This property had turned into another field of broken hopes. The story of his life, really, and he needed to explain it to the son he abandoned in ways his own father never had.
His boots clomped on the solid wooden steps. The screen door moved with well-oiled silence, and the door handle turned easily under his palm. He never left anything unlocked in Austin, and he hadn’t wanted his family to feel insecure.
Guilt gnawed in his gut. He pulled a glass from the kitchen cupboard and set in beside the fridge. “Make yourself at home.”
Herman’s fingers loosened the tie on his walk down the hallway to the master suite. It was one of the first things he’d added when they’d moved into the house. His boots sunk in the plush carpeting, and he shed the jacket, hanging it in the smaller of two walk-in closets. Indirect sunlight flooded through the double picture windows overlooking their backyard.
At the sight of the gazebo, his heart wrenched and dipped toward his stomach.
How could he do this to Norma? She would never forgive him. Why should she? He couldn’t forgive himself. If he had never moved her so far from Austin, maybe things could have been different.
He tossed the dress shirt over a hanger. Rather than changing further, he clomped back toward the kitchen wearing his undershirt.
The kitchen was empty, but he snagged a glass and poured it full of sweet tea. After gulping half the liquid, he filled it to the rim again and returned the pitcher to the refrigerator. Norma’s sweet tea hit the spot. As with everything, she’d learned exactly how he liked it and made it to suit him.
And he committed adultery. Could he sink any lower?
A sound from the front room drew his attention. No use putting it off. The boy had traveled halfway across Texas to find him. There was no way he could avoid facing the consequences for abandoning him.
His boots thudded on the satin-finished walnut boards. He’d spent hours on his knees sanding and refinishing the original wood until it glowed.
The boy stood beside the flowered sofa, holding a photo book in his hand. It was one Norma had ordered from some online retailer after they’d returned from a cruise several years ago.
The dark eyes glanced up, and the book slammed shut. “Why?”
“Company restructure.”
Adonis shook his head and snatched a half-empty glass of tea from the coffee table. The book smacked beside the abandoned coaster, and Herman gritted his teeth to keep from reacting. The boy knew better than to disrespect furniture and possessions, because he’d taught him to treat everything as if it belonged to the richest man in the world.
“Why did you pretend we were your family?” The boy pointed an accusing finger at the book. “You already had one.”
“I didn’t pretend. Norma and me...” He swallowed another mouthful of tea. “We had no kids.”
Adonis turned away and stalked toward the far end of the room. His shoulders were wide and his frame strong. At fifteen, he’d been working with his uncle in the maintenance business that had paid to bring many of Osaria’s siblings to America legally.
Herman waited for more accusations. Finally, the silence became too much. “Tell me about your mother.”
“Why pretend to care?”
A violent emotion, long suppressed, roared inside Herman’s midsection, clawed its way up his throat. His jaw ached as he clenched to keep it caged. Pain twinged in the left side of his chest and sparked down his arm.
“I loved you and your mother. She knew from the very beginning what I could offer her.”
Adonis whirled toward him, eyes narrowing into slits. “What you could take from her, you mean?”
Herman stiffened. He’d paid the woman’s rent and medical bills for fifteen years, and made certain she worked unmolested in the Las Cruces office. She’d been sweeping floors and scrubbing toilets when he’d met her, barely able to speak English. She ran the administrative team when he left.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.”
“She died. You broke her heart when you left.”
Herman’s breath choked him. He sipped the tea, letting the cool liquid sit in his mouth until he was sure it would clear the obstruction in his throat. After he swallowed, he returned his son’s stare. “It was the best I could do.”
“You know who helped me build that bike?” The boy gestured in the direction they’d parked. “Not my father. I finally got old enough to do all those things you promised—” His voice cut off.
Herman’s fingers squeezed the glass, slipping on the damp surface. What could he say? The accusations were true. He’d made plans to be the best father possible for two weeks of every month, and then the company had pulled the rug out from under him by sending him back to Texas.
“How long ago?” His voice was a raspy whisper. Osaria was twelve years younger than him, barely twenty when he’d first met her.
“Seven months.”
How could the boy blame him? He hadn’t spoken to Osaria in five years, not since her dark eyes begged him to stay until she saw he wouldn’t relent.
“How?”
“Pancreatic cancer. She didn’t even know she was sick until a year ago.” The boy whirled away, voice thick with emotion.
Herman set his nearly empty glass on an end table. It was one of the few items his grandfather had built that survived the liquidation of his estate. Herman’s knees wobbled as he walked toward Adonis and he set a hand on the boy’s trembling shoulder.
They stood that way for many minutes. Silence seeped into Herman’s soul. It was the thing he loved most about this place. Noise surrounded him in Austin where he spent Monday through Thursday nights, but as soon as he shut off the car in Sweet Grove, absolute quietness blanketed him.
“I’m glad you found me.”
After a few more moments, Adonis said in a shaky voice, “You didn’t make it easy. The people at Macadam didn’t want to tell me anything.”
No, they wouldn’t. Privacy issues and all that, even though Adonis could prove his relationship because Herman was named on his birth certificate.
“But you’re smarter than them.”
His son snorted. “More determined.”
“Like a dog with a stolen steak.”
Adonis twirled and studied him with eyes very like his mother’s. Herman’s skin crawled under the perusal, but he forced away the impulse to squirm and met the boy’s gaze.
“So you always said.” A warmth Herman didn’t deserve bled into the boy’s tone.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Herman nodded toward the front door. “Want to see the place?”
“Won’t your wife be mad?”
Herman’s flush of pleasure froze. How had he forgotten about Norma? She’d be home eventually, and he’d have to face her wrath. But she wouldn’t make his son leave, would she?
“She loves kids.”
Adonis shook his head. “I’m not a kid. And I doubt she even likes me.”
Herman squeezed his shoulder. “You’re my kid, and she’ll respect that.”
Adonis’s eyes screamed disbelief, and he shrugged from Herman’s grip.
Herman walked to the door. “This place is twenty acres, cross-fenced for cattle.”
The boy followed him onto the porch, and the screen clanged behind them with booming finality.
5
Norma’s stomach clenched tighter and tighter as Kyanna wheeled her SUV onto Armstrong Road. Would she still live there in a month? Or would the other woman take her place?
Herman had a family, something Norma could never give him. So much for thinking she wanted children more than he did.
“You can stay as long as you like.” Kyanna’s tone held the same compassion she used with students in the throes of drama.
“Just until Monday.”
“The invitation’s open.”
Norma appreciated the sincerity and the friendship, but she wasn’t going to run from the problem even though she wasn’t ready to face it today. A quiet night or tw
o far from the cause of the expanding abyss in her chest was in order if she wanted to function in the morning.
The Rav4 turned into the narrow gravel drive. Norma straightened against the seat, fingers hovering over the seatbelt release. Maybe they would be out in the fields.
Please God.
Once inside the house, Norma threw a change of clothes for lounging and something to sleep in into her overnight bag. She tossed her cosmetic case and hairbrush on top, snagging the hangers for her dress and jacket and work clothes for Monday with her right hand. She’d almost made it to the front door when the back door opened.
She walked faster, sighing when she flung open the door.
Except Herman stood there blocking her path to the waiting vehicle.
“Norma—”
“Don’t, Herman. I need some time.”
His gaze swung between the bag and the clothes. He pinned her with those pale eyes, and emotion shivered along her spine.
“We need to talk.”
“Not now.”
“Don’t walk out.” His gruff words could have been a command except for the way the last word broke off too soon. Emotion from the stoic one?
“I’ll be back. Monday.” She met his gaze. “After work.”
He stepped forward, touched her hand. She flinched away. His grunt of surprise landed a punch in her stomach. She was not the type of person who repaid hurt for hurt.
“I can carry these.” His hand stopped inches from the handle of the bag.
“I’ve got it.”
The stare-down stretched, and her knees began to tremble.
“I’m sorry about hurting you.”
She sucked in a deep breath. Couldn’t he be sorry for sleeping with another woman? Or for slaying any hope the childlessness wasn’t one hundred percent her fault? Or maybe that apology was supposed to cover all that.
It didn’t. Not even close.
“I’ll be home Monday.” When you’re back in Austin.
He stepped aside. She felt his warmth and bulk as she brushed by him. She rushed toward the car as quickly as her trembling legs would carry her.
Kyanna waited beside the car, holding the back door. Norma shoved her clothes and bag inside, while Kyanna stood sentinel at her back. Norma could feel the waves of animosity and protectiveness from her boss.
Finally, they were in the car again, driving back toward Sweet Grove.
The gaping hole inside her soul wasn’t left behind so easily.
* * *
When Norma had been a stranger, First Street Church welcomed her and drew her into its community. As Kyanna pulled into the parking lot on Sunday, Norma’s stomach tightened. It wasn’t the nervousness she’d felt all those years ago, but trepidation at seeing the location of the party gone wrong. The expressions of pity she imagined almost kept her from exiting once the car stopped.
Kyanna walked beside her. The usher greeted her with his usual smile, shook her hand, and offered the weekly bulletin. Norma sighed, and tension seeped from her neck and shoulders.
Inside, Norma blinked to acclimate her not-so-young eyes to the dim lighting. Tabitha Olsen bustled her way, brows furrowed and mouth pressed in a straight line. Her cool hands squeezed Norma’s, feeling almost warm to the chill that had permeated her since she’d discovered the news.
“I’ve got someone to cover your class.”
Norma huffed out a breath. She loved the first graders, but the thought of facing those innocent faces had sent her into a crying jag an hour before. Kyanna promised to take care of it, so she must have called the preacher’s wife.
Norma shot a grateful look toward her boss. Her chin dipped slightly.
“I can sit with you—”
Norma cut Tabitha’s words off with a shake of her head. Everyone had responsibilities, and she could huddle at the back of the sanctuary without drawing too much attention. She hoped.
A sudden twang in her bladder made Norma motion toward the ladies’ room.
“I’ll wait out here.” Kyanna’s gaze drifted past her.
Roth Stryker and his daughter entered the building. A smile lit his thin face. Norma raised a knowing eyebrow at Kyanna.
At least someone was happy.
In the bathroom, only the hum of the light interrupted the silence. Later, they would pipe in the music and sermon, but Norma appreciated the stillness. She finished and stood to readjust her hose when the door to her stall shuddered and feminine voices shattered her calm.
“Everyone knows he’s been cheating on her for years.” The words came in a stage whisper.
“But to bring that…that…” The other woman spluttered.
“Illegitimate son? Looking like something produced with a Mexican princess.” Snideness stole the pretend secretiveness.
“I just feel so, so, so sorry for Norma.”
The snide one harrumphed. Norma shrunk against the wall. The cool toilet tank pressed against her hip.
“She should have put her foot down about his traveling years ago.” Water ran in the sink, muffling the next words.
Norma pressed her palms over her mouth, breathing shallowly. Her heart slammed against her breastbone. Could they hear it? It sounded louder than a bass drum in her ears.
The water stopped running. Rattling announced the retrieval of paper towels.
“Did you see the ring he got her?” This was the sympathetic voice.
The other woman snorted. “Guilt drives a man to buy the prettiest things. Doesn't excuse his infidelity.”
The women exited the bathroom. The sudden silence felt sharp rather than comforting.
Norma steadied her breath. Her hands shook as she washed and dried them, glad the enormous ring wasn’t there to bear witness to the truth of what she’d overheard. She’d left it on the dresser, putting her plain band back on.
I don’t want pity. But do I deserve scorn?
She stared into her reflection, waiting for some answer to her prayer. Purple bags underscored her pale brown eyes.
Finally, her heart and stomach settled. She joined her friend, but cotton filled her ears and muted the songs and sermon.
Saddest of all, she couldn’t find God anywhere.
* * *
Work on Monday flashed by. Norma’s stomach ached as she headed the beastly truck toward home. Would it still feel like home?
As she bumped down the drive, she sighed in relief when she saw both the car and motorcycle were gone. After pulling the truck beside the garage, Norma stared into the grit-covered window. Darkness beyond cloaked Herman’s workshop. He’d spent hours there, and she loved watching him measure and cut. When he sawed and sanded his projects into works of art, an enticing woody scent filled the space.
In the past few years, he’d spent more time in the shop, and their weekend hours together became numbered in single digits. Was it because he was in love with the boy’s mother? Or maybe she’d become too immersed in her volunteerism at the church. The distance seemed vast, wider than the Grand Canyon.
Norma shook the thoughts away and carried her purse and lunch bag inside. A strange aroma wafted to greet her, but she found nothing amiss in the kitchen. Her feet dragged down the hallway. The bedroom door was open a crack. When she swung it wide, the musky scent of Herman swelled over her.
Tears blinded her. She strode to his closet and threw open the door. Inside, she pressed her face to a white dress shirt—part of his work uniform—letting tears soak it. The scent of his aftershave lingered, nauseating her as she thought of another woman nuzzling into its lively warmth. Spicy with a hint of the outdoors, the smell had been distinctly Herman since she’d purchased the aftershave for their first anniversary.
The memory flowed.
Norma pressed her face against his neck, breathing deeply. “It’s too sexy for you to wear to work.”
Herman grunted. “Only you think I’m sexy.” His hands cupped her hips, and he pulled her hard against him.
She shook her head. The split
inside her ribcage she’d managed to ignore while working yawned wider. She gasped at the agony.
It wouldn’t do to remember the good times. They hadn’t been enough to keep him faithful. She couldn’t give him children, and in recent years their bedroom had become a chamber for strangers. Was it any wonder he’d strayed?
Norma slammed the closet door, pretending it would close out half a lifetime of memories. But she couldn’t force herself to strip the bed to rid it of Herman.
Every morning, she awoke, gripping his pillow as if it comforted her emotional hurts.
Her morning’s prayers were, “Lord, help.” They seemed to rebound off the ceiling and back into her gaping chest wound.
But life carried on.
6
Austin’s downtown area was an eclectic mix of rustic brick and adobe, and modern steel and glass buildings, but it seemed noisier, hotter, and smellier than Herman had ever noticed. Adonis spent the days checking out the universities while Herman hounded local oilers to purchase rigging. On Thursday, Herman took a long loop from his small house on the south side of town toward the office, giving his son a quick tour of Texas’ capital. Macadam Rigging owned a building several blocks from the capitol in a refurbished office complex.
Herman parked in the lot, glancing longingly at the spot close to the entrance which belonged to him when he’d been the Regional Sales Manager. A breeze crackling with electricity kept the morning from being too warm.
Adonis stared up at the building, a five-story rectangle with the company logo on one corner. Herman knew the opposite side of the building had been converted into a main entrance for a digital marketing firm, the third tenant to sublet the portion of the building no longer needed by Macadam’s shrinking staff.
He shook thoughts of decline away. Today, he’d show Adonis the inner workings of the business. He doubted the boy would want to enter the crippled oil industry, but Herman was proud of his life’s work. Thanks to allegations about climate change and the demand to reduce carbon footprints, the decline would continue. It made him glad he would retire in another decade.
Love's Little Secrets (Sweet Grove Romance Book 2; First Street Church #10) Page 3