Reclaimed (36 page)

Why hadn’t Paul mentioned his almost-wife had been a knockout?

Wasn’t his fault she was gorgeous, but, sheesh, did he have to go and dance with her in front of the whole town? She’d literally draped herself in his arms, and he just let her as they swayed to a country love song. What was he thinking? As if there wasn’t enough juicy gossip about them oozing into the streets.

Maybe she shouldn’t have taken a swing at his head, so to speak. Or, probably more true, his heart. Did he really love her like that?

Why did he take that cheap shot at the end?

You’re afraid to feel anything but anger.

It unnerved her that he saw into the very depths of who she was. Into all the rottenness.

What if someone knew all of the wounds in my heart, all of the bitterness stored up there and loved me anyway.

She’d thought that, longed for it months ago. Now she had it in Paul.

Headlights lit the road ahead as the sound of a vehicle crawled behind her.

Paul.

She sped up her pace while an argument erupted in her mind. The vehicle stopped, and the sound of an opening door cut into the night.

Apologize and end it. He didn’t do anything wrong.

Shore up the defense and keep him out. This will only end in heartache.

Heartache was inevitable, but did it have to end that way?

“Suzanna, stop.” Though softer, his voice still held a hint of frustration. She heard his boots scuff against the dirt as he jogged to catch up. “Get in the pickup.”

Not happening.
Stubbornness won the round. She pulled her shoulders straight and kept her feet moving.

He snagged her elbow. “I mean it, Pickle. Get in. I’ll take you home.”

She lifted her chin. “I’ll walk.”

He pulled her to a halt. “Don’t make me toss you over my shoulder.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You wanna find out?”

She held his eyes, the heat of his emotion burning into hers.

Why did she continue with this? He was the best thing going for her. Did she really want to push him away? What if he gave up on her?

Better now than later.

The thought startled her. Was that how she really felt?

He tugged on her arm again, and she took a step toward him. His hand slid down her arm, and she was surprised when he wrapped hers in it. She followed him to the pickup and climbed in without a sound.

Their silence felt more uncomfortable than combative as he took her home. Parking in the drive, Paul leaned over the steering wheel and sighed.

“Suzie, let’s end this.”

“End this?” Her voice cracked. The stone wall around her heart began to crumble as tears slipped onto her cheeks.

“The fight, hon.” He turned to look at her, his eyes tired—discouraged.

Oh.
Wiping the tears, she nodded.

He reached across the cab and pulled her head into his shoulder, brushing a kiss over her forehead. “It’s just a fight, Pickle.”

THIRTY-FOUR

Suzanna’s room felt unusually cold. Didn’t really have to do with the thermostat though. She shivered in the lonely darkness, staring at the ceiling. Where was sleep? Tucked away far from her reach in the happy place where peace and hope weren’t at war.

Rolling to her side and gathering the quilt closer to her body, she trembled to remember what it had been like to roll into Jason, to soak in his warmth and to snuggle into his arms. Even then, though warm and not so lonely, she didn’t know peace—only the fleeting comfort of his heartbeat, the temporary relief his love provided against the feeling of abandonment.

The comfort of Jason’s love had left her cold, deserted and forever in turmoil.

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, making a damp trail along her face until it splotched her pillow. Jason had filled the void for a time, but the hollow places in her soul had never been satisfied. Never. Why had she hoped Paul would be able to accomplish what Jason had failed?

He couldn’t. They would fight, and though it would be just a fight, it would grow those tender holes. Make them larger and carve the emptiness deeper.

Paul was right. She didn’t want to feel the pain.

God, where are you? If you love me, like Daddy claimed, then where are you?

The chill of solitude—absolute and impenetrable—pressed in closer. No, Daddy was wrong. God didn’t care at all.

Paul went to the door in a white tee shirt and his flannel pants certain it was Suzanna. Who else would show up on his front porch at five in the morning? He scrubbed his hand over his face but not really to remove the sleep. There hadn’t been any. It was more to push away the anxiety.

He pulled the door toward him, and Suzanna stood in her sweats, her puffer coat wrapped tight around her frame. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” He stepped back to let her pass. “I went out to check cows around four and never made it back to bed.”

Small lie. He hadn’t made it to bed at all. Foreboding kept him up. Praying. Searching for answers.

He shut the door and turned back to where she waited in the narrow hall. She looked at him through timid eyes, puffy from lack of sleep and most certainly tears. His heart ripped, leaving regret.

Don’t let the sun go down on your anger.

They should have worked this out last night. Stepping across the hall, he reached to pull her close.

“I’m sorry, Paul.” She sniffed. Her arms locked around his waist, her hold strong. Almost desperate.

Paul curled around her, cuddling her close. His throat felt too thick to speak, and so he just held her, swaying slightly as though a distant melody played a healing tune. He closed his eyes as he leaned his head against hers, trying to shut out the images of her anger. Such a thing to think about in a moment like this, but it wasn’t something he could ignore. Something needed to change.

He stepped back, putting space between them while he anchored his hands on her arms. “Suzanna, we need to talk.”

Her lips trembled, and she looked down at her feet. “Do what you need to do,” she whispered.

Still unconvinced. What could he do to make her understand? He lifted her chin, his thumb tracing her jaw, until she locked with his gaze.

“I’m not breaking up with you, Suzie. I hope someday you hear me when I tell you I’m in love with you.”

She shuddered as a cry ripped through her body. Paul pulled her across the small distance, securing her once again in his embrace. She rested her head against one of his arms as the cries continued to escape from the depths.

Bottomless pits he could not plunge.

“Why would you want me?” she gasped between cries. “Why would you want this ugly, scarred heart of mine?”

He took her arms again and moved so he could speak into her eyes. “Baby, those aren’t scars. Scars don’t ache like this. They don’t continue to bleed. These are still wounds, and I can’t fix them. I can’t fill the holes in your heart, but I think you’re hoping I will.”

She covered her face with both hands as sobs took over completely.

Where are you, God? Why haven’t you healed her?

Because she wouldn’t let Him. Just like she pushed Paul away, she pushed the healing hand of Love away. The revelation shattered his heart, and he couldn’t contain his own tears.

“Hon, you’ve got to let God in. He’ll heal you if you’ll let Him, but you’ve got to let Him.”

She moved away. “I don’t know God like you do, Paul. Your God is with you, loves you.” She shook her head, agony in her eyes. “The god I know doesn’t care about my pain, or if he does, he can’t do anything about it. He doesn’t love me, doesn’t want me.”

Paul’s stomach knotted hard. She didn’t know Him at all. All this time, he had thought she’d just been mad at Him, kept Him at a distance. But she really didn’t know Him.

Oh God. I’m in too deep. Please don’t do this to me.

His hands trembled at his side, and Paul drew a deep breath. “If that’s what you believe, then you don’t know Jesus.”

Her eyes came up to his face, but her brows drew down. “I’m a preacher’s kid, Paul. I know all about Jesus.”

“That’s not the same as knowing Him.”

Her shoulders drew back. “Are you trying to tell me that I’m not a Christian?”

“I don’t know, Suzie. Are you?”

“Of course I am.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Why?” He slid a tiny step forward. “Why do you think you’re a Christian?”

She looked at him befuddled. “My daddy was a
pastor.
I was baptized as a child. I was confirmed as a teenager. That’s what Christians do.”

Oh God, no. Please, Father, don’t do this.

“Suzanna, those are all good things to do, but they don’t make you a Christian. Only Jesus makes you a Christian. Only Jesus saves.”

Suzanna huffed. “Well, of course I know that.”

“Do you? You didn’t say it.”

“Okay, fine.” She blew out another breath. “Jesus is the Savior of the world. Now do you believe me?”

Paul covered his forehead with his hand, rubbing his temple. “Hon, I’m not trying to pick a fight with you, but I have to ask, is Jesus
your
savior?”

Her lips parted, and she looked at him as though he were speaking Latin. “What do you mean? I just told you, He’s the Savior of the world. You know, like God so loved the world that He sent His only son to save it.”

Yeah. Close. And yet so not right. Paul sighed. “Do you know the rest of that verse?”

She held his eyes, defiance hardening her expression. “Is this a test?”

Paul ran his hand over his face and pressed it against his mouth.

She’s not going to listen. God, what do I do?

“No.” His shoulders slumped as he moved down the hall toward the kitchen. He opened a cupboard and reached for the coffee but only set it on the counter. Leaning against it, he felt tired. Weak. Helpless.

Suzanna trailed him after a few moments, her eyes dry, but her expression upset. “I’m sorry, Paul. I don’t know why I snap like that.”

He lifted his head and swallowed.
Because you won’t let anyone in. Not God. Not me.

“What does the rest of that verse say?” She asked softly.

“My Bible’s over on the coffee table.” He nodded toward his living room. “You can look for yourself.”

She nodded and moved toward it. She stopped halfway and turned to him, guilt showing in her posture. “I don’t know where that verse is.”

Paul breathed deep and then nodded, pushing away from the counter. He walked toward her and took her hand, leading her to his couch. Flipping to John 3:16, he held his Bible so she could read it.

“Okay,” she spoke slowly, raising an eyebrow. “So, I’m still not understanding your point. I believe in Jesus. Do you still think I’m not a Christian?”

“Suzanna, a general belief in God, or Jesus, isn’t the same thing as saving faith. James says even the demons believe in God, but it doesn’t make them saved.”

“James?” Her tone got snippy again. “Who is James?”

Paul felt his shoulders drop again. “James, the half brother of Christ. He wrote the book of James in the Bible.” He sighed, not knowing what else to do.

“Look, to be a Christian means you are a follower of Christ, that you have a relationship with Him. Salvation is personal—kind of like marriage. Andrea couldn’t just say she’s a Kent because she knows about Tom. She’s a Kent because she married him. She committed to him, follows him.
Knows
him. There’s a big difference.”

Suzanna smacked the Bible shut. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never heard my daddy talk like this. Are you saying if I don’t know Jesus like you want me to, then I’m not saved?”

Paul groaned, wanting to shout. “No. It doesn’t have anything to do with what I want. I don’t make up the salvation rules, Suzanna. Jesus said it. He said there will be many who say Lord, Lord, and He will turn them out, saying He never
knew
them.”

He turned to her, leaning his hands against his knees. “I don’t know what your daddy believed, what he preached, but I do know you came here searching for something he found. Maybe it wasn’t in the land or the town or anything else you have here. Maybe he found truth, and it gave him peace. Maybe he found
Jesus.
”

Suzanna jumped up. “My daddy knew truth. He spent his life preaching the Bible!”

Paul closed his eyes, trying to stop the spinning in his head. He stood slowly and wandered back to the kitchen.

Suzanna stayed in her place until he reached the counter. When she turned to him, the anger had drained from her face. She moved toward him but stopped on the opposite side of the sink.

“This is a deal breaker, isn’t it?”

A deal breaker?
Was that as deep as she thought his heart went? A deal, like a handshake over the sale of a cow? A contract for a purchase? Paul swallowed, emotions crashing over him so strong he trembled.

“Jesus is at the very core of who I am, Suzie. If you don’t know Him, you’ll never really know me.” His voice cut off as his throat closed over.

“What does that mean?” Her eyes gleamed with tears.

He pushed a fist against his head. What was he to do? His heart felt like it was slowly ripping apart, and he found it hard to breathe.

God, I can’t do this.

“I don’t know.” He choked. “I don’t know what to do.”

Suzanna wrapped her arms around herself. Her voice came broken and hoarse. “Why can’t you just love me as I am?”

Agony spilled onto his cheeks. “I do, Suzanna. This is the problem. Right here. How many times have I told you I love you? I keep pouring love into you, and it drains from your heart like water through a cracked tank. I can’t fix that. I love you, more than I can find words for, but I can’t fix what’s wrong on the inside. I could try, and you would end up resenting me, because I will fail.”

He could see her begin to tremble as she cried in silence. Tears blurred his vision, but he forced himself to finish. “I’ll always love you, Suzanna. That will never change, but I want you to be whole. To have peace. I can’t do that for you.”