Nadia Nichols - From Out Of The Blue

She walked to where the soda machine hummed and moths dashed themselves to death against the bare light bulb burning above. She fed coins into the machine and pushed the button for iced tea. There was a crashing thump as the can landed in the dispenser, but she left it there because iced tea wasn’t what she’d really come out here for.

She’d come to think about what her mother had said about Hayden deserving a father and Mitch deserving to know he had a son. Why did mothers always have to be right?

Mitchell McCray. For years she’d tried not to think about him, but as her son grew, that became increasingly impossible. Hayden looked way too much like his father. She tried to forget how she’d behaved that night, because a part of her just couldn’t believe Mitch had so easily, so effortlessly swept her off her feet.

Dear Reader,

Stories are sometimes like stray cats. You don’t go looking for them; they find you. This past December I went online to shop for a new dog sled. Sled Dog Central links to all related sites, and their main page announced the shocking news that Susan Butcher, four-time winner of the 1100-mile Iditarod Sled Dog Race, had recently been diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia.

Susan’s influence on the lives of others has been profound. At twenty-nine, I watched her being interviewed during the Iditarod by an ABC news correspondent and was awed. She was inspirational, forging her way boldly through the middle of the magnificent Alaskan wilderness, driving her beloved team of sled dogs and handily beating the male-dominated field. Women all over the world rode the runners with her and thrilled to her victory, not just once but four times. Her courage and determination changed our world. How could such a strong-spirited woman with two beautiful daughters and a devoted husband be diagnosed with such a life-threatening disease?

While researching her illness I learned about the critical need for bone marrow donors and joined the donor registry. Then I wrote this story, hopefully to open the eyes of others who might want to help save a life. The characters in this story are fictional, but there’s nothing fictional about leukemia. Progress is being made in the treatments, and the long-term survival rate is climbing, especially for children, but we still have a long way to go. To find out more about how to become a donor, go to www.marrow.org.

Whoever said “If you have your health, you have everything?” was right. Count your blessings and cherish each day. Love your little ones and sing them to sleep. Life is short.

Nadia Nichols

www.nadianichols.com

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Nadia went to the dogs at the age of twenty-nine and currently operates a kennel of thirty Alaskan huskies. She has raced for fifteen years in northern New England and Canada, works at the family-owned Harraseeket Inn in Freeport, Maine, and is also a registered Maine guide.

She began her writing career at the age of five, when she made her first sale, a short story called “The Bear,” to her mother for 25 cents. This story was such a blockbuster that her mother bought every other story Nadia wrote and kept her in ice cream money throughout much of her childhood.

Now all her royalties go toward buying dog food. She can be reached at nadianichols@aol.com.

For Susan

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

FUNNY, HOW SMALL the house looked from the curb. It was the exact same size as all the other cookie-cutter houses on the base with the exact same size lawn in front, but now that it was no longer her home, it looked sad and abandoned and small. The lawn was dry and brown and the bushes against the foundation drooped in the Southern California heat. The street was quiet. No curious onlookers were on hand for her departure. Her CO had kept his promise that there would be no farewell fuss or fanfare. Her furniture and belongings were packed away into the moving van and the crew was ready to roll. One of the men was closing the van’s rear door while the other approached with a clipboard.

“If I could just get your signature on the bottom, ma’am, we’ll be on our way.”

She took the pen and clipboard and signed her full name on the line: Katherine Carolyn Jones. She left off the part she was leaving behind—“Captain.” As of three days ago, when ten years of Navy life had come to a premature end, she was officially a civilian. She handed the clipboard back. “Thank you. See you in a few days.”

“Montana’s not that far. We might even beat you there.”

“You will. We’re taking the scenic route,” she said.

He climbed into the cab of the moving van with his partner, started up the truck and pulled away from the curb.

She wasn’t aware that her mother was standing beside her until she spoke. “Honey? You all right?”

“Sure. Just a little hot, that’s all.” Kate slipped her arm around her mother’s waist. Ruth Jones had been like a rock the past few days, throughout the long, arduous process of packing up. Dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt, Ruth radiated that ageless Montana cowgirl vitality and had the lean, fit build to match. Her graying hair was neatly bound into a braid that hung between her shoulders.

“Montana’ll seem chilly to you after all these years away.” She glanced toward the car. “Maybe we should get going. Hayden’s getting antsy. He keeps asking where Rosa’s gone.”

Kate followed her mother’s gaze to where her young son fidgeted in the backseat along with Wiggins, the family cat. Neither of them enjoyed riding in vehicles, and the journey was just beginning. This was the first time Hayden would be separated from the woman who’d cared for him during Kate’s frequent absences from his life. Rosa’s tearful goodbye the day before had been heartrending, but she’d refused to come to Montana. It was too far from her family in Mexico. Too cold and snowy. She would stay in California and find another nanny job. Kate knew that wouldn’t be difficult. The fifty-eight-year-old woman was marvelous with children, and an excellent cook and housekeeper to boot. Kate would miss her calm, cheerful competence very much, along with her chicken relleno, green chili stew and guacamole salads.

Hayden was already missing her. He was fussy and irritable and nothing his mother or grandmother did or said seemed to comfort him. It would take them at least three days to drive to Montana because Kate was determined to make it an enjoyable road trip and not a marathon. Her mother’s company would be a good distraction. It would keep her from thinking about why she was giving up the life she’d loved and the career she’d worked so hard for.

She took one final look at her house and was walking toward the car when the base’s postal truck turned the corner and made the requisite stop at the bank of mailboxes that served all the houses on the street. She groaned as her own mailbox was opened and a handful of what were no doubt huge medical bills were stuffed inside. “Hang on a sec, Mom. I’ll be right back.” She trotted up to the postal truck and leaned in the window. “Hey, Charlie, do me a favor?”