“Show me the way. I will trust in you to guide me. But I am scared. I don’t want to fail again. Please show me the way.”
*
Rhea jerked awake. She was in her room, in her bed, surrounded by her things. She took a deep breath and rubbed her face. Her eyes were swollen and her skin was raw from crying. She took another deep breath and remembered the events of the night before. She closed her eyes again. She didn’t want to relive that nightmare. What would Morgan think of her now? She didn’t want to leave, but now that people knew who she was, things would be a lot harder. Morgan would have a hard time getting work once word got out that she had a convicted murderer living at her farm.
She winced at the stab of pain at the thought of what this could do to Morgan. Morgan had believed her. She had comforted her. Rhea blew out a breath. She had waited sixteen years for someone to do that. Morgan had held her without judgment or blame.
Somehow she had let her guard down, and for the first time she hadn’t been hurt as a result. How could she run away now? Where would she go?
Rhea pushed herself out of bed. She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples and tried to stop the pounding headache that beat against her skull. Despite the pain in her head and salt scratching against her eyeballs, there was a new lightness in her heart. Telling her story had been like taking off a heavy pack that had been strapped to her back. She felt like herself, whoever that was. She wasn’t pretending and she wasn’t hiding anymore. She was standing on her own choices and living by her own values.
Rhea stopped midstep as she came into the living room. Morgan was asleep on her couch. She had one of the old quilts pulled up to her chin and had her coat draped across her feet. Rhea shook her head in disbelief. What was she going to do with this woman? It was as if all the good Rhea had looked for in the world was rolled up in Morgan.
Rhea sighed. If Morgan wanted her to stay, she wouldn’t have the strength to leave. She would move heaven and earth to repay Morgan. She retreated to the bathroom to wash away the tearstains on her skin before slipping into the kitchen to make coffee.
As she expected, it didn’t take long for Morgan to stir once the smell of coffee filled the air.
“Hey,” Rhea said as she set a mug on the coffee table in front of Morgan.
Morgan smiled and rubbed her eyes. “Hey.” She sat up and cradled the cup of coffee in her hands as if it held the elixir of life. She inhaled deeply and groaned. “Ah, that smells good.”
Rhea smiled and sipped her own coffee. She sat back in a rocking chair and studied Morgan. “What are you doing here?”
Morgan’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave you alone last night, and I hoped you wouldn’t mind if I crashed on the couch.”
Rhea softened. “Thanks. Sorry I dumped everything on you last night. I guess I was just tired of carrying it all around by myself.”
Morgan ran her thumb back and forth over the rim of her mug. “I’m glad you told me. I can’t imagine what all this has been like for you.”
Rhea nodded slowly, acknowledging the gravity of her situation. “People aren’t going to like me being here now. It won’t take long for word to get around, and that could hurt your business.”
Morgan stared at Rhea thoughtfully as if she could see inside her soul. “Maybe. But it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dealt with scandal. I think I can handle it.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe I should start considering other arrangements.”
“Other arrangements? You mean leaving?”
Rhea tried to sound cool, but inside she was terrified. Leaving wasn’t just an option—it was a probability. “It might be better for both of us if I moved on. You don’t need this kind of trouble.”
Morgan sat forward and rested her elbows on her knees. Her expression was serious, and Rhea braced herself for what Morgan would decide.
“It’s going to be like this wherever you go. Eventually someone will learn about your past, and you’ll have to face those judgments. You can either spend the rest of your life running, or you can stay here and work through it. A lot has changed in fifteen years. People know more about child abuse now than they did back then. Give them a chance to understand.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“No. I imagine it isn’t. But those are your choices. It’s up to you.” Morgan drained her coffee and set the mug down with an air of finality. “Besides, you have a tractor to rebuild.”
Rhea shook her head. She couldn’t believe Morgan was willing to stick this out with her. She wouldn’t find that offer in many places. It would be hard to start over, and she was still on parole. It wasn’t like she had a free ticket or a clean slate. Maybe Morgan was right. Maybe she needed to stick it out.
“Okay, I’ll try, but no promises,” Rhea said.
“I’m not asking for any,” Morgan replied with a serious note in her voice.
Rhea took a deep breath of relief and thought about everything Morgan had said. Something stood out to her. Morgan said this wouldn’t be the first time she had dealt with scandal. What did that mean? Was she talking about losing her priesthood? Or was she talking about Ashley? Or was it something else? Morgan had given her bits and pieces of her life, but none of the details. What else was there to the good-hearted ex-priest who thought love could save the world?
Morgan pushed her hands through her hair and sighed. “Well, I need to see to the animals. You sure you’re okay?” It had been a tough night, and she had no idea what was going through Rhea’s mind. Rhea’s raw emotion and instinct to flee had not only scared her, it had shown her just how deeply people could hurt one another. She hadn’t trusted Rhea when she first came to the farm, and she knew that others would come to worse conclusions once the word got out that Rhea had been convicted of murder.
“I’m okay. I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”
Morgan nodded and smiled. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Rhea opened the door. She spoke just as Morgan was about to step outside. “Thanks for staying with me last night. You didn’t have to do that.”
Morgan hesitated before meeting Rhea’s eyes. “I was glad to do it. I’m glad you trusted me.” Morgan swallowed hard. “You aren’t alone anymore.”
Rhea smiled and dropped her gaze. “Thanks.”
Morgan wanted to brush her hand along Rhea’s cheek, reassure her things would be all right, but knew she shouldn’t. It was her instinct to protect Rhea, to want to help her discover a different life, but she had no idea how that would happen. She had always jumped into things headfirst without thinking of the cost, and she had always paid a heavy price. Warning bells were blaring in her mind, but the memory of the anguish on Rhea’s face was enough to push her to ignore the danger to herself. No one had ever stood up for Rhea. It was time someone did.
Morgan stepped away and sketched a wave in the air as she retreated. Something told her Rhea would need a little time after everything that had happened, and if she was honest with herself, she could use a little air. Holding Rhea had stirred a cacophony of emotions. She had wanted to soothe her, protect her, grieve with her, rage with her, but there had been a moment when things had shifted. She had become acutely aware of how perfectly Rhea fit against her. She could smell the gentle hint of mint and orange and wild mountain air when she pressed her check against Rhea’s hair. Rhea’s breath brushed against her skin and a ripple of desire had coursed through her.
Guilt forced its way to the front of Morgan’s awareness. She couldn’t believe she could even consider the simmering attraction when Rhea was in so much pain. But it had been Rhea’s vulnerability that had completed the formula of desire. Rhea was undeniably beautiful, strong, witty, smart, and talented. It was Rhea’s willingness to show her weakness, her raw emotion, that had shown Morgan the depth of her strength. Rhea’s willingness to trust after what she had been through was incomprehensible, but there she was, allowing herself to be held, comforted, and even touched.
Morgan’s heart raced. That was her pattern, wasn’t it? She was drawn to damaged women, someone she could save. Well, she wasn’t in that business anymore, and she needed to get her body to understand that. Rhea was off-limits. She needed a friend, someone she could trust, and that was exactly who Morgan planned to be for her.
Chapter Eight
Morgan picked up the phone as her cell began to play “Trouble” by Pink. “Hey, J.J., what’s up?”
“Hey, Morgan, how are things going up there?”
“Good. Why?” Morgan asked as a knot formed in her gut.
“I got a call from the Anderson County sheriff’s department. The sheriff up there says he’s received several complaints this week about Rhea. He says the folks there in Andersonville aren’t happy to find out they have a convicted murderer living in their town.”
Morgan’s hand tightened around the phone. “So what did he want?”
Morgan heard the frustration in J.J.’s sigh as her breath rattled through the cell connection. “Nothing yet. He just wanted to let me know he wasn’t happy about the flak he’s receiving. He understands Rhea isn’t doing anything wrong by being there, but he made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate any problems in his town.”
Morgan closed her eyes against the dull pain that pressed against the back of her eyes.
“Morgan?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened? I know something had to trigger this mess.”
Morgan sighed. “We ran into someone who recognized Rhea. Let’s just say he was a big fan of her father and didn’t take too well to her being out.”
“Damn, that’s rough.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Morgan said through gritted teeth.
“So I take it she told you about her dad…what happened?”
“Yeah, she told me.”
There was silence on the line. She could almost hear the thoughts in J.J.’s brain. Morgan waited.
“Are you okay?” J.J. asked.
“I can’t say I’m happy about any of this, but give it a little time and people will get over themselves.”
“I don’t know, Morgan. I don’t like this. The sheriff made it sound like people are considering something drastic.”
“What does that mean?” Morgan barked. “What are they going to do, send out a lynch mob?”
“Hell, I don’t know, I wouldn’t put it past some of those backwoods Bubbas.”
Morgan thrust her hand into her hair and pulled at the strands in frustration. “Look, Rhea is doing a good job. She hasn’t left the farm in a week, and these folks will just have to figure things out for themselves. You know how gossip is around here. But whatever they’re saying, Rhea hasn’t done anything to give anyone a reason to worry.”
She heard J.J. sigh. “Okay. Just be careful. I don’t want you getting caught up in anything. Let me know if you have any problems.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Morgan ended the call. Her mouth had gone dry, and her hands were shaking. It had been the same when the church pushed her out. There had been constant whispers, blatant disdain, threats, and the daily phone calls from people telling her she was an abomination. That had been the worst. People she cared for, people she thought of as friends suddenly treated her like she was a danger to their values and beliefs, despite most knowing her for her entire life.
She braced herself for the madness to begin again. That was how she’d started doing so many different jobs. It was a way to make ends meet. She looked out over the studio and hoped the customers she had would trust her to run her own business and wouldn’t care who she paid to change the oil and spark plugs in their lawn mower. How much would it take before Rhea gave up and left?
She had watched this town drain the life out of Ashley to the point where she wouldn’t leave the house, until finally something broke. Ashley knew the farm had been Morgan’s family home, and she would never want to leave. So in the end Ashley hadn’t asked her to go. She gave in, gave up, and walked away. By the time Morgan had gathered the courage to fight for her, it had been too late.
Morgan shuddered. A warning voice whispered in the recesses of her mind. People don’t change. She clenched her jaw. Ashley had changed and she had worked for years to prove it. Ashley hadn’t failed. She had lost hope when she lost the church, her family, and her friends. I wasn’t enough and I didn’t fight hard enough to save her. Morgan drew in a deep breath and resolved not to let the same thing happen to Rhea.
*
Rhea listened to the rain hammer against the tin roof of the workshop. She sat on the floor and studied the diagram of the Ford engine. There was something soothing in the rhythmic thrum of the rain and the smell of dirt and grease from the old tractor. She ran her fingers across the diagram and cataloged the parts laid out on the floor in front of her. There was so much more going on than just a bunch of parts, grease, and gasoline. The tractor had lived a life of purpose, and the scars were evident in its faded red paint, the rust eating at its bones and the remnants of some long-ago crop in a faraway field caked in its crevices like wrinkles etched in skin.
She had removed the old nests of mice she found under the engine cover. The rodents had done a number on the electrical and hoses, but those would have needed to be replaced anyway. Something thudded against the rear wall of the shop, and Rhea jumped. She stared at the wall, her heart thundering in her chest, and her skin crawled as if every cell in her body had gone on alert. After a few minutes of silence, she shook herself. She was used to all sorts of noises coming from the animals in the barn, but nothing should have been able to hit the wall of the shop. She glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning. Rhea listened. She tried to make out any sounds that stood out against the hammering of the rain on metal but didn’t hear anything out of place. She licked her lips and convinced herself she was being paranoid. There was no way anyone would be out in this weather, in the middle of nowhere, at this hour of the morning. Maybe Morgan was stirring about, checking the animals again.
Rhea rubbed her hand across the back of her neck and sighed. That could be it. She’d seen Morgan out all hours of the night walking the land, checking the animals, or spending all night in her studio. Rhea often wondered what kept Morgan up at night and how she found the energy to do so many things. Rhea was daydreaming and was surprised to find her thoughts had drifted to the gentle sound of Morgan’s voice and the calm resolve that was always so clear in her eyes. Instantly the tense muscles in her shoulders began to relax as if she had been lulled into a peaceful dream. How did that happen? How did the thought of Morgan always manage to soothe her?
Rhea smiled and put the diagram aside. Maybe she should call it a night. A loud crash in the back room had her scrambling to her feet. Every cell in her body hummed with adrenaline. She picked up a crowbar from the nearest shelf and gripped it in her fist. The cold bite of metal against her skin grounded her, and she drew in a deep breath to steady herself. She moved to the back of the workshop and listened for any other sign of an intruder. She stepped up to the storeroom door and took a deep, steadying breath. Her heart pounded against her eardrums, and she fought to focus on the present. Her mind drifted and she was suddenly eight years old, standing at her bedroom door, listening for her father’s footfall in the hallway. Her nails bit into the palm of her hand, and she swallowed the panic welling up in her throat.
Rhea shook her head and rubbed her hand across her face. She couldn’t go back there. She had to keep it together. She pushed against the door and winced at the creak of the old hinges.
He’s coming.
Rhea stepped through the door and peered into the darkness. She bolted toward the back door when she heard it slam shut. She raced after him. This had to stop. Her knees were weak, and she feared they would give way at any moment, but she was done hiding. If he wanted her, he would have to kill her.
Rhea scrambled around the corner of the barn, careened into hard muscle, and bounced off. She drew back the crowbar
and screamed as a cold hand closed around her wrist and a strong arm slammed her against the barn.
“Rhea!”
Rhea fought to free herself. She couldn’t let him win, not this time, not ever again.
“Rhea, stop it, it’s me.”
Rhea struggled and cried. “Stop. Please. Stop.”
“Okay, Rhea. Listen to me.”
The strong hand wrenched the crowbar from her grip. Rhea waited, her eyes clenched as she tried to shut out what was happening to her. She couldn’t look at him. She hated that look in his eyes.
“Rhea, I’m going to let go. I need you to calm down.”
The grip on her arms loosened.
“Rhea, look at me. Come on, Rhea, open your eyes.”
Rhea drew in a shaky breath and opened her eyes. She frowned, and it took a moment for the past to separate from the present.
“Come on, Rhea, it’s me.”
Rhea blinked as reality settled the torrent of fear ravaging her mind. “Morgan?” Rhea gasped.
Morgan smiled. “Hey, there.”
Rhea’s mind raced as she tried to put together the pieces and tried to make sense of what was happening. Morgan’s body was pressed against hers and cold rain pelted against her face. Morgan took a step back, and Rhea instantly missed the warmth of her body and wanted to reach out for her.
“What’s going on out here? And what’s with the crowbar?”
Rhea’s gaze settled on the heavy metal bar in Morgan’s hand. “Oh God, Morgan, I’m so sorry.”
Morgan shook her head. “Just tell me what happened.”
Rhea started to shiver. “I heard something in the storeroom. I thought I saw someone run out and I followed them. I didn’t realize it was you.”
Morgan looked around. “I wasn’t in the storeroom. It wasn’t me.”
Love’s Redemption Page 10
