He tossed the sponge and swung around. “Spit it
out.” She shifted her position and brushed at her skirt
before meeting his eyes. “You’re an adult. You know what
can happen when a man and woman share living space
for any length of time. The minute she realizes what a
catch you are, she’ll be all over you.”
Mike’s temper sizzled. The woman was either dense
or more determined than he’d realized. Either way, he’d
had enough. “Not another word. Please go.” He held up
his hand when she opened her mouth to argue.
His shoulders slumped with relief when the front
door slammed with enough force to shake the pictures on
the walls. He kneaded his temples, in an attempt to stave
off a tension headache.
“Daddy?”
Mustering a smile, he squatted on the floor and held
out his arms to catch the tiny body launching at him.
“What is it sweet pea? Why aren’t you asleep?” Smelling
his daughter’s soapy sweetness momentarily righted his
world.
“Heard yelling. Is Doreen mad?”
Mike chuckled. “You could say that. She won’t be
taking care of you any more, Katy,” he said and braced
himself for a tantrum.
She snuggled closer. “Good. I don’t like her.”
Mike lurched to his feet and picked up his drowsy-
eyed daughter. “What?” How had he misread the signals?
“I thought you and Doreen were friends.”
18
Bridge of Hope
“Can I have a drink of water?”
“Sure, then it’s back to bed.” He stuffed his curiosity
about Katy’s remark and thoughts of Cyn sleeping in the
living room to the back of his mind. Tomorrow he’d tell
Katy about their new houseguest.
Using one hand, he filled a small Dixie cup with
water. “Here you go.”
She drained the cup and handed it back to him.
“Doreen was only nice to me when you were here. Mostly,
she told me to stay in my room and play.”
Mike clenched his jaw. He wanted to pound the
counter. His fury diminished with Katy’s next words.
“Who’s that lady sleeping on the couch?”
He forgot about Doreen. So much for his plan to
explain Cyn’s presence in the morning. “I’ll tell you all
about her when I tuck you in.”
“’Kay.”
Cyn opened her eyes and wondered where she was.
She lay on a brown corduroy couch. A jackhammer
pounded in her head. Her eyes were swollen from all the
tears she’d shed. Awareness returned with the force of
white water in the Hope River during the spring. Peter
was dead. Gone from her life forever. Memories
bombarded her senses. Standing on the Hope River
Bridge, one leg on the rail.
Her body trembled. Oh, God. Had she really thought
about killing herself? Shame battled grief for a front row
seat. “Why are you crying?”
Startled, Cyn opened her eyes. Turning her head, she
came face-to-face with a little girl sitting crossed-legged
on the floor. Mike’s daughter regarded her with a serious
expression way too serious for a child.
“I’m not. See?” Cyn smiled and fought the desire to
reach over and stroke her hair. “You must be Katy.”
Blond curls bobbed as she shook her head. “And
you’re Mrs. Jenks.”
“That’s a mouthful. Call me Cyn.”
19
Pam Champagne
“And you’re gonna stay with us.”
Dread trickled through Cyn’s veins. “Guess so. For a
while anyway.”
“Do you like to play games?”
Mike walked into the room. “Katy, don’t bother Mrs.
Jenks.”
Cyn dropped her gaze unable to deal with the pity
she knew she’d see in Mike’s eyes.
“She said to call her Cyn.”
“Breakfast’s ready. Hope you’re both hungry. Cyn?”
She forced her gaze to his warm smile.
As if reading her mind, he said, “Bathroom’s the
second door on the right in the hall. There’s another
Cyn hurried to the bathroom, splashed cold water on
her face and smoothed her unruly hair as best she could.
A tube of toothpaste lay on the sink. Squeezing a small
amount on her finger, she rubbed it over her teeth, rinsed
her mouth and made a beeline toward the smell of
cooking bacon. Katy had been so open and trusting. She
looked forward to spending time with the little girl.
Mike leaned against the counter with a spatula in his
hand as she entered the kitchen.
Katy sat at the table drinking orange juice. She
patted the seat next to her. “Sit beside me.”
“Sure. I’m starving.”
“Me, too. Hurry up, Daddy.”
Mike pointed his spatula at them. “Just hold your
horses, sweet pea.”
The hunger pains turned to nausea when Mike set a
platter of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon on the
table.
“Don’t even think about it,” Mike warned from across
the table.
Cyn thrust her chin forward. “Think about what? I’m
not very hungry.”
“You’ll eat if I have to spoon the food down your
throat.”
20
Bridge of Hope
Cyn pushed back her chair. Shit. Having an
argument with Mike about whether or not to eat
breakfast would set a terrible example for his daughter.
Katy giggled behind her napkin. “He says that to me
all the time.” She winked and cupped her hand to her
mouth to whisper, “He won’t do it. I promise.”
Cyn sighed and looked at Mike. He grinned and his
green eyes twinkled with suppressed laughter. She
couldn’t help but smile back. Forcing an enthusiasm she
didn’t feel, she spooned some scrambled eggs and bacon
onto her plate. “No school today, Katy?”
“Today’s Saturday. Did you forget?”
The heavy weight of depression settled on her
shoulders. She’d totally lost track of time since the Army
officers had knocked on her door with the news about
Peter. “I guess I did.”
Mike poured a glass of orange juice and slid it across
the table in her direction. “I have the weekend off so I
thought perhaps we could arrange for the movers to bring
your belongings here.”
She coughed a few times and cleared her throat.
“Here? There’s no room. I’ll put it in storage. Or better
yet, I’ll scout around today for an apartment.” She’d never
be able to return to the apartment she’d shared with
Peter.
“That’s not part of the agreement, Cynthia. I have
space above the garage.”
Cynthia? Whoa, the man was ticked off. Looked like
Mike Spencer was determined to stick to the deal they
made last night. She shrugged and snapped shut the lid
on her temper. “Your call.”
“Do you have a job? Enough money saved
to pay a
security deposit, plus first and last month’s rent?”
“No, but—”
“It’ll take a while for the military to process Peter’s
life insurance policy and death benefits.”
Could he read her mind? “I’m not sure living here is a
good idea.”
21
Pam Champagne
“Why not?” Katy piped in.
Mike’s eyes never left her face. “For the moment, you
don’t have a choice. In return for room and board, I would
ask that you take care of Katy on the nights I work.
Before you leave, I’ll find another sitter.”
Cyn frowned and suppressed a shiver at the memory
of the horrible woman who’d verbally attacked her the
night before. “What about Doreen? I thought she took care
of Katy.”
“Not any more,” Katy piped up. “She got jealous, and
Dad fired her.”
“Katy!” Mike shouted at the same time that Cyn
laughed. That one small spill of laughter warmed her and
her stomach actually growled with hunger.
Katy bounded from the chair and skipped across the
linoleum. “Gotta go clean my room.”
“Smart kid,” Cyn said, putting a forkful of pancake in
her mouth.
Mike grinned. “Too damn smart.”
22
Bridge of Hope
Chapter Four
Cyn huddled in the passenger seat, gripping the
folded American flag lying on her lap. Mike swore her
fixed straight-ahead gaze saw nothing. Cyn had started to
come out of her shell in the past few weeks. She’d opened
up. Sadness still lurked in her eyes, but she’d made
efforts to participate in the day-to-day happenings. Even
helped Katy with her homework every night.
The pale woman beside him today was the one he’d
first found on the Hope Bridge.
The cold drizzle that arrived at dawn had turned to a
steady rain during Peter Jenks’ graveside service. Saying
goodbye to the dead in gloomy weather always put him in
a somber mood. Gray skies, moaning winds and soldiers
shedding tears for their downed comrade brought old man
depression knocking on his door.
Cyn’s stamina during the on-base funeral had
astounded him. Hell, she’d been a trooper coping with her
loss. She’d made the arrangements and insisted on
meeting the transport plane that brought Peter’s body
home. She’d done it all with strong determination.
With the arrival of rain, she’d shut down. She’d
barely acknowledged the mourners’ condolences. He’d
kept her in his scope, prepared to rescue her from a sticky
situation should one arise. She’d held her emotions in
check even when TAPS was played.
Cyn’s voice jolted him from his somber musings. “Are
we picking up Katy?”
“Katy is spending the night with her school friend.”
Cyn twisted in her seat. “Because of me?”
Mike chuckled. “No. She’s been hounding me for
23
Pam Champagne
weeks to spend the night with Misty. She loves staying
there. She’ll chatter on for days about baking cookies with
Misty’s mother.” Mike pushed away a spear of guilt for
not providing his daughter with a normal family. She
needed a mother.
“Why haven’t you remarried?”
It shouldn’t have, but her question startled him. “The
infamous inquiry that I get asked at least once a week.”
“I’m curious.”
He bit his tongue to keep from telling her to mind her
own damn business. At least she was talking. “I guess I
haven’t met the right woman.”
“Are you saying no woman could replace your wife?”
Mike frowned as the truth hit him. She didn’t want
to know about him. Cyn wanted to know what her own
future held. She wondered if she’d ever love again.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he hedged. “I have
Katy to think about, as well as myself.” He abruptly
changed the subject as he drove into the driveway. “Your
first appointment with the counselor is tomorrow at nine.”
“So soon?”
He turned off the ignition and his heart skipped a
beat at the fear in her eyes. He reached over and covered
the hand still hanging onto the flag for dear life. “I know
the doctor. I think you’ll like her.”
“Don’t count on it,” she muttered. Her mouth curved
into a smile that even a child would have recognized as
forced. “I’m doing quite well on my own. I don’t need—”
“Forget it, Cyn. A deal’s a deal.” He climbed out of
the truck before she could protest.
The house was eerily quiet without Katy. Perhaps
he’d made a mistake letting her spend the night at
Misty’s. Her boundless energy might be a distraction for
Cyn—keep her thoughts away from the past and worrying
about an uncertain future. She’d gone straight for the
couch when they’d entered the house and now sat there
hugging the flag to her chest.
“Want some coffee?” he asked, hanging his coat in the
24
Bridge of Hope
closet.
That earned him a negative head shake.
“Tea?”
“Nothing, thank you.”
He walked into the kitchen, turned on the burner
under the teakettle, and then whipped together a chicken
and vegetable casserole while the water heated to a boil.
A few minutes later, Mike set two cups of tea on the
coffee table and lowered himself next to Cyn on the couch.
Today, she’d worn her hair knotted at the base of her
neck. In the short time he’d been in the kitchen, she’d
pulled out the pins and blonde curls spilled around her
shoulders.
He reached over to take the flag out of her hands and
the fingers of his right hand brushed her warm breast. A
jolt of desire shot through him like he hadn’t felt since
Mary Jo died. He yanked his hand back and noticed that
she hadn’t reacted to his touch.
He cleared his throat and pulled the flag from her
hands. “When it stops raining, we’ll fly this on the
flagpole in the yard. I can’t think of a better way to honor
Peter’s memory.”
Her expression softened. “Thank you. He would have
liked that.”
Still grappling with his physical response from a
simple touch, he blurted, “How old are you?
She focused puzzled eyes on him. “What?”
His eyes roamed her peaches and cream complexion
and the way her lips slightly trembled. God help him.
What kind of man lusted after woman who’d just buried
her husband? “I just realized that I know so little about
you,” he fudged.
“Oh. My birthday was a few weeks ago. I’m twenty-
four.”
So damn young. He had a good twelve years on her.
“And you?”
Mike laughed. Tit for tat. “A lot older than you.”
She shrugged. “Age doesn’t matter in t
he grand
25
Pam Champagne
scheme of things.”
“Ah, spoken by someone on the right side of thirty.”
He handed her a cup. “It’s green tea. I’ve got a casserole
in the oven. No,” he said when she opened her mouth to
protest. “You need to eat.”
She heaved a sigh. “I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask.” He rose and went to the kitchen to
check on their meal.
Mike pressed his forehead against the cool
windowpane and watched the rain bounce off the
pavement. From the beginning, he’d thought of Cyn as
nothing more than a houseguest—a young woman with a
broken heart who needed help getting back on her feet.
Today, she’d buried her husband. And his mind had
taken a sudden 180º turn without conscious thought.
Shame burned from within. The sooner Cyn got back on
her feet, the better. Either the wind or rain turned on the
outdoor sensor light, drawing his attention to the garage.
Why hadn’t he thought of it before? The mother-in-
law’s apartment where he’d stored her things. Even
though he and Mary Jo had talked about renting it, they
never actually followed through with the plans. Up until
now, he’d always considered it as a storage place. Now it
seemed like an answer to everyone’s needs, his own as
well as Cyn’s. She’d have more freedom, yet he’d be right
here if she needed him. After a time of counseling, it
would be a perfect place to transition to a new life.
Perhaps if he didn’t see her every day, these
unexpected longings would dissipate. Raising his
daughter as a single dad created enough problems in his
life. The last thing he needed was to fall in love with a
grieving widow twelve years his junior.
Thirty minutes later, Mike leaned against the
doorjamb watching Cyn hide her face in the couch pillows.
He knew exactly what emotions churned in her heart.
Peter’s death had left a wound that she doubted would
ever heal. She’d breathe, eat and sleep because people
told her to. Her eyelids fluttered but refused to stay open.
26
Bridge of Hope
She tried to sit up before she lay back and closed her eyes.
Mike remembered all too well the dark void that engulfed