A White Rose

by Bekah Ferguson

  “That's the problem,” she fairly shouted, almost leaping up. “Your morals—your religious rules. Can't you see how they suck the life out of you? They make you feel guilty for things that should be fun and exciting. Life is meant to be enjoyed.”

  “Is that how you see Christianity?” he asked, expression subdued now. “As a control system designed to bind people with senseless guilt?”

  “You got it, honey. That's exactly how I see it. And that's what I don't get. You're such an intelligent, gifted man, and yet you've fallen headlong for something so obviously fake—made up. I don't understand it. How can you be so smart and so dumb at the same time!”

  “Do I look like a man who doesn't enjoy life?” A wry smile twitched at his lips. He tossed the stick towards the trail and Bear bounded after it with legs as clumsy as a pup.

  “What you look like, is a man who seriously needs to get laid.” She grinned. “You could have any woman with that body of yours. What you holding out for?”

  He smiled softly, a flush in his cheeks, and rubbed the back of his neck in what seemed a self-conscious gesture. “Love… ” He gave her a frank look, draping his forearms over his knees again. “I'm waiting for love. And when I find it”— he shrugged—“I want to have something to give. If I were to spend all my time trying to satisfy lust, I wouldn't be able to find love or even see love. Admit it, Dakota—people who seek after flings are not interested in long-term commitment. You can blame it on religion if you want, but this is a choice I've made of my own free will—I refuse to treat women like prostitutes. I'm waiting for true love.”

  “True love?” She let out a guffaw. “More fairy tales!”

  He grinned and shook his head. “Hey—sex was created by God in the first place—so how can Christianity be against it? Why would God create it and then forbid its enjoyment? He doesn't. The reason he laid out specific boundaries was to protect us from suffering.”

  “Suffering?” She laughed. “Is that what you call it?”

  He laughed. “What word would you use to describe heartbreak, disease or unwanted pregnancies?”

  “Oh, I don't know—how about irresponsible?”

  He leaned forward, hooking his fingers together. “Is it 'irresponsible' to get caught robbing a bank?”

  “Hardly a reasonable comparison, love.”

  “Here's the thing—” he said, undeterred, “God designed sex for marriage. Anything outside of that boundary is counterfeit and the end result is always the same. Pain.” He stared her down.

  She refused to blink but it took some effort.

  “There's a reason why many people have to drink themselves numb before hooking up with someone,” he said. He crossed an ankle over his knee, staring at her plainly.

  She moistened her bottom lip and glanced at the creek, heat tightening her chest. She could hold his gaze no longer; the fury within her about to surge out of control. The sun had dipped behind a cloud, blanketing the water in shade. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears and she wanted to argue and defend herself—tell him he had it all wrong.

  Yet all she could think about was two weeks prior when she'd slept with Michel again and he'd abruptly left her alone when she desperately needed to be held and comforted.

  She had suffered.

  And it was not the first time.

  Of course, she had been using Michel, as he had used her, but never had that reality been so stark as it was that night; the night after her mother had slit her wrists.

  Things were going downhill. The first ten years had been exciting; the sexual encounters seemed adventuresome, many pleasurable—for the most part—and immensely ego-boosting. But the past couple of years, her life had been taking on a new face; a nagging embodiment of gloom. A sense of hopelessness for the future. It was true. And she'd tried so hard to ignore it; to keep the spark alive.

  She looked at Jason, peeling her gaze from the waters. He'd picked up the empty water bottle and was twisting it in his hands, staring at the ground. Without the sunlight beating down, his hair was a very pale brown. It was almost as though a spotlight following him around week after week had suddenly turned off.

  He didn't look up, so she let her gaze linger.

  Since last weekend, she was seeing him as more than a conquest. He was Jason Sinclair… her friend. Had she ever seen a man as more than a good time or a tasty thing to look at? If men were guilty of objectifying women, she was guilty of objectifying them. If a man was ugly, she was deliberately rude and snobby if approached; unless at work, in which case, she used her charm to make every sale. And if she saw a man as a father-figure, she'd avoid or ignore him; looking on in resentment or suspicion, tending to associate every father with her own. As for old men, they were a different species altogether. The very thought of growing old made her shudder.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled. All these years she'd thought she loved men. Nobody loved men like Dakota Reilly. But it just wasn't true.

  She hated men.

  And that's why she'd never been willing to be vulnerable with one; why she'd never allowed herself to search for true love and companionship; why she'd never desired marriage. Men had the ability to break her heart, just as her father had year after year.

  Casual, independent sex was her way of dominating men—of controlling them. Of protecting herself.

  She opened her eyes and startled. Jason was looking right at her, hazel eyes clear and honest and thoughtful.

  “What?” she said. “Go ahead—say what you want to say.”

  He looked at her a while longer before responding. “It's not that I don't want to have sex,” he said. “That couldn't be farther from the truth, believe me.” He chuckled. “Do you think it's easy to abstain?”

  She scooted to the edge of the boulder and leaned over her knees as he was, holding his gaze steady. “I suppose it's easy enough if you suppress yourself and wander around day to day in denial.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I could say the same thing about casual sex.”

  She laughed.

  “I don't want a temporary fix, Dakota. I want the real thing.”

  “Marriage is nothing more than legalized rape,” she mumbled. “Some ideal.”

  The sun slipped out from behind the clouds then, highlighting the gold and copper tones in Jason's hair. He squinted but said nothing, though she felt certain he'd heard her comment.

  “So, why on earth did you invite me here today?” she asked. “You know what I am.” She moved back on the boulder, pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them, hugging her ankles. “Are you trying to convert me to your religion? Am I some kind of mission for you? 'Oh, that poor girl—her mother killed herself—she must be a basket-case in need of rescuing.' ”

  “You're putting words in my mouth.” A light-hearted frown. “The reason I asked you to fish with me is because you told me you've never had much outdoor recreational experience.” He smiled. “I thought you might enjoy this. I also thought it'd be a chance to get to know you. It's as simple as that. Oh, and for the record, I invited you to dinner last weekend because Jaelynn forced me to.” He chuckled, the warm sound of it dissolving her agitation and putting her back at ease. “She really likes you,” he said with a shrug. “As for me, I'm not so much of a stick in the mud that I wouldn't be willing to get to know you a little better.”

  She nodded. “Fair enough! But where can it possibly lead? We have two completely different agendas.”

  He stood and stretched, placing his palms in the small of his back. “Well, I've never been able to predict the future and I'm not about to try now.” He laughed. “But if you're willing to give friendship a go, so am I.”

  She slipped her booted feet to the ground and stood too, dusting off the seat of her jeans. “Are we done fishing now, or what?”

  He gathered up the fishing gear and the fish they'd caught. “Yes, ma'am.” He glanced at his watch. “And if you're up for it, it's time to go prepare these fish f
or the barbie.” He licked his lips and rubbed his belly comically.

  She laughed and shook her head. “Fine. Sounds yummy. But I'm not touching a dead fish—you can do it. Yuck!”

  She fell into step beside him as they headed for the trail, gripping her fishing rod. Bear took off ahead of them—disappearing into the woods like a streak of black.

  “I can't figure you out, Mr. Sinclair,” she said. “This friendship stuff better be worth my time.” She swatted at him playfully, her step light and comfortable beside him.

  He laughed, shaking his head.

  Perhaps, in time, she could convert him to her own religion.

  Chapter 22

  Stepping carefully from the grainy beach into the front of a sideways canoe, Dakota gripped the edges of the boat for balance and lowered herself onto the seat bench.

  “I don't know how you talked me into this,” she mumbled over her shoulder in the general direction of Jason. He laughed in response.

  When she was settled, Jason stepped into the back of the boat and sat down, jiggling the hull as he did. She poked her paddle into the sand at his instruction and pushed toward the shore until the front of the canoe was facing the middle of the lake and she could no longer reach the sand. Jason used his paddle to propel them into deeper water, and from there, he steered while she dipped her paddle in and out of the water with gentle strokes; as he'd explained to her a few minutes prior.

  Two weeks had passed since they'd gone fishing and Jason had called her the night before to see if she felt like a Saturday morning canoe trip. She was beginning to realize that spontaneous might be his middle name. At any rate, it was refreshing; the not knowing what he'd have up his sleeve next.

  The early morning air was cold and brisk. A misty fog hovered along the shore banks on the far side of the lake; the sun beginning to lighten the deep blue waters of its center. She had never canoed before. She felt like a roly-poly blimp sitting there all bundled up in a sweater and puffy life jacket.

  Dakota dipped her finger into the ice-cold water and shuddered. If this thing tipped… She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and paused; resting the paddle over her jean-clad knees. The boat glided forward through calm waters as Jason continued to paddle. They were following the shore banks to the left of the Shanty Bay beach they'd set out from. Beach homes lined the bay on either side but after a while, the lake waters narrowed to the breadth of a river and the homes trickled away to dense woodland. Soon they were paddling next to rocky banks where towering pines and cedars lined the water's edge.

  Below the clear water lay ancient, algae-covered boulders and logs. The occasional fish or school of fish darted out from under them and in and out of the various spindly branches of fallen trees spreading out beneath the surface. Slimy weeds floated in the undercurrents around them.

  “This is so relaxing,” she breathed, overcome with awe.

  “Yeah, I love it,” he said from behind her. “It's a great way to unwind and enjoy nature.”

  “So tell me. How come you're so outdoorsy?”

  “My dad,” he said after a moment, voice thickening. He cleared his throat. “He loved anything outdoors. We spent a lot of time camping, hiking… fishing. That kind of thing… ”

  “Do you miss him?”

  No response came but she didn't dare look over her shoulder. She could enjoy this only so long as the boat stayed steady.

  “Yeah,” he said finally. “To be honest, I haven't spent as much time doing these things since he died—not quite as fun when you're by yourself. And Jaelynn… ” his voice trailed off. “It's been a hard go.”

  “Am I your new companion?” she asked with a breezy tone, trying to lighten the mood. “Is that what this is about?”

  He laughed. “Sure, why not?”

  A silence fell between them.

  “I wish I'd had a dad like yours,” she said eventually. “Even though he died young, at least you have a whole childhood of memories to . . . to cherish.” She hesitated. It wasn't often that she opened her heart to anyone. In fact, it was rare.

  Jason didn't speak.

  “My father is still alive and well, as far as I know,” she said, “but I haven't seen him or spoken to him since I was a teenager.” She let out a laugh as though it were funny. “He'll probably live to a ripe old age, but what will it matter to me? He didn't even come to my mother's funeral… ” An exhale. “I have a whole childhood of 'memories' with him and yet I have to strain to think of any worth remembering!”

  Now she really wanted to look back at him. Why wasn't he saying anything? He must be judging her. She'd made him uncomfortable; he probably pitied her. She should've just kept her mouth shut.

  “I never thought of it in that way,” he said after a short while. “It's been—difficult to accept my father's death… but you're right—I'm blessed to have had so many good years with him. A lot of people don't get to have that… ” He paused, as though uncertain. “I'm sorry your dad wasn't there for you.”

  She glanced down at her lap, stopping her paddle mid-stroke as she blinked back a tear.

  Or the love of a mother, she wanted to say, Jason's mother coming to mind. It wasn't fair. She pursed her lips and stared ahead, resuming her paddling.

  “You know, God isn't like that,” Jason spoke from behind her, his voice low and gentle. “He's not detached and self-absorbed like many parents can be.” She stiffened. “He's always faithful—always there when you need him.”

  She gave him a nod. “So you say… ”

  ***

  After a while, they reached an opening along the bank; a natural alcove of sorts. Jason suggested they land the canoe there and have an early lunch. Neither of them had eaten breakfast.

  The natural beach was roughly ten feet in length and about twenty feet deep. Dakota climbed out first after gliding the canoe up onto the sand. She tugged the canoe forward onto the bank so Jason could climb out without getting his shoes wet. He retrieved a small cooler from the center of the canoe and set it next to himself on a log. Dakota found a lichen-coated slab of rock across from him. She removed her life jacket and crossed one leg over the other; swinging her foot as she watched Jason lift sandwiches and drinks from the cooler.

  “Egg or tuna?” he asked.

  “Tuna,” she said. “Please an' thank ya.”

  He passed it to her, along with a bottled juice, and reached for the egg sandwich.

  She nibbled at her sandwich, somewhat mesmerized by the tranquility of nature all around her. She'd always loved working outdoors with gardens and plants; why had she never thought to try anything more? No time, really, she supposed. The majority of her free time was spent shopping and socializing. Parties, clubs and restaurants.

  “What's with the chewed up, naked-looking trees behind you?” she asked, pointing. The bottom half of a group of cedar trees had been stripped bare of foliage.

  Jason twisted, glancing over his shoulder. He grinned. “Deer food.”

  “Oh, how adorable!” She grinned. “I wouldn't mind seeing one sometime. Up close, I mean. I've seen the occasional one in the fields near my greenhouses, but none up close.”

  “I get them in the backyard all the time,” he said. “They don't even notice Bear, despite how frantic he gets when he sees them.” He laughed, eyes crinkling with amusement. “I guess they know he can't break through the fence.”

  She averted her gaze, taking another smallish bite of her sandwich. Why did Jason have to be so cute? Friendship-smenship. What she wouldn't give to make out with him. Push him down into the moss and kiss those smooth, manly lips; the soft dimple in his cheek…

  Erotic thoughts quickened her pulse. But what next? A few steamy weeks together and then never speak to one another again? She had to admit she was enjoying these recreational outings and would miss them if they came to an end. Truth was, she'd miss him, too.

  “So—how long will we be friends for?” she asked. “Will you 'gradually' stop calling if I don't convert to C
hristianity?” She raised an eyebrow; daring him to refute her.

  He gave her a half smile, finishing off the last bite of his sandwich. “Here we go again… ”

  He chuckled and she let out a huff. “What?”

  A shrug. “You still think my only agenda is to convert you.”

  She took an unladylike chug of juice. “So, you admit that it's at least part of your agenda then.”

  “Sure. Just as it is with anyone I get to know who doesn't know the Lord. . . . I just want to share with others what I consider to be the best thing in my life.” He smiled, eyes twinkling. “You can call that an 'agenda' but it's really just who I am.”

  She searched his eyes. “Okay, I suppose I can accept that. But do you actually enjoy spending time with me or are you motivated strictly by sharing your religion?” She paused, considering how to rephrase. “Specifically, would you still want to spend time with me if I forbid you to talk about God?”

  A thoughtful smile spread across his lips and he didn't break eye contact as she might have expected. “My-dear-Dakota,” he said. “You always act so confident and secure, but when you go and say things like that… ” He scrunched his brow, expression sobering like a cloud passing over the sun. “Don't you realize your worth? Your value? Is it hard for you to believe that anyone could like you just for you?”

  Tears welled in her eyes and she jerked her gaze away, cheeks burning.

  What kind of spell did this man have on her that he could make her cry without any wink of warning?

  “I—um… ” she stumbled to defend herself; unsure of what to say. Maybe that's what had her so shaken—he was bang on. Women liked to be seen with her; it gave them social status—and men liked to date her; another notch on the bedpost to brag about. But who had ever shown any interest in her and her alone? Clarice was the only person who had expressed genuine care for her, but she'd always chalked it up to the woman's kind heart and sense of Christian duty.