“So have I, and I’m not looking forward to getting back to our usual routines, next week. How about I pick you up when you’re done, and we’ll spend the rest of the day together?” he suggested.
“Sounds perfect,” she smiled.
SAMANTHA heard the bedroom door open, and looked up. Rob’s expression was guarded, as he stepped into the kitchen. He gave her a cautious smile, then dropped his gaze and headed for the bathroom.
She started to speak, then stopped herself. If she stayed holed up in the bedroom all day long like he did, she’d be more interested in visiting the bathroom, than she would be in visiting.
Samantha let him pass by without interference, then waited impatiently for him to return. How he stood being alone for so long, she couldn’t imagine. Why he was content to do so, she couldn’t either.
She heard the shower turn on, and slumped in her seat. She felt like whimpering.
When she told him she needed time alone, she didn’t mean she wanted him to stay in seclusion! After the way he pursued her so earnestly ever since their arrival at the cabin, the difference was abrupt, and unpleasant. If she wasn’t afraid of leading him to believe she was ready to move forward, she’d do the reaching-out herself.
Considering how much she missed him all last night, and all day today, could she bear to go their separate ways, once rescue became possible? She didn’t think she could. The very thought left her feeling hollow. But could she truly forgive him, and never be haunted by the feeling that he wasn’t being honest with her? Would she always be fearful that something else would come up, when she least expected it? And when it did, her sense of security wouldn’t be the only one in jeopardy.
Samantha sighed, as loneliness filled her with longing. If her only concern was herself, she’d march right in there and tell him she couldn’t live without him, and the past didn’t matter. But was that the whole truth? Could she completely let the past go, or would she find herself bringing it up again in the future, if only in her own mind, and stewing over it?
Frustration filled her. She was frustrated with Rob for the obvious reasons, and likewise Meredith. She was also frustrated with her own inability to make a decision. The thought of being without Rob, was misery. The thought of being with him, held uncertainty, and a boatload of what-ifs. What if she couldn’t trust Rob? He believed she could, she didn’t doubt that. But he also believed he could withstand Meredith’s constant come-ons, and look what happened two years ago! What if they reconciled, and then Meredith reappeared, and Rob left her and Caleb?
Panic filled her at the thought. She could almost hear Aunt Ryland saying, Go on, Samantha. Finish your sentence. If Rob leaves you for Meredith, then…
It would mean he was as self-serving as he ever was. He would insist on joint-custody, if not full. And Caleb would be raised by Rob and Meredith.
Samantha leaped off the couch and paced the floor, as her heart raced. The thought was unbearable! She couldn’t take that chance, she couldn’t! But she couldn’t bear to live without Rob, either.
She collapsed on the couch again, as deflated now, as she was filled with nervous energy, a moment ago.
The bathroom door opened, and she sat up abruptly, as Rob reentered the room. The glance he cast her way was brief, and traveled no higher than her feet. He made a beeline for the bedroom once again, and Samantha felt desperate.
“Rob!” she said, sounding more anxious than she intended. He stopped in his tracks, and gave her a look of concern.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Well, I… are you okay?” was the best she could come up with.
Rob considered that, as he slowly gathered the water bottle and package of trail mix from the counter, where he left them several eternities ago. He shrugged slightly.
“I will be. Are… you okay?” he questioned.
“Yes, but—we should talk,” Samantha said in a rush.
Those were the words he’d been dreading, and a shadow darkened Rob’s eyes.
“Alright,” he said quietly. He also pushed open the bedroom door, and set the trail mix and water bottle on the dresser. If he found it necessary to leave abruptly, he was determined not to be left without food and water, this time.
Samantha watched as he joined her in the living area, and had a seat in the recliner. His eyes held resignation as he looked back at her, and waited.
She cleared her throat a little, as she searched for something to say.
“I’ve hardly seen you since yesterday,” she settled on.
Rob looked surprised, and a little confused.
“Yes. You said you need time alone. To think. I’m giving you that.”
“Oh. Right… I did say that,” Samantha acknowledged.
“What is it you wanted to say?” Rob asked. Or, maybe this was about torturing him. It was, whether she intended it to, or not.
“I just thought we should talk, that’s all. What have you been doing all day?”
“Reading, mostly. I’ve done some writing. I caught up on some of the sleep I missed last night. I checked the radar app a few times.”
He left out the parts about praying fervently, grieving intensely, and looking at photos of his son.
“Oh. I haven’t had much to do but sit and think,” Samantha replied.
Rob watched the flames flickering in the fireplace, as he waited for her to drop the guillotine.
“And have you made a decision?” he forced himself to ask.
“Well… no,” she answered. She saw the flash of pain that crossed his face, and hurried on. “I’m sorry, but it’s not that simple.”
“Yes. It is,” he replied steadily. “It’s in your hands. There’s nothing I can do to fix this. There’s no amount of begging or pleading I can do, no amount of reassuring, no amount of grief or repentance that I can express, and no way to prove to you beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m telling you the truth, and that any future surprises will be complete fabrications, much like the ones from yesterday, which you believe to be true. I can’t fix this. I can’t go back and change the past. I can’t be sorry enough, apologize enough, promise enough, love you enough, or be devoted enough to reassure you. Anything I do right, can be countered by the fear that I may do something wrong. So either you’re able to waive justice and extend mercy, grace, and forgiveness for what I’ve done, and have faith that I am not the sum total of my mistakes, or you aren’t.”
Samantha was taken aback, and hardly knew how to respond. A myriad of emotions washed over her, including guilt, which left her feeling defensive.
“Rob, I took a chance when I agreed to reconcile in the first place,” she reminded him. “And I did end up hurt again.”
“Not by anything I did after we reconciled,” he said quietly, his eyes still locked on the fire that snapped and crackled.
“But you weren’t completely forthcoming,” she argued. He closed his eyes tightly, and rubbed his forehead.
“I should’ve been. Should’ve. I can’t do anything to go back and change that,” he reminded her. “I am sorry. I always will be. But if you insist on me fixing this in order to forgive me, then I’ll die without your forgiveness.”
“Look, I want to have mercy, grace, and forgiveness. But I was very affected by what I learned yesterday,” she said defensively. “I can’t just get over that, my feelings are real.”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes filling with sympathy and regret. “I would fix it, if I could. And that’s the problem. My problem. I can’t.”
“I just don’t know if I’m willing to risk going through this again,” Samantha added.
“If you were, we’d be having a different conversation,” he replied, as resignation once again filled his eyes.
“What are you talking about?” she asked shortly.
“If you were, you’d let me comfort you, instead of reminding me of my failures,” he said without anger. She couldn’t get over how calm he was. She was the one getting upset! But why
wouldn’t she be upset, after everything she’d been through!
“I never said I wanted to end our relationship,” she said sharply, and for a moment there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“Are you willing to save it?” he asked.
“I need time,” she replied desperately. She saw his hope extinguish, and felt frustration. “Rob, I need more time! And—if there’s anything else you haven’t told me, then I need to know. If we reconcile, I have to know there won’t be any more surprises like this.”
“There won’t be. But unless you trust me, you won’t believe that, no matter how I try and reassure you.”
“Well—take some time, and be sure there isn’t anything in the past two years I should know about,” she persisted. Rob considered that, and nodded.
“Alright. I’ll do that. I’d like to ask you to do the same.”
“Me?” Samantha asked in surprise.
“Yes. Is there anything I should know about the two years we were apart? Did anything of significance happen, that might concern me?”
Samantha paled slightly, as she picked industriously at an imaginary speck of lint on the sleeve of her robe. Rob watched her soberly, and waited for a moment. If he pressed her, she might feel forced to lie, so he spared her.
“If you think of something, then please let me know,” he said gently, instead of berating her for keeping his son from him. In the midst of having his hopes and dreams destroyed, he felt a flash of joy at knowing the Holy Spirit inside him, was winning out over the sinful nature, which was about to have a conniption. If he had to guess, pride was weeping in a corner, and anger was being ground underneath his heel.
In spite of that satisfying mental image, Rob was tired, which might account for it. He was also weary of this conversation, which was going nowhere.
“My phone is almost dead, so I’m going to borrow the charger. If you need me, you know where to find me,” he said softly, and with that, he knocked the ball back into her court, took the phone charger, and left.
Samantha watched him go, as feelings of despair washed over her. She didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want him to hurt, and it was easy to see he did. But she didn’t want to be hurt any more, either. She especially didn’t want Caleb to be.
As troubled in spirit as she’d ever been, she tried to calm her racing thoughts so she could pray for guidance.
If only she had her Bible, she thought in frustration. There was a verse, it might be in the first chapter of James, about asking God for help when facing a difficult decision. She wanted to read it again, but when she went to work Monday morning, she left her Bible at home, since she wasn’t expecting to be away the next several days and nights.
Samantha remembered her phone, and the Bible app installed there, and turned it on. Or tried to, anyway. After flashing an empty battery symbol at her, it went dead.
She set it aside with a glance at the closed bedroom door, and sighed. Maybe after Rob’s phone had time to charge, she’d knock and ask to borrow the charger again. It would be an excuse to talk to him, and maybe things would go better this time. When she tried to initiate conversation, she didn’t intend to bring up the past, at all. It didn’t go like she wanted it to, and she felt unsettled. She missed being with him. She missed talking to him. She missed the happiness she’d grown accustomed to seeing in his eyes. The happiness that was now gone.
She felt a twinge of guilt, and imagined what it would feel like to be in his place. That didn’t ease her conscience any.
She spent the next several seconds imagining how much better their evening, and the rest of their life would be, if she knocked on the door and told him she believed him, and trusted him, and that she’d refuse to allow the past to poison the present and ruin the future, ever again.
As she moved to do just that, she thought of Caleb, and how his blue eyes filled with tears at the slightest hint of strife.
All her worries returned, and she sank back into her seat. Her thoughts were not all thought, and her fears were not resolved. Samantha sighed wearily.
The wind howled and lashed at the house, and ice pellets rattled against the windows. Samantha shuddered, and resented it for keeping her from her baby.
But… although it kept her from her son, it extended the opportunity in which to resolve her uncertainties regarding his father. She would wait, until she was absolutely certain it was safe to move forward again. There was no need to hasten a decision. She had time.
Comforted by that thought, Samantha stayed where she was.
Chapter 25
ROB sat in the bedroom, listening, as the wind slowly subsided. He checked the radar app again, and calculated.
Hiking, some uphill, and some down, through heavy, unbroken snow. Factor in the distance… then, take into account how much time it would require to load up several disc sleds, rope them together, and get back to the cabin.
Rob did the math again, jotting the figures on the notepad he held. His forehead furrowed in concentration for a moment, then he set the pages aside.
He could make it there and back. Probably. He had to try, regardless. If he made it to the lodge, then got stuck, he’d still be more likely to find the opportunity to make it back to the cabin before Samantha ran out of food, than he would if he waited for another opportunity of greater length than this. She would fare better, either way, without him there to deplete their supplies at more than twice the rate she would on her own.
On the nightstand, lay the letter Rob wasn’t through writing. He didn’t have time to finish it now, and wasn’t sure she’d read it, even if he did. He wouldn’t give it to her until they were rescued, anyway. On the off chance Samantha chose to forgive him, he wouldn’t give it to her at all. A very small part of him refused to give up hoping she would. The rest of him was certain she wouldn’t.
Rob folded the letter with a sigh. He placed it inside his Bible, then put both underneath his pillow.
The wind was fast abating, and another glance at the radar app indicated it was time to gather his things, and prepare to go. He switched off the light, then quietly opened the door.
The cabin’s main room was lit softly by the lamp on the end table. The hint of flame that washed across the glowing log that burned red-hot amid the smoldering coals, vanished, then reappeared, its flickering light playing across Samantha’s face as she slept. Rob watched her for a moment, his heart aching. If only she trusted him, instead of Meredith. If only he could convince her…
The face of his watch gleamed in the firelight, reminding him that he had no time for exercises in futility. With a heavy heart, he turned away.
Rob set the phone charger beside the lamp, then carefully placed the photo sleeve from Samantha’s purse, back inside.
She stirred, and he froze. If she woke, it would be worse than awkward. She’d want to know what he was doing up, what he was doing in her part of the cabin, and in her purse. She’d be upset if she believed he intended to travel to the lodge in the dead of night… or, maybe she’d be glad. The thought added more weight to his already heavily laden heart.
He quietly slid back the screen of the fireplace, and carefully added more logs. He’d be inclined to let the fire die out, if he didn’t expect both himself, and the storm, to beat the daylight back to the cabin. The smoke would guide others to Samantha’s location just as well as it would himself, and in spite of the dire need to replenish their pantry, he’d be uneasy leaving her alone if not for the cover of darkness. He wanted to believe his scathing response to the unwelcome visit by his so-called friends, was enough to ensure they wouldn’t be back. But the more he recalled the past, the less likely he was inclined to believe it.
In spite of how relentless Meredith could be, she’d meet with insurmountable obstacles—such as trees, rocks, and the occasional wild animal—if she tried snow-mobiling cross-country, in the dark of night. If she attempted to hike from Alpine Run by flashlight and the sliver of moon that played hide and seek behind t
he clouds, she wouldn’t have time to make it anywhere near Pine Mountain, much less the cabin, before the storm returned.
Rob wouldn’t be gone long, considering. Samantha would more than likely still be sleeping when he got back. If she paid no more attention to the contents of the cabinet than she did the quantity of firewood stacked all along the wall, she’d never know he left.
Rob closed the bedroom door. As much time as he spent holed-up there during the past couple of days, she would expect it to be shut and assume he was on the other side, giving her the space she wanted. But… on the off chance she woke before he returned, noticed his snow gear was missing, and that he was no longer in the cabin, he jotted a brief note, and left it on the table.
Cupping his hands, he peered through the kitchen window. The fragment of moon that hung from the sky, shed its pale light on the snow-covered earth. A brief gust of wind chased the fallen snow for a moment. Those flakes nearest by, when lifted into the air, would absorb the beam of his flashlight, rendering it useless in terms of surveying the frozen, unfamiliar terrain. But the wind was fast on its way out, and its gusts sporadic, and growing fewer and further between. Soon it would no longer be a concern. He prayed it would stay that way.
Rob spent the next minute or two hydrating, as he watched the wind fade to nothing. Much as he would appreciate the chance to replenish his energy as well, he wouldn’t diminish Samantha’s sole source of food any further. He would make up for what he was lacking, when he reached the lodge.
Rob finished donning his cold-weather attire. As he adjusted his scarf and pulled up his hood, Samantha stirred again.
“Caleb…” she mumbled.
Rob sighed heavily. He longed to be part of her dream. But she didn’t want that. She believed any dream with him in it, would become a nightmare. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to change that.
Disengaged (Terms of Engagement Book 3) Page 43