Love's Haven (16 page)

As she sat in the chrome-and-gold bathroom, Mara tried to pray through the situation. But she found that as usual lately, she could only mouth a desperate plea for God’s help. Her prayers seemed to go as high as the marble-tiled ceiling and stop cold. What was wrong? She knew from experience and faith that God hadn’t abandoned her. Had she done something to place a barrier between herself and her Lord? Was it the marriage to Brock? Was it her human desire for a man’s
touch? Or was there something else in her life that she needed to examine, confess and turn over to Christ?

Mara attempted to turn her thoughts to Todd. Instead she tasted her betrayal of her late husband in Brock’s arms. When she made the effort to focus on Abby, she pictured her daughter gurgling happily as Brock cooked breakfast.

The only way out, Mara finally decided, was literal escape. She would insist on a job with the fort project. If she could earn even a small income, she could rent an apartment in Las Cruces. She could take Abby on-site at Fort Selden. Or—as much as she hated the thought—she could leave the baby at the church day-care center. Mara would give herself a month to work out the details.

During that time, she would do her best to ignore Brock. She could have her meals brought to her room. She could spend her days in Las Cruces attending to details of the restoration project. Brock would be out on the ranch somewhere, anyway. It could be done. She had no choice.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she drew a deep breath. Brock stepped from the shadows and slipped his arm around her shoulders.

“You feeling okay, Mara?” he asked. “You’ve been in there for quite a while.”

Startled by his unexpected presence, she shrugged out of his arm and stepped to one side. Had he been waiting for her all this time? She felt like a wary rabbit around a hungry wolf.

“It’s getting late,” she said. “Can we go home?”

Brock looked her up and down, a concerned expression on his face. “You look too thin, too pale. Have you been sick?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Are you worried about the baby? Or did Sandy say something to you?”

“Really, Brock, it’s all right.” She hugged herself, unable to meet his gaze.

“Let’s get your coat,” he said, taking her elbow. Again, she edged away as he walked beside her toward the foyer. “How’s Abby?”

“Ramona put her to bed a couple of hours ago.”

“Everyone still at the house?”

“They’ve all gone home but Ramona. She said she’d be happy to stay until we got back.”

In the foyer, Brock tried to help Mara into her coat, but she took it from him and put it on herself. She avoided his eyes and kept her mouth shut tight. She would not say anything to Brock, she decided. Nothing. Then she would be safe.

As she thanked Joe for the party, she buttoned her coat clear up to her chin.

“You seemed to hit it off with Stephanie,” Brock said on the way to the car. Before she could get to it, he grabbed the handle and pulled open the door. “She’s a nice lady.”

“She’s a real estate agent, you know.” Mara glanced at him as she slid into her seat. “She thinks she can find me an apartment.”

Pulling the door shut on him, she turned her attention to the swirling snow. It was important to re-establish the barrier, she reminded herself as she watched him stride around to his side. If he had any thoughts of resuming their previous conversation in the car, she intended to squelch them. In fact, she probably should tell him exactly what she intended to do with her future. If that made him want to sever his financial commitments to Abby, so be it.

Brock climbed into the car and started the engine. As he pulled out onto the street, he spoke. “You’re moving out of the ranch house?”

“I’m going to start looking for a place of my own.”

“Did Sandy put something in your head? She can be pretty hostile.”

Mara shook her head. “It was no big deal. She implied that I’m a kept woman.”

Brock bit off an expletive.

“Stephanie set her straight,” Mara said. “Sandy was tipsy, and everyone knew it. I’m not worried.”

“I’d have set her straight if you hadn’t kept dancing away from me all night.”

“I wasn’t dancing. You were stalking.”

“I was under the impression we had come to this shindig as a duo. It seemed appropriate to at least get within your range of vision once in a while. You are my wife.”

“Please, Brock, don’t—”

“How soon do you expect to move out?”

“It’s time now. I’m back on my feet physically. I can get a job either with the fort project or somewhere else.”

“What’s the point? You’ve got a place to stay. You’ve got food, money, transportation. Why move?”

“You know why.”

“Are you planning to run from the truth the rest of your life, Mara?”

“I’m not running from anything.”

“You ran from me all night. You hid in the bathroom so you wouldn’t have to face me.”

“I needed to be alone. I had to pray. And think. I decided it’s time to move away from the ranch.”

“God told you that?”

“No. I can hardly focus on Him anymore. Things are so confusing. I can’t even seem to pray right these days.”

“It’s that big old lump of bitterness stuck in your throat. It’s got you all stopped up.”

“I’m not bitter!”

“Oh, really? Then how come you won’t forgive me? Why are you running from me?”

“I’m not running from you, Brock. I’m stepping into my own future.”

“You’re running from me and everything in your past. You lost your parents. You lost Todd. You’re not about to let anyone else into your life, just in case you might lose him, too. Am I right?”

Mara clenched her fists inside the pockets of her coat. She felt trapped by this man. Trapped by his words. Trapped by her own desire for him. Again, she tried to turn her thoughts to something else, something less upsetting. Abby was probably awake and needing to nurse. Ramona would need to go home and rest for her family’s Christmas celebrations. Ermaline…Rosa Maria…Todd…

No, she couldn’t make anything stay in her mind. Not even Todd. For the first time since his death, she wanted her husband’s memory to release her. She wanted freedom from the turmoil. She wanted to stop hurting, to enjoy life, to feel her own feelings again without guilt and bitterness weighing her down.

Brock was right. He was the man she wanted…even though she felt certain his words were hollow and his desire for her had no depth.

“Am I right?” Brock repeated. “You’re running from the past. You’re running from the future. You’re even running from the present. From God. From me. You don’t have the guts to find out what’s going on between us.”

Mara glared at him. “I’m no coward, Brock Barnett. If I’m running from you, it’s because I have every reason to keep my distance. You want to know how I felt about you in the beginning? From the first time I met you—at that gallery—I didn’t trust you. I still don’t.”

The muscle in his jaw worked as he steered the car through the driving snow that had begun to make the dark highway slick. She had pulled out her ammunition, and she knew it was going to hurt. But she didn’t care. He deserved it.

“If I had to hide in the bathroom tonight,” she snapped, “it’s because you’re a predator. You always have
been. I don’t want to be tracked down. I don’t want to be devoured like Stephanie and Sandy and every other woman you’ve worn on your arm.”

“What makes you so sure I’d devour you? Have I taken advantage of you? Have I gone back on my word?”

“No, but you have a lousy track record. Stephanie told me you’ve gone out with nearly every woman at that party, and you’ve left a trail of broken hearts. When Todd was alive, you had a different woman every time we saw you. You’re not a long-term—”

“No, I’m not Todd. I didn’t grow up in a solid home, or on the first day of college meet the woman I knew I wanted to marry. My world was a split-up family and a father who couldn’t commit to anyone. Except for Todd, my circle of friends played the dating game endlessly. And don’t believe Stephanie and Sandy aren’t using their wiles to play along just like Joe and Travis and every other single person at that party tonight. It’s a game, and I won’t deny I played it, Mara.”

“Well, I don’t want to play.”

“Maybe I don’t want to play anymore, either.”

“Maybe, or maybe not. Like I said—I don’t trust you.”

“What do I have to do?” He pulled the car over to the shoulder of the highway, stuck the gearshift in neutral, and jerked up on the emergency brake. Turning to her, he took her shoulders. “Mara, your mouth is saying one thing and your eyes are telling me something else. Forget the past and the future. I want the truth right now.”

She stared at him, terrified she would blurt out everything that had built up inside her. If he came any closer…if he leaned toward her…

“I’m going for a walk,” she whispered.

She threw open the car door, letting in a rush of frigid air and snowflakes. Gasping with the cold, she stepped out into the darkness and slammed the door shut behind her.
She shivered and buried her hands in her pockets. Her body told her she needed to nurse Abby. Her heart told her she was a fool. If only she were home.

Home? Did she even have a home? Mara shook her head. Brock had given her his home. Why had she been so harsh with him? Maybe it was because she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. She was bitter. She had been running from the past. More important, she was running from him.

Even as she felt chagrined for hurling words of doubt at him, she heard Stephanie’s voice.
If he fixes his sights on someone, she’d better look out. It’s like he has this uncanny sense for knowing what will make a woman melt. Once he has her in the palm of his hand, he loses interest.
Had Brock fixed his sights on her? Would he use her up and then discard her?

Why not? He had admitted he wasn’t like Todd. He had played with women’s hearts his whole adulthood. Why would it be different with Mara?

Huge flakes of snow drifted out of the black sky as though a feather pillow had burst. The highway was completely dark. No trucks blasted past. No cars traveled this late on Christmas Eve. Everyone was tucked away in warm houses, wrapping presents and happily anticipating the next morning.

Behind her on the sloping shoulder of the road, Mara made out the black form of the silent Jaguar. Inside it she could see Brock’s dark silhouette. He seemed to be staring off into the night, his gaze fixed on the falling snow. Her feet damp in the ankle-deep snow, Mara shifted uncomfortably. She shouldn’t have shouted. She shouldn’t have cut him with her words.

She was angry. Bitter. Unforgiving.

Was that the barrier she had erected between herself and God? Was that why her prayers went nowhere?

With a sinking sense of truth, Mara realized she had been lying not only to herself and Brock, but to God. What was right? What was wrong? How could she face her own feelings when they seemed so unacceptable?

If she were honest, she would have to admit that she had felt a connection between Brock and herself from the day they first met. She had thought him handsome, as most women did. But it was more than that. The interest in Southwest history, architecture and Native Americans that united Todd and Brock drew Mara as well. But it was more than that, too.

Mara couldn’t define the connection she felt with Brock. She had never wanted to and had never tried. But somehow, in all they had gone through with Todd and then Abby, that connection had turned to attraction. Yes, she had wanted his kiss that morning at the trading post. She wanted it now, which was why she couldn’t go back to the car.

Again, she glanced at the shiny contours of the Jaguar. Brock was sitting in the utter stillness of the night as snow collected on the hood and roof. If only the man would evaporate. But Brock wouldn’t go away any more than her desire for him would. He would always be there waiting for her, tall, volatile…and very warm beneath his black leather coat.

Her heart hammering in her ears, Mara squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.
Lord, what am I supposed to do? Why won’t You answer me?

She waited, fighting tears, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Bitterness.
Okay, Lord,
she prayed.
I forgive Brock Barnett for taking Todd up that cliff to his death. Will You please forgive me for holding that against him? And will You forgive me for marrying him when I should have been more trusting in You? And will You please, please help me!

Mara stood in the silence, and she knew her first sense of peace in many months. God was with her. Jesus had already taken her sin to the cross. The Holy Spirit dwelled inside her. He would be her comforter, her counselor, her guide.

And yes, she would go back to the car. She would go back because, in spite of everything, she wanted to be with Brock.

She moved her feet through the deep snow. Dampness seeped over her shoes and into the soft cotton of her red socks as she walked toward the car. Her coat hem drifted at her knees. Her teeth chattered.

“Mara.”

At his voice, she lifted her head. Startled to find him so close, she realized he had left the car and come to meet her.

“Mara, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice ragged. “I’m pushing, I know that.”

“No, it’s me,” she replied. “You were right. I’ve been running from everything.”

“Whether you can believe this or not, I have tried to hold back. I’ve tried hard.”

“I know.”

“Please don’t run from me anymore, Mara.”

She trembled inside her wet shoes as he lifted his hand to a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail. At his slight touch, her heart began to gallop, and her breath grew shallow. In the darkness, she could just make out the outline of his mouth, and she could feel his eyes on her face.

“Brock, I have to get away from you,” she said, as tears welled. “I have to.”

His fingers closed on her shoulder. “Don’t run, Mara.”

“Please, don’t try to keep me.”

“Don’t run from us, Mara.”

She shook her head as his hands slipped around her and pulled her against him. “Brock, I can’t trust—”

“Don’t run.”