He put his cup on the ground and faced her. “That we’re running out of time, and I’m in love with you.” He paused and studied her.
Caitlin held her breath, torn between the joy filling her and the impossibility of that love leading to a future with this man.
“I want you to know that,” Holt continued before she could gather her wits to form a reply. “I never expected…I guess you never know when it’s going to happen. When you find love. I know I have.” He brushed a bit of windblown hair off of her cheek. “I hope you feel the same way.”
Caitlin’s heart stopped, then beat a frantic pace in her chest, sending her blood pulsing to her extremities. Heat and cold washed through her, one after the other, over and over. She did feel the same, but she’d never expected to hear those words from the very guarded Holt Ridley. And not at a time like this, when he was about to discover if his life would include a father he’d never known.
“Caitlin? Say something.” He reached for her, but when she didn’t answer immediately, he drew back.
“I do,” she choked out around the lump in her throat. “Feel the same way, I mean.” Caitlin coughed and waved a hand in front of her face when Holt reached for her. “I’m in love with ye, too. I just didn’t expect?—”
“That I could let you inside my walls? I’m surprised about that, too.”
“And that ye could ever say the words.” She took a steadying breath, swallowed, and touched his arm. “You’re right. You don’t get to choose when you find love. But you do get to choose what to do about it. So, what shall we do? I live in Scotland, and you in California. Or here. I?—”
“Not here,” he replied just as a fireworks display lit the night sky in the direction of the harbor. “But we can work something out. As long as we choose each other. Six months in each?”
Caitlin’s gaze was drawn to the bright display. It was impossible to ignore the booms as each burst showered colored lights down onto the village. “That would be horribly expen?—”
“I can handle it.”
“Ach, aye. I guess I don’t know how to imagine living with that kind of wealth.”
“But you’ll enjoy learning.”
Caitlin twisted on the bench to face him. “I don’t care about that. I care about you.”
“I know, and I’m grateful. I want?—”
A hoarse shout rose above the background noise of Christmas music and the happy rumble of many voices in the square reacting to the display above them. Then a scream sounded and shocked silence followed for a moment before voices resumed, tense and urgent.
“What’s happening?” Caitlin asked, jumping to her feet and trying to see where the commotion was coming from. The colorful lights on the central tree took on a surreal haze as smoke from the fireworks drifted past.
Holt stood beside her as more shouts filled the night, then he grabbed her hand and tugged her in that direction. They passed frantic mothers rushing children out of the square. Others, mostly men and teenagers paralleled their path toward the disturbance. Something had happened to destroy the joyful celebration, and the lights and faltering music suddenly seemed out of place. Caitlin dreaded what they might see. “Did the fireworks set something ablaze?” Had someone been hurt? Or killed?
In moments, they spotted a tattered-looking man waving a butcher knife and sobbing in front of the huge, central Christmas tree. Medals and military insignia covered the faded fabric of his ragged jacket.
“What the hell?” Holt had barely uttered the words when a town constable appeared, waving people back from the vicinity of the tree. He must have ordered the fireworks paused because they sputtered to a stop and the square got quiet except for the sound of voices raised in fear. Mutterings reached her, something about a homeless vet, but that was all she understood. How sad.
The constable approached the man, speaking to him in a voice too low to understand from where she and Holt stood. But when the man waved his knife in an arc in front of him, then brought it up to his own throat, the constable stopped several meters away.
“No!” Caitlin breathed. “He can’t do that. My God, there are children everywhere.”
What had driven this man to such a desperate act? And why here? And now? If he had fought for his country, surely he would want to protect the children who flocked to an event such as this. Had the fireworks triggered something within him that he couldn’t control?
She spotted Doc Coates approach on the constable’s other side and give them a nod of recognition. She clutched Holt’s arm, but in this situation, all thoughts of their purpose in coming to meet him to reveal the results of the paternity tests fled.
Doc Coates spoke urgently to the constable for several moments, low enough that she couldn’t hear what he was saying. But he must have convinced the constable of something. The man nodded and Doc Coates turned and made a quick gesture behind him.
A medium-sized mixed-breed dog approached the distraught man, long floppy ears bouncing as it trotted forward. The dog stopped a pace away in front of him and sat, looked up with sad eyes and whined.
Caitlin held her breath. What would the man do? Was the dog in danger? Would Doc Coates have sent it forward if he thought it could be harmed? She felt Holt shift his stance beside her, tension apparent in the stiffness of the arm brushing hers, but she couldn’t look away from the tableau in front of the tree to check on Holt.
Surprised or distracted by the dog’s approach and friendly demeanor, the distraught man lowered the knife from his throat. He made no other threatening move. He simply held the blade against his chest, his gaze on the dog.
Caitlin feared the constable would rush the man while the dog distracted him, but he didn’t. The dog stood and stepped forward, never taking its gaze from the man. When the man didn’t move, the dog licked the empty hand by his side and pushed against his leg, nuzzling him, then licked his hand again. Time seemed to freeze as the dog gazed up into the man’s tortured face.
The man tossed the knife aside and fell to his knees. He wrapped his arms around the dog, smothering sobs in its soft fur.
