by Dora Hiers
Far away from Mason.
Her brother might be proud of her, but she wasn’t. And she was pretty sure Mason wouldn’t be, either.
She closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat, weary from the constant battle between fear and longing, the need to be whole and healed.
She wanted to believe in love. Desperately wanted to believe. But a happily-ever-after ending just wasn’t a reality for her and Mason.
****
The crowd had finally dissipated and most of the teams had pulled out. Mason hustled to the trailer, his racing shoes pounding the grass in the quiet night.
In the darkness, Mason made out the white piece of paper attached to the door. He clenched his fists, his heart plummeting to his toes. He snatched it from the door and scrambled inside to read it.
Mason, I’m so happy for you! You won! I had so much fun watching you race. Thank you for inviting me.
You probably suspect by now that I wasn’t feeling well, so I caught an early flight back home. I’m sorry that I couldn’t hang out with you after the race, but just seeing all the cameras and reporters swarming around you made me realize just how impossible a relationship between us would be. I can’t tell you how sad that makes me.
Hoping and praying all the best for you, Mason. You deserve it.
All my love, Remi
He crumbled the flimsy paper in his hand, a giant glob of emotion crawling down his throat and settling in his gut.
What could he do?
He could guard her privacy, could shield her from reporters and their nosey questions, but he couldn’t protect her from her own fear. That, she had to fight for herself.
And, for them.
Would she consider him worth fighting for?
15
“So other than when you saw the crowd of reporters huddled around Mason after he won, you had a good time?” Jillian hiked a boot against the rustic wood of the barn’s exterior.
Remi tossed the hay, scattering some extra clumps for Reesie and Snickers. “Yeah.” She’d had a great time. As much as it hurt to admit.
“Would you go again?”
“He’ll never ask.” With a heavy sigh, she turned the spigot on and draped the hose over the trough. No. He’d never ask.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I left him a note.”
“Oh.” Jillian’s blonde eyebrows furrowed in the middle.
Remi quickly averted her gaze back to the hose, turned off the faucet and draped the hose around the hook.
“And?” Jillian’s tone was quiet.
Or maybe she was just too tired. She straightened, her muscles screaming and her eyelids heavy. When Camdon had finally dropped her off at one o’clock this morning, she hadn’t bothered to go to bed, knowing she’d never be able to sleep. “I told him I didn’t see how a relationship between us could ever work.”
The day’s light didn’t make that decision any wiser or better. But there it was.
She stomped inside the barn, plucked a couple pitchforks from the hooks, and handed them to Jillian. Then she tossed a bucket into the wheelbarrow and steered the unwieldy thing toward the first stall.
Jillian’s boots clomped behind her. “You know he’ll be back.”
Remi unlatched the door to the empty stall and shoved the wheelbarrow in. It clunked on the ground. “No, he won’t.”
Would he? She wasn’t so sure. Her brain had been so addled last night, her emotions so tangled, that she couldn’t even remember what she wrote in the note. The urgency to leave still made her tummy ache and her shoulders tense.
Mason deserved someone who could share in his success, someone who didn’t mind being in front of the camera. She wasn’t that person, as much as she wanted to be with him.
They set to work mucking out the stall and fluffing it with fresh bedding then moved on to the next one. Usually this chore brought her peace, satisfaction. Today, not so much. Discouragement as heavy as bricks weighted her shoulders. Even the grant award she’d found in her email inbox earlier hadn’t soothed her heart or cleared the tension.
“I can’t do it, Jillian.” She didn’t blink. If she did, the tears would surely fall. She’d cried enough tears in her lifetime. She speared the waste and flicked it in the bucket, caught tears swelling in Jillian’s brown eyes as she leaned against the pitchfork.
“You can, Remi. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Remember graduation?”
She stopped digging and straightened. A sigh lifted her chest. “Yeah.”
“You were determined to make your mom proud. To show her honor and respect after all the years of people saying those hurtful things. It took months of practice, but you did it.”
Remi nodded. Her best friend had gone with her to the auditorium every day after school for months to watch her practice walking the stage.
“Think of this relationship with Mason in the same way, Remi. It’ll take practice, and it won’t be easy, but you can do it. If Mason is worth the effort.” Jillian tilted her head to study Remi. “Is he? Worth the effort?”
Just thinking about the man made her pulse rocket. Her heart ached with longing. She missed him already.
It didn’t take long for her to decide. She nodded. “Yes. Definitely.”
Determination firmed Jillian’s jaw, and her normally full lips flattened. “Then we need to get busy.”
****
“So what do you see in Mason Mulrennan’s future?” Nan Greenway, the reporter for Athletes in the News magazine, leaned forward in her chair, her pen poised above the paper, even though she was also taping their conversation. A slim leg crossed a knee, and her four-inch spike of a heel jiggled.
The leather of Mason’s office chair creaked as he fidgeted. He scrubbed a hand across his whiskered jaws, weary to the bone. He’d gotten home at two this morning, but he hadn’t slept.
He probably should have cancelled this interview, but at least it wasn’t televised. The world wouldn’t see his droopy shoulders or the frustrated look he flashed the reporter.
He chuckled, but it was more from a desire to bring this interview to a close than mirth. “Another car for the team. Hopefully, a championship.”
Judging by Nan’s frown, that wasn’t the answer she was looking for. Well, too bad. This interview was over. He stood and rose to his full height, towering over the lady still sitting in the chair as if she had nowhere to go, nowhere else she’d rather be.
Well, that wasn’t his case.
He held out a hand, forcing the reporter to get up. “Thanks for the interview, Nan. I’ll look forward to reading the feature next month.”
“I’m not quite done with my questions—”
“I’m sorry.” He glanced pointedly at the clock in his office. “I have another appointment.”
And he did. With the Lord. He needed time to shut the door to all the interruptions, time to get up close and personal with his Father. A few moments to allow raindrops from heaven to pour down and soothe his battered heart.
He walked over to the open door and swung it wide, waiting for Nan to take the hint. With a huff, she leaned over to pick up her oversized bag, displaying a huge gap in the front of her silk blouse.
He averted his gaze with a sigh. Why did women do that? Did they think he would be even remotely interested? Or that he’d give them more of a newsworthy scoop? Thanks to his mom’s advice, he’d always maintained an “open door” policy when it came to women in his office.
Nan took her time collecting her belongings then wobbled over to him in those high heels, stopping directly in front of him, her strong perfume reeking of some floral scent that would have been best left in the ground. So strong, his eyes watered.
She looked up at him, a coy expression on her face. “How’s it going with the golfer’s daughter?”
If she thought that would rile him enough to give her an answer, she was mistaken. Even so, his jaw clenched at her rudeness.
“Have a go
od day, Nan.” With a firm hand against her back, he guided her out the door. Once she passed, he closed it and pressed his back against the cool metal.
Was this type of rudeness what Remi and her family had endured all these years? How could he possibly understand how to deal with the hurt and pain that she carried around on those tiny shoulders? And how could he, a racecar driver whose livelihood depended on media popularity, keep her and their relationship out of the public eye? Questions like this were bound to surface repeatedly.
Was it fair to expect her to change, to overcome her adversity to the media? His heart sank. Not if Nan was any indication. He certainly wouldn’t throw Remi to the wolves.
God, how can this be? I finally meet a woman who doesn’t care about my money, but she can’t handle my career. Did You allow me the joy of getting to know Remi, of loving Remi, only to leave us like this?
He didn’t think so, but a little time on his knees wouldn’t hurt.
16
Remi tugged a piece of candy from her pocket and took her time unwrapping it. She plunked it in her mouth and rested her forearms on the pasture rail.
Mason hadn’t come today.
So that was it. He’d finally admitted to himself that there couldn’t be a “them.”
She sucked on the chocolate until she tasted the creamy peanut butter, watching the llamas grazing about the field. A cool breeze lifted strands of her hair, wrapping it around her eyes. She brushed it away. Her fingers came away moist.
She’d missed him today. Missed the roar of his truck as he pulled in the driveway. Missed seeing his broad shoulders as he slipped in and out of the pastures to feed the llamas and the horses. Missed lingering over lunch with him, talking, and catching a whiff of his distinctly masculine mixture of woods and fresh outdoors.
And yeah, she missed his kisses. The feel of his strong hands wrapping around her waist and his lips connecting with hers. Missed hearing him whisper that all things were possible. That “they” were possible.
Was a relationship with Mason a dead end? Did it have to be? Would she be better off without him in her life?
No. She bounced out of bed on the mornings that she knew he was coming. He made the days so much sweeter, so much brighter with his presence.
She couldn’t bear the thought that he wouldn’t be dropping by anymore.
Her stepfather was right. Saying yes to Mason was so much sweeter than saying no.
God, I’m so sick of being afraid to live my life. I love Mason. I don’t want this to be the end but rather the beginning. Help me to overcome this fear that’s literally strangling me. Help me be the woman You created me to be.
She lifted her face to the sky, draped with streaks of pink and purple, and allowed the gentle breeze to cool her skin and for God’s whisper to sink deep into her spirit.
You can do it.
How?
With My strength.
She closed her eyes and bowed her head. In the quiet part of her soul, she knew what she had to do.
****
Mason signed the paper with more of a flourish than usual, and then flicked the pen out of his hand. It landed on the wood desktop with a ping. Leaning back in the chair, he sighed and rammed a hand through his hair.
“Tough day, boss?” Charlie lounged in the doorway with his shoulder propped against the frame. How long had he been standing there?
Frustration and indecision churned in his gut. “Not so much tough as long.”
“Maybe you’re not where you should be.”
He scowled at his crew chief.
Charlie only shrugged and ignored his glare. “You haven’t been in the office on a Tuesday or Wednesday for weeks now.”
He huffed. “Don’t remind me. My inbox is overflowing.”
“So maybe your head says you should be here, but your heart’s telling you otherwise.”
Mason picked up the pen and fiddled with it, tossing it in the air and catching it, letting Charlie’s comment slide.
“So what are you doing here today? Why aren’t you at the sanctuary?”
“Giving Remi some time.”
Charlie scoffed. “Some time? For what? To forget about you? To rethink getting involved with this whole—” Charlie swept an arm around the office “—racing business?”
Mason shook his head, sorrow filling the hollow chasm in his heart. He scrubbed a hand across his whiskered cheeks. “I can’t do this to her.”
Charlie closed the door and shuffled into the office, sinking deep into the chair in front of Mason’s desk. “Does this have something to do with her father?”
Mason pinched the bridge of his nose. Nodded.
“I thought it might.”
“She has a tough time dealing with reporters. After my interview with Nan Greenway yesterday, I can see why.”
“Didn’t go well?”
“Nah. That’s not it. Nan’s just doing her job. But that’s just it. Reporters tend to get a little nosey. The less scrupulous ones dig and poke around until they get the dirt they’re looking for. If they hurt someone in the process, that’s just a casualty of the job. A cost of doing business.”
“You don’t want Remi to get hurt.”
“That’s the last thing I want. But a relationship with me is bound to bring the reporters crawling out of the woodwork.”
“Want my advice?”
Mason swallowed, hesitated. “She made it clear—”
“Well, you’re getting it anyway. Remi’s a special lady to have survived what she did and not be bitter or resentful. I remember when her daddy died. The media tormented her momma, blamed her for his death, and the whole family took the heat. Remi’s made of tough stuff. More than you give her credit.”
“That’s not true. I give her lots—”
“I’m not finished. If God means for you to be together, He’ll work it out.”
Charlie had a point there.
“But that’s not going to happen with you sitting here in this office.”
Ouch. That’s exactly what he’d been telling himself every day this week.
“She came to the race, didn’t she?”
Mason nodded.
Charlie’s head bobbed as he continued his tirade. “The little lady stayed to the very end. That says a lot right there. She cares about you enough to face those demons.”
A smile tugged at Mason’s lips. The first all week.
“She might’ve gotten a little queasy thinking about the crowd there at the end, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t give it her best shot.”
Remorse slammed through Mason. Yeah. She did. She had lasted all day Saturday and then until the race was over on Sunday. He’d introduced her to his friends, left her alone with them, and she hadn’t complained once about being out of her comfort zone. She was a real trooper.
“So why aren’t you there giving her your best shot?” Charlie glared at him.
“What do you mean?” It was a good thing his crew chief had worked for him a long time, and Mason trusted his opinion and respected his advice. Otherwise, he might have kicked the man out of his office.
“With her background, my guess is it took a lot for her to be there for you. I’m sure she feels bad about leaving, probably even hurting in here.” Charlie thumped his chest. “But that just means she could use your support and encouragement more than ever right now. More than she’s ever gotten from anyone before.” Charlie’s jaw tightened, and he growled. “But that means you have to be there for her. Not this ‘give her some time’ business.”
Mason rubbed the back of his neck. Was Charlie right? Was he hurting Remi more by not being there for her?
17
“I trust you, lord.” Remi whispered at her reflection in the mirror. She swiped the brush against her cheeks until a rosy blush appeared.
“I will not be afraid.” She dabbed some lipstick on her lips. When was the last time she’d worn makeup?
“What can man possibly do to hurt me anymore?” She
paraphrased the verse she’d memorized over the last couple of days. Thank You, God, for those sweet words of encouragement. I needed them.
She shoved the makeup bag back in the drawer and, taking a deep breath, opened the bathroom door.
Four heads turned in her direction, all with anxious faces.
“I’m fine,” she reassured. And she was.
A sigh welled up from her chest. She’d be a whole lot better if Mason was here, but she’d burned that bridge. He hadn’t shown up at the ranch all week, and she couldn’t blame him. Not after the note she’d left him.
But, she had to do this for herself. To face and slay the dragon of fear. The demon that paralyzed her, the one that kept her from living a normal life and prevented her from a lasting relationship with a man who had proven he could be counted on.
Camdon appeared next to her. His dark eyebrows hiked, and tiny furrows buried into his forehead. “Everything’s set up outside. Are you ready?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m all set. Let’s go.”
Her fingers gripped the doorknob, but she hesitated as emotion crawled down her throat. She turned around to face her mom and stepfather, Camdon, and Jillian. “Thanks you, guys, for coming. I love you.”
They took turns hugging her, bolstering her with their encouraging words. Finally, she pressed her shoulders back, sucked in a deep breath, and opened the door.
Lights flashed. Voices mumbled, speaking into microphones. Television cameras pointed in her direction.
She froze. Gulped. I trust You, God. Render them powerless to hurt me with their words anymore.
Her mother and Ryan stepped to one side, Jillian and Camdon appeared at her other side, their arms circled around her back. She could do this. God was with her, protecting and uplifting her with her family and friends.
She stepped to the microphone that Camdon had placed at the top of the stairs. With weak and unsteady legs, she glanced out at the crowd. Except for Nan Greenway’s smirk, the rest of the reporters appeared friendly and interested.
Remi cleared her throat.
****
Mason mashed his foot harder against the truck’s gas pedal, an urgency to get to Remi eating a hole in his heart.
