by Hinze, Vicki
Paul toed off his shoes and crossed his legs, sitting Indian-style. “But God didn’t kill Danny or walk out on you. Dawson and Jeff did. They’re mere men—and Dawson was unbalanced.”
“In my heart, I know that, but my head says that’s all the more reason God should have stepped in and protected us, including Dawson. Yet He didn’t. He didn’t, and my son is dead.” Guilt washed through her like water rushing over the small rocks in the stream. Her throat went tight, and she sought refuge in reciting the poem in her head. Mother, do not weep. Do not despair. Do not regret. The child now absent from your loving arms rests in arms more loving. Strong arms where no tears are shed, no sadness or struggles are borne, no illness suffered and no pain endured. Wise arms that heal and protect, foster contentment and abundant joy. Be at peace, Mother. Your child is happy, safe and content. Your child is embraced in unconditional love.
“Della, are you still blaming yourself for Danny?”
The refuge didn’t come. She shook, sloshing tea against the sides of her glass. “If he were your son, wouldn’t you?”
Paul hesitated, pain twisted on his face. “Yeah, I would. I did. It wasn’t right or fair or just, but when Maggie got hurt, I felt like it was my fault.” He shrugged, scanned the trees. “I should have protected her.”
“So you know exactly how I feel.”
“Maybe not exactly, but close. I’ve always been kind of a parent to Maggie.”
That encouraged Della to open up more, to say things she’d only thought about in the dark of night. “If I’d been home and not off fighting a war, I would have gotten the mail that day. I’d be dead, and Danny would be alive.” Hearing herself saying that aloud had sharp pains twisting in her stomach and shooting through her chest, and the tears she’d blocked and buried and shielded herself against for three long years gushed forth. She couldn’t stop them. “Jeff was right, Paul. So was Dawson.” Baby killer. “Danny is dead and it’s my fault because I wasn’t there to protect him.” She wept, and when Paul pulled her into his arms and circled her, rocking back and forth with her head buried at his shoulder, she sobbed and sobbed.
And she kept on sobbing until she had nothing left. Not another tear.
Wrung dry, she let out a shuddery sigh and sank against him.
“I was there and couldn’t protect Maggie. I get it. But I wasn’t to blame, and you’re not, either, Della.” He pulled back, dabbed at her wet face with a paper napkin in gentle strokes. “I don’t know why God didn’t stop Dawson or Jeff any more than I know why He hasn’t stopped Gary Crawford. I wish I did. I’ve begged and pleaded for understanding and acceptance.”
“How can you keep believing, then?” She didn’t get it—and only now realized she really wanted to get it.
“Because He said we’d go through trials, not that we wouldn’t, and He’d be there with us. It’s hard, but I hang on to that.”
She sniffed, rested her head against his chest, felt his heartbeat strong and steady against her ear. “In a way, I guess He has been. I lost my family but I’ve had you and Miss Addie and the people at work. I felt alone—I thought I had to be to survive—but I wasn’t really. What’s happened with this stalker and setup has proven that, the way everyone’s stepped up to help me. I’m not alone and haven’t been since our first phone conversation.” Her eyes blurred. “Thank you for that, Paul.”
“You’ve done the same for me.” He stroked her hair. “You’ll always have me. That’s a promise.”
She risked looking up at him expecting a smile. There wasn’t one. Instead his eyes shone overly bright, serious and full of unwavering promise. He’d trudged through the tear storm with her. And so moved that he would, so tender and touched, she couldn’t resist. Raising her arms, she nudged his head lower and pressed her lips to his. He welcomed her, but not with the tender and friendly kiss he had shown her in the past. No. No gentle kiss, this. This kiss was unfettered, raw emotion expressed openly, unabashedly and without apology. This kiss was not the kiss of a friend, but of a man invested in a woman. A man both knowing and acknowledging the pain and emptiness of loneliness and longing, seeking reassurance, offering it, yearning to leave no doubt in either of them that they were not alone anymore. They had each other, and that was more than enough.
Startled by sheer intensity, they sank deeper, then deeper still into each other’s arms, into the life-affirming sensation of mattering and being accepted and significant to each other, and when Paul finally parted their lips, breaking the kiss, they stared deeply into each other’s eyes, shaken by all that kiss had conjured and all that had transpired between them.
Della opened her mouth. “That was even better than I dreamed.”
He smiled. “You dreamed about me kissing you?”
“Um, actually, I kissed you.” She started to keep quiet and leave it at that but couldn’t. Not after the connection she’d just experienced. “Thoughts of us kissing like that is all that has gotten me through a lot of nights.”
His eyes warmed, twinkled with that special look he reserved just for her. “I’ve dreamed about you, too, Della.”
“No, you haven’t.” She smiled, squeezed his arm. “You don’t have to say that just because I did.”
“I wasn’t.”
She stilled. Fear and doubt latched on to her and sank in deep, and she sobered. “Oh, no.” Fool! Fool! Fool! “Paul, what have we done?”
“What do you mean?” He went serious. “Della, you look terrified. I’m the same guy I’ve always—”
“I am terrified.” Tears she thought she didn’t have to cry gathered on her lashes. “Everything’s changed. What was I thinking? Why didn’t I think?” Her fingers curled at his shoulder, grasping bits of his soft shirt.
“Think about what?”
Her heart cracked in two. “You’ll leave me just like you’ve left the others.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You don’t get serious. A woman gets serious about you, and you run.” She grabbed his arms. “What am I going to do without you?”
He laughed. Pulled her into his arms and held her head against his chest. His heart beat hard and fast against her ear.
That angered her. “I guess that kiss meant a whole lot more to me than you. How can you laugh at me about this?”
“Because it is what it is.”
“What is what it is?”
“You have nothing to fear.” He kissed her forehead. “I don’t run.”
She stilled. Her anger drained. She looked up at the underside of his chin. “I’ve seen you do it, Paul Mason.”
“No, you really haven’t. You thought you had, but what you’ve seen is me waiting for you to get to a point where you’d really let me into your life. I’m crazy about you. I have been since the first time we talked on the phone. But you were wounded and needed to heal. I didn’t mean for that kiss to happen yet. It just did. But I won’t apologize for it. It was the most amazing kiss I’ve had in my life.”
“Really?” When he nodded, she took a full minute to let that sink in. Then another. Then a third. And finally she confessed, “For me, too.”
“Then let’s just leave it alone for now. You trust me. I trust you. It will all work out exactly as it’s supposed to work out. Let’s just enjoy our picnic and not think for a while. Does that sound okay?”
She smiled. “It sounds better than okay.” He’d said and meant it. He didn’t intend to run. But Paul Mason was a man of habit, and running was a long-standing bad habit.
And everyone with sense knew that bad habits were hardest to break.
* * *
Dusk settled in on the ranch.
Della and Paul sat on the front porch with a huge metal bowl on the floor between them. A burlap sack of beans sat beside it, and it was about two-thirds empty. A smaller bowl was used for the tips being discarded. Jake had given up begging an hour ago and lay sprawled out near Della’s chair.
She snapped a bean and tossed it into the big b
owl. “Today’s been a good day.”
“For me, too. One of the best I’ve had at home in... One of the best I’ve had at home.”
Her heart fluttered. Gratitude filled it that she’d been part of what had made a good day for him. He deserved many good days. More. He deserved everything good life had to offer.
It’d been a pleasant two hours since Warny had returned from church and lunch in town with the bag of beans and announced his fingers didn’t work well enough anymore to snap them. “I wish Madison would get some news. I love being here, but I feel awful, ousting you from your home.” He’d spent nights in the barn with Warny, who apparently snored loud enough to wake the dead.
“I like you being here.” Paul kept snapping. The beans hit the metal bowl steadily. Ping. Ping. Ping.
His phone rang—a throwaway he used to communicate with Madison on her throwaway. He answered it. “Hey.”
Paul whispered it was Madison, spoke briefly, then ended the call and looked at Della. “Detective Cray wants you to call him about Jeff.”
She paused in snapping a bean. “What about him?”
“The woman he’s been seeing reported him missing. Cray told her he’d talked with Jeff, but the woman says he couldn’t have. Jeff hasn’t been seen or heard from in weeks.”
Della frowned. “But Cray did talk with him. He told you so himself. And Jeff told Cray the woman had passed him the message to call Cray.”
“Well, she’s changing her tune now.”
Della snapped a bean, then another. “If Cray said he talked to her and Jeff, then surely he did.”
“Della, his fiancée hasn’t seen him—”
“Fiancée?” The word cut through her like a hot knife.
Paul nodded. “Didn’t I tell you that? Cray said the woman’s planning a Christmas wedding. I thought I’d told you.”
“No. I would have remembered that.” Della swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry. With your injury and everything, I guess... I’m sorry.” He dropped his gaze to the bean bowl. “I can see this has hit you hard.” Paul pulled away visually, in his distant tone and expression.
Her heart rebelled. He thought she still loved Jeff. “It’s not a problem,” she quickly added. From the uncertainty in Paul’s eyes, maybe too quickly. Jeff’s remarrying did bother her, but not for the reason Paul suspected.
Paul studied her for signs that she’d just given him a fine without saying fine. “Do you need a few minutes before calling Cray?”
Definitely gauging her reaction in a big way. After the kisses they’d shared, as close as they’d become, she fully understood that. “No, go ahead.”
“You sure?” He dropped a bean into the bowl. “It’s okay to be rattled about your ex remarrying, you know.”
She gave him a smile—and it was genuine. “If I were rattled, it would be okay, but I’m not.”
“Something is off. If it’s not that, then what is it?”
“Madison told you Jeff hasn’t been seen in Tennessee for weeks. His fiancée hasn’t seen him, and now she’s reported him missing. Cray said Jeff told him he’d been at his cabin and out of touch. There’s a hole in that story.”
“Why?” Easier now, he started snapping beans again. “A lot of mountain cabins don’t have phones.”
“Jeff’s never owned a cabin. He could have bought one, but he hates being away from town. He’s definitely not a tree-loving kind of guy, which is why we need to verify his actual location at the time he and Cray spoke.”
Paul’s expression turned dark. “Surely Cray ran a check on that. Surely—”
“If you’re confident, then we can forget it.” She snapped a bean, tossed it in the bowl.
“Not when you’re at risk.” Paul pulled out a second throwaway phone and dialed. “But the cabin could belong to his fiancée.”
“It could.” Della bent to pull more beans out of the sack. “Ask that, too.”
Paul paused a long minute, then said, “Cray, it’s Mason. When you spoke to Jeff Jackson, where did he say he was?”
He mouthed to Della, “Tennessee.” He tilted the phone to speak into it. “Did you verify ownership of the cabin he was supposedly in?” A pause, then, “I see.”
“They haven’t checked.” Della frowned. “Now ask the question,” she whispered to Paul.
“I don’t know if it’s important. It depends.” Another pause, and then Paul added, “When you two talked, he said he was calling from Tennessee. But where was he actually at the time?” Again, Paul paused, and his expression turned thunderous. “Find out.”
The blood drained from Della’s face, and the warm evening suddenly turned chilly. Jeff could have been anywhere. Could be anywhere. Cray hadn’t checked on the cabin or verified the call location.
Jeff could be her stalker.
* * *
They finished snapping the beans. Cooked and ate dinner. They played Monopoly with Warny until after one in the morning. And still the detective hadn’t called back.
Paul was outraged. Della seemed edgy but not out of sorts about Jeff remarrying. Could Paul trust that? Did he dare? How could she not hold it against him that he hadn’t told her right away? His stomach hollowed.
Warny scooted back from the kitchen table. “Well, that’s it for me.”
“I guess so. You wiped us both out.” Paul forced a smile. “How’d you get so smart on land deals?”
He grunted. “You don’t live as long as I have without picking up a tip or two.” He grunted and groaned, stiff after sitting so long, then ambled toward the back door, pausing to scan the monitors. “Night, Miss Della. See you directly, Paul,” Warny said, then went on outside to the barn.
Della put the top back on the Monopoly game box. “He’s a shrewd player.”
Paul rinsed their glasses at the sink, then put them in the dishwasher. “He’s just plain shrewd. Most people miss that about him.”
“Appearances can be deceptive.” She tiptoed, stretching to put the game back on the top shelf in the little hallway closet. “Guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Della, wait.” Paul dried his hands and then set the dish towel on the counter. “I know it’s late, but if we don’t talk about this, I’ll be up all night wondering.”
“What?” She walked back into the kitchen and stopped next to the stove.
Paul turned to face her, nearly brushing their knees. “Are you really okay with Jeff remarrying?”
“Yeah, I really am.” She shrugged. “It kind of surprised me, and I thought it would hurt, but it just doesn’t. I guess because he wasn’t the man I thought he was. You know what I mean. We all disappoint each other sometimes, but what he did...well, he just wasn’t the man I believed him to be, and I don’t think the man he really is was right for me. I know he can’t be trusted.”
“I’m glad to hear that—not that he can’t be trusted, but that you’re not upset about him getting married.” He swayed his focus from the oven clock back to her and admitted the truth. “I was worried.”
He had been. It’d been evident since he’d told her on the porch, though she’d half attributed that to Cray’s not calling back and the tension getting to him. The tension sure had gotten to her. “Why?”
Paul wrapped his arms across his chest as if preparing to hold in hurt. Shielding himself. Seeing that got to her. Not being sure he’d ever been loved got to her. “Talk to me, Paul.”
“The truth is, having you here...” He stopped short, sighed. “I don’t want to be just your friend. I want more.”
She’d known that from his kiss. Recalling it left her slightly dazed even now. She worried her lip. “You’re an amazing man, and if I could give you more, I’d do it. It’d be a privilege and an honor.”
“You don’t owe me, Della.”
“I do, but that’s not why. Because you really do awe me, Paul. Words are cheap. But you show you care through actions. You always have. I love that about you. The problem is, I don’t know that I hav
e more to give.” She blinked hard, pressed a hand to her chest. “My heart can’t survive another shatter. I can’t take another shatter. I lost everything. You know that.”
“You still feel you have nothing left to lose?”
How did she answer that? Honestly? Did she dare? “No, not really. This is hard.” She grabbed the back of a chair, squeezed. “I have something. With you, I have something special. And I treasure it. But, okay, say we’re more than friends. What if it doesn’t work? What happens to us then? What’s left for either of us?”
“I don’t know.”
“Me, either, but I know I don’t want to find out. Do you?”
He ignored her question and asked his own. “So between the picnic at the creek and now, you’ve thought about us, and you’re not interested in me? As more than friends, I mean.”
Harder still. Much harder. “I can’t say that.”
“Thank goodness.” He stepped closer, clasped her arms. “Look, I know you’re scared. Truthfully, I am, too. All my life, I’ve made myself not need anything from anyone. Not even Maggie. I love her, but I couldn’t need her. But you—”
“You need me?”
“Yeah, I do,” he reluctantly admitted. “I told you that you rescued me.”
Paul needed her. Her. After being shunned, that must have been hard to admit. So hard to realize and accept. “But—”
He placed his fingertips over her mouth, looked deeply into her eyes. “With everything going on, I know now’s not the best time. But this is life, you know? Something’s always going on.”
“Hopefully not the kind of things we’ve had happening, Paul.”
He conceded that with a nod. “I didn’t choose now to feel all I do for you. God did. His timing’s perfect. I trust that, and I trust you.”
She wanted to kiss him again. To lose herself in his arms and forget everything but the two of them. Yet it wouldn’t be fair. Not with their challenges and with the issues between them remaining unchanged. Their differences might be fine today, but what about tomorrow, next week or next year?
“Don’t worry, Della. I’m not pushing. I just wanted you to know that to me you’re more than a friend.” He stroked her arm. “I believe in us and I trust things will work out.”