“Kids?” he called, loud enough to be heard across the stable. “Anyone up for some ice cream?”
*
The last thing Heather wanted to do was follow Shawn back to his house. Shame filled her at the way she’d treated him, at the reactions she couldn’t seem to be able to control even after all this time. He hadn’t deserved her going off on him the way she had.
He’d graciously accepted her fumbling apology, but he’d closed up on her. And it was no wonder.
If it weren’t for the fact that Shawn had offered the kids ice-cream sandwiches—their favorite special-occasion dessert—she would have come up with some lame excuse for why she had to leave immediately. Never mind that she wouldn’t be fulfilling her obligation to do what she came here to do—namely, checking Shawn’s progress on baby-proofing his house before the social worker made her official visit.
Let it go. Let it go.
Heather’s heart continued to reel from the memory of Shawn’s gentle touch and her own outlandish reaction. Her thoughts and emotions made her equal parts alarmed and angry. Angry that Adrian had ruined even the possibility of her responding well to a kind touch, or ever knowing love in her life, and the fear that—
Well, there it was. She’d been around Shawn enough to believe that the man he presented to the world was exactly the man he continued to be behind closed doors. With Shawn, what a woman saw was what she got. Like seeing the way he cherished Noelle, pretty much acting as if the sun and moon rose in her tiny face. He was the kind of man any normal woman would be thrilled to have a relationship with.
But she wasn’t normal, now, was she?
Adrian had never in his life dealt with another human being the way Shawn treated virtually everyone with whom he crossed paths. Lost in the throes of his addiction, Adrian only had room in his life for one person—himself. And his scotch. The few times she’d tried to interrupt the relationship between the man and his booze had resulted in a broken wrist. Broken ribs.
Dead children.
Was it any wonder she still reacted negatively to even the slightest touch from a man? No one could blame her if she did.
But she hated it. Really, really hated her inability to live a normal life. She’d give anything not to have to explain to Shawn why she’d responded the way she had.
Not to live in perpetual fear.
“Food first, and then a tour of the house,” Shawn said, breaking into her thoughts. Nothing about awkward explanations. He unstrapped Noelle from his chest and kissed her downy forehead. “Ice cream for the older kids, and it’s a bottle of formula for you, Little Miss Noelle.” He gestured to Heather and pointed to the freezer. “I’ve got two flavors—of ice cream, that is. Strawberry and vanilla. The children can choose whichever they like. You, too, Heather. And there’s coffee in the pot by the sink. Now if you’ll excuse me a moment, I have to take care of somebody’s wet diaper.”
Once Shawn was out of her line of vision, Heather busied herself serving ice-cream sandwiches to the children. Her stomach was too raw to take one for herself, but a warm cup of coffee sounded good. She located the pot and then went in search of mugs.
She wasn’t snooping, but it was quickly evident that Shawn’s cabinets were as bleak as his decor—which was to say, he had nothing. Or almost nothing.
Four mismatched glass dinner plates in one cupboard. A couple of large, fluorescent-green plastic cups graced another. She finally found two unadorned white coffee mugs in the cabinet over the sink.
“I take it you don’t have many guests around here,” she said to Shawn when he returned. She poured two cups from the carafe. “I could only find these two mugs for the coffee. I hope they’re okay.”
“They’re fine. As you observed, they are our only choice.”
“I thought pastors did a lot of that. Entertaining, I mean.”
He plunked Noelle into the bassinet and then rummaged through the walk-in pantry, reappearing with a baby bottle in hand. Then he opened the refrigerator and removed what Heather assumed was a jug of baby formula.
“I can offer you sugar for your coffee. Sorry, no milk—unless you want a drop of this.” He hefted the container of formula and chuckled. “I’m not guaranteeing how it would taste in coffee.”
“Eww.” She wrinkled her nose. His teasing put her at ease. “No, that’s okay. I think I’ll pass.”
“It’s exactly like you said. I don’t get visitors. I don’t drink milk, so I don’t buy the stuff. I suppose that’ll change if I have Noelle for more than a few months.” A flash of melancholy crossed his gaze, but only for a moment. Then his expression cleared and filled with so much joy Heather wondered if she’d imagined the sadness in his eyes.
“I’m sure you’ll adapt,” she assured him, taking a seat in the nearest kitchen chair and leaning her forearms against the table, which was littered with an assortment of baby-proofing hardware. “Look at you. You already are.”
Shawn’s red-gold eyebrows danced. He zapped the contents of the bottle for a few seconds, removed it from the microwave and tested the temperature of the formula against the inside of his wrist.
“See? You’re a pro.”
“I’m getting there. Even diaper duty isn’t too bad anymore.” He settled into the chair opposite her, cradling Noelle in one arm. She couldn’t believe how much more comfortable he appeared with Noelle compared to the first few days he’d had with the baby.
Noelle was likewise a great deal more complacent, taking her bottle from Shawn without even a whimper of protest.
It didn’t take long for Heather’s kids to finish their ice cream, nor for Noelle to drain her bottle. Heather and Shawn kept up insignificant chatter, but to her, at least, there was a gigantic elephant in the room, one she knew she’d eventually have to address.
The questions were there in his eyes, even if he didn’t voice them aloud.
Why had she bolted like a branded calf when he touched her?
Like the gentleman he was, he didn’t press her for answers. He was clearly letting her set the pace.
“Why don’t you kids go out onto the back porch and throw a stick for Queenie?” Shawn suggested as he tucked a now-sleeping Noelle into the bassinet.
“Stay where I can see you,” Heather added. The sliding glass door wouldn’t make it difficult to monitor the kids from where she sat in the comfort of the kitchen.
Her heart softened as she watched Shawn fuss over the baby. It was incredibly cute how he took extra care to make sure she was tightly swaddled and resting comfortably, and the nonsense syllables he babbled at her were beyond adorable. Heather suspected Noelle might nap better in the crib in her bedroom—the Jenny Lind crib she’d helped Shawn pick out the day they were in San Antonio. But from all appearances, Shawn didn’t want to let Noelle out of his sight, not even for a minute.
So sweet. So loving. The man had father written all over him.
Her own father had died when she was just ten, but to her as a child, he had been a shining example of all that a man could be. She remembered him leaning in close to her mother and tickling her ribs just to see her giggle. Her father’s laugh had been hearty and frequent. She idealized him, and consciously or unconsciously had been looking all her life for those qualities her father had possessed in abundance—qualities Adrian had initially seemed to share. She’d realized only too late that it was all an illusion.
A man like Shawn—handsome, clean-cut, responsible, a man of faith and a pastor—why, he ticked off every item on any woman’s hypothetical Qualities to Look for in a Man list. So why hadn’t some nice Christian woman come along and taken him off the market?
She didn’t like how uncomfortable the thought of another woman in his life made her feel. She lifted her chin and shifted her gaze away from him. Better that she keep her eyes and her mind on her children, who were having a raucously good time throwing sticks for Queenie. The dog was plenty energetic enough to keep up with all three of them.
Silence reigne
d in the room, hot and thick and heavy. This was beyond awkward. Shawn had just seen her at her worst out there in the barn, panicking at his mere touch even though he’d done nothing to deserve her distrust. She could feel his gaze upon her but didn’t have the heart to turn back to see what he was thinking.
Coward.
No, she was not a coward—not anymore.
Elephant in the room? She was going to tame that beast right now, before the circus began.
She cleared her throat and turned her attention to him. He was, indeed, staring at her, but it didn’t unnerve her the way she expected it to. He kept his full attention on her face. That was something else she’d noticed about Shawn. He looked people straight in the eye. Not so much challenging her, but stepping up beside her and comforting her without words or a physical touch.
She swallowed hard to remove the lump of emotion choking the breath from her lungs and forced the words from her mouth. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I did the—er—Texas Two-Step out in the barn earlier.”
He didn’t even pretend not to understand. He acknowledged her statement with a brief nod, and compassion flooded his gaze. His tenderness nearly undid her. She could not—would not—come unhinged while talking about Adrian. Her past was just that—her past. There was no way around the pain and discomfort except to plunge forward, right through the middle of it, and no amount of time or therapy would ever quite take away the sting.
“I wondered,” Shawn murmured. “But I don’t want to push you. If you’re not ready to talk about it, that’s okay. I’m here for you if you need me, but I don’t want you to feel I’m pressuring you.”
“Is that your pastoral training talking?” She didn’t know why she said it that way. The question sounded dismissive and off-putting even to her ears. She couldn’t imagine how it sounded to him.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No. I don’t think there is training for situations like this one. I want to be your friend, Heather, not your pastor. If you’ll let me.”
Could she let him?
Her heart said yes, but she didn’t trust her emotions anymore.
“You probably know I was married before,” she began, stumbling over her words.
He nodded but didn’t interrupt.
“Well, what you don’t know—it’s something I don’t usually talk about.” She paused and squeezed her eyes shut, praying she could get through this and say the words aloud. “My ex-husband is serving time in prison.”
“Is he?”
“Yes. It’s where he belongs. Adrian is not a nice man, but he puts on a surprisingly effective facade. I’m embarrassed to admit I fell for it. I thought I was marrying a charming, faithful man. It was only after we’d exchanged vows that I discovered I was married to a monster.”
“He was physically abusive,” Shawn concluded. It hadn’t taken much for him to fill in the blanks. “Which explains a lot.”
“That was the least of it.” Heather couldn’t keep the disgust from her voice, nor the fear and pain.
“Don’t say that.” Shawn started to reach across the table, then abruptly stopped himself and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
His gaze said it all. He believed in her. How little he knew.
“It kills me that he hurt you,” Shawn said through gritted teeth. He clenched his hands into fists, and his biceps pulsed, but oddly enough, she didn’t feel threatened by his posture. She felt safe. “What makes this infinitely worse is that I can see the lasting effects his abuse has had on you, showing me that he’s still hurting you even though he’s not around anymore. Honey, you’re worth more than you know. To God. To your kids. To me.”
Her breath scratched against her throat. She so wanted to believe his words, but he’d spoken in haste, before he’d heard the whole story. Once he had, she had no doubt his opinion of her would take a nosedive. She was too far beyond God’s grace for easy redemption.
She paused. Maybe she should stop right here and not say any more. She’d said enough to explain her peculiar reaction to him in the barn. She could leave off and he’d never have to know the woman she really was.
But she wanted—well, she didn’t even know what she wanted. Or at least, she couldn’t put it into words. But she was certain playing the pity card wasn’t going to get it for her.
Shawn had extended a genuine hand of friendship. She couldn’t accept it under false pretenses, no matter how much a part of her wanted to sweep her past under the rug. No, her memories were something she would have to live with for the rest of her life.
“I need to tell you why Adrian is behind bars.”
Shawn’s lips quirked and his gaze flashed with anger. “If you’d like to tell me, I’ll listen.”
Heather shoved out a breath and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Homicide.”
Chapter Six
The word hung in the air like an icicle between them. Sharp. Jagged. Dangerous.
Shawn pursed his lips, searching for words. What was there to say?
“He killed someone.” It wasn’t a question, and Shawn didn’t phrase it as such.
“Three people.” Heather’s complexion turned a pasty white. Shawn couldn’t blame her. He felt a little nauseated himself. “A mother and her two children.”
Oh, dear Lord, comfort her, he prayed silently. What a heavy burden Heather was carrying.
Shawn had already suspected that Heather was the victim of physical abuse, and there was no shortcut out of that camp. But the fact that Adrian had somehow killed people? That was heaping misery upon misery.
“How did it happen?” He approached the question with caution. Bringing these memories to the surface was clearly painful for Heather, but at the same time, he suspected sharing her burden with someone—with him—might be the first step in her healing process. He experienced a deep, burning desire to be the bridge that reconnected Heather with God and helped her find peace within herself.
“It was an automobile accident—if you can call it an accident. He ran a stop sign and sideswiped the vehicle.”
“That’s terrible.” His chest ached so hard he thought it might burst. And if it was this bad for him, he couldn’t imagine how Heather could even stand it. He wanted to do something, anything, to ease her pain. He’d never felt so helpless in all his life. His very ministry was built on his ability to come alongside people and comfort and strengthen them, guide them back to the gentle fold of God.
He searched, but he had nothing.
“It was terrible,” she said, pressing her palm to her temple. “The police showing up at our door. Adrian being arrested. Finding out that children had died because of his actions. The whole thing makes me sick. And the worst part is, I was an accomplice.” She swept in a breath that was half a hiccup, half a sob. “God forgive me, I let it happen.”
“That can’t be true.” Shawn could see the shades of guilt in her gaze, but he didn’t understand it. How could this sweet woman, who had done nothing to deserve the physical and emotional abuse she’d endured, blame herself for the accident? Didn’t she realize that she was as much a victim as that poor family Adrian had hit?
“You see, I let him walk out the door that day. I knew he was going to get behind the wheel of a car. And he’d been—”
The doorbell rang, bringing her sentence to a grinding halt, but Shawn knew what she was about to say.
He’d been drinking.
This time the sharp ache in his gut was all too familiar. He knew all about alcoholism and the helplessness those who lived with such addicts felt. Surely she realized she couldn’t have stopped Adrian even if she’d tried. Couldn’t have stopped him from drinking, and couldn’t have stopped the reckless behavior once the alcohol was in his system.
Thoughts shot through his head like bullets as he excused himself to answer the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone. As he’d told Heather earlier, he rarely had visitors. He was often invited to his parishioners’ homes to share a meal with them, bu
t it was unusual for someone to come by the ranch.
Maybe someone was in the midst of a crisis. His curiosity ramped as he swung the door wide-open.
“Dad!”
“Took you long enough.” The white-haired, sixtyish man with a deeply lined face and skin wrinkled beyond his years stumbled past Shawn and into the house without waiting for an invitation. “Sh-pected you’d be happy to see me, at least.”
Shawn’s stomach tumbled and he sent a horrified glance toward the kitchen, where Heather sat waiting for his return. Noelle was with her. The kids were playing in the backyard. This had the makings of an all-out catastrophe.
Dad’s timing could not have been worse. What could he do with him to keep him from causing an unnecessary and very likely excruciating ruckus?
Shawn had been anticipating—and dreading—this confrontation with his father for a long time, but he’d never in a million years imagined circumstances like these. His father’s health had been heavy on Shawn’s heart for a while now, but he’d expected, or at least hoped, that he would be able to deal with this outside the watchful eyes of Serendipity.
And Heather—if she were to encounter his father…
Shawn didn’t even want to know.
He took his father’s shoulders and guided him toward the hallway. Maybe if he could get Dad into a back bedroom the situation would resolve itself. As soon as his father saw a bed, Shawn knew he would pass out within minutes.
“Shawn?” He heard Heather’s curious voice coming from behind him and pressed harder on his father’s back.
A few more feet and he could breathe easy.
He didn’t anticipate his father’s next move. Kenneth O’Riley planted his feet and then spun around, slipping under Shawn’s grasp and staggering back toward the living room. “Didn’t tell me you had company,” his father cackled. “Of the female per-shway-shun.”
Shawn cringed at the sound of his father’s slurred words. He couldn’t imagine how this episode would affect Heather—and just as he’d believed she was beginning to trust him.
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