Heartland Wedding
Page 17
Trapped between regrets from the past and hope for the future, he existed in a state of uncertainty. Pete wanted a real marriage with Rebecca. He truly did. He longed for the kind of loving union Will shared with his wife, the kind Pete had shared with Sarah in the early days.
But he’d failed miserably the first time around. How could he expect his union with Rebecca to be any different?
Chapter Fourteen
Just as twilight spread its purple arms across the sky, Rebecca allowed Pete to take her hand and escort her toward the front steps. This would be her first time entering her home from the front. Of course, this wasn’t her home yet. It wasn’t really “their” home, either. It was merely a bunch of bare walls, a few shabby pieces of furniture and too many memories.
After spending part of the afternoon with the Logans, Rebecca was more determined than ever to put warmth into this dreary house.
Watching the affectionate interaction between Emmeline and her husband—even in the face of tragic news—Rebecca had become sure of one thing.
She wanted a similar closeness with Pete.
And for an instant, she’d seen the same desire in his eyes. Unfortunately, the look had disappeared as quickly as it had come and an uncomfortable silence had fallen between them.
The ride home in the wagon had been suffered in silence.
However, she would not lose hope. What she’d seen in Pete’s eyes had been real, even if it had only been there for a brief moment.
Perfect love casteth out fear.
Rebecca clung to the truth in those words from First John.
But then her mind staged a mutiny and started racing toward a terrible thought. Had Pete’s love for his first wife been so strong that he would never be free to turn his affection onto her? Was that why he was so quiet now?
As he directed her over the threshold, still silent as a stone wall, she cast a quick glance his way. Shadows flickered across his face, making it impossible for her to read his expression.
At least he kept his hand wrapped around hers. That had to mean he cared for her. A little.
Without warning, his hand pulled away and he moved through the room, lighting one lantern and then another.
The resulting glow did little to illuminate the area. Rebecca waited for her eyes to adjust in the gloom.
“Would you like to eat now?” she asked, amazed she was able to keep the note of her rising desperation out of her voice.
“No,” he said. “I’m not hungry.”
He moved closer to the fireplace, and farther away from her. Every big, solid inch of his large frame spoke of loneliness.
“All right. I’ll save your food for later.”
“Don’t look at me like that, Rebecca.”
Why did he sound so certain he knew what she was thinking? Could he read her mind?
Surely not. Nevertheless, she cleared her expression as best she could. “How am I looking at you?”
“As though I’ve disappointed you with my answer.” He pushed away from the fireplace and moved in her direction. “Make no mistake, I do want something from you. I want…” His words trailed off.
He took three more steps, stopping inches away from her.
Her heartbeat picked up speed.
She tried to decipher his expression in the graying light. Sadness. There was such sadness in his eyes. And something else. Something she couldn’t fully interpret. She wanted to offer him comfort, but how?
“Pete.” She cupped his face with her hand. “I’m sorry.”
She had no idea what she was apologizing for, but the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Embarrassed, she pulled her hand away from his face.
He captured her wrist in a surprisingly gentle grip. “Sweet Rebecca.”
He buried his face in her hand, and then placed a tender kiss in the center of her palm.
She trembled in response.
“Are you cold?” he asked. His breath whispered gently across her fingers as he spoke.
“No.”
He lifted his head. “You’re shaking.”
“I…I think I’m…scared.”
He caressed her knuckles, then released her.
Unable to look away from all that intensity in his gaze, she continued staring at him. Her heart pounded at an unnaturally fast rate.
“Are you scared…of me?” he asked quietly.
“No.”
His eyes widened at her vehemence.
She softened her voice. “No. But I think…” Her voice stumbled over her words. “I think,” she said more forcefully, “that I’m scared of what I want, of what I might say, of what I…” Need from you.
How could she say those last words without pushing him away?
“Ah.” He gave her a tender smile, one that almost met his eyes. “I understand.”
“You…you do? Could you explain it to me?”
At the moment, she didn’t understand any of what she was feeling. She felt exposed, that much she knew for certain. But then his smile broadened and everything in her settled—her heartbeat, her confusion, her fear.
“Come here, Rebecca.” His words came out strong, but she saw the uncertainty in his eyes.
She wasn’t sure what he wanted from her. Perhaps he didn’t know, either.
“I…” Her heart pounded hard against her ribs, sending her blood roaring through her veins. “I am here.”
“I meant closer.” His smile wavered, just a bit. “Come closer.”
Closer? They were nearly touching as it was. And yet he wanted her to move closer to him? Oh.
Oh!
Understanding at last, she took a tentative step forward.
He tugged her into his arms.
She instantly tensed.
He lightened his hold.
They were both being so careful with each other, as though they understood the frailty of the moment.
“I, uh.” She locked her gaze on the corded muscles of his neck. “Maybe we should talk first. Maybe we should—”
“No more talk.” His arms roped tighter around her waist, his hold turning firmer.
“No talk? But—”
“Later. We’ll talk later.”
“We will?”
His head lowered toward hers in a bold move, but she felt the indecision in him. She’d never seen him look this vulnerable, and her trembles turned into bone-rattling shudders.
Yet, despite her own nervousness, her hands swept up his powerful arms, along his broad shoulders and then linked together behind his head.
They were married in the sight of God. This was allowed, expected even.
The moment their mouths touched her trembling stopped. Completely. Just like that. And then a transforming sense of peace slid across her soul.
This was where she belonged. With this man. In his arms.
Unfortunately, she could tell he was holding a part of himself back.
She pressed harder against him and whispered, “Pete, please. I—”
Suddenly her arms were empty and he was standing a full three feet away from her.
Both of them were breathing hard.
But where she blinked at him with hope in her heart, he blinked at her with horror on his face.
Worse, his eyes had a haunted look in them—there was no other word for that terrible expression in his gaze—and the stark planes of his face held regret.
Regret! Her own husband regretted kissing her. Or rather, he regretted wanting to kiss her, which was so much worse.
Looking more devastated than she’d ever seen him, he ran a trembling hand across his face until all emotion disappeared.
But nothing could erase the memory of what she’d seen in his eyes.
She staggered back a step, widening the distance between them all the more.
“I…” He gave her such a sorrowful look that her heart broke for them both. “I’ll be in the smithy.”
He was running away? Again?
He took a step away from her, the face of a stranger firmly back in place. “Buildings can’t be constructed without nails, bolts and latches.”
Why did he sound so resigned? Hadn’t they just taken the first step toward making their marriage real?
“But we just…” She touched her fingertips to her lips. “I thought we…”
He shook his head and stepped farther away from her. “I’m sorry, Rebecca.”
No. She would not accept another cold apology from him this time. She would not let him to skirt the issues between them anymore. “Why? Why are you sorry?”
“Because I can’t give you what you want.”
Now she was angry. Angry at him for making up her mind for her…angry at herself for allowing hope in her heart despite his detachment…angry at them both for not being able to make their marriage move past this awful uncertainty. “How do you know what I want?”
“I can see it in your gaze.”
She narrowed her eyes into two, tiny slits. No matter what he said, or how many times he said it, he could not read her mind. “And what is it, exactly, that you see in my gaze?”
“Don’t make this any harder, Rebecca. Please.”
“Don’t make what any harder?”
“This.” He waved his hand between them. “You, me. Us. You don’t understand. I can’t be a husband to you.”
He was holding something back from her. She heard the truth in his voice. Saw the reality on his face, even in the poorly lit room. He wanted to be her husband, but something was keeping him from doing so.
“Why can’t you be a husband to me? Because of Sarah?”
He put his hand over his face, completely shielding his eyes from her. “Yes.”
His voice didn’t sound convinced. And after one long, searching look her anger transformed into sympathy. The man was hurting. But Rebecca needed to know the truth. She needed to hear it from his lips. “Because you…still love your wife?”
“You’re my wife.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He turned his back to her. “You don’t understand.”
That was the second time he’d said that to her. And now she had another reason to be angry at him. But how could she stay upset when he looked so bleak and alone, so obviously in need of her compassion?
“Just because I don’t understand all your English words doesn’t make me stupid, Pete. If you would try explaining it to me, I could—”
“It’s too complicated to get into now.”
“If not now, when?”
She saw the answer in his eyes. Never. Perhaps she didn’t have the right to know the details of his first marriage, but didn’t she at least deserve an explanation for his change in mood?
“I have to get to work.” Without a single glance in her direction, he headed toward the kitchen.
Too stunned to stop him, Rebecca stared after his retreating back. The sound of his heels clicking against the wooden floor mingled with the echo of painful memories that reverberated through this ugly, ugly house.
In that moment, she hated Sarah Benjamin. Hated the woman with as much passion as she loved Pete. What kind of person did that make her?
Lord, will Sarah ever go away? Will Pete ever open his heart to me?
The silence that greeted her was answer enough.
Pete might have kissed her—and oh, what a lovely kiss it had been—but he wasn’t willing to join her in this marriage.
If only he would explain about Sarah and their life together, maybe Rebecca would understand what held him back from committing to her fully.
Well, she wasn’t about to give up on Pete or their marriage. She rushed into the kitchen and caught him right before he opened the back door.
“I don’t want to replace Sarah in your heart,” she said softly.
He stopped walking, then turned slowly to face her. “That’s not what this is about.”
His gaze said differently. “Isn’t it?”
“No.” He came back into the room, curled her hair behind her ear and then let his hand drop away.
She trembled.
And waited.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Rebecca.”
“You only hurt me when you walk away like this.” She pressed her palm against his heart. “Please, Pete, don’t shut me out of your life like this. I don’t want much from you. Not really. All I want is a little of your time.”
The rest would follow.
“My time, you can have. But, Rebecca, there’s not enough of me left to be the husband you deserve.”
The devastation in his eyes sobered her. He truly believed what he was saying. His loss had deeply wounded him, more than she’d realized. And now he thought he had nothing to give her.
Oh, but he was wrong, so very wrong. He had a lot to give. Love, affection, tenderness, she’d seen them all in him, in the way he treated his horses. And a man who took a moment to play with kittens was a man who could be a good husband and father. Unfortunately, she knew no amount of arguing would convince him. Not yet.
She would have to try another tactic. “Would you read from the Bible to me?”
Confusion filled his gaze. “You want me to read to you?”
“Yes, I do. After all, it’s the Sabbath.” She pulled him toward the parlor. When he didn’t resist her tugs, she knew she had him.
“We can eat on a blanket spread across the floor in front of the fireplace. It won’t be fancy.” She kept her face bland as she reached for the picnic basket. “But you can read to me after we’re finished.”
She was rewarded with a smile, and Rebecca let out a long, slow sigh. She recognized the risk she was taking. She may never win Pete’s heart, and her marriage may very well end up as cold and distant as her childhood. But with time on their side, and a lot of patience on Rebecca’s part, everything just might work out between them.
And if not, it wouldn’t be because she hadn’t tried.
Clint Fuller arrived at the back door of the boardinghouse on Tuesday afternoon as planned. Oddly enough, Rebecca was thankful for the respite from all her conflicting feelings toward her husband. Pete had read to her from the Bible two nights in a row. He’d been friendly at breakfast, but he hadn’t kissed her again. And he still slept in the empty room next to hers.
Time, she reminded herself. It was going to take time. Patience, too. And a lot of prayer.
Today would be a nice distraction. Except, after studying Clint’s anxious expression, Rebecca realized she wasn’t going to get much relief this afternoon. She could feel the apprehension flowing out of the cowboy.
Well, all right, if she was being honest, this whole business left her uneasy, too. But Pete had given his blessing, and at this point Rebecca couldn’t disappoint Clint.
Struggling to keep her smile genuine, Rebecca released a pent-up breath. “You have excellent timing, Clint. Do come in.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He slapped his hat against his thigh, the gesture sending up a cloud of dust.
Rebecca stifled a cough and stepped out of his way. He must have rushed over as soon as his chores were complete. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No. Do you have any extra?”
She tried not to grin at the eagerness in his voice. “Of course. Have a seat at the table over there.”
After a short hesitation, he complied, tossing his large frame in the closest chair. He slumped in a lazy posture that wasn’t exactly suitable for mixed company.
Sighing, Rebecca heaped food onto a plate and then set it on the table in front of him. “Eat while I get Mrs. Jennings.”
He leaned forward and took a big whiff. “Smells good.”
She handed him a fork.
Placing his elbows on the table, he attacked the meal as though he was in a timed eating contest. She’d never seen such…enthusiasm for her cooking.
When his
lips made a smacking noise between bites, Rebecca cringed. Clearly, she would have to begin with basic table manners, but not until Mrs. Jennings joined them. “I’ll be right back.”
She hurried out of the kitchen and met Mrs. Jennings halfway through the parlor.
“Is he here?” the other woman asked.
“Yes.” Rebecca fell into step with her former landlady. “I left him digging into a plate of food. And when I say digging, I mean digging.”
“Good grief.” Mrs. Jennings picked up the pace.
Rebecca trotted after her, nearly colliding into the woman when she halted just inside the kitchen doorway. “Mr. Fuller. What on earth are you—” She cut herself off and began again. “That is, I see you’re enjoying your dinner.”
“That’s an understatement,” Rebecca muttered.
The cowboy was still leaning on the table and shoveling food in his mouth as fast as he could. “It’s good.” He swiped his sleeve across his mouth. “Really good.”
Rebecca shuddered to think what other bad habits the man possessed. She could easily see where Clint could use a little—or rather, a lot—of refinement.
Oh, Lord, help me. I have no idea why You’ve brought this man to Mrs. Jennings and me, but You’ve certainly given us an interesting task. And I mean what I say. Help!
“Well, Rebecca.” Mrs. Jennings gave her an amused look. “I think table manners are an excellent place to start.”
“Yes, indeed.”
Clint ignored them both as he dragged a biscuit through a pool of gravy and then shoved the whole thing in his mouth. He proceeded to chew, for an entire two seconds, then swallowed.
Rebecca blinked in horror. Was he breathing between bites?
“Go on, dear.” Mrs. Jennings nudged her forward. “Get to work.”
Rebecca opened her mouth to speak, but her brother’s voice cut her off.
“Two more diners just showed up.” Edward poked his head through the doorway. “Oh. Clint.” He moved fully into the kitchen. “Didn’t know you were here.”
“I was just…” Clint’s face reddened. “Eating.”
“Then why aren’t you in the dining room?” Edward asked.
Before Clint could respond, Mrs. Jennings planted her hands on Edward’s shoulders and pushed him toward the back door.