Christmas Angel
CHAPTER 1
SNOW SPARKLED, TWISTED and turned around Kyle Anderson as
he eased out of the rental car. He closed the door and
thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his leather
bomber jacket. The cold snowflakes landed in his hair, slid
across his jacket and melted upon touching his face as he
slowly walked toward the White Sulphur Springs Ranch house.
The wind was inconstant and he hunched his shoulders,
hearing his combat boots crunching in the foot of snow
across the graveled parking area.
His heart squeezed with anticipation and worry. Anna
Campbell, the woman he loved and had walked away from, had
been in a serious auto accident two weeks ago. She’d been
in a coma, though now was recovering at home.
Kyle had been notified only three days ago because his SEAL
team had been out on a two-week mission. He didn’t think
twice before leaving to see her.
His mouth tightened and he opened the creaking white picket
fence gate. Snow had covered the bright red tiles he had
helped place there as a ten-year-old. Kyle had grown up
with Anna on her parents’ ten-thousand-acre cattle ranch.
There were so many good memories here. He halted for a
moment on the covered sidewalk, looking around.
The sun was setting, the sky a light gray. He could see the
sharp pointed tips of the evergreens behind the massive
two-story log house. To his left were three large red
barns. To his right were pipe-rail fences where the cattle
were kept. Most of the animals were probably in nearby
pastures, huddled in herds, their butts to the wind,
keeping warm. The barns would house the wrangler’s horses
in box stalls, the grain and hay to feed these herds.
No one was out in the coming blizzard. The car rental place
at the Great Falls, Montana, airport had warned him that a
major storm was on its way. It was expected to dump three
to four feet of snow in the next one or two days. He’d
arrived home just in time.
Turning, he wiped his wet face and spotted something in the
window nearest the bright wooden red door. It was an
electric candle sitting in the window.
Old memories flowed through Kyle as he stared at the light,
filling him with remorse and yearning. When she was
eighteen, Anna had bought the electric candle in a scroll-
like saucer of green copper at a hardware store in Great
Falls. She told Kyle she would keep the candle on during
the holidays, as a light, so he could find his way home to
her. Pain squeezed his heart.
The window was partly frosted over in the corners, the ice
crystals making the soft yellow light look like some kind
of halo an angel might wear. Anna was his angel. She always
had been. His mouth pulled in at the corners as he stood
there on the walk, his gaze on that candle, the memories
filling him like warm, spiced red wine tainted with
bitterness.
Kyle couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t loved Anna.
They had grown up together on this ranch, attended the same
small school, played together, laughed together and had so
much fun. He’d joined the Navy at eighteen and later became
a SEAL. He’d left Anna crying in this very driveway that
cold December day. Rubbing his chest, grief, loss and
concern warred within Kyle.
Of all the people in the world he loved, Anna had always
owned his heart. And he’d broken hers. Dragging in a ragged
breath, Kyle tried to steady his emotions, but it was
impossible. He knew from several phone calls with the head
wrangler at the ranch, Jepson Turner, that Anna had a
stage-three concussion, a serious one, but was steadily
improving. For that, Kyle had breathed in a sigh of relief
so deep that he was overwhelmed with gratefulness in that
moment.
He had always expected to die in combat, not be called home
because Anna teetered between life and death for two weeks
in a hospital.
What could he say to her? Kyle stood with the snow falling
silently around him, his gaze never leaving that candle, or
the hope Anna had clung to that he’d someday come home and
stay here forever. With her. The starry-eyed idealism of an
eighteen-year-old girl helplessly in love with him. He’d
loved her and she’d blindly loved him. At first, as
children, it was puppy love. In junior high, the love
turned serious. But then, she’d turned down his marriage
proposal when he’d come home at twenty-two.
No one in his platoon saw him weeping. Kyle had gone off by
himself. He’d cried for what he’d selfishly thrown away:
Anna. He’d never talked or emailed her again, not wanting
to cause her more pain. And then, five years later, he got
an email from his mother, telling him that she’d divorced
her wrangler husband, Tom Carter. Kyle hadn’t even known
she’d married. It came as a shock. But he couldn’t leave
the SEALs and come home and marry her. His heart wanted
that, but his loyalty to his team had been a stronger
calling.
Until now.
News of her accident—that she’d almost died—changed
everything. It changed him. But Kyle wasn’t sure about
anything right now. And it was the uncertainty that made
him tense and edgy as he forced himself to move the last
twenty feet toward that red-painted door and press the
buzzer. He tried to ignore the circular wreath composed of
sprigs of pine with a bright red ribbon and silver-
glittered pinecones fastened to it. That was Anna’s work.
She loved Christmas and made beautiful arrangements to
celebrate the season. When he was younger, he had helped
her.
What would Anna look like now? She knew he was coming home
to see her. So many years ago, at her parents’ urging to
protect the family property, Anna had made out a will and
had given him power of attorney, if she ever got seriously
injured. Kyle had completely forgotten about it because
she’d made this decision so far in the past. Part of her
eighteen-year-old idealism, he supposed. Even though she
had gotten married, she’d never changed that in her will.
Throughout the years, had Anna hoped he would return
someday to her?
Now, he was twenty-nine. Never had he thought he’d be
pulling emergency medical leave to see Anna. Kyle had
always expected to be the one to die, not her. She was too
beautiful, too filled with life, to ever die. And she
almost had.
The door opened. Kyle stared at Anna. She was tall and lean
like a willow, dressed in a bright red cable-knit sweater,
jeans and sensible leather boots. Her ginger-colored hair
lay in thick red-gold tresses around her shoulders. As Kyle
gazed into her forest green eyes, his breath hitched. Anna
had always reminded him of a gossamer fairy found between
the pages of a book. Her face was oval, eyes wide set with
a full mouth that had always curved into an infectious
smile.
Now Kyle saw her once perfectly aligned nose had been
broken. When had it happened? The break didn’t ruin the
soft beauty of her face, but it bothered him that she had
suffered. As he hungrily sponged her into himself, he saw
more unsettling signs of her injuries.
Usually, her cheeks were tinged pink, flushed with life,
but not now. There was gauntness to her face, telling him
she wasn’t eating well. And the dancing gold highlights
that had always dappled the green depths of her eyes were
missing. Anna was pale, her eyes lifeless, her full mouth
compressed, as if she were still in pain. Her hand came to
rest on the wooden jamb, and Kyle saw her waver just a bit.
Was she dizzy? Was the head injury causing all of this?
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get home sooner,” he said simply,
hands at his side. “How are you doing, Anna?”
She stared up at him, gripping the jamb with her long,
slender fingers. Her voice broke and she stepped to the
side, gesturing for him to enter the warmth of the foyer.
“You didn’t have to come, Kyle.”
He moved past her and took the door and closed it behind
him. As he stomped his feet on the thick rug, the snow fell
off his boots. His heart beat hard in his chest. He ached
to open his arms and sweep Anna into them. He saw the
wariness in her eyes and sensed how fragile she really was.
When Anna turned her head to the left, he saw a two-inch
scar above her ear, the area still red. Kyle assumed it was
the blow that had caused her coma.
“I wanted to come, Anna. I didn’t get the emergency message
about your condition for two weeks because my team was out
on a long-range patrol.” Wearily, he added, “I would have
come sooner, but I couldn’t,” he told her, watching her
wrap her arms around her waist, as if chilled. Or
defensive. He hated helplessness and felt it crawling
through him.
“I-I didn’t really expect you to come home at all,” she
offered quietly, giving him an understanding look. “I know
your SEAL family comes first.”
Frustration thrummed through him. “I was out on an op,
Anna. I returned three days ago from it and found out about
your medical condition.” Emotion colored his deep tone. “I
wanted to come home. To be here for you.” And he saw a bit
of life come to her eyes over his sincere words. “You put
me down as POA. Remember that? When we were eighteen? It
was a long time ago.”
“Jepson reminded me of it. I’d completely forgotten about
it.”
God, how badly he wanted to haul Anna into his arms. She
appeared not only fragile, but more wraith than human, as
if she might disappear at any moment, gone forever. His
heart raged with need for her and Kyle flexed his fingers,
forcing himself not to reach out and touch Anna. He’d made
it clear seven years ago that the SEALs were his family,
not her. He never regretted his words more than he did
right now. He’d spoken them out of anger and hurt after she
refused to marry him.
“I wanted to be here for you, Anna.” His throat tightened.
Aching in ways he couldn’t even name or control, Kyle added
a slight smile, “Hey, you were always there for me.
Remember? When I fell off that horse and landed in barbed
wire?” He held up his left hand, pulling back the sleeve on
his jacket, revealing the thin crisscross of white scars
from that day. “You took care of me? Tore up part of your
T-shirt to make a bandage out of it to wrap my bleeding
arm?”
She looked down at her feet, her mouth softening. “Yes, of
course, I remember.”
To hell with it. Kyle stepped forward, placing his finger
beneath her chin, making eye contact with Anna. There was
such longing in her eyes that it momentarily shocked him.
Longing for him? Could it be? Dropping his finger, he
rasped, “Well, you’ve just fallen into another kind of
barbed wire, Anna. And I want to be here for you if you
want me.”
Above all, Kyle didn’t want to stay if she didn’t want him
around. The years between them had been long and desolate,
but dammit, he felt that same warm, powerful connection
with her right now. His feelings had never dimmed through
the years. Not once. Now he felt an amplified intensity to
them.
She lifted her head a little more confidently, held his
gray gaze. “It’s…just that it’s a shock to see you, is all,
Kyle. I never really expected you to come home even though
you were my POA.”
That hurt worse than a bullet going through his leg, which
it had. Trying not to wince at her barely spoken words,
Kyle saw how changed Anna was from before. It had to be due
to the concussion. “I’m here,” he told her firmly. “I’ve
got thirty days of medical leave, Anna. There’s no other
place I’d rather be.”
“That sounds good,” she whispered unsteadily, searching his
eyes. “I know it’s hard for you to leave your SEAL family.”
Kyle wanted to deny all of that right now. Instead, he
rasped, “Right now, you’re the center of my universe, Anna.
Just you. Okay?” He forced himself not to lift his hand and
caress her pale cheek. For a moment, he saw hope flare in
her dark eyes. And then, it vanished. He swore he could
feel Anna’s yearning for him as much as he felt for her
right now. But it was all water under the bridge.
“Are you hungry? You’ve been traveling. I made a pot of
vegetable beef soup earlier today. Why don’t you come into
the kitchen and eat? We can talk there.”
Kyle watched her walk. Anna wasn’t steady and he slipped
his hand beneath her left elbow, cutting his long stride
for her sake.
“It smells great,” he offered. “Are you okay?” He searched
her profile. Anna was a cattleman’s daughter. She was the
only child of Paul and Nancy Campbell. The family had a
hundred-year ranching history in this part of Montana. Anna
had always been strong and confident, but now she seemed
just the opposite to Kyle. And it scared him.
She grimaced. “My head.” She pointed to the scar above her
left ear. “The neurologists are telling me with a grade-
three concussion I’ll have some dizziness and maybe other
symptoms for a while. Eventually, they said, they’d go
away.” She opened her hand. “Right now, since being
released, I deal with dizziness. It just comes and goes. I
don’t have any control over it, and I wish I did.” She
looked up, no doubt seeing his concern. “I’ll be okay,
Kyle.”
“You’ve been out of the hospital how long?”
“Three days. Every day is better,” she assured him,
stopping at the entrance to the kitchen. “I’m going to let
you get the bowl down from the cupboard and take as much
soup as you want.” She gestured toward the gas stove, where
a five-quart pot sat. “I don’t trust my equilibrium that
much tonight.”
Kyle guided Anna to one of the heavy oak chairs and pulled
it out for her. His fingers tingled where they met her
elbow. “Do you remember where everything is?” she asked.
He smiled and shrugged out of his coat, placing it over the
chair next to Anna. “I think I do. Are you hungry? Can you
eat a little something, too?”
Anna had become thin, and it pained him. He knew her
parents had died in an auto wreck a year ago. Running a
huge ranch like this took more than one person. All the
weight of responsibility had fallen on Anna’s slender
shoulders. Automatically, Kyle found himself wanting to
protect her, lift her burden, give her the time she needed
to heal herself.
“Maybe I’ll try just a little.”
Kyle moved to the drain board and opened up a cupboard
where the blue-and-white Delft-patterned bowls were kept.
It was so easy to fall back into the routine of how they’d
grown up together. He and his parents had eaten with Anna’s
parents every night. His father had been the foreman for
the ranch. They were like extended family, and damned if
anything had ever felt so fitting as this right now.
“You’re thin, Anna.”
Walking to the stove, Kyle unhooked a metal ladle from the
wall, opened the lid and inhaled the flavorful scents of
the soup. He piled his bowl high with beef chunks,
potatoes, carrots, onions and peas and put about a third as
much in a bowl for Anna.
“It’s the work,” she admitted, resting her hands on the
long, rectangular oak table.
“Don’t you have a foreman?” he asked, handing her the bowl
and giving her a soup spoon. And then Kyle remembered that
Jepson had told him Trevor Bates, the foreman, had been
driving the truck to Great Falls with Anna when the
accident had occurred. It had killed Bates outright and
damned near killed Anna. As he sat down at her left elbow,
he noticed how her eyes darkened with grief.
“I did…but Trevor died in the accident.” She dragged in a
ragged breath and slowly moved her spoon through the thick,
hearty soup. “I still don’t remember the accident. Nothing…
I couldn’t even be there for his funeral.”
“I’m sorry,” Kyle murmured, reaching out and briefly
touching her arm.
“There’s a lot to do around here,” Anna uttered tiredly
before sipping the soup.
Kyle hungrily dug into the beef and veggies. He watched her
eat, and she seemed tentative about the food. Between bites
he asked, “Are you not hungry?”
“I am.” Then Anna shrugged. “I get nauseated off and on.
Sometimes, food triggers it. The doctors said in time that
will go away, too.”
Which was why she was so pathetically thin, Kyle thought.
He smiled into her eyes. “Can I give you my appetite? I can
guarantee you, I’m going back for another bowl here in a
few minutes.” He was starved for good, home cooking. Anna
had cut up the vegetables and added the spices, and this
soup had been made with love as far as Kyle was concerned.
She seemed to rally beneath his teasing and picked at her
clothes. “I lost twelve pounds in two weeks. Can you
believe that?”
“Yeah,” he said bluntly. “You look like a toothpick, Anna.
And that worries me.” He motioned to her bowl. “Come on,
get some of the meat into you. I’ll even spoon-feed you if
you want.”
Her cheeks suddenly flushed pink. Anna was blushing. She
used to do that all the time when they were growing up. The
first time Kyle had leaned over on his horse and given Anna
a peck on the cheek when they were thirteen, her cheeks
turned as red as an apple.
Giving him a wry look, Anna said, “No, I can feed myself.
You’re wolfing down your food.”
Kyle felt heat steal into his cheeks as he looked down at
his nearly emptied bowl. “That’s what we do. When I first
joined the Navy I learned to eat fast.”
There was that sadness in her eyes again. Anna had once
dreamed of them being married, having a family, sharing
their love here on this sprawling ranch. His heart clenched
and he felt guilty. He could remember when Anna was eight
and she had her dolly in her arms, telling him that someday
they would be married and they’d have more dollies. God,
the innocence of childhood. And he’d gone off to the Navy
and left her.
He’d tried to convince her to marry him at twenty-two and
follow him out to the West Coast, out to SEAL Team 3
headquarters at Coronado Island. Anna had refused. Kyle
never forgot that tearful, gutting day. He’d bought a set
of wedding rings and come home on leave to propose to Anna.
And she had burst into tears, sobbing, making him feel like
a selfish bastard. Kyle couldn’t handle a woman’s tears
very well at all. He didn’t know any man who could.
How many times had he replayed that conversation in the
living room of this ranch house? That Anna was afraid he’d
be killed in combat. And where would that leave her? What
if she was pregnant? Or they had children? Where would he
be? Never home. Never there as a father to his children, or
a husband to her. Anna was right on all accounts.
In the end, he took the rings, pocketed them and understood
why she refused to marry him. He could give her nothing
except worry, loneliness and maybe a funeral because SEALs
led dangerous lives. And they were rarely home to help the
wife or be a parent to their children even when stateside.
It all fell on the shoulders of the wife. He never blamed
Anna for her decision. He blamed himself.
Sliding the chair back, Kyle walked over to the stove and
put another heaping amount of food into his bowl and then
sat down. “How can I help you while I’m here?” he asked
her.
“You can help Jepson. We have wranglers, but many of them
are going home for Christmas and it’s leaving us
shorthanded. He needs another wrangler.”
“Okay. What else? What about you, Anna?” He looked around
the bright white kitchen with red and green curtains across
the heavily frosted windows. There was a huge fireplace in
the living room that moved heat everywhere within the two-
story ranch house. Already the blizzard outside was coating
the double-paned windows, the temperature dropping
drastically.
“I’ll be okay, Kyle. If you could just help Jepson, that
would take a huge load off my shoulders.”
“Do you need to be driven into Great Falls to see your
doctors? Any other medical appointments?”
She wrinkled her nose. “No one is going anywhere with this
blizzard. I have my medications and I’ll be fine. Just lots
of sleeping and rest are what they prescribed. I have an
appointment in Great Falls in two weeks.”
Nodding, Kyle watched her sipping her soup. She was trying
to eat, he realized. For him. He felt euphoric. And then
reality crashed down on him. Was Anna going to count the
days until he left? Again? Always? That tormented him. It
had to hurt her, seeing him again. Did she still want a
life with him that she couldn’t have?
Anna was a good person who always did right by others. She
was a hard worker, honest as the day was long, and was
always there when Kyle had needed her in the past. He would
be here for her.
“I noticed a tree holder in the corner,” he said, hitching
a thumb toward the flagstone living room. “For your
Christmas tree?”
“Tom had just put it down before the accident. He and I
were going up to Christmas Tree Hill the day after we got
back from Great Falls, and cut two trees down. One for here
and one for the wranglers’ bunkhouse.”
Kyle nodded, holding her gaze. “Would you like to do it
with me? Remember every year as kids we’d go up there with
our parents? They’d let us find just the right trees for
our homes.” His heart squeezed with all those fond
memories, the laughter and fun they had choosing the
Christmas trees. He saw Anna considering his idea and
wasn’t sure if she was well enough to drive up there and
tromp around in the snow, looking for a tree.
“Yes, I’d love to do that, Kyle.”
Hope and emotion were combined in her suddenly husky tone.
For a split second, Kyle swore he saw moisture in Anna’s
green eyes, but just as suddenly, it was gone. Had he
imagined it? The look of longing in her expression was
there to read. The joy in her eyes was there, too. Kyle
felt his heart expand. God, he wanted nothing more than to
lift her depressed spirits. He’d give his right arm to see
her smile instead of that sad curve to her lips that always
haunted her mouth instead.
She had a lot to be grieving about. The loss of Tom was a
huge blow to a ranch of this size. Anna had the innate
ability to make everyone feel nurtured by her maternal
warmth, to be inclusive of everyone, as if those who worked
at the ranch were like family to her, too. And that was
just the way Anna was built.
Right now, Kyle was feeling that warmth exuding from her
toward him. That invisible sensation of being special, of
being loved and cosseted by her.
“This blizzard isn’t a good time to do much of anything,”
he said, eating the hearty soup with enthusiasm. Kyle saw
she’d finished just about everything in her bowl, a good
sign. He was grateful Anna had an appetite. Kyle knew from
too many experiences that on patrol, if a team member got
wounded or killed, no one had an appetite. They forced
themselves to eat because there was no choice. The only way
to get back to the FOB was to continually eat food and keep
hydrated.
“Maybe in three or four days?” Anna asked.
“Yeah,” he murmured, cleaning up the last of the food in
his bowl.
“Let’s see what Jepson says about the road up to the hill,”
she counseled, pushing the emptied bowl away.
“Sounds like a plan.” Giving her a fond look, he said, “You
ate everything.”
Touching her stomach, Anna made a slight shrug. “It must be
you, Kyle. I haven’t eaten this much since returning home
from the hospital.”
Preening inwardly, Kyle wanted to believe her. He knew he
had influence over Anna. Despite her hesitancy, her
reluctance to share any feelings with him, he sensed it. If
the SEALs didn’t give him anything else, they had given him
a powerful, unquestioned intuition. And if Kyle was
accurately reading Anna, she was more than glad to see him.
It almost felt like old times when they were young, naive
and innocent to the ways of the world. And Kyle was aware
that his decisions had made Anna sadder than anyone else’s
actions had in her life.
“Where would you like me to bunk?” he asked her, holding
her gaze. Once again, her cheeks flamed pink. Why? Kyle
knew there was a bunkhouse for wranglers near the main
ranch house. He found himself resisting going there because
he wanted to remain close to Anna in case she needed help.
If nothing, else, he could at least support and assist her
if necessary. It ate at his sensitized conscience that he
would be here for only a month.
“You can have the guest bedroom down the hall.” She
gestured gracefully toward that direction. “If that’s okay
with you?”
Okay? Hell, it was perfect. And already, Kyle was plotting
and planning when he could kiss Anna, feel her lush lips
blossom beneath his onslaught, feel her heat combine with
his. Because when they kissed, the real world went away and
only the two of them existed in that exquisite, heated
moment. And damn, he wanted to take her to bed, love her
gently, love her until he would hear those beautiful sounds
caught in her throat, feel her convulse around him.
Was it all a dream? Kyle was a realist. He knew from past
experience Anna would refuse to go to bed with him ever
again. Because if she did, Kyle knew she would agree to
whatever he wanted from her. And the Montana woman, the
pragmatist, knew better. She would not sell her heart for
one night in his arms. Or even thirty nights. It had to be
forever or not at all.
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