Through His Touch (Mind's Eye Book 2)

by Deborah Camp

  “We have.” Darla’s gaze moved to Guy Reynolds and her smile softened. “February fourteenth”

  “Awww. My parents were married on Valentine’s Day, too!” Trudy turned to grin at Reynolds. “You old softie, you. Who would have thought that you were a romantic?”

  Reynolds chuckled. “She just wants to be sure I never forget our anniversary.”

  “Ah, good thinking,” Trudy said, winking at Darla. “Smart woman.”

  “Even though Levi can’t come to the wedding, would it be okay if I sent you an invitation? I’d love it if you could attend.”

  “Please, do. I wouldn’t miss it!” Trudy frowned. “Why can’t Levi make it?” She couldn’t imagine him doing anything special on Valentine’s Day.

  “Some kind of family obligation,” Darla said with a shrug. “I’m disappointed, of course. Guy and I both wanted him to be there.”

  A family obligation. Trudy rolled this around in her mind and knew it for what it was – a big, fat lie. Levi didn’t have “family obligations.” So, what was the real reason for him not wanting to attend Darla’s wedding? She would have asked more about Darla’s wedding plans, but she heard the door to Levi’s office open and a balding man, dressed in blue works pants and a light blue work shirt, strode out. His face was red and set in a frown, but he managed to force a smile as he nodded toward them.

  “Leaving us, Hal?” Darla asked.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Hal glanced over his shoulder, back at Levi’s office and scowled. “Got it all straightened out.”

  “That’s good.” Darla sent him a kind smile.

  “Good for him. Not so good for me.” Hal shrugged. “See you, Darla.”

  Darla waved at him as he went toward the elevators. She sighed and shook her head. “Sounds like he was bitten by a wolf, doesn’t it?”

  Trudy shared a laugh with her. “Is Levi a tough boss to work for?”

  “Not really. As long as you give him your all and don’t get in his way, he’s understanding and fair.”

  Levi’s voice crackled from the intercom on Darla’s phone. “We’re done for the day. Go home, Darla. And, for God’s sake, take Reynolds with you.”

  Darla laughed, glancing at her fiancé. “Trudy’s here.”

  “Here?”

  Trudy stood up just as Levi came into view, striding along the hallway that led to his secluded office. All business in an impeccably tailored Armani suit, charcoal shirt, and silver and gold striped tie, he looked dangerously dashing to her eyes. She rested her hands on the sleeves of his black jacket and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

  “This is a nice surprise. Anything wrong?”

  “Does there have to be a problem for me to drop in on you here?” She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, turning him back toward his office. “I’m going stir-crazy and I wanted a change of scenery.” She glanced over her shoulder at Darla. “Be sure to send me an invitation!”

  “You’re on the list,” Darla assured her. “Good night, Mr. Wolfe.”

  Levi threw a good-natured scowl at her. “See you tomorrow, Ms. Hawkins. Before you go, send an e-mail to Jason and Sid and let them know that Hal is adjusting his cost runs.”

  “Will do,” Darla said, already swiveling around to her computer.

  Trudy stepped into Levi’s spacious office and sat on the long, leather sofa. She patted the cushion beside her. He tipped his head, regarded her for a few moments, and then sat down.

  “What are you getting an invitation to from Darla?”

  “Her wedding.” She noted the stiffening of his body beside her. “You don’t approve of her getting married?”

  His brows shot up. “I’m happy for her. She and Reynolds seem to be . . . well, you know.”

  “In love?”

  “Yes.” He busied himself unbuttoning his suit coat.

  “Why aren’t you going to their wedding then?”

  He bobbed one shoulder. “I have a previous commitment.”

  “On Valentine’s Day?”

  He attempted a smile that didn’t show up anywhere except for his lips. “I’ll be with my sweetheart.”

  “At Darla’s wedding,” she said. “Because that’s where your sweetheart will be.” She knew she was pushing him somewhere he didn’t want to go, but she wasn’t in a generous or gentle mood. Not after an hour of talking to her parents on the phone about Thanksgiving and not being able to tell them with certainty to expect her and Levi for the holiday feast.

  He gave a quick shake of his head. “No. I can’t go.”

  “Family obligations?”

  A wince whipped across his face. “Yeah, well, no.”

  “Then why? Why lie to her?” She watched, mesmerized, as a myriad of emotions flitted across his face – so many that it was hard to keep up with them. Shame, embarrassment, aggravation, and anger.

  “It’s one of my fucking phobias, okay?” he said with a burst of frustration. He swatted a hand at her as if she were a dog he was ordering away from a juicy bone. “Leave it.”

  A mixture of apprehension and anger gripped her. Oh, she hated when he did this – threw “No Trespassing” signs at her! She gathered in a deep breath and pulled from her draining pool of patience. “You have a phobia concerning weddings?”

  “No.” He ran a hand through his hair and the thick waves shimmered blue-black, catching beams of the overhead lighting. He glanced at her and then at the ceiling. “Oh, Jesus. You’re doing that haughty chin thing which means you’re brewing for a fight. You’re not letting this go.”

  “I’m not the one yelling and being obstinate.” She was proud of her measured tone of voice.

  He glared at her in a tense stand-off. He blinked first and shot to his feet again. “Okay! Church. She’s getting married in a chapel. A church.” His upper lip actually lifted in a snarl. “Goddamn it, I don’t want to talk about this, Trudy! It’s stupid. It’s childish. But it’s there. I can’t get past it. Not yet, anyway.”

  She stared at him as she grappled with what he’d told her. Church. A church phobia. “You’re saying that you can’t enter a church? Like Dracula?”

  He released a harsh laugh. “More like Satan.” He sent her a sidelong glance, but looked away quickly. “It’s called ecclesiophobia. I can enter a church, but I can’t stay in one for long. I used to not be able to be inside one for more than a couple of minutes before I . . .” He closed his eyes and firmed his jaw. “Anyway, with Dr. McLain’s help, I can tolerate it for about ten minutes now without having to bolt. But a wedding ceremony? No way can I last through that.”

  Since his father was a minister, she wondered how he’d coped. “How long have you felt like this? Had this phobia?”

  “I’m not sure . . . it came on gradually. It was at my mother’s funeral that it really hit me hard. My father was delivering the eulogy and I broke out in a cold sweat, my heart started to try to climb out of me, and I knew if I didn’t get out of that place immediately I’d go stark raving mad.” He paced to the windows, staring out at the long slant of afternoon shadows and the spires of Atlanta skyscrapers. “It’s stupid. Intellectually, I know it’s ridiculous.”

  “This isn’t about your intellect,” Trudy said. “It’s about emotions. What happened to make you feel so uncomfortable? Your father’s sermons?”

  “No.” He ran a hand down his face and offered up a weak smile.

  The sag of his shoulders twisted her heart and she stood and slipped her hand in his. He squeezed it.

  “I’ve had some bad experiences in them,” he said, barely above a whisper. “It all comes charging back on me when I’m in one.”

  She angled closer, peering up into his face, searching for a chink in the armor. “In those schools you were sent to?”

  He nodded.

  She rested her cheek against his shoulder and rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, Levi. I’m so sorry you were hurt and that your childhood was horrific. How could anyone defame a church by hurting a c
hild there?”

  He gave her a look of disbelief. “You can quote the Bible and justify nearly every behavior if you try hard enough. Case in point: Proverbs 13:2, ‘He that spareth his rod hateth his son. But he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes.’”

  “Spare the rod, spoil the child,” Trudy translated.

  “Right. Oh, and Proverbs 22:15, ‘Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child, but the rod of discipline will drive it far from him.’ I could go on and on.” He shrugged.

  She shook her head, amazed. “You have a phobia about churches and yet you can quote the Bible, chapter and verse.”

  “Yeah. It’s one of the many fucked up things about me. But, God knows, I have good reason to be wary of churches.” He sighed. “At one of the schools, when you were bad – when I was bad, they made me lie down naked in front of the altar, on my belly, and stay there for hours and pray for my soul. The floor was freezing cold and I couldn’t get up and go to the bathroom, so I’d wet myself.” He shut his eyes, and so did Trudy. “Then there were the baptisms.” A mirthless laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’ve been baptized so many times I’ve lost count.”

  She angled a glance at his darkly wry expression. “I thought that one time was supposed to do the trick.”

  A corner of his mouth twitched. “That’s right, but at every new school, they baptized me again and again.”

  “Why?”

  “To chase the devil out of me, I suppose.” He shrugged. “When I was thirteen, I was baptized in a river and drowned.”

  He said it so nonchalantly that it took several seconds for it to sink into her brain. When it did, Trudy reared back, stumbling away from him in utter shock. “Drowned? How did that happen?”

  He stared at her, his face now carefully void of any distress. Just blank. His eyes, dark and impenetrable. “A big, burly preacher, determined to be the one to finally wash Satan from my soul and win my father’s favor, got carried away and kept me under so long that I drowned.”

  Trudy realized her mouth was hanging open in shock and she placed her hand over it, feeling her lips tremble. She didn’t believe that his cool countenance had anything to do with what must be going on inside of him. You didn’t die at someone’s hands and not feel something about that. Oh, but he was good! He’d practiced for so many years that he could stand before her completely unruffled, only a single muscle ticking away in his jaw and the shadows in his eyes to give him away.

  “I knew I was dying. I struggled and kicked and tried to pry the man’s hands off me, but he grabbed my throat and pushed down on my stomach and he wouldn’t budge. I had to take a breath, even though I knew when I did, I would die. I remember the pressure, the intense panic . . . like I feel when I’m in church now . . . it’s overwhelming, terrifying. And then everything went black. The next thing I knew I was coughing and sputtering and my chest and throat were burning. I was on the riverbank and everyone was standing around looking as if they’d royally fucked up – which they had. Killing the Reverend Comfort’s wayward son wasn’t the outcome they’d been hoping for.” He actually managed a smirk.

  Trudy wanted to slap him. She barely refrained herself. “Stop it.”

  His gaze narrowed. “What? You asked. If you don’t want to hear about my—.”

  “Stop acting was if these memories mean nothing to you. Obviously, they do or you wouldn’t be haunted by them. And, please, don’t smile or laugh about what happened to you.” She tilted up her chin and he ducked his head and stared at his shoes to hide the smirk still on his lips. Anger pumped through her veins. “What you just described to me is barbaric! That man, at the very least, should have been arrested for child endangerment.” She stomped a foot in frustration because he still had a bemused smile on his face. “I know you despise your father, but I’ve never understood how you actually feel about your mother. But I will tell you this, if she’d been any kind of mother, she would have charged that asshole with attempted murder.”

  Levi lifted his bruised gaze to hers again and his smirk melted under the heat of her anger.

  “No matter if I loved my husband, was scared of him, or felt that I was supposed to obey him or chance going to hell, I would never allow him to come between me and my child. Never! Hell be damned! If he told me he was sending my baby boy off to some hick school thousands of miles away, he’d be breathing my dust in the next second because my son and I would be gone.”

  She paused to gather in a breath and he caught her chin between his fingers and thumb. He gaze moved slowly over her face and then locked with hers.

  “I believe you,” he whispered.

  “Damn straight,” she assured him.

  “Christ, you’re something. You know that?”

  She shook her head in a gentle admonishment. “No. Nearly every woman I know would do the very same thing.”

  He curved his hand alongside her face. “My feelings for my mother are conflicted. I resent her for deserting me, but I also have memories of her singing hymns to me until I fell asleep. She would kiss my forehead.” A smile flickered in his eyes and across his lips, “When I’d come home from school, she’d have milk and cookies waiting for me.”

  “Milk and cookies?” Trudy’s chest and throat tightened.

  He nodded. “She taught me how to dunk.”

  “Oh, Levi!” That did it. Her heart cracked open for him and she flung her arms around his neck.

  “Shhh.” He kissed her cheek and then gripped her wrists, forcing her arms from around him. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled as he turned away from her. “Now you know why I’m not going to Darla’s wedding,” he said as if nothing emotional had just transpired between them.

  She nodded, realizing that he was hastily erected the walls around his heart. He looked over his shoulder at her, his brows lowered.

  “What I’ve just told you, no one knows except for Dr. McLain. It’s personal. You can’t discuss it without anyone. Ever. You understand?”

  Stung by his lack of faith in her, she stepped closer to him, gripping his sleeve. “Don’t you think that you can trust me?” A shuddering laugh spilled from her and she gave his sleeve a yank. “Levi, for God’s sake! Of course, I wouldn’t talk to anyone about this! That you think you even have to warn me like that . . .” She let go of him, quailed by his taciturn expression. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised or hurt, but I am.”

  He shut his eyes and tipped back his head. “Sorry. I’m sorry, okay? I do trust you, but I’ve learned the hard way not to assume anything of anyone. I just need to hear you say it. Promise it.”

  “I promise,” she said, still stinging.

  “Thank you.” He opened his eyes and he seemed a little regretful and greatly relieved as his breath escaped in a choppy sigh. “Ready to go home?”

  Home. Melancholy wafted through her and she looked away from him. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did something else happen?”

  “No. I’m homesick.”

  “You mean for Tulsa.”

  “Yes.” She saw his slight wince. Oh, no. He wasn’t . . . he wouldn’t . . . She pounced, rounding on him. “Levi Wolfe, don’t you dare tell me we’re not going to Tulsa for Thanksgiving!”

  Chapter 10

  He went to his desk to shift papers and switch off his computer. “Thanksgiving is Thursday, I’m told.”

  “That’s right. It’s on all the calendars if you’d care to look. So, you haven’t made travel arrangements for us?” She folded her arms, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was hedging.

  “I know you want to join your family then.”

  She sharpened her gaze on him, reading the tense lines bracketing his mouth, the slight narrowing of his eyes. “We’ll be here for your party on Tuesday night, of course. We should try to get seats on a Wednesday or Thursday morning flight, but if we can’t, I thought I’d hit you up for a private plane ride.”

  “Of course. You know that would be my pleasure.” His smile w
as indulgent. Sad, even. “But I don’t think I can go with you. You know about the conference I’m headlining.”

  “That’s this weekend. In Seattle. You’ll be back before Thanksgiving.”

  “Yes, but I have business commitments Monday and Tuesday. Then there’s the party. Wednesday I have a walk-through on a construction site that I can’t put off because the contractor expects to be paid that day and I’m not writing a check without examining his crew’s work.”

  “One of your VPs or a foreman can’t do that?”

  “Not on this project. No.” He frowned, avoiding her level gaze.

  Anger and resentment swamped her. “I’ve always been at my parents’ table for Thanksgiving. We’re going. We can leave Wednesday evening.”

  “I’m scheduled to be on the Daily Atlanta TV show on Friday. Call time is 6:30 a.m.” He let go of an exaggerated sigh. “Sorry, baby.”

  Something inside of her crumbled because she realized that he’d known about this for weeks. He’d never intended on going to Tulsa for Thanksgiving. But why? She stared at him and wondered if she might be reading something into his expression that wasn’t there. But for the life of her, she could swear he looked nervous.

  “You don’t want to meet my family,” she accused. “You’re afraid to meet them.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! The timing is bad, that’s all.” He cleared his throat and placed some papers in the top drawer of his desk.

  “Why have you waited until now to tell me about your business commitments? Why string me along?”

  “It wasn’t like that. The contractor walk-through came up yesterday and I forgot about the TV thing until this morning.” He smiled at her – a quick, insincere smile. “I’ll meet your family at Christmas.”

  Oh. She had him now. He might think he’d pulled a fast one, but she was a step ahead of him. In her heart of hearts, she’d known he had no intention of being in Tulsa with her on Thanksgiving. But, damn it all, he wouldn’t have the last word on this! Striding over to him, she stuck out her hand. “Shake on it.”

  He blinked at her. “Uhhh. What are we shaking on?”