Reclaimed (33 page)

He traced the wet trails on her face, his expression torn. Slowly, he pulled her into his shoulder, and she clung to the comfort with every bit of her strength.

Suzanna couldn’t look at Paul. “Jason felt guilty about it. We knew it wasn’t right, but he loved me—wanted me. My home life was a cold existence. My mom left us. My sister and I never got along, and my dad… he just sank. Jason was all I had.”

Paul remained still. His silence felt like disappointment. Like rejection. She was losing him because she wasn’t who he’d thought she was. The ache surged straight to her soul.

He stood up, turning his back to her, and walked to the door. Was he leaving? He groaned, moved back to the middle of the kitchen and laid both palms against the counter. This was tearing him up. She’d known it would. Did he understand how dark her world had been? Did he know how much she hurt?

Paul returned, dropping back into his chair. “What happened?”

“We tried chemo, but the cancer came back. Doctors said his best chance was a bone marrow transplant, but finding a match took awhile. When they did, it wasn’t exact, but they still said it was his best chance. His body rejected it.”

Paul slouched forward, leaning his elbows against his knees. “When did he die?”

The last of her tears dried against her face. “Two years ago September.”

Silence sat heavy between them. Waiting for Paul’s reaction twisted Suzanna’s insides.

He hung his head, both hands rubbing over his hair. “Do you still love him?” He didn’t raise his face to hers until the question was out.

Her heart squeezed until it was hard to breathe. How could he possibly understand? “I’ll always love him, Paul.”

She couldn’t read his eyes. They seemed stormy but not angry. Hurt and yet tender.

“Is that why you can’t love me?”

“Oh, Paul.” The tears turned on again. “I do love you. Have since the day you pulled me out of the mud.”

“You never say it.”

She looked to her hands and twisted them in her sweatshirt. “I couldn’t… because I hadn’t told you everything.”

Frustration darkened his eyes. She’d waited too long to tell him, making it all the more difficult. He stood and began pacing again.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” She felt like a tiny, helpless mouse caught in a trap.

He faced her. “Why would I think you made that up?”

“No.” She stood, edging closer to him. “I meant you don’t believe I love you.”

His shoulders sagged, and his expression softened. “I don’t understand, Suz. I’m trying, but I don’t understand how you could love me and yet not be honest with me.”

Silent cries shook inside her chest. She couldn’t stand the look of betrayal on his face, so she shut her eyes. She felt his hand on her arm, his touch tentative. He stepped closer and wrapped her in an uncertain embrace, one that felt more like a good-bye than forgiveness.

“I’m sorry you went through something so heartbreaking,” he whispered against her hair.

Clinging to him, she buried her face in his flannel shirt, but he didn’t tighten his arms.
God in heaven, please don’t take him away. Help him forgive me. Please, God, don’t let me lose him too.

Paul straightened, dropping his arms. The move made her heart rip. He was leaving. Saying good-bye.

“I need to think, Suzanna.” He lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to his face. “I just need some time to think. Okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. Her throat was too thick for words. She gripped his hand, desperate for his loving touch.

He brushed at her tears with his fingers and leaned to graze her forehead with his lips. His voice quivered as he whispered against her skin, “Just give me some time.”

THIRTY-ONE

Suzanna slipped onto a bar stool in Andrea’s kitchen, not able to paint a happy face over her heartache. “Does Paul usually go to the river property this time of year?”

Andrea stacked cookies on a plate and set them on the island counter before she sat across from Suzanna. “It’s a little early, but moving the cattle to a closer pasture for calving is typical.” She pushed the plate closer to Suzanna and leaned on an elbow. Silence buzzed between them, and Andrea’s furrowed brow deepened. “What’s going on, Suz?”

He didn’t tell them. Paul wasn’t the gossiping type, but telling his sister didn’t seem like gossip to Suzanna. It seemed like… counsel. They’d find out, anyway, especially if Paul decided he couldn’t handle it.

A wave of nausea passed over her, and Suzanna dropped her head in her hand. “I haven’t been completely honest, Andrea.”

Sitting still, listening calmly, Andrea waited.

“I was married. My husband died”—the words rushed out—“and I didn’t tell Paul until Tuesday.”

Andrea leaned in, her expression nothing short of gut-felt sympathy. “What happened?”

Hot tears threatened to spill over, but Suzanna sniffed them back. “Paul asked about the chain I always wear.” She pulled the ring from beneath her shirt collar. “I have my wedding ring on it. So, I finally told him. He’s upset because he told me everything—about Boys Town and Hailey—all of it, but I hadn’t told him about Jason.”

She fingered the ring, drawing a shaky breath. “I knew I should, but I couldn’t make the words come out. When he left Tuesday, he said he needed to think. Then he stopped by yesterday and said he was going south. Wasn’t sure when he’d be back. Something told me this was out of the ordinary.”

Andrea’s eyes glazed, though something like disappointment lurked behind her compassionate tears. She stood, wrapping her arms around Suzanna’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.” She tightened her hold. “I’m so sorry, Suzanna. Will you tell me about Jason?”

Where was the anger? She hadn’t been truthful. She’d hurt Andrea’s brother deeply. Why was she so kind?

Andrea took her silence as a no. “Does it still hurt too much to talk about it?”

Sort of. But for more reasons than the death of her husband. Suzanna swallowed and cleared her throat. “No, it was just easier to start over as Suzanna Wilton. Easier not to have to explain my life and my decisions. Easier to let it stay in the past.”
Really? Is that where it all stayed?

“I can understand that.” Andrea scooched her stool closer and sat near enough to keep an arm on Suzanna’s back.

Her touch, though warm and loving, felt odd.

“I’ve hurt Paul.” Tears swam over her vision and she huddled to herself, trying to keep her broken heart inside. “I don’t think he can forgive me.”

Andrea rubbed her back. “You know better than that.”

Paul’s face flashed through her mind—betrayed and then distant. No, she didn’t know better. She knew reality. She leaned forward, running her hands over her face before she peeked at Andrea. “He looked like I’d shoved scissors into his chest. And when he left on Wednesday, he didn’t … didn’t kiss me good-bye.”

Andrea leaned back and moved her hand to cover Suzanna’s. “Here’s the thing about my brother, Suz. He’s human. He’s a wonderful man and has outgrown a lot of his flaws, but not all of them. Insecurity, particularly with a woman he’s let close to his heart, is a tender sore that is easily aggravated. Give him time.”

How much time? He’d left indefinitely. What was she supposed to do, supposed to think while he was gone? Hope had once again proven itself to be an agonizing traitor. Was she supposed to continue writhing within its grip?

“I think it’s time to go back to Colorado.” Suzanna talked more to her hands than to Andrea. “I can’t stay here. It’ll be too hard—for everyone.”

Andrea breathed a small laugh through her nose. “Don’t jump ship because of a small clap of thunder. Wait this one out, Suz. Paul’s got some scars too. When pressed just so, they still hurt. Give him some time.”

Okay, so maybe it would take more than a couple of days, but every hour of silence felt like forever.

What did Paul feel? Besides betrayed, what was he wrestling with?

“Did he love her?”

“Hailey?” Andrea looked out the window. Her silence stretched as contemplation played over her expression. “I don’t know how to answer that for sure without giving you the wrong impression. Paul wouldn’t have proposed to a woman he didn’t care about, but he wasn’t like the way he is with you.

This isn’t going to make sense, but he wanted her to be the future he’d planned. When she left, it was the loss of those plans, and rejection in general, that hurt more than the pain of broken love.”

“Are you saying he was settling?” That didn’t make sense. At all.

Andrea tipped her head to look at Suzanna. “I’m saying they were both settling. They didn’t fit together. Paul seemed to think it would just all work out. Hailey discovered Paul wasn’t going to change. They wouldn’t have worked. They wanted different things, different lives. Neither one was willing to drop those desires to see to the other’s happiness. They didn’t love each other like that.”

Paul Rustin? Must have been a different man. Suzanna stared across the kitchen, trying to imagine a lesser version of Paul. Wasn’t possible.

“He loves you, Suz.” Andrea spoke as if she knew Suzanna’s unvoiced musings. “You got to him the first day you met. He came here that morning all frayed around the edges because you’d stood up to him. Granted, it was undeserved, but Paul doesn’t get frayed often. There’s more at work here than boy meets girl. God has plans for the two of you. I know it. So, give it time. He’ll be back.”

Hope again. Darn pest. Persistent as a thirsty mosquito. If only she could smack the thing dead.

Then what? Peace? Foolish notion. Peace fills. Without hope, she’d be completely empty.

Paul stretched his back before he poured a mug of fresh brew. Out of habit, he inhaled the bold scent. Wasn’t Suzie’s. The sore spot in his chest kicked out a fresh fissure of pain.
Homesick
. Yep. For the Pickle.

He forced his feet across the old carpeted floor and out the front door, grabbing his Carhartt coat on the way. Trading the mug from hand to hand, he pushed his arms through the sleeves and dropped onto the porch swing. The cold, dark night draped around him, offering only an empty chill rather than familiar comfort.

His cattle had looked at him about like his foreman had when he showed up yesterday morning.

You’re about six weeks early, boss. What are you doing here?

Probably wasn’t hard to figure out. The last time he’d landed here out of the ordinary had been at the doings of a woman. Same song, second verse.

No, not at all the same song. Heartaches come in different tunes, different keys, different depths. And this one had plunged deeper than he’d thought possible.

She’d lied. Suzanna Wilton was not Suzanna Wilton, and by all indications, she wasn’t ever going to tell him about her marriage on her own. How could he reconcile that? Thus far, he wasn’t having any luck with it. Didn’t change the fact that he loved her with every corner of his heart, which, at the moment, smarted pretty good. Love and trust were supposed to go together. Right now, they were at war.

If it were possible to pick a side, which one would he want to win?

A vehicle rumbled past the southern tree line, and a pair of headlights flashed upon his home. People only showed up at this house on purpose. Paul shoved a lid on his internal battle, wondering what Cal wanted.

The engine cut as soon as it stopped in the drive, and a door slammed. Paul stood and moved to flip on the porch light. Pushing the door open, he paused when he caught sight of Tom heading for the front porch steps.

Tom stopped at the top and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. He didn’t say a word, but his look said it all.

“Dre sent you.” Paul said flatly.

“She’s worried about you.”

Paul puffed a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “So I guess that means she’s talked to Suz.”

Tom nodded. Paul pulled on the screen door, and Tom followed without the need for an invitation.

“Coffee’s fresh.” Paul waved toward the small kitchen.

Again, Tom nodded and then moved to fill a mug. Paul sat in an overstuffed chair in the front room and waited until Tom returned to sit in the middle of the worn couch. Awkwardness filled the room like a sudden chill from a northern gust of wind.

Paul leaned his elbows against his knees. “So… what did she say?”

“Suzanna?”

Paul nodded.

Tom leaned back. “That she’d been married, and her husband died of cancer two years ago. That she hadn’t told you until earlier this week, and you were pretty upset.”

Well, that was the
Reader’s Digest
version.

“Dre thinks I’m being ridiculous, making too much out of it, doesn’t she?” Because, really, he was. And this wrestling match he had going on inside was undoubtedly killing Suzanna. Why couldn’t he just accept the whole deal and move on? Offer the comfort he knew she longed for and promise forever like he’d intended to in the first place. Why was that so hard?

“No.” Tom held a steady expression. “No, she doesn’t think that at all. Like I said, she’s worried about you. Both of you. I’m not here to fetch you back. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Silence settled again. Tom had been his best friend for more than twenty years. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see him pull up, to have him sitting here now, waiting to hear whatever Paul needed to say.

“I know she didn’t mean to lie to me”—the words tumbled out of his mouth, taking him by surprise—“but it felt like a gut shot to hear her say she’d been married.”

Tom took a sip of his coffee. “She probably should have told you awhile back. I imagine it’s just not the kind of thing that sits on the tip of your tongue.”

Paul’s eyes slid shut, and the horrible moment replayed.

It’s my wedding ring.

He felt like puking all over again.

“The thing about it isn’t just that she didn’t tell me. It’s that she’s been married. I wanted her only ever for myself. Now I know she’s been with another man, loved another man.”

He looked at Tom, certain that he would be disappointed in him, because he was disappointed in himself. It was selfish. True, but selfish. He dropped his gaze and wiped a hand over his face.

“That’s gonna be a tough one to wrestle down.” Tom spoke with a quiet hint of understanding.

“What if Andrea had come to you that way. Would you have had a hard time with it?”

Tom pulled in a long breath and set his mug on the coffee table. “I came to her that way.”

Paul’s emotions seemed to fall to the floor. What did Tom just say? He had been the straightest arrow of any of their peers, and he’d had a tender spot for Paul’s little sister for, well, almost forever. It went from a teenage crush to full-blown love in a matter of weeks after Dre had finished college. How could Tom mean what Paul had understood?

“You weren’t the only one tangled up in rebellion, Paul.” Tom’s voice brought him out of confusion. “I just wasn’t as brazen with mine. Trust me when I tell you Dre had a pretty hard time with it—and not just for a little while. Even a couple of years into our marriage, she struggled with insecurity.”