sun was setting, the sky a light gray. He could see the sharp pointed tips of the evergreens behind the massive two-story log house. To his left were three large red barns. To his right were pipe-rail fences where the cattle were kept. Most of the animals were probably in nearby pastures, huddled in herds, their butts to the wind, keeping warm. The barns would house the wrangler’s horses in box stalls, the grain and hay to feed these herds.
No one was out in the coming blizzard. The car-rental place at the Great Falls, Montana, airport had warned him that a major storm was on its way. It was expected to dump three to four feet of snow in the next one or two days. He’d arrived home just in time.
Turning, he wiped his wet face and spotted something in the window nearest the bright red wooden door. It was an electric candle sitting in the window.
Old memories flowed through Kyle as he stared at the light, filling him with remorse and yearning. When she was eighteen, Anna had bought the electric candle in a scroll-like saucer of green copper at a hardware store in Great Falls. She told Kyle she would keep the candle on during the holidays, as a light, so he could find his way home to her. Pain squeezed his heart.
The window was partly frosted over in the corners, the ice crystals making the soft yellow light look like some kind of halo an angel might wear. Anna was his angel. She always had been. His mouth pulled in at the corners as he stood there on the walk, his gaze on that candle, the memories filling him like warm, spiced red wine tainted with bitterness.
Kyle couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t loved Anna. They had grown up together on this ranch, attended the same small school, played together, laughed together and had so much fun. He’d joined the Navy at eighteen and later became a SEAL. He’d left Anna crying in this very driveway that cold December day. Rubbing his chest, grief, loss and concern warred within Kyle.
Of all the people in the world he loved, Anna had always owned his heart. And he’d broken hers. Dragging in a ragged breath, Kyle tried to steady his emotions, but it was impossible. He knew from several phone calls with the head wrangler at the ranch, Jepson Turner, that Anna had a grade-three concussion, a serious one, but was steadily improving. For that, Kyle had breathed in a sigh of relief so deep that he was overwhelmed with gratefulness in that moment.
He had always expected to die in combat, not be called home because Anna teetered between life and death for two weeks in a hospital.
What could he say to her? Kyle stood with the snow falling silently around him, his gaze never leaving that candle, or the hope Anna had clung to that he’d someday come home and stay here forever. With her. The starry-eyed idealism of an eighteen-year-old girl helplessly in love with him. He’d loved her and she’d blindly loved him. At first, as children, it was puppy love. In junior high, the love turned serious. But then, she’d turned down his marriage proposal when he’d come home at twenty-two.
No one in his platoon saw him weeping. Kyle had gone off by himself. He’d cried for what he’d selfishly thrown away: Anna. He’d never talked or emailed her again, not wanting to cause her more pain. And then, five years later, he got an email from his mother, telling him that she’d divorced her wrangler husband, Tom Carter. Kyle hadn’t even known she’d married. It came as a shock. But he couldn’t leave the SEALs and come home and marry her. His heart wanted that, but his loyalty to his team had been a stronger calling.
Until now.
News of her accident—that she’d almost died—changed everything. It changed him. But Kyle wasn’t sure about anything right now. And it was the uncertainty that made him tense and edgy as he forced himself to move the last twenty feet toward that red-painted door and press the buzzer. He tried to ignore the circular wreath composed of sprigs of pine with a bright red ribbon and silver-glittered pinecones fastened to it. That was Anna’s work. She loved Christmas and made beautiful arrangements to celebrate the season. When he was younger, he had helped her.
What would Anna look like now? She knew he was coming home to see her. So many years ago, at her parents’ urging to protect the family property, Anna had made out a will and had given him power of attorney, if she ever got seriously injured. Kyle had completely forgotten about it because she’d made this decision so far in the past. Part of her eighteen-year-old idealism, he supposed. Even though she had gotten married, she’d never changed that in her will. Throughout the years, had Anna hoped he would return someday to her?
Now he was twenty-nine. Never had he thought he’d be pulling emergency medical leave to see Anna. Kyle had always expected to be the one to die, not her. She was too beautiful, too filled with life, to ever die. And she almost had.
The door opened. Kyle stared at Anna. She was tall and lean like a willow, dressed in a bright red cable-knit sweater, jeans and sensible leather boots. Her ginger-colored hair lay in thick red-gold tresses around her shoulders. As Kyle gazed into her forest green eyes, his breath hitched. Anna had always reminded him of a gossamer fairy found between the pages of a book. Her face was oval, eyes wide set with a full mouth that had always curved into an infectious smile.
Now Kyle saw her once-perfectly aligned nose had been broken. When had it happened? The break didn’t ruin the soft beauty of her face, but it bothered him that she had suffered. As he hungrily sponged her into himself, he saw more unsettling signs of her injuries.
Usually, her cheeks were tinged pink, flushed with life, but not now. There was gauntness to her face, telling him she wasn’t eating well. And the dancing gold highlights that had always dappled the green depths of her eyes were missing. Anna was pale, her eyes lifeless, her full mouth compressed, as if she were still in pain. Her hand came to rest on the wooden jamb, and Kyle saw her waver just a bit. Was she dizzy? Was the head injury causing all of this?
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get home sooner,” he said simply, hands at his side. “How are you doing, Anna?”
She stared up at him, gripping the jamb with her long, slender fingers. Her voice broke and she stepped to the side, gesturing for him to enter the warmth of the foyer. “You didn’t have to come, Kyle.”
He moved past her and took the door and closed it behind him. As he stomped his feet on the thick rug, the snow fell off his boots. His heart beat hard in his chest. He ached to open his arms and sweep Anna into them. He saw the wariness in her eyes and sensed how fragile she really was. When Anna turned her head to his left, he saw a two-inch scar above her ear, the area still red. Kyle assumed it was the blow that had caused her coma.
“I wanted to come, Anna. I didn’t get the emergency message about your condition for two weeks because my team was out on a long-range patrol.” Wearily, he added, “I would have come sooner, but I couldn’t.” He watched her wrap her arms around her waist, as if chilled. Or defensive. He hated helplessness and felt it crawling through him.
“I—I didn’t really expect you to come home at all,” she offered quietly, giving him an understanding look. “I know your SEAL family comes first.”
Frustration thrummed through him. “I was out on an op, Anna. I returned three days ago from it and found out about your medical condition.” Emotion colored his deep tone. “I wanted to come home. To be here for you.” And he saw a bit of life come to her eyes over his sincere words. “You put me down as POA. Remember that? When we were eighteen? It was a long time ago.”
“Jepson reminded me of it. I’d completely forgotten about it.”
God, how badly he wanted to haul Anna into his arms. She appeared not only fragile, but more wraith than human, as if she might disappear at any moment, gone forever. His heart raged with need
