It felt pretty strange, walking out of church with the sun setting, and his girls not with him. Wyatt reached into his pocket for his keys. He waved goodbye to Pastor Waters and headed for his truck.
Slowly, little by little, he was getting back to his life. Or at least the life he now had. That included faith. He could deal with life, with being alive.
Pastor Waters had helped him through the anger part of his grief. Wyatt had been working through the questions that had haunted him, kept him up at night.
Why had God allowed Wendy to take those pills? Why hadn’t God stopped her from getting them, or stopped her from taking them? Why hadn’t God sent someone to keep her from doing that to them? To herself?
Wyatt exhaled, but it didn’t hurt the way it once did. He stopped at his truck but didn’t get in. Instead he walked to the back of the truck and put the tailgate down. A few minutes alone wasn’t going to hurt him. The girls were good with Violet.
He sat on the tailgate.
God hadn’t stopped Wendy from breaking his heart. He closed his eyes and man, the anger still got to him. It was easier to be mad at God than to be mad at Wendy. She had made a choice. She had gone to a doctor who hadn’t known about her depression, got pills Wyatt hadn’t known about and had taken those pills.
After counseling. After prayer. After it seemed that she was doing better.
She’d made a choice to ignore the voice that probably tried to intervene, telling her to stop, to call someone, to give God a chance. God had been there the day she took those pills, probably pleading in His quiet way, trying to get her attention. And she’d made a choice.
Wyatt had to let go of blaming himself and God. He had to let go of blaming her. She’d been far sicker than any of them realized. She’d been hurting more than he knew.
A voice, real, clear, fresh, carried across the lawn of the church. He opened his eyes and listened to her sing. Rachel. He couldn’t see her but he saw her car on the other side of the church. He hadn’t realized she was still there.
He listened carefully to words that were far away. She was singing about falling down in the presence of God.
After a few minutes there was silence. The door of the church thudded closed. He watched as she walked down the sidewalk, away from him, not even realizing he was watching. He smiled a little because when no one was watching, she had a fast walk, almost a skip. She had changed from shorts and a T-shirt to a dress and cowboy boots.
A few minutes later he listened as she tried to start her car. The starter clicked but the engine didn’t turn over. So much for casual spying without getting caught. He hopped down from the back of the truck and headed her way.
She sat behind the wheel of the convertible, the top down. When she spotted him she looked surprised and a little smile tilted her mouth.
“Problem?” He leaned in close and her scent wrapped around him. Oriental perfume, peppermint gum and wild cherry lip gloss.
“No, not really.” She turned the key again.
“Really?”
She bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head. “The alternator has been making a funny noise. Dad said it was about to go.”
“Oh. That isn’t something I can fix.”
“Really?” Sarcasm laced her tone and he laughed.
“Really.” He opened her car door. “But I can give you a ride home.”
“Thank you.” She stepped out of the car. Up close the dress had tiny flowers and she was wearing a jean jacket over it. He was used to seeing her in jeans. She reached into the back of the car for her purse and the bag she carried each week. He knew it usually contained cookies and craft projects for the nursery. On Wednesdays she worked with teen girls. She was always busy.
He took the bag from her hands. “Let me carry that for you.”
She smiled and let him take it. “I didn’t expect you to still be here.”
“I had a meeting with your dad.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
He wondered if she knew, but he doubted she did. Pastor Waters wasn’t the type to talk, not even to his family, about church business or counseling sessions.
“Have you had dinner?” He opened the passenger-side truck door for her and she climbed in.
“No.”
“I would take you out, but the only thing open is the convenience store. How about a slice of pizza and a frozen slush?” He stood in the door of the truck, waiting for her answer.
She finally nodded. “Sounds good.”
No, it sounded like trouble. But he’d offered and now he had to follow through. He shut her door and then he whistled low and walked around to climb in on his side.
He started his truck and backed out of the parking space. A quick glance right and Rachel was staring out the window, her hands in her lap, fingers clasped. He smiled because he hadn’t expected her to be nervous.
The smile faded pretty quickly when he realized he felt a little like wringing his own hands. What was he, sixteen? Not even close. He was double that and then some. But when was the last time he’d been alone with a woman who wasn’t his wife? Other than his mother-in-law or Andie, when he drove her to the doctor once a couple of months back, it had been a long time.
At least he still knew the basics. Open the door for her. Buy her a nice dinner. Or the closest thing to a nice dinner. Walk her to the door when he took her home.
Kiss her good-night?
He shifted gears and cruised down the back road that led the few blocks to the convenience store. The evening was warm and humid. He rolled down the windows and wind whipped through the cab of the truck.
Rachel continued to stare out the window. She reached up to hold her hair in place as it blew around her face. They passed a few houses and people in their yards turned to wave. Well, at least everyone in town would know tomorrow that he’d been spotted with Rachel Waters.
Good or bad, it would get around.
“Want me to roll up the window?”
She shook her head and finally turned to look at him, smiling a little. She had a dimple in one cheek, and he noticed for the first time that her hair glinted with hints of auburn. He was a man, he wasn’t supposed to remember details.
“I love this time of year.”
He downshifted and turned into the parking lot of Circle A convenience store. “Yeah, me, too.”
* * *
The timbre of his voice was low and husky, reminding her of fingers in her hair. Rachel swallowed at a thought that felt a little dangerous to a woman who had always been pretty happily single.
The metal building that housed the Circle A was lit up inside and out. Cars were lined up at the gas pumps and several trucks were stopped at the edge of the paved lot; teenagers hanging out on a Sunday night.
“This town never changes.” Wyatt shook his head as he made the observation.
“Is that bad?”
“No, not really. I guess it’s good to find a place that isn’t moving too fast.” He pulled the key from the ignition. “Do you want to eat at one of the booths inside?”
Orange plastic seats and bright fluorescent lights. That would just draw attention to them. “I’d rather eat out here.”
“I guess we could be like the kids and sit on the tailgate.”
Why that appealed to her, she didn’t have a clue. But it did. She dug around in the handful of teenage memories she’d held on to and not one of them included sitting on the tailgate with a cowboy. Every woman should have that memory.
“Sounds like fun.”
He shot her a look and smiled. His eyes were dark and his skin was tanned from working in the sun. He pushed the white cowboy hat back a little, giving her a better view. Who needed the Seven Wonders of the World if they could sit in a truck with Wyatt Johnson?
“So, are you coming in?”
She nodded and reached for her door handle. This was getting ridiculous, getting lost in daydreams that should have faded when she was sixteen, wanting things she’d thought she’d never have, with a man who clearly wasn’t looking.
Butterfly, don’t fail me now. She smiled a little as she closed the truck door and met him on the sidewalk. They didn’t hold hands and he didn’t put a guiding hand on her back. This wasn’t a date, just two people having pizza.
Because her car hadn’t started. She reminded herself that he was just being kind. When they circled the building and walked up to the sliding glass doors on the front of the building, their reflection greeted her. A man in jeans and a cowboy hat, a woman in a dress and boots. They looked like a nice couple, she thought.
Reminder—not a couple, just a nice guy who offered to take her home. Handsome, sweet and just a friend.
The cool air of the convenience store and the aroma of convenience foods greeted them as they walked through the doors. A few kids stood around the soda fountain, talking, laughing and being kids. Wyatt’s hand touched her back and he guided her to the counter where food warmed beneath lights and pizza circled on a display wheel.
“Pepperoni or sausage?” Wyatt asked, too close to her ear. She shivered a little and shrugged. He smiled at the girl behind the counter. “Three slices of each.”
She started to object but kept her mouth closed. The girl in the red apron smock opened the plastic door and slid slices of pizza into a box.
“I can get our drinks,” Rachel offered. “Do you really want a slushy?”
He grinned, the way Kat grinned when she was up to something. And a slushy wasn’t exactly an act of rebellion. But on him, it appeared that way. His grin was a little lopsided and his dark eyes flashed.
“I want all three flavors.”
She grimaced. “For real?”
“For real.”
It sounded disgusting to Rachel, but if he really wanted to do that to himself, more power to him. She held his cup under each nozzle and grabbed a bottle of water for herself. When she returned he was at the register. He eyed her water but didn’t comment.
Not until they were back outside sitting on the tailgate of his truck.
“Water, seriously?”
“I like water.” She took a slice of pizza from the box.
And then there was silence as they ate and watched teenagers horsing around. One girl tried too hard. Rachel sighed because she remembered trying too hard. She remembered chasing the boys, grabbing them, laughing too loud.
“Another slice?” He held out the box but she shook her head.
“Two is enough for me.”
He set the box down next to him and nodded at the teenagers. “That really takes me back.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Rachel leaned against the side of the truck bed. “But I bet we have different memories. You were that boy, the one with the swagger and the grin.”
A boy in jeans, a T-shirt and boots, with the big truck and the bigger smile.
He grinned and tipped his hat back. “Yeah, I guess I was.”
“I was that girl.” She pointed to the girl who was grabbing the boys and staggering just a little. Rachel wanted to rescue her, to pull her out of the crowd and tell her to love herself.
Closing her eyes, it was too easy to be that girl, to feel so insecure, to want so much to be loved and not getting that it really did have to start with accepting herself. She really hadn’t gotten it, that she couldn’t force people to love her.
“You okay?” The words were soft and a hand touched hers.
Rachel opened her eyes and smiled. “Just remembering.”
“What’s wrong with that girl?” Wyatt didn’t look at the girl. He watched her instead. She shrugged and avoided what she knew would be a questioning look, but she felt his gaze on her, felt his intensity. “She looks like she’s having fun.”
“She isn’t having fun. She’s trying to find someone who will love her.”
He didn’t respond. She turned to look at him, smiling because she hadn’t meant to delve that deeply into the past.
“That was you?”
“That was me.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“I’ve gone through some changes since then.” Another reason for the butterfly, a reminder that life has a way of changing things. Every season brings something new.
She hopped down from the back of the truck. “We should go.”
He nodded, agreeing. Instead of commenting, he grabbed their trash and carried it to the barrel at the corner of the store. Rachel opened her door to get into the truck, but she shot one last look back at the kids. They had a beach ball, bouncing it in the air from person to person. Another truck pulled in. More kids got out. The young girl she had watched raced around the crowd, frantically trying to be a part of something.
A deep ache attached itself to Rachel’s heart, remembering that person she’d left behind. But when Wyatt got behind the wheel, she questioned if she really had, or was that insecure girl still hiding inside her, wanting the love that Rachel insisted she really didn’t need.
* * *
The lights of the parsonage glowed a soft yellow from behind gauzy curtains. A motion light in the backyard came on as Wyatt pulled the truck to a stop. He shifted into neutral and set the emergency brake. Rachel was already reaching for the door handle.
He should let it end that way, with her getting out, him letting her walk up to the door. But a butterfly tattoo and the hurt look that had flicked across her features as they’d sat eating their pizza kept him from listening to common sense.
Later he would regret this moment, he knew he would. He would regret not listening to the part of him that wanted to remain detached. Instead he got out of the truck and met her as her feet hit the ground.
“I can help you get your car to the garage tomorrow.”
“Dad can take care of it.” Her eyes were huge in the dusky night.
Another moment that he’d have to think about later: looking a little too long into those eyes. But looking into her eyes didn’t begin to compare to the need to hold her. His hands were shoved into his pockets and he fought the part of himself that didn’t want to get back in that truck and drive away.
She sighed and her lips parted, not an invitation, he didn’t think. No, she was probably going to say something. She probably should tell him to back off or hit the road. Either of the two would work.
A thinking man would have given her a chance to say one of those two things. An idiot cowboy like him didn’t always think things through. Sometimes guys like him just had no sense at all and they acted.
That’s what he did, he acted, freeing his hands from his pockets and tangling them into masses of brown curls that smelled like wild flowers. He breathed deep as he leaned toward her. He hovered for a second, giving her one last chance to send him packing. When she didn’t, he touched his lips to hers.
For a long second she didn’t react, but then she moved and her hands touched his arms. He drank her in, steadying himself with one hand on the truck door behind her. Man, she was sweet. The kiss was sweet. Her hands moved to his back, holding him close. That was sweet.
He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers because he couldn’t really breathe. Or think.
And then reality came rushing back in, hitting him full force with a load of guilt and remorse. Those shouldn’t be the emotions a man felt after a kiss. She deserved more than a guy tied to the past.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered close to her ear, wanting to pull her back into his arms. Instead of giving in, this time he stepped back.
“Yeah, I knew you would be.” Pain flickered across her features, hard to miss, even in the dark.
“What do you mean?” He jerked off his hat and swiped a pretty shaky hand through his hair.
Her expressions changed to compassion. She reached for his hand. “I just kissed a married man.”
He pulled his hand loose from hers, too aware of the wedding ring he’d never taken off, and aware of the message it sent. He shoved his hat back on his head and took a few smart steps back.
It hurt to breathe and hurt worse to think about her words. She hadn’t moved away from his truck until that moment and as she stepped past him, she paused to touch his cheek, her smile was soft and sweet.
“I know you loved her. You really don’t have to explain or apologize.”
“Yeah, I do.” He said the words too late. She was halfway to the house and he was standing there like a fool. Her dog ran out of the house, past her to him. The big shepherd circled him a few times, growling. Her whistle called the animal off.
The drive home didn’t take near long enough. He had two minutes to get it together. He felt like he needed two hours. Or two days. A man didn’t kiss a woman like that and just walk off.
Rachel was the kind of woman looking for forever, not stolen moments at the end of the night. And Wyatt didn’t know if he’d ever want to do forever again. But he did have to think about the future and about the ring still on his finger.
As he parked, lights flashed off in the upstairs room that belonged to his girls. He sat in his truck and watched as other lights came on. Violet waiting for him to come home.
He needed to get his act together. He leaned back in the seat and stared at the barn, at the glimmer of moon peeking through the clouds. At stars glittering in the clear patches of sky.
For eighteen months he’d been asking himself the question he had wanted to ask Wendy. Why had she left them? He let out a tight sigh that came from so deep inside him that it ached. Had she stopped loving them? Had she been unable to love them? He rubbed a hand across his face, clearing his vision.
It was wrong to blame her. He’d even come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t blame himself. Now he had to come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t coming back. Guilt, accusations, anger—none of that would bring her back.
He put his hands on the steering wheel and the gold band on his left hand glinted. He raised his hand and shook his head. Maybe it was time to let her go, to move on with his life.
Or maybe it wasn’t. He’d deal with one thing at a time.
It took a minute to get the ring off, twisting and sliding it over his knuckles. His finger felt bare. His heart felt even worse. He slipped the ring into his pocket and opened the door of the truck.
Violet walked out the back door. He walked across the yard, his vision blurred. He took in a deep breath and let it go.
When he walked up the steps of the porch, Violet gave him space. She followed him inside and instead of asking questions she started a pot of coffee. Good thinking, because it looked like it might be a long night.
When she turned, her eyes were misty and her smile trembled on her lips. “Are you okay?”
“I am. Thank you for staying with the girls while I helped Rachel out.”
“Where else would I be? Wyatt, you didn’t stop being my family when...” She bit down on her bottom lip and blinked a few times. “You’re my kid. Those are my sweet granddaughters up there. You’re all I have left of Wendy, and I don’t ever want that to end. No matter what happens in the future, I hope to always be your mom.”
He hugged her and she eventually pulled away and reached for a tissue, pulling it from the box on the counter. She wiped her eyes and smiled.
“Violet, I thank God every single day for you and you’ll always be in our lives.”
“That’s good to know because I can really be a pain sometimes and I need people who will put up with me.”
He laughed, and pulled two cups from the cabinet over the coffeepot. Violet sighed a little and he turned.
“You took off your ring.”
He looked at his left hand and nodded. “Yeah, I did.”
Because of Rachel Waters. He didn’t have to explain that to Violet. He guessed she probably knew. She probably understood better than anyone else in his life. Maybe even better than he understood it himself.