Jillian Hart

A Soldier for Christmas


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you want me to pick you up?”

      She grabbed one last fry from the tub before she twisted off the bench, graceful and lovely. She backed away, studying him through her long lashes with those big stormy-blue eyes. “The Gray Stone Church on the corner of Glenrose and Cherry Lane. Meet me there. Ten o’clock sharp.”

      “Meet you there? No, I should pick you up.”

      “It’s not a date, remember?”

      Have it your way, pretty lady. He watched her jog away, her hair brushing the back of her shoulders and swinging in time with her gait.

      Mitch could only stare, unable to move, waiting as she crossed the street. She was like a vision, awash with light. He remained vigilant until she reached the storefront and disappeared inside.

      You’re heading to Afghanistan in six weeks, he thought, hardly noticing the crinkling sound the food sacks made when he bunched them and tossed them into the garbage can. What he did was dangerous. He’d learned the value of starting each day without regrets.

      If he didn’t make the most of this second chance to get to know Kelly, wherever that path might lead, he’d regret it. Six months from now, he’d be shivering on some rock in the border mountains of Afghanistan or belly down on a dune in the Middle East, and he didn’t want to be wondering what if.

      It wasn’t only exhaustion weighing her down as she climbed the flight of steps to her apartment. Not the late hour or the dark shadows that fell from the whispering poplars. She felt as if the past clung to her with a tenacious grip tonight, like the stars to the black velvet sky.

      Kelly sorted through her key ring as she climbed the outside stairs that brought her to her third-story landing.

      In the end, good things happen to good people. I believe that. Katherine’s words. They were part of what troubled her tonight and made the shadows so dark, the quiet so deep. Those words haunted her last steps and followed her into the soft pool of illumination from the light over her door. She fitted her key into the deadbolt and turned it with a click. The metallic sound seemed to echo in the chambers of her heart.

      Everyone she’d ever depended on had let her down, so it was hard to believe in good things. God never promised that life would be easy or fair. A heart can be broken too much. And she’d learned that every time a heart is broken, it is never the same again.

      She withdrew the key and inserted it into the doorknob, turning the knob and shouldering open the door. Her heavy backpack clunked against the door as she stepped through the fall of porch light and into the dark quiet of the foyer.

      Mitch had stirred up some of this uneasiness, too. What a great guy. At least he was only interested in a friendship. How could it be anything else, with him leaving for California and beyond?

      She could relax and not worry about him leaving—it was a given. She knew what to expect.

      The luminous numbers of her stove’s clock cast a green glow bright enough to see by as she pushed the door shut behind her, turned the deadbolt and slipped her keys onto the small table between the door and the hall closet. Her pack made a thump when she set it on the floor.

      Hot, stifling air greeted her thanks to keeping off the air conditioning. She headed straight for the living room and unlocked the wide window. Cooler air felt heavenly against her overheated skin. She stood for a moment letting the breeze fan over her. Outside the poplars cast dancing shadows from the streetlights and rustled cheerfully. She pressed her hot forehead to the cooler glass, breathed in the fresh night air and let her feelings and thoughts settle.

      Mitch. Just thinking of him brought a smile to her face. He was back at his base by now. This was going to be different—interesting, but different—to have him for a friend.

      She was actually looking forward to Sunday.

      Chapter Four

      Mitch scanned the light-veiled sanctuary, crowded with worshippers and loud with their conversations, searching for Kelly. To find her, he only had to follow the sunshine as it slanted through the glittering panels of stained glass.

      Kelly. When he saw her, brushed with golden light and goodness, his heartbeat skipped. The sanctuary, full of light and sound and families getting settled, faded away and only the silence remained. She was sitting in a pew near the middle, her head bowed as if reading.

      She hadn’t noticed him yet, so he took a moment just to drink in the sight of her. Her honey-gold hair was unbound and framed her heart-shaped face. The lavender summer dress she wore shaped her delicate shoulders and fell in a complimentary sweep to her knees. A book bag slumped on the bench beside her. Matching purple flats hugged her slim feet.

      He liked the way she looked, so pure and bright. She made a lovely picture, sitting so straight, with her Bible open on her lap. It wasn’t too much of a hardship to look at her. He eased into the row and onto the pew beside her.

      She jumped, and her Bible tumbled onto the polished wood bench between them. “Mitch! You snuck up on me!”

      “Hey, I’m no sneak.”

      “Then what do you call that? You didn’t make a sound. That’s sneaking in my book.” Her eyes twinkled like aquamarines.

      Enchanted—he was simply enchanted. And she looked glad to see him. What was a helpless guy to do? He shrugged. “Sorry. It’s habit, I guess. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

      “You are a scary man, Mitch Dalton.” Her smile said the opposite as he rescued her fallen Bible from the bench between them. “Do you have a chance to attend a service when you’re overseas?”

      “Usually a chaplain holds service every Sunday. I attend whenever I’m in camp.” He studied the Bible in his hands. It looked like his, treasured and well-read. He handed it over. “This is some church. It beats a tent hands down.”

      “A tent, huh?” Her fingertips brushed against his, feather-light and brief.

      Wow. Her touch stilled his senses. As if from somewhere far away organ music began, and late worshippers hurried to find seats as the minister stepped up to his podium. The congregation rose.

      Kelly stood, and somehow he was on his feet beside her. She was so small and feminine at his side. All he knew was that he liked being with her. Not a comfortable thing for the lone wolf he was. But not bad, either.

      She went up on tiptoe to tell him something, and he had to lean so she could manage to whisper in his ear. “I’m wearing my shopping shoes. I hope you can keep up with me.”

      That was funny. Little did she know what he was capable of doing in a single day. “Bring it on, little lady. I can do anything you can do.”

      “Be careful. I just might drag you to a mall.”

      “Hey, we had a no-mall agreement.”

      “I made no promises, soldier.”

      Kelly felt as light as air. Happy. She’d been working and studying so hard lately, she was glad she’d agreed to spend this time with Mitch. Besides, it was never a bad thing to have a handsome man—er, friend—sit beside you at church.

      Mitch. She couldn’t help noticing he had a very nice singing voice and yet he didn’t attract attention to himself. His voice was quiet and his manner solemn. And he stood powerful and tall. Very masculine.

      Not that she was wishing.

      As she bowed her head for prayer, she caught sight of the Bible passage on the program. The typed words were the last thing she saw as she closed her eyes and the words from Isaiah emblazoned themselves on her eyelids. “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’”

      It had also been the exact passage from her morning devotional. Coincidence? Probably not.

      I’m trying, Lord, to follow where You lead.

      But