15

A variety of colorful blouses and T-shirts decorated KC’s bedspread. What to wear? Short sleeves, long? Overcast skies promised cool temperatures.

Hands on hips, she stared at her choices. “Pick one already. It’s not a date.” Yeah. Why did she wake up with a song on her lips and a jittery feeling in her gut just as she had the first time her folks took her to an amusement park? She sank onto the bed. Corral those emotions. Don’t set yourself up for abandonment. Again. She slumped over, fisting her hands to her heart. Kevin’s desertion still hurt. He sure showed his true self by breaking off their engagement the day before her cancer surgery. No, she’d keep close tabs on any man she allowed into her life.

However…

She reached behind her and snagged a shirt.

…if she ever fell in love again, it would be with a guy much like Coop.

Dressed in blue jeans and a long-sleeved yellow blouse, KC grabbed the small over-the-shoulder tote that contained her essentials and ran to her car. Almost ten o’clock. Too much time spent on her apparel. And her past.

Hunting for a parking space at the pier took five minutes. Coop was probably wondering if she changed her mind. But she needn’t have worried. She spied him circling the area as well. They parked four spaces apart, albeit at the northeast end of the island. “Always be punctual for appointments,” she said in her best rendition of Coop’s voice. He didn’t know she often entertained family with her limited repertoire of impersonations. Not a job requirement, so more than likely he’d never find out.

Salty air engulfed her when she opened her door. KC took a deep breath and slapped her wide brimmed hat on her head. Cloudy or not, a day spent outside invited sunburn. “Morning. Good day for fishing.”

“Certainly is.” He adjusted his baseball cap.

She had never seen him wear a cap before. He wore it low, which made him look years younger.

“I brought a couple of poles for you to choose from. Come take a look.” Coop hoisted up the truck bed cover.

Truth be told, she couldn’t distinguish one type of pole from another. KC went fishing with her dad and brothers primarily for the camaraderie. She chose a rod with a blue grip. Naturally.

“Good choice.” He carried both poles and the tackle box. “Too bad we had to park so far away. Ready for a long trek?”

“Sure.” She kept pace with him. “Do you come here often?”

“The pier is convenient, but I prefer to fish on a deserted beach.”

“I can see how it would be more relaxing without the crowds.”

They walked past Shoreline Park where a handful of kids explored the playground equipment accompanied by excited yells and laughter. Seagulls squawked overhead.

KC pointed toward a group of people near the parallel bars all focused on an adult and child on the ground. “I wonder what’s going on?”

Coop turned. “Let’s see if we can help.”

Closer inspection revealed a well-built man administering CPR to a young boy. “What happened?” KC asked a woman standing nearby.

“He’s my ten-year-old nephew.” She wrapped one arm around her middle and nibbled a fingernail on her other hand. “Apparently a cord he was wearing around his neck got snagged on something. He’s unconscious. That’s his dad.” She indicated the man on his knees.

Coop set his fishing gear down and squatted beside the guy. “Has someone called an ambulance?”

“Yes.” The aunt checked her watch. “They should be here soon.”

Coop tapped the man on the shoulder. “I’m trained in CPR too. Let me know if you need a break.”

No reply, and KC didn’t expect one. The father of the skinny kid kept up compressions and breaths at a steady pace.

Coop stood, jaw clenched, and hands fisted.

Why had he backed away? “Please, dear Lord, save this child,” she whispered.

Minutes later, sirens signaled help at hand, and soon EMTs hurried along the sidewalk with a gurney.

“Move back, everyone. Give them room.” People parted at KC’s words.

One of the medics took over administering CPR, and the dad scooted out of the way. Worry lines creased his forehead as he kept his eyes on his son.

KC and Coop joined in the cheers when the boy finally took a breath on his own.

After the medics departed with the patient and his dad, and the crowd dwindled, KC admitted to herself she didn’t want to go fishing now. Trauma close to water. She squelched the memory and blew out a long breath. Would Coop understand? She glanced at him as he picked up his gear. Grim mouth, and a deep V between his eyes. Not what she expected. “Are you all right?” Previous decisions overruled, she placed her hand on his arm.

“No. Do you mind if we sit here for a while?”

She jutted her chin to the left. “How about that bench?”

He set down the poles and box and then removed his cap. Color had drained from his face. Was he ill?

“We don’t have to stay. I won’t mind if we leave now.”

Still, he said nothing.

Taking the hint, she sat in silence. He’d tell her—

“What is it with ten-year-old kids and me?” Coop leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“I beg your pardon?” Strange words for sure.

“That boy was ten. I didn’t need to help him, but I have the experience and could have administered CPR.”

She sensed he had more to say and held her tongue.

“The day we met I’d just come from the airport. I prevented a girl from being abducted by her non-custodial father. A ten-year-old girl.”

There had to be more. His somber mood and flat tone seemed extreme for only two instances. KC broke her own rule again and rubbed his shoulder. “What else happened, Coop?”

Seconds passed, and then he straightened. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He twisted his cap and stared across the water. “When I was a kid growing up in Texas, we lived in the boonies, south of Lubbock. I had two close friends around my age, not counting Henry and Jennifer, my younger brother and sister. One day, Henry, my friends, and I rode our bikes for miles to a deserted old farmhouse. We’d often dared to ride that far.” His voice faltered. “How I wished we’d never set foot inside that place.”

Other than sit quietly, there wasn’t a whole lot KC could do to offer comfort. At least, not in a way that would be appropriate given their work relationship. So she did nothing.

“We explored every room, had a grand old time, until Henry found an ancient handgun. No one expected the rusted thing to be loaded, so we passed it around, and pretended to fire at different objects.” A big breath. Coop kept his focus on the water.

“When Isaac took his turn, he aimed at Roy, pulled the trigger, and…” Coop wiped a hand across his face and looked at her. “The bullet hit Roy in the chest. He died instantly.”

Forget proprieties. KC latched on to Coop’s hand. “And you blame yourself?”

“Of course. Isaac and Roy were ten years old. I was twelve and should have stopped the stupid game.”

She had no sage advice nor knew of any words to counter his conclusion. Sit still and be quiet.

“That’s why I’m not a fan of carrying a gun all the time.”

KC nodded, still not sure what to say, or if she should say anything at all.

“I will never be able to forgive myself.”

Now she had something to add. “But you must.”

He withdrew his hand.

Careful, KC. Don’t push him farther away from what he needs. “God is the author of forgiveness which He offers freely to those who ask and are repentant. Have you asked God to forgive you?”

He shrugged.

“We, that is regular folks, ask for forgiveness, but often we don’t believe God grants it. Kinda like taking a pile of rocks to His throne. Saying, ‘Here, God. Here’s my sin, please relieve me of my burden.’ Then before we leave, we pick up the sack again.”

No response.

She blew out a breath. How could she reach him?

“I understand here.” Coop touched his head. “But I can’t accept God’s forgiveness here.” He clutched the shirt over his heart.

Did she ever understand his predicament? It was one of the hardest lessons she’d had to learn. Over the years, Dad’s teachings from the Bible and soft words of encouragement got all the credit for her understanding of forgiveness and grace. That was the answer. “Coop, I’ve mentioned our home church several times. Hear me out, OK?”

He didn’t object.

“Come tomorrow. We’re nonjudgmental, accept people as they are. Don’t expect perfection, because then we’d have an empty house.”

A smile creased his face for a second.

“You can participate as much or as little as is comfortable for you. Sometimes we have a lesson—sermon. Other times, we have a Bible study and lively discussions.” She held his gaze. “What do you say?”

The sun peeked out momentarily and then scuttled back behind dark gray clouds. But the brief spark of light was enough to brighten his green eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

She had to be content with his answer. “I’m in no mood to go fishing. How about you?”

“Same here.” He picked up his gear and stood. “And if you don’t mind, I’ll take a rain check on lunch.”

At the mere mention of the word rain, the skies opened up. “That’s fine. I’ll race you to the vehicles.” Holding her hat on against the brisk, wet wind, KC ran for all she was worth.

Laden with the box and rods, Coop reached her SUV a few steps behind her. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ll see you tomorrow at ten.” With a bob of his head, he dashed to his truck.

Buckled in, KC removed her soaked hat. “Thank You, Lord. Please bless Coop’s decision. And thank You for breathing life back into that little boy.” She pulled out of the parking lot talking to herself. “Is Dad giving the lesson tomorrow? Should I ask him to speak on forgiveness?” Turning the windshield wipers on high, she shook her head. “No, it’s not my story to tell. Let God work on His timetable.”

An image of a bulldozer flashed across her mind. “Yes, God, I know.” Brilliant zigzags of lightening in the distance added an exclamation point to her statement. Rumbling thunder highlighted the punctuation mark.

Stopped at a red light, KC mentally inventoried all her dresses. Which one should she wear tomorrow? No straight skirts, for sure. She tsked. “It doesn’t matter what you wear. It’s not a date.”

Yeah, right.