* * * *
Swallowing the increasing knot in her throat, Hope turned from Caleb and snuggled the dog that leapt into her lap.
It was true.
Long and steep, with a landing on the foyer’s hard marble tile, those stairs were no joke. She’d prayed to God to save her and she would be dead—or at least seriously injured—if not for that crutch.
Had God saved her?
Indeed.
The bigger question was, why now? Why today? She’d prayed—and desperately—many, many times before. Did He answer?
No.
No, He didn’t. Never.
Still, tonight she was alive. Mostly okay. And if she were honest with herself, she prayed during the accident as well, coming out of that in one piece.
So obviously God wanted her alive. For what? To torture her some more?
I know the plans I have for you…
Blowing her nose one last time, Hope glanced at Caleb cautiously. “I suppose you think I should pray.”
“I’d pray with you. For you, if you’d like.” He sat down next to her, offering a hand. “Whatta say?”
Staring at the large, worn calloused hand he offered her, Hope’s mouth went dry. How she yearned to take it, to turn aside all her anger. Mostly, for the core of her to feel warm and right once again.
So long she’d been plagued by such an awful ache. Unfillable.
But a stronger emotion took precedence. Doubt. Uncertainty.
The next time she prayed, would He be there? Would He answer?
Who knew? “I suppose you’re convinced Neil did this,” she changed the subject, filled with an empty throbbing as she tucked her hands under arm. “That it was him here tonight.”
Ignoring the statement, he lowered his head and was silent for several seconds. Then, solemnly, he rose on towering legs, making her feel small and ashamed in the wake of his strength and faith as he went to fetch her crutches. “We should get you to the medical center to be checked out.”
In his voice disappointment reverberated.
What had he expected, that she’d leap on the God wagon clapping His praise?
If only she could be like Caleb, resilient and believing. Look at the scars mottling his flesh. The proof of pain.
Why could he pray and not she? Why could he forgive…and not she?
“I’m fine.” She sounded as if she’d swallowed sandpaper. “I don’t think I’ll be going to sleep anytime soon but I don’t need a doctor.”
“You sure? You said you passed out.”
“From fear, not a head injury. I’m okay.” Her lips stretched into a weak semblance of a smile. What she needed, Hope acknowledged somewhere inside herself, was a friend. “So, you up for some midnight Mousetrap?”
“Rain check, Hope.” Hand streaking through his hair, he appeared truly sorry to turn her down. “Even if you’re feeling okay, a crime has been committed here tonight. I’m calling Noah in.”
Chapter Nine
Hope was certain sleep was as likely as snow on the fourth of July, so she was disorientated to find herself awakening in the shadowy dawn to crisp, speculative voices. Nestled on the couch, swathed in baby blue sweats and her mother’s afghan, she turned over to greet the morning rays streaking across the hardwood floor.
A new day. Yet as if yesterday had never ended, Noah McBryde and his deputies were still present. They’d questioned her about the attack, warning another more in-depth interview was yet to come, then set about running a fine tooth comb over her home and property. No doubt, considering Caleb’s relationship to Noah, she was receiving special—thorough—treatment.
The slam of the backdoor and ensuing thump-slide thump-slide of Caleb approaching brought Hope to sitting, attempting to quickly smooth her disheveled hair into place.
Hands shoved in his pockets, he paused in the threshold of the room. Sometime between his calling Noah and now, he’d found himself both a shirt and jacket but no amount of fabric could erase the memory of those scars from her mind. “You’re awake.”
The tension in his voice, his stressed stance, cut through the room’s energy.
“Are they leaving?”
“Noah figured on catching some zzz’s then returning to ask further questions.”
That hanging in the air, he slowly crossed the room and sat at the end of the couch, his solid frame tilting the cushions.
“We cast some tire tracks left in the mud but Noah found nothing in the way of finger prints. Not even a partial. No sign of forced entry either.”
“I was distracted. Maybe I forgot to lock the door?”
With a ragged sigh, he leaned forward, hands knotted and elbows resting on the worn fabric of his jeans.
“The mechanic called Noah last evening. Turns out, he was headed over in morning to talk with you anyway.” He turned his head her direction but didn’t quite look at her. “Your brakes were definitely tampered with. Your accident now points to foul play.”
Foul play? Disbelief wrenched in Hope. “Noah inspected my car. He said the lines weren’t cut. He said…”
Her throat closed around her words, dry as the desert.
All her doubts had hinged upon Noah’s findings as fact. With that erased…could it be? As she recalled that last fateful conversation she’d overheard, Hope reeled with the possibilities.
Was Neil attempting to hurt her?
“There’s more than one way to corrupt a vehicle’s braking system. In your case, a couple of tiny, inconspicuous holes were punched into the lines, causing the fluid to slowly leak. Once the pressure gave, so you did your brakes.”
Hope swallowed the truth with quiet disbelief. “Someone is trying to hurt me.”
“Kill you,” his voice slammed with finality, as if the gavel had come down. Sentenced. Life as she knew it was no longer safe.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Ah, Hope…I wish I knew.” With those tender summer sky eyes—eyes that seemed to touch her soul with his genuine concern—he looked to her for the answer. “I only want to help you.”
“I know.” Hope thought she might be sick. “I just never thought…”
Feeling as if her world was spinning out of control, she threw her head back against the couch. She couldn’t deny or reason away her suspicions any longer.
Couldn’t hide behind her pride, no matter how much some things hurt to admit.
Tucking her hands in her sleeves, wishing she could hide, she finally spoke the words out loud. “She’s worth more to me dead than alive.” Her voice rasped the quote. An empty, awkward pause followed. “For the record, I’m worth this ranch and fifty-seven grand and not much more.”
Flames rose to her face, licking through her body. She would rather have told anyone in the world that but Caleb and yet, she’d needed him to be her confidant, no one else.
She just hated to disappoint him, as she’d so often disappointed her father.
What would Caleb think of her, knowing she’d lived with a man who had not loved her? That she’d so foolishly fallen prey?
Hope only knew what she thought of herself. And it wasn’t much.
His hand claimed hers, enveloping her in the calloused strength and warmth. “Talk to me.” Tender was his urging, filled with compassion. “Tell me everything.”
His fingers tangled with hers, squeezing. Providing Hope the encouragement she needed to go on.
No matter what he thought of her in the end, he’d be kind. Protect her. She could count on that, at least.
And so she spilled the whole sordid tale. How Neil had swept her off her feet. The fool she’d been, the bad decisions she’d made. Ultimately, the conversation she’d overheard. Caleb listened with respect, never interrupting to point out how wrong—how stupid—she’d been.
Oh, but oh Hope knew it to the core of her. She’d been more of an idiot when it came to Neil Vandermonde than some sixteen-year old twittering in front of her first crush. “I just wish I wouldn’t have been so blind. Ever
ything he told me, I wanted to believe, even when it sounded off. When deep down, I knew something was wrong.”
Silently, Caleb embraced her hand and paid sincere attention. She went on to share how the big, beautiful ring Neil had placed on her finger had never belonged to her. Those cold words he’d uttered, promising to get the other woman he truly loved everything she wanted, while the knife in Hope’s back had twisted painfully.
When she’d exhausted herself of the details, she braced herself for the chastisement sure to follow. Tried to push down the knot blocking her throat and gather backbone.
Instead, Caleb released her hand, looped his arm about her shoulder and drew her into a tight hug. “Ah, sweetheart, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
Her face found the softness of his cotton t-shirt, hard muscles beneath, as his hand stroked her arm, soothing. Holding. Caring.
“For the record,” he stressed. “You are worth far more than a scum bag scam artist like Neil Vandermonde could ever appreciate.”
Those words of praise were the last thing she expected. Everything she needed. “I…thank you.”
“Don’t blame yourself Hope. I can tell by the way you talk you do. But Neil’s the one at fault, not you. And I’m going to make sure he pays.”
Oh, the irony of such a threat. “I just wish…”
“Wishes can’t go backward, sweetheart.” How smooth, sure, his advice poured over her. “Just remember, nobody’s perfect.”
“My mom was. My dad too.” The response slipped out, raw and bitter. “Never committed a wrong in their life.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“I’m sure it is. Neither of them ever drank or smoked. They were in church every Sunday. They waited until after marriage to…you know.” Her face flamed hot at the mention. “Perfect Christians, all their lives.”
How they’d wanted a daughter to follow in their footsteps. To be a model follower in Jesus.
And how she’d failed them.
“Mom would’ve been so disappointed in me.”
The Lord surely was. Even if she wanted to return to Him, it wasn’t as if she could erase the past. How could she ever truly be in His favor again?
“Hope…” His hand stilled on her shoulder. “Come on, how do you know that?”
“Mom brought me up me better. Taught me right from wrong.”
“No. How do you know your parents were so perfect?”
“I…just do.” Filled with surety, she looked away.
“I wholly doubt it.” The hand stroking her shoulder lifted to her chin, tilting her face to greet his. Refusing to allow her to look away. “I’m going to tell you what I know. The best Christians, those closest to God, are frequently the worst sinners redeemed. Don’t let this Neil jerk hold you down.”
“I can’t…” She couldn’t what? Move on? Forgive?
“Upon weakness builds strength; hard times, resolve. My Pa always told us boys to use pain as fuel.”
Something in her pricked, igniting. Setting Hope off balance.
Is that how he managed to still hold his shoulders so square? To pray, regardless of the damage done in his life? Oh, how those scars were in her mind every time she thought of the emotional pain she’d suffered.
Nothing compared to what Caleb had endured. Nothing.
Five minutes ago, she’d known exactly what she thought. Of herself. Of life. Of God.
Now…
Swallowing, she bumped his hand aside and looked away, deciding it was high time their conversation got back on subject. “I still don’t understand why Neil would want to hurt me. What’s in it for him?”
Returning his hand to her shoulder comfortingly, Caleb was quiet a moment before he answered. She could feel his gaze studying her. Wondering.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “I think you made a good point about his reputation. By now, he has to suspect you figured him out. Fears you’ll out him and blow his cover as a rich heir and his world will blow up in his face.”
“That’s a crappy motive to kill someone.”
“Is there ever a good one?” The edge of his voice could cut glass. “I suppose that’s all of it? No details you’ve left out?”
“That’s all.”
The ending of their conversation made her feel vulnerable, alone again and as if he could sense the heightening fear and confusion climbing in her, he tightened his comforting embrace even more, holding her against the steel of his chest. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured into her hair. “Trust me on that.”
Trust.
“Can you, Hope? Trust me to be your friend?”
“I do,” she found herself agreeing in a quiet voice. She didn’t know why—warning bells clanged she shouldn’t—but instinct overpowered doubt.
“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page now.”
“Me too.” Nothing had ever felt more therapeutic than the wrap and safety of his arms. “Caleb, will you hold me just a minute longer?”
“As long as you need.” As she anticipated he might, he gathered her hand, entwined it in hers and prayed out loud, asking God to protect her and give them strength.
Unlike prior instances, when Hope had wanted to pull away, she found herself complacent. Didn’t pray herself—couldn’t—but under Caleb’s confident, joyous words of faith, an alien warmth curled through her.
Afterward, she was left in silence—and Caleb’s arms—to contemplate the way he spoke with God. Even joked. Not as though he was associating with a lord and master…but a true friend. A comrade.
Several minutes later, contemplative amidst the peacefulness draping over them like a cozy blanket, she had to smile at the snort and guffaw he emanated. Snoring.
Not that she could blame the poor man—unlike her, he’d barely slept a wink all night.
Not quite ready to leave his side, Hope drew the afghan up around both of their bodies.
* * * *
Sometimes, when I need to feel God the most, I row out here. Just sit awhile, under the sunshine.
The advice nagged at Hope. Words that’d taken hold and wouldn’t let go.
Her muscles ached with the need to stand and stretch. Her body screamed the need to relieve herself.
Yet convincing herself to abandon the couch—Caleb—was akin to dragging herself out of bed on a cold and rainy morning.
She was too warm. Too comfy and cozy. Too right at home snuggled up against him.
Boldly lifting her fingers, she memorized the angles and features of his face. Strong, defined jaw line, shadowed in golden whiskers that’d grown even thicker since their first meeting, revealing a hint of silver as if evidence of his sage personality. Aquiline nose, clearly once broken. The scars, still purple with youth, while the rest of his skin was tanned and worn from many years in the sun.
A man who appeared at first glance almost harsh. Yet was undoubtedly the kindest she’d met. Completely amazing.
Never had she admired a man more. Not even her father. Certainly not Neil, who couldn’t hold a candle with his handsome outer shell and ugly insides.
Caleb stirred something entirely different in her. A heartfelt yearning.
Like her father, he was strong. Grounded. Unshakable.
Faithful.
But not disapproving. Never shoving bible quotes down her throat.
Again, Caleb’s words reached out to her. You ever have a place where you can just feel God, Hope?
Unable to suppress the beckoning from deep within, she lifted Caleb’s heavy arm from her shoulder, tucked him snuggly beneath the red and orange blanket and rose from the couch. She needed to know. To try.
Would God be out there, waiting to pour his light down upon her as He did Caleb?
Maybe. Maybe she didn’t know what to think anymore.
Her ankle felt considerably better as she utilized the wall to limp up the stairs. After using the bathroom she dressed, taking, she had to admit, longer than usual to pour through her closet before f
inally selecting a breezy skirt and top.
Now for her impossible hair. With her curls, the only right way to style it was while wet, so she dumped her head in the sink, soaked it then towel-dried it thoroughly, lastly picking through the knots.
As she moved to apply mascara, she realized the woman she was about to primp herself into was a stranger. A lost, confused stranger.
Had been for a long time.
She left her makeup off. Years ago, she hadn’t touched the stuff. Hadn’t needed it. But Neil had insisted upon her always looking her best. Especially that she cover the small scar on the side of her neck—a burn from an accident trying to iron her hair, barely an inch.
Was the mark really so noticeable? If Caleb could boast so many scars without shame, why should she hide this tiny one?
Perhaps this was her best. Hair down, curls loose. All natural.
Minutes later, balanced on her crutches, she scissored down the trail toward the lake. The scent of roses delighted her nose, the breeze playing in her hair. She inhaled as if there weren’t enough air in the world, yearning to feel God, His love. For a renewing of her soul. To encounter whatever it was Caleb possessed, so admirable and mighty.
The dock clunked against the heels of her crutches as she found the edge fifteen-feet out, momentarily considering taking the boat on the water.
Right. Given her ordeal two days ago, that’d be smart.
With a sigh, she tugged off her sandals and positioned herself with feet dangling a hair above the rippling gray-blue water.
The day proved magnificent. Cloudless, sunny and completely oblivious to her personal problems. Hope closed her eyes, laid back and relaxed under baking rays.
The swish of water greeted her toes, cold and crisp, as the music of a robin tickled her ears and laughter tinkled from the beach afar. Bursts of gentle breezes wisped over her skin delightfully.
Was this was Caleb referred to?
It felt wonderful and tranquil, sure. But…where was God?
You up there and wanna talk?
Maybe, just maybe, she’d be willing to call a truce. After all, he had saved her and maybe she should be more thankful.
But God, I don’t understand…
Accident Waiting to Happen Page 10