by Lissa Manley
So she pulled away to allow him to think; if he were as distracted by her closeness as she was by his, he wasn’t going to be able to respond to her pointed query about forgiving himself at all coherently.
Would he even respond at all? She knew how hard it was to ask oneself the tough questions, much less respond to someone else asking. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if he told her to butt out and mind her own business.
Well, maybe a tad surprised…
Bothered by the possibility that he might tell her to take a hike, she wandered over and looked out the window to her right, noting the wooden deck flanked by an overgrown backyard. Apparently Carson didn’t have much time for yard work. No surprise there; as the sheriff and single parent he probably didn’t have time for anything but work and being a dad.
He obviously had a full plate. Even so, he’d taken time to invite her over and talk, to include her in his and Heidi’s lives. Somehow that made her insides all warm and mushy. And distinctly conflicted.
What else was new since the handsome sheriff had walked into the parlor to talk about Heidi? Seemed Phoebe would be used to the topsy-turvy emotions father and daughter brought out in her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Carson’s cell phone ringing.
A pause. “Hello?” he said.
Phoebe turned around.
Carson listened for a moment, nodding, and then said, “No problem. I’ll be there shortly.” He disconnected and shoved his phone back into his pocket. “That was Deputy Miller. I’m needed at the station.”
Good timing. For both of them. “Okay. Do you want me to stay with Heidi?”
“Mrs. P. is always willing to come on short notice.”
“It seems silly to bother her on a Sunday. Why don’t you go, and I’ll hang out here with Heidi. I’m sure she’ll be down after she finishes her homework.”
He gave Phoebe a gentle smile. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.” And maybe it would be better if she had some time to process what they’d talked about. Maybe a couple of years would be long enough. Then again, maybe not.
“Okay. Thanks.” He headed over and grabbed his keys from a ceramic bowl on the counter. “I shouldn’t be long.”
“Take your time,” she said, meaning it. She had a lot to think about.
He left, and she was alone with nothing but her thoughts, which were anything but serene. Especially since Carson had told her how CJ had died, which had cracked her heart wide open, like a broken egg oozing through her. Just the thought of what he’d gone through, and the guilt and self-reproach he carried around like a stone on his back, made her chest ache and her eyes water.
She pressed a hand to the bridge of her nose to keep herself from crying. Inevitably, she thought about the fact that they both struggled with forgiveness. Amazing that they shared that bond. But frightening, too, for someone like her who preferred neat and tidy emotions she could manage.
But this…this whirlpool of confusion and shifting emotions and slippery-slope changes made her feel vulnerable. As if her heart had a target etched on it and Carson and Heidi were trading off shooting arrows at her.
Sooner or later, Phoebe feared one of them would hit a bull’s-eye that would not only hurt, but would change her forever.
What if she let herself love Carson and Heidi, and she lost them? How would she survive that?
She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling an achy fullness in her heart that told her that one—or both—of them had already landed a near-perfect shot to her center. And that no matter what happened, her heart would never be the same now that the Winterses were in her life.
*
Three hours after he’d left, Carson pulled his cruiser back into the driveway, both glad and apprehensive that Phoebe was still here.
What a weird, unsettling way to feel, this odd combination of happiness and nervousness that always seemed to take ahold of him when she was around. How could one woman manage to stir so many conflicting emotions inside of him?
He sat for a moment, allowing himself to go back to the conversation he and Phoebe had had before he’d been called away. He had to say, he admired how she’d turned his suggestion about forgiving God back on him. Coming at him from that angle had helped the concept of forgiving himself make more sense, even though her right-back-atcha had forced him to look things in the eye he’d rather stuff away in a box, never to be viewed.
For the first time since CJ had died, he realized that maybe he needed to change the way he did things, the way he approached his grief. For himself, yes. But especially for Heidi. Anything for her.
Maybe he could even ask God for help? Amazing how that concept, coming from Phoebe, seemed logical, even achievable. Something he could accept and hold on to when the chips were down.
But, then, she was an amazing woman. And he had a feeling he’d just begun to scratch her surface.
He shook his head as he exited his rig, put off-balance by his thoughts of Phoebe. Guess his disorderly emotions had become standard operating procedure since she’d come into their lives.
Letting himself in the door, he noted all of the lights at the front of the house were off and the rooms were quiet and still. Made sense, given the hour. Heidi was surely already asleep. Thank goodness Phoebe had agreed to stay as late as need be when he’d called a few hours ago to tell her he was going to be longer than he’d originally thought.
He stopped in his office and locked up his service weapon, then headed toward the family room and dark kitchen, noting the glow of the TV shining into the hallway. As he entered the room, he looked left, and saw Phoebe stretched out on the couch, asleep. She’d obviously dozed off while watching the tube.
Moving closer, he stared down at her, noting how her curly hair covered one cheek. The light from the TV cast her face in shadows, but there was enough illumination to see the soft curve of her jaw. She had one hand up to cushion her head on the padded end of the microfiber couch, and the other lay relaxed on her hip.
Something warm moved through him as he watched the slight rise and fall of her chest while she slept. What would it be like to come home to her every night like this? To have her waiting for him?
Intrigued by his train of thought, he resisted the urge to shove the vision into a tight cage; there was no harm in dreaming, was there?
The minute he let down his mental guard he was filled with a yearning he hadn’t allowed himself to have in a very long time. A longing for companionship. Support. Love. Someone to come home to after a long day. All things a woman could provide.
A woman like Phoebe.
Shocked at how quickly he’d woven Phoebe into his crazy vision of another life, he reeled himself in, away from the chaos of allowing love into his heart again. What was the use in dreaming of things that had such a price?
But…what was it about this woman that had him envisioning her as a part of this family? Part of his life?
Before he could answer those leading questions, Phoebe stirred, opened her eyes and looked at him. After a blank-look hesitation, she spread her mouth into a slow, sleepy smile that socked him in the chest and made his mouth go dry.
“Hi,” she said on a yawn, stretching. “Did you just get home?”
Swallowing, he moved around the couch, feeling weird that she’d caught him watching her sleep. He had to get a grip.
“Yeah. Sorry it took so long. It’s not often we book so many people for drunk and disorderly and MIPs.” A group of underage college kids had come to town for the weekend and built a bonfire on the beach, then proceeded to get smashed on beer they’d hauled down there in a keg. What a mess.
She sat up and smoothed her smushed curls back with one hand, looking adorable. “MIP?”
“Minor in possession.”
“Oh.” She rubbed her eyes. “Anyway, it was no problem. I was watching mindless TV and guess I dozed off.”
“Did everything go okay with Heidi?” he asked, sitting on the end of the couch. Close,
but not too close. Safe. Maybe, though part of him wondered if he’d ever be safe again.
Phoebe rubbed her eyes, nodding. “Yup. We watched a show on TV about baby animals, and then she went to bed at nine like you asked.”
“Great. Thanks.” He ran a hand through his hair, then turned to Phoebe, making a snap decision. “I know it’s late, but do you think we could continue the discussion we were having before I left?” Maybe talking would help answer some of the lingering questions he had.
She blinked. “Sure.” She uncoiled her feet from underneath her. “I think we left off with me asking you if you could do what you suggested I do and forgive yourself for CJ’s death.”
“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten what we were talking about,” he said ruefully.
“Do you wish you could forget?”
“Part of me does.” The part that wanted to stay hidden and blissfully clueless. Alone and safe from turmoil.
“But the other part?” she asked.
“The other part realizes that if I truly want to heal, and if I want to help Heidi, I’m going to have to face some hard truths.”
She skimmed his arm with her hand. “You’ve come a long way.”
“I have you to thank,” he said honestly, trying to ignore the tingles her touch caused. “You’ve helped me to see that the necessary path isn’t always the path of least resistance.”
“It’s funny you’d say that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m an expert at doing whatever’s easiest, even if it may not be best in the long run.” She gave him a crooked smile. “I like it when things stay the same.”
“Guess we’re a lot alike in that way, aren’t we?” He cocked a brow. “Always taking the safe route.”
“Less chance to get hurt that way,” she said.
Exactly. “So what are we going to do about that?”
“Um…open up?”
The prospect had his stomach knotting, but he held out a hand; if she could take the risk, so could he. Plus, she knew how he felt, and that unique bond strengthened his resolve to conquer his fears. For Heidi. “I’m game if you are.”
After a slight hesitation, she took his hand, her grasp warm and soft. Comforting. Wonderful. “Game on.”
With so much on the line, he only hoped it was a win-win situation for both of them.
*
For a woman out to maintain her precious status quo, Phoebe was afraid she liked the feel of Carson’s hand in hers just a bit too much. What else was new? He always made her want risky things.
She gingerly pulled her hand away, looking for necessary distance, but then missing his touch the second he let go of her. Go figure.
“So. Why don’t you go first,” she said. Chicken sounds echoed in her head. One baby step at a time for her.
“If I remember correctly, you asked me whether I could forgive myself for CJ’s death.”
“Actually, what I asked was whether you could work on getting rid of your anger toward yourself in the interest of self-forgiveness.”
He rubbed his shadowed jaw. “Guess I have to force myself to look at stuff I’d rather ignore.”
“Such as?”
A shadow crept into his eyes. “How mad I am at myself for leaving CJ.” A pause. “Livid, really, and I hate that. I can never relax, never feel…peaceful.”
“So, you’re saying you want peace.”
He looked away. “More than anything, but I’m afraid I’ll never have it, like I’m trapped in this circle of…negativity, anger, grief and chaos, and I don’t know how to get out.”
His circle comment struck a chord. “So, you want peace, but you’re stuck in a circle of anger that leads to denying yourself forgiveness, which leads to chaos, which leads to anger and unhappiness, and the cycle starts over.” She took a deep breath. “So the way I see it, you’re never going to get the peace you crave until you forgive yourself.”
He was silent for a while. Finally he said, “What you’ve said makes an odd kind of sense. But I truly don’t know how to get to a place of self-forgiveness.”
“Have you thought any more about asking God for help with that?”
“Actually, I have.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Great. I’m impressed.” He never quit surprising her.
“One question, though.”
“Okay,” she said, an odd niggling of dread starting to jab at her.
“How, exactly, can leaning on God help me?” he asked in an even voice.
Seemed like a reasonable question. “I believe that if you have faith in God, you’ll be comforted, and that will then, in turn, help you with your grief. And then you’ll have peace.”
He shifted on the couch until he was fully facing her, his gaze speculative. “So, if having faith in God is such a no-brainer, why don’t you have any?”
The veracity of his comment took the wind out of her sails. Sagging back on the couch, she realized this conversation had taken a turn she hadn’t expected, but probably should have. Carson was no idiot. And he deserved nothing less than honesty from her.
Trouble was, that meant looking into her heart and accepting that if she wanted to move on—and, surprisingly, now that she’d met Carson, she did—she was going to face some difficult truths.
And she was also going to have to let God back into her life.
Was that particular undertaking going to be much harder than she’d ever imagined?
*
Carson saw Phoebe’s shoulders sag as she crossed her arms over her torso, folding inward. He immediately regretted pushing her about her falling-out with God. She was probably going to tell him to mind his own business in no uncertain terms.
He let the silence play out for a while, and his self-recrimination gradually faded. Phoebe wouldn’t want him to pull any punches, given she hadn’t pulled any with him. That just wasn’t her style. In fact, her straightforwardness was one of the things he liked best about her.
Finally, the strung-out silence got to him. “I guess I’ve thrown you for a loop, haven’t I?” he said, going for semi-neutral ground.
“Not really,” she said as she rubbed at what looked to be an imaginary spot on the couch.
“I don’t buy that,” he said. “You’re rarely left speechless, and you rarely fiddle with invisible things on furniture.”
With a small smile, she inclined her head to the side and seemingly very deliberately lifted her hand in the air. “True on both counts. The thing is…if I admit you’re right, then I’ll have to change things, and I’m not sure I’m ready to do that.”
“I understand,” he replied. “But I don’t think there’s that much change involved.”
She gave him a look brimming with obvious skepticism. “Why not?”
“So you say there’s a chasm between you and God, and that you’re angry with Him, and you told me that faith helps people through loss by offering comfort, right?”
“Yes.”
“So…I contend that faith doesn’t just disappear, and that you’re in essence ignoring your own beliefs by letting the chasm between you and God affect your relationship with Him.”
She looked sideways at him. “I assume there’s a point here?”
He turned so he was looking directly at her. “Shouldn’t your faith bridge that gap, at least partway?”
She blinked at him, her jaw visibly loosening.
Plunging forward, he added, “At least enough to help you realize how important God is to you, especially now, after you’ve suffered such a loss?”
She sat staring at him for a long, tense moment, her pretty blue eyes glimmering, her lips quivering.
Regret spilled through him like battery acid; he’d pushed too far. What had he been thinking? Telling others what to do wasn’t his usual M.O. In fact, he usually went with the exact opposite and stayed uninvolved.
“I’m sorry,” he uttered, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have—”
She placed a finger on his lip
s, silencing him. “No, don’t apologize,” she said, her voice raspy.
All he could manage to do was stare unblinkingly at her.
She stared back, her blue eyes wide, hanging on his gaze. And then with a muffled cry, she snaked her arms around his shoulders and hugged him.
Floored, tingling all over, he hesitated for a stunned moment, and then wrapped his arms around her.
“You are so right about everything,” she whispered in his ear. “I have been using my anger against God instead of relying on my faith and asking Him for help.”
Something warm blew up in his chest, taking his breath away. When he was able to draw air in again, he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the citrus scent of her shampoo, wanting to hold her close and never let her go.
“I only went by what you taught me.” He pulled back and cupped her smooth cheek in his hand. “Looks like we both learned something here today, didn’t we?”
She nodded, clinging to him with those liquid blue eyes. He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t even breathe. Something in his brain misfired, and before he could stop himself, he closed the distance between them.
And then he did what he insisted he wouldn’t. He kissed her, full-on, no holding back. She gasped against his lips, and then kissed him back, her mouth soft as silk against his.
A deep feeling of contentment jolted through him, and he realized how much he’d missed being close to a woman in this way. Strangely, it seemed as if an important piece of him that had been gone for a long time fell back into place, completing him in an inexplicable yet staggering way.
After a long, wonderful moment, Phoebe pulled back, staring at him from just inches away. “Wow.”
Smiling, he smoothed her hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Wow.” As in, completely amazing.
Chewing on her lip, she broke their linked gazes. “Do you think we’re making a mistake?” she asked, snuggling down against his side.
He sat back against the couch, pulling her with him. “At the moment, I don’t really care.”
“Really?” she asked, her voice doused with uncertainty.
Smiling, he squeezed her shoulder. “I know, that sounds weird.” To himself, too. What was going on, anyway? Why was he letting himself be pulled into all that was Phoebe? Other than the fact that she was the most wonderful woman he’d ever met?