“Look,” he said. “I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but I’m pretty sure I’m reading the signals right. Something is bugging you. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” she said flatly.
“Okay—” he started to say, but she cut him off, jumping out of the truck and slamming the door.
What was wrong with her? Nate couldn’t leave her like this. He followed her up the flagstone walk. She’d stopped beside the planters of not yet blooming tulips. “Pollyanna, obviously something is bothering you. Talk to me. You’ve talked to me before.”
Her back was to him, her shoulders slumped as she reached out and gently touched the tips of the spikes. “I hate being here.”
That shocked him. “You hate Mule Hollow?”
Her head slashed around and she cut her eyes at him. “No. I hate being a widow.” She swung away, her body rigid. “I detest everything being a widow does to me. I loathe walking into a singles class. I hate having to look to the future without Marc and I despise having cute cowboys flirt with me.” She held up a hand to silence him when he started to speak. “And believe me, I know how silly that sounds. But it’s the truth.”
Well, I’ll be. Nate pushed his Stetson back and rubbed his temple. “Actually, it doesn’t sound silly at all.”
That brought her around to face him. She lifted her chin, giving him her full attention.
He shifted from one boot to the other and tucked his hand into his back pocket. “I didn’t have cows to look at this morning. I hate going to Sunday-school class, too. It’s hard enough to walk into the main sanctuary. But to walk into a more intimate setting like the couples class—which they’ve invited me to continue to be a member of, still that didn’t help—I just can’t do it. Not without Kayla at my side. The only thing worse would be to go to a singles class. I can’t bring myself to look at myself as single. And like you, it’s also not that I can’t do it, but that I don’t want to.” His voice was almost a whisper as he finished. Even saying he was single felt wrong. Polly was watching him so intently and he lifted a shoulder. “I wanted to be Kayla’s husband until I was old, fat and had a bald spot. I was supposed be a father by now. I wasn’t supposed to have female veterinarians chasing me or matchmakers scheming to find me a soul mate. I already have one. So you see, Pollyanna, I don’t think anything you’ve said is silly.” That was the longest, most honest conversation he’d had since Kayla died.
He and Pollyanna stared at each other for a long moment, both lost in the past as the feeling of discontent pulsed between them.
Literally deflating before his eyes, Pollyanna sank to the step, her hand resting on the edge of the planter, her eyes pained.
“I’m so ashamed,” she whispered, then, lifting her chin, she looked up at him with such sorrow.
Nate sat down on the step beside her, and fought the desire to put his arm across her shoulders and comfort her.
She inhaled a shaky breath. “I believe God’s word is the truth. I believe Marc is in Heaven. I know that. I was there when he gave his life to the Lord, and I know…I know because of our profession of faith that I am going to see him again. And—” she splayed her hands on her lap and studied them “—and for that I am eternally grateful and happy.” Her eyes flashed. “And I am. And most days I move forward…but sometimes I miss him soooo much. And it overshadows my joy that he is in Heaven.” She paused, her breath ragged.
Nate could only nod as his throat clogged with emotion. He understood completely.
“I know that he would no more return to this world or shed a tear to return,” she continued, giving a half smile. “Just think of the beauty he’s seeing, of the wonders that are unfolding before him…But I’m tired of being alone and yet I don’t want anyone else. I feel guilty if even the thought pops into my head. And I feel guilty for missing him so much.” She couldn’t believe she was telling him this. But she couldn’t seem to stop. “I can’t even imagine dating anyone other than Marc, and I resent, yes, God forgive me, I resent being here and having to think about it.” She plopped her hands to her thighs and forced a smile. “But hey, as wishy-washy as my feelings are these days, tomorrow I’ll wake up thinking that I’ve turned a corner and I’m going to be able to get on with my life. That I’m actually going to take two steps and not lose one the same day.” She clutched her hands together and didn’t look at all convincing.
He twisted around so that he crouched in front of her. It was a natural thing to cover her clutched hands with his, feeling the need to comfort this woman who seemed to be looking into his very soul and reading his every emotion, his every thought.
“I feel so much of what you’ve said. I think what we feel is normal and I’ve long ago stopped feeling guilty for the way I feel. We loved them and we miss them. They were part of us and death hasn’t changed that for us. Despite what the outside world sees. Time is irrelevant when it comes to grief. And love.”
She squeezed his hand, the green of her eyes melting with agreement. “Thank you.” Her voice cracked but she smiled a sad smile. “I have felt so guilty thinking about what the Lord thinks of me, too.”
“Why?” he asked, realizing that he still held her hands, but it had been so long since he’d held a woman’s hand, he found comfort in the touch.
She sighed. “Because of what God did for me. Waking me up before it was too late.”
“How so?” he asked when she went silent. She met his gaze, and seemed to pierce his heart. Of its own accord his gaze drifted to her lips momentarily.
“You see, I used to be a workaholic. I worked eleven-and twelve-hour days at the restaurant that I owned.”
“You owned a restaurant?” He could believe it.
She laughed. “Yes, a little hole-in-the-wall, but I did a fantastic business. That’s what I was doing when I met Marc. I hadn’t been opened long and he walked in one night with his girlfriend. I didn’t know she was the girlfriend of the week until later, but the moment he smiled at me, I fell in love. Instantly. I was such a young romantic. The next night he came in without his girlfriend and every night thereafter.” She faltered. “I didn’t mean to get carried away with memories—though that is one of the things God did for me, setting me up with Marc that way. But where I was going with this is that I had worked so hard to build my business that even after we were married and we had Gil, I continued to work long hours. I barely made it home in time to tuck Gil in at night, and half the time I was so worn out on my day off that I was missing everything and didn’t know it. I had such a treasure and I was letting it slip by me.” She took a shuddering breath. “And then one Sunday afternoon, I was sitting in a chair, so tired I could barely think, and I was watching Gil and Marc wrestle on the grass. I felt God tell me to wake up and concentrate on my family. Gil was four at the time, but I saw him grow up in a flash with me at work or too tired to enjoy our time together as a family. It shook me up and I felt this overwhelming urgency about it.”
She was staring at him so earnestly that Nate almost leaned toward her. Wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her. The thought caused his insides to go still. “So what did you do?” he asked.
“I wish I could say that I immediately changed my life. That I stayed home with my family, but you know how it is, I thought it wasn’t really a word from God. I mean, how could I be sure…? Instead I ignored Him. But thankfully I had such turmoil inside me about it, God literally wouldn’t let me forget that He’d given me a wake-up call. After three weeks, I finally mentioned it to Marc. He was so happy, he was always telling me that he missed me, that he didn’t see enough of me. But he would never tell me to choose, he was just that way. I only saw what it meant to him when I told him that I wanted to refocus my schedule so that I could be home more. I will never forget his elation. That was all I needed. I got my priorities straight and put my family first. I sold out completely at the end of the year, really convinced that I wanted to be home for Gil and for Marc. It might not have been the right mov
e for some, but for me it was. We had a great two years. If God hadn’t given me the gift of that thump on the head, I wouldn’t have had those last two years of treasured memories to cherish and sustain me.” Her eyes glistened with tears.
Without thought Nate reached and wiped the tear off her cheek with his thumb. “I’m glad He did that for you.”
She sniffled and nodded. “Me, too. I’m so thankful that I listened or I would have had so many regrets to live with. But God knew.” Her voice thickened. “He was so good to me and that’s why I feel so guilty. I mean, that verse, The Lord has done great things for us—not only did he send His son to die on the cross for me, He gave me Marc, if only for a short time. He gave me Gil. And then He woke me up in time to…” She closed her eyes, her hand tightening around his, and her voice trailed away.
“So you feel guilty because God gave you the gift of realizing you had a wonderful life and you feel guilty because you wanted it to last longer?”
“Exactly.” She sighed. “It sounds so selfish.”
She glanced down at their clasped hands at the same time he felt self-conscious that he’d been holding her hands for so long. He let go and stood, suddenly needing to put some space between them. Overwhelmed by the emotion that swept over him.
“I don’t see that there’s anything to be guilty about. God gave you a beautiful life and there’s no harm in loving it so much that you wish you still had it. I wish I still had mine.” He turned to look at her. “Unapologetically.”
She reached for the flower again, fingering one slender stalk. “I can’t help thinking there is something wrong about feeling this way.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because if I can’t move forward, there’s no glory in that for the Lord. And if there’s no glory in it for Him, then I’m just spinning my wheels. I have to find a way to be satisfied with my life as it is. I have to find courage to move forward all the way. And I will. It’s just…I keep getting waylaid all the time. One minute I’m thinking I’m okay, the next I’m like this.” She raked her hand through her hair and frowned. “Quite frankly, I’m tired of feeling this way.”
Chapter Thirteen
“I know what you mean,” Nate said. He wasn’t sure he agreed with Pollyanna on all points, but there were similarities. “I feel like my life peaked with Kayla and that everything is downhill from here. I can’t shake the feeling. I’ve been praying for the Lord to send me something else to wake up for, because as it is, I feel like I’ve got one foot in the grave right there beside Kayla.”
Polly placed her hand on his arm and squeezed. “I’m so sorry.”
He raked a hand through his hair, completely thrown by the way he was able to open up to Pollyanna. But she understood. “The truth is I’m not even halfway existing and I’m tired, too…but I can’t fathom feeling better without Kayla.”
He told himself that he was telling Pollyanna what was in his heart because she’d been through it and knew what it was like to love and lose. Essentially they were both caught in the same kind of limbo. He’d not been able to tell his closest friends, not even his brother, the things he’d just told Pollyanna. The only other person he’d ever been able to be this open with was Kayla.
But the truth hit him that since Pollyanna and Gil had come into his life he’d been waking up each day feeling more like his old self. And he liked the feeling.
“Nate, would—” Pollyanna started, then stopped, looking uncertain. She took a deep breath. “Would you like to go on that bike ride with me?”
Despite her body language, the question still took him by surprise. During their conversation he’d forgotten all about bikes. “A bike ride, huh?”
“I have an extra bike. It belonged to Marc. It’s a great bike.” She smiled and Nate felt as if the sun had just come out from behind a cloud. “Really, come on, it would be good for both of us. I just want to ride and not think about any of this for a few hours. I’m ready to have some fun.”
He hadn’t ridden a bike since he was in school…early years. But the idea appealed to him. “Sure, why not?”
“Great!” She clapped her hands together and beamed. “Do you own a pair of shorts and sneakers?”
“Oh, cowboys can’t own shorts and sneakers?” he drawled, quirking a brow in challenge as he crossed his arms. He already felt the heaviness lifting from him.
Polly matched his eyebrow with one of her own. “I don’t know, can they?”
Nate laughed, and felt as if he’d just taken his first breath in a very long time. Maybe there was something to these endorphins after all.
Twenty minutes later Polly had her answer. Yes, cowboys could wear shorts and sneakers, but, everyone else had better be wearing sunshades. Nate’s shorts were stylish enough, relaxed brown cargos, far from the formfitting jeans he usually wore, and his running shoes were great…but the well-muscled knee and calf that connected the two—oh my, oh my, that portion of leg was blinding it was so white!
“You don’t wear those often, do you?” she said in observation, so happy to be feeling better. And honestly looking forward to a ride with Nate. He gave her a boyish grin, tugged on a ball cap and winked. Winked!
“Well—ah, little lady, as a matter of fact,” he drawled, giving a dead-on John Wayne impersonation, “when a man’s got a herd to see to, thar ain’t much time for such frivolities as sunning his legs.”
Polly laughed, feeling the stress of the morning easing. And she was delighted to see him this way. “You do a great John Wayne.”
He cocked his head to the side, jutted a hip out and put his weight on his back leg, reminiscent of the actor, which would have really been perfect if he’d had on his western attire. “That wasn’t John Wayne.”
Polly’s mouth dropped open. “You’re not serious? It sounded just like him.”
He shook his head.
“Then who was it? Oh, oh, it was Foghorn Leghorn the big rooster from the cartoons. I always said he sounded like John Wayne.”
He rolled his eyes. “Nope.”
“But it had to be, it was perfect.”
“It was my dad.”
“Your dad sounds like John Wayne?”
“Yeah,” he said, looking at her seriously.
“If you say so,” she said slowly, suddenly realizing just exactly how handsome Nate Talbert was, standing there totally out of character…looking completely relaxed. As she held his gaze his grin broadened.
“Honestly, it was me impersonating my dad—impersonating John Wayne.”
“Ha!” she laughed, and stepped toward him, giving his arm a playful shove. “You think you’re so clever.”
“Hey, you went for it hook, line and sinker.”
“Funny, funny, funny man. We’ll see who has the last laugh after you pull those bikes out of the back of your truck and put those Mr. Clean legs to work.”
She spun and sashayed off his porch toward his truck. This felt great! They’d loaded the bikes into his truck, then driven to his house so he could change clothes. It was as if without saying so out loud they’d both agreed to let the past rest for now. Polly had exposed more of herself than she was comfortable with and she felt sure that Nate felt the same way. Yet it had been a relief to tell someone what she’d bottled up inside for so long.
Nate jogged past her, flipped around and jogged backward, smiling at her as he went. “You don’t think a cowboy can ride a bike, do ya, little lady?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I don’t know, little man. We’ll have to see, won’t we?”
He let the tailgate down and easily lifted her bike down. “I could get used to this. I think.”
She watched his back muscles strain against the polo shirt he wore as he reached for the other bike. He was a very fit man. Marc had always been in perfect shape. She pushed the thought aside, feeling guilty but needing not to go there for now. “Don’t speak too soon. I bet you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, you’re going to be so sore.”
He s
et the bike down and threw a leg over it as if it were his horse. “We’ll have to see about that, little lady.”
Polly hopped on her bike and took off down his driveway toward the bend. “Come on, cowboy, show me whatcha got.”
“Hey! Hold up,” he called as he kicked off, wobbled and almost wrecked because he was watching her rather than where he was going. She was looking over her shoulder, seeing his near crash. She cackled with glee as she stood up on the pedals to get more speed. She heard him laugh behind her and was glad he’d come along.
Nate didn’t mind trailing behind Pollyanna one bit.
He caught her at the road, still a bit loose, but with his leg-length advantage he figured once he’d caught her he wouldn’t lose her. Wrong.
“So tell me,” he said, when he pulled up beside her again a hundred feet down the paved road. This time he realized that he’d caught her because she’d let him. “Do you compete or what?”
She laughed, looking so much more carefree. Nate found himself unable to take his eyes off of her.
“No. I just like to ride. Look, someone’s coming! Quick, cover your legs so you don’t blind them.”
He dropped his chin. “Funny. Ha ha ha.”
She blinked, her expression blank. “I wasn’t joking.”
“Funny,” he repeated, causing her to smile.
The truck slowed so they stopped alongside it. It was the Wilcoxes. Esther Mae scooted to the driver’s side and looked over her husband’s shoulder at them. “Hi, you two. Goodness gracious, Nate, I don’t know if I’m more surprised to see you on a bike, wearing shorts or that your legs are whiter than my gardenias.”
“Hank, save me here, would ya?” Nate groaned.
Hank pushed his hat back from his weathered face and let his gaze drop to Nate’s legs. “I don’t know, Esther, I think the legs win hands down.” He chuckled.
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