by Francis Ray
“Don’t ever stop letting him know how important he is to you,” Stella said, her voice a bit unsteady. “Never take anything for granted.”
Faith’s hand covered her mother’s. “I won’t. I’ve loved Brandon for too long to ever take what we have for granted. I still get giddy when I see him. I’m blessed and so very thankful that he’s the same way.”
Stella’s hand covered her daughter’s. “It’s easy to see how much you two love each other.”
“So I’ve been told.” Faith withdrew her hand and forked up a bite of meatloaf. “I’ve already said my blessing. Delicious. Let’s finish eating and then we can talk about my ideas for the house.”
Stella folded her hands in her lap again. “I ate a little bit. I guess I’m not very hungry.”
Faith placed her fork on her plate and stared across the table. “We both know why. Not eating isn’t going to make things better. Only you can do that.”
“I’m not sure I can,” Stella answered honestly.
“I am.” Faith braced her arms on the edge of the table. “I’m the person I am today because of you and Daddy. You can do this.”
Regardless of the monumental mistake Stella had made, she hadn’t turned her daughter against her. As she’d told Paul, helping to renovate the house was only the second thing Faith had ever asked of either of them.
If she walked away, she’d never be able to face Faith or look at herself in the mirror. Somehow she’d find a way to work with Paul. She had to. Stella picked up her fork. “Let’s not wait. I’d like to hear your ideas now.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Paul had a miserable night and his day wasn’t about to improve. He was too aware of how many times Stella’s name came to mind. Not a good sign.
He moved away from the window in the dining room and into the small foyer across from the living room. Stella had wanted the separate rooms instead of a large great room as most of the houses at the time had. She’d wanted a Southern “feel,” and loving her, he’d agreed. Luckily they’d been able to find a lot in a housing development they’d liked. The builder had been happy to make the changes in the blueprint.
At the time, his parents were running the hotel, and his check had been meager. He and Stella had saved by doing a lot of the finishing work themselves. The woman he’d fallen in love with and married hadn’t been afraid of hard work. The woman coming up the walk in tan slacks and a beige silk blouse probably hadn’t washed her own clothes or dishes in years.
The lock turned. His teeth clenched; his arms crossed.
Faith, a warm smile on her pretty face, came in first. “Good morning, Daddy.”
He accepted her hug. “Good morning, baby.”
“I left a message on your cell and in your room to meet us for breakfast,” she said.
“I wanted to get an early start.” The lie slipped out easily.
Faith’s eyes widened. “Did you start on the tear-outs of the countertops?”
“I did.” He caught her arm as she started for the kitchen. “Not so fast. It’s a mess in there. I already took pictures so we can see the before and after. You and Brandon get to look once I’ve gotten everything torn up and out.”
Faith laughed. “You’re probably right.” She glanced back at her mother standing just inside the door. “I have a cooler in the car with food and water. You both know you can come and go as you please or go out to eat. Henri sent more good food.”
“He cooks a mean rib eye,” Paul said. Too bad he hadn’t been able to fully enjoy the steak for thinking and worrying about Stella.
“I’ll tell him,” Faith said, then glanced between the two again. “Thank you again for doing this for us. I’ll see you when I see you. Mama, don’t forget we’re meeting Brandon for dinner at six.” She turned to her father. “You’re expected as well.”
“I’d like to get as much done here as I can today,” he said evasively. No way was he going through that again.
Faith blew out a breath. “We’ll see. Please come get the cooler. I would have carried it in, but I promised Brandon I’d let you.” Faith started back out of the house.
“I could have gotten it, Faith,” Stella said.
Paul snorted as he passed her. “You don’t want to risk breaking a nail, do you?” He didn’t look back to see if he’d struck a nerve. He didn’t have to. Her sharp intake of breath was enough. He thought he’d feel victorious. He didn’t.
At the back of the Porsche, he lifted out the hard-shell cooler. “Brandon was right. This thing is heavy.”
“I wanted to make sure you had enough to drink.” Faith closed the hatch. “The appliance store is delivering a refrigerator and a microwave tomorrow that can go in the garage so they’ll be out of the way. Brandon hired someone to come in each day around five and haul things away so you won’t have to worry about that.”
He wished they’d haul his ex away. “You seem to have thought of everything.”
Her face saddened. “No. Not the most important thing.”
He shook his head. “Faith, it’s—”
“Don’t say it, Daddy, please.” Her voice trembled.
Paul sat the cooler down and hugged her tightly. “It’s all right. Go take care of the hotel. I’ll see you tonight.”
“For dinner?”
“We’ll see.” He released her and picked up the cooler. “Drive carefully.”
Her lips lifted into a smile. “Yes, sir.” She stepped to the side and waved. “Bye, Mama. See you tonight.”
“Good-bye, Faith. Drive carefully,” her mother called.
“I will.” Still smiling, Faith got into the SUV and drove away.
Paul’s hand clenched on the cooler handle. He’d give anything to be anywhere but here. Blowing out a breath he turned and started slowly up the walk. At least Stella no longer stood in the doorway.
He entered the house and closed the door. Hoping she was in the dining room thinking about the mural she wanted to paint, he continued to the kitchen. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. “What are you doing?”
Stella spun around, the crowbar in her hand. “Tearing out the countertop.”
He stared at her. She didn’t have on a face mask or gloves. She knew better. She wasn’t a novice at this. The only reason he could think of was that she was trying to get him to feel sorry for her or entice him. It annoyed the hell out of him that she’d succeeded.
What woman in her right mind wore makeup, a silk blouse that gently flowed over her rounded breasts, and fitted pants that showed off her firm butt and long legs to do a tear-out? At sixty, she remained a beautiful woman with soft skin and lips a man had a hard time ignoring. He’d told her that too many times to count.
And it hadn’t meant a thing to her.
Paul’s gaze turned to ice. “I’m immune. Since I don’t see another man in here, you’re wasting your time wearing silk and makeup.”
Stella’s free hand fluttered to her chest. “I-I—”
“Save it. I’m not interested in anything you have to say,” he interrupted harshly. “Go on back to the hotel.” He placed the cooler on the floor and took the crowbar from her unsteady hand. “I don’t need you. Maybe you’ll find another rich man there, like last time.”
Mortified, stunned, Stella turned blindly for the front door. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. In the dining room, she grabbed her clutch. She had to get out of there.
Praying the tears wouldn’t start falling, she fumbled to unclasp her purse for her cell phone. She should have known that she and Paul could never work together.
He was too angry.
On the porch, she finally pulled out her phone. Her hand trembled so badly she kept entering the wrong number for information for a cab company. There was no way she was calling Faith.
“Good morning, Stella.”
Stella’s head came up and around. Ruth Grayson was coming up the sidewalk. She was dressed comfortably in a long denim skirt and blue blouse. “Sierra told me last even
ing that you and Paul were doing the remodeling job on your old house for Brandon and Faith. I take it that things are not going well.”
Stella shook her head. If she tried to speak, she’d cry.
Ruth placed a comforting hand on Stella’s trembling shoulder. “Paul’s a good man.”
And she hadn’t been a good woman. “He’ll never forgive me.”
“You hurt him, Stella,” Ruth said gently. She’d never been one to shade the truth.
Since it was a fact and every one of their friends knew it, there was no sense denying it even if she’d wanted to. There was no justification for what she’d done.
“The Paul I knew was always willing to forgive and move on,” Ruth reminded her.
“Not this time.” Stella had hoped, prayed, but it was too late.
“It’s harder for him this time because the pain is so deep and so very personal.”
Stella swallowed the lump in her throat. “My fault.”
Ruth placed her other hand on Stella’s other shoulder and turned her firmly toward her. “And you’re the only one who can fix it.”
“I don’t know how.” Stella brushed the heel of her palm over her eyes. “He even criticized my wearing makeup, saying I must be looking for another man.” She couldn’t repeat that he’d said he was immune.
“Then don’t wear any.”
Stella was already shaking her head. “He’ll see the dark circles. Besides, I look better with makeup.” He was right again about her wanting to entice him, but it had backfired. Again. She should have learned her lesson the first time.
“He’s seen you without makeup before and didn’t complain,” Ruth reminded her. “Perhaps he should see that you’re hurting and grieving for what you lost. Stop hiding from him, Stella, and show him.”
Stella bit her lower lip. “I made a horrible mistake. You wouldn’t have walked away from Vincent.”
Ruth had already lost her husband before she and her five young children moved to Santa Fe. However, from the way her face softened when she spoke of him, Stella didn’t have a shred of doubt that they’d shared an unshakable bond.
“Neither would he have left if a higher power hadn’t made it so,” Ruth said with absolute conviction.
“Paul can’t stand to even look at me at times.” Stella’s hands clenched her small purse.
“You’re feeling what he’s felt for years, the hopelessness, the anger, the pain,” Ruth told her. “While you see your mistake in leaving, he only sees you leaving when he desperately wanted you to stay. He’s afraid to trust his heart again. He’s trying to protect himself.”
Stella wasn’t so sure. She desperately wanted to believe she still had a chance to right a terrible wrong and get her husband back. “I don’t know.”
“I do. I’ve seen him looking at you when he thought no one was watching him.”
Hope unfurled in Stella’s heart. Ruth Grayson was honest and perceptive. “Do-do you really think so?”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. I knew it would be rough on both of you for the first couple of days.” Ruth smiled. “Love is worth fighting for and too precious to waste.”
Stella drew in a deep shuddering breath. Ruth knew what she was talking about. More importantly, she had a way of helping people find and keep that love. She had successfully married off four of her five children.
Besides helping Brandon and Faith find each other, she’d also been instrumental in helping Stella’s oldest son, Duncan, and Raven get together. “How do I get him to trust me again?”
“You have to show him that he can,” Ruth instructed. “You have to remember that whenever he lashes out it’s not intentionally to hurt you. It’s his anger and him trying to push you away again.”
“I’m not sure if I can.”
Ruth stepped away. “Then I’ll take you back to the hotel and you can pack.”
Surprise widened Stella’s eyes. “I thought you wanted to help.”
“I do, but you have to be strong enough to help yourself,” Ruth said. “You have to want his love more than you want anything else in this world.”
Stella wished she could be as self-assured as Ruth about Paul’s feelings for her. “We both know the children set this up.”
“Then thank God and the Master of Breath, and don’t waste this precious time.” Ruth leaned in closer. “Don’t look back, but he’s watching from the window.”
It was all Stella could do not to look around. “I love him so much. I didn’t realize how much until I lost him.”
“Then take the chance.”
“If I fail?”
“You’ll know you tried.”
There was really no choice. “Ruth, could you please give me a ride back to the hotel?”
“To pack?”
“To go shopping for clothes more appropriate to wear doing the remodeling.” Stella smiled. “I’m going to take my shot and do my best to get Paul back.”
* * *
Paul couldn’t hear what his ex and Ruth were saying. With her back to him, he couldn’t tell if she had been crying. He rubbed his hand over his face. He shouldn’t care. He’d cried. Begged.
He turned away from the window. She’d almost emasculated him. Now she wanted him back. He knew the looks. The problem was he wasn’t immune to them as he’d told her. The more he was around her, the more he wanted to forgive her and take her back.
He couldn’t. He worried if she left him again he would go down so far he’d never pull himself back again. He wanted to keep the respect of his children, have his grandson look at him with pride.
Paul just wished he knew what to do. Snapping at her was wrong. If nothing else, she was the mother of his children. Besides, he was finding that when he hurt her, he felt the pain as well. So did Faith if she was around.
He looked back out the window. Ruth’s car was gone. There was no telling where they’d gone. One thing he did know, Stella wouldn’t go looking for a man. She hadn’t gone looking the first time. The snake was a guest of the hotel.
Needing to work off some of his anger, Paul returned to the kitchen and picked up the crowbar and began to work. With each pull he envisioned the bastard who’d taken his wife. He accepted long ago that she didn’t have to go. He’d also accepted that she’d left because something was missing from their relationship.
Happy women didn’t divorce their husbands. The wood on the ledge of the kitchen window popped free. He’d asked her to stay. To talk to their pastor. He’d never asked her why. He realized later he hadn’t wanted to hear the answer; he hadn’t wanted to hear that he’d failed her in some way.
Another board popped free. It was easier to blame her and the man who filled a need, a void he couldn’t. But the anger and the blame were eating him alive. He didn’t like the petty, accusing man he’d become around her. Yet, he wasn’t sure how to become the forgiving man he’d once been.
He paused, the crowbar clutched in both hands. He’d always known what he wanted to do, what came next … until Stella walked out on him. In the years since, he’d never managed to find the same fulfillment, the same joy when he woke up in the morning. He loved his children, doted on his grandson, Joshua, but it wasn’t enough to fill the vacant spot in his heart.
He knew what would and he also knew the risk.
Placing the crowbar on the edge of the counter, he got a bottle of water from the cooler and opened it. There were two ways he could handle this. One would be honorable, the other reprehensible.
He’d think about it for a couple of days before he came to a decision. He had better be sure when he did, because if he went with the latter, she’d hate him for the rest of her life.
He just had to figure out if, deep down, he was strong enough to trust that she’d stick around this time or if he was strong enough to incur her hatred so she’d never come near him again.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was after five and Stella hadn’t returned. No matter how hard Paul tried, he couldn’t ke
ep from worrying about her. He kept going to the front to look out the window in spite of himself. He didn’t want to think that she might have left and gone back to New York. That might solve his problem, but it would make Faith unhappy. They’d burdened their daughter enough.
Despite being troubled by Stella’s absence, Paul had torn out the kitchen countertops, removed the cabinet doors, and had most of the tile off the floor. With three kids and their friends tracking in and out of the house, the flooring had taken a beating.
Tomorrow he’d finish in the kitchen, then move on to pulling up the carpet from the living room. The carpet in the master bedroom he’d save for last. The only rooms that didn’t have wall-to-wall carpet were the kitchen, baths, dining room, and Duncan’s room. Stella had wanted the carpet because of the cold floors. The climate was much warmer in Charleston.
Vaguely annoyed with himself, Paul returned to pulling up the tile squares. He had to stop thinking about her. When he made his decision, it had to be what was best for him in the long run, not how much working in the house they’d shared so much love and laughter in made him want to forget and move forward.
He straightened and glanced at his watch. It was 5:35 p.m. Faith had invited him and her mother to dinner at Brandon’s restaurant. If he went he’d at least know if Stella was still in town and planned to stay. He didn’t want to alarm Faith if she hadn’t seen her mother. No, the simplest way was to go to the dinner and, if Stella was there, try to be cordial.
But he wouldn’t take any bets on it.
* * *
By the time Paul returned to his hotel room, showered, and changed, it was ten past six. Aware of the parking situation at Brandon’s restaurant, he took a cab. The Red Cactus wasn’t that far, but if he walked it would make him even later, he reasoned as the cab pulled up in front of the restaurant, not that he was anxious to see if Stella was there.
If she’d left, Faith was smart enough to know he was the reason. He wasn’t sure what he’d tell her. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
He paid the driver and walked past the relatively short line. It wouldn’t remain that way as the evening wore on. His son-in-law’s restaurant was extremely popular.
