Chapter Three
Chessie set the last vase of flowers in the middle of the breakfast bar and fussed with it, turning the vase to get it just right. “So, time to fess up. What’s the deal?”
“About what?” September looked up from her position on the couch, sorting her mail. A surprising amount of junk had accumulated during the two days she’d been in the hospital.
“Not what. Who.” Satisfied with the way the flowers looked, Chessie dropped into one of the bar chairs. “What was Mark Hawkins really doing in your hospital room?”
“The obvious. Bringing flowers. Seeing how I was.”
“I didn’t know you had anything to do with that life anymore.”
She meant army life. September sighed, remembering the tough time her sister had given her over her decision to date a Ranger and then accept his marriage proposal. She tossed a handful of advertisements into the paper-recycling bin. “I haven’t seen Hawk since the funeral.”
“Talk about coincidences.”
“You have no idea.”
“Not a good coincidence.”
“No.” Her heart twisted hard, remembering how Hawk had changed. What had happened to him? “I’m trying to move on with my life, and it’s not easy. Something always pops up to pull me back.” Something forced her to remember when life had been bright and her dreams shiny and new.
“He should know that. He should have left you alone.” Chessie, protective big sister, folded her arms across her chest. “Want me to talk to him?”
“No. He meant well. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to see him again. As if. He will probably be TDY by the end of the week.”
“You mean on a tour of duty?” Chessie relaxed and propped her chin on her fists. “All right, I won’t hunt him down. But that doesn’t mean you’re okay. You didn’t need a reminder of your losses.”
“True.” She tossed a few more envelopes thick with coupons she would never need. “He looks hardened. No longer the carefree guy I remember.”
“War will do that, I suppose. It’s his choice to do what he does, carrying a gun and shooting people with it.” Chessie had a strong opinion on that. She had strong opinions on just about everything. “Don’t worry, I will stay off my soapbox, but what kind of man does that year after year?”
The kind who cares about others more than himself. September kept quiet. She wasn’t up to any kind of serious discussion about the rights and wrongs of war. Nor did she remind her sister that those words maligned Tim’s memory. Tim who had died trying to save innocent embassy hostages. Hawk had been wounded on that mission, she remembered. The hows and whys were a mystery to her.
“I’m going to swing by and pick up some pizza. That ought to put a smile on your face.” Chessie slid off the chair and hooked her purse strap over her shoulder. “I’ll get a dessert pizza, too. The Stevens girls are going to totally carb out.”
“Sounds just like what I need.” Comfort food all the way. She flung the last junk mail envelope into the bin. There, done with that chore. Not that there weren’t a dozen more needing to be done around here. Clutter was accumulating. She needed to give her family room and kitchen area a serious going-over. Keeping busy would keep her mind off her troubles, right?
“What are you doing?” Chessie scolded from the doorway. “I see you getting up. You’re going to do housework, aren’t you?”
“Why do you say that like an accusation?” September swiped a stack of books off the coffee table and tucked them into the crook of her good arm. “I have pizza coupons you can use.”
“I have some in my car.” Chessie closed the door and crossed through the living room. “That’s it, I’m calling for delivery. Someone needs to keep an eye on you. Now lie down. Do it now, or I’ll make you.”
“This sounds exactly like my childhood,” she quipped, reluctantly putting down the books. “No one can understand the hardship I went through as your sister.”
“Ha, ha.” Chessie tapped her foot, pointing to the arm of the couch where she’d propped two fluffy down pillows earlier. “Feet up. I mean it—”
The doorbell rang. She was saved. She kept her feet firmly on the hardwood floor. “Should I get that?”
“As if.” Chessie huffed out a frustrated sigh as she pivoted on her Mary Janes and marched through the town house. “You stay right where you are, sister dear. You just got out of the hospital and you’re going to take care of yourself even if I have to—”
She opened the door and fell silent. Curious, September leaned forward far enough on the cushions to see a uniformed delivery dude holding pizza boxes.
“Got a delivery for Hawkins,” he announced.
“Hawkins?” That had her moving across the room. She was halfway to the door before she saw the black motorcycle pulling up to the curb out front. Hawk swung off his bike, unbuckling his helmet.
“I’ll sign for it.” He slung his helmet over the backrest while the delivery guy handed Chessie the pizzas. The look on her sister’s face wasn’t a good one.
What was Hawk up to now? Why was he here? She hadn’t recovered from seeing him in the hospital. She hadn’t recovered from seeing him at all. Why did he have to show up looking so alive and vital?
“What aren’t you telling me?” Chessie asked as they watched Hawk sign the charge slip with an efficient scribble.
“Not one thing.”
“I hope you’re right. I’ll take these to the kitchen.” Chessie tapped away, her tone cool.
The sunlight graced him, but he was a man who walked as if he did not notice. He’d turned grim over the last hard years, and his strong, granite face, which had always been quick to grin, was serious.
She held the door for him, watching as he strode up the walkway. She couldn’t stop from caring. Well, not the serious kind of caring. What she felt was sympathy, she told herself, understanding for the man who had rescued her. Nothing more complicated than that.
“Hope you don’t mind.” He slipped the receipt into his wallet. “I figured you wouldn’t be up to cooking and your sister might appreciate a little help.”
“It was nice of you.” She didn’t need to wonder if there was a deeper motive or a hidden agenda. He was a straightforward guy. She liked Hawk; she had always liked him, and why wouldn’t she? He had been a good friend to Tim. He was a good man. That’s what she would concentrate on and not the past, not the hurt. She pulled open the door a little wider in welcome. “Why don’t you come in and have lunch with us?”
“I don’t mean to impose. I wondered if there was anything I could do for you. Run some errands or something.” He crossed the threshold, towering over her. “I’m good at fetching.”
“Are you sure you don’t have anything better
