Reclaimed (13 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The nutty aroma of a fresh brew beckoned Suzanna to her kitchen. Ten o’clock in the morning. She’d hoped Paul would drop by this morning. He was becoming quite a regular at her table. There must be magic in those coffee beans.

Suited her fine. She needed his help sorting out whatever Daddy had been after. She didn’t know about bovines anymore than she’d known about cancer, but she could learn. This education promised to be much less demanding of her heart.

A blue truck passed by her kitchen window. A smile tickled upward, and Suzanna reached for another mug.

She glanced out the window again as she moved to the coffee pot. The truck was the wrong blue. She moved to the smaller side window and inspected the truck in her driveway. Paul drove a midnight blue truck. The one outside her window was electric blue, chrome shined to the point of vanity.

Chuck Stanton planted his glossy boots on her dusty drive. Sliding his hat over his slicked hair, he spat on her driveway as he made for her side door.

Guys like that ought to use the front.

Suzanna slid the mug back onto the countertop and scowled at the door. Waiting for Stanton’s knock felt like waiting for a snake to strike. She wasn’t about to.

She had herself outside and the door shut behind her before he made it to the gate.

“Morning, Miss Wilton.” He smiled, his pack of chaw bulging in his left cheek. Another stream of spit blackened her sidewalk. “Thought I’d drive out to check on you. We are neighbors, you know.”

She crossed her arms. “So I’ve heard.”

“Everything all right round here?”

“Fine.”

“Haven’t run into anymore trouble?” His eyes flashed with malice.

She shifted, forcing her back straight. He wouldn’t intimidate her. At least she wouldn’t let him see it. “None at all.”

He nodded, his grin making her flesh prickle. “Hope it stays that way.”

Suzanna clenched her jaw. Something hard and hot caught in her chest, and she tried to swallow it down. “Don’t see why it wouldn’t.”

“Can I come in?”

Absolutely not.

“I’d rather you didn’t. The house is a wreck.”

Chuck shifted, pulling his torso to its maximum potential. Goodness, the man was big. A shiver ran down Suzanna’s spine.

“I think it’s time you negotiate, Suzie.”

Suzie? So much for endearing nicknames. She hated the sound of her daddy’s pet name coming off his snarling lips.

“My friends call me Suzanna, Mr. Stanton, but Miss Wilton will work for you.” She shoved her hands on her hips and stretched her neck. She couldn’t match his build, but she sure wasn’t going to crumble under his harassment. “The place isn’t for sale. Just like it wasn’t last month. And it won’t be the next, either. I’m not moving.”

He took a step toward her. “I’m not a very patient man, Suzie.”

The darkness of his glare pressed down on her like granite. Sweat beaded at her hairline, and she couldn’t slow her throbbing heart.

“It doesn’t matter.” She pushed the words past her closing throat. “I’m not selling.”

Chuck dropped his eyebrows. He opened his mouth, but closed it when the sound of a truck kicking up gravel rumbled from up the road.

Suzanna’s eyes darted toward the creek, and relief drained the rigid fear. Paul slowed as he approached her house, and the nose of his truck came off the road.

“We’ll see about that.” Chuck demanded her attention again. He backed away, clearing his throat as he moved.

Paul killed the engine and dropped out of his cab, slamming the door. “Morning, Suzanna.” He pulled at the brim of his hat. “Chuck.”

Suzanna forced her feet to stay still. She wasn’t eight, and she couldn’t run to Paul like she did to her daddy when the boys were mean to her in Sunday school.

But her heart sure wanted to.

Tractors are notorious for breaking down. All the time. Paul thought he had the parts he needed for his Deere, but he couldn’t find the blasted hydraulic hose fitting in any of his backup supplies. Off to town he went, begrudging an entire morning wasted on the errand.

Maybe God had hid the spare part.

Pulling up to Suzanna’s, Paul knew which wannabe cowboy was parked in her driveway. Towering over her like a cat over a wounded finch, Stanton was relentless. Why did he have his mind set on her property?

Water rights? What a flimsy cover. He didn’t need them, and Chuck Stanton didn’t give a salt’s worth of care for the concern and well-being of his neighbors. He had them all gung ho to get rid of Suzanna under false pretenses. Convinced them she’d dam up the spring and divvy out the water according to a selfish whim. What was the motive behind his façade?

He caught Suzanna’s eyes as he walked toward the pair, and a fireball burned in his gut. She looked like she did when she stood at the top of her basement stairway. Scared. Paul walked to the gate, positioning himself between Chuck and Suzanna.

“What brings you out this way, Stanton?”

“Thinking about Suzie here.” Chuck looped his thumbs in his jeans and rocked back on his heels. “Came to see that all is well ’round her place.”

I’ll bet.
Paul glanced down his shoulder at Suzanna. She held herself stiffly, and her chin came up.

“Bet you found everything’s just fine.” Paul crossed his arms. “Suzanna’s right capable.”

Chuck smirked. “Yep. Seems she’s got all the help she needs.” He pierced Paul with a cold stare.

Paul glared back, the muscles in his arms growing stiff. “I’m sure a busy banker such as yourself has plenty to do on a Monday morning.”

“Plenty.” Chuck sent a stream of black spit near Paul’s boot. “Suzie, you have a good day now. Remember, my offer still stands.”

He swaggered away and tipped his hat as he slid into his pickup. The engine roared to life, and he revved it before he backed out of the drive.

Scoundrel.

Paul looked back at Suzanna. Her eyes fixed on him, round and watery. He reached over the gate and pulled her shoulders against him. She leaned into his chest.

“What was his offer?” Paul rubbed her arm.

“It wasn’t an offer.” Anger punched her words. She straightened her frame, and her mouth formed a hard line.

Heat poured through him. Squaring to her, Paul gripped her arms. “Did he threaten you?”

She stared at his chest. “Not with his words.”

Every muscle tensed. He wrapped her wooden frame close, wishing he knew what to say.

“Suzanna.” Mrs. Rustin put a warm hand on her elbow. “How ’bout this. I was just thinking about you this morning, and now we’re out shopping at the same time. Must be God.”

No wonder Paul and Andrea were so kind. Their mother was a doll. Suzanna felt her smile lift her cheeks and smooth her furrowed brow. How long had her face been strained? Easing her frown felt like a spiritual lift.

“Thank you.” Suzanna patted the hand still resting on her arm. “That’s so sweet.”

“Not sweet, I think,” Mrs. Rustin said. “’Twas the Spirit. Pressed on me powerful this morning to pray for you. Was there a reason?”

Suzanna skimmed over the morning’s events, and her smile faded. Yeah, there was a reason. She was terrified of Chuck Stanton. Now more than ever. What was the man capable of?

“I had a few hiccups this morning.” Suzanna glossed over the confrontation. Anger had a way of seeping from her pores, and she didn’t want lovely Mrs. Rustin to see it. What if she told her grown children to keep away because Suzanna Wilton was a bad apple? She’d lose her only friends in Rock Creek.

Not a price she could afford.

Mrs. Rustin nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I trust God ironed them out.”

Had he? Was it possible Mrs. Rustin’s prayer had sent Paul to her rescue at just the right time?

Since when did God come to her rescue? That was not the god Suzanna knew. She knew an aloof power who did not waste his efforts on the trivial, and not-so-trivial, struggles in life. A god whose heart didn’t care about the people he’d made.

“It worked out.” Was that a lie? Paul had rescued her—for the moment. Chuck Stanton was not going to let up, though, and his implied threats still rippled dread down her spine.

“Good. God is faithful, darlin’. Even when it doesn’t look like it, He is.” Mrs. Rustin squeezed her arm again. “Listen, sweetie. I’m meeting Andrea and the kids over at the park. I think you should come along. Andrea was just lamenting how she hadn’t seen you all week.”

Suzanna swallowed. She hadn’t gone to church yesterday. She felt guilty about it, especially if Mrs. Rustin had planned on her for dinner, but she couldn’t make herself go.

Two years. Jason’s face swam across her vision. The face of the healthy young man who’d taken her to her senior prom. The face she preferred to remember.

“I’d love to come.” Suzanna ignored the stinging in her nose. She could use the distraction. “What shall I bring?”

“Whatever you want, Suz.” Mrs. Rustin smiled. “Dre was going to pack sandwiches for the kids. They’re always hungry after school, and I was going to grab something from the deli for myself. It’s a fend-for-yourself kind of picnic.”

Suzanna nodded, a mild grin pulling at her lips again. Fend for yourself. She was pretty well practiced at that.

Mrs. Rustin pushed her cart on down the bread aisle, and Suzanna moseyed on her way. The fall afternoon was perfect for a picnic. Cool temps, the wind held to a mild breeze, and an autumn pallet promised peace.

Maybe today she would find rest.