Seated across from Van at a table in Broadcasting House, Cora struggled to keep her mind on the notes she’d made for their article. She’d read the same sentence three times, and her brain refused to process the words. She stole a glance at him from under her bangs. He seemed intent on his work and oblivious to her agitation. Maybe he was a better actor than her.
Or maybe he was still upset with her emotional outburst this afternoon. He had every right to be irritated, even angry at her. Why couldn’t she keep a rein on her temper? She’d let her past hurts surface, and they continued to churn and infiltrate her thoughts and behaviors. Why couldn’t she let them go?
Instead, every time she saw Myrtle, insecurities and doubt surged, making her lash out and say stupid things. Van must be ready to sever their partnership, and she didn’t blame him.
She wiped her damp palms on her skirt then patted her hair. “Van?” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “Van, sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to say something.”
He laid down his pencil and looked up, eyes shuttered and guarded. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry for overreacting earlier. I can go into a long-winded explanation, but that would sound like excuses and justification for my behavior. I was terribly rude, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me at some point.” She shrugged, and her face heated. “I’m dragging around a lot of uncertainty, and it gushes out at the worst possible moments, spilling on everyone around me. Anyway, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”
Van blew out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair, then leaned his elbows on the table. “Apology accepted, although I must admit your vehemence took me by surprise.” He cradled her hand in his.
A jolt of electricity shot through her palm. Did he feel that, too? The imperceptible widening of his eyes seemed to say he did. She could not allow her attraction to get in the way of her job. Too many women gave up opportunities to stay home and have babies. She wouldn’t be one of them.
His thumb drew circles on the back of her hand. His lips were moving, but she could hardly focus on what he was saying. She blinked and forced herself to listen.
“As you indicated, your life isn’t any of my business, but your reaction tells me there’s more to this story than meets the eye. Yes, Miss O’Malley is annoying and trying to scoop you. Every other reporter out there is doing the same thing. And she hurt you, too, but you admitted her stealing whatshisname…”
“Louis.”
“Louis…wasn’t as bad as you initially felt because of meeting your husband. If you need to talk about what’s really bothering you, I’m a good listener.” He smirked. “Well, not always, but I promise to be this time.” He leaned forward and tipped up her chin so she could meet his eyes. “You’re a good writer. Your stories inform, yet at the same time, touch an emotional chord with readers, making them invest themselves in the topic, or more importantly, the people you’re writing about. And you may not want to hear it, but you’re a beautiful woman, on the inside and the outside. Your faith…well, I wish mine was as strong.”
She gaped at him, her eyes wide. He thought she had a strong faith. Little did he know about the tenuous hold she had trusting God to work out His plan in her life. She was a mess, a bundle of anxiety and indecision, second-guessing every choice she’d ever made.
A giggle bubbled up inside then spilled over, becoming a chuckle, then finally a fully formed laugh. Ridiculous. His comment was absolutely ridiculous. A child had more faith than her. Her amusement turned to sadness and regret, the emotions fighting for supremacy. Her stomach clenched, and breakfast threatened to appear. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked them away. But the moisture welled up and soon overflowed down her cheeks.
Van’s expression told her everything she needed to know. He was disappointed, disgusted, and disdainful. One more person judging her, and if she looked around the room, she’d probably see the rest of the men with the same opinion.
Swiping at her face, Cora shoved back the chair and stood. “I’m sorry. I should go.” She snatched her pocketbook and papers from the table.
He leapt up, his chair screeching against the wooden floor. He grabbed her arm. “Wait. Please wait.”
She studied him through her swimming vision. Why did he want her to stay? He had to be embarrassed about the scene she was making.
With a fluid motion, he released her, donned his jacket, then collected his pages, before taking her items and adding them to the stack. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her out the door. “I think some sunshine is in order, don’t you?”
Lips trembling, she nodded. By now he must think her a complete ninny, but he was being so nice, she couldn’t bring herself to run from his care.
They made their way to a bench. He lowered her onto the seat, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “Guess I should have done that first.” He squatted in front of her, concern darkening his eyes.
She mopped the wetness from her face and attempted a smile that probably ended up as a grimace. Her chest tight, she took a deep breath. She must look a fright. “Thank you. I’m not sure what came over me.” Her voice was scratchy and broken.
“Hmmm. Worry, homesickness, stress.” He cocked his head and grinned. “Need I go on?”
“Why are you being such a gentleman? I’ve been nothing but beastly.”
“Like I said, there seems to be more happening than you're letting on.” He cupped his ears. “I’m ready to listen, when you’re ready to talk.”
Exhaling, she patted the bench. “I’d rather you weren’t staring at me the entire time.”
“Fair enough.” He rose and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear before dropping beside her.
She quivered at his touch. Clutching the soggy hanky, she sat, eyes downcast. “I’ve already told you that my marriage feels distant and surreal because of the lack of time we had together, but the truth is I’m not sure our relationship would have deepened even if he came home.”
Her face heated, and she continued to avoid his eyes. “Sure, we exchanged letters, but Brian couldn’t tell me what he was doing, and I never seemed to have much to say in return. Our correspondence became a study in weather and inanities. I can barely remember the sound of his voice. For some reason, seeing Myrtle resurrects my guilt, and well…you see how I react.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m a shallow, terrible person, and my faith is hanging on by a thread.”
He stroked her back, and shivers galloped up her spine.
“Sounds like you have an honest faith. God can handle your doubts. In fact, I think He welcomes them because you’re being real. Too many times, we withhold how we really feel, thinking that it’s a sin to question Him or tell him we’re upset, even angry.”
With an audible sigh, Van rubbed his forehead. “Now, I can’t tell you what to think about your marriage, and all the woulda-coulda-shoulda thoughts that assail you, but I know if you hand them off to God, He’ll wrap His arms around you and soften the pain, maybe even make you feel some sense of joy about the time you had with your husband. Mind you, the change won’t happen overnight and will take a lot of prayer, but He will heal you.”
“When did you get to be so wise?” She looked at him through tear-filled eyes.
A sheepish grin quirked his lips. “I won’t bore you with the details, but doubt and I are old friends.”
The constriction in her muscles eased. Why had she thought him so awful? He’d dropped everything to comfort and console her, acting the part of a true friend. She shouldn’t get too used to his kindness. They’d be going their separate ways after their assignment was complete. Two more articles, and they’d be done. Too soon.