“That was Rob?”
“Yes,” Samantha said, rubbing her forehead.
“He’s cute,” Jenna commented.
“Yes, he is,” Samantha replied ruefully. “We might’ve had fewer problems, if he wasn’t.”
“Did he have any idea he hired you?”
“Judging by the look on his face when he saw me, then no,” she answered, turning back to the Christmas tree, and the task of decorating it. “Besides, he didn’t hire me. He hired our design firm. I just happened to be assigned the project.”
“What a coincidence,” Jenna said sympathetically. “What are you going to do now?”
“I intend to finish decorating this tree. Then I’m going home. I’ll pray about it, and there’s a ninety-nine-point-nine percent chance that I’ll call the office and tell them to assign someone else to oversee this.”
“That’s too bad, but… I understand,” Jenna said sadly. “Do you want me to stay until you’re ready to go?”
“No. It’s fine. Go ahead. You don’t need to wait.”
“Alright,” Jenna said, as reluctant to leave, as she was to stay. Another glance at the window tilted the scale. “Have a happy Thanksgiving.”
“You too,” Samantha replied. She also managed an encouraging smile. Jenna was somewhat reassured, and left.
The door clicked shut behind her, and Samantha sighed wearily. She set the box of ornaments on the coffee table, and sank onto the couch. She held her face in her hands, and wondered all the same ‘whys’ she had for the past two years. She also wondered why, of all the assignments the firm had, was she given this one? Since when did Rob’s dream of becoming a major contractor become a reality? Why did he have to bid on, and win, a huge project so close to Ocotillo? Why did he have to come over here, while she was at the house? And what, exactly, was she supposed to do now?
She sat there for several minutes, praying out her questions. Not that she exactly expected answers. What she really didn’t expect, was the gentle nudge she felt.
She frowned, and argued against the conviction that continued to grow. The more she argued, the stronger it became. She had enough arguments to last until after the new year, but experience taught her all that would do, is prolong her suffering. In the final analysis, she had two choices. Follow that gentle nudge, or don’t. Have peace, or not.
Samantha hurried into her coat, and grabbed her purse. The doorknob was like ice in her hand, and she took a moment to zip her jacket before opening it.
A blast of freezing air struck her in the face, catching her breath, and cutting sharply through her inadequate clothing. While jeans, a sweater, leather boots, and her winter coat were perfectly suitable for all but the harshest of Ocotillo’s weather, they did little to protect her from the onslaught of Pine Mountain’s unexpected winter storm.
Shaking violently, she managed to lock the door behind her, and hurried across the mountain landscape to the model home next door. She grasped the knob, and to her relief, it turned in her hand. She hurried inside, and closed it behind her.
She was thankful for the freedom to take a breath without having it snatched away. She brushed the snowflakes out of her hair and off her shoulders, onto the doormat.
The sound of a saw, or drill, or… some other type of power tool, came from the back of the house. Samantha stomped her feet to remove as much snow as she could, but kept on her coat. It was much colder in model home B, than it was in A.
She rubbed her hands together to restore warmth, as she crossed the living room and followed the hall to the open family room. Through the cutout, on the other side of what would one day be the breakfast bar, she saw the kitchen. Rob stood there, his focus on the trim he was cutting. She knew better than to startle him while he was operating a saw, so she waited. She glanced at the rapidly falling snow through the French doors on the other side of the room, and hoped it wouldn’t take long for him to finish.
As she watched him, sadness filled her.
He switched off the machine, and the harsh sound faded. Samantha spoke while she had the chance.
“Rob… can we talk?”
He froze for a moment, then set aside the saw and slowly removed his safety goggles. By the time he turned to face her, his brown eyes were cold, and his expression impassive. He crossed his arms, leaned back against the maple cabinet, and raised an eyebrow.
“What’s left to talk about? I got the message loud and clear, when you walked out on me two years ago.”
Her gaze wavered, and she looked away.
“Rob… I… I’m sorry,” she said with difficulty.
A brief flicker of surprise crossed his face.
“Why?” he asked shortly.
Samantha took a deep breath, and prayed some more.
“I’m sorry for the things I said before I left.”
Rob held her gaze as he absorbed her words, and tried to gauge her intent.
“I was never with anyone else. Ever. Not like that,” he finally countered. She closed her eyes tightly as she took a deep breath, then looked back at him.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I was upset, and… I didn’t handle that as well as I could have.”
Rob gave her a hard look as he struggled to hide his surprise, and calm the war that raged within. Pride and anger won, and he rolled his eyes.
“And now you’re saying you’re sorry, as if that’ll fix everything.”
Samantha shook her head, her eyes filled with sadness.
“No. I know there’s no fixing it. But I’m sorry for the awful things I said to you, and… no one deserves that. I should’ve done better.”
Rob stared at her incredulously, unable to come up with a response. Samantha didn’t wait for one.
“I hope someday you can forgive me.”
Frustration filled Rob as he tried to understand her. Why was she doing this?
“You think it’s that easy?” he snapped. “I forgive you, then we just go back to the way things were, as if the past two years never happened?”
A shadow crossed Samantha’s face, and she shook her head.
“No. I don’t expect that,” she said softly. “I know there’s no going back.”
Rob glanced away and brushed his hand through his dark hair, as he struggled to control the unwanted feelings that flooded him.
“Is that all, or is there anything else you want to say?” he asked, his voice tight.
“I… guess I… When do you expect the counter installation to be complete?” she managed to ask.
“I don’t expect much. Not anymore,” he said pointedly, and she glanced away. “As for the job, that’s up to mother nature. I’m about to head out. You better do the same.”
She hesitated, then nodded and turned to go. As she took a step away from him, pain replaced the hardness in his eyes.
“I see you’re not wearing your rings,” he swiftly accused. “I don’t know why that should surprise me.”
She hesitated. As she turned back, she glanced at his ring finger automatically. She knew he wouldn’t have it on, he always took it off when operating power equipment. He taught her to do the same thing.
He saw her glance, and raised an eyebrow. He reached in his pocket and took out his wedding band, then put it on and crossed his arms again.
Samantha sighed quietly, and looked away.
“I hope you didn’t lose yours,” he said, seeking a response. “I spent a lot on those rings.”
“I didn’t lose them,” she replied softly.
“Since they obviously mean nothing to you anymore, I’d like them back,” he said coldly.
Samantha slowly reached inside the pocket of her jeans, and retrieved her rings. She missed the surprise in his eyes, and the desperation, as she joined him in the kitchen and quietly set the rings on the sawhorse beside him. She stepped back again, sadness and resignation in her own.
“I’m still waiting on those divorce papers,” he said hurriedly, as she turned toward the door.
>
She could think of nothing to say to that.
“Don’t tell me you never filed,” he continued, his tone mocking. “You’ve made it abundantly clear you don’t want to be with me. What are you holding out for, alimony?”
He hated himself for the pain that crossed her face, but it was better than getting no response at all.
“I don’t want alimony,” she replied, her voice low. “I don’t want anything.”
“Obviously,” he said, bitterness tinging his voice. “I guess you want me to file, then. Is that it? Then you can keep on playing the victim.”
A flash of anger shot through her. A girl could only take so much goading.
But she wasn’t the same girl she used to be. A deep breath, and a reminder that Jesus loved her enough to give His life for her, she didn’t need love or approval from this man, calmed her spirit.
Rob watched her, frowning a little, as he wondered what she would do next. She was probably furious. There was a chance she would throw something at him. He didn’t really care, as long as she did something besides leave. But he did prepare to duck.
Samantha turned back to him, but what he saw in her eyes wasn’t anger.
“I’ll file if that’s what you want.”
What he wanted, was for her to cut it out. What he wanted, was for everything to be alright. What he wanted, was for her to say she was sorry she left him. What he wanted, was for that feeling of guilt to go away and never bother him again. He wanted to go back, and do different, but he couldn’t. He was stuck, and the resignation in her eyes, and the peace, filled him with desperation.
“You’re as heartless as ever,” he lashed out.
She rubbed her forehead briefly, then looked back at him.
“Then be glad you don’t have to put up with me anymore.”
That wasn’t her usual rebuttal, and he felt even more desperate.
“I am,” he snapped, but that peaceful resignation never left her eyes.
She turned without a word, and then she was gone.
As soon as she hit the hallway, she hurried back to the front door as quickly as her feet would carry her. She was anxious to get out, get away from here, and get back home. That encounter was incredibly hard. The desire to lash out, to fight back, to cut him to ribbons with her words like she used to, was almost more than she could withstand. But she wasn’t on her own anymore, and she was able to withstand. It made her no less anxious to leave the toxicity behind.
She did feel a sense of relief though, and not only because every step she took, was a step further away from him. In spite of her initial resistance to that inner nudge, apologizing for her part in the destruction of their marriage was the right thing to do. A burden she didn’t know she carried, lifted.
She reached the entryway and the front door, and stepped back out into the biting wind.
ROB was motionless, his throat tight, and his eyes locked on the doorway where she stood just a moment ago. He fought against the side of himself that demanded he go after her, humble himself, tell her he was sorry, and beg for another chance.
The hardwood floor creaked behind him, and he spun. His brother Erik stood there, looking back at him. He did not look pleased.
“What’s the matter with you?” Erik wondered incredulously. “You’re just letting her go?”
Rob looked irritable, and turned his attention to packing up. He picked up her rings, and shoved them into his pocket.
“She’s good at that.”
“Why, I wonder?” Erik snapped, his frustration matching Rob’s. “You didn’t exactly give her a reason to want to stay!”
“I was never unfaithful to her,” Rob glared.
“Change the subject then,” Erik retorted sharply. “I assume you’re talking about the night your wife left, and never came back. You say you were never unfaithful. What were you, then?”
Rob scowled as he latched his tool box with a snap.
“I was faithful, that’s what I was. Every minute since the day I met her.”
“If you were, you would’ve been at home, waiting for your wife to get off work. Not out with someone else. Especially not your ex-girlfriend, Meredith.”
Rob glared some more.
“You were there. It wasn’t like that, and you know it.”
“Yeah. I was there,” Erik replied steadily. “I know exactly what it was like.”
Rob turned away in frustration.
Erik felt like smacking his older brother upside the head, but having tried that and gotten nowhere, he shook his own head in disgust.
“You swore you’d never be like Dad,” Erik said, as he swiftly packed his gear. Gathering his things, he headed for the doorway, then paused and looked back at Rob. “What happened?”
With that parting shot, he left.
SAMANTHA used her hood to shield her face and eyes from the blinding ice particles, as she struggled to wade through the heavy snow to her car. How could so much fall in so short a time? Fresh concern filled her at the thought of trying to drive in these conditions. She pushed herself harder, aching from the cold that burned her lungs and froze her blood.
By the time she reached her vehicle, she shook so badly she could barely control her movements enough to search for her keys. It didn’t help that she was blinded by snow, and her fingers numb and unresponsive.
As she clumsily dug through her purse, frustration turned to fear. Were they even here?
No, she realized with a groan. They were on the entryway table, in model home A.
She turned and stumbled toward the front door, thankful she wasn’t parked further away. Several long yards later, she stood on the porch, fumbling for the house key. It took more will than she thought she had, to force her frozen fingers to cooperate, but with a sigh of relief the key turned in the lock, and she escaped inside.
ERIK threw on his coat and threw open the front door of model home B. The wind swept inside gleefully, bringing a cloud of snow with it. He narrowed his blue eyes and shielded his face with his arm, then forced his way through the heavy accumulation to his SUV.
By the time he had the door closed, the engine turned on, and the snow brushed out of his hair, he was out of breath. He didn’t bother waiting to catch it. Visibility was poor, and not likely to improve with time. He put the vehicle in gear, and backed out onto the snow-covered road. So far, so good.
He kept an eye out for any stranded motorists on the way down the mountain, and was relieved to see there were none.
Why his brother didn’t go after her, Erik would never know, but at least he knew she made it out safely. As long his brother didn’t waste time in bitterness over the misery he imposed on himself, so would he.
ROB sank to the floor, his back to the wall and his head in his hands.
He breathed in sharply as memories assaulted and feelings overwhelmed, threatening to undo him. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, and fought against the despair and helplessness that filled him. Guilt found its opportunity, and struck without mercy. The pain that followed, was more than he could bear.
He sought the only relief he knew. Anger was quick to oblige.
Rob stood, grabbed his toolbox roughly, and headed for the door.
SAMANTHA never felt so cold in her life. The thought of going back into the storm was almost as unbearable as the thought of being stuck here until the storm was passed, and the roads cleared enough to maneuver her car down the mountain.
Clutching the key to her car in her hand, she reminded herself that one day she would be warm again, and left the house behind.
By the time she managed to get the car door open, she was shaking so badly she felt she’d be torn apart. She fumbled and dropped the keys on the floor, then struggled to pick them up again. She did so with extreme difficulty, and it was with an overwhelming sense of relief that she got the key in the ignition.
Her faithful car started, and she hurried to turn off the heater, which was now capable of producing nothing but
frigid air. It would take several minutes for the engine to heat up enough to accomplish anything warmer than that. Judging by the wind and the amount of snow already fallen, she didn’t have time to wait, nor did she want to.
Samantha turned on the windshield wipers, then put the car in gear. She pressed the gas pedal, and it edged forward. Then it stopped.
She ordered herself not to panic, as she turned the wheel and tried again with the same result. She turned it the other way, and very slowly pressed the pedal.
Very slowly, the car moved in response. And then it stopped.
Samantha tried backing up, turning the wheel, going forward, turning the other direction, going back…
The tires spun in the snow that was now packed so tightly, it was solid ice.
Her stomach sank as she accepted the harsh reality that the snow was too much for it. Her car was stuck.
ROB glanced at the French door on his way past, and stopped in surprise. He knew the storm was bad, but… not this bad. He watched the snow as it gusted and swirled, gauging whether or not there was enough visibility left to get down the mountain.
Maybe, as long as nothing else was coming up. Maybe, as long as…
His forehead creased with sudden concern. Unless Samantha learned to drive in ice and snow in the past two years, she had no idea how. Even if she did, unless she traded in her little car for something with four-wheel drive, she’d never make it down the mountain.
Rob dropped his toolbox, snatched up his coat, and hurried outside.
Sight was all but useless now, except in the brief and random moments when the wind paused. He pulled on his gloves and pulled up his hood, as he turned his gaze and his footsteps in the direction of model home A. If she was still there…
Panic surged through him at the thought that she might not be, that she probably wasn’t. She’d have an accident, her car would stall, she’d freeze to death, and…
A surge of relief filled him at the sight of the small car in the circular driveway of the house next door. He heard the engine rev over the howl of the wind, and was fully reassured.
By the time he reached the car, he had his emotions well under control again. He knocked on the window, then opened the door.
Disengaged (Terms of Engagement Book 3) Page 2