On Wings of Love (6 page)

“Are you sure?” Relief flared on the delicate features of her face.

“Positive. You need it.”

“Thanks.” She blew out her cinnamon scented candle before she returned the pile of papers to her inbox and logged off her computer. When she leaned over to retrieve her purse, a tiny groan escaped her lips. Something was definitely wrong, but Hannah waved off his offer to help her up. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Bye.”

Noah stood by Hannah’s desk, staring at the saguaro cactus outside the window minutes after her compact car left the parking lot. He’d done the right thing, yet the emptiness in the office bothered him. As he grabbed his hat, whistled for Houston and locked the front door, he sensed his carefully constructed world was crumbling around his shoulders and he didn’t have enough emotional cement anymore to build it back up.

Somehow, Ruth Fontaine was involved whether he liked it or not.

A few moments after Ruth hung up with the woman who answered the phone at Desert Wings Aviation, she pulled the sleeveless black dress she’d worn too many times this year already over her head. Death was a part of life, and also part of God’s plan, but it didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye to another friend. Ruth, as well as the rest of the volunteers, staff and children would miss Margaret Ann terribly.

After twisting her hair into a knot, she clamped it down with a clip, sprayed on hairspray and patted down the curly wisps that refused to conform with the styling mousse. Not that it would really matter because by the time she got to the church the strays would have worked themselves free again.

She sighed and put on her jewelry, slipped on her sandals and added some tinted gloss to her pale lips. Then she headed to the kitchen where she stuffed the obituary and directions to the gathering afterward into her purse and made sure she had her car keys.

Ready, Ruth hovered near the front door. The neighbor’s cat sat perched in the tree outside her office window, feeding her sadness. What poor, innocent animal was on its snack list today? She really wished Boots would take up residence somewhere else.

A flash of white caught her eye, and she sucked in her breath.

Her grandfather’s old clock chimed noon. Noah’s punctuality surprised her. She’d only called twenty minutes ago, figuring she’d have to wait at least an hour before he showed up. Ruth released the frilly white lace curtain over the side window, unlocked the door and stepped outside into the hot sunshine. Noah opened his door and let Houston jump down before he followed suit.

“Good afternoon, Ruth.” His lips cracked from their straight line into a frown as he gazed down at her. “You look nice today. Special occasion?”

“Hi, Noah. Hi, Houston.” Ruth scooped up the happy, squirmy dog but stopped him from licking her carefully made-up face. After she set him back on the walkway, her fingers brushed away a few strands of dog hair and smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles on her black dress.

Ruth felt her sigh all the way to her toes. “You might
say that. As soon as I pick up my car, I’m going to a funeral.”

A stagnant moment of silence hung between them.

Noah rubbed a bead of sweat from his forehead. “I’m sorry. Close friend?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for Margaret Ann.” Ruth bit her lip. She was not going to break down in tears and test her new waterproof mascara. She was going to keep her emotions bottled up like the man standing in front of her.

Yet the next thing she knew, Ruth was in his arms, clinging to the front of his polo shirt. His arms cradled her as they had last night and it felt so right; yet she could still sense him trying to withdraw. Her cheek caressed the soft tan material covering his muscled chest. She swore she heard his heart beat as she gasped for air. His masculine, just out of the shower scent, hovered around her. “I’m really sorry, Ruth.”

Beside them, Houston barked, bringing the moment to an end. The warmth lingered where his arms had wrapped around her, but he maintained a silent, emotional mile away.

Ruth pulled away. “Thanks for coming to pick me up. My garage was feeling a little empty this morning.”

In reality, her two-car garage was always half-empty. But Noah’s truck wasn’t the cure to filling it up. Ruth didn’t need any more complications or problems than she already had. Her gaze skimmed the form-fitting polo shirt that accentuated his perfectly sculpted pecs. Her gaze focused on Houston instead of staring at Noah as if he were the proverbial last man on earth.

“Do you always bring your dog with you?”

“Most of the time. He gets lonely when I leave him behind. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I love Houston.” Though Ruth wondered if Houston was really the lonely one.

“Nice place. I didn’t see much of it last night when I dropped you off.” Noah surveyed the slump block home.

“Thanks.” Ruth swelled with pride. She’d worked hard the past few days to maintain her home despite her crazy hours. “It suits me. The only thing it doesn’t have is a pool. Too much work.”

“You live alone?”

“Yes.” For a second, Ruth wondered if he had an ulterior motive for asking that question. Probably not. She buried her disappointment. Still, her gaze slid past his ringless hand before she eyed the newly cut bougainvillea bush to her right. The scratches on her arm had healed, but the memory of fighting with the thorny branches almost made her eyes water.

“Ready to go? I wouldn’t want you to be late.”

“Of course.” After locking the house, Ruth followed Houston inside the truck. She clicked the belt in place with a sudden sense of déjà-vu. “Thanks for picking me up. You really didn’t have to. I could’ve found my own way.”

Noah buckled himself in and flipped the key. “Not necessary. It’s another perk we’ve decided to add to our services.”

The all-business, no-nonsense Noah was back.

“Well, thank you anyway.” The cold air-conditioning blasted against her heated skin, and she focused on the rest of her day. After she paid her respects to Margaret Ann, she’d stop by the Children’s Center and surround herself in the Lord’s work and bring happiness and peace to those who welcomed it. Noah needed it, too, but until he allowed Him into his life, Ruth could only pray for him to find his way. His salvation.

Her thoughts quieted when she realized she had bigger things to think about. Something wasn’t quite right when they reached the airport parking lot. She blinked.

“Did you get a new car?” Noah gestured to the four vehicles scattered in the lot, almost as if parking next to each other was a sin.

A red Jaguar, a white Mercedes, a silver Volvo and another white pickup truck. Her stomach flopped worse than if they’d hit turbulence. “No.”

F
rom the passenger seat of Noah’s truck, Ruth pointed to a spot where she’d carefully parked her car. Or at least she thought she had. She rubbed her forehead in an insane attempt to recall where she’d left it, since she’d had a lot of things on her mind the other afternoon.

“Where’s my car? The parking lot’s not that big.” Her stomach roiled. Where was a biohazard bag when she needed one? She’d rather face all the turbulence the weather could throw at her than the realization that someone had stolen her car. “I left my car over there. I know I did.”

Noah maneuvered his truck around a dented light pole and pulled in the spot next to where she had pointed.

“Wait.” Noah stopped her from opening her door. His fingers touched hers for a moment, the contact making her more aware of the single, table for one status of her life even though that’s the way she wanted it. Her gaze skimmed his broad shoulders after he got out of his truck and strode around to the passenger side to open her door.

“Thanks.” Ruth jumped down onto the hot pavement and scurried past him. “Of all the lowdown, rotten—”

She kicked the glittering shards of glass that marked the spot where she’d left her Accord Wednesday afternoon and disrupted a flock of pigeons. A hot gust of wind played with a discarded plastic cup near the fence. Ruth reached for her stress ball only to discover she wasn’t wearing her lab coat. Of course not. It was her day off and she had other plans. Plans that included comforting those in need like Margaret Ann’s family. Like her kids in the Children’s Center.

Digging through her purse, she found a piece of gum. Chewing helped relieve her stress, too. She plopped the cinnamon flavored stick into her mouth and chewed double time to soften it up. Maybe this was just a reverse mirage. Maybe the shimmery image where the sun beat down on the cement had hidden her car behind a veil of something and in less than a minute, she’d be behind the wheel, blasting the air-conditioning and on her way.

She stared at the spot in front of her. Nothing. Her stomach sank to the tips of her black sandals. “I can’t believe someone stole my car. Why would someone steal a regular car instead of the Jaguar?”

“It probably wasn’t left overnight,” Noah responded with a sigh.

“Oh. Good point.”

From inside the truck, Ruth heard Houston give his comment in short, static barks. Turning away from Noah, she paced around the empty parking space marked by three white lines. In the bright sunlight, the glass shards winked at her, mocking her attempt to remain composed. How was she supposed to pay her respects to Margaret Ann when she had no way to get there?

“Think.” Ruth continued her march around in a circle, tapping her fingers against her forehead. “There’s got to be a way. An answer. A solution.”

She stopped in front of Noah again and stared at the smattering of dark hair showing from the V-neck of his polo shirt. She swallowed. As her gaze locked on her reflection in his sunglasses, a stillness pushed her chaos away.
Okay, Lord. I get it. You do have a sense of humor today. Noah’s hurting and you want me to help. Since when did you become a matchmaker though? And what if I don’t want to play along?

Noah squeezed the bridge of his nose and stared at the woman standing in front of him. At least she’d stopped tapping her forehead. The action reminded him of something his grandmother used to do when she was thinking.

“Why don’t you call your insurance company? I’ll call the police.”

Ruth’s lost expression made another brick fall from the wall around his heart. A band of sweat glistened on her brow. According to the digital thermometer on the billboard some fifty yards away, the temperatures had already surpassed the triple digit mark. Concern for her well-being overrode all every other emotion fighting to dominate his thoughts. “You might also want to get back into the truck to keep cool. This could be a while.”

Noah watched Ruth’s hips sway underneath her black dress as she walked to his truck. Then she hoisted herself onto his passenger seat, settled the tan bag on her lap and pulled out her wallet and phone.

With her elbows resting on her knees, Ruth held the phone to her ear. She scrunched her brows together and tapped her delicate fingers against her forehead as she waited.

Noah felt bad. He’d insisted she leave her car overnight, and it had been stolen. He turned his back before he let guilt consume the last few rational thoughts he had in his
head. And before he had any ideas of getting involved with a woman who wasn’t his type—could never be his type.

After reporting the stolen vehicle to the Scottsdale police, he snapped his phone shut and retreated to the sliver of shade given off by the light pole next to his truck. The idea of taking a dip in his condo complex pool later planted itself in his brain after the police took Ruth’s information and after Noah got back from taking her to a funeral he didn’t want to go to but had unwillingly committed himself to.

“Noah?” Ruth slid off the seat and approached his tiny section of shade. Her sigh danced up and down the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about earlier. I had no reason to snap at you. Or blame you. According to my insurance agent, there’s been a rash of thefts lately. I need to call them back when I get a police report number.”

Righting himself from where the metal had burned into his back, Noah faced her. “Your apology’s not necessary. If I hadn’t insisted on driving you home last night, your car would be parked in your garage.”

“Would it?” She planted her hands on her hips.

“Of course.” Noah pushed an errant strand of Ruth’s hair behind her ear. It was as soft as it had been last night. He suppressed the itch to caress the tiny pulse in her throat with his lips. He needed to remain detached.

Mercifully unaware of his thoughts, Ruth charged on. “But did you see it Wednesday when you came back? Or yesterday when you flew out? There’s no telling when someone took it.”

Instead of focusing on her lips, he finally focused on her words. Ruth had a point.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Her hesitation cost him another piece of sanity. It added another layer to that chivalrous side he couldn’t ignore.

“Look, Noah. This wasn’t part of the plan. You’ve probably got other things to do. I’ll call a cab to take me to a rental car place when I’m done here.” Ruth now stood behind the open door and swung her purse strap over her shoulder. “Then I’ll find my way to the cemetery.”

“I don’t have anything to do today that can’t wait. All the office calls are being forwarded to my cell phone, and Houston would have been disappointed in me if I left you out here by yourself to deal with this.” Noah wanted to reach out and hold her hand in reassurance. Who was he kidding? He was the one who would be disappointed if he didn’t stay to help.

She simply stared at him, her lightly glossed lips pressing into a straight line.

Noah wedged a hand in his hair. “Look. The police are going to be a while. I suggest we go wait inside one of the buildings where it’s cool so my truck doesn’t overheat. I’ll take you to pay your respects to your friend once you’ve filed the report, and then we’ll go rent you a car.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“I say it is. Come on, boy.” Chivalry wasn’t dead as long as Noah could still breathe. Especially where Ruth was concerned. She brought out emotions he’d thought buried with his wife. He leaned inside the truck to shut off the ignition. His hand shook when he turned and slid his palm under Ruth’s elbow to escort her to an air-conditioned building. He inhaled her sweet scent but bit down on his tongue to keep from burying his nose in her hair. The heat had gotten to him.

She made him want to care again.

“Where’s the funeral?” Cloying heat and diesel-laden air surrounded them as Noah helped both Ruth and Houston into the truck after the police had come and gone. While the officers had handled the theft in the airport parking lot with efficiency, Noah didn’t have much confidence they’d find Ruth’s car. Or if they did, how much of the car would be left. Guilt assuaged his conscience again.

After Ruth glanced at her watch, she buckled herself in. She sighed with sadness, and tears pricked the back of her eyelids when she briefly closed her eyes. “It’s too late for that. The funeral procession is probably halfway to the cemetery by now. Look, please drop me off at the car rental place. I can take it from there, Noah. Houston looks like he’s ready to go home.”

“Which cemetery?” Bile hit the back of his throat. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have such a sense of chivalry—or in this case, a misguided sense of duty.

Ruth studied him so intently that a blush found a home on his cheeks. “If you insist. Phoenix Memorial. Thank you. I can still pay my respects and say goodbye.”

“You’re welcome.” Noah straightened and narrowly missed hitting his shoulder blades on the passenger door of the truck.

A commuter jet touched down, the noise creating static in his mind. Noah used the time to walk around his truck and jump in the driver’s seat. He started his truck and flipped the air-conditioning on full blast to dispel the heat. Houston jumped from the backseat and planted himself on Ruth’s lap and stared out the front window as if daring Noah to dislodge him.

“Do you know where the cemetery is?”

Noah nodded and pulled out onto the side street that wound through the airpark businesses before turning north on Scottsdale Road. He knew only too well where he was going. He visited there twice a week if not more, depending on his schedule.

Finally at their destination after a slight delay on the 101, Noah stopped his truck several yards from the large group of mourners assembled under a canopy, spilling out into the shade of an old eucalyptus tree. The green fabric offered only moderate protection for the people from the sun filtering in through the tree branches above. Sweat formed under his arms when the crowd shifted, and he caught sight of the casket and the clergyman standing at the head of it.

The elderly, white-haired man in black glanced over at the truck, his gaze catching Noah’s and his wise, aged eyes and open arms inviting Noah to join them. Join Him. Come back to the flock. Noah’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. No. He wouldn’t go back. Couldn’t. God had forsaken him. He’d left him to wander around without the people he loved, who ironically Noah had buried a few hundred yards down the road.

“Thanks for bringing me. I’m sure I can catch a ride from here.” As if sensing Noah’s distress, Ruth reached over and placed her hand on his arm. Warm and full of life and love. All of the things Noah was not these days.

“I’ll be waiting in my truck over there.” Noah managed to control his anger and bitterness as he pointed to a pull off not too far away. The woman beside him was not responsible for what had happened. Not really. That was between him and God. And the drunk. And the doctors. And the woman with the red lipstick. Yet Ruth was one of them and not one of them. Would he ever be able to separate the caring, compassionate woman from her profession?

“But—”

“You’d better get out. It looks like they’re waiting for you.”

Once the group welcomed Ruth into their midst and she disappeared from view, Noah put the truck in Drive and slipped away. He’d meant to head to the spot where he’d told Ruth to meet him, but his heart had other ideas and he found himself parking even farther down and walking toward Michelle’s and Jeremy’s graves.

Houston trotted ahead of him, yet he didn’t bark, as if sensing the solemn occasion. The dog sniffed between the two markers and then rolled on the freshly mown grass covering Jeremy’s grave. Houston remained the only bright spot in Noah’s day. Denial singed the surface of his heart. Who was he kidding? Ruth brought a bit of light into his dark world, too.

In the background, he heard the constant hum of traffic from the freeway and the din of lawn mowers in another section of the cemetery. Birds chirped from the tree branches overhead, and an occasional rabbit munched on the green grass. A few other families tended similar sites but off in the distance. Good. Noah liked to keep his visits private.

“Hi, Michelle.” Noah felt his voice break, as he knelt between his wife and son’s markers and brushed away a few stray grass clippings the landscapers had missed from Michelle’s. “My sister called the other day. Her daughter got her first job as a cashier at the local community college. You remember Stephanie, don’t you?”

No answer, but Noah was used to the one-sided conversations. “Of course you do. Well, Nancy’s really freaked out about Steph working with college boys, but our niece is sixteen. The work will be good for her. And
Nadine’s husband, Tom, is going through some sort of mid-life crisis and just bought himself a red Corvette.”

Noah leaned over and adjusted the fake flowers in the permanent receptacle so they stayed upright. Houston sniffed at them until a pigeon distracted him and he chased it into the tree branch overhead. “Did you notice I replaced the flowers last month? They’re your favorite.”

He touched one of the yellow petals of the tulip, the silk texture a little rough between his fingers. They didn’t last very long in the valley heat. He sat back on his heels and rubbed his palms against his jeans and wondered what type of flower Ruth preferred.

He clamped his teeth together. He didn’t want to know. Michelle had been the love of his life. Only she mattered. But he had a hard time remembering what his wife looked like. The picture of the woman in his mind stood at another funeral only a few hundred yards away. He savagely plucked a few more stalks of uncut grass the mowers had missed and threw them to the side.

Despite the heat, the action felt good. It burned at the restless energy built up inside him. He would not think of Ruth. Or her laughter or the dimples that graced her cheeks when she gave him one of her smiles. He would not allow himself the opportunity to care for her. Because that could only lead to disaster. And heartache. And potentially another tragedy.

Twisting to his right, he attended to Jeremy’s marker, shoving all thoughts of Ruth from his mind. She didn’t belong there. Not now, not ever. He flicked off an errant clump of dirt from the J in Jeremy’s name. “Hey, sport. Your favorite ball team is playing really well this year. There’s some talk they may actually make the play-offs.”
Moisture gathered in Noah’s eyes. “They might even make it to the World Series again.”