said.

“My mom’s greenhouse.” Past memories, very personal memories, of the joys he shared inside that greenhouse built inside his head but he suppressed them. Kyle was suddenly irrationally annoyed at the way Sara kept pushing her way into his world. All he wanted was to be alone. “What could you possibly want that for?”

“Last night Laurel told me some of the boys’ histories so I’d understand why they’re at Lives.” She sat down. A tiny line furrowed her brow as she studied her hands. “I’m not sure I’m allowed to discuss them.”

“I’ll keep whatever you want to tell me confidential,” Kyle promised, curiosity mounting.

“Laurel says one of the boys is quite withdrawn. Rod.” She peeked through her lashes at him. “But he did very well when he was involved in a program at a tree nursery.”

Kyle waited, surprised by her earnest tone.

“Of course, there aren’t any tree nurseries here in Churchill,” Sara said, “but I thought that if he could get involved in growing something, it might help. We don’t have the capability at Lives. But I remembered seeing your greenhouse when we were here yesterday. If Rod could grow fresh herbs, I could use them in my cooking. Laurel said we’d share whatever we grew with you.” Her silver-gray eyes never left his face. “If you agree to let us use the greenhouse, that is.”