Читать книгу Protecting the Widow's Heart - Lorraine Beatty - Страница 12

Chapter Four

No answers. Not for him or for Ginger. The look in her green eyes when she’d learned he was a cop burned into his memory, and stirred an old sadness. She’d never look at him the same way again. He couldn’t blame her. After what she’d experienced. Her situation only pointed up why he’d never married. No wife should have to live with that kind of fear or that kind of tragedy.

He rolled over, making the old bed groan and creak in protest. Her fingers had felt so delicate and small in his hand. He’d felt them tremble as she’d told her story. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her close, chase the fear away and reassure her that she was safe.

There was something special about Ginger Sloan. She’d gotten under his skin. She reminded him of the magnolia trees that stood on the property. Strong. Graceful. Her eyes were the same dark green as the shiny leaves. Her creamy complexion rivaled the white flowers with their flawless petals. Her dark auburn hair had streaks of the cinnamon color of the underside of the leaves, soft and rich. She was strong, beautiful and brave. Enduring. Somehow she’d managed to overcome the adversity in her life all alone.

But she was filled with fear, and she didn’t have to be if she’d only allow the Lord to carry her burdens. It didn’t take much to see that her troubles had caused a crisis in her faith. Maybe he could help her see that the Lord was on her side, not against her. He stretched out on his back, sending up a prayer for her comfort as he drifted off to sleep.

Gunshots.

Ty sat up in bed, searching the darkness for an intruder. He was alone. In the boathouse. Dragging a shaking hand over his damp face, he sucked in a few calming breaths. Nightmare. He lay back down, staring at the ceiling. It had been weeks since he’d had one. He’d hoped he’d finally gotten past that part. This one had been different. A new image had appeared. The men with guns were still there, appearing out of nowhere, firing at him. He’d felt the impact as the bullets had seared his body. Seen Pete lying on the ground, but this time, Ginger and EJ had been there, and the gun had been trained on them. He’d tried to warn them, to place himself in front of the gunman, but he hadn’t been able to move—hadn’t been able to force sounds from his throat. He’d seen the bullet leave the barrel—and then he’d awakened.

He couldn’t continue like this. Living with the questions. The doubt. The guilt. He needed answers, and he was tired of waiting for the Lord to shine a light on his path.

* * *

Ginger hugged the warm cup of coffee between her palms, staring into the empty fireplace replaying once again the scene from last night. Ty had been shot. In the line of duty. Duty as a cop. Her dreams had been rife with frightening images of guns and policemen, and John smiling in his uniform. But when she’d looked closer, it hadn’t been her husband but Ty, his hand to his neck, falling to the ground.

She blinked the images away. She’d learned the hard way that dwelling on those thoughts only made things worse and plunged her mood into a dark place. When she and Elliot had set out on their journey to her mother in Arizona, she’d vowed to bury those memories forever and never look at them again. It had worked until she’d landed here at Shiloh Lake in a cabin owned by a wounded cop. A very handsome and kind cop. She was tempted to accept his offer of plane tickets. Fly to Mom’s and cut her losses. If the job her mom mentioned was a sure thing, she would take him up on his offer. But it wasn’t. It was only the promise of an interview. But Ty’s offer meant going into debt again. Pride was all she had left at the moment. Besides, it was an emotion she understood. Either she took Ty’s offer and went further in debt to him, or she stayed and battled her own way out of this mess. Battling was something she understood. Indebtedness was a place she never wanted to revisit.

She stood and moved to the kitchen to refill her cup, but a knock on the cabin door turned her around. Ty. Through the glass panes she had a clear view, and the sight made her mouth suddenly dry. He was dressed in a suit and tie, ready for church. The perfectly fitted dark gray jacket emphasized his broad shoulders, and the crisp white shirt brought out his tanned skin. She opened the door, putting a smile on her face. He really was easy on the eyes. “Coffee is ready.”

He didn’t smile back. Her throat tightened. He looked serious, his blue eyes dark, his mouth held in a firm line.

“No, thanks. I’ll grab some at church. I just wanted to see if you and EJ are still coming with me to my folks for dinner.”

She inhaled a deep breath, then wished she hadn’t because she breathed in the tangy scent of his aftershave. This was a different side of him. Clean-shaven, hair damp and combed neatly to one side. It grazed the edges of his collar in the back and waved slightly over his forehead. She had a sudden desire to brush it back and test the feel of it.

Dinner. She had struggled all night with that question, alternating between wanting to go and wanting to hide in the cabin. “Well, I...”

“Ty!” Elliot darted around her and stopped, staring up at Ty.

“Hey, EJ.”

Ty’s grim expression dissolved when he looked at Elliot. His blue eyes sparked, his smile widened and softened the edges of his mouth. The transformation was heart-stopping.