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.
Chapter Two
Julie didn’t go running the next day. Or the next. Dal knew, because he watched for her. She must be home resting her ankle. But after three more days and no sign of her, he started to worry. He couldn’t help himself. And he didn’t like that. Because worrying led to caring, which led to heartbreak.
Julie Granger meant nothing to him. Just a blast from his past. He barely knew her, but that didn’t seem to matter. After all this time, he couldn’t get her off his mind. Her silent rejection from years past still haunted him.
A week later, he couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled his old truck into a parking place next to the McClellan National Forest Service office. After killing the engine, he slid the keys from the ignition and thrust the door wide-open. He slipped the keys into one pocket of his faded blue jeans, then swiveled around in his seat, placed both his booted feet on the ground, braced his hands against the frame of the door, got his balance and stood. A swift series of motions no one seemed to notice. But for Dal, each action required concentration if he didn’t want to fall flat on his face.
Rotating his left hip forward, he stepped up from the curb. With not a hint of a limp, he walked past the American flag