by Irene Hannon
And as her mouth stirred beneath his, responding to his touch, he knew this moment, fragile as a butterfly’s wing, would live forever in his memory.
When he at last drew back, her face still cupped in his hands, she was trembling again.
So was he.
Brushing a wisp of hair away from her forehead, he took one of her hands in his. He didn’t intend to ruin the moment by talking about it. Or apologizing. Or saying things she might not be ready to hear. It was better to leave now. Give them both a chance to regroup. To process what had just happened.
Clearing the huskiness from his throat, he gave her hand a squeeze. “I need to head out. I’ve got another customer expecting me in twenty minutes. Will you be okay?”
“Yes.” Her whispered response was barely there, her eyes big as she regarded him.
He stood. “Call me if you need anything.”
She nodded.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Another silent nod.
Lifting a hand in farewell, he pushed through the door, strode toward his bike and took off down the dirt road—all the while trying to assess Catherine’s reaction to the kiss.
Surely she’d been as surprised by it as he’d been. Yet she hadn’t pushed him away. Nor had she fired him again.
But where did they go from here? Would she think of his kiss as nothing more than a compassionate gesture? His way of comforting her after a nasty scare? Or would she see it for what it was—a desire to take their relationship to another level?
Nathan didn’t know. But he hoped—and prayed—she would find a way to get past the parallels between him and the man who’d taken the life of her husband. To look into his heart and see the goodness he had to offer.
Yet luck had been elusive in his life. Although her acceptance of his kiss had been a positive sign, after a good night’s sleep she might very well regret their little interlude and send him packing.
As if to verify that conclusion, rain began to fall from the clouds that had gathered during the past hour. Meaning long before he got back to town, he’d be hosed.
If he wasn’t already.
Chapter Ten
This is ridiculous.
Bunching the sheet in her fists, Catherine expelled a frustrated breath and checked the clock atop her nightstand. Three-thirty. At this rate, she’d be lucky to get two hours of shut-eye tonight.
All because of a kiss that still lingered on her lips…and a whispered endearment.
No one had ever called her sweetheart.
Resigned to her sleepless state, she tossed the covers aside and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Maybe more housework would help tire her out. She’d been using her toes as an excuse to delay those kind of chores, but the swelling and bruising had faded. In another two weeks, she could ditch the hiking boots and go back to wearing regular shoes.
After pulling on jeans and a sweatshirt, she headed downstairs, determined to take control of her thoughts—and emotions. Laundry first, she decided, veering toward the washer and dryer.
But her plan was foiled within two minutes. For as she sorted through the garments, her hands stilled on an article that had been missing from her clothes basket for two years.
A man’s handkerchief.
Damp with tears.
Hers.
Catherine closed her eyes.
It was no use. Since their kiss twelve hours ago, she’d tried every trick in the book to put Nathan out of her mind. She’d scrubbed the bathrooms, pulled weeds from around the hydrangea bushes in front, cooked dinner, read Zach stories. Anything to keep from facing the disturbing questions and impulses generated by that brief moment of affection.
Had she been wise, she’d have pushed him away when he leaned toward her. She’d have refused to let herself be swayed by those appealing, warm brown eyes. But, no. She’d not only let him kiss her, she’d kissed him back.
She could try attributing that lapse in judgment to her distress over Zach and her heightened emotions after his fall.
Except that was a lie.
She’d let Nathan kiss her for one simple reason.
She’d wanted to be kissed.
And she’d liked it.
Just as she’d liked it when he’d called her sweetheart.
Tossing his handkerchief into the washer, she spotted the Atlanta Braves jersey he’d worn the day of the spaghetti incident. It had been sitting in her laundry room ever since.
Somehow it had never made it into the wash.
Slowly she leaned over and picked it up. Lifted the fabric close to her face. Inhaled the scent that was equal parts honest physical labor and powerful masculinity.
The scent that was all Nathan.
She should know, after getting an up close and personal whiff of it just twelve hours ago.
And Lord help her, she wanted more.
Setting aside the jersey, she closed the lid on the washer and twisted the dial. Then she wandered into the kitchen, made herself a cup of tea, sat at the kitchen table…and faced the truth.
She was falling for a man who represented everything she hated.
Or did he?
For despite the labels society might put on Nathan—troublemaker, delinquent, armed robber, ex-con—he didn’t fit her criminal stereotype. Nathan Clay was living proof people could change. Whatever his past, he’d become a compassionate, caring man who’d treated her and Zach with nothing but kindness and empathy and consideration.
That was the reason she’d kissed him back. Not because she was distraught or lonely or needed comforting. But because she was attracted to him—for all the right reasons.
And that was the crux of her problem. If she accepted that Nathan was a man worth loving; that he’d effected a radical transformation in his life; that his past was less important than his present—how did she know the same wasn’t true for Dale Nelson?
Yet could she let go of her hate? Could she forgive the man who had destroyed her world if he, too, had changed and come to regret what he’d done? And what if he hadn’t? Absent his remorse, could she still dredge up forgiveness, find it in her heart to ask the Lord to show him mercy?
All these months, she’d held on to her hate, using it to keep sorrow at bay. She’d been afraid to face her grief, fearing that if she gave into it, it would consume her and leave her spent and empty and shattered. But yesterday, in Nathan’s arms, she’d let a lot of it go. And she felt okay. Better, even. Precisely because Nathan’s strong, comforting arms had been ready to catch her if she started to fall toward the yawning abyss of inconsolable sorrow.
As for Dale Nelson…she needed to think that through. Pray about it, perhaps. For just as Nathan had found his future only by letting go of his unhappy past, she had a feeling the same was true for her.
But there was another piece of her past she had to leave behind, as well, she realized with a pang. A happy part.
It was time to say goodbye to David, too. To let him go. To know that while every memory they’d shared, every moment of their years together, would always be precious to her, it was okay to love someone else. To let another man claim a piece of her heart in his own special, unique way that would take nothing away from the love that had belonged only to her and David.
Rising, Catherine tossed her spent tea bag in the trash.
For the past two years, she’d been living in the past, focused on making it through each new day.
Maybe now it was time to think about the future.
“Mom! I can do it myself!”
At Zach’s frustrated protest, Nathan looked toward the little boy. Catherine had been hovering over her son all day, never letting him more than a few feet from her sight, stepping in whenever he needed help, constantly warning him to be careful.
Yesterday’s scare had obviously unnerved her. He knew her actions reflected her deep love for her son, but her excessive attention was only annoying Zach.
She’d even cut his sandwich into bite-size pieces at
lunch, much to Zach’s disgust.
“He does a good job collecting all the tools, Catherine. And I don’t leave any of the dangerous ones lying around.” Nathan kept his tone mild, purging any hint of criticism. He’d been treading carefully since he’d arrived this morning. While she hadn’t mentioned their kiss, she’d been avoiding eye contact. Not a good sign.
She shot him a quick glance. “The hammer’s heavy. He might drop it on his foot.”
“Oh, Mom!” Zach huffed out a breath. “Just because you dropped a paint can on your toes doesn’t mean I’m going to drop a hammer. Besides, it’s not heavy enough to break anything. And I have shoes on.”
A flush crept up her neck as the phone in the main house began to ring.
“I’ll keep an eye on Zach if you want to get that,” Nathan offered.
She hesitated a second, then turned on her heel and exited.
“Sheesh.” Zach gave Nathan a put-upon look and rolled his eyes. “Mom’s all over me today. Worse than usual.”
Nathan snapped the toolbox closed and brushed off his hands, taking a quick survey of the room, now finished except for the flooring. “That’s because she loves you, champ. She got scared yesterday when you fell.”
“Yeah.” Zach stood and brushed his hands off, too. “She gets scared a lot. I bet she wouldn’t be so nervous if my dad was still here.” He sighed and scuffed the toe of his sport shoe on the subfloor. “I wish I had a dad again.”
“Maybe you will, someday.”
“Yeah?” Zach gave him a hopeful look. “How would I get one?”
“Well, if your mom found someone else to love, like she loved your dad, maybe she’d marry him. Then you’d have a new dad.”
Narrowing his eyes, Zach sized him up. “Are you married, Nathan?”
Uh-oh. He should have seen that coming.
“No. And I’m too busy to think about that right now.” He flipped off the light in the bathroom, dropped a hand to the boy’s shoulder and tried to change the subject. “Next week we’re going to start on the floor. After that, your mom can decorate the rooms. I bet your guests are going to like this place, don’t you?”
“Yeah. So are you going to think about getting married someday?”
His evasive maneuvers hadn’t worked. No surprise there. Zach could be as tenacious as a Nantucket deer tick when he bit into a subject that interested him. “I might. But you have to fall in love with someone first.”
“You like my mom, don’t you?’
This was getting really sticky. “Sure. She’s a nice lady. I like her son, too.” He forced his lips into a grin, trying to come up with some way to distract the youngster. “I think we should have a wrap party after this job is finished, don’t you?”
“What’s that?”
The mention of a party had done the trick. Good. “It’s a celebration you have when a project is finished. We could have cake and ice cream, maybe.”
Zach’s eyes brightened. “Like a birthday?”
“Sort of.”
“I like cake. And ice cream, too. I bet we could talk Mom into it.”
“Zach!” Catherine’s voice interrupted their conversation. “Naptime.”
His face fell. “I hate naps.”
Smiling, Nathan gave him a gentle push toward the door. “You’ll outgrow them soon. Go on, your mom’s waiting. We don’t want her to worry. And this will give you a chance to ask her about that party.”
“Yeah.” Zach picked up his pace, clearly a man on a mission. “See you later, Nathan.”
“See you, champ.”
Once the little boy disappeared through the door, Nathan finished the cleanup. Ten minutes later, as he was placing the last folded tarp on top of the pile, Catherine joined him, surveying the room from the doorway.
“This turned out great, Nathan.”
“Thanks.” He wiped his hands on a rag, watching her. He’d been afraid Zach would mention their conversation about marriage, but if he was lucky, the boy’s total focus had been on the proposed celebration.
Her next comment confirmed that, for once, Lady Luck has smiled on him.
“Zach said you mentioned a party to celebrate when the project is finished. He seems to think it includes singing, along with ice cream and cake.”
Chuckling, he tossed the rag on top of the pile of tarps. “I called it a wrap party—with a w. No singing involved.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “I like the idea. And Zach loves parties.”
She was keeping her distance, hovering at the door rather than stepping into the room. As off balance as he was by the kiss they’d shared yesterday, judging by her behavior.
He considered bringing it up. But he was still grappling with his own feelings. For now, it might be better to table that discussion.
There was another issue he did want to bring up to her, however. One just as sensitive and potentially explosive. If he hadn’t come to care so much for Zach, he might leave it alone. But Catherine’s smothering attention, though prompted by love, was doing more harm than good. He hoped a few diplomatic hints might help her see the light.
It was worth the risk. For Zach’s sake.
Propping a shoulder against the newly painted wall, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Did you get him down okay for his nap?”
“Amid much protest. The nap will be history, anyway, come September when he goes to kindergarten.” A subtle tightening gave her features a fragile brittleness. “That’s going to be a difficult transition.”
“For him or for you?”
At his gentle question, she shrugged. “Both, maybe.”
“Zach seems ready to make some friends. Eager, even.”
She folded her arms across her chest. Not a good sign. “Letting him head out alone into the world worries me.”
“I doubt the kindergarten class on Nantucket is a dangerous place.” He let the hint of a smile play at his mouth, trying to coax her to relax a little.
It didn’t work.
She leveled a direct gaze at him, a world of pain in her eyes. “I didn’t think a convenience store on a quiet Saturday morning was, either.”
His smile evaporated. Instantly. “It shouldn’t have been. Which goes to prove that no matter how hard we try to protect the people we love, we don’t always succeed. We can only do our best to keep them safe and then put them in God’s hands.”
“God fell down on the job that day.” Her eyes grew hard and cold. “That’s why I’ve taken on full responsibility for Zach’s safety.”
“You can’t be with him every minute, Catherine.” He maintained a conversational tone, tamping down any suggestion of censure. “And even if you could, he needs space to grow. And breathe. And be a kid.”
Her jaw tightened, and the mutinous tilt of her chin told him she didn’t like his comment. “You think I’m smothering him, don’t you?”
“I think you love him with every fiber of your being. I think you want the best for him. I think you’re willing to go to any length to protect him.” He chose his next words with care. “But sometimes that can backfire. Too much of a good thing isn’t always good.”
A flame ignited in her eyes and she propped her fists on her hips. “You know, you might have a different take on this if you were in my shoes. If you’d lost someone you loved to violence. If you had an innocent, vulnerable child who counted on you to protect and nurture him. It’s easy to give advice when you don’t have that kind of responsibility. When you’ve never experienced the devastating effects of trauma on a little boy.”
A cold knot formed in Nathan’s gut as a surge of ugly memories snatched the breath from his lungs. It happened once in a while, after some random comment stirred that rancid pot. But this time, instead of shoving them back into a dark corner of his heart, he heard himself speaking.
“As a matter of fact, I have.”
In the shocked silence that followed his reply, Catherine stared at him. But she was no more stunned than he was
. He’d never even hinted at his dark secret to anyone. Only God was privy to it. And a man long gone from his life, whose specter could still haunt him on a bad night.
Slowly Catherine uncrossed her arms and let them drop to her sides. “Do you want to explain that?” Her tone was no longer strident, and her eyes had softened, encouraging him to confide.
He turned away abruptly. No, he didn’t want to explain. The mere thought of sharing his secret filled him with disgust and self-loathing—the very emotions it had taken him years to conquer.
Walking to the window, he gripped the sill and let the vast expanse of bright blue sky and open land soothe him. What had prompted him to make that admission? To open the door to the horror he’d kept hidden for so long?
And what would Catherine think if she knew the sordid details?
Yet…if he was interested in a relationship with her, if he thought the two of them had serious potential, could he keep it a secret? Should he keep it a secret? Wasn’t love all about trust and sharing and acceptance?
“I’m sorry I jumped all over you about Zach, Nathan.” Catherine’s contrite, caring voice was like a balm on his tattered soul. “But you hit a nerve. Because deep in my subconscious, I know you’re right. I’m stifling him with my love, and I need to back off. I’m sure it took a lot of courage for you to bring it up, and I appreciate your insights. Sometimes someone else’s take on a situation can provide a new perspective.”
She was giving him an opening. Not pushing, just making herself available if he wanted to explain his comment.
And maybe it was time to put aside the shame and guilt and bring the dark secret into the light of day. Expose it to the sunlight, in all its ugliness.
But to do that, he’d have to overcome the thing that had always held him back.
Fear of rejection.
And he wasn’t certain he could do that.
Even with Catherine.
Closing his eyes, he sent a plea to the Lord for guidance—and courage.