Rekindled Hearts

“What if today was the last day we had?” Lexi asked.

As the tornado surged outside, she looked up at him and wondered why she had let him go so easily. The words were definitely more maudlin than she’d intended.

“At least we’re together,” he said.

“Together?” She shook her head. She knew without a doubt that she wasn’t over her husband. He whispered that he sometimes felt the same way and she smiled, even though she knew it wasn’t real. This wasn’t real.

But his arms around her were real. This was what happened when two people were afraid and they didn’t know if they would have a tomorrow. And if they did survive, they’d go back to living separate lives, careful to never really look at one another. But for this moment, with their lives hanging in the balance, she chose to not think about it, about tomorrow, and about losing him all over again.

BRENDA MINTON

started creating stories to entertain herself during hour-long rides on the school bus. In high school she wrote romance novels to entertain her friends. The dream grew and so did her aspirations to become an author. She started with notebooks, handwritten manuscripts and characters that refused to go away until their stories were told. Eventually she put away the pen and paper and got down to business with the computer. The journey took a few years, with some encouragement and rejection along the way—as well as a lot of stubbornness on her part. In 2006, her dream to write for Steeple Hill Books came true.

Brenda lives in the rural Ozarks with her husband, three kids and an abundance of cats and dogs. She enjoys a chaotic life that she wouldn’t trade for anything—except, on occasion, a beach house in Texas. You can stop by and visit at her Web site, www.brendaminton.net.

Rekindled Hearts

Brenda Minton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Special thanks and acknowledgment to Brenda Minton for her contribution to the After the Storm miniseries.

Then maidens will dance and be glad,

young men and old as well.

I will turn their mourning into gladness;

I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.

—Jeremiah 31:13

I would like to dedicate this book to my family, for understanding deadlines. To the editors at Love Inspired, for giving me the opportunity to do this story. To my agent, Janet Benrey, for being the best.

To survivors everywhere.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Questions for Discussion

Prologue

July 10

The patrol car cruised Main Street of High Plains. There was no breeze, just July heat and heavy humidity. A glance out the open car window confirmed what Police Chief Colt Ridgeway already knew. It was anything but a normal day. The air was too still and the sky had that funky green tint that set a guy’s nerves on edge and raised the hair on his arms.

Foreboding, there was a definite sense of foreboding with the town streets nearly empty at four in the afternoon and the leaves on the trees turned bottom up in advance of the rains that were coming.

Colt had been sitting in his car on a road at the edge of town, storm spotting. Now he headed for the police department connected to the fire station. Two of his officers were still posted on side roads, as were several volunteer firemen. From the looks of things, High Plains, Kansas, was in big trouble. The southern horizon was dark and the clouds rolled. A definite wall cloud had formed and he could see the rotation, even at this distance.

His scanner blasted the information about the latest warning and the tornado siren connected to the town hall went off. The sound blared loud and then soft as it rotated on the pole. Colt hit his siren and lights.

A dozen or more times a year they went through this same scenario, cruising the streets and neighborhoods of High Plains to warn the residents that a tornado had been spotted. If people couldn’t hear the tornado siren, he wanted them to hear the siren on his car.

His radio crackled and the voice of one of his officers, breaking up but discernible, blasted his ear. Colt lowered the volume.

“Go ahead, Bud.”

“Chief, it’s on the ground, ten or fifteen miles out of town.” A muttered comment from Bud.

“Take shelter, Bud.”

“God save…” The deputy’s voice faded.

“Bud?” No answer. Colt had to hope it was just interference. He really had to hope, because the kid was young and just out of the police academy.

Colt wouldn’t lose an officer. He shook his head, remembering the younger cop’s shortened sentence. God save us.

God wasn’t going to save them. Colt could have told the younger officer that he’d prayed more than once in his life, and he wasn’t sure God was listening.

Maybe this time?

Until God proved Himself, Colt would have to do the saving. The people of High Plains had entrusted him with that duty. He drove through a quiet neighborhood, his siren blaring, and headed back to Main Street. The wind picked up and he could smell rain. He could see the dark band of precipitation heading their way.

And above the wind and thunder, he could hear something else. A dog howling. Or he thought it was a dog.

He tried to listen, leaning out a little, but the wind was whipping and he had to put up his window. His radio crackled again. Bud’s voice broke, crackled and then dissolved into nothing.

The siren on his car blended in with the sound of the storm, the tornado siren and the barking dog. Colt glanced to his left, to the street that led to Lexi’s house. He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat, the lump that just thinking about her caused. And then it was fear, because he had to work and couldn’t keep her safe.

Besides that, she wasn’t his wife anymore. He had to let her go.

He had let go. Of course he had. Because he had to let her find happiness, a life that included her dream of having a family.

They had both moved on. He had even dated a little.

A newspaper blew, catching on the wipers of the car. Rain fell in sheets so heavy it was hard to see the street. Trees along the meandering High Plains River, barely a creek most of the time, were circling and bending as the wind picked up.

Ahead of him, just a few blocks away, Tommy Jacobs was riding a bike in the rain that was becoming a downpour. Who let a six-year-old out in weather like this? No way had Beth and Brandon Otis, the boy’s foster parents, let him out to play. That was just Tommy, always sneaking off with that old dog of his. He had probably been in the middle of doing what he loved most, annoying Gregory Garrison, when the storm hit. And now he was too far from home to make it safely.

Colt did a quick check of the horizon, confirming his worst suspicions. The black, swirling clouds were gaining ground, gaining in size. He could see the swirling debris. Trees in the park were leaning with the force of winds that pushed ahead of the storm.

Tommy was scrunched down on his bike and probably pretty scared and miserable. Colt hit the gas, because he had to get that kid.

Charlie, the dog, looked to be barking at the tires of Tommy’s bike. The dog wanted to go home, too. Colt hit the gas as his stomach tightened. The sky was darker. The wind blowing harder. The kid was leaning on his bike.

Colt hit the siren twice, hoping the boy would pay attention. The door to Gregory Garrison’s office opened, and the businessman grabbed the kid off the bike and hauled him inside just as it was starting to hail. Colt waved, breathing a sigh of relief. The kid would be safe with Greg and his assistant, Maya Logan.

The rest of the town was deserted. People had heeded the warning and taken shelter. He glanced toward the day care. The kids would be safe there. He didn’t see anyone outside. The only movement was on the city green, next to the gazebo. Colt’s dog, Chico. The stupid chocolate lab was barking at the storm as wind blew and a few small trees toppled.

Even the mildest storm, if it included thunder and lightning, caused the dog to lose it. Chico had one spot in the fence that he could dig his way out of. Since the dog couldn’t get inside Colt’s house, he was probably heading for Lexi’s.

The roar of the wind increased. He couldn’t see the funnel from where he was, but he knew that it was out there. And he had no idea where it was heading.

“God save us.”

He repeated Bud’s words, because he knew he couldn’t save himself. Dust filled the car, filling his nostrils with the scent of destruction and earth. His heart pounded and the sound roared in his ears.

He wasn’t ready to die.

He wasn’t going to let his dog die. He jumped out of the car and ran toward the dog, shouting his name, knowing the animal couldn’t hear above the roaring wind. A piece of metal flew through the air, bouncing off the ground and then into the air again.

Colt yelled at the dog. Chico turned and as he did, the metal hit his side and the dog fell.

The pull of the storm made it hard to move, hard to breathe. Colt leaned, pushing himself forward. When he reached the dog, he kneeled, breathing deep for a moment, giving his heart a second to slow its pounding rhythm, letting his lungs refill.

The rain had slowed, still heavy, but not pounding. Debris floated in the wind and fluttered to the ground. They were in serious trouble. The pieces of siding and insulation had to come from homes in the outlying areas. To the south he could see the form of a dark wall cloud. The air had stilled, but the storms weren’t over.

He had to get hold of Bud, or one of the storm spotters, to see what was happening outside of town. And they would have to notify the county officers to make sure they were in the area.

He keyed his mic. Nothing. He pulled his cell phone out, hoping for a signal. He still had one. That meant they still had towers standing. When Bud answered, he could hear the younger cop’s fear in his shaking voice. Colt wondered if he sounded the same.

“Bud, what’s it look like out there?”

“Bad, Chief. I saw a county deputy. He said there’s a tornado forming. It was on the ground for a while, and went back up, but it’s still there. I can see the rotation.”

“Okay, make sure the county emergency management has been contacted. You might want to contact the hospital and some of the other communities around here. If they haven’t been hit, we’re going to need their help.” He held a handkerchief to the wound on his dog’s side.

“Sure thing. Oh man, it’s on the ground again.”

“Bud, take shelter somewhere. When it’s over, we’ll do house-by-house searches. But stay safe.”

“Got it. You, too, ’cause it’s heading that way.”

Colt slid his phone back into his pocket and turned his attention back to the dog. “I’ve got to get you to Lexi’s before this hits.”

The wind picked up, blowing across the lawn. Colt glanced toward the High Plains Community Church. He could make it there. But two blocks away was Lexi’s house and veterinary clinic. Was she there, or out on a call?

He had to make sure she was okay. “Come on, Chico.”

But the dog wasn’t moving. “Buddy, don’t ask me to do this.”

The dog raised his head and looked up at him.

“Come on.” Colt scooped the sixty-pound dog into his arms. More blood oozed from the cut.

As the storm rolled toward them he ran across Main Street and down the road toward Lexi’s, and safety. And if she wasn’t home? He didn’t want to think of her out on the road, tending sick cows in the middle of a tornado.

Lexi stood in the entryway of her house, knowing that she shouldn’t be there. She should be back in the basement, where she’d gone after she had first heard the siren. But her heart wouldn’t let her go back, not until she knew if Colt was safe. She’d watched his car pass earlier.

She knew he would risk his life to save everyone else. He was all about saving other people. If only he had put that same care into their marriage.

He said he had divorced her to save her from heartache.

Whatever.

She knew that he had divorced her to save himself. He didn’t want to live his life worrying about her, worrying about what would happen to her if something happened to him. He had divorced her because he hadn’t been able to deal with the death of Gavin Jones, a deputy that Colt hadn’t been able to reach in time to save.

As mad as he made her, Lexi’s heart still ached when she thought of Colt, of loving him and losing him. She closed her eyes and leaned against the cool glass of the window.

She prayed he would be safe. This felt too much like their marriage, when she had prayed every night that he would come home safe. And one night, a few months after Gavin’s death, he hadn’t called to let her know he would be late.

He had found her on the couch, crying, afraid something had happened to him. That night had been the final straw for them both.

Now he was out there again. And she was afraid. Again.

It had to be bad. Debris littered her yard. Her power was out and the house was silent. No news on the radio, no hum of the fridge. Silence, other than the howl of the wind picking up again, and rain pelting the windows and metal roof.

“Please, God, keep him safe. Keep our town safe.” The wood door shuddered and heaved as the wind ripped across the Kansas plains.

She should go to the basement.

As she turned away from the door it blew open. And there he was, bloody and heaving as he carried their dog into the house. His dog. Chico had been hers, but after the divorce, he picked Colt.

The dog had broken her heart, too. Each time she’d bring him back home, the dog would run back to Colt’s.

“Colt.” She froze for a second and then came to life again, because the house shuddered and the wind outside had changed. It wasn’t blowing straight at the house the way it had. Windows on all sides seemed to be taking a beating from wind and rain, leaves sticking to the glass.

“Get to the basement.” Colt’s blond hair was rain-soaked and plastered to his head. A streak of blood marked his cheek. “Lexi, go!”

She ran down the hall to the door that led to the basement. She opened it and motioned him down. Before she could go, she needed supplies. She needed something for him, or the dog, whichever one was injured. Her clinic was on the lot next to the house. She couldn’t make it over there, not in this storm.

“Lexi, down here now.”

“I’m coming.”

She grabbed a few things from the kitchen counter and ran down the stairs, slamming the door behind her. She held the rail and took careful steps in the darkened basement, glad to see a sliver of light from the small window and then the bright beam of a flashlight Colt had found.

“I’m here, in the corner.” Colt’s voice, soft and firm. He never panicked.

Lexi bit down on her lip, listening to the crash and splinter of trees and the wind slamming her house. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest and she didn’t want this to happen, not this, not now.

Not when she was finally starting to get it together again. Total destruction was a perfect marriage crumbling into a nightmare of silence and loneliness. This nightmare she couldn’t take, not the town crumbling around her.

What was God thinking? Did He know she had been at the end of her faith rope and she was just beginning to climb back up?

Chico was on the table she used for folding laundry. His side was gashed open and blood oozed from the wound. She glanced up, making eye contact with blue eyes that had once danced with laughter.

When had Colt stopped laughing?

She searched through the supplies she’d grabbed, and Colt moved closer. He grimaced and held his left arm close to his chest with his right hand.

“Are you okay?”

He smiled, as if it didn’t matter. “Take care of Chico, I’m fine.”

A loud crash sounded above them and then shattering glass. She shuddered and paused, waiting to see if everything would collapse in on them. When the world calmed for a minute, she looked at Colt again, at the arm he held to his side.

“Of course you’re fine.” She touched his arm and he flinched. His face was bruised, as well. “What happened out there?”

Tight lines of pain around his mouth. “We’re taking a direct hit. I need to make sure the two of you are okay and get back out there.”

“Not until I make sure you’re okay. You look like you were in a car accident.”

“It was nothing like that. A tree limb hit my arm.” He wouldn’t tell her more. She knew he didn’t want her to picture what had happened out there. What was still happening. But she could hear it.

She cut into a sheet and ripped a strip of cloth away. She tied the ends and handed it to him. She wouldn’t put it around his neck. She couldn’t do that. Tight lips formed a smile and he slipped the makeshift sling over his neck.

A huge crash above them. Lexi jumped and shuddered, tingles sliding up her arms and through her scalp. She closed her eyes and waited.

“Lexi, it’s okay.” Colt’s voice, steady and calm.

She opened her eyes, and he was watching her.

“Of course it is.” She tried to smile but she couldn’t, not with the storm raging outside her home and fear tangling with adrenaline inside her heart. “The town falling in around us is okay.”

“We’re safe.”

She nodded, not really believing it. She’d watched the news all morning, watching national coverage of storms ripping across Kansas, taking lives, taking homes and dreams. She had prayed that it would stop, that it would turn away from them.

Chico whimpered and raised his head to look at her, his sad eyes pleading. Lexi smoothed his brown coat and examined the cut. “I’m going to give him a shot and then clean this out and sew it up.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Little-boy eyes in the face of a man. She nodded and looked away.

Last week she’d gone out with a farmer from a neighboring town. He had two children and dimples. She had liked him. He wasn’t complicated.

He wasn’t Colt.

“He’ll be fine. But he’s losing a lot of blood, and I don’t have an IV down here.”

“I’ll run upstairs and get one.”

“You can’t run upstairs. It’s too dangerous and you don’t know what I need.” Everything she said seemed to have a double meaning. She looked away from him.

“This isn’t the first animal I’ve tended to with you, Lexi. I know what you need. I’ll get it, and then if it’s clear enough, I need to get back to town. I need to make sure people are safe.”

“The storm.”

“Don’t worry.” He winked, as if it really was okay.

“I don’t want to be alone.” Honesty. She bit down on her bottom lip as he looked away. “I don’t want to die down here alone.”

“You’re safe, Lex. We’re both safe.”

She wanted to hold on to him, refusing to let him leave her alone. Instead she nodded, and she let him go. “Get what I need while I close this wound.”

And he was gone.

She listened to him upstairs, slamming cabinets. The wind pounded the house and something upstairs crashed. She shuddered because she knew it wasn’t Colt. He was tall and muscular, but not clumsy.

She sutured Chico’s wound, talking quietly to her dog, and praying they’d all survive this. Quiet tears slipped down her cheeks and she couldn’t brush them away with gloved hands. She used her arm.

But upstairs the wind was pounding her house and through the narrow basement window she could see debris scooting across her lawn. A crash vibrated through the house and she shuddered, hunkering over the silent dog. A quick glance at the window and this time she saw only tree limbs against the glass.

The door slammed. Wind wailed outside, roaring like a train about to come off the tracks. More glass shattering. And then the windows in the basement. Lexi ducked as a pipe in the basement ceiling fell.

It was an old house, and the upstairs hardwood floor and underlying support beams were the ceiling for the basement. Pipes and electric wires crisscrossed the big, open room, making it not the safest place to be in a tornado. She preferred the storage room in the far corner of the basement.

“Lexi, here it is.” Colt took the last step and was halfway across the room when the house above them splintered and crackled. “Run to the storage room.”

Colt’s voice was drowned out by the roaring wind. He reached them, grabbing the dog and pushing behind her. A board splintered and fell. Lexi tried to duck, but the board hit the arm she lifted to shield herself and then it hit her head.

Crashing and roaring filled her ears and the world tilted. Colt was behind her, pushing her forward.

“Don’t fall, Lexi. Keep moving.”

“I can’t.” She was dizzy and her eyes clouded for a second. Her legs buckled and she felt Colt’s arm against hers. Her ears popped and her lungs heaved for air. “I can’t.”

“Five more steps. You can.” He shoved with his shoulder and they were in the storage room, the door slamming behind him. The building shuddered around them.

A house over one hundred years old and today it gave up. Lexi cried because the house had history. The house had stood the test of time.

It was the one thing in her life that had been sturdy and unwavering. It had a history that she had wanted, of families growing up and growing old together. As she ran to the far corner of the room, she knew the house was falling in around them.

Her ears were filled with the sound of glass shattering and wood splintering, and behind her, the ragged breath of her ex-husband as he moved them to safety.

“You’re bleeding.” Colt laid the dog on the floor and glanced over his shoulder as Lexi dropped to the ground, leaning her head on her knees until her vision cleared. “Lexi, stay awake.”

“Don’t yell. My life is crumbling in around me and you’re yelling.”

“This is a house, not your life.”

She watched as he slid the needle into the dog, the way she’d taught him. She missed their marriage. She missed him in the morning, waking her up with coffee, his hair tousled and more blond in the summer than the winter.

She missed getting up later than him. He’d be gone, but the bathroom would still smell like his deodorant and his cologne. She missed his scent on her pillow.

Her head really hurt. She bent, resting her forehead on knees she pulled to her chest.

“Stop.” His voice was gruff, emotional.

“Stop what?” She looked up and blinked a few times. Pain throbbed and she touched her head. Her hand came away damp. She looked down at the blood on her fingers, mesmerized and confused.

“You’re talking about the past, about us, like this is the end. This isn’t the end, Lexi. We’re both alive.” Colt moved to her side, a folded towel in his hand. He dabbed at her head and then held the towel with pressure that made her wince.

“Not so hard.” She bit down on her lip and looked up, meeting blue eyes that connected with hers and didn’t look away. “I didn’t know I was talking.”

His laughter was soft and his eyes crinkled at the corners. He kept the towel on her head. “You were talking, and I’m honored. But you need to stay awake.”

“I’m awake.” She leaned back against the wall and thought she felt it heave with the pressure of the storm and the falling building. “You should be out there, helping other people.”