Above Rubies (Rockland Ranch) (14 page)

             
Finally, he asked, “Is Kit any better this morning?”

             
She finished chewing her bite and swallowed.  “She’s okay, I think.  Unless you look into her eyes.”

             
After another bite or two she glanced over at him.  “She looks better than you.  She’s at least trying to fake happy.  You just look ticked.  If you don’t mind my saying so.”  She smiled sweetly.

             
“I am ticked.  That’s exactly what I am.  My whole life I’ve tried to do what I’ve been asked and be a good example.  I followed the plan to the letter.  Group date, single date, mission, college—the whole bit.  Where has it gotten me?”   He toyed with his spoon.  “I had a shoe box full of women’s numbers just like Slade’s that Isabel gave the guys at Christmas.  I’ve turned down a gob of trashy women over the last three years rodeoing.”  He pushed his bowl aside roughly.  “Listen to me.  I sound like a pouty baby.

             
“Do you know what I spent half of last night doing?  Trying to talk myself into wanting to go meet girls.”  His voice was deeply bitter.  “I’ve tried, Mom.  I’ve honestly tried to do what I thought I should.  Now I feel like I’ve been cheated for being a good Samaritan.  Cursed by a sweet, beautiful, smart, cruel joke.  I never thought I’d be mad at God, but I think I am.  He’s in control.  He could’ve helped me.  You’re right.  I am ticked.  Royally ticked!”

             
He smiled ruefully and finished humbly, “So now I feel ticked, and guilty for feeling ticked.”

             
Naomi still had no answers and she placed her hand over his in silence.

             
Rossen’s voice softened, “She could have used a friend these last few days, but I’ve spent so much time trying to keep her at arms’ length that she won’t even talk to me.  She seems more alone now than when we first picked her up.  And I can’t blame her.  I feel like Jekyll and Hyde.  I catch myself enjoying her company, or noticing how she looks, or how smart she is, then I feel instant remorse, and fall all over myself trying to keep my distance.  It’s killing me, and it’s not working anyway.  I love her more than ever.  I can’t even imagine what my moods are doing to her.”

             
He stood to walk to the window again.  Finally he turned.  “Well?”

             
“Well, what?”

             
“Come on, Mom.  You’re the parent.  Where’s the wise counsel?  The ‘mother knows everything’ solution?  I could really use one about now.”

             
Naomi was slow to reply, “I don’t know how to make you not love her, Rossen.  She’s very loveable.  And I have no idea how to make you want to go out and date.  I’m sorry to let you down.  But I can tell you not to give up on God.  It’s not that He’s not helping you right now.  It’s just that we don’t understand His plan at the moment.  I think He understands your anger.  What He won’t understand, is if you don’t trust Him through it.  He’s never failed you.  He’s not going to start now, even though it feels like it.

             
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d need a refiner’s fire, but what do I know?  Maybe it’s as simple as choosing you because you’re the only man strong enough to be selfless and resist her for her own good.  That’s my theory.  No other man could be around her and realize how beautiful, and smart, and talented she is, and still allow her to finish growing up.  God knew she needed your goodness, and self control, and strength to give her the time and freedom she needs to reach her full potential.”

             
A shadow of Rossen’s true smile showed up.  “Now you’re really making me feel like a shmuck.” 

             
She laughed.  “That’s what you get when you ask for mothers to know everything.”

             
She walked over and embraced him.  “Now that we’ve got the answers to the universe figured out, help me figure out what happened to Kit at church.  I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m sure that’s when this all started.”

             
He considered this at length and decided she was right.  It had been at church.  “Great!  Leave it to us Christians to thrash her before she even has a chance to figure the gospel out.”

             
Naomi mused, “Yes and no.  Somebody has done something to hurt her, but you’re deluding yourself if you think she hasn’t got it figured out.  She’s done an unbelievable amount of research you have no idea about, and she’s got a photographic memory.  I daresay if it’s something you can pick up from a book, or a website, she understands it.  She just doesn’t feel like she can let on, because it kind of freaks you out.  Those are her words, by the way.”

             
Rossen turned to stare at his mother.  He mentally started to squirm when he remembered hassling Kit about fruit those weeks before.  She hadn’t said a word to him about the church since, and he’d assumed he’d been right about her jumping the gun knowing what she was getting into.  It took him a minute or two of sorting through various conversations, before his mom’s reference to a photographic memory clicked in.  She must have seen the lights come on in his head, as he thought back over the past weeks of working beside Kit in his office.

             
“Holy cow!”  His voice held a note of reverence.

             
Naomi cautioned, “And don’t you make her feel self-conscious about it.  She already feels she needs to hide it to fit into society.  Don’t make her think she can’t be herself around you.  Her self-esteem doesn’t need any more trashing.”

             
“Mother, it’s a gift, not a flaw.  Give me a little credit.”

             
She put her bowl and spoon in the dishwasher and picked up her car keys.  “I give you more credit than you’ll ever know.  Now change out of that smelly tux and come home and help Kit.  She needs you.”  She hugged him and walked out the door.

             
As the latch clicked behind her he repeated, “Smelly tux . . .  What’s she . . .  ”  He raised his arm.  “Smelly tux.” 

             
Rossen showered, put on a turtleneck and ski sweater and by the time he was ready to go, he was also ready to hit his knees and pray.  A part of his prayer was a big thank you for his wonderful mother who was willing to leave the ninety and nine so to speak and go in search of him, her lost sheep, and smooth out all his wrinkles.  He smiled remembering her sitting beside him eating Wheaties.  She hated Wheaties. 

             
The balance of his prayer was devoted to asking forgiveness for his discouragement and asking for wisdom and peace in his relationship with Kit.

             
He got off his knees not knowing what he should do, but having faith that the Spirit would guide him.  One thing he felt for sure was that he should be more emotionally honest.  At least with himself, if not her.  He needed to remember that his goal was not to not fall in love with her, but to not do things that would keep her from spreading her wings.  He was already in love with her, so that was a moot point. 

             
On his way to the truck he took a load of his stuff, wishing he’d finished building the house he’d designed, and had had drawn up and engineered.  He’d bought the ground from his dad to build it on years ago, but had felt like having all three of him, Slade and Sean live in their own houses by themselves, was overkill, and had put off building.  Slade and Isabel had both encouraged him to stay with them, but he intended to be completely moved out by the time they returned next week anyway.  They needed to have their home to themselves.  He could go stay with Sean in his house, but opted instead for his old room in the basement of his parents’, telling himself it made more sense to be near his office. 

             
He came into the house out of the garage, his arms full, just in time to tell the departing college bunch goodbye.  They joked and teased and slammed out the door and as he began to load his things into his old room, he felt like he’d walked through a brisk wind.

             
He set his stuff down and went straight upstairs to his dad’s office to find Kit.  She wasn’t there, so he went up to look in her studio. 

             
He found her there so engrossed in her clay she didn’t even hear him come in.  He leaned against a counter and folded his arms, fascinated at watching her work.  She’d pulled her hair up into a haphazard knot on top of her head and was wearing an old button down he recognized from college over her clothes.  It was huge on her and even though she'd rolled the sleeves up several times, it still hung past her elbows. 

             
She’d covered her cast with a rubber glove she’d cut the fingers out of.  He wondered why she didn’t just work in full gloves, but as he watched, he realized what she was doing was all tactile.  Her small brown hands were covered in the slick clay and she pushed and smoothed with an almost sensual touch.  Her dark head would bend over her work and then rise to move around to another angle.  Strands of loose hair slipped across her lips and this time when he thought about her mouth, he just let the thought be, instead of shying away like a frightened colt.  Immediately, he was more comfortable with her and knew his idea to be emotionally honest was right.

             
He heard himself take a deep breath and she abruptly turned to look in his direction, her blue eyes wide.

             
“Oh, Rossen!  You scared me!”  She went to put her hand to her chest, but then looked at them and thought better of it.  “What are you doing here?”

             
At that moment he decided to be forthright and see how it went.  “I’ve made up my mind to haunt you until you talk to me about whatever it was that happened to you in church.”

             
Her eyes flew to his, and for just a split second, he thought she was going to tell him, but then the sadness shuttered her eyes and she turned back to her clay. 

             
She didn’t look up as she asked, “Oh you have?  What makes you think something happened to me at church?” 

             
“Hmm.  An educated guess maybe.”  He could have said the fact that she hadn’t smiled in a week, but he didn’t. 

He actually got a break much sooner than he thought he would
, when he suggested they get out of the house and go have some lunch in town somewhere.  He was hoping simply to have enough privacy to be able to really talk, but he began to get the picture when she looked squarely at him for a moment as if trying to read his mind, and then commented, “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”  She glanced up at him again.  “Being seen with me in public might not be very good for your reputation.”

             
She went back to focusing on the clay under her hands, while the wheels in his head began to turn.  Someone at church had insinuated, or possibly worse, something about her that could involve his reputation.  Her line of thinking was pretty transparent and a face popped into his head as he tried to picture what might have occurred.

             
“How about if you let me worry about my reputation?”

             
“Fine, but I’ll help.”  They were both silent for several minutes while she smoothed the clay.  Then she abruptly smashed the figure she was working on.  She pushed the clay back into a ball and began kneading it under her palms like bread dough, adding drops of water occasionally from a nearby sponge.

             
He asked, “Are you turning me down flat?”

             
She slapped the clay against the table.  “Yup.”  She sounded okay, but she brushed at a tear with the back of a clay covered hand and a second later another one dropped and splashed across the now smooth round lump of clay on the table. 

             
He took two long steps over to her and almost pushed himself between her and the table.  “Why?”  He took her chin gently in his fingers to raise her face to look at him.  He repeated his question.  “Why?”

             
She pulled away and stepped around him to pick up the clay.  “It’s probably just not the best idea.  That’s all.”  She carefully wrapped the clay in a couple of layers of plastic and set it aside with the other bags.  Then she pulled several wet wipes out of a nearby carton and proceeded to painstakingly clean the table top and her hands. 

             
When she finally quit scrubbing, she went to a bottle of hand lotion and began to rub a generous amount into her hands.  He pulled another wipe from the carton, tipped her chin up again and began to gently remove the clay smudge from where she had wiped at a tear with the back of her hand. 

             
“So, then what are you going to do now?”  He leaned against the counter again.

             
She hesitated before she asked, “Why?”

             
He smiled a lazy smile as he folded his arms across his chest.  “Well, if you won’t go to lunch with me, I was just wondering where I need to go next to continue to haunt you.” 

             
She took his big shirt off and folded it nervously.  “I’m not sure, actually.  I should be doing my English, but I wasn’t much in the mood for it earlier.  What I’d like to do is go outside, but I get so cold here.  I guess I’ll just go see what your mom needs help with this morning.  We were going to take Isabel’s stuff over to Slade’s for her before they get back.”