Heaven's Touch. Jillian Hart

slapping against the tile on the far end of the pool.

      This moment. This is what mattered. She purposely kept herself from noticing how he soared through the water like a dolphin.

      He’s not special to me anymore…he’s a stranger.

      She took another sip of tea, climbed down from her chair and paced the long way around the pool, taking her time, so that when she came around to him, he was exactly in the middle of his lane.

      Think of him as just another swimmer.

      She took refuge in the corner, where she kept a sharp eye on everything, even on this quiet morning where it seemed nothing could go wrong.

      She’d learned the hard way that’s when devastation happened—when you least expected it.

      His leg was killing him, but would he show weakness? No way. Not in front of anyone, especially Cadence. Clutching the wall, he paused long enough to catch his breath and watched her out of his peripheral vision.

      Every fiber of his being seemed aware of the way she moved like sunlight around the huge Olympic-sized pool. Her uniform, a lifeguard’s nylon windbreaker and matching shorts over her swimsuit, made the moment loop oddly back in time. They had both spent a lot of time in this pool as teenaged kids.

      We’ve both traveled long, divergent roads since.

      As he kicked away from the wall, feeling the water slide over his skin, he stretched out into a steady breaststroke so he could keep his eyes barely above water level and watch Cadence as she circled the pool.

      How weird was it that she was working here? Working. As a lifeguard. What had happened to her big plans to get out of this backwater place? What about the fame and riches of her diving career? Why wasn’t she in broadcast sports?

      Good questions. He remembered what the doc had told him—the one he’d nearly blown a gasket at because he hadn’t liked the diagnosis. You can’t always get what you want, hotshot. The M.D.’s words haunted him as he touched the wall and began another lap. Had the same thing happened to Cadence?

      It troubled him all through his laps. When white-hot pain was shooting through his calf and he was clenching his jaw so tight he couldn’t breathe correctly between strokes, he had to call it a day. Done.

      And after only a quarter of a mile, too. He swallowed the disappointment as he climbed out of the pool, ignoring the stabbing pain and the throbbing burn of injured muscles and tendons. He hadn’t pushed as hard as he’d wanted to, and he was beat. Recovery might not be as quick as he’d hoped.

      You have to be tougher, that’s all.

      Ben ignored the way his leg was shaking so hard, it wouldn’t support any weight. He was glad Cadence was at the far end of the pool—he’d timed it that way. She stood by the diving pool, separated by a concrete bridge from the regular pool. The diving boards towered behind her, the springboard and platforms empty and still.

      For an instant the image of Cadence on TV accepting her medal was superimposed on her standing poolside in her jacket and suit, with her silver whistle hanging around her neck.

      He still couldn’t reconcile the two images as she moved on ordinary, discount-store flip-flops along the deck, squatting down with the grace of a gymnast to speak with the elderly lady who’d passed him about six times in the next lane.

      Whatever happened to Cadence is none of your business, man.

      Ben snatched his crutches and settled them into place. The deck was aggregate concrete, which provided decent traction for his crutches, but it was slightly wet in places from folks dripping on their way from the showers to the pool. He went slowly.

      More devoted swimmers were arriving—it looked as if he’d stopped at just the right time. He’d been all right swimming slowly and steadily, but he’d been in a lane by himself. If he’d stayed in the pool longer, he wouldn’t have been able to keep pace.

      His pride burned as he headed to the locker-room door on his crutches. He’d remember to be here the same time—when they opened—tomorrow. And Cadence, would she be on duty?

      Keeping his face down, he risked glancing upward through his lashes to watch her. What had happened to Cadence to bring her here, when she’d had everything she’d ever wanted? While he turned the corner and moved into the showers, he remembered her teenaged voice, soft and sweet. I can’t wait to get out of this boringville. I’m getting out and I’m never coming back.

      Never was one of those ominous words, Ben had learned. Because we weren’t as in control of our lives as we liked to think. God was, and Ben had no clue why the Lord had brought him back here to the central Montana country where he’d been born and raised.

      He was lucky—he had nothing to complain about. His primary duty in the military was rescuing and patching up pilots and soldiers wounded in action, wherever they were, on the front lines or in hostile enemy territory. He’d seen enough wounded men and women to know that for whatever reason, the angels had been keeping him safe on his last mission, but he couldn’t help feeling defeated.

      I can’t do any good to anyone here, Father. He was impatient and he knew it, and he believed that this, too, was part of God’s plan for him, but he was impatient anyway. Duty called. He’d had to turn off the radio again this morning on the drive here because there had been an update about soldiers being shot and injured in Iraq.

      Pararescue had been Ben’s purpose for all of his adult life. He was just irritable, being stuck here. Irritable waiting to get his leg back into shape.

      Whatever had happened to bring Cadence back couldn’t have been too traumatic, he decided as he showered and limped to the lockers. She’d looked great—more relaxed, her smile easy and wide, and her cornflower-blue eyes sparkling as she’d talked with her morning regulars.

      Whatever happened, he’d be seeing her again. But they were strangers now. There was no going back to their high school days when they’d been practically inseparable. When he’d loved her with the whole of his heart. When he’d believed they were soul mates.

      No such things as soul mates, he told himself as he pulled his T-shirt over his head. Failure became a tight vise in his chest until it hurt to breathe. He’d failed at every major relationship he’d ever started, and he knew he’d failed Cadence the most.

      Just go chase your gold, he’d said to her selfishly, hoping to hurt her, in the way that only an eighteen-year-old boy could.

      Seeing her brought back too much pain. There were other times, aside from early mornings, set aside at the pool for lap swims. Maybe he’d start coming in the evening.