“Read those if you want the truth,” he barked. Then, taking the pamphlet about Mary, he opened it up and ripped it down the center, letting the pieces fall on the floor. “Then end it, Rebecca, before it’s too late.”
***
Something was bothering Rebecca, but so far she hadn’t said what. For the past few days she’d seemed reticent. She talked to Chris, laughed with him, even flirted with him, but her heart wasn’t engaged. This evening as they’d walked around City Island, past the mini golf, the baseball field, and the kids’ train, she’d been unusually quiet, her mind elsewhere.
She walked toward him from the restroom, drying her hands on her shorts the whole way. He admired her top, a sort of frilly blouse that was cut to fit a woman’s body. Now that he thought about it, she’d been wearing more of that kind of thing lately. Her clothes were still modest, but they were more fashionable and accentuated her curves more than the subdued, shapeless clothes she had worn when they first met.
“Yuck. This weather and public restrooms don’t mix.” She was right. They had endured a week-long streak of hot and humid days. That’s why he had suggested they stop and have a snow cone before leaving. Rebecca ordered a blue raspberry, and Chris chose root beer.
Only one picnic table was vacant—the one closest to the trash. They sat at the end farthest from the offensive container. Chris finished his snow cone first and dropped the paper wrapper into the can. Several bees buzzed around the receptacle. He swatted at one as it tried to land on his forearm. The persistent bug circled around and came back, determined to land. Chris swatted again and twisted away from the can. He slammed right into Rebecca as she threw away her cone and napkins.
“Ouch!”
“I’m sorry. It’s that darn bee. I’m trying to get away from it.”
“Yeah, well, I think it stung me.” She held her hand over her upper arm.
“Are you allergic?”
“No, but it sure hurts.”
“Let me see.” He lifted her hand revealing a red, swollen blotch. “The stinger’s stuck. Hold still.” He pinched the stinger, pulled it out, and showed it to her. “Nasty little thing.”
“You’re telling me. I never had one hurt like this.”
Chris’s eyes darted left and right as he looked for something to ease her pain. “I’ll get a little ice from the snow cone vendor.” In a couple of minutes, he had a small cup of shaved ice to put over her sting.
“I just remembered I’ve got some kind of sting wipes in my purse. Abby gave me some to keep on hand for when I’m out with Ricky and Emma. It’s in the inside pocket of my purse. Can you get it?”
“Sure.” He handed her the ice, and they sat back down at the table. He rummaged through her purse pushing aside tissues, lip gloss, and her change purse until he found the little packet labeled “Sting Relief Wipe.” He tore open the packaging with his teeth, unfolded the wipe and handed it to Rebecca.
She laid it over her sting and sighed. “Feels better already. Thank you.”
Chris couldn’t get over how much it bothered him when she hurt. Could he sign up for a whole lifetime of this? Absolutely, he could. It was crazy, but to get to be with her all the time would be worth it.
Now that she was feeling better, he started to gather the contents of her purse and put them back inside. He grabbed a handful of small pamphlets. They were plain on the back, and he flipped them over to see the covers. The one on top was called, “Are Roman Catholics Christians?” and had a picture of a rosary. The one beneath was called “Why is Mary Crying?” and showed a weeping statue. The third and final one was called “The Death Cookie” and featured what looked like a small, round wafer with skull and crossbones imprinted on it. He flipped through this last one, his gaze running over the black and white comic strip images. His eyes caught on words here and there: “idolatry,” “religious con job,” “hocus pocus.”
A sick feeling grew in the pit of his stomach.
Rebecca held the wipe to her arm, but her face was ashen. “I-I, uh—”
“Where did you get these?”
Her eyes grew watery and her lower lip quivered. He hoped she wouldn’t cry. He was angry, and if she were going to go all weepy on him, they wouldn’t be able to have this conversation. And they needed to have this conversation.
“My dad. When you dropped me off at my car on Sunday, I stopped in to make sure he was okay. I didn’t stay long, maybe ten minutes. He said he was grateful for what you had done for him, but he could never approve of my being with you, and he shoved those into my purse.”
He sensed there was probably a little more to the story than that. “Have you read them?”
She nodded. “Yes. I read them the next day. I thought I should know why he’s so against us.”
“Me, you mean. He’s against me.” He held the tracts up, waving them. “Do you believe this stuff? Do you think this is what I believe—that priests, that Father John, has magical powers and that we bow down and worship little wafers? Is this what you saw when you came to Mass with me? What you read in the books I lent you? You knelt with me on Sunday, Rebecca, I thought…I don’t know what I thought.”
She lifted her hand from her arm and transferred the wipe to the other hand. Palm up, she reached her free hand out across the table, waiting for him to take it.
He hesitated, but then couldn’t resist.
“Chris, those pamphlets are hateful. You have to know I don’t feel that way about you. Or Father John. I wanted to know what my dad thought. I’ll admit I don’t understand it all yet, what you believe and how you worship, but believe me when I tell you I liked being at Mass with you on Sunday. I felt, I don’t know, at home. I started to see a rhythm to what was going on.”
She seemed sincere. Thank God she held the tears at bay.
“Why did you keep these?”
“I don’t know. I…I guess my gut tells me that stuff isn’t true, but I’m not sure how to refute it. I don’t know everything you do. And I….”
She was having trouble getting this part out. This must have been what had been bothering her these last few days. “You what?
She let out a breath. “I have doubts, okay? Isn’t there maybe a grain of truth in there?” She gestured toward the tract still in his hand.
He threw them on the table with more force than was necessary and let go of her hand.
“So you think these are right? They’re crude and mean-spirited maybe, but they’re right? Do you think your dad’s right about me, too? About us?”
Now the tears fell, and it was his fault. In his anger and defensiveness, he’d made her cry. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.” She wiped her eyes and glanced about, obviously conscious they were in a public place.
Clambering to his feet, he blew out a breath. He’d handled this poorly. “Rebecca, there’s nothing wrong with you having questions. I went through all kinds of doubts when I was trying to figure out where I belonged, spiritually-speaking. I’m not threatened by you looking at these. I think they’re trash, and it doesn’t do much for my opinion of your dad, but I guess you owe him at least as much consideration as you do me.”
He moved to her side of the table and straddled the bench, facing her. He pulled her towards him. “I love you,” he whispered against her hair. “I only wish you had brought these to me instead of me finding them like this. It caught me off guard. I felt like I was being ambushed. I’m sorry I got defensive.”
She sniffed and dabbed at the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry, too. You’re right. I should’ve told you about them and asked you to help me understand why they’re wrong.”
“We can do that if you want. Go through them one by one and look at what’s true and what’s not. It would be good for me, too. I don’t want to worry about that now though.” He lifted her chin. “I want to enjoy the rest of the evening with you, okay?”
“Okay.” The tears had stopped. Gosh, she was beautiful. Her brown eyes shuttered closed as he kissed her
lips. Then he pulled back. “How can I have an argument with you when you have those ridiculous blue lips?”
She slipped a hand over her mouth. “I forgot. How bad is it?”
“Oh, it’s bad. Let’s see if we can get it to wear off faster.” Her hand fell and one side of her mouth rose in a grin before he smothered it with another kiss.
***
Thank God it’s Friday. Truer words were never spoken as far as Chris was concerned. It had been a long week fraught with unexpected problems. Problems with people, machinery, and just about everything else. He had a two-day reprieve, and this evening he had a date with Rebecca. If anything or anyone could make him forget about his lousy week, it was her. Just the thought of her had him smiling as he tugged at his necktie, loosening it so it hung around his collar.
He unbuttoned his wrinkled white dress shirt with one hand while he opened the refrigerator with the other. He pushed aside the milk and the juice, and then crouched to move a bag of wilted lettuce and some mysterious leftovers.
I work in a brewery, and I don’t have a single beer in this place? He discovered a lone bottle on the door’s bottom shelf. Not the best place for a beer, but it was all he had. He grabbed the bottle opener from the counter, opened it, and took a long drink as he fished the tails of his shirt out of his pants.
A knock sounded. He didn’t expect Rebecca for another hour.
Despite his surprise, a smile broke free when he saw Rebecca standing on the other side of his door. “Hey, I thought you were coming at seven o’clock.” He stepped back to let her in, and she walked into the kitchen, waiting for him to join her. Her eyes darted to his open bedroom door. Thank goodness he had made the bed this morning.
They had planned on a casual dinner and a movie, but it didn’t look like she had changed her clothes after work. How could she? There wouldn’t have been time. She wore a long crinkled skirt that reached her ankles and a snug-fitting tee with a silver bangle belt. She twisted her fingers and let her left ankle tilt, the low-heeled shoe falling on its side. Rebecca seemed almost nervous to him.
“I didn’t want to wait to see you,” she said in a rush.
He smiled and took her hand in his. Her palm seemed a little sweaty, and he wondered what had made her so anxious that she rushed to seem him straight from work.
“Rough day?”
She shook her head, and her gaze locked onto the half-empty bottle of beer still in his hand. “Do you have another one of those?”
He lifted the bottle and glanced at it, holding it up. “This? I didn’t think you liked beer.”
“I haven’t given it a fair try. It looks good to me today.”
He turned his head slightly and narrowed his eye at her. “Really? This is all I’ve got, but the rest is yours if you want it.”
She took it, and her hand shook a little as she raised it to her lips. “Mmm.”
He laughed.
She wrinkled her brow and glared at him. “What?”
“You’re a horrible actress. You can say, ‘mmm’ all you want, but that look on your face tells me you haven’t acquired a taste for beer yet.”
“I guess not.” Despite her admission, she proceeded to take another swig. What on earth was going on?
“So, not that I’m not happy to see you, but do you want to tell me why you’re here straight from work chugging a half-drunk beer you don’t like?”
Her gaze met his for a half second, and then she turned and walked into his living area. “I wanted to see you. To be with you.” Her voice dropped until it was low and husky, but still unsure. “Alone.”
She set the empty beer bottle on his end table and turned back to him. While her hands still twisted with nervousness, clear affection sparkled in her eyes. She stepped toward him and pressed her hands against his chest. He had forgotten until he felt her hands through the thin cotton of his undershirt that he had been about to get undressed when she arrived.
She tilted her head up to him, and he happily obliged her with what she sought. He let his hands fall to her waist and leaned down to kiss her. Even though it ran contrary to everything he felt, he kissed her as he always did with a gentle ease. When he touched her lips, the pressure he felt returned was anything but gentle. It was hard, greedy, demanding, and wholly unlike Rebecca.
Sweet mother of mercy! She pulled at his shirt, yanking the tails out where they remained trapped by his belt. It sent a thrill through him that had him returning her kiss with an equal amount of intensity, but it also set off a silent alarm. Something about this whole situation wasn’t right.
He had almost convinced himself to back off from the kiss when he felt her hands at his waist struggling with his belt buckle. He pulled away, grasping her wrists tight in his hands and pushing them away from his pants. He let out a breathy moan before he took a small step backward and said, “Whoa. As much as I’m enjoying this—and God help me, I’m enjoying this—I’m not daft enough to think you were suddenly overcome by your passion for me and drove over here to seduce me. So, what’s this about?”
“You know how I feel about you.” He could tell she was off script now. She had planned on him succumbing to her unspoken offer and wasn’t prepared to answer his question. If she was nervous before, she bordered on panic now. Her breaths came quick and rapid, and he couldn’t attribute it all to their kiss.
“Well, Rebecca, I think I do, although you haven’t really told me.” Heck, if she wanted to get in his pants, she should at least be prepared to tell him she loved him. He could see already by the way she looked at anything in the room but him that he wasn’t going to hear it now. He couldn’t for the life of him figure what had turned his demure beauty into a brazen temptress, but he knew now why she wanted that beer.
“Maybe not in so many words, but—”
“Words are good, Rebecca.” He loosened his hands on her wrists and slid them along her palms until they were holding hands. He waited for her response, but she turned it back on him.
“You say you love me. Don’t you want me?”
She had to be kidding. I want you so badly I can’t sleep at night or think straight all day. He wasn’t about to say that out loud, not when she would use it to justify doing something rash and foolish.
“I do love you, but this isn’t about how I feel about you. I get going too far in the heat of the moment. I pull myself back from that ledge every time I kiss you, but this is premeditated. You want to use me for something, and I’d like to know why.”
That stopped her, like she hadn’t considered this wasn’t what he wanted. When she didn’t respond, he cocked an eyebrow in question.
It took a full five seconds, but her whole veneer collapsed as if she finally realized that she had in fact been using him to suit her own purpose.
“I’m so sorry.” She clapped her hand to her mouth. Her eyes took on a wet, shiny appearance that soon left tears rolling down her cheeks.
Her tears caused an ache in his heart, and he pulled her to him. “Shhh. It’s okay.”
She cried into his shirt for a minute or two before she lifted her head. “I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course, but you still haven’t told me what this is about.” She stilled as he stroked her hair, but she acted as if he hadn’t even spoken.
“I didn’t think of it that way. I was so selfish.”
His heart still pounded from that kiss, and the way she looked so broken and vulnerable tempted him to kiss her again.
“If you give me a minute I’ll get changed, and we can go get something to eat and talk through this. Just sit tight.”
He headed to his bedroom, and closed the door behind him. With a couple breaths, he tried to stop thinking about that kiss and where it would’ve gone if he would’ve let it happen. He changed his clothes, then glanced in the mirror as he ran his fingers through his hair. When he opened the door, Rebecca stood with her back to him. By the way her slim shoulders shook, he knew that she was crying.
; He came up behind her and cleared his throat to make sure she knew he was there before he folded her into his arms. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Tears choked her words. She turned to face him, and her eyes were red-rimmed and teary. “I’ve made a complete fool of myself.”
“What are you talking about?” He could see where she would feel bad about it, but he couldn’t understand what would make her feel foolish.
“I threw myself at you, and…and…” The tears came in heavy waves now. “And I’m such an idiot. You don’t even want me. No one ever has, and no one ever will.”
At first she resisted, but then she let him pull her into his arms so that she could relax against his chest. “You think I don’t want you?”
She didn’t answer.
“Rebecca, why do you think I had to leave this room? Why do you think I suggested we go out? Because I do want you, and while I like to think I have a fair amount of self-control, I have limits. And I really don’t want to test them tonight.” Her gaze dropped to her feet, and he took her hand again. “You ready?”
Breathing deeply, her eyes finally met his. “I have some clothes in the car. Do you mind if I change?”
“Of course not.”
She retrieved her clothes from the car and changed into shorts and a shirt in Chris’s bathroom.
Chris didn’t like the unnatural silence, but he figured they could wait until they got to the restaurant to sort things out. The little sandwich shop in town would be perfect—large enough to afford them some privacy but busy enough to keep the drama to a minimum. It had the added advantage of being devoid of comfy horizontal surfaces. Considering how he still didn’t know if he deserved a pat on the back or a kick in the rear for putting a stop to her advances, that was a plus.
They ordered soup, sandwiches, and iced teas, and the waitress brought the order to their table in the corner. Chris said the blessing, and they ate—or in Rebecca’s case, picked more than ate.
Stay With Me Page 20