The Unexpected Hero Read online

  “Can I go shopping tomorrow with you?”

  “Huh?” In an instant, every siren in her head went off. “You want to help me choose furniture?” she asked, a polite way of phrasing her real question.

  “No,” he said. “You can choose your own.” Then he laughed. “I just want to spend a day with you. Get to know you better.”

  Not even her nagging fears could find a reason to object to that. “Sure,” she answered, wishing every cell in her body weren’t screaming at the sudden change of focus. But glad, too, because she had no doubt that if he’d kept on kissing her, she’d probably have made love to him right here and now.

  And she didn’t know anywhere near enough about him.

  His pager went off then. Hers didn’t. He glanced at the number. “I have to go to the hospital.”

  “Do you need me?”

  “If I do, I’ll call. Otherwise you stay here and rest. Sorry I can’t help with the cleanup.”

  Another surprise from a man who kept surprising her. “Don’t worry about it. Go. Go!”

  He leaned forward quickly to drop a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Then he was off, leaving her alone in an apartment that didn’t feel quite as empty any more.

  Despite all the lessons of her past, she nevertheless drew her knees up to her chin, wrapped her arms around them and smiled, savoring the memory of a couple of butterfly kisses.

  Chapter 6

  A relatively new furniture store had sprung up on the edge of town, thanks in part to the county’s growth because of the semiconductor plant. It wasn’t huge, but it had a sufficient selection and prices within reach since it didn’t carry the big-name lines, but rather items for more limited budgets.

  Krissie, Wendy and David met in the parking lot of Calendar’s Furniture.

  “Yuma begged off,” Wendy said. “It’s the despair of my marriage. He hates shopping.” She looked at David. “What makes you different?”

  He shrugged. “I need a few things too?”

  Wendy laughed and Krissie grinned.

  “Should we warn him?” Wendy asked Krissie.

  “Warn me about what?”

  “The Tate women,” Krissie told him, “can turn shopping into a safari of discovery. Be prepared. We are going to look at everything.”

  “Well, that’ll be a change for me. If I can’t stand it, I know where I’m parked.”

  Laughing, they went inside, but didn’t get two feet before they were accosted by a woman who was about forty, with a bright smile and a trim figure, and hair that was beginning to show some gray—Jenni Lachs, someone the sisters had known all their lives.

  “Hi, gals,” she said warmly. “Hey, Krissie, it’s been forever! Good to see you again.”

  “It’s good to be home, Jenni.”

  “I’ll bet it is. I never understood why people leave in the first place. What can I do for you?”

  “We’re browsing,” Wendy said. “Can we just look around?”

  “All you want. If there’s anything you need to know, just give me a shout. I promise not to breathe over your shoulders.”

  Krissie’s smile widened. “I appreciate that. I really do.”

  Jenni chuckled. “I don’t like to make decisions when I feel pressured either. It always puts my back up and makes me want to say no.”

  The three of them wandered on toward the back of the store, away from the highest-priced items.

  “So,” Wendy asked, “what exactly are you thinking about buying, Kris?”

  “Well, I’m actually happy with my air mattress for the moment. But it was kind of embarrassing yesterday not to be able to offer anyone a place to sit other than two lawn chairs.”

  “And I recognize that old card table of Mom’s,” Wendy added. “So you want to start with a dinette set? And maybe a chair or couch for the living room?”

  “That’s a good place,” Krissie agreed.

  “How’s your budget?”

  “Pretty healthy. I’ve had a lot of time to save and little enough to spend it on.”

  David spoke. “I need a table, too. I’m getting tired of eating at the counter or in my easy chair.”

  There were certainly enough tables to choose from. Everything from fancy to rock bottom. Krissie found herself drawn to a light oak table with an inlaid tile surface. The tiles pieced together a flute-playing Kokopelli figure in dark green against a sandy-looking background.

  “The trickster,” Wendy remarked.

  “I like it.” She hunted for the price tag then winced. Wendy reached for it so she could look too.

  “It’s actually not that bad,” Wendy said. “Especially when you consider you get real wood and that ceramic-tile surface. You won’t have to worry about setting something hot on it.”

  “I know, but that’s a big investment.”

  Wendy faced her. “Only if you think you’re not going to use it for years.”

  That comment drew Krissie up short. Was she still thinking that way? Did she still feel as if the call was about to come at any minute, the way it had for so long when she was in the navy?

  David spoke. “You know, Wendy, you just made me realize that’s what I’m doing, thinking like a short-timer.”

  Krissie looked at him. “Me, too. That’s probably why I hardly got any furniture when I was in Denver.”

  Wendy gave a little shake of her head. “We’ve got to get you both past that. You are planning to stay here, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Krissie said firmly. David nodded.

  “Then for heaven’s sake, pick what you like, if you can afford it.”

  It proved to be surprisingly difficult for Krissie to do that, but with Wendy’s urging she made herself. The tile-topped dining table with four matching chairs. A sofa bed that, the instant she sat on it, she knew she would love to curl up on and read. Or nap. And it was the same earthy green as the Kokopelli figure.

  By the time she finished, she had also chosen a recliner, a TV and a stand for it, and a bookcase.

  “That’s enough,” she finally said. “I’m going to have a panic attack if I keep this up.”

  Wendy regarded her sympathetically. “David seems to be having the same problem.” She pointed and Krissie saw David hesitating among the less-expensive dinettes as if he couldn’t make up his mind.

  Krissie felt an upwelling of sympathy for him. She walked over and halted beside him. “Tough, huh?”

  He nodded, then looked at her. “Do I want something cheap I can ditch later, or do I want to commit to something better? And while I’m standing here hesitating, I’m trying to argue myself out of that transitory feeling. I’ve been here over a year, after all, and I’m not having even vague thoughts of going elsewhere.”

  “I understand.”

  Their eyes met.

  “I know you do,” he said. “But you’re doing better getting past it than I am.”

  “Probably because Wendy is twisting my arm.”

  He smiled at that. “So you twist my arm. What should I get?”

  “I don’t know your taste.”

  “I’ve never really had time to develop one.”

  “Well…” She hesitated. “Which ones do you like?”

  He looked at the cheap dinette in front of him, then turned away from it. “That’s just an excuse,” he said. “An excuse to remain a transient. I actually like that one over there.”

  He pointed to a dining room table that could easily seat six or more. The wood was dark and nicely detailed.

  “That’s pretty,” she agreed. “I like it too.”

  “Do you? Even though the wood is dark?”

  “For a more formal table, that’s the way I would go. I just couldn’t put anything like that in my apartment. Do you have the space?”

  “I have a house,” he admitted. “One of the older Victorians on Front Street. I actually have a dining room.”

  “Then it would fit, wouldn’t it?”

  “Absolu
tely. In fact, it could even have an extra leaf in it and still fit just fine.”

  “So what are the arguments against it?”

  “That I still don’t have a kitchen table, which is where I’d probably eat most of the time, anyway.”

  “Hmm. What do you think of antiques?”

  “I love them. Why do you ask?”

  “Because there’s an antique store out east on the state highway.”

  “I’ve seen it.”

  “You might be able to find an old wood table there for your kitchen.” She watched him brighten.

  “I like that idea. I like it a lot. Will you come out there with me after you order your stuff?”

  So that’s exactly what she did. She placed her order and paid and then was surprised to be told it would be delivered the following afternoon.

  Then Wendy begged off the trip to the antique shop, because she needed to go on duty in a couple of hours. That left David and Krissie to make their own little caravan out the state highway to the Antiquery, as it called itself. There, in a cavernous barn, antiques and secondhand furniture mixed in disordered glee.

  “Now this is for me,” David said with satisfaction. “I used to love restoring old furniture.”

  “Yeah?” The idea intrigued Krissie. “I’ve never done it.”

  “It can be a lot of work, but it’s the kind of work that fills time and distracts you. Leaves you tired and feeling good.”

  “Maybe I should try my hand.”

  “You’re welcome to join me and see whether you like doing it. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. It’s an alternative to working myself to death at the hospital.”

  “That would be a good thing.”

  They shared a look of perfect understanding, and Krissie once again felt that tug toward him. She had to make herself look away and remind herself that she didn’t know him well enough to take such a risk.

  Not that her body was listening.

  David found a round table, about four feet in diameter that he judged to be sound, although it had apparently been painted numerous times. He picked at the paint with a thumbnail until he exposed the wood.

  “My God, this looks like cherry,” he said in amazement. “Who would paint wood like that?”

  “Fashions change. Plus, maybe the surface is damaged.”

  “Maybe. But I can fix it.”

  She liked his confidence. She also like the appreciation he showed for wood. He hunted around until he’d found four chairs also made of cherry. None of them matched, but that wasn’t as important as the wood, he told her.

  “I agree. It’ll add charm.”

  He checked the chairs carefully, determining that the joints were merely loose and the wood wasn’t cracked, so they joined the table.

  “That’s it for now,” he decided. “That’s a couple of weeks of work. Then I’ll come back for something else—maybe a chest of drawers.”

  He arranged for delivery, and then they stepped out into the warmth of a sunny summer day. The smile he gave her was boyish.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t come out here before,” he said.

  “It’s that permanence thing,” she replied. She paused at the door of her car. “You know…”

  “Yes?” he prompted finally.

  “I’m just thinking it’s weird that I’m feeling this way when I spent the first eighteen years of my life in a very permanent home. It’s not like we even considered moving across town. Dad built an addition as the family grew, but we never talked about moving.”

  He leaned back against her car and folded his arms. “You were lucky to have that. At least you have a touchstone for what it’s like to stay in one place.”

  “You don’t?”

  He shook his head. “My family might as well have been gypsies. My dad’s job took him all over the country, and I think the longest I ever spent in one place was three years.”

  “That must have been rough.”

  “I don’t know. It was just the way it was. But here I am, determined to stay, I even managed to get over the hump of buying a house, and yet it’s like living in a state of suspended animation.”

  She rested her hand on the roof of her car, thinking about it. “But I had a stable childhood and I still feel that way.”

  “Ahh, but you don’t have a lifetime of it to overcome.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “I can’t even bring myself to hang a picture. That means putting a nail hole in a wall.”

  “Do you have pictures to hang?”

  “I bought a few.”

  She grinned. “Then let’s go hang them right now.”

  “Well, I’ve been excusing myself because I need to paint first.”

  She leaned toward him, lifting her eyebrows. “I sense resistance. What’s it going to be? The paint store or hanging the pictures?”

  “This afternoon?”

  “That’s what I meant.”

  “You’re not pushy or anything.”

  She gave a laugh. “Let’s put it this way—I can’t paint my apartment. And I love to paint.”

  He pulled his keys out of his pocket and tossed them in the air once, catching them. “Decisions, decisions. Okay, paint store it is. Maybe you can give me some confidence in color choices.”

  “You’re on!”

  A couple of hours later, they arrived at his house with gallons of paint, brushes, rollers, drop cloths…everything necessary to get to work. Krissie helped David lug it all into his garage, a detached building that had seen better days, then she put her hands on her hips and looked around.

  The exterior of the house had been recently painted and looked as neat as a pin.

  “So you have been working around here,” she observed.

  “Not really. The place was freshly painted just before I bought it. Wait till you see the inside. That’s where all the work needs doing.”

  They entered through the side door, through an empty mudroom, and directly into the kitchen. The appliances were all new, but that was the best she could say for the room. Too few cabinets, most of them old and battered, countertops that had long since seen better days, linoleum that was chipped and cracked.

  “Did you buy a house or a project?” she asked him.

  “A project. I had all kinds of plans.”

  “And?”

  “Then I discovered that being here alone working wasn’t enough. I needed more distraction.”

  Krissie nodded, understanding. “Well, I’ll help you as much as you want. I could use some distraction, too.”

  “Thanks. That would make it fun.”

  “So, where do you want to start?”

  “Right here, in this room.” He walked over to a counter and ran his hand over it. “First the painting, I think. Once that’s done, I can safely move on to the cabinetry and the flooring.”

  “Sounds like a plan. How is the rest of the house?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  He took her on the tour. Just as he had said, in his living room he had an easy chair, a good reading light and a TV, but nothing else. The old fireplace at one end looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. “I need to get it inspected and cleaned, before I light a fire,” he explained.

  “You definitely do. Or maybe even closed off, depending on how much energy you want to conserve.”

  “I’ve debated that. Charm versus sense.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s just a phony argument to keep me from doing anything.”

  She paused and looked at him. “We’re a couple of messes.”

  “Sometimes.”

  The dining room was indeed big enough for the table he’d liked, but it was also wallpapered and some of the paper was peeling. “This is going to be a major job,” he remarked.

  The bathrooms had been modernized within recent memory, so they didn’t require any immediate attention. There were three bedrooms upstairs, two empty and then his.

  Krissie stood on the threshold, looking at his bed, a basic queen-sized bed with
neither headboard nor footboard. An old chest of drawers stood against one wall, and the closet didn’t have doors. Here, too, sagging wallpaper cried out for attention.

  She spoke. “It’s hard to believe this house got so little attention from the last owners.”

  “I have a theory about that.”

  She looked at him.

  “People get used to things, especially when they happen slowly. Redecorating also takes a lot of money they probably didn’t have.”

  “You sure have your hands full.”

  “I figure five years to whip this place into shape.”

  “If you get started.”

  He laughed. “If I get started. But you’ve kind of pushed me into that.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Well, we’re not going to start today, anyway. I have to get to the hospital in a couple of hours. My turn for rounds.”

  Krissie’s stomach sank as she realized that she was facing another evening by herself. But even as she felt herself sinking, she fought to stiffen her spine. Reality was that thing you had to deal with, like it or not.

  David astonished her, reaching out to cup her cheek gently. At once, she caught her breath and felt that sizzle again. But his mind was on other things.

  “I know it’s hard, but it gets better,” he said firmly. “I can promise, because I have fewer down times now than a year ago.”

  She nodded, and felt as if he’d torn part of her away when he dropped his hand. “Yeah,” she said after a moment. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.” Then she turned and walked out of the room, down the stairs and out to her car.

  Sometimes, she thought, you had to face the devil alone.

  David could see that Krissie left unhappy, but he didn’t know what the hell to do about it. The simple fact was, they were racing too close too fast, clinging because they had a shared nightmare and not for any other good reason. He wanted desperately to help her, because despite his attacks of impatience, he had a helpful nature. Why else had he chosen medicine, with its many heartbreaks, as his life?

  But he also knew himself, and knew that he was in no condition to really help Krissie. He couldn’t even help himself.

  Frustration, all too familiar, rose in him, and he toyed briefly with the idea of punching his fist through a wall. But he only toyed with the idea, because he’d long ago learned that you couldn’t deal that way with the mental and emotional pressure cooker that war left in its wake. All you did was reinforce your own frustration and anger.