“So what’s your plan?” Rob wondered.
“Robert Sherman and Conner Stevens, are the only contractors on Mr. Henry’s list who bid on the development, and aren’t already busy working on projects of their own,” Erik said.
“I can’t see Conner doing this,” Rob frowned.
“I’ll be completely stunned if he’s responsible,” Erik agreed. “But, if he’s in, we’ll talk to him and see if he’s heard anything.”
“Sherman is a lot more likely suspect. He’s also a hothead. How do you intend to approach him?”
“Indirectly. It’s not like he’ll admit it, if he’s guilty.”
“Alright, well, be careful,” Rob cautioned. Samantha yawned, and he glanced at her. She looked tired. “I’ve got nothing else. Unless you do, I’m letting you go.”
“All I’ve got, is a question. Is the weather as bad as it looks on the radar app?”
“It’s pretty bad,” Rob replied.
“Do you have what you need?” Erik asked.
“For now.”
“Okay… it’ll have to let up sometime. Either I’ll find a way up there, or—call the sheriff office and tell them there’s two dead guys, and they’ll be sure to collect them, and you too, as soon as its humanly possible.”
“I’ll do that,” Rob said.
He ended his call with Erik, as Samantha yawned again.
“I can’t believe how tired I am,” she declared, setting aside her plate.
“You’ve still got recuperating to do,” he pointed out.
“I couldn’t sleep when I realized you were gone,” she admitted. “I was worried about you.”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t sleep, but glad you were worried,” he smiled wryly.
“Why?” she laughed in surprise.
“Because… it means maybe I haven’t destroyed your ability to love me again,” he said softly.
Her heart responded to the longing in his voice, but her head warned her to proceed with extreme caution.
“Rob… you didn’t,” Samantha replied. The look in his eyes almost undid her, and she hurried on. “But it’s not that simple. I don’t know if I can trust you. I have everything to lose, if I do, and then nothing’s changed. I don’t know if I’m willing to take that risk.”
“I know you’re scared, and I’m sorry, I know that’s my fault,” he said repentantly. “I wish there was something I could say to reassure you, but I know there isn’t. I’ve got to prove myself, and I will. I will, for as long as it takes for you to trust me again, and for the rest of my life, after that.”
“Okay,” she sighed, as a wave of exhaustion washed over her. “Then when I wake up, there are a lot of things we need to talk about.”
“Alright, we will,” he swiftly replied.
“We need to talk about the past two years. We need to talk about all the things that led to the destruction of our relationship.”
“Alright,” Rob agreed, as he rose from the couch so she could lie down.
Samantha pulled the blankets up to her chin, and closed her eyes. By the time he returned from carrying her plate to the kitchen and settled into the recliner with his own, she was asleep.
As he ate, hope and apprehension vied for dominance. It was good she wanted to talk… or would be, if she wanted to talk about the present, and a future with him. That, would be great. Talking about the past, however, had the potential to go very badly. What could it do, but convict him of his failures and transgressions?
Rob sighed quietly. He set aside his empty plate, and picked up his Bible.
If only she knew he wasn’t the same guy he used to be. He wasn’t fighting alone against that sinful nature, anymore. He didn’t even know what it was, before, but he did now, and he wasn’t on his own, helpless to stand against it and do what he wanted to do, instead of what he didn’t.
If only she knew. If only he could tell her, and have her believe him, instead of believing he was trying to manipulate her. If only they both knew, before their problems ever began. Everything would be so different, if they had.
If she would give him another chance, then he’d tell her. And… if she didn’t… he’d find a way to tell her, anyway.
Rob sighed again. He was feeling more depressed, by the second. He was tempted to toss a couple of logs on the fire—or at it—so she’d wake up, and get this talk over with.
He ran his hands through his hair, and thought about calling Erik. Then he frowned. Considering his brother was with Samantha’s sister, a lot of good that would do. But, he could pray. Maybe God would make Samantha want to give him another chance. He hated divorce, Rob read that somewhere. And they were stuck here, together, when there wasn’t supposed to be a storm at all, and He did answer Rob’s plea for help, and saved her life. He saved them both, and gave them this chance. God must want to save their marriage. It made sense, and Rob felt cheered by that thought.
He settled back in the recliner and began to read.
Outside, the wind howled and snow rattled against the icy windowpanes, but inside, the fire snapped and flickered cheerfully, bathing the area surrounding the fireplace with warmth and light.
Rob heard Samantha mumble softly, and glanced in her direction.
Her fingers twitched, and behind her closed lids, her eyes moved rapidly. She laughed quietly, and mumbled some more. It had been so long, he forgot she sometimes talked in her sleep. She smiled, and he wondered what she was dreaming. Whatever it was, it made her happy. He couldn’t understand what she was saying, but…
“I love you, Caleb,” she sighed.
Rob stared, his mind frozen, as her words washed over him in wave after frigid wave, chilling his blood. Icy fingers of fear crept around his chest and tightened around his throat. His heart beat sluggishly, and his breath was shallow.
Samantha lay still, her dream at an end. Rob sat motionless, his nightmare just begun. He swallowed hard and ran his shaking fingers through his hair, then gripped his head in his hands.
Fear, horror, loss, and agony, were swallowed by jealousy, pride, and anger.
How dare she! And then sit in judgment of him, when he never loved anyone but her! He made a dumb mistake, but she—she—Rob gripped his head tighter as his imagination built on her words, churning out torturous scenarios and images. His stomach clenched, as emotion of all kinds flooded him violently, waging war inside.
So this was the everything she had to lose, if she gave him another chance. This was why she was in such a hurry to get out of here. Not just so she could get away from him, but so she could get back to him.
Fury blinded Rob. This was what he got for opening his heart to her! For humbling himself, for groveling, for begging forgiveness, for taking all the blame! And she let him! She let him, and all this time, she was in love with someone else—
Pride demanded he wake her, and condemn her for the hypocrite she was. Anger boiled in him, fueling hatred, and contempt. He would show her, he would—
Rob grabbed his Bible, leaped out of the recliner, and for his sake and hers, escaped to the safety of the bedroom.
He grabbed a pillow, sank to his knees on the floor, and cried into it.
“God, help me! Please, help me,” he sobbed over and over.
Pride and anger struggled to sink their talons back into his mind, to scramble his thoughts and provoke, but their hold was weak, and growing weaker. They battered away frantically, but their poisonous rantings were muffled now, and anemic.
As the afternoon waned, the wind gradually ceased its wailing. The only sound was the whisper of falling snowflakes as they brushed past the window, and Rob’s fervent words of prayer. Helpless to steal, kill, and destroy, pride and anger left him for a more opportune time.
Chapter 15
ROB turned with a sigh, and leaned against the side of the bed. His knees were stiff from kneeling for so long on the cold floor, and he was exhausted in every way.
Sunlight or moonlight, he didn’t know which, filtered d
imly through the heavy snowflakes on the other side of the window. It dappled the floor beside him gently, leaving the rest of the room in shadow. He rested his head against the side of the mattress, and closed his eyes again.
He might be wrong about this, he tried to comfort himself. Samantha’s dream might not be based on reality, at all. Mostly, they weren’t. He used to remind her of that, every time she woke up mad at him over something she only dreamed he did.
So maybe it was just a dream. A horrible, awful dream that she had. Maybe there was no Caleb.
Rob sighed again, and rubbed his forehead wearily.
If there was, it was no more than he should expect after treating her the way he did. As bad as it hurt him to hear her say she loved some other guy… she saw that horrible picture of him with Meredith. She heard the horrible things he said to her, when she tried to confront him. She had no reason to believe he was sorry, or that it wasn’t what it looked like, or that he loved Samantha, that she was all he ever wanted, or ever would want…
He broke her heart. He ground the shattered fragments into the ground mercilessly, and when she left, he never went after her. He never said he was sorry, never tried to win her back, never stopped to consider how she felt, or how badly he wounded her…
Rob groaned, and rubbed his chest. If she turned to someone else, it was no more than he deserved.
But he was here now, and so was she. He was ready to be the husband he should’ve been, and—he didn’t care if there was a Caleb.
No, he did care. A lot. The thought made him want to punch a hole in the wall! But he cared more about Samantha. He wasn’t going to let his pride and anger drive her away again, or let her walk away a second time, without a fight.
He heard soft footsteps outside the door, and the light that seeped underneath grew dim. He hurriedly brushed away the last vestiges of tears, as the knob turned.
“Rob?” Samantha asked hesitantly, as she pushed the door open. The light that streamed through was brilliant, compared to the dark room in which he sat. Rob squinted, and shielded his face with his arm.
“What?” he replied.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Nothing, I just—woke up, and realized the wind had stopped. I was afraid you were gone.”
“No. I’m still here,” he said, glancing at the window. Despite the cessation of wind, the heavily falling snow rendered navigation by sight all but useless.
“Are you alright?” she asked in concern.
He brushed his hand across his eyes, and struggled to control the tremor in his voice.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” she replied in alarm. “What is it?”
“Nothing, it’s—I’m fine. I’ve—got a headache, I guess.”
“You guess?” she questioned. She wasn’t sure she believed that, but something was obviously wrong. He was sitting here alone in the dark, he wasn’t making eye contact, he sounded subdued, and he made no move to take her hands in his when she dropped to her knees, and pressed her palms to his cheeks and forehead. She detected no sign of fever, for which she was at least thankful. “Rob, what’s the matter? Please, talk to me.”
He swallowed hard, and kept his gaze locked on the trail of dim light cast by the window.
“Are you in love with someone else?”
Samantha stared at him in surprise.
“Rob—no!” she denied adamantly. “Absolutely not!”
He found as much comfort in her offended tone, as he did her words. He let out a deep breath, and visibly relaxed.
“Okay. Good,” he replied.
“I can’t believe you’d think so,” she frowned.
“You talk in your sleep,” he reminded her. She looked utterly perplexed, and shook her head as she tried to remember.
“I can’t imagine what I said that would give you that impression, but it isn’t true.”
“Good,” he said in relief. “The thought made me feel sick, and… it makes me sick that the only feelings I used to worry about, were mine. I never thought about how you felt when I went to that party without you, or when you got that picture… or how vicious I was to you after that, and then when you left and I didn’t come after you… I can’t imagine how badly I hurt you. If you did that to me, I think… I think I’d just die.”
She sighed quietly, then settled on the floor beside him.
“I just about did,” she admitted.
“Samantha, I am so, so sorry,” Rob said, brushing his sleeve across his eyes. “I can’t believe how selfish I’ve been. All I cared about was myself. And I’m not sure that’s even true. If it was, I would’ve done what made me happy, instead of what made me miserable.”
The anger she felt the night before seemed long ago, and far away. All she felt now, was compassion. She rubbed his shoulder gently, and smiled a little.
“I’m glad to know hurting me made you miserable.”
“It did,” he sniffed, wiping his eyes. “I’m so sorry for hurting you. I’m so sorry for not coming after you.”
Samantha bit her lip as she thought about that.
“What did you do instead?”
“I used pride and anger to drown out my misery. I used it to drown out the truth.”
“What else did you do, during the past two years?”
“I guess hearing me say I was miserable, isn’t what you’re looking for,” he said ruefully, and sighed. “When you left, I believed you’d come back. At least for your things. I thought when you did… that I could convince you to stay. Or make it so hard to leave, you’d decide it was easier not to. I changed the locks on the door, so you’d have to contact me to get in, even if you came when I wasn’t there. I quit going out. When I wasn’t working, I was at home, waiting. My brother was upset with me, and my grandparents were disappointed. I hated that, so I didn’t see them much, either.
“When you emailed, I was relieved. Then I read it, and all it said, was that you had your own insurance. That scared me, and then I got angry. I didn’t want to believe it meant you were moving on, so I decided you did it to hurt me, to try and make me think so. But deep down, I was afraid. And depressed.
“Erik graduated from college, and our grandfather decided to retire. He offered us Davison Construction. It was a dream come true, for both of us. He said passing it on to us, was for him, too. I think he also knew I needed something good to keep me busy. So… Erik and I have been partners, ever since.
“A year after you left, I got your second email. I knew then, that you weren’t coming back, and… I gave up. I started hanging out with the wrong people. I started drinking again.
“Our grandfather told us about the Pine Mountain project. Mr. Henry contacted him, thinking the business was still in his hands. Grampa encouraged us to come up with a proposal, and we did. Mr. Henry offered us the contract, and for the past several months, we’ve been here. And… that’s about it,” Rob finished. He didn’t want to elaborate on the identity of the wrong people he hung out with, and hoped she’d forget to ask. “How about you? What did you do, after you left?”
Samantha shrugged a little.
“I was in shock, and didn’t know what to do, or where to go. All I knew after what you said, was that I could never go back. I parked in an empty lot, and sat there and cried for a long time. I was so depressed. I felt worthless. As if it was my fault, because I wasn’t enough,” she said quietly.
“You’re not worthless, it was all my fault, and you are enough,” Rob interjected adamantly. “It’s my fault that I was drinking that night. It’s my fault that I was arrogant, and prideful. I knew she was coming onto me, and instead of blasting her for it, I was proud that she had no effect. It’s my fault I kept drinking, and that I wasn’t thinking straight when she and the rest of our old friends started talking about the past. It’s my fault I got carried away by it. But it’s your fault that I left. It’s your fault that I told her no, that I love my wife, and that you’re the only one I want to b
e with. It’s your fault that I went home. It’s your fault that I was desperate to see you, and to make sure everything was alright… and instead, I made everything wrong. And that, was all my fault.”
Samantha stifled a sob, as she sniffed back tears.
“I figured you were with her, this whole time.”
“I wasn’t,” Rob hurried to say.
“I thought that’s why you never contacted me,” she sobbed.
“I didn’t contact you, because I was an idiot, like I told you earlier. I thought my only chance of getting you back, was if you came back on your own.”
“That is so ridiculous,” she half-laughed, half-sobbed.
“I know that now. I’m not the same guy I used to be. I’m not confused, or proud, or angry. I’m not selfish anymore, either. I really want to hug you. But I’m not, because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Samantha dried her tears with her sleeve, as she considered that.
“I might be more comfortable, if you did,” she admitted.
Rob glanced at her, a question in his eyes, as she looked back at him. She could see his face in the light that streamed through the open bedroom door, but hers was in shadow.
“Do you mean that?” he asked.
“Yes,” she nodded, shivering a little. He put his arm around her, and she pressed against him, gripping the front of his pullover. “It’s really cold in here!”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” he laughed a little, as he wrapped both arms around her.
“It isn’t,” she agreed, nestling against him.
Her response flooded Rob with joy and relief, and he held her closer. She was absorbing the comfort he offered, and he hardly dared breath, for fear of doing the wrong thing and ruining it, but hope burned brighter with each moment that passed.
“We’d be even more comfortable on the couch,” she finally suggested, as she loosened her grip on him a little, and sat back. “And—I still love you, Rob. I think maybe I can trust you. But there are so many things we have to come to an agreement on, or we’ll both be as miserable together, as we have been apart.”
Disengaged (Terms of Engagement Book 3) Page 26