Reclaimed (32 page)

Paul marched across the room and didn’t stop until he was leaning over Chuck, who was still sitting in his oversized, leather desk chair.

“Recognize this?” He slammed the trail cam against the desk, cracking the lens.

Chuck glanced at the box and then swallowed.

“Thought you might. Thought you’d want it back. I looked it up.” Paul whistled. “That baby wasn’t cheap.” He picked it up, opened the back, ripped the disk out and then dropped the camera on the floor. It clattered against the marble, cracking the casing.

Smacking the disk on Chuck’s desk, Paul bent until he was right in the other man’s face. “You won’t want to miss this week’s recording. I kissed her. Right out there in the pasture. Good and long, because I love her. I’m sure you can spin something scandalous out of that.”

Chuck’s eyes widened, his smirk momentarily replaced by a flash of fear. His arrogance returned in the next breath though. He stood, pushing Paul out of his space. “You think this means something, Rustin?”

“The game’s up, Stanton.” Paul stepped closer. “You lose. She’s not leaving, and you’ve run out of leverage.”

Chuck held Paul’s gaze, his eyes cold and unyielding. “I don’t lose. Ever.”

“Let it go,” Paul growled. “Just let it go.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Suzanna pulled the cookie tray from the oven. Ginger and nutmeg drifted to her nose, and she closed her eyes as she inhaled. Ah, warmth and... Nope. Not peace. Bummer. But it did smell good.

Where was peace? Why did it elude her? Paul loved her, stood up for her. As far as she could tell, had taken care of the Chuck issue. Still, her heart felt as restless and as abandoned as ever. Perhaps peace was only an illusion, something poets wrote about, but no one ever possessed.

No, that couldn’t be right. Paul had peace. Said so. Lived so. She saw it every time she gazed into those wonderful blue eyes. Dare she ask him?

That would mean telling him she still didn’t have peace. He’d be disappointed like Jason had been. Jason had believed they were on the same page, believed the same things. Maybe she had at one point, but the loving God thing didn’t ring true. She couldn’t understand why Jason still believed it after everything they had gone through.

Maybe he’d had to believe. In the dwindling glimmer of his life, he’d had to believe in a God who cares. What other option did he have?

This was why she couldn’t have peace. She relived the past every single day. It clung to her like the ring dangling on the chain around her neck. To take it off would be to betray Jason’s love, but wearing it kept her from having peace.

An engine rumbled outside the kitchen window, drawing Suzanna from her gloomy thoughts. Suzanna hoped Paul liked gingerbread cookies. They weren’t as sugary as his normal fare, but Jason had loved them, and they were one of very few things that stirred her sweeter memories.

Except, perhaps not today.

Paul slipped inside Suzanna’s side door, the smell of cookies filling his nose.
Gingerbread
. So good. “Hey, beautiful,” he called, “are you baking cookies for me?”

Suzanna appeared in the kitchen, her grin complemented by a lovely rose tint on her cheeks. Paul stamped his boots and wiped the snow from his pant legs, eager to kiss the cook.

“Christmas has done passed us by.” He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. “What’s the occasion?”

She shrugged and then snuggled into him. “Just sounded good on a snowy day. Work’s slow. I was done with the morning data by eight.”

Paul smiled, mentally placing her in his house, as his wife. His grandmother’s ring flashed through his mind. He’d intended to take a knee and slip it over her finger on Christmas day, but something deep and strong said no. Maybe just not yet. Neither made a whole lot of sense because he knew she was the one—except that perhaps it was too soon. For Suzanna. She had yet to say that magic phrase.

Brushing away the little sting that came every time he thought about that small disappointment, Paul bent to capture her lips. She leaned up to him, welcoming his kiss as always. It felt like “I love you.” She just didn’t say it was all.

Molasses and sugar lingered on her mouth, tasting so much better, he was quite sure, than any cookie. He combed his fingers through her hair and trailed them down her neck. His thumb caught on the chain she wore. Pulling away only enough to see her clearly, he gave the necklace a gentle tug.

“You always wear this,” he said. “What is it?”

Her hand flew from his chest to her neck, catching the piece of metal before he could make it out. Panic flashed in her eyes, and she drew away from his touch.

Paul’s head began to swim. What was she hiding? “Suz?” He reached to touch the hand she had clasped around her trinket. His heart kicked, sending a tremor of pain through his core when she cowered away.

She drew a long breath and then met his gaze. Her look begged him for… something. Forgiveness? He clasped her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

“It’s my wedding ring,” she whispered.

Paul froze. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. His chest felt suddenly heavy, like he’d been pinned under one of his bulls, and his hands began to shake. He tried to swallow past the swelling in his throat.

“You’re married?”
Dear God. I’m in love with a married woman.

His heart hammered against his ribs as he tried to draw a calm breath.

“Was, Paul.”

Dropping his hand, he backed away. “Where’s your husband?” His low tone was dark, and she shrank farther away.

Tears dropped onto her cheeks. “He died.”

Paul shut his eyes, trying to process what she’d just said. She’d been married. Widowed,

and she hadn’t told him about any of it. He opened his eyes, fixing them on her. “But you go by Wilton, same as your dad.”

She wouldn’t look at him. “It was easier.”

Easier? Lying was easier? His blood turned cold as the betrayal sank deep. “Were you gonna tell me?”

“Yes.” Her voice wobbled.

“When?”

She still wouldn’t meet his gaze. What else was she hiding? How could she not tell him about this?

“Paul, I didn’t know we’d end up here.”

Anger swirled in his gut and burned in his chest. No wonder she never said those words—she was still in love with another man. “We’ve been
here
for a while. I told you everything about me. Everything, Suzanna. How could you hide this from me?”

She sniffed, reaching for his hand. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

He moved away from her touch.

“Please, Paul. I love you. Please don’t reject me now.”

I love you.
He’d ached to hear those words from her lips. Every time he’d whispered them to her, he’d felt a needle pierce his chest when she didn’t echo the bond.
Now
she said them? Hailey had done that, used those words to manipulate him.

Please, Paul. I love you. I just want to be with you. We don’t need to spend so much time with your family. Please, Paul, I love you. I want us to have a new life. Not here. Let’s start over, just you and me somewhere far away.

“Don’t do that.” He nearly growled. “Don’t tell me that now, like this.”

“Paul”—she choked on a sob, wrapping her arms around herself—“I do love you. I know I should have told you. It’s been killing me, but I couldn’t get it out.”

Confusion slithered around his heart. It hurt. The squeeze nearly made him vomit. He needed to get away, needed to think. Walking to the door, he passed her as another sob trembled through her frame. He stopped short of leaving, raising a hand to lean against the door frame.

God, I can’t think. Everything hurts, and I can’t think straight.
She sniffed, and he closed his eyes. Suzanna didn’t often cry. She got mad when pain struck at her heart, and this ache may be why. It ran deeper than he’d ever imagined.

“How ’bout now?” He dropped his hand and turned back to her, his voice hoarse. 

Her eyes finally met his, begging him to understand.

He took a step toward her. “Can you tell me about it now?”

Another cry shook her frame, but she nodded. Paul pulled a chair from the table and held it until she sat. He sat across from her and then stared at his hands in his lap.

The moment had come. It was more horrible than she had feared. Never would she forget the horror on his face.
You’re married?
Why hadn’t she told him? Her silence had made things so much worse.

Wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, Suzanna cleared her throat. “My name is Suzanna Korine Cumberland.” She drew a ragged breath. “I was married for almost six years.”

His brows pushed up. “You were young.”

“Very.” She swallowed. “I was eighteen. He was twenty.”

“What was his name?”

“Jason.” She closed her eyes, and Jason’s face lingered in her memory. So different from Paul’s. Jason had been shorter, his skin darker, and his thick hair nearly black, but their characters were well matched. Paul would have liked her husband. They shared a common steadiness and a good heart.

“We met when I was fourteen.” Suzanna drew a breath. “Jason came from a rough home. His dad left when he was too little to remember. His mom is a meth junkie. He lived in an apartment next to a young couple from our church. Mr. Larson would see Jason out on the lawn with a baseball and go play catch with him. He invited him to church once, and Jason came every Sunday after that. He was a baseball player—a good one, and Mr. Larson and Daddy worked out some kind of scholarship so he could come to our school. They won state

both his junior and senior years in high school, and he had scholarship offers from four colleges. He chose the University of Northern Colorado because it was close.”

“To you, you mean?” Paul asked.

Suzanna nodded. “He had a hard time when he transferred to our school. It was a different group—you know, a bunch of church kids, and his background made him stick out.”

“And so you befriended him.”

“Sort of, but it wasn’t really like that. We were both the odd ducks. I was the pastor’s kid, and he was the drug addict’s kid. Anyway, we became close. He graduated a year before I did, but he knew what life was like at my house. He didn’t want to be far away.

“His freshman year in college went perfectly. He was an all-academic student athlete, and he led his conference in RBIs. Everything was going well until he started feeling off during the summer. He thought he’d caught a bug, maybe West Nile, until he went to training camp in August. They were fielding grounders, throwing them in from left field, and his arm suddenly snapped. It was a throw he’d made a million times, but his bone just snapped in half.”

Paul’s shoulders slumped. “Cancer?”

“Leukemia.”

Paul’s eyes settled on her, the warmth slowly returning to his expression. “So you married him.”

“Yes”—she looked to her hands as her face burned—“but we were already basically living together.” Tears began to roll again as she relived their first night together.

“I’m sorry, Suzie.” Jason buried his face in the pillow. “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

She traced his shoulder and then combed her fingers through his hair. “Don’t say that, Jase. I love you, and I know you love me. This is where I want to be.”

His head came up, and his face hovered over her, guilt dulling his eyes. “You should go home, Suzie. This isn’t right.”

“Please, Jason.” Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. “Please let me stay with you. There’s nothing for me at home.”