Authors: Debbie Macomber
Someday Soon
Debbie Macomber
To Jane McMahon
A friend for all seasons
Knowing you has blessed my life
The screaming had stopped. The shouts, the…
Her first mistake was agreeing to attend this Christmas party.
Linette was busy at her shop early Saturday morning when…
Cain needed to do some Christmas shopping. That was why…
Cain tossed his car keys in the air and caught…
Louis St. Cyr wasn’t going home for Christmas. A visit on…
Francine Holden loved her family. Loved spending the Christmas holidays…
“You’ll come for New Year’s, won’t you?” Michael’s mother pressed…
Francine knew Tim was well past the point of being…
It was one of those winter evenings that Linette referred…
Cain had never wooed a woman. Frankly, he wasn’t sure…
Paul Curnyn was going to die. Not once had he…
“I don’t know what your problem is, Mallory, but whatever…
“Can I get you anything? Water?” The big man leapt…
Cain’s men didn’t like her. In the beginning, Linette thought…
Francine saw the dust rising from the driveway long before…
“If you’re going to be a real cowboy, I suspect…
Mallory didn’t venture far from the house these days. Francine…
There were two men, Mallory decided. The first had positioned…
Knowing Linette was safely on her way to San Francisco…
The screaming had stopped
. The shouts, the shots, the terror, were over. Now all Deliverance Company had to do was escape, and every detail of their route had been carefully planned.
Cain McClellan had never been comfortable with this mission, although it was similar to ten others he and his men had handled over the years. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, other than a feeling. One that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand straight on end. They’d been lucky, damn lucky. In twelve years he’d never lost a man.
Deliverance Company was good. His men were some of the best trained commandos in the world. That was why they were paid so handsomely.
Only something wasn’t right, and Cain knew it. He was a man who lived and died by his instincts, but Tim Mallory and his other men had proved him wrong. Thus far.
The rescue, their specialty, had gone off like clockwork. Deliverance Company was in and out of the jungle compound in seconds, leaving the Nicaraguan government troops stunned and confused. That was exactly the way they’d planned it. By the time the Sandinistas figured out what had happened, Cain and his men would be long gone.
The man they’d saved, a CEO for a big-time manufacturing company, had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and fallen into hostile hands. Very hostile hands. The United States government’s options were limited, trapped as they were in political red tape. Cain had been contacted early on by the conglomerate. Such missions were his specialty.
The helicopter was due any minute. According to their plan, the men of Deliverance Company had split and were scheduled to rendezvous in a designated area at fifteen hundred hours.
The eerie feeling returned, the sensation that said something was about to go terribly wrong. Cain’s instincts had saved his life more than once, and he didn’t take this feeling lightly. He stopped abruptly and looked around.
“Come on,” Mallory urged, rushing past him. “We don’t have time to waste.”
The sudden impact of the explosion knocked Cain to the ground. He landed hard, on his face, and his mouth filled with the slick taste of blood. Shock and pain welled inside him as he staggered to his feet. His breath rasped painfully in his lungs.
Only when he was upright did Cain understand what had happened. Mallory had stepped on a land mine, the force of which had ripped through his right leg and hip. Jagged flesh and bone were exposed where once a healthy, whole man had stood. The acrid stench of explosives hung in the air, mingled with that of blood and sweat. The smell of death hung over them like a winter fog before the smoke cleared.
The ominous sounds of gunfire crackled in the background.
“Leave me,” Mallory ground out from between gritted teeth. He gripped his leg with both hands and looked over his shoulder. Cain didn’t need him to say anything to know the Sandinistas were quickly gaining on them.
“I’m not going anywhere without you.” Cain moved toward the fallen man, surprised by how hard it was to remain upright. His steps wove one way and then the other.
“You haven’t got time to waste.” It went without saying that either they reached the rendezvous point on time or the chopper left without them.
“It’s too late for me,” Mallory mumbled, fighting to stay conscious.
Cain reached him, and one glance told him the injuries were massive. He didn’t take time to investigate further. He reached for Mallory, preparing to lift him onto his shoulders.
“I’ve lost too much blood. I’ll never make it.” Mallory’s voice faded as he drifted toward unconsciousness. “Don’t risk…”
A bullet whizzed past Cain’s head as he heaved Mallory’s two-hundred-plus pounds onto his shoulders. Blood drenched his shirt and ran down both his arms like a waterfall. Staggering under the weight, Cain strained and raced with his burden toward the meeting point.
“Let me die,” Mallory pleaded, sucking in deep breaths in an effort to remain conscious. “The leg’s gone, man, and so am I.”
“Not yet you aren’t,” Cain shouted. “You’re going to make it.”
“I’d rather die.”
“Not while I’m around, you won’t.”
A bullet caught Cain in the arm, a flesh wound, the pain as searing as if someone had branded him with a white-hot poker.
The copter was in sight, its massive blades whirling, stirring up dust and excitement. The sound was deafening, but Cain swore he’d never heard anything more beautiful in his life.
Her first mistake was agreeing
to attend this Christmas party. Her second was downing a glass of champagne and then, for courage, another.
Her third error in judgment was remembering Michael.
The only reason Linette Collins had agreed to come was that it was easier to give in to Nancy and Rob than argue.
It was well past time for her to socialize again, they claimed. Long past time for her to grieve. Only no one had told her how she was supposed to grow another heart. No one had told her all the time she’d been granted to mourn her husband was two short years.
Her heart had been rubbed raw in the time it had taken leukemia to claim her young husband’s life. Since Michael’s death the days had blended together, one twenty-four-hour period dragging into the next until the
weeks and months had blurred together in a thick fog of disenchantment.
Linette had gotten on with her life, the way everyone said she should. She went to work every day. She ate. Slept. She managed to do all that was required of her and nothing more, simply because she hadn’t the energy. Or the inclination.
Then, out of the blue, when she was least expecting it, she’d found peace. A shaky sort of acceptance that teetered, then, gradually, with time, righted itself.
This serenity happened as if by magic. She woke one morning and realized the pain she’d constantly carried with her didn’t seem quite as heavy. The doubts, the fears, the never-ending litany of questions, faded. Unsure of how it had happened, Linette had graciously accepted this small slice of peace, this unexpected reprieve, and clung to it tenaciously.
Each day the feeling had grown stronger, and for the first time in months she felt whole. Almost whole, she amended.
But when she’d stepped into this Christmas party she hadn’t been prepared for the festivities to hit her quite this way. The fun, the singing, the laughter, reminded her forcefully that it had been almost two years to the day since Michael’s death.
“I’m so pleased you came,” Nancy said as she squeezed past Linette. Her sister-in-law smelled of cinnamon and bayberry and looked incredibly lovely in her sleeveless winter green velvet gown. Linette’s own white wool dress didn’t fit as well as it should. She’d done what she could to disguise how loose it was with a narrow gold belt.
“I’m pleased I came, too,” Linette lied, but it was only a small white one and unfortunately necessary. She sipped champagne and forced herself to smile.
“Did you sample the hors d’oeuvres?” Nancy asked. “You must! I spent hours and hours assembling those little devils. Try the teriyaki chicken bits first. They’re wonderful.” She pressed her fingertips to her lips and kissed them noisily.
“I’ll give them a taste,” Linette promised.
Without warning, Nancy’s arms shot out and hugged Linette long and hard. When she drew back, Linette noticed tears shimmering in her sister-in-law’s eyes. Nancy’s lower lip quivered as she struggled to hold in the emotion. “I miss him so much,” she said, choking out the words. “I still think about him. It doesn’t seem like it’s been two years.”
“I know.” Instead it felt as if several lifetimes had passed.
Linette squeezed Nancy’s hand. It often happened like this, her comforting others. How ironic.
“Oh, damn. I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Nancy murmured, pressing her index fingers beneath each eye while she blinked furiously in an effort to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks.
“It’s only natural you should miss Michael,” Linette offered, briefly wrapping her arm around Nancy’s waist.
“It just hit me all at once that he was gone. I’m sorry, Linette, the last thing you need is for me to remind you of Michael, especially tonight. This is a party, we’re supposed to be having fun.” Nancy reached for the champagne bottle and Linette’s glass. She sipped from her own glass, then laughed lightly. “He’d want us to celebrate.”
That was true. Michael had always been generous and loving.
“Oh, my,” Nancy said a tad breathlessly, turning around abruptly. Her startled eyes flew to Linette’s. “Tell me, how do I look?” she asked, nervously brushing her hands down her skirt.
Linette blinked, surprised by Nancy’s lack of confidence. “Great.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive. Why?”
“Rob’s boss and his wife just arrived.”
“You don’t have a thing to worry about,” Linette assured her.
“My makeup’s okay?” She dabbed at her cheeks.
“A beauty queen would envy you that face.”
Nancy laughed. “Rob’s up for promotion, you know.”
Linette didn’t, but the news wasn’t a surprise. She’d often admired her brother-in-law for his intelligence and ambition.
With a toothpaste-ad smile on her lips, Nancy left, and Linette glanced at her watch once more. Ten more minutes, she decided, and then she’d make an excuse and leave. Silently she’d slip back to life without Michael.
The minute Cain arrived at the Christmas party, he’d noticed her. Like him, she was alone. Uncomfortable. Eager to escape. She was a lovely thing. Petite and fragile. He found himself studying her almost against his will. It wasn’t that she was strikingly beautiful. “Winsome” came to mind, although it was an old-fashioned word
and not often used these days. But then, she seemed to be a quaint kind of woman.
It was almost as if she’d stepped out of another time and place. Perhaps it was the sense of being lost that he felt. A sense of being alone and slightly afraid, uncomfortably aware of being out of place.
Not afraid, he decided. The more he studied her, the more he realized this woman had walked through a deep, dark valley. He wasn’t sure how he knew this, but he’d come to trust his intuition. She sipped from the champagne glass and briefly gnawed on the corner of her lip. Watching her made Cain wonder if she’d made her way completely across that valley. Maybe he should find out. No. He decided to leave well enough alone.
Carrying his drink with him, he slowly made his way through the crowd to find a secluded corner. Andy Williams crooned a Christmas ditty from a nearby speaker.
Cain hadn’t been keen on attending this get-together. This was what he got for giving in to curiosity and looking up Rob Lewis. They’d been good friends in high school, and he was interested to see what had become of his buddy since they’d both left the thriving metropolis of Valentine, Nebraska.
Years before, Cain and Rob had been the local football heroes. Cain was the quarterback and Rob his favorite wide receiver. Frankly, he’d enjoyed his brief stint as a celebrity.
Following graduation Cain had gone into the military and Rob to college. They’d talked a couple of times in the years since, a card at Christmas with a few lines, but that was the extent of it.
Since Cain was in San Francisco getting Mallory set up on a rehabilitation program for his hip and knee, it only made sense to catch up with his longtime buddy. In a moment of goodwill and—all right—weakness, Cain had agreed to drop in on this Christmas party.
He was uncomfortable in crowds. He’d never been one to exhibit many of the more refined social graces. He felt out of place here. Sipping his Jack Daniel’s, he returned his gaze to the woman who’d garnered his attention earlier.
Why not, he decided as he stepped around the sofa. It was Christmas, and it’d been a good long while since he’d felt this strongly attracted to a woman. He wove his way between two couples who were attempting to sing a favorite Christmas carol in German and failing miserably. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, and Cain found them amusing.
“A half hour,” Cain said, slipping next to her. She stood close to the fireplace, holding the fluted champagne glass in both hands.
“A half hour?” she repeated, gazing at him with wide brown eyes. Doe eyes, big, trusting, sincere.
“That’s how long you’d decided to wait before you quietly left.”
Her gaze widened. “How’d you know?”
The whiskey burned the back of his throat. “Because that was how long I’d decided to wait before I left.”
She smiled then, and he was amazed at the transformation the simple action brought to her delicate features. It was if the sun had peeked from behind a thick, dark cloud, spilling sunshine. Her eyes brightened and her lips quivered softly.
“I’m Cain McClellan,” he said, holding out his hand to her.
“Linette Collins.”
“Hello, Linette.” The name sounded vaguely familiar, and he frowned in an effort to remember where he’d heard it. Possibly from Rob, who’d attempted to match him up for the evening.
“You don’t work with Rob, do you?” Her attention drifted to his hair, and he realized the high and tight military cut told her he probably wasn’t a stockbroker.
“Rob and I are longtime friends,” he answered without elaborating. “What about you?”
“Nancy and Rob are my brother-and sister-in-law.”
“You’re married?” His gaze shot to her left hand. Her ring finger was bare, but the indentation of a wedding band was clearly visible. It was then that Cain remembered where he’d heard her name. Rob had mentioned Nancy’s brother had passed away a couple of years earlier and suggested Cain meet the widow. He’d declined.
“My husband died,” she explained unnecessarily.
Cain felt a sudden need for another drink. He clinked his ice against the side of the glass and stared at the melting cubes. “Can I get you anything?” he asked, gesturing toward the bar.
Linette set aside her empty champagne glass. “Nothing, thanks.”
Cain left her and headed across the room. He wanted to kick himself for being so inept. It was apparent she was ill at ease; perhaps she wanted to talk about her late husband and had been looking for a willing ear.
It didn’t matter, because the moment she’d announced she was a widow, he’d grown so uncomfortable that he’d
made an excuse to leave her. The thing was he hadn’t known what to say. That he was sorry? That sounded phony. Hell, he’d never met the man.
Circumstances such as these made him regret not leaving for Montana at the first opportunity. Instead he’d lollygagged around San Francisco, looking up old friends and making a fool of himself.
When Cain had a fresh drink, he turned and discovered Linette hadn’t left the party. He was pleased she’d stayed. He hadn’t wanted their conversation to end abruptly, but he wasn’t sure what more he had to say, either.
He studied the bright red stockings hanging from the fireplace mantel and casually walked back to her side. Her gentle smile reached out to greet him.
“Something amuses you?”
“Nancy,” she responded, which was no answer whatsoever.
He looked around for Rob’s wife, not finding her.
“She mentioned you,” Linette elaborated. “I just realized you were the one she’d wanted me to meet.”
“Rob tried to line me up with you as well.”
“Nancy did this whole song and dance about it being two years since Michael…and that there was this old school buddy of Rob’s who was in town.”
Cain grinned, thinking it had been a good long while since he’d had reason to smile about anything. “I guess we showed them.”
“I guess we did.” Linette laughed softly and waved her hand in front of her face. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”
Standing in front of the softly flickering fire might
have had something to do with why she was uncomfortably warm, but Cain didn’t mention that. Instead he took her by the elbow and guided her outside to a small balcony that overlooked San Francisco Bay. The lights on the Golden Gate Bridge outlined the well-known landmark, illuminating the skyline in a postcard-perfect silhouette.
A cool breeze drifted off the water, and the sky was crowded with stars that seemed determined to dazzle them with their brilliance.
Linette gripped hold of the balcony railing with both hands, closed her eyes, and tilted her head upward. When she exhaled, her shoulders sagged appreciatively.
“Nancy said something about you being out of the country a lot of the time. That must be hard.”
“It’s my job,” he said.
“You don’t miss home?”
In the last year, he hadn’t thought about the ranch enough to miss it. Nor had he hurried to Montana when the opportunity arose. He was a man without ties, without roots. That was the way it had to be.
“I’m too busy to think about it,” he answered after a moment, and looked to her, wanting to divert the subject away from himself. “Do you work?”
She nodded. “I own a knitting shop called Wild and Wooly, on Pier Thirty-nine.”
A knitting shop. It fit. He could easily picture Linette snuggled up on a rocking chair next to a fireplace, her long needles clicking softly as she expertly wove yarn. He found the image inviting, as if she’d asked him to cozy up next to her.
Cain wished he could pinpoint what it was about
Linette that conjured up fantasies of domestic bliss. Homespun women didn’t generally appeal to him.
It was the season, he decided, when goodwill toward men flourished and a man’s thoughts turned to hearth and home. Christmastime seemed to bring out the best in people, himself included, he reasoned, willing to accept the explanation.
“Would you care to dance?” Linette asked him.
“Dance? Me?” Her invitation flustered him. He flattened his hand against his chest as the excuses worked their way up his throat. “I’m not much good at that sort of thing,” he managed after an awkward moment.
“Me either. But we don’t need to worry about making fools of ourselves, out here.” She held up her arms, and before a second protest could form, she was in his embrace.
He tensed, but she didn’t seem to notice. Tucking her head under his chin, she hummed along with the music, and gradually he relaxed.
Their feet made short, awkward shuffling movements until Cain realized that there was actually some kind of rhythm to their motions.
The tension slowly eased from his limbs, and he pressed his chin against her temple. She smelled of wild-flowers and sunshine. He’d never held anyone more incredibly soft. So soft, she frightened him. He absorbed her gentleness the way a thirsty sponge did water. With her in his arms, he could close his eyes and not see the mangled bodies of men who’d died at his hand. With her he heard the soft strains of joyous music instead of the screams of dying, bitter men as they cursed him on their way to hell.