“This is your room.”
“Our room. I built it for both of us.”
Tears blinded her, and she blinked, wishing for a free hand to slap them away. She wasn’t normally a crier, and she’d spent too many tears already.
“It smells like you. I don’t want to sleep here.” Liar. She’d slept in the Herman-scented sheets all week while he was in Austin.
He jerked as if she’d slapped him again. Her gaze flicked to the red print on his cheek.
“Norma.”
She closed her eyes and employed the begging tone she despised, the last weapon in her depleted arsenal. “Let me go.”
After a pause, she opened her eyes. Herman’s gaze stroked over her features, studying her with an intensity she hadn’t felt in...she didn’t remember the last time he’d looked at her that way. His pale eyes darkened to steel.
“I’m going to barbecue some steaks.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Norma.” The gentleness in his voice rubbed the raw spot where her heart used to beat for him.
“If I get hungry, I have a sandwich left from lunch.” She raised her eyes and hardened her gaze. “Enjoy dinner with your son.”
After another pause, he said, “Thank you for letting him stay.”
“He’s your son. He belongs here as much as I do. Maybe mo…”
Herman stepped toward her until she felt the heat of him. Her knees wobbled.
“Most women wouldn’t feel that way about their husband’s…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Bastard.”
Norma raised her chin, wished she had a free hand to drive home her next words. “Don’t call him that. He doesn’t deserve to be branded for your sins.”
Herman blinked and stepped out of her way. Norma rushed past him and up the stairs.
Once she reached the guest bedroom, she shut the door with her hip and dropped her clothes on the bed. She crumpled to her knees beside it and freed the stifled sobs.
She wept until her throat was raw and the bedding was as damp as a used towel.
But she didn’t feel any better. Not even when she began to pray, Lord, make the pain stop.
8
Herman wandered through the strip mall in Harrison and perused the hardware store in Rosewood. The fact they were in opposite directions on the highway through Sweet Grove meant he burned up daylight hours doing it. Adonis spent the same time searching for jobs, which Herman knew he should do.
But it still seemed surreal that he didn’t work for Macadam Rigging. His mind kept tricking him into believing this was just a vacation.
His stomach churned if he thought about employment in more than a passing manner, although he preferred that to the dull ache in his chest whenever Norma avoided and ignored him.
On Wednesday morning, he drove down Main Street. He intended to turn right on Lonestar Drive and wander through the hardware store. Instead, he turned left onto First Street and parked his commuter car in the small lot beside Mabel’s.
As expected, the diner was fairly empty at half-past ten. The only patron seemed to be Pastor Bernie, who nursed a cup of coffee in a booth at the back of the room, his Bible opened before him. Herman hesitated.
A curvaceous, dark-skinned woman emerged from the kitchen, cheeks flushed. Herman scanned her face and figure, and she haughtily jammed her hands onto ample hips.
“I’d say you’ve done enough looking at women who aren’t your wife.”
Herman straightened, and his gaze snapped to her face. A dark-skinned man stepped behind her, placing a possessive hand on her waist. Herman nodded to the pharmacists’ son, Jeffrey Berkley.
“What can I do for you?” Jeffrey’s voice was bland, but his eyes held obvious warning.
“Bring him to my table.”
Herman turned to see the pastor beckoning. The fight drained from the woman.
“Kristina will get you coffee. Or maybe a slice of pie.” The pastor gazed past him, the smile on his face meant for the waitress.
Herman hesitated a moment, but then realized he’d chosen this time and place to see the preacher. All week he’d noticed him at the diner between ten and eleven.
Herman walked over, each boot clomp on the tile floor sending a tremor of dread into him. What did he expect to gain from speaking to this man? Surely the preacher would judge him as harshly as the waitress.
Herman slid into the seat across from Bernie, darting a gaze out the window to a pickup rumbling past on First Street. He fumbled with the sugar jar, even though he despised sweet coffee.
Bernie spoke to the waitress, but Herman’s ears felt strangely muffled. A steaming cup of coffee slid toward the hand he’d rested on the tabletop.
“That’s good for now.” Pastor Bernie’s voice broke through the bubble in his hearing.
“Give me a sign when you’re ready for pie,” Kristina said.
Bernie smiled. The waitress turned away without a single glance cast toward Herman. Yep, she didn’t like him. He guessed most of the town felt the same. Norma was one of them while he’d remained aloof, a stranger, visiting often but never embracing the community.
“I’m glad to see you, Mr. Wells.”
“You are?”
The pastor cocked his head. “Why wouldn’t I be happy to see the husband of one of my church members?”
Herman fumbled with the handle on the cup to avoid the pastor’s gaze. Silence hung between them. Dishes clattered from the kitchen. When his gaze lit on the Bible, still open in front of the preacher, he stared into his cup.
Herman sipped the coffee, enjoying the scald on his tongue. The pain was honest and obvious, not like the assassin’s blade that struck with his secrets. And Norma still didn’t know he’d lost his job.
“I don’t listen to gossip, Mr. Wells.”
“Herman.” He glanced up to meet the pastor’s steady look.
The man’s lips twitched into a smile, and Herman realized the relaxed look of joy was familiar.
Bernie nodded. “Some people make up stories out of pure speculation. And you’ve been a mystery in Sweet Grove—a man who brings his wife to town and then is only around on weekends.”
Herman straightened against the vinyl booth. “My job requires a lot of travel. The office is in Austin.”
“Why move so far from your job?”
“This was the perfect place to raise a family.”
A family he and Norma never had. Herman’s gut twisted, and the familiar pain ghosted down his left arm.
“But God never blessed you and Norma with children. Is that why you sought another woman?”
Herman’s eyes widened at the direct question. “I didn’t seek her.” He clamped his teeth together, unable to stop the growling denial. The words were the truth, and they were a lie.
Herman considered himself a one-woman man. He loved Norma, and they were good together. Until she couldn’t get pregnant. In the year before he’d met Osaria, Norma’s desire for a child had turned the physical aspect of their marriage into a string of obligatory appointments. Rather than enjoying intimacy and release, he’d felt pressure to perform, to father a child, and to give her what she desperately desired. But he still hadn’t planned to stray.
Bernie studied him with hazel eyes. A slant of sunlight turned his red hair into burnished copper. The man waited patiently for the story, but Herman wouldn’t tell him what he hadn’t even told his wife.
“So you got a woman pregnant.”
Herman jolted against the seat. He swallowed more coffee, grimacing at the heat streaking down his throat.
“You felt responsible for the child?” The preacher nodded to himself.
“My dad never could take care of us.” Herman raised the coffee cup to block the words.
The pastor stroked his chin. “And you thought your secret would never come out?” Bernie leaned forward, forearms relaxing on the table. “They always do, you know.” There was a hint of bitter experience in the man’s tone.
�
�She was an immigrant from Mexico. She had no means to provide for herself and the baby, so I took care of them.”
Bernie nodded, face open and non-condemning.
“At the time, I was working in New Mexico for one week out of every three. I bought a house.” He shrugged and stared at his clasped hands. “I helped her get a better job with Macadam.”
Bernie raised his eyebrows. “Why not leave Norma? You had it all with this other woman.”
Herman shook his head. “I loved Osaria, but not like I loved...love...Norma. We had a passionate connection.” Herman stared into his coffee. “As soon as I left Osaria, I would think of Norma, but never the other way around.”
Bernie studied him. “You lived two separate lives.”
“Three.” A lump formed to cut off his words. He’d had a family and a career, but Norma was his home. Why was he only realizing that now?
“Love relationships need constant care and attention.”
Herman shrugged. “I thought material things were more important. I didn’t…” He sipped the coffee, noticing his hand trembled on the handle. “I grew up poor, and I promised myself I would never let my wife and kids live like that.”
The pastor nodded, and a spark of understanding entered his eyes. “Why not bring the boy here?”
Herman’s gaze shot to the pastor’s face. Nothing in the man’s expression suggested he was joking, but how could he be serious?
“The boy didn’t exist in Norma’s world.”
“You can’t live in three different worlds, Herman. You are one man with one life.”
Herman shook his head. In his mind, each part of his life was walled off from the other. Sweet Grove was the haven he wanted for his love, a place he would have wanted to grow up. Las Cruces was obligation and duty, and Austin was a job, a means to provide for his responsibilities.
“Do you know the Lord?”
Herman snorted. “I’m an adulterer, preacher. That should clarify things.”
Bernie shook his head. “Jesus condemned those who brought the adulteress to him, but he didn’t condemn her. She chose to repent and follow him.”
Herman’s eyes widened. “So if I have a come-to-Jesus moment, all this will go away?”
Bernie pursed his lips. “That’s not how it works. There’s the law of the harvest. What we sow, we have to reap.”
Herman stared at the pastor. He knew he had to live with the consequences of his mistakes. Part of him had hoped that his provisional care of everyone would count for something. He’d tried to give them everything they needed.
The ache in his heart surged. He couldn’t grant Norma’s wishes. He couldn’t cause her body to conceive, and the irony of the ease with which he’d impregnated what would have been a one-night stand was a whip on his back.
“I can’t undo anything. But I want to make it right with Norma.”
The pastor took a drink of his coffee and stared out the window. “Did you tell her that?”
Herman made a strangling noise. “She hasn’t been keen to listen to anything I have to say.”
“She hasn’t left yet. That’s a good sign.”
Herman’s stomach slammed into his heart. Tingles vibrated up his chest and into his shoulder. Norma couldn’t leave him. He didn’t deserve her love or forgiveness, but he would grovel at her feet for the rest of his life if she would only give him another chance.
Would she ever let him explain that?
9
Norma stopped beside the motorcycle, and her stomach flopped like a dying fish. Even though Herman and the boy hadn’t gone back to Austin on Monday, she’d been able to avoid the boy for most of the week. The reprieve was over.
“Help me out here, Lord.” The muttered prayer sprang off her lips before she considered it.
At least this crisis wasn’t causing problems in her spiritual life. A cramp where her heart used to be gave her conscience a little twinge.
Except for the burning anger and unwillingness to forgive.
Norma swished into the house and dropped her lunch bag on the counter. She rushed upstairs and changed into sweats and an over-sized shirt. Her favorite part of being mad at Herman was how little she cared about her appearance around him. She used to spend hours at the hair salon on Friday after work, and wear a dress and heels to greet him at the door.
A fat lot of good that did. He’d been sleeping around anyway.
Back downstairs, she cleaned out her lunch box and poured a glass of sweet tea. As she spun to return the pitcher to the refrigerator, Adonis entered the kitchen.
Shorts hung to his knees, baring hairless, muscular calves. The sight of them had her picturing the thick hair on Herman’s legs. A shirt clung to Adonis’s toned chest and revealed his shoulders and arms. Norma froze, sure she resembled a deer caught in headlights.
“Hey, Miss Norma.” She’d finally managed to get him to stop calling her ma’am, and now he sounded like one of the kids at church or school.
“Tea?” She raised her glass.
He nodded. She fumbled for a glass and poured it full before returning the pitcher to the refrigerator. She snagged her tea and padded toward the back door. Guilt stabbed her gut.
“I’m going to the gazebo if you want to join me.” Norma threw the invitation over her shoulder and hurried out, not waiting to see his response.
She’d just stretched her feet out onto the ottoman when his footsteps creaked on the stairs. A moment later, he sat in the chair beside her. Herman’s chair. Her chest ached.
“What were you up to today?” She could be friendly. If she didn’t look at him, she could forget he was Herman’s son. Herman’s son, not hers.
“Looking for jobs up in Rosewood. Not much I’m interested in.”
“Oh? What are you looking for?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, and Norma kept her eyes trained on the pasture.
“Building, maybe.”
“Is that what you did in Las Cruces?” Just speaking the name crucified her.
“Nah. Mostly I helped my uncle’s crews with harvesting.” Another long pause. “I’d really like to assemble things, build a machine from scratch.”
“There’re manufacturing plants in Austin.” If you go there, I won’t have to be reminded of what I don’t have.
“Not really what I mean.” He slurped the tea. “Maybe something at a customization body shop.”
“Body shop?” The barn cat yowled and arched its back into her calves.
“A place they rebuild cars or motorcycles.”
She leaned forward to rub the cat’s head. He allowed it before stalking toward the boy. Norma glanced at Adonis, who stared at the pastoral view with a furrowed brow. “You have mechanical experience?”
He shrugged. “I took classes in high school.”
“There’s a man in town who builds motorcycles.”
Adonis turned his head and stared, eyes widening.
“I don’t know if he’s hiring or not. I can look up the address for you.”
Adonis nodded and looked down, hand dropping toward the tom cat. “Why are you helping me?”
“It’s not helping you if he’s not hiring.”
Crickets chirping and the rumble of the cat’s purr filled a silence. “You’re nice to me, but you won’t talk to D—Manny.”
“Why do you call him that?”
“It’s what my mom called him.”
Norma bristled. You asked. Since she’d opened that door, she might as well assuage her curiosity.
“Tell me about your life with him.”
In the silence following her request, the cat meowed, reaching its claws up to the arm of Norma’s teak chair. She patted the cat’s head, and its rumbling purr resumed.
“He drove Mom to work when he was there. Maybe one or two weeks each month.”
“She worked at Macadam?” Norma’s stomach tightened.
Adonis nodded. “He helped get her off the janitorial crew and into the mail room.”
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She slept her way up? Norma berated herself for having the callous thought. Why was she judging a woman she knew nothing about?
Because she slept with my husband. Had a son with my husband.
“He told me school was super important and helped me with my homework. Tossed the baseball with me and taught me to build things.” The boy paused. Norma glanced to see a wistful expression cloud his face. “Mom said he helped her learn English before I was born, and when I was a baby.”
“Your mom came from…”
“Mexico. Legally. Sponsored by my uncle’s employer.”
Norma raised her eyebrows at his defensive tone. “He was a good father, then.” Had she doubted it?
“When he was there.” Bitterness edged the boy’s tone. “I knew he had another family, his ‘real’ family, and that’s why he didn’t stay with us all the time.”
Norma gasped. “He told you that?”
Adonis shook his head. “Mom did. She didn’t want me to build up false hopes.” After a pause, he added, “But I did anyway.”
For the first time, Norma imagined what Adonis’s life had been like. His mother was an immigrant, and his father was mostly absent. Every moment with Herman must have fueled his wish to be his “real” son.
“You’re his only child.” The familiar longing burned in her chest. “And you’ve always been his real son. I’m sorry you thought otherwise.”
She patted his wrist. His arm twitched, and he stared at her hand and then her face.
“But he always came back to you.” The boy’s voice crackled.
Norma looked away and laughed, a hard, bitter sound without a scrap of joy. “For most of the past twenty years, he’s spent weekends with me. Sometimes only a couple weekends every month.”
And for most of that time, she’d felt like they were mini-honeymoons. There were a few years, when their attempts to have children failed, that she’d become morose and they hadn’t enjoyed an idyllic relationship. But still, he came home and tried to interest her in improving the farm. Sometime during those hard years, she’d found lipstick on his collar and suspected he might be having an affair, but she didn’t blame him. She hardly wanted to be around herself, so why shouldn’t he seek amenable company in the arms of another woman?
Love's Little Secrets (Sweet Grove Romance Book 2; First Street Church #10) Page 5