Debra Kastner - Daddy's Home

He knew without a doubt that when she walked away today, she wouldn’t meet with him again, at least not intentionally. She’d run the other direction whenever she saw him, screaming inwardly if not in reality.

Which meant his next move must be furtive. He’d have to follow her around until an opportunity presented itself to speak with her again—in a time and in a location where she had no place to go except into his arms.

God would give him that opportunity. Or maybe he’d have to make his own.

Jasmine didn’t immediately return to Gram’s apartment, where she was staying with Sammy. She knew Gram would take care of the baby as long as necessary. And right now, Jasmine needed to be alone, to have time to think.

Not entirely conscious of where she was going or why, she found herself parking in front of Jenny’s cottage. There was still a lot of work to be done, she supposed. And it was quiet here, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the medical clinic.

Once in the small cabin, she started to absently box up Jenny’s things, beginning with the books in her room. She picked up an empty apple box from the pile and began stacking various romance novels spine up, mixed with some hardbacked classic literature.

Jasmine laughed to herself, trying to picture her flighty sister reading the classics. Fashion magazines were more her style.

Had been her style. Jasmine quickly sobered. How well had she really known Jenny? She suspected not as well as she should have, especially in the last few years.

They’d been close as children, though there was four years difference between them. But they had drifted apart when Jasmine reached high school and got interested in friends, makeup and boys.

In Christopher.

And when Jenny caught up, she’d taken a different road than Jasmine, who’d been class president and received straight A’s. Jenny hung out with the flashy crowd, the ones with too much money and too much time. Jasmine had always wondered what Jenny could have in common with her friends.

She didn’t have money, and she wasn’t collegebound. She just didn’t seem the type. But she appeared to be happy, and Jasmine had left it alone. How she’d ended up with a simple cowboy like Christopher was beyond Jasmine.

And then she’d gone off to college herself, thanks to the grant from the city, increasing the emotional distance between the two sisters. As far as she knew, Jenny had grown into a beautiful, self-assured adult, a relative stranger she greeted with a kiss on the cheek when she came home from the holidays. Had Jenny been seeing Christopher even then?

There was always laughter in the house during vacations and holidays. Jasmine puckered her brow, straining to remember if her sister had been part of the joyous festivities. Or had she been off with friends? Jasmine couldn’t remember. Probably, she’d been too busy with Christopher to notice, a thought which gave her a guilty start.

Shaking her head to clear her introspection, Jasmine carried the box of books into the living room, where the rest of Jenny’s boxed goods were stored, and went to Jenny’s room to begin stripping the bedclothes. Her sister’s sweet, airy scent still lingered on the sheets, and she brought a pillow to her face, inhaling deeply.

“We never said goodbye,” she whispered aloud, hugging the pillow to her chest. She wished she had one more minute, just one, to give Jenny a hug and tell her how much she was loved.

Jasmine shook herself from her melancholy with some effort. Funny how grief hit her at the oddest moments. She’d think her emotions were under control, and then in a second’s time, grief would wash over her and overwhelm her, sometimes for no apparent reason.

Those were the toughest times, the moments before she found the strength to tuck her grief back away and go on living, because that’s what she had to do. Because she was here and Jenny was not, and baby Sammy depended on her.

She reached for the other pillow, but when she yanked at the corner to pull off the pillowcase, Jenny’s Bible fell to the floor.

Jasmine had forgotten all about it. She’d slipped it under the pillow when Christopher had shown up. She was relieved to find it now. It was a part of Jenny she wanted to keep.

Heart in her throat, she reached down and scooped it up, tenderly smoothing the bent pages before closing the cracked leather. Sitting on the stripped bed with one leg tucked under her, she ran a hand across the front of the Bible, considering whether it would be right to read more of the notes Jenny had written in the margins.

She was so confused, so hurt. And she missed her sister terribly. Would it be a breach of trust to read a little, to bring Jenny near through her words, her thoughts and dreams and faith? Who knew but that maybe, in some small way, it would help her know what to do about Christopher and Sammy.

She could only hope for such a miracle, even if she didn’t believe in miracles anymore.

The next morning, Christopher eyed the two-room log cabin, turning over the possibilities in his mind. After leaving the diner, he’d phoned an old high school football buddy, who’d lent him this place for the weekend. If God was willing and he planned right, it would be his and Jasmine’s for at least one completely uninterrupted, if not happy, day.

Loose gravel and pine needles crunched under his feet as he approached the cabin, his friend’s fishing hideaway. Nothing spectacular—it didn’t even have electric heat. But for what Christopher had in mind, it was perfect.

He’d purposely picked a cabin tucked up just far enough into the Sangre de Cristo mountain range to keep the clinic from sending in emergency equipment right away, yet far enough from town to warrant Jasmine’s personal attention.

Not to mention high enough in altitude to get a good snow, if the weather cooperated.

He eyed the sky critically, wondering when the snow would start. The weather forecast indicated a major storm heading their way. It could snow five feet in a day here, given the right conditions.

He only hoped these were the right conditions, external and internal. And that Jasmine would come when he called, even if she knew about the impending snowstorm. If they sent a couple of paramedics from Wetmore after him, he was in a world of hurt.

He laughed despite his sour mood.

She would come. Jasmine Enderlin was the singularly most compassionate woman he’d ever known. She wouldn’t give a second’s thought to risking her own life and health in order to help someone who needed her, a quality that made her a terrific doctor and an even better person.

His respect for her was only superseded by his love.

If he could just blurt out the truth of the past and wipe the slate clean, things would be much simpler. If she would listen. If she would believe him.

And if he had only himself to consider. He wouldn’t waste a second before telling her everything. And he sure wouldn’t be at 9500 feet constructing ridiculous undercover adventures better suited to spy novels than to an old-fashioned man who couldn’t give up his dreams.

But right now he’d do just about anything—including spy novel antics, in order to see her again.

Again he glanced at the sky, wondering how long he had left to prepare. He had wood to chop, dinner to make and a leg to break.

He chuckled softly at his own joke, then quickly sobered, drawing in a breath, clenching his jaw and pressing his lips together as he determinedly went to find an ax.

I married Christopher tonight. Mrs. Christopher Jordan. Jenny Jordan. How awkward that sounds!

I still can’t believe things worked out the way they did. Everything seemed so hopeless, and then there was Christopher and…