by Francis Ray
“Because she is my friend and, despite what happened between you and Stella, your children never stopped loving her,” Ruth said. “That said a lot about her character and the kind of mother she was.”
“It didn’t stop other people,” he said, his anger escalating.
“It’s not my place to judge. I have too much going on in my own life to gossip. I might interfere in my children’s lives and a few others, but it’s out of a deep love and respect for them,” she said. “Stella loves her family.”
Her family. Not just her children. Ruth had included him.
“Paul, she took a wrong turn, recognized it, and is trying to get back to where her heart and her soul will be at peace once again.”
With him. He stopped pacing. “I—”
“Paul, you’re a good man. You were a good role model for Brandon, who didn’t have a father. I felt comfortable with him being at your home so much, sleeping over, going fishing and hunting with you and your boys. He always returned home happy,” Ruth said quietly. “Now, he has Faith and they’re blissfully ecstatic. You and Stella’s love gave him his heart’s desire. I’d like to see both of you find the contentment and love you found only with each other.”
Paul rubbed the back of his neck. No wonder her children were so strong, independent, and successful. Their mother didn’t pull her punches. “Some things just aren’t meant to be.”
“Who says?” Ruth quickly came back. “Strong people with the guidance of God and the Master of Breath shape their own destiny, shape their own lives. They don’t let life shape them. You took a hard knock, so did I when I lost Vincent. Nothing would have kept us apart if the choice hadn’t been taken from us. You have another chance. I’d give anything if that were possible for me.”
Paul’s throat felt tight. Ruth didn’t have to bare her soul to him. She’d done so to help him and give him a swift kick and a strong dose of reality. “Vincent must have been a wonderful man.”
“He was. Luke reminds me of Vincent so much. I’m blessed to have the children.”
Paul heard what she didn’t say, because he’d felt the same thing. You loved your children, but they didn’t make up for the loss of a spouse or replace a spouse. “Good night, Ruth, and thanks.”
“Thank me by talking, really talking, to Stella tomorrow,” she told him. “You might be surprised by what you learn.”
“I just might do that. Good night.”
“Good night, Paul.”
Paul ended the call and just stood there. He’d blamed and judged as well. Maybe it was time to ask the tough questions and face what would surely be the even tougher answers.
* * *
For the first time in months, Stella slept peacefully. The second the alarm clock went off, she was out of bed and headed to the shower. She wasn’t sure what the day with Paul would be like, but she wasn’t afraid anymore. He’d stood up for her last night when he didn’t have to. She just hoped and prayed they could build on that as they worked to finish by Mother’s Day.
She swallowed as a long-forgotten memory slipped into her mind. After Duncan was born, no matter what other gift Paul might give her for Mother’s Day, that night she’d always find a single red rose and a box of gourmet chocolates on her pillow. This year she’d settle for not seeing scorn on his face or hearing it in his voice.
Less than thirty-five minutes later after a quick breakfast, Stella parked her rental behind Paul’s truck and got out. She opened the trunk and reached for the hard-shell ice chest.
“I’ll get that.”
She jumped, then smiled as Paul quickly reached her. “Good morning. Thank you.” He must have been watching for her. “Henri prepared lunch for us.”
Paul picked up the ice chest. “Don’t forget your gear.”
Stella patted her large handbag. “It’s all in here. I’m wearing hard-sole shoes. I’m ready to help.”
He stared at her for a few seconds then started back up the walkway. Stella followed. She knew that pensive look. He was thinking about something. She couldn’t tell if it was about them or something else. In the past, he’d liked to work things out on his own.
She followed him back inside and removed her gear from her purse. She frowned. It was too quiet. Her goggles on top of her head, her mask around her neck, she went to the kitchen. Paul leaned against the shell of the counter. “You got a lot done.”
“I think we should talk,” he said.
Her heart thumped in her chest. This could be the beginning or the end for them. “All right.”
He pushed away from the cabinet, glanced around. “You can sit on the cooler.”
“Thank you, but I’m too nervous to sit,” she answered and received a startled look from him. “I want to be honest with you, Paul. I threw away my life with you for an illusion of love and happiness. By the time I realized it, it was too late.”
“Why?”
“Why did I believe him?” she asked.
“Why did you leave me?” he barked, his dark eyes blazing with fury and pain. “What did he give you that I couldn’t?”
Her hands clenched. Her eyes closed. She didn’t want to hurt him.
“Tell me!”
Her eyes snapped open. They’d never begin to heal until everything was out in the open. “You were always busy with running the hotel. We never seemed to have any time for ourselves. You barely noticed me anymore. I was afraid of losing you and decided to make you jealous so you’d pay more attention to me, talk to me the way you used to.” She swallowed. “It got out of control somehow as we drifted further apart and you shut me out more.”
“I was busy trying to keep the hotel profitable.” He shoved his hand over his head. “Grandfather always said how easy it was for a McBride male to make money. It wasn’t that way for me. I didn’t want to fail you or the generations before me. I didn’t want you to know how scared I was that I’d be the first McBride male to fail.”
“Paul.” She went to him. “I’m sorry you couldn’t confide in me. Even sorrier that I didn’t lock us in a room and tell you how miserable and lonely I was. I ran away from our problems instead of facing them. I failed us.”
“I did, too,” he admitted. “I have to share the blame. I ought to have remembered how we always worked together, shared everything. I should have never put the hotel above our marriage.”
“And I should have been more sensitive, instead I started thinking you didn’t care.” She moved away from him. “I listened to Trevor saying the only reason you wanted me was to work, and later because another man did, that if you loved me, you’d be as attentive as he was. He’d proven his love and devotion by not pushing for us to be intimate until after we were married because he wanted to spend a lifetime with me.”
“The conniving bastard,” Paul spat. “I was lost without you.”
“The same way I was without you.” Stella faced Paul. “The marriage never felt right. I really tried, but I didn’t fit in with his friends or their lifestyles. Trevor liked to tell his friends that he had to marry me to get me into bed. He thought it was funny. I cringed each time he told it.” She shook her head.
“He was a different man in New York than he was here. In Santa Fe he appeared to be his own man, but there he was always worried about what other people thought, always trying to make sure he remained on the A-list, that he threw the best parties, had the best wine cellar. Frankly, I was surprised the marriage lasted as long as it did,” Stella conceded.
“You tossed away everything for that?”
She looked Paul straight into his eyes, saw the pain, hoped he saw hers. “Yes, for a cheap illusion of happiness when I had the real thing with you all along—if I had been strong enough to fight for it.”
“What’s to keep you from running after another illusion?” Paul asked.
“You,” she answered simply. “Me. I hurt you in too many ways to imagine. I can only ask your forgiveness and tell you that my feet are planted firmly on the ground. I know who I
am and what I want.”
“Do you?” he taunted. “Sometimes you acted as if you’d shatter when I said something to you.”
“Because I was ashamed,” she confessed. “I still am, but I finally realized with a little help from a friend, that you have the right to say what you feel, to see how I feel, to know that I not only messed up your life, I messed up mine as well.”
“Ruth.”
“Yes. So if you need to vent, I’m not promising I won’t react, but I can promise you I won’t run away.” She looked around the kitchen. “If there was ever a place where we could try and heal from my mistakes, it’s here.”
“I made mistakes, too,” he told her, then added, “I should tell you, I don’t know if I can forget.”
She trembled. “I think forgetting would be difficult for either of us. I’m hoping we can work past the anger. We’re actually talking. That’s a big step for both of us.”
He nodded and pulled on his gloves. “I guess we better get to work.”
She motioned toward the sledgehammer in his hand. “Why didn’t you rent a machine to get the tile up?”
His narrowed gaze swung from her to the floor. “I needed to vent.”
“Be careful and don’t pull a muscle.” She lowered her glasses. “I’ll get the ladder and start sanding the cabinets since you’re already finished in that area.”
“Maybe I should do that,” he said.
Stella paused. “Why? I’ve done it before.”
He hesitated. “That was a long time ago.”
Since he seemed more concerned with her safety than hurting her, she smiled. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re the same age, and when we worked on this house together, I never quit until you did.”
His eyes intense, Paul leaned on the sledgehammer. “That’s why I didn’t understand. You never walked away from anything you started. I never expected you to walk away from me and the children.”
Pain squeezed her heart. “I was a fool. I tried to trick you into wanting me and ended up losing you instead. I paid a heavy price for that lesson. I’m not walking away again—unless you ask me to.”
He straightened and picked up the sledgehammer. “Be careful with that ladder.”
* * *
Paul wouldn’t have believed it, but he and Stella worked well together. They didn’t talk much, but like last night when they walked back to the hotel, there was no tension. He’d slowed down removing the tile to keep an eye on her while she was on the ladder sanding the top cabinet.
After he moved on to other chores, he heard her humming a couple of times and remembered she liked to hum while doing chores. Her voice was as pitiful as his, but that hadn’t stopped them when they were young from dancing and singing to their heart’s content when they were dating, and then married.
Paul paused from unscrewing the bolt from beneath the sink in the hall bath. His heart hadn’t been content in a long time.
“Paul?”
He spun around to see Stella in the doorway. She was frowning.
He came to his feet. “What is it?”
She bit her lower lip, a sign she was nervous. “If-if you take out the sink and commode in the hall bath, the only one left is in the other room.”
His mouth tightened. The “other room” was their old bedroom. He didn’t plan on going in there until he absolutely had to. He’d forgotten because he’d wanted to keep busy so he wouldn’t keep thinking about her. Annoyed with himself, he knelt and began tightening up the bolt.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for lunch,” she said.
“I need to finish this first,” he told her.
“And then it will be something else.” She folded her arms. “You were always a hardworking man. I can’t imagine any McBride working harder.”
He didn’t want her words to mean anything to him, but they did. He’d wanted her and his children to be proud of him.
“Come on before I wrestle that wrench from you like last—” Her voice trailed off. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Paul knew exactly why she’d made the fast retreat. When they were married, she often became annoyed with him because he’d always say he’d be there in a minute but it could turn into an hour. One evening at dinnertime he’d been working on fixing a leaky faucet in their bathroom and she’d tried to wrestle the wrench away from him. They’d ended up making love on the floor. Eight and a half months later, Duncan, their oldest, was born. He’d always given her a red rose and chocolates on Mother’s Day afterward because he’d always remember the softness of her body, the sweetness of his mouth that night.
He blew out a breath. He wasn’t sure he could be a part of Faith’s Mother’s Day celebration. Too many memories haunted him in this house. They’d had some good times, but apparently not enough. He pushed to his feet and went to the kitchen. Stella sat on a little folding chair in front of a card table. She wasn’t eating. She didn’t say anything while he washed his hands beneath the faucet. The water landed in a bucket since the sinks were gone. The Corian countertop included the sinks and was one solid piece. He took a seat at the table.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
He blessed the food and picked up his roast beef sandwich. “No harm done. Eat. We don’t want to get behind schedule.”
She picked up her sandwich and took a small bite. “How do you think we’re doing?”
“Better than I thought,” he answered.
“Us or the remodeling?” she asked, her gaze on him.
“Both.” He picked up his bottle of tea and unscrewed the top. “It’s a good thing the people who bought the house never moved in, and Brandon snapped it up when it became available again.”
She placed her sandwich on the plate. “By the time Faith told me it was on the market it was sold.”
“That’s the way I wanted it.” He took a long swallow, ignoring the plastic cup filled with ice by his plate.
Stella unscrewed her bottle top and took a sip. “I would have bought it.”
“Why?” he asked, genuinely puzzled. “You had already turned your back on it and us.”
“I thought I had, but apparently I hadn’t.” She sat the bottle on the table and glanced around the torn-up kitchen. “I thought of all the things we’d shared here before and after the children were born, and I didn’t want anyone else in our home. Selfish, I know, but I felt that way.” She gave her attention to him. “I’m happy that Faith and Brandon will live here.”
“Hopefully, their marriage will last,” he said, unsure if he wanted to hurt her or not.
She flinched, but she didn’t look away. “I know it will. Faith fights for what she wants. If she and Brandon have a problem, they’ll talk through it. They’ll make it.”
So she hadn’t tucked her head and gotten that shattered look on her face. So maybe she was stronger than when she’d left. At the moment, he wasn’t willing to give her the chance to step on his heart again for her to prove it. “Once lunch is over, I’ll pull the carpet from the living room and you finish sanding the cabinets. Brandon hired a man to pick up daily, so we’ll always have a relatively clean work area.”
Stella picked up her sandwich. “That was thoughtful of him.”
“Yes it was, and Faith has sense enough to appreciate him.” This time Paul knew he’d taken a dig at Stella.
She didn’t back down. “Yes, she does. Could it be because every time they’re together, he shows her how much she means to him?”
They stared across the small table at each other. Stella had gotten her own dig in, and it burrowed deep. Paul picked up his sandwich. They ate in silence. He was sure they were both thinking about what had been and the frightening but tantalizing possibility of trying again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
By Friday, they had one room left that they hadn’t touched: the master bedroom. Stella pulled up in front of the house shortly before eight. Paul’s truck wasn’t there. She wasn’t surprised.
She didn’t thin
k either of them was ready to be inside the room where they’d shared so much love and, on the day their divorce was finalized, so much anger.
Her eyes closed to shut out the image of their last day, but she couldn’t. Although Faith knew her parents were having problems because Stella had moved out of the bedroom, she hadn’t known her mother had filed for divorce. Almost ready to graduate from college, working most of her free time at the hotel, and often staying there overnight, she hadn’t known her parents were living a lie.
Stella vividly recalled the morning she’d dressed and packed a small suitcase. Trevor had said to just bring herself. He’d buy her anything she needed. She’d declined his offer. To her, it sounded as if she was being bought. The day before she’d packed her other belongings and put them in storage until she could send for them. She hadn’t wanted Faith or Paul to have to deal with getting rid of her things.
Things. She’d been worried about things when she should have been worried about her family. However, by then she’d become so entangled in Trevor’s smooth-talking web, she believed every word.
One thing she hadn’t done was be intimate with him. With the way Duncan’s first wife had cheated on him, Cameron’s fiancée leaving him at the altar, not to mention wanting Faith and her sons to still respect her, she’d been able to say no to Trevor and mean it.
Now she could allow herself to admit that she’d never been as sexually attracted to Trevor as she was to Paul. Intimacy was all right with Trevor, but she’d never felt cherished or loved during or afterward. Even though she and Paul had drifted apart, when they made love she’d felt like it mattered to him. Sadly, those times became further and further apart.
She jumped at the knock on her window. “Paul!”
“I stopped to get a cup of coffee. Pop the trunk.” A paper coffee cup in his hand, he went to the trunk.
Stella did as he asked. He removed the cooler and went up the walk.
He hadn’t greeted her. She wasn’t going to jump to conclusions as to the reason why. Since their talk on Tuesday, there had been times he reverted to the old Paul and ignored her, but with each day he seemed to be more willing to try and be friends.
