Resisting Redemption (The Redemption Series Book 3)
Page 13
A Clearwater County Romance Series
Broken Trails
Forbidden Trails
Unbridled Trails
Hidden Trails
Forgotten Trails
Endless Trails
Forsaken Trails
Lonesome Trails
Lost Trails
Untamed Trails
Boxset – Books 1, 2, 3
Spurs and Lace
Secrets and Lace
Sorrows and Lace
Boxset (all 3 books)
Romancing Redemption
Riding for Redemption
Resisting Redemption
Regretting Redemption
Rewarding Redemption
Boxset
Contemporary Romance
ClickandWed.com series
With This Click, I Thee Wed (book 1)
IDo.com (book 2)
DIY Vows (book 3)
eHoneymoon (book 4)
Keyword: I Do (book 5)
Let US-B Wed (book 6)
The Right Click (book 7)
Downshift series
Downshift (book 1)
Full Throttle (book 2)
Block Pass (book 3)
For a list with covers and descriptions as well as links to all of Bonnie’s other works, please click here.
About the Author
Bonnie R. Paulson is all about survival. Do you have what it takes to turn the page?
Find Bonnie at
Twitter: @bonnierpaulson
Facebook: http://facebook.com/bonpaulson
http://www.bonniepaulson.com
bonnie@bonniepaulson.com
Acknowledgements
To my blogger friends. Thank you.
Your support means more than you’ll ever know.
My sincerest love and appreciation.
B.
Captiva Publishing
Bonnie R. Paulson
www.bonniepaulson.com
Copyright © 2015 Bonnie R. Paulson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Regretting Redemption
Chapter 1
Mary
Mary hadn’t heard from Edward yet. Her silent phone unnerved her and she checked the screen more than her rearview mirror which was just as blank.
Colby would be up ahead in only a number of miles according to the highway signs. Why hadn’t Edward texted or called by now? He couldn’t be so upset that he’d write her off, could he? He still wanted to marry her, right?
She lifted her phone and pushed the home button, in case he’d tried but she’d missed the call. She glanced at the phone then up at the road. Both were clear.
The hour drive passed slower than tumbleweed in a whispering breeze.
Tucking a dark curl behind her ear, Mary tapped the face of her phone. Come on, Edward, call me!
Heading into the meeting with Lisa Trinkett wasn’t high on her list of enjoyable things to do. Growing up, the girls had been friends but only because of necessity and, well, because they’d been lumped together by other children because of their similar coloring and rumored similar parentage.
Oh, sure, Mary had heard the rumors growing up. She’d been taunted behind hands and behind her back.
Yet never, and this was serious, never was she taunted to her face except for the one time when she was five and she’d been called an outlaw’s daughter. The little boy also pulled her bow from her hair. She’d told her daddy when she’d gotten home. He’d nodded slowly, asked for the name of the boy, and hugged Mary when she’d given it to him.
The boy and his brothers and sisters hadn’t returned to school the next day – or any day after.
Her dad was her knight in shining armor.
Unfortunately, he was also the reason Mary didn’t have boyfriends or even normal friends growing up.
Except for Lisa. Always Lisa.
Mary adjusted the petite gold watch dangling daintily from her small wrist. She’d inherited her small frame from her mother. Something which had always bothered her dad. He’d made comments often about no strength in small people and weak little girls. Even with all that, he’d never pushed Mary away or been harsh to her.
He loved her.
Called her his precious treasure.
Edward just called her his.
Mary grunted at the memories. She wasn’t allowed to have much of an opinion, but she was an opinionated person who had always smothered her voice. Plus, who would want a girl with her background and a mouth?
The town of Colby came and went like a puff of smoke. Suddenly there was the exit Lisa told Mary to take to get to Rourke Ranch when they’d spoken on the phone the day before.
Oh, mercy, why was Mary doing what Lisa wanted? Again? Nothing good ever came from Lisa’s plans.
More importantly, Edward had warned Mary to stay away from her. Something about her being controlling and manipulative and he didn’t like Lisa’s influence on Mary.
Okay, Mary could meet with Lisa. But Mary had to be mad. She hadn’t wanted to come. Mary hadn’t wanted to see what Lisa needed. She didn’t want to do anything. She didn’t want to know anything about what Lisa was so ambiguous about.
Yes, dang it all, she did want to know. If she was completely honest with herself, she’d admit that curiosity consumed her. What would make Lisa call her after so long and ask to meet with her? Lisa wasn’t the humblest of women and Mary had known her long enough to realize that she was desperate, if she was calling Mary.
Why should Mary let anything go? Mary tossed her hair off her shoulders and growled. Startled at the vehemence in her display, she glanced around quickly to see if anyone had caught her, laughing nervously. “There’s no one to hear you, Mary dear. You’re alone in a car on an empty road, turning onto an even emptier street, surrounded by fields and forest.” She pulled a crazy face and stuck her tongue out just to prove she wasn’t crazy.
The dashboard didn’t laugh.
Wait. Her actions could prove she was crazy.
She was working on silly, when she had to get mad. Get mad. Get ready. She could do it. Lisa hadn’t hinted at the meaning behind their meeting. The only thing that Mary remembered as being mildly annoying about Lisa was she’d never had anything nice to say about Daddy, which Mary had to constantly stick up for him about.
He was a good guy, just rough around the edges.
She turned the car onto a long drive, pulling up to a rancher with a faded but well-kept log exterior. Other vehicles parked alongside the voluminous barn suggested she follow suit, but Mary had to stand her ground. She had to make sure everyone knew she wasn’t a push-over. She nodded her head sharply, leaving the car in the center of the driveway.
As if in slow motion, Mary turned off the car. The realism of the situation crashed around her. She’d always wondered if the rumors about Lisa and her were true. They looked a lot alike. Same eye color and hair.
So many times Mary had heard people whisper that they were sisters from the same father. What if Mary’s dad wasn’t her father? What if her mom had cheated on him?
The possibility that there would be a talk between Lisa and Mary had always haunted Mary in the back of her mind. What if Lisa was going to say they were sisters? Mary didn’t want to know for sure. She’d always been an only child and had enjoyed the attention. Secretly she’d wanted a sister, secretly had hoped for one.
Even with all her wishing and dreaming, she didn’t want that sister to be Lisa.
<
br /> Not when Lisa knew her shame.
Not when Lisa knew her.
Opening the door, Mary pushed from inside her Subaru, pressing her wild flower print skirt down her legs. The thing always bunched up. What she wouldn’t give to be able to wear jeans and capris and even shorts. But Edward would never allow anything so masculine.
Heck, if Dad hadn’t died, he’d never allow it either. Women belonged in dresses and skirts, not pants or anything else.
Dust lingered on the air from her drive up, and Mary wiped at her forehead. She shut the door, her phone clenched tightly in her fingers.
Still no sign of life for such a large ranch.
Glancing around in case Lisa had some sort of cruel surprise in store for her, Mary stepped away from the security of her car and headed toward the front door.
A strong vibration jerked in her hand.
She stopped, catching her breath. All of her taut nerves collected together, straining, near to snapping.
Edward had finally texted her.
She swiped the screen, grinding her teeth. Was she in trouble? She hadn’t asked him, she’d left a brief note on the counter, hoping he wouldn’t mind.
Where are you?
Hunching over the screen, Mary texted him back.
I’m up in Colby. I left you a note. I won’t be gone long.
She winced at his reply.
Get back here. Now.
Nodding, as if he could see her, Mary sent him a message back.
Okay. Leaving now.
Mary turned back to the car, shoulders slumping at the prospect of dealing with his anger when she returned. He didn’t hit her or anything, but sometimes she wished he would, just so she wouldn’t have to sit and bear his quiet condemnation or his yelling or even his rude comments until he felt she’d been punished long enough.
He was high class. His family had a great reputation two counties over and he was a manager at a hotel. He had prestige. No other men would ever consider her for marriage, especially with her last name.
A positive spin on leaving would be that she wouldn’t have to deal with being confronted by Lisa. She didn’t to deal with things she’d rather leave alone. Yeah, that was it. She could go back to her simple life and tell Lisa she wasn’t interested. Even though she was.
Mary climbed into her car and turned the engine over. Suddenly spurred on by the overwhelming desire to get out of there, she shifted into reverse, then drive.
In the rearview mirror, three women – two blonde and one brunette – hurried down the steps toward her.
“Where were you when I got here?” Mary wasn’t having it, she turned out of the driveway. The ranch disappeared in her rearview mirror. “Too little, too late.”
She had to get home because Edward told her to.
The text messages rolled in. Mary checked the first few as she drove. Each message angrier than the last, until Edward finally used only capitals and exclamation points. One from Lisa asking where she’d gone and to come back.
Chewing her bottom lip until it bled, Mary panted, glancing in her rearview mirror and to the side, gauging how fast she could go without getting in trouble. She couldn’t go any faster than she was or she’d be ticketed.
Barely above the speed limit through Colby, Mary tapped the wheel as she glanced around, continuing toward home. The sleepy town had changed since the last time she’d been up that way to visit her mom’s new place. A department store manned the end of Main Street. Specialty shops including a delicatessen dotted the storefronts. Wide sidewalks planted with lush green trees and bushes almost took more road than the street itself.
The enticement of the town left a small ache in her chest. She didn’t know her own town that well. What would it be like to walk the streets of Colby and say hi to the other townspeople? And none of them would care about her last name or who she was.
About a mile outside of Colby, a three-way fork in the road required her to stop and yield to oncoming traffic. A large white diesel truck with dually-tires pulled a long matching horse trailer in front of her.
Painstakingly slow.
Please, turn down another one of the roads. Come on. Please. Mary switched from chewing her lip to her inner cheek. Slight perspiration dotted the back of her neck. Edward wasn’t going to let her forget today.
The solid yellow line down the middle of the road prohibited her from passing. But she swerved to the side to see around the street-yacht. Nothing. Nobody. She could pass and safely.
She pulled back behind the truck and counted to three, catching her breath. She hated passing. The last time she’d done it, she’d almost run into the ditch. She yanked the wheel and pressed the gas.
Almost into an oncoming truck.
Shrieking, she veered back into her lane, laying on the horn. What was she doing?
Her phone buzzed and beeped. Buzzed and beeped. She reached over and turned off the cell. She wasn’t answering while driving and he would soon resort to calling.
Why couldn’t the truck go any faster? A fine coating of sweat dotted her forehead and moistened her palms. She breathed deep, trying not to go all road-rage about it, but it was hard with every second passing and she wasn’t getting that close to home.
Another stop sign and the trailer’s brake lights glared offensively at her, almost at eye level, the blinker indicating that he was going right.
Thank Heaven! She was going straight. He’d be out of her way and she could zoom on by. A small wave of relief relaxed the tight tension between her shoulder blades. She leaned her elbow on the closed window seal and rested her head on her hand. Only a couple more seconds.
But the truck didn’t pull forward. The driver had pulled into the middle of the road, readying himself for the tighter turn. He didn’t leave enough road on either side for her to pull around.
What was he doing?
Panic gripped her. What was she going to do? The loss of control as the situation unraveled sent a headache between her eyes. Oh, heck no. This was unacceptable. People can’t just stop in the middle of the street. Plenty of shoulders dotted the roads. He should have used one of them so other vehicles could pass.
But again, what could she do? She was just a girl.
In the rearview mirror, far off in the distance, a dot became a bigger dot and more recognizable as a car. Nope, scratch that, not a car, Lisa’s truck.
Well, Mary didn’t have any more time to sit there bemoaning her sex. She was going to make the truck get going, that’s what she was going to do.
She shoved the car into park and pushed open the door, wishing – not for the first time that day – that she’d worn some kind of pants, even if they had been dress pants. She didn’t feel very strong or empowered in a dress. On a day where so much assertiveness was necessary, a woman should’ve had the right to wear whatever the heck she pleased.
Slamming the door shut, Mary stomped around the side of the trailer. She couldn’t release her frustration onto Lisa and she had to get out of there before Lisa got there. For some reason, Lisa always knew what to say and do to win an argument. Mary couldn’t confront Lisa, but by golly, she was going to confront the driver on his slow driving and frustratingly rude stopping patterns.
Maybe.
Book 4, Regretting Redemption