Читать книгу The Forest Ranger's Return - Leigh Bale - Страница 10
ОглавлениеChapter One
Dallin Savatch breathed deep of the cool morning air. Stepping off the wraparound porch at Sunrise Ranch, he glanced at the damp dirt road surrounded by fields of newly sprouting alfalfa. Dark shadows clung to the jagged peaks of the McClellan Mountains, a hint of sunlight brightening the eastern sky. All was quiet; no one else was up yet. A whispering breeze carried the tangy scent of sage, horses and rain. Though the May weather had been unseasonably warm, a spring storm had struck in the middle of the night, awakening Dal with a clap of thunder. His left leg ached and he wasn’t able to get back to sleep.
Phantom pain, his doctor called it.
That didn’t prevent him from taking his morning run. Even at age thirty-six, nothing kept him from exercising his legs. He feared the wheelchair and losing his independence too much. Feared becoming less of a man than he already was.
He walked across the graveled driveway, then leaned against the hitching rail next to the barn. Wrapping his fingers around the coarse wood, he stretched his body for several minutes. The exercise warmed up his stiff muscles and relaxed the tight tendons.
Magpie, a gentle gray mare who didn’t mind little kids tugging on her mane, stood inside the corral. She lifted her head over the rail fence and snuffled at him.
“Sorry, girl. No sugar cubes this early in the morning.” Dal rubbed her between the ears. Then he turned and jogged toward the main road, picking up speed as he headed toward town, five miles away. He settled into an easy rhythm, his body moving well. Arms pumping. Blood pounding against his temples. Inhaling oxygen into his lungs.
He got his second wind just as he passed the turnoff to Secret Valley. His first-mile marker, where the graveled road turned into asphalt. His breathing came in even exhales. He was moving strong. Feeling invincible. But he knew from experience that was an illusion. Life was fragile, the human body easily broken.
He reached the main road, the sole of his running shoe pounding against the pavement. Another two miles and he’d turn back toward home. A rivulet of sweat tickled between his shoulder blades. He liked this quiet time when he jogged six miles before most people even started their day. He liked being alone to think about the work he had ahead of him back at the ranch. Horses to feed, stalls to muck out, bridles to repair, wild mustangs to train. Running not only cleared his head but also kept him in excellent condition. Something he valued more than anything else, except his relationship with God.
His gaze skimmed the fertile fields. A thin creek wound its lazy path through the valley and widened as it ran parallel to the road. Not once had he regretted his decision to move to Stokely, Nevada, the small ranching town where Cade Baldwin, his best friend, had settled and started a family of his own. Though Dal frequently felt like an intruder, the Baldwins were the closest thing to a family he would ever have, and he loved them dearly.
He focused on the terrain in front of him. Through the thick cluster of cattails, he caught a glimpse of Black Angus cattle nestled among the green pasture, chewing their cud. Soon they’d be up foraging for grass.
And then he spied a woman. Running toward him through the field on the opposite side of the stream. Through the tall willows, he could just make out the top half of her white jogging shirt and blue shorts. She pumped her bare arms hard as she ran. Sunlight gleamed against her long chestnut ponytail. Even from this distance, Dal caught the unwavering glint in her eyes. The lock-jawed determination to push herself hard.
Obviously a morning runner like him.
She glanced his way and waved. He lifted his hand in a halfhearted acknowledgment. Ever since he’d returned from the war in Afghanistan, he’d avoided women. His fiancée had broken off their engagement, and he couldn’t really blame her. He no longer had much to offer a woman.
“Oww!” The stranger crumpled to the ground, disappearing from view.
Dal’s mouth dropped open in surprise. She’d gone down! Maybe needed his help.
Leaving the road, he stepped down the graveled incline. He found a narrow spot in the creek where he could cross without wading through the muddy water. Gripping branches of willows, he pulled himself up the embankment. As he trotted toward the spot where he’d seen her fall, he called out, “You okay, ma’am?”
A thin wail came from the tall meadow grass. He found her lying on her side as she clutched her right ankle tight against her chest. She clenched her eyes closed and bit her bottom lip, fighting off a spasm of pain.
“Hey, you all right?” He stooped over her, giving her time to catch her breath. Hoping it wasn’t serious.
She jerked her head around and gasped in surprise. “You... You’re...”
She didn’t finish her sentence, her gaze lowering to his legs. She sucked in a harsh breath, no doubt caught off guard by his prosthesis and the absence of his left leg. He got this a lot, though he never got used to it. It was an automatic response for people to stare at his legs, but he hated it with every fiber of his being.
Correction. One leg. He was an amputee above his left knee. This morning, he wore his black J-shaped running prosthesis made out of flexible carbon fibers. He wore a regular C-Leg prosthesis for walking, but he loved and wore the J-Leg whenever he could. To the point that his handicap was no longer a handicap. Not if you considered the two gold medals he’d won in the Paralympics years earlier.
He braced himself as her gaze surfed past his running shorts to his good leg, a long, muscular limb dusted by a smattering of dark hair. He ignored her wince of sympathy.
“I... Yes, I’m fine. The pain is subsiding,” she said.
As she pushed herself into a sitting position, he studied her face. Something familiar about her tugged at his memory. The tilt of her head. The shape of her chin and the warm, golden color of her eyes.
And then recognition struck him like a jolt of electricity. In spite of the two decades that had passed, he knew her.
Julie Granger.
A man just didn’t forget the first girl he ever kissed.
She made a pretense of brushing dirt off her arms and knees. Staring at the ground. Staring at the trees. Staring anywhere but at him.
Didn’t she recognize him, too? Maybe she was so distracted by his legs that she hadn’t taken a good enough look at his face.
After all these years, he should be used to this by now. But he wasn’t. Though he felt grateful to be able to walk and run again, the war had taken almost everything from him.
His leg. His fiancée. And almost his self-respect.
She peeled back the cuff of her white sock and rubbed her ankle. The movement commanded his gaze. Nice, trim ankles and shapely calves. He was still a man after all, and could appreciate a pair of pretty legs.
“May I?” He reached out a hand and she nodded.
He pressed his fingers gently against her bones, testing the structure for damage. Bloody abrasions scuffed her smooth skin, but he didn’t have access to a first-aid kit right then. A battery of questions bludgeoned his mind. Where had she been all these years? How had life treated her? Was she married with a passel of kids? And why had she abandoned him so long ago?
“Nothing broken. You’ve probably just got a nasty sprain,” he said.
Bracing her hands behind her, she leaned back and looked at him with a mix of dread and amazement. But not a smidgeon of recognition.
His heart rate ratcheted up several notches, and he felt suddenly protective of her. Just like the night her parents were killed. Only now he wasn’t a young, powerless kid who couldn’t stop Social Services from taking her away.
She shook her head with disgust. “This was so stupid of me. I took my eyes off my path and stepped in that hole over there.”
She pointed at a rather deep gopher hole camouflaged by clumps of bleached grass.
“It’s probably not good to run in the fields. They’re very bumpy and hard on the legs,” he said.
He wanted to tell her who he was, but something held him back. Something he didn’t understand. Of all the people in the world, he hated for Julie to see him like this. One legged. No longer whole. But she’d turned her back on him long ago, and his situation would probably be of little importance to her now.
“How’d you lose your leg?” she asked.
He blinked, taken aback by her blunt question. But Julie had always been like that. Never mean or cruel. She’d just spoken her mind. At least until she’d disappeared from his life.
As if realizing her mistake, her face flushed. “I’m sorry. That was rude. It’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s okay. Most people pretend they don’t notice my missing leg. I lost it in Afghanistan.” But her candor still surprised him. A lot. And very few people surprised him these days.
“You’re in the military?” She sat forward again, looking interested.
“Not anymore. I’m a marine.” He tightened his mouth, not wanting to disclose too much about himself. To anyone. Especially a girl he’d loved when he was fifteen years old and too young to know anything about the world.
“Ah, well, thank you for your service to our country. And I’m so sorry for your loss.”
He caught the tone of sincerity in her soft voice. No pity, just gratitude.
She braced herself to stand, and he reached out an arm. “Here, let me help you.”
She eyed him, looking skeptical. Then, without a word, she accepted his offer, sliding her fingers against his.
Trusting him.
The warmth of her soft skin zinged through his arm. He tightened his grip and pulled her up, then let her go and stepped back.
“You think you can walk? Or should I call someone for you? A husband, maybe...?”
“No, I’ve never been married,” she said.
Alone, just like him.
Surely he imagined the subtle throb of regret in her voice. And yet, a single man of his age was probably more sensitive to other people in the same predicament. But he was still amazed that she didn’t seem to remember him.
“I’ll get my truck and drive you home,” he offered.
She glanced at his amputated leg again, as though assessing his abilities. He knew what she was thinking. They were out in the middle of nowhere. How could he get his truck and drive her home with only one leg?
He jabbed a thumb toward the vicinity of Sunrise Ranch, which was now shrouded behind an edge of mountains. “I don’t live far from here. You’d only have to wait a few minutes.”
His gaze skimmed past the white stripe along her blue runner’s shorts to her scratched knees. A streak of dirt marred the edge of her chin, and he longed to brush it away. To touch her and make sure she was real. He hated being perceived as weak, especially by a girl from his past.
Correction. Woman. She wasn’t a child anymore. And neither was he.
“Um, no. I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I can walk home.”
She applied slight pressure to her ankle, testing to see if it could bear her weight. As she took a few limping steps, her face immediately contorted with pain. He knew she couldn’t walk home. Not like this.
“It’s three miles into town. You’re gonna have to let me help you. Don’t worry, it’s what I do.” He forced a smile.
Her beautiful eyes locked with his, filled with doubt. “What do you do?”
“I help people. I always have.” But he hadn’t been able to help her twenty years ago. In so many words, he’d asked her to trust him. Again. And yet, he’d failed her once. He’d been too young to stop her from being taken away. To protect her from being hurt by people she didn’t even know. But now he was a grown man. Things were different. Being a protector was in his blood. It was what had driven him to become a U.S. Marine. What had driven him to save Cade Baldwin’s life in Afghanistan. And what drove him now to train horses and work with amputee kids.
Because they needed him. And it felt good to be needed.
“Okay, thank you.” And then she smiled. A stunning reminder of who she was. The expression lit up her entire face, curved her generous lips and crinkled the slim bridge of her nose. If he’d had any doubts before, he lost them now. This was Julie Granger.
His first love.
He took a deep breath, then thrust his hand out in greeting. “I’m Dallin Savatch. Most people call me Dal.”
He watched her face carefully, waiting for recognition to fill her eyes. Nothing. Not even a glimmer.
Instead, she dragged her gaze down to his fingers. As though hesitant to touch him. He waited for her shiver of disgust. He’d seen it before, time and time again, with other people who couldn’t get past his missing leg. But that shiver didn’t come. Not this time.
She clasped his fingers tight and shook his hand. “My name is Julie Granger. I’m sorry to inconvenience you like this, but I really appreciate it.”
So. She didn’t know him. And he couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. How could she forget him so easily? Was her memory lapse selective or real?
He decided to let it pass. To pretend he hadn’t been hurt when she’d stopped answering his letters and returning his phone calls. He’d tried to tell himself she’d been nothing more than a high school crush, but that never stuck. He’d loved her deeply, but she no longer felt the same.
“No problem.” He let go a bit too fast. Trying to put some distance between them. Trying not to feel angry by her presence. He wished she weren’t so lovely. A woman who obviously liked running as much as he did. If that were possible.
“Why don’t you sit over here while I hurry home and get my truck? Then I can drive you into town to Cade’s office.” He pointed at a soft grassy knoll at the side of the road beneath the spreading limbs of a tall cottonwood.
“Cade?” Her knees visibly wobbled as she took a step toward the inviting spot. He reached for her arm, and she didn’t refuse.
“Cade Baldwin. My partner. He’s the doctor in town.”
“A doctor won’t be necessary,” she said. “Are you a doctor, too?”
“No, no. Cade’s the doctor. We were in the Marine Corps together. Now we’re partners out at Sunrise Ranch. We pooled our resources and work together there. I mostly just handle the horses.”
He’d always been a horseman, even when they were kids and his widowed mom had worked as a cook on a ranch in Oklahoma.
He expected Julie’s doubtful stare directed toward his prosthesis, but she didn’t even flinch. Most amputees didn’t train horses, much less wild mustangs. But he did. And he was good at it, too. He refused to let his missing limb get in the way of his work. The horses didn’t judge him. They didn’t care if he only had one leg. And when he was with them, he could forget the disability he’d worked so hard to overcome.
The way Julie had forgotten him.
One of her brows arched upward in recognition. “Ah! You’re from the horse camp for amputee kids I’ve been hearing about. I believe the previous forest ranger married the owner.”
He nodded, surprised that she knew so much about them. “That’s right. In fact, the horse camp was the ranger’s idea. Cade’s in charge of physical therapy and special programs for the kids. His wife, Lyn, pays the bills, coordinates the meals, takes care of her two children and everything else. Of course, we have other staff who work at the place, too.”
“It sounds amazing,” she agreed. “I’ve heard a lot about Lyn Baldwin since I got into town. I’m not surprised she retired as the forest ranger once she had her second child. No doubt she has plenty to keep her busy out at your ranch.”
“She is amazing, but why have you heard about her?”
“I’m the new forest ranger.”
Dawning flooded Dal’s dazed brain. Lyn had told him a new ranger was coming in last week, but he’d expected a man, not Julie. Not a girl he’d never forgotten in all these long, painful years.
“I just moved here last week,” she continued. “I’m hoping to visit Lyn soon, to see if she can bring me up to speed on several issues I’ll be dealing with.”
He nodded and released her hand as she sat down. Currents of energy zigzagged up his arm, reaching clear to his shoulder blade. He rubbed his biceps, hoping the feeling would ease soon.
It didn’t.
“I’m sure Lyn would be glad to help you out,” he said. “Just give her a call. Now, you wait right here and I’ll go get my truck.”
Without another word, he whirled around and dashed away, moving swiftly over the dirt road. Eager to get away from Julie’s observant gaze.
He ran with no limp whatsoever. An amazing task, considering the rocky surface he’d chosen to jog on. But he’d gotten used to it, navigating the uneven fields and even hiking in the mountains like a man with two normal legs. He had a prosthesis for almost every activity, and that made his way of life possible.
And in that moment, Dal wished things could be different somehow. He’d paid a high price to save Cade’s life in Afghanistan, and he’d gladly pay it again. He just wished he could have kept both his legs in the process. But Dal had long ago reconciled himself to the fact that life would never be the same. Not for him and Julie. Not ever again.
* * *
Julie stared at the tall man’s broad shoulders as he hopped across the stream and returned to the main road. Her breath stuttered as she watched him move as gracefully as a man with two solid legs. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she never would have believed Dal Savatch was an amputee.
She never should have decided to jog in the grassy fields, but she’d wanted to see what kinds of vegetation grew along the creek bed. To see what kinds of fish swam in the stream. And to assess if the area was being overgrazed. As the new forest ranger, it was her job.
She’d been concentrating on her task when she’d looked up at the road paralleling the creek and seen the most handsome man running toward her. Through the thick branches of willows, she’d caught glimpses of his rugged face. The blunt shape of his jaw. The determined lines carved around his mouth. The muscular torso and strong arms moving with his fast stride.
Dal Savatch. The love of her life. Or, at least, that was what she’d thought when she was fifteen. Before her parents had been killed in a horrible car crash. Before she’d been yanked out of her home and slapped into foster care.
When the vegetation had given way, she’d seen Dal’s legs. The curving prosthesis he wore where his left leg should have been. An amputee, running smooth and fast along a dirt road that even challenged Julie’s experienced stride.
Before she could catch herself, she’d stepped in a hole and gone down. Road rash never hurt as much as it did when someone else witnessed your fall. Her shocked attention had been on the man, not the rough terrain in front of her. Now she felt like a fool. She had twisted her ankle hard and she blinked to clear the sudden tears of pain, highly aware of the man who’d crossed the stream and come to her rescue.
Oh, Dal. What he must have suffered in losing his leg. It hurt her to see him like this. To think of the pain he must have gone through. She wasn’t surprised he’d overcome such adversity. Dal never was a quitter. Never gave up on anything he wanted.
Never stopped writing or calling her, until she’d moved so often his letters could no longer find her.
Julie groaned, conscious of the rings of sweat on her jogging shirt. Reaching up, she patted her damp hair and regretted not putting on any makeup that morning. Dal had just gotten a good look at her, but he didn’t recognize her. Didn’t remember the sweet kiss they’d shared on the front porch of her childhood home the very night her parents had died.
Oh, well. Maybe it was for the best. At the age of thirty-five, Julie had long ago given up on marriage and family. She was what her last foster mom had called an old maid. But she couldn’t help that she loved her career and liked being alone.
Most of the time.
Having lost her parents, she’d decided not to regret what she’d never really known. And yet, there were times when she’d seen other women in the grocery store, pushing their kids around in shopping carts. Hugging their husbands. Their laughter ringing through the air. And then a pang of regret would rip through Julie’s heart, reminding her of what she’d never have for her very own.
A family. Someone who loved and needed her. Someone who cared if she lived or died.
She settled her back against the strong tree trunk and waited for Dal. The throbbing in her ankle had eased by the time the sound of an engine filled the air. She wrenched her head around. An old blue pickup truck rumbled down the dirt road, heading toward her. Dal sat in the driver’s seat wearing a battered cowboy hat. He looked her way, a worried frown tugging at his handsome mouth and brows.
Worried for her?
He pulled the truck over and stepped out. A graceful movement that left her impressed by his mastery of the prosthesis. An embarrassing reminder that she was the one needing his assistance, not the other way around.
He rushed over to help her stand. Glancing up, her gaze locked with his. His features hadn’t changed much since they were kids, but he’d grown taller and filled out in the shoulders, chest and arms.
As she stared into his hazel eyes, several pounding moments followed when he let down his guard. And in those few seconds, she read a lot in those brown-green depths. She saw the hurt he kept locked inside. The solemn sadness. The uncertainty. But no recognition. Then his eyes clouded over. A guarded look that told her he’d do the right thing no matter what, but he was scared.
Of her.
A foolish notion, surely. She was imagining things.
As he helped her hobble over to the passenger side of his truck, she tried not to lean against his solid warmth. Tried not to add any extra burden to his missing leg.
“I’m strong. You can lean on me.” He spoke low, his gentle tone encouraging her to trust him.
She almost breathed a huge sigh of relief. For so long, she’d depended on no one but herself. She’d wanted to stay close to Dal, but with her orphaned status, her life had spiraled out of her control. Their separation was for the best.
She should act normal around this anything-but-normal man. After all, she didn’t know him anymore. They were basically strangers. But in her mind, she couldn’t help thinking that she’d never met another man like him, with or without legs.
Pulling the door open, he helped her inside and waited patiently while she snapped on her seat belt. Her skin still tingled where he’d touched her arms.
His gaze lowered to her ankle and his expression softened. “It doesn’t look too swollen.”
“No, it’ll be fine.” And she knew the words were true. If Dal could recover from losing a leg, then she could surely survive a wrenched ankle.
He closed the door and went around to the driver’s side. The cab of the truck smelled of peppermint. An old vehicle with a leather bench seat. A classic truck that must be at least fifty years old. She couldn’t help wondering about his life and the man he’d become. Did he still like pistachio ice cream? Was he still a whiz at calculus? Was he married with kids of his own?
She longed to ask, but didn’t dare. Guilt nibbled at her conscience for the anguish she must have caused when she’d stopped writing to him. It was better to forget.
She watched with detached interest as he got in and started the engine. He shifted the gears and drove slow and steady over the dirt road leading into town.
“Nice truck,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“What year?”
“Nineteen-sixty. I rebuilt the engine myself. It’s therapeutic.”
“I really appreciate your help,” she said, feeling out of place. Feeling as if she should remind him of who she was. But what good would that do? Chatting about a past she’d rather forget wouldn’t be much fun. Above all else, she didn’t want his pity. She just wanted to forget what she’d been through.
“How long have you been running?” he asked, staring straight ahead as he used his right foot to press the gas and brake pedals, as needed.
“Since I was fifteen, when my parents died and I went into foster care.” She hadn’t meant to give him such a big reminder. The words had just slipped out before she could call them back. But this disconcerting man had caught her off guard. She couldn’t help wondering if the clues would remind him of who she was. She didn’t want to talk about her life, a habit she’d acquired over the years to protect herself from being hurt again. With good reason.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.
“How about you? When did you start running?”
“I guess I’ve always been a runner,” he said. “First in high school when I played football and ran track, then as a marine. When I returned from the war, I ran to rehabilitate myself. To keep myself independent and out of a wheelchair.” He clamped his mouth shut, as though he also regretted confiding so much.
Obviously she wasn’t the only one with a painful past.
“I can understand your desire for independence,” she said. “I heard about a 5K race they’re holding here in the valley the latter part of August and thought I’d participate, as long as my ankle doesn’t stop me. A race motivates me to get up early and run every morning. It also keeps me in shape in case I’m called out on a wildfire this summer.”
He glanced her way, his brown-green eyes skimming over her bare calves and running shoes. “Yeah, I’ve already entered that race myself.”
“Is that right? I can’t say I’m surprised.” Tilting her head, she chuckled. They still had things in common, but the reasons why they both ran intrigued her more than the running itself. Because, truth be told, Julie ran for the isolation of it. The solitude and healing. She’d been by herself so long that she didn’t know anything else. And she’d never met a person she thought might fully understand her deeply buried motives.
Until now.
“Who are you running for?” she asked.
Or from? That was what she really wanted to know.
He tilted his head in question. “What do you mean?”
“Who’s your sponsor?”
“Ah! Sunrise Ranch, of course. The amputee kids.”
“Of course.”
“And who’s your sponsor?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t have one yet. I could use the Forest Service, but that might be viewed as a conflict of interest.”
“Why?”
“Some people might not like the idea of a government agency sponsoring the new forest ranger. Some folks get touchy about things like that.”
“Well, they shouldn’t.”
“I agree.”
Within minutes, he pulled into the driveway of her white Forest Service house, located two blocks north of Main Street. From what her new range assistant had told her, Lyn Baldwin had lived here with her amputee daughter until she’d married Cade Baldwin and moved out to Sunrise Ranch.
Julie hadn’t needed to give Dal directions to her house. Not surprising in such a small town. Throughout her career, she’d been transferred quite a bit and had worked hard for this promotion as a forest ranger. Now she hoped to put down roots. She might never be a wife and mother, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t become involved in her community.
A town that included Dal Savatch.
As he helped her amble up the path to her front porch, she noticed that the pain in her ankle was almost gone. Thank goodness. She had a full day of work ahead of her. With starting a brand-new job, she didn’t need a throbbing ankle to keep her from perusing all the timber and watershed reports sitting on her desk.
Dal took her key from her hand and inserted it in the lock. He opened the door, pushing it wide. He didn’t come inside, but hesitated until she turned to face him. And then she realized that several minutes had passed in which she’d forgotten he was an amputee. She’d been so engrossed in her own discomfort that she hadn’t noticed how he’d helped her up the front steps. Somehow, this man made her forget he was handicapped.
A flood of memories from her childhood surged through her mind. Dal pushing her on the tire swing in her backyard. Helping her move sprinkler pipes in her father’s cornfield. Sitting with his arm around her shoulders as they rode the school bus each morning. In her mind, she couldn’t think of him as anything but confident, whole and in control.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked.
“Yes, thanks for everything. I really appreciate it.”
He lifted one strong hand and rested it against the threshold, his brows crinkled with thought. “Maybe once your leg is feeling better, we could run together. In the mornings. To prepare for the race. It might be safer if you have a running partner.”
His face flushed and he stepped back. She realized that he was embarrassed by the offer. Maybe he even regretted it.
She hesitated, liking this idea. And why not? Dal Savatch was nice enough. She didn’t have any friends in town. Not yet. Maybe spending time with this man from her past might help alleviate the hollow loneliness that had taken up residence within her heart.
“I’d like that very much,” she said.
Then she thought better of it. Dal Savatch was too likable. Too easy to talk to. Renewing their relationship could backfire on her. And then what?
“I’ll see you later.” He hurried down the steps, as though he wanted to escape.
Before she could change her mind.
As he strode gracefully back to his truck, she stared at his wide shoulders. No second thoughts. Not now.
Without another word, she went inside and closed the door. An empty void settled inside her chest. As she hobbled down the hallway to her bedroom, she knew she’d be late getting in to work that morning. She also knew she’d see Dal Savatch again sometime soon. Perhaps tomorrow morning. Or the next. And somehow that was okay for now. It had taken years for her to process her grief. Her psychologist had taught her not to think about the past or worry about the future. And she wouldn’t. Because she and Dal Savatch could never be anything more than friends.
