Reclaimed (22 page)

“Let’s go.” Paul dropped his hand and nodded toward the door.

She bit her lip and pulled her eyebrows in.

Paul sighed. “Suzie…” He stared at the building.

Suzie...
She liked the way her dad’s name for her came off his lips. Almost as much as she liked when he called her Pickle.

“We’re friends. No matter what Chuck does or says, you and I are friends.” Paul turned his eyes back to hers. “I just wanted you to know.”

That was strange. And cryptic. She pushed a curl behind one ear. “Okay… is there something I should know?”

Lines creased his forehead. Thought lines. He put a hand to her elbow and set his feet in motion. “We’re going to be late.”

Suzanna had a strong suspicion he didn’t want to go at all.

He should have warned Dre and Tom—Suzanna, too, for that matter. It would have been better, but Paul hadn’t been able to form the words. Walking in together, his hand wrapped protectively—possessively—around her arm hadn’t been the most helpful move, either.

“Need to talk to you.” Tom leaned in as they shook hands. “Now.”

Paul nodded and then glanced at Dre. She caught his eyes and answered his silent plea. She’d stay with Suzanna.

When they were safely alone in a classroom, Tom cut to the chase. “There’s a rumor ablaze.”

“I know.” Paul rubbed his neck.

Tom studied him, his eyebrows low.

Paul dropped his hand and stood tall. “You know it’s not true.”

“Yes, I know. Dre and I both know. But—”

“But you were afraid maybe it was?”

Tom dropped his eyes. Heat put color in his sun-weathered cheeks. “Not really, but… well, maybe just a little.” He pulled his face back up. “It’s gotta be hard. You’ve been single for so long, and well, Dre and I can see you like her.”

“I do”—Paul pulled at his collar and forced a deep breath—“but I’ve never even held her hand, kissed her, anything. She doesn’t even know I want to. Now I can’t. This will shred every little scrap of trust between us. Trust that I… that we… you, Dre, and I have had to work to win.”

“Why doesn’t she know?”

“How was I supposed to tell her?” Paul spread his hands wide. “Hey, you know that guy you can’t stand who’s been horrible to you and I wouldn’t let you trash his lawn? Well, here’s a heads-up. He’s telling everyone we’re sleeping together.”

Tom chuckled.

“Clearly, I’m not a wordsmith,” Paul said.

“Well, that maybe would have worked, but that’s not what I meant. Why doesn’t she know you’re interested in her?”

“Um, have you met Suzanna Wilton?” Paul cocked an eyebrow. “She’s complicated.”

“Most women are.” Tom clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve been out of the game for a while now, but I’m pretty sure it still starts with a date. ‘Suzanna, can I take you to dinner?’ Or maybe you should call her Pickle. She seems to like that.”

She did? So far off the subject. “Well, thanks for that, but now I can’t, so it’s not helpful.”

“Why?”

“Hello? Why did you bring me in here to chat?”

“You’re really going to let Chuck control your life?”

“It’ll look bad—worse than what it looks like already.” Paul rubbed his head. He could only imagine what kind of story Chuck had fed to Shelby.
Hear that your pickup has been spotted in Suzanna's drive pretty early in the morning.

How did he know that? The only people who would drive out that way at that time of day were Tom and Dre. Clearly, they weren’t raising suspicion.

“The way I see it”—Tom interrupted Paul’s thoughts—“it can’t get any worse. In the end, people always believe what they want to believe. Might be helpful to Suzanna to know you care. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone in the world.”

“I’m going home.” Suzanna wouldn’t allow her lip to quiver. She cleared her throat, demanding her voice behave.

Andrea reached for her hand and squeezed. “Please, Suz. At least come out for dessert.”

Shelby Stanton burst from the church arm in arm with a woman Suzanna recognized from the bank. She caught their contemptuous looks as they crossed to their cars. Forcing her eyes away, she took in the earnest face of her friend. They’d been so kind. All of Paul’s family. And she hadn’t deserved it.

Especially Paul. She’d been absolutely horrid to him. Now his reputation was charred. Blackened by a friendship he’d never been obligated to extend in the first place.

Disobedient tears burned her eyes and slithered down the side of her nose. “I can’t, Dre.” She wiped at the stream. “I can’t do this to your family.”

Andrea pulled her into an embrace. “You didn’t do this. We know Paul. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

But you don’t know me.
God, why do you dangle love in my face only to rip it away? Why do you hate me?

Suzanna clenched her jaw and pulled away. “I’m really not up for anything today. Thank you, Andrea. I’m going home.”

TWENTY-ONE

Paul’s intent to stay by Suzanna’s side throughout the whole miserable morning was sabotaged.

Pastor Ron wanted a word with him. Man, a juicy piece of slander traveled faster than a spooked horse. Before Paul could trail Suzanna out of the sanctuary, Pastor had a hand on his cuff.

“There’s a story spreading around like a prairie fire.” Pastor spoke with questions in his eyes.

“I know.” Paul shifted his Bible, anger nipping his words.

“I assume there isn’t any truth to it, but I wanted to ask straight out.”

“None. We’re not even dating.”

Pastor nodded, but his gaze still puckered. “Something is going on though.”

Paul’s spine snapped straight. “What does that mean?”

“You’ve been at the top of the most-admired-bachelor list for a long time, Paul.” He dropped into his cushioned desk chair and leaned back to gaze up at Paul. “I mean no offense and understand why you’re upset, but something had to have provoked this tale.”

Paul shoved a hand into his pocket. “Someone’s mad at me, plain and simple.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No, I don’t think that’ll help. Makes me no better than him.”

Pastor cocked an eyebrow.

“Look, I’m sure you’ve heard other stuff about Suzanna—about how she planned to dam up the spring at her property line?”

He nodded, his look growing more concerned.

Paul eased into the chair across from Pastor’s desk. “Well, that one isn’t true, either. Anyway, I stood by Suzanna when this guy tried to intimidate her, and he’s mad about it. It’s all very junior high.”

Pastor scowled. “What does this person have against Miss Wilton?”

Paul’s jaw went tight. “Greed. Green and ugly and as old as sin itself. He offered to buy her land, and she said no.”

“Surely there’s more?”

“Don’t know.” Paul rubbed his eyebrows as a dull ache expanded in his head. “I thought so for a while, but now… well, I think it’s just plain old selfishness. Wants that green piece of pasture and can’t stand that she said no. He doesn’t hear that very often.”

Pastor Ron folded his hands and laid them on his desk. His eyes drifted to the side window of his office, and his expression remained thoughtful.

“Don’t know Suzanna Wilton beyond her face—I haven’t had a chance to visit with her. Need to, but with my dad moving into a care facility, and the time spent driving to make sure it all goes okay—well, I just haven’t done what I need to do around here.”

Strange response. Sort of sounded like an excuse. Why would Pastor Ron need to offer an excuse?

Pastor’s attention came back. “Seems a shy woman.”

“Life has dealt her some tough blows. She comes across as cold. But—”

“She’s not.”

Paul nodded. “She’s pretty much alone in the world. I think it makes her guarded, but she’s actually kind, and under her armor, she has a good heart.”

“Is she a believer?”

What was with the interview?

“I think so. Her dad, Mike Wilton, had been a pastor before he moved here.”

Pastor Ron pulled on his chin. “Yes. I knew Mike. We visited often.”

The office suddenly went still. Paul was missing something—something important. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to figure out how to ask about something he couldn’t identify.

“You seem to have a bond with her, Paul.”

Huh? Oh, back to Suzanna again. Where was Pastor’s aim in all this?

Paul cleared his throat. “I’m her neighbor.”

Pastor’s head dipped slowly. “Yes.”

Quiet resettled between them. This was getting more uncomfortable with every breath. Paul put his hands on his knees, ready to rise and retreat.

Pastor reached a hand across the desk. “Paul, I’m sorry. That must have come off as an accusation, which was not my intent. Actually, I was thinking you shouldn’t let this rumor hinder something deeper, if there are feelings between you two. But… well, to say it plainly, be sure first. Like I said, I knew Mike, and he talked a bit about his daughter. You’re right; life’s taken her into the ring a few times. It wouldn’t be fair for you to pursue her if you weren’t sure about where you were going.”

Twice in one day? He must read like a Dr. Seuss book.

Paul took to his feet and accepted Pastor’s outstretched hand. “Thank you, sir.”

“No need.” Pastor squeezed. “And just so you know, I’m still endorsing your candidacy for elder. It’ll come from the pulpit next week, and people will see where I stand in this messy little story.” His head moved in a firm nod while he held a steady gaze.

Paul left the empty church, looking across the lot. His pickup sat alone. If only Suzanna had a community for support. For now, he and his family were it.

Suzanna yanked at her closet door as if she intended to rip the thing off its hinges.              

Who knew such an average-looking tramp would be the undoing of Paul Rustin. All those years of overcoming his past, and a little city-girl reject comes along to soil his sheets.

One would think a beautiful woman like Shelby Stanton, all dressed up in her clean white skirt and navy top, wouldn’t say such horrible things, especially not in church.

Why would people listen to such a story? Paul’s hometown. People who knew him best and were supposed to love him most. How could they latch on to such a bald-faced lie without so much as a doubt sending up a caution flag?

But they did. Almost everyone, except his wonderful family. They ate the lie and let it sink into their guts. Let it sour their faces. Harden their stares.

Oh, Paul. If you’d known this was where all this would have landed you, would you have troubled yourself with a little pickle like me?

Tears fell, cooling her hot cheeks and blurring her vision. Didn’t matter. She had a lot to do.

Suzanna wrapped her arms around the clothes hanging to her right. Lifting, she removed them, hangers and all. She should have gotten rid of most of them the first time she moved. She’d donate them this time. Surely she could afford some new outfits once a sale went through.

She hefted the load to her bed and dropped it, not caring about the shirt that had slipped off its hanger, or about the pair of jeans that lay strewn on the floor. Returning to the closet, she ducked under the horizontal pole and moved to the back. Boxes lined the floor, and she dropped to her knees.

She’d labeled them with a sharpie.
Daddy’s. Jason’s. Wedding. Funeral.

Strange brandings for a girl all of twenty-seven.

Her fingers traced
Jason
, and a sob welled up from the depths of her stripped soul. She didn’t want to look, but her hands moved as if compelled by something beyond herself. The box was opened, and her life sat revealed on the closet floor.

His uniform. Blue and yellow and smelling like musty cardboard.

No. It was supposed to smell like Speed Stick and Old Spice. Like Jason.

His cleats. Not even broken in. He’d bought a new pair before training camp. Only wore them twice. She hated that he’d thrown his older pair out.

A hospital bracelet. A plastic strip that became jewelry he rarely removed.

Their picture.

Suzanna sat back against her heels as she caressed the frame. She’d been eighteen, and they were happy. He wore his UNC hat, and his arm draped around her shoulders, his glove dangling near her elbow. He was the good in her life. Despite all the upheaval at home, all the animosity between her and her mother, and all the disappointment in her father she’d tried to push away, she’d still believed life could be good because of Jason.

Even at that, she hadn’t known she’d be married within six months or widowed by the age of twenty-five.

Widowed
. Such an ugly word. It sounded like an accusation or a label of scorn.

There’s Suzanna Cumberland. Did you know she’s a widow?
Felt like she was to blame.

She returned Jason’s treasures to their coffin, smiling portraits and all. The box was already packed. She didn’t need to redo it. She had plenty of other sorting to do.

Paul scanned his sister’s table. No Suzanna. Should have known. Her Jeep wasn’t in the drive. It’d been featherheaded of him to hope she’d ride over with Dre.

“Wouldn’t come.” Dre stepped to his side and spoke in a low whisper. “She looked like she wanted to cry and scream and stomp her feet, but all she said was she was going home, and then she just left. You’d vanished, and I didn’t know what to do.”

He looked down at his little sister, her face contorted with worry.
Dang it, Chuck. Didn’t you know how this would affect everyone?

’Course he did. He went for the gut. That’s how he got what he wanted every time. Wonder why it took so long to catch on. Chuck had been a selfish manipulator since the time he talked Paul into stealing old man Barkley’s Farmall and parking it in front of the entry doors at the high school.

Harmless pranks. That’s what he’d called all those stupid tricks. Except Paul had stripped the gears and the school had to call a tow truck to get the thing out of the way before classes could start. And old man Barkley was stuck with the bill. Paul was sure two days of sweat labor hadn’t covered the damage. Chuck never did have to put up any kind of restitution.

“You okay, Paul?” Tom stepped in front of him, his eyes darting from Dre to Paul.

“Not really.” Paul swallowed. “I need to talk to Suz. I should have warned her.”

“Warned her?” Dre moved from Paul’s side to Tom’s. “How did you know?”

“Skip it.” Paul ran a hand over his head. “I really need to talk to her. Go on ahead and eat.”

He turned to leave, and Dre matched his stride. “Bring her back later, okay? We’ll have homemade ice cream…” Her shoulders slumped.

Homemade ice cream fixed a lot of things, but this wasn’t one of them.

Dre tugged on his elbow as if she were willing him to understand. “I need to know she’s okay.”

Paul squeezed her shoulders. “We’ll see.”

Three miles never felt so far. What if she’d taken off? Gone somewhere he didn’t know anything about and just vanished from his life. Unacceptable.