“I’m Charlie Hamilton. A friend of Isabelle’s. And you are?” He clutched her tighter, an undeniably possessive hold.
Stunned, but also relieved, she didn’t budge.
Her mind chanted, rescuer. She cringed. Twice in three weeks, Charlie had come to her defense. No doubt, he felt pretty good about that.
Rusty’s glare darted between her and Charlie. “I’m the ranch hand, sir. I don’t want no trouble. Just was asking the young lady for a date. Didn’t know she was taken. So…” He bounced two fingers off his forehead in a saucy salute, turned, and strutted away. “The girl should-a told me.”
Isabelle snorted but didn’t reply. She waited until Rusty disappeared into the barn then squirmed out of Charlie’s grasp. “Charlie, thank you. I never expected that out of Rusty.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Isabelle. Unfortunately, even jerks like Rusty notice.” Charlie brushed a smudge of dirt off her cheek. The warmth of his fingers tingled through her. She straightened and tried to ignore it.
But, she couldn’t ignore the concern in his voice, the gentle look in his eyes. She swallowed, feeling her comfort level crumble. “Again, thank you.” She eased back a step. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
A frown creased Charlie’s forehead. He shifted his weight and folded his arms across his chest. “Wait a minute. I just saved you from who knows what, and you can’t spare a moment to talk to me.”
She couldn’t afford to, not with her heart playing the role of the ultimate betrayer. She took a breath. But then again. She blew the air out with a low sigh. “I suppose I have a couple minutes.” She probably owed him that.
“Good. Why don’t we grab a cup of coffee somewhere? We really need to talk about some things.”
She didn’t owe him that much. “Sorry, I don’t have much time.” She peered at her wristwatch, hoping to look convincing. “Besides, I can’t imagine what we’d have to talk about.”
Confusion and distress registered in his expression, as though someone had kicked him in the gut. A feeling she knew all too well. “Isabelle, I doubt you walked away from our relationship without a few issues.”
Abruptly her patience broke. Did he really want to know about her issues? Well, she had six years of them. Loneliness, rejection, frustration. Not to mention a whole host of insecurities. She hissed a breath in through her teeth. “Charlie, it’s a little late to be concerned about my issues, because I’ve already resolved them.” Almost.
Charlie simply nodded. He shifted his weight and appeared to be waiting for her to calm down.
“Well…” She fiddled with her keys, tempted to tell him how much he’d hurt her. How much he’d let her down. But why waste her breath?
He narrowed his eyes on her. “Well, I haven’t resolved mine. I think we need to talk.”
Isabelle held his gaze for another heartbeat then forced herself to focus on a willow tree swaying in the distance. Deep down, she wanted to hear his thoughts. Wanted to hear that he’d been hurt also. But she couldn’t revisit the past. Moving forward had been too difficult, and she had no plans to go back. She cleared her throat. “Charlie, you really don’t know me anymore.”
“You’re right.” Charlie’s voice dipped to a raspy whisper. “And I can’t tell you how sad that makes me.”
Her whole insides tightened. Her gaze moved back to his. Why was God doing this? Allowing Charlie back in her life? Unearthing the pain and emotions she’d so carefully buried?
He leaned forward. His chest heaved. “Isabelle, I have issues, and I need answers.”
She held her breath, studied his troubled face, the way his Adam’s apple rode the length of his throat. She felt sorry for him…well, sort of. “I’m sorry. This isn’t a good time.”
“When would be a good time?”
Fidgeting with her keys, she ignored the guilt adding to the havoc inside her. His issues were his problem. “I’m not sure. I’ll check my schedule.”
“Good.”
The hopeful smile he sent warmed her more than she cared to admit. Focus. The last thing she wanted was to let down her guard. Regardless of how he roused old emotions, past indiscretions tore his new superhero status to pieces.
“Please get back to me on what day you have free. By the way, do you own one of these horses?” He gestured to the barn behind him.
“What?” She blinked up at him.
“A horse. Do you own one?”
“No, I lease a bay gelding.”
A second lapsed. Maybe two. He nodded. “We used to have a lot of fun riding together, didn’t we? I miss those days.” He shook his head, disappointment lingering in his tone.
Isabelle’s heart gave a thump. Here she was, reliving history with Charlie, all because, he happened to be in the right place at the right time―twice.
“Yeah.” He shook his head. “Those were the best times. Long trail rides, watching the sun go down. Even helping you clean stalls.”
Chuckling, Charlie rambled on about events from their past. Conveniently hitting the highlights and leaving out vitals facts that had turned her world upside down.
Isabelle winced at where the conversation was going. Right back to a time she wanted to forget. She held up her hand. “I’m sorry, but I need to leave.”
Charlie frowned. Clearly, he had expected her to reminisce with him. As if the good times could erase the bad.
If only life were that easy. She lifted her chin. “Thanks again, Charlie. I owe you one.”
“Two.” One corner of his mouth hiked up in a grin. “Don’t forget Humphrey.”
Of course. As if he’d let her forget. She nodded, fighting a smirk.
“By the way, I’ll call the barn’s manager to let him know about Rusty. You shouldn’t ride again until they get rid of him.”
Probably true. “I appreciate that.”
“Another thing.” He reached out his hand and touched her arm, his thumb gently caressing her skin.
Isabelle’s chin quivered. She became vibrantly aware of two things. One, the heat of his touch burning through her. Second, she couldn’t breathe.
“I’ve missed you, Belle.”
Her chest tightened further. She blinked. A single tear dampened her cheek. She covered her mouth with her hand, afraid of what she might say. Of course she‘d missed him, but what they had once was over.
“Isabelle.” He slanted a look from under his dark brows.
She shook her head and twisted away. She headed for the car, fighting the illogical emotions with the same determination she’d learned six years before.
“Don’t call me Belle.” She called over her shoulder. He’d lost that right.
5
Charlie crossed his arms and shook his head as Isabelle peeled out of the parking lot, gravel and dust spewing in her wake. Not his best move, to call her Belle, and definitely premature. He only hoped her strong reaction meant she still cared.
Blowing out a sigh, he pushed up his sleeves. He felt rotten. The heat and humidity only intensified his gloom, especially with his mind playing flashbacks of Rusty manhandling Isabelle. He fisted his hand, hungry to track down Rusty. Never too late to instill a little fear, he thought. No. He took a breath and flexed his fingers. First thing Monday morning he’d give the barn’s manager a call.
He wanted Isabelle safe. That’s all that mattered.
Well, actually, he wanted more than that. He shoved his hands in his pockets, kicked at the loose gravel. He wanted Isabelle back in his life.
Charlie shoved the thought aside and walked to his truck. Brooding never accomplished anything. He opened the door, climbed inside and had driven halfway to the exit when he noticed the camera on the passenger seat. After a mental head slap, he wheeled the vehicle around. He’d almost forgotten why he’d come to the barn in the first place.
Grabbing his camera, he clambered from the truck and snapped pictures of the barn and pastures from various angles. Then crouching on one knee, he opened the camera’s wide a
ngle to encompass as much of the grounds as possible. Four more shots from different directions. He reviewed the pictures. Good enough.
On his way out of the parking lot, he adjusted the radio. The lyrics humming through the speakers eased his pent up frustration. Never much of a radio fan, he usually preferred the quiet. But recently he caught himself turning up the music on the Christian channel. The words in the songs spoke to him. A couple of times, he found himself singing along. God’s forgiveness still amazed him.
He hated to think of how he’d carried on these last few years. Too much booze, foul language, and the wrong type of women. He kicked the accelerator and stared at the deserted stretch of road unfolding before him. Forgiven, he reminded himself. So far that mantra kept him going.
His vibrating phone put a stop to his musings.
He flipped open the handset to an earful of static. “Charlie Hamilton.” He remembered a day when calls to Isabelle took up his cell minutes.
“Charlie, this is Erica.” Her whiny voice cut through the raspy connection. He bit back a sigh. “Sorry about storming out of your office yesterday. I was upset, but I’m still not ready to give up on us. I don’t want you to either.”
Despite the signal cutting in and out, he heard every word. He pulled onto the highway hoping for a dead zone in service. He didn’t have to give up on their relationship. There was nothing to give up on. Shallowness, competition, putting on airs. He missed none of it.
“There isn’t an us anymore, Erica.”
“There still can be. Life hasn’t been the same since we broke-up, Charlie. I know you miss me, too.”
Nothing could be farther from the truth. Charlie shifted the phone to his other ear. “Erica, we need to talk.”
The static cleared, and he nearly dropped the phone as Erica’s squeal shot through the airwaves. “Yes! Oh, Charlie, you’re right. I know we can work things out.”
“Hold on a minute, Erica.” He bumped the phone volume down a couple notches. “I said we should talk. You know, get things settled.”
He squinted against the sun glaring on the windshield. Hostile, just like their relationship. A relationship he knew needed to be squelched once and for all.
“Yes, darling, of course. Shall I stop by tonight?”
That was the last thing he wanted. “No, no. Let’s meet somewhere.”
“OK, tell me where and when.”
He clutched the wheel tighter, his knuckles knotting as he thought. “How about tomorrow? Seven o’clock. Tenille’s Café.”
“Ooh, perfect. I’m glad you remembered I love Tenille’s. They make the best mocha lattes ever.”
“Great.” Charlie growled low in his throat.
“What was that, Charlie?”
“Nothing. I’ll see you at Tenille’s tomorrow.”
He snapped his cell phone closed and dropped it on the seat. Had he remembered, he would have suggested some other place.
****
The following Monday after school, the traffic light appeared more dull than usual, at least that’s what Isabelle told herself after she pulled into the intersection, stomped on the brake pedal, and skidded, causing another motorist to swerve to avoid hitting her. Struggling to breathe, she gripped the wheel and steered the car under control. She darted her gaze around looking for a traffic cop, thankful she hadn’t caused an accident. Or gotten a ticket.
Once through the intersection, she lifted her sunglasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Between Charlie’s reappearance, Kate’s wedding, and the end of spring break she could hardly think straight.
Or apparently drive. A shudder worked its way through her body.
Even as her mind spun in ten different directions, her thoughts continued to spin back to Charlie. The strong feel of his arms around her, the protection she felt by his touch, the way he stood up to Rusty…
She thumped her sunglasses back on her nose. Foolish. To waste time dredging emotions from the past. She clenched the steering wheel tighter. That craziness was going to stop now. She had more important issues that needed solving.
She thought about the new quarter and exhaled, long and hard. Twenty-two second graders bursting with spring fever and no one to help her. Even if the principal promised to hire a new aide, she doubted that would happen. Not with only nine weeks left of school. Thankfully, she’d send a note home with her students requesting a parent volunteer. So, far one mother had offered to help in the classroom one day a week. Now she’d be freed up a bit more to pursue Kate’s shower plans and hopefully, get to the barn to ride Admiral. Things were definitely moving in the right direction.
A pang of guilt about her lack of trust tugged at her heart. She said a quick prayer of thanks, knowing God was always there for her. She pulled into the strip mall parking lot, feeling better. Her favorite coffee shop beckoned.
The bell jingled on the door as she walked into Tenille’s. She already knew what she wanted. Still she took a moment to peruse the pastry case. Baked goods lined the shelves and they looked delicious. Fresh and —Willpower, she reminded. Too many calories for seven-thirty at night.
She moved to the register. “Caramel latte, decaf, sugar free, skim milk.” Isabelle bit the inside of her lip, still eyeing the glass display case, thinking twice. OK, three times.
“Go ahead, try one. Spruce up that boring drink with some carbs.” The customer behind her chuckled.
Isabelle glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled. “You’re right. They’re tempting.” She pushed a handful of change across the counter to the clerk.
“My favorite is the pound cake. The best I’ve tasted. The cinnamon rolls aren’t bad either, especially with a cup of dark roast coffee. Excellent combo.” The older man rambled on.
Not wanting to be rude, Isabelle nodded as if listening, but she wasn’t. In her peripheral vision she noticed someone at a table across the room. Charlie…but it was the blonde across from him that held her attention. The woman stared into Charlie’s eyes as he leaned in, his hands on the table, talking to her. A serious conversation.
In spite of all reason, a jolt of remembered love washed over her. Sadness bubbled up in her chest and into her throat. She swallowed hard, scooted past the chatty man to a display of coffee mugs, and squinted to get a better peek. The woman looked more stunning up close. Long platinum hair, designer jeans, and her purse, the same tangerine color as her shirt, probably cost more than Isabelle made in a month.
She heaved a sigh and wrenched her gaze away. She heard Charlie worked for his girlfriend’s father. What she didn’t know was how awful it would feel to see him with her. Someone so attractive. So well to do. Charlie’s mother must be thrilled.
She bet Sharon Hamilton already had their wedding planned, probably even names picked out for their children. As Isabelle thought about that, her head throbbed. She rubbed her brow, not sure what she felt more—frustration or curiosity.
A beat passed. She swallowed. OK. Curiosity won.
After a moment’s hesitation, Isabelle eased her gaze back and zeroed in on the woman. The blonde twirled a pale curl around her finger, Isabelle couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw a sparkly ring on her finger. Of course, Charlie had to be engaged. He worked for the woman’s father. To think just two days earlier he’d asked her out for coffee. That rat.
“Miss, your order is ready.”
Isabelle spun around, snatched up the drink, and started for the exit. The fear of being spotted quickened her pace. She pulled open the door and risked one last glance back.
Charlie still looked deep in conversation. She couldn’t make out his words. Good thing. He was probably telling the woman he loved her.
Grief washed over her, making her feel even lower. Something she hadn’t thought possible. Charlie had proven long ago he wasn’t worth it.
She stepped out of the café. A gust of wind whistled around her and slapped the drink out of her hand. Hot coffee splashed on her jeans, and the empty paper cup rolled down the si
dewalk. She chased after it and tossed it in a trashcan. A faint thunder rumbled in the distance as a fat raindrop hit her nose. Perfect.
She scrambled across the parking lot and hurried inside her car. She sat for a moment, fighting back tears. The pastor’s Sunday morning message rolled through her head. All things work together for good. Pressure built in her chest. Leaning her elbows on the steering wheel, she cupped her face in her hands and wept. How could anything involving Charlie be good for her? A better question, Why, Lord, have you allowed Charlie to disrupt my life? Again.
****
Charlie opened the file labeled Cedar Lake Barn. Lifting his pen, he scratched his head and looked over the documents, making sure everything was in order. About three pages in, he spotted an error. He hit the intercom.
“What do you need?”
He ignored Brenda’s snappy tone and stated the page numbers he was missing. Then, he picked up his coffee and took a drink, mentally rehearsing the presentation for that afternoon.
Not bad, he concluded. Especially, considering his recent distractions. Focus used to be easy, but lately Isabelle kept his mind spinning. He just couldn’t figure her out. Shaking his head, he still couldn’t believe she hadn’t called to thank him for having Rusty fired.
On the other hand, Erica kept calling. Right now he had three messages on his cell phone—all from her. Which reminded him, he needed to update his resume just in case Erica decided to pounce on her father with both feet, convincing him to kick Charlie to the curb.
Papers slapped on the desk in front of him.
“Anything else?” Brenda’s lips pursed together like a duck’s bill. He blinked, twice.
“No, thanks.” At least nothing she could help with. He skimmed through the paperwork.
Total silence. Except for Brenda’s groan. He overlooked it.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m sick.”
He glanced up, saw her red nose.” Sorry, I hadn’t noticed. Hope you’ll feel better soon.” Caring enough, he thought.
“That’s right, Charlie, you don’t notice much anymore.” She glared down at him.
Tapestry of Trust Page 4