by Dora Hiers
Camdon sat on the bench in front of the fire pit, his elbows resting on his thighs, his head bent. Praying? Knowing him, he probably was.
She pressed her fingertips to the frigid glass, as if she could draw from her friend’s strength, from his faith, enough to reenergize her spirit, to give her the courage to press on.
God, are You there? Are You listening? Did You hear what Daniel just said? What will I do if I lose my job? I have a daughter to support, a grandmother to care for in her advancing years. Violet needs braces, and the house…oh, the house would have to wait now for sure. Her heart cried out to God. Did He hear? She couldn’t tell.
“Are you still there?”
Huh? She startled at the voice so close to her ear, for a minute forgetting that Daniel was still on the phone, that her world hadn’t just shattered into a million tiny pieces at her feet.
“I’m sorry, Sierra. I hate to break this to you over the phone, especially while you’re gone, but I just wanted you to be prepared for when you came back. And—”
He didn’t sound sorry, and she didn’t want to hear any more bad news. She’d already heard enough. For goodness sake, Christmas was breathing down her neck. A shudder racked her body, starting at her shoulders and working its way down to her toes. She brushed icy fingertips across the moist hollows under her cheek, letting the curtain drop back in place, and turned around to face the empty room.
“It’s okay, Daniel. I understand.” Did she? Wasn’t there some other alternative? How could they let her go? She knew, though, deep down, that their department had operated on bare bones for several years now. Each budget cut sliced deeper, and they bled more employees. Up until now, they’d been mostly young part-timers.
“We’ll talk when you get back. I’ll see what I can do between now and then.” His heavy sigh and worried tone offered little in the way of reassurance.
Would her first day back at work on Monday be the last? Who would take care of the seniors? A strangled sob made its way up from her chest. She coughed to cover it up. “Thanks, Daniel.”
She disconnected and tossed the phone on the bed. Then she threw herself on top of it.
9
Something was wrong.
Camdon could see it in her smile. The pain behind her eyes. The occasional quiver of her lips. The way she dipped her head, the dark fringe of hair hiding her face more often than not. What had happened since he’d walked her to her room late this afternoon? Whatever it was, he intended to find out.
He caught up with her on the way to the resort’s meeting room where the seniors were gathering to play cards. He gripped her elbow, tugging her to a stop next to the wall in the crowded hallway. If he didn’t chat with her now, he wouldn’t get a chance until later tonight. “Hey.”
“Excuse me.” Ms. Esther scooted by, those silly racing stripes painted on the rubber balls bringing a smile to his lips.
Until he turned back around and saw the tear slip down Sierra’s cheek. The one she tried to hide with a quick swipe of her palm and by averting her head, that blanket of hair covering half of her beautiful face.
“Hey.” He nudged her chin around to face him. His fingers grazed her jaw, his touch gentle and light. “What’s the matter?”
Her palm covered his fingers, her touch icy cold. “Not now, okay? I’ll explain later. I—” Her gaze flitted to the last senior hobbling into the room. The door to the gathering area closed, and the voices and noise from inside muted to a low rumble. Her lips quivered again. “I…they need me to get them started with their game.” When she lifted her face, he could see the trouble she was having keeping it together.
“I think they’d be all right without you for a few minutes.”
She gasped, her mouth gaping. She shook her head. “It’s my job, Camdon.” Her chin dipped to her chest.
He framed her face. “Hey. What’s going on here?”
Tears sparkled from her lashes but never dropped. Her chest swelled with her deep breath. Her mouth separated as if to explain.
A door opened, and laughter and chatter spilled into the hallway. He glanced at the interloper, wanting to strangle the person.
Sierra’s grandmother. He should’ve known.
“What’s keeping you?” Wilma’s gaze skittered to his hands, still curved along the smooth skin of her cheeks. Her eyebrows narrowed. Accusation edged her voice. “Ah. I see.”
Sierra flashed him a beseeching look. “Later. All right? I promise.” With icy fingers, she pulled his hands down and backed away from him.
He dropped his arms to his side and debated his next step. Should he pull rank? Insist? No, she wouldn’t appreciate that, and he wouldn’t, either. She was good at her job, and she spent much of her time, both on and off the job, loving and caring for these older folks, some without loved ones nearby to dote on them. And Sierra did. She didn’t need him butting in. Besides, a firm stance wouldn’t bode well for Operation Romance Sierra. What she needed was his love and understanding.
Wilma’s head disappeared behind the soft click of the hall door closing, and he finally nodded, his jaw clenching with a need almost greater than he could harness. A need to shower her with love, with a lifetime of kisses. “All right. But not much later.”
“What? Demanding all of a sudden, are we?” With her head tilted, she forced a smile to her lips, her tone going for teasing, but not really pulling it off.
He kept his expression tender, his voice soft. “When my best friend is so obviously hurting, yes.”
Her eyes melted like an emerald gold, precious and priceless jewels glinting with unshed tears. The curve of her lips turned into something real and genuine. Her fingers locked around his forearms. “Thank you, Camdon.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets to keep from tugging her against his chest. Would he ever be able to tell her how much she meant to him? What her smile did to his pulse? How her sweet, gentle spirit had latched on to his heart and wouldn’t let go?
She turned, and her boots took her into the gathering room, her shoulders slumped. As if it was just her against the world.
If only she would let him share her burdens and her sorrows, and kiss away the pain, the misery from her past. He breathed deep of the subtle scent she left behind, taking a second to compose himself before he followed her in.
God, please show Yourself to Sierra in a mighty way. Use me, Lord. I’d like to be the man she seeks out when life bears down on her, but more than that, I want her to know You, Your comfort, the security of Your arms and the joy of trusting You.
Camdon pushed back his shoulders, priming himself for the laughter and ribbing of the good-natured seniors before opening the door. How did Sierra do her job on days like today? When it looked like all she really wanted to do was crawl back in bed and pull the covers over her head.
****
How could she lose her job?
Who else would love these precious souls? Who would see to it that they got together for fun and laughter? Or to make sure that they exercised to maintain their core balance?
Nobody!
She huffed a sigh, her lips pulling into a smile as Ms. Martha yelled out “Bingo.” They’d transitioned from cards to Bingo what seemed like hours ago. Sierra stole a quick glance at her watch as she checked the sweet lady’s card. No. Just one hour to be precise. Nine thirty. Could she call it a night already? Or would they revolt?
Next to Martha, Ms. Esther stifled a huge yawn behind her hand. That settled it.
“Looks like a good Bingo to me. Congratulations, Ms. Martha.” Sierra handed the woman her prize, a free pass for swimming aerobics, and turned to the crowd, just now noticing the fatigue in their faces and their droopy shoulders. “I think we’ll call it a night now. We have a big day tomorrow. We’ll meet in the same room for breakfast at seven thirty and then off to tour the mountains. For those of you late niters, feel free to keep mingling.”
A commotion to the left drew Sierra’s attention away from Camdon’s appro
ving nod. Monty huddled close to Wilma, whispering loudly in her ear about finding a spot to get some fresh air. Hadn’t they already gotten enough fresh air earlier today?
“What’s that frown for?”
She hadn’t seen Camdon sneak up on her, but suddenly, he was at her side, extending her jacket. He helped her slide her arms into it and then guided her to the exit that led to the courtyard.
“That’s all I need to add to my worry list today.” She scoffed, flashing another glare at her grandmother, but Wilma only turned to Monty again.
“What’s that?” His gentle voice softened the sting of her grandmother’s rejection.
Her grandmother! The same lady who’d insisted that men were only out for one thing, and that Sierra should give them a wide berth. After all, she didn’t want to be in the same predicament, pregnant and alone. Basically, a warning that she wouldn’t have a place to stay if she got pregnant again. “Wilma and Monty. Witnessing my grandmother acting all goo-goo eyed at the silver-haired playboy.”
“Come now, Sierra. That’s hardly fair. I haven’t seen Monty this animated in a long time. Nor has he flirted with anybody else this entire trip. His focus has strictly been on Wilma.”
“You’re right, I know.” She’d known the widower a long time. And, honestly, she hadn’t seen him date anyone since his wife’s death about four years ago. She scrubbed a guilty palm across her cheek, bracing herself for the blast of cool air when Camdon pushed open the door.
“But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” She might feel repentant over calling him a playboy, but that didn’t mean she should encourage the two of them to date. Wait until she got her grandmother alone later tonight. Wilma would hear some of her own phrases slung back at her.
She sank down on the cushion in front of the glowing fire pit. Her handsome friend settled in beside her and gestured for her to turn her back toward him.
“No, you don’t.” Camdon’s fingertips danced along her shoulders, rubbing out the kinks. She closed her eyes and allowed his kind deed to release the burden that had robbed her of her usual joy tonight. “But don’t you want Wilma to be happy?”
“Happy?” Her head jerked, her eyebrows dipping in disappointment over his poor choice of words. “Being with a man doesn’t make you happy.”
His fingers stilled, and she wanted to cry out for him to keep going. Instead, she stifled the urge as his hands twirled her around to face him. Him and his serious expression. She wanted to smooth out the pulse that kept ticking way back on his whisker-roughened cheek, yearned to graze her fingertips across the tightly clamped jaw. To whisper for him not to worry about her, but truthfully, his concern felt kind of nice. Always had.
“You’re right, sweetheart. It’s not just being with a man. The happiness should come from knowing a person, from enjoying time with them, feeling comfortable enough to share your dreams, your worries…”
Sweetheart?
His voice trailed off as her breath vacated her lungs in a whoosh. He had to have felt it, heard it even, because his hands tightened around her shoulders. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t tear her gaze away from the autumn speckled flecks glimmering from his expressive green eyes.
She gulped, blinked. What was going on here? Too much worry about Wilma and Violet, that’s for sure. Or maybe it was this comfy bench, parked right in front of a glowing fire. The orange flames flickered, sending off romantic sparks to pierce the hearts of all who gathered around.
Whatever it was, she didn’t want to have anything to do with it. She pulled back, just enough that Camdon’s arms dropped away from her shoulders. She regretted that, but it was time he knew the truth. “I guess I’ve only ever seen the ugly side of men.”
It took him a minute, but he finally nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Violet’s father?”
“Yeah.” She relaxed back against the bench. It was a long story. “Him and my stepfather.”
“What happened?” He slid his fingertips through the ends of her hair, distracting her, but not enough that she couldn’t recall all the gory details.
“It’s not a pretty story.”
“They rarely are, but if you’re ready to share, I would like to hear it.”
That was one of the traits she liked most about Camdon. As crazy as his calendar was, he always spared the time to listen.
“My parents divorced when I was two. I had eight glorious years of being an only child, feeling as if I was being sliced down the middle. One half for each parent.” She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice but failed.
“That bad, huh?”
“Each one wanted equal time. They fought constantly, bickering over child support.”
He nodded, his steady gaze prodding her to continue.
“Then my father remarried and practically instantly, I had two sisters.”
“How old were you?”
She shrugged. “Eleven. Twelve. All I can really remember is feeling squeezed out when I visited him. He never had time for me anymore. It was always about the babies.” Even now, the memories over a decade old, still pinched her heart. She swiped at the lone tear that spilled over onto her cheek. “Somewhere in there my mother remarried.”
“Thad had to be rough.”
“You’re telling me. Especially when she presented me with a brother right away.”
When Camdon’s head dipped to his chest, another urge hit her with the force of a sledgehammer. This time to thread her fingers through his short hair, to comfort him. To resist, she slid her hands between her thighs.
“At that point, I didn’t feel like I was welcome in either home. I started hanging out with a guy from school. He acted like he cared, but all he really wanted was—”
Camdon wound an arm around her shoulder again and pressed her into his side.
Her teeth chattered, and her words came out muffled against his furry sweater. “All he really wanted was to get me in bed. I changed my mind, but it was too late. He wouldn’t let me.” A shudder rippled through her body, remembering those powerful legs and even stronger arms holding her hostage, pinned against the rickety old bed. Remembering the things she lost that night. Her virtue. Her innocence. Her belief that men could be trusted to do the right thing.
But how could she not appreciate what she gained as well? Violet. Her sweet, precious daughter.
“Later, when I told him I was pregnant, he punched me!” She covered her mouth with her hand and sniffled. Her voice came out wobbly. “If that wasn’t bad enough, my stepfather kicked me out of the house that very night and my mother stood by and watched.” Tears dammed behind her eyes. Her head throbbed with the memories, and she couldn’t stop her teeth from clacking together.
“I didn’t know where to go except Wilma’s. I was so worried I would lose Violet.” Her voice finally broke, and her chest heaved with sobs long held in.
Camdon opened his arms, and before she knew what was happening, he lifted her onto his lap and folded her against his chest.
“It’s all right now.” Camdon rocked them slightly, stroking her back. “Violet’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right. Let it out, honey. Just let it out.”
She couldn’t hold anything back now if she tried. The tears rushed down her cheeks in torrents. When all that was left was a hiccup, she pulled away from his damp sweater, rubbing at the moisture as if she could blot it out.
As if she could erase her mistakes, wipe away her failures. But Violet wasn’t one of them.
Maybe just her bad choices. “I’m sorry for falling apart. For unloading on you like that.” She didn’t dare look up at him for fear she’d see condemnation written all over his face. Or pity. She didn’t want that, either.
What did she want? She took a shaky breath. His friendship. His comfortable companionship. Just like always. For nothing to have changed with her revelation. That’s what she wanted. She lowered her lids, waiting for the lecture.
“No reason to be sorry.” He drew her back again
st his chest, and his chin landed on top of her head.
Really? After all that, he wasn’t… “You’re not disappointed in me?”
The slight pressure left her head, and his hands curled around her arms, pulling her away from him. His expression was tender and raw, as if he hurt for her. Something else burned from his eyes, some emotion she couldn’t quite name.
His knuckles skimmed her cheek, kindling a fire in her chest. She caught her breath and held it, waiting for his response.
10
“I’d never be disappointed in you.”
She’d ridden out that terrible ordeal with such grace and courage and raised a precious daughter while holding down a demanding, time-consuming job. How could she ever think he’d be disappointed in her?
She offered a watery smile. “You didn’t know me back then. I was so afraid I would lose Violet that Wilma couldn’t get me out of bed for a week. I was a mess.” Her head wobbled back and forth. She sniffled and swiped at her cheek and nose with the back of her hand.
Thank God for Wilma. Even though Sierra’s grandmother could be a thorn in his side at times, he cringed at what would have happened to Sierra or Violet had Wilma not taken her in.
“You are one of the most courageous women I know.” And one of the most beautiful, but he kept that to himself for now. He’d speak those words and more one day real soon.
She chuckled, even if it was a mite on the weak side and packed with more sarcasm than humor. The amber glow from the fire cast shadows around her eyes. “Courageous? Ha! I guess it may look that way, but actually, Wilma taught me that I needed to handle things on my own. Not to depend on a man to help.”
He understood it all now. Her self-reliance. Her “no dating” policy. “You don’t need to do this on your own, you know.”
Her dark eyebrows lifted to the middle of her forehead, and she bolted from his lap to pace a few steps away. When she turned back, her face twisted with anguish. Her hands curled into fists at her side. “Really? Who’s going to help me? Who can I depend on to feed my daughter, to buy new jeans since she’s already outgrown the ones from last year, to pay for the braces that she needs? To tuck her in at night?”