Tapestry of Trust (3 page)

“Fine.” She nodded, scrunching her eyes against the pain.

“Are you sure?” Charlie
reached over and brushed a finger against her temple.

She leaned into his touch and remembered her weakness to his soft caresses and what they had cost her. She opened her eyes and pulled away.

“Isabelle?”

Isabelle covered her eyes with her hand. “I’m fine.”
Dizzy and seeing stars, but fine.
She lowered her hand and blinked to refocus, only to find Charlie hovering a little too close, his narrowed gaze studying her.

“You don’t look fine.”

“I am, Charlie. Really.” For a klutz, that is. She stepped back and pressed her lips together to keep from blurting that she didn’t want his concern. Or the scent of his cologne tickling her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose and straightened, her vision finally clear. “Isn’t it just amazing? We haven’t seen each other in forever and now, what? Twice in the last week.” She strove for sassy but got squeaky instead. Hopefully she still conveyed her message.

Charlie didn’t flinch. He just stood there looking like GQ springtime in his khaki shorts and a polo shirt. Her heart skipped a beat.

She looked beyond him to the secluded pool area, and gestured to wisps of white smoke curling in the sky behind him. “There’s a big cookout brewing. Are you going?” If so, she’d alter her plans.

“Sure, I’d like to. It will give us some time to catch up.”

She snapped her gaze back to him. Charlie slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. Peering over the rims, he grinned down at her.

Her pulse ground to a halt. He thought she’d invited him. Well, she’d just allay that little misconception right now. “Actually, I won’t be going. But I hope you enjoy it.”

“You have plans?”

Isabelle tried to ignore the inappropriate jolt shooting through her by the warmth in his brown-eyed gaze. She blew out a breath. “Yes, I have plans.” She’d leave it at that. Did he think she’d been sitting around the last six years waiting for him to show up? Of course, she had plans. Even if they just switched to canned soup instead of barbeque.

A long pause ensued as his eyes held hers. She remembered how he used to blink away his disappointment—the same way he was doing now.

She swallowed several times against the rising lump in her throat, before finally adding, “I’m sorry, Charlie. This isn’t a good time.” Not that there ever would be.

****

Nothing like standing next to the girl he’d fallen in love with before he’d even been old enough to drive and realizing she was virtually a stranger. Charlie breathed deep. The air felt heavy, awkward, tense. Regardless, he let his gaze skim over Isabelle, making no apology for his inspection. He admired her oval face, pert nose, luscious lips. Still a beauty. Even with the long hair he once loved replaced by a more sophisticated style that barely reached her shoulders.

“Your haircut is nice, Isabelle.” He hoped to keep the conversation alive.

“Thanks.” Her slender eyebrows drew together, and she didn’t look amused.

All too aware that getting to know Isabelle again was going to take work, Charlie debated on what to say next—something to break the tension. “So, what’s that haircut called?”

“A bob.”

A bob…of course. He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. OK, not his best move, but, then again, he’d been out of practice. Besides, Isabelle’s apathy wasn’t making things easy. “Well, I like that style on you.” He was getting nowhere.

Isabelle reached back into the trunk. She pulled out a canvas bag bulging with papers and workbooks. “Thanks.”

Charlie stepped forward and reached for the bag. “Here. Let me carry that for you. I’m going right by your apartment.”

Isabelle pulled away from him, the bag bouncing against her hip. “No. That’s OK. I’ve got it.”

Charlie’s stomach lurched. He understood her being a little standoffish, but the loathing look in her eyes had him perplexed. Did she blame him for everything?

“I do need to go.” She clasped her burden close and shut the trunk lid.

Nerves dancing on edge, Charlie pressed on. “One more thing.” He kept his distance, though he wanted nothing more than to kiss and make up. “Do you still like to horseback ride? I’m doing a marketing project for Cedar Lake Barn outside of Austin. Have you heard of them?”

She hitched one shoulder. Not a hint of a smile. “I’ve heard of them.”

He was losing her. He’d better talk quick. “Well, they’ve given me an open invitation. I thought we could…maybe…ride sometime.” Never in a million years would he believe Isabelle Crafton could make him this nervous. The woman whose very presence used to calm him, now had his guts tied in knots. “I haven’t ridden in forever.” He tried for a grin. “In fact, not since we broke up.”

Fire sparked in Isabelle’s eyes. Charlie swallowed…hard. Great. He’d said something wrong.

Her mouth opened and her gaze softened, but she didn’t speak right away. “Thanks, Charlie, but I really can’t.” She spun away, her blunt heels beating like a war-drum against the sidewalk.

Charlie threw up his hands. “Isabelle, what is it? I’m trying here.”

She spun back toward him, the intensity in her eyes causing him to brace for a lecture. Instead, a quivering smile touched her lips then faded. “I can’t do this, Charlie.” She shook her head.

“Do what? Talk to someone you used to care about? Someone who only wants to get to know you again? Tell me what can I do to get us past this rough spot?”

“Charlie, you need to rethink history. I don’t recall
officially
breaking up. That would have required a response from you about the most important question in my life.” She whirled again and hurried across the parking lot.

Heat swarmed Charlie’s body. It took all the resolve he could muster not to chase her down and get a few things straight. As if they could have
officially
broken up when he couldn’t even find her to answer her questions.

They needed to talk.

But first, he needed to pray.

3

A week later, Charlie hurried down the office corridor and caught the elevator before the doors closed. Stepping inside, he exchanged nods with a couple of cackling women, crossed his arms, and watched the numbers climb as he headed to the sixth floor. Bone tired and brain weary, he wasn’t sure how he’d even made the thirty-mile trip without falling asleep. He’d been awake most of the night, thanks to his overactive mind and Isabelle.

The elevator doors swooshed opened. Charlie straightened his tie and headed toward his office at Wilson and Huss Marketing.

Sunlight poured through the wide expanse of windows in the lobby, spotlighting a cluster of leather chairs where at least eight clients waited. He lowered his gaze and pushed through swinging doors. Then he continued down the corridor, past the prattle of legal strategists in the conference room already steeped in the business of the day. He kept moving, hoping his first appointment hadn’t arrived early.

Outside his office, he stopped at his secretary’s desk and checked the telephone ledger. Several messages were jotted on the pad, but none pertained to him. Glancing over the desktop, he checked to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He didn’t need any surprises today.

Nothing jumped out at him except a picture of Brenda from several years earlier and several pounds lighter. The thought of having a picture of himself on his desk boggled his mind. Lately, he could hardly look in the mirror. Judging from Isabelle’s cool demeanor, she couldn’t stand the sight of him either.

Charlie breathed deep, curtailing his emotions. No time for self-pity. He needed to get busy. Focus.

He stifled a yawn. Coffee. That’s what he needed. Charlie turned on his heel and headed for the break room.

Inside, he spotted Brenda leaning against the counter looking bored. Her usual self. “Good morning.”

“It’s still brewing. But, not decaf.”

“Caffeine’s OK.” Charlie smothered another yawn. Not just OK. Absolutely necessary.

“I thought you usually stopped for coffee.”

“I didn’t have time today.” He clasped his hands and waited for the brew to finish.

Brenda’s dark lashes splayed upward. “Overslept, huh? Out too late with Miss Erica, I bet.” She twisted her lips into an exaggerated kiss, doubling her already double chin.

Charlie squinted to keep from rolling his eyes. “I didn’t see Erica. I just didn’t sleep well.” How about a little sympathy? He rubbed the back of his neck. “Has my first appointment arrived?”

“Nope.” Brenda combed her fingers through her blonde mane, exposing the dark roots. “In fact, they’ve rescheduled.”

“Excellent.” Charlie exhaled relief. He’d worked for days on the Fleming project and had gotten nowhere. Now he wouldn’t have to adlib a presentation.
Thank you, Lord.

For the last week, he’d felt worthless, frustrated, distracted. He had no idea why.
No.
That wasn’t true
.
He did know why.
Isabelle.

Numbing questions crowded his mind. What had she been doing these last six years? Why hadn’t she responded to his calls and letters, or at least given him a chance to explain? What drove her to just drop out of sight? Even more, to drop out of his life?

His muscle in his jaw tightened. Questions only Isabelle could answer.

“You know, you do look tired. Actually, you look terrible.”

Charlie blinked as Brenda leaned closer, studying him. “Gee, thanks.”

“No problem. Not everyone can look fresh and beautiful every day.” Brenda tossed her head back, a smug expression on her face.

He couldn’t resist. “You know, maybe you should try a new hairstyle. Like a bob or something.” He immediately regretted the ribbing when he saw her eyes round like two burning coals.

He shot up his hand. “Hey, just a thought.”

“Well, Mr. Prince-of-Fashion, if your tie wasn’t on crooked, I might consider your advice.”

OK, she won. Holding all comment, Charlie edged past Brenda to the coffeepot. Another day he would have laughed at the banter. Even shot back another witty riposte, although at the moment he found her quips more annoying than amusing. He poured his coffee, not bothering to add the sugar and cream. “I’ll be in my office.”

Two steps inside his office, he stopped. On the corner of his desk he noticed the folder of research notes he’d forgotten to take to his grad school class the night before. His head throbbed. His empty stomach growled. And his parched throat burned. He’d spent forty-five minutes scouring his apartment looking for those notes. He looked into his cup of coffee, still streaming with heat. Today wasn’t shaping up any different than yesterday.

Charlie rubbed between his eyes. Yep, his day was already sprinting downhill. How ironic that what started out as a good deed of returning a neighbor’s cat, ended up turning his life upside down. Seeing Isabelle again stirred something deep inside him. An awareness he hadn’t felt in…well, not in six years. Logically, he knew even though things had been great between them once, people change. He had to admit, he didn’t know Isabelle Crafton anymore. The tension he felt in the parking lot last Friday verified that. And those old scabby wounds needed to be healed.

Like that would be easy.

Shrugging off the disconcerting thoughts, Charlie stomped around his desk. He sank into the leather chair, and eyeballed his calendar. Deadlines. He hated them. Yanking open a drawer, he pulled out a bulging file, and chucked it onto the desk. Now if only his head would stop pounding. He grabbed a bottle of aspirin beside his computer, took two tablets, and swallowed them with a gulp of coffee.

Time to get busy.
He opened the file, and as he looked down, a small Bible peeked out from beneath a stack of mail. His gift from Grace Christian Church. Picking it up, he fingered the gold letters etched into the leather,
The Holy Bible
. God’s perfect word. A truth he’d balked at in the past, but now he knew better. He turned to the concordance and let his gaze skitter down the page, stopping when he came to
trust
. His eyes rested on Psalm 22:5.
They cried to You and were saved; in You they trusted and were not disappointed.

Head bowed, Charlie meditated on the verse until the sound of footsteps triggered his attention. He glanced up to find Erica in the doorway. She stared at him for a moment, leaning against the doorjamb, her booted ankles crossed. He had to admit she was a beauty. Tall and slender with bouncy, blonde hair curling about her shoulders, and blue eyes fringed by thick lashes, her skin flawless. When they met in grad school and started dating, he’d been the envy of every other guy in class.

“Busy?”

Charlie rocked back, the chair squeaking. He closed the Bible on his lap. “My first client rescheduled, but I do have work to do.”

A grin broke across Erica’s face. Waving a manila folder in her hand, she sauntered toward him. “Guess what this is.”

He wasn’t in the mood. “Is it something I should know about?” He doubted it.

Erica tossed the folder onto the desk in front of him then eased into the chair opposite his desk, her fingers stroking his jacket as she refolded it on the armrest. Before he could remind her not to get too comfortable, she crossed her willowy legs. “Open it Charlie. I think you’ll be pleased.” She winked, flashing that same bewitching smile that used to make his heart throb.

Charlie inhaled a long breath, trying to ignore her sultry perfume. He rubbed his nose. The spell she used to keep him under had long ago dissolved. He no longer desired a relationship built on good looks and business connections. Her shallow tactics wore on him. Not to mention, her shameless flirting with Carson Farthling at the Dallas conference, complete with the “harmless little kiss,” as she defended it. Oh yeah, the last straw.

Dropping his gaze, he noticed the Bible still in his lap. As discreetly as possible, he slid it into the left desk drawer. “Jamison’s Imports, Jaguar and Porsche,” he read, flipping open the file. He looked from the paperwork to Erica, whose brows cocked beneath wispy bangs. “I don’t understand. Larry Wright has this account.”