Thursday, July 28, 2011
“GOOD morning, sleepyhead. Time to get up.”
Holly flinched and opened her eyes. Dax squatted beside the bed, a gentle hand on her shoulder. His hand fell away when she sat up and dropped her feet to the floor. She rubbed both hands over her eyes then lowered them to her lap, staring at them. His warm hands enveloped them with the care one gave thin glass, making tears prick the backs of her eyes. She looked up, taking in wet hair slicked close to his head, suppressing errant curls.
“I hate to wake you,” he said with an apologetic smile, “but if you want to get there by tonight, we better hit the road soon. I’ll top off the gas tank and get us checked out of the hotel while you shower and dress.”
She nodded.
After Dax left, Holly forced herself to the bathroom. She tied her hair up to keep it dry then took a quick shower, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and brushed her teeth and hair. As she studied her reflection while taming her hair, her gaze fell to the drab, dingy gray color of the shirt she’d worn on the rare occasion she’d gone to the gym. She hadn’t even realized she’d grabbed it while packing, but the color suited her mood.
She shook off the dismal thought, braided her hair to control its flyaway tendencies then put dirty clothes in a plastic bag and shoved it into the suitcase along with her brush and toothbrush. She zipped it closed and plopped on the foot of the bed to wait for Dax.
Staring at the lifeless television screen, she searched for a positive memory of her mother. There had to be some in there somewhere, but the only thing that came to mind was the last time they’d spoken about a month after Holly’s arrival in Phoenix. A conversation cut short and never picked up again.
~~~
Minutes after Dax’s return, they sat in a restaurant not far from the hotel, luggage loaded in the car. Dax perused the menu, keeping an eye on Holly over the top of it while pretending not to. Their booth provided a sweeping view of the parking lot and distant mountains.
Holly stared out the large window without seeming to really see any of it.
“So, what would you like?”
No response.
Maybe she hadn’t heard him. He opened his mouth to ask again.
She glanced at him, shook her head, and went back to studying nothing out the window.
He frowned, the previous night’s concern re-emerging and gaining strength. He placed an order and sent the puzzled waitress on her way. The silence was stifling, but how could he break it? What could he say?
Food arrived a short while later, diverting his attention. It wouldn’t hurt to give Mom’s suggestion a try. What did he have to lose?
“Um, hey, listen, I don’t think I can eat all this.” It wasn’t actually a lie. He stared at the heavily loaded plate. Man, this place doesn’t kid around with their servings. “My mother taught me never to waste food, so would you help?”
Holly turned to him. Skepticism filled her eyes. Apparently, she’d seen right through the ruse, as he’d fully expected. He’d have to tell his dad that one hadn’t slipped her notice. So what else could he try? He bit back a grimace.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. Wasn’t that how the old saying went?
Okay, God, if You really care about the small things in our lives, help me out here. I know You have no use for me, but I’m not asking for myself. Do it for her sake.
Tell the truth, came an unexpected nudge.
He stared at the plate. That was no thought of his. In fact, he had no idea what it meant, so it couldn’t be his. What truth?
Your worry.
Oh. That truth. He shifted, hackles rising. What difference will it make? Holly thinks I hate her. Not true, of course, but that’s what she believes, and she’s made it abundantly clear what she thinks of me. He still felt the sting of her “temperamental jerk” accusation.
Unbidden, concern Holly had expressed New Year's Eve popped to mind. She’d known how the death of that little boy had sucker-punched him, and she’d tried to reach out. Then her worry after the shooting. She’d come to the office and waited who knew how long while he handled formalities to make sure he was okay. Then her adamancy that he not go into the mountains alone, to the point she’d gone along to ensure his safety.
Okay, okay, I get it. She worries about me.
Did he dare let her know she was so far under his guard that he worried about her? He raised his gaze to study her solemn profile and shook his head. What other choice did he have? None. No other options presented themselves.
Alright, but this better work!
“Please eat, Holly.” His pleading tone drew her eyes. His hackles prickled at what felt suspiciously like begging, but it was too late to turn back. “I’m worried about you. If you don’t eat, I’m just going to worry even more. So, if for no other reason, eat for my sake.”
For a moment, she stared at him, speculation in dull eyes.
Dax expected her to turn away and ignore his request.
Instead, Holly picked up a fork and reached for a bite of eggs.
Barely preventing a sigh of relief from escaping, he wasn’t sure he hid his surprise half as well, but she wasn’t looking at him anymore.
It worked!
Could prayer really work? He forced the question away for later.
To make it easier to share the plate, he switched sides of the table, sliding in beside her.
Partway through breakfast, he caught her gaze. “Do you think prayer actually works?” He bit his tongue. So much for putting that aside for later.
She didn’t respond.
Three possibilities occurred to him. Holly hadn’t heard his question, which wasn’t good since she’d looked right at him. She’d chosen to ignore it, which certainly worked for him. Or she’d recognized he hadn’t meant to ask and chosen to let it slide. Not an option he liked since the idea of her reading him that clearly didn’t sit well.
By the time the plate was nearly empty, Dax was satisfied with the amount she’d eaten.
~~~
Did she believe that prayer worked? Holly stared out the car window and pondered Dax’s question, as she had since he’d asked it over breakfast. Annoyance had flashed across his face, making it clear he hadn’t meant to ask, so she should probably let it go. Anyway, how could she answer such a question?
There had been many times in her life that prayers had gone unanswered. No, maybe that was the wrong way to put it. Like her prayers for her father to die first, those prayers hadn’t been without response from God. Instead, His answer had been a resounding “No.”
So, perhaps the best way to answer Dax’s question would be “Yes, but with a caveat.” She frowned. Lame. Totally lame. She couldn’t give him that stupid of a response. It sounded like a cop-out.
~~~
They had been on the road for several miles, Holly staring straight ahead. Dax forced his attention to driving instead of watching her sit like a statue next to him.
“God always answers prayer,” she said, startling him. Though little more than a whisper, the deafening silence suddenly broken amplified the sound. The words, though lackluster, were confident.
“You sound pretty sure of that.” He kept his tone neutral and his eyes forward. She had no way of knowing how discussion of God and the Bible rankled, so he had to tread carefully or risk her shutting down again. He might not get another opportunity if he blew it. Besides, he’d started it with that careless question at breakfast. He should’ve kept his mouth shut.
“I’m absolutely certain of it,” she said without hesitation.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dax saw her look at him. He willed his gaze to remain on the road.
“Why aren’t you?”
“I learned a long time ago that prayers go unanswered.” His grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Previous experience warned where it would lead. Dax waited for the question he knew was coming.
“Unanswered, or not the answer you wanted?”
Surprised by a question he had not expected, he shot her a glance, pleased to see life in Holly’s eyes, along with a knowing look, for the first time since her sister’s call the day before. Not much, granted, but an improvement. So, what was the answer to her question? She didn’t wait for one.
“God always responds, just not always the way we want.” Her gaze shifted forward again.
Dax thought that was the end of the discussion as minutes and miles passed without another word. He hated to admit she might be right, but….
“Remember my brush with the law?”
He shot her a startled look then faced forward again to keep his eyes on the road. “Well, yeah.” What did that have to do with the discussion?
“I didn’t get the answer I wanted then.”
“You didn’t end up in jail or anything, right? So….”
“No, I didn’t, but I wished I had.”
He forgot about the road for a few moments. With a wave of her hand, she reminded him to watch his driving.
“I was eleven. Daddy and I had had a fight. We were always fighting. I don’t even remember what that particular one was about, but I decided to get even.” Her soft tone filled with regret. “I stole his car after he went to bed. Intended to put it in old man Walker’s pond.”
Dax’s gaze shot to hers. She stared straight ahead and appeared unaware that his attention had deviated from the road.
“Figured I could make it disappear for a few days. Would serve him right.” She looked at him with a humorless laugh. “Things didn’t go as planned.”
“What happened?”
“Twister.” Holly wrapped her arms tight around herself, tension emanating from her in waves. “It was dark. I didn’t see it coming until it was on top of me. The outer winds caught the car and flipped it. I ended up in a cornfield. I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, so I got tossed around as the car rolled.” The shudder that went through her mirrored the one he felt. “Broken arm, broken leg, broken ribs, punctured lung, pretty nasty head injury—skull fracture, they said. I remember lying there, unable to move, because I was so weak and dizzy and hurting so bad, praying for God to let me die.”
His sharp intake of breath couldn’t be masked. He saw a rest area ahead and took the off-ramp. An uneasy premonition warned this story would get worse before it got better.
“I knew if God didn’t kill me, my father would make me wish I’d died.” Holly looked down at hands twisted together in her lap. “I remember praying for God to kill me one minute and the next being in the hospital and them telling me I’d be fine. I cried. They thought it was relief. They were wrong.”
Dax turned off the ignition and mulled her words. What kind of man could make a child feel that way? His mind went back to words she’d written. “He’s just like Daddy.” A sick feeling settled in his gut.
“My prayer wasn’t unanswered. God’s answer was no.” She sighed. Her gaze turned to him, steady and bleak. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Dax?”
Far more than you realize, he wanted to say, but she didn’t know he’d read her little notebook. He nodded slowly. “I think I do.” Crossing his forearms over the steering wheel, Dax leaned his left temple on them. “Doesn’t necessarily make it easy though, does it?”
“I never said it did.” She snorted as though something struck her as funny, but there was no laughter, no humor of any kind in her face. “God doesn’t promise it’ll be easy. He just promises we won’t go through it alone. He’s always there.”
Silence fell again, broken only by the hum and rumble of vehicles passing on the interstate. Dax couldn’t rid himself of the queasiness in his stomach. Holly didn’t speak of her father with any fondness, and she’d compared him to the man. Why? He desperately wanted to ask, but if he did, she’d know he’d invaded her privacy, read her personal notes.
“What did your dad do? After the accident, I mean.” Please, Holly, give me some clue about the man you compare me to.
“At first, nothing.” She shrugged. “I was in the hospital for a couple of weeks. He didn’t visit, not that I thought he would. Mom was there about an hour each day. That’s all he allotted. She had housework to do, meals to prepare, and Shannon to care for. He expected a spotless house and meals on the table on time, no exceptions. Always had, as far back as I can remember.”
Sounds like a tyrant. Dax turned to stare out the windshield, frowning into his forearms.
“After they sent me home, I was either bedridden or wheelchair bound because of broken limbs. He avoided me, except to frown and scowl at me anytime we were in view of each other.”
Her word choice resonated deep, and harsh. She’d accused Dax of those two things—frowning and scowling at her.
“When the casts came off, everything changed.”
He shot a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. Holly’s bleak expression turned downright dark.
“He demanded I work to pay him back for the new car he had to buy. When I wasn’t in school, I did odd jobs around the house or on the property. Mom supervised if he wasn’t there and made sure I got everything done he put on a list each morning. No excuses, no exceptions, no days off, even if I was sick. Mom and Shannon weren’t allowed to help me either.” She rubbed her forehead. “No matter how good a job I did, I never earned his approval. There were times I got things done best I could, only for him to undo it all. ‘Do it right, this time,’ he’d say, without even showing me what I’d done wrong.”
“That hardly seems fair,” Dax said with a tight scowl.
Holly gave him a mildly patronizing look. “You assume he had an interest in fairness.” Her features hardened as memory drew her back into its web.
“Why do I have the feeling that didn’t go on very long?” He couldn’t see her quietly putting up with unreasonable demands for very long.
“Maybe you know me better than you think.” A humorless half-smile curved her mouth. “I did everything he asked for almost six months. Then one day it hit me. No matter what I did, how I did it, or how little I complained, I would never please him or earn his love.”
“His love?” His eyebrows shot up.
Holly startled, her eyes widening as though she’d just realized what she’d said. “I mean, his approval.” With a frown, she looked away. Then she sighed and glanced at him, the dark look returning. Defeat settled heavy across tense shoulders. “Daddy always hated me. I never knew why.” Tears left trails down her face.
He unsnapped his seat belt, then hers, and pulled her into his arms. His cheek against her temple, he absorbed the pain of those words, and the nausea churning his stomach intensified with something that felt strangely like conviction. “Dax hates me,” she wrote. Did Holly believe, because of his behavior, that she could never please him, earn his approval, even his love? Okay, he wasn’t arrogant enough to honestly consider the last one, but what about the former two?
What about her mother? Why hadn’t the woman stepped in to protect her daughter? Why had she allowed her husband to be such a bully? Had she loved Holly, or had she too acted hatefully toward her own child? Dax doubted the latter. He found it difficult to believe her mother’s death would’ve hit so hard if that had been the case. What was he missing in this puzzle?
Maybe their time in Oklahoma would fill in the blanks. Hopefully.
~~~
Several miles of silence later, Holly reclined her seat as far as it would go and fell asleep.
Dax flipped on the radio, the volume low, hoping to mask the occasional roar of a semi-truck and trailer barreling by. He kept the speedometer steady at the legal limit.
As they covered the miles, he contemplated all she’d revealed, how she perceived him (which still smarted), and things he still wanted to know. Needed to know, he admitted less than willingly. She’d gotten under his skin, and he wasn’t certain how to deal with it. No one had ever done that before. Not even his family could slip past Dax’s defenses the way Holly had.
Holly thought Dax hated her. Just like her father. “My dad has always hated me.” He frowned at a sudden thought. Me, not us. What about Shannon? Had their father treated the two girls differently? He fought the desire to wake her and ask. There would be time later.
He was still pondering when they pulled into Amarillo, Texas. A glance at the dash clock said it was lunchtime, past it even, by Arizona time. He searched for a place to eat after leaving the interstate, pulled into the parking lot of a promising prospect, and turned off the radio and ignition.
Releasing his seatbelt, he pivoted in his seat to face Holly. A smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks enchanted him. His insides softened. Now, you’re being silly. Sunlight streaming through the window set red hair ablaze, and he fought the urge to free it from the braid restraining it and close the distance between them to kiss her awake.
That perfectly kissable mouth…. His went dry.
He frowned. That kiss had been nothing short of life-altering, but she’d acted like nothing had happened. He’d almost said something when she’d awakened the next morning, so vulnerable, making him want to kiss her again, but she’d behaved as though nothing happened. What was he supposed to say?
He gently traced the line of her jaw with a fingertip. Soft and warm. Tempting him closer. If he kissed her awake, would she offer one of those breathtaking smiles, or would waking only remind her of the grief she bore?
She stirred awake. Sleep-clouded blue eyes peered into his. Slow recognition brought a gentle smile to her lips.
The flip-flop of his heart confirmed something he’d already feared—he was a goner. No holds barred. His heart ready to surrender. A cold sweat broke out across his neck, and he restrained a strong desire to bolt. He dropped his hand and veiled his expression. He hoped.
“Where are we?” Holly raised the back of her seat, stretched, and looked around, seemingly unaware of his thoughts.
That relieved and disappointed him. The ambiguity annoyed him. What’s with you? “Amarillo,” he said more sharply than he’d intended.
She shot him a hurt look.
Dax suppressed a groan. He’d done it again.
Without a word, Holly got out of the car and slammed the door. She didn’t look back as she marched toward the front door of the restaurant.
“Holly, wait.” He exited the car and trotted after her.
She stopped but didn’t look at him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” The apology wasn’t as painful as he’d expected. “It’s been a long drive, and I’m hungry.” Which sounded lame even to him, but it was all he had other than the truth, and he wasn’t divulging that.
She gave him a speculative look. When it faded, a spark of humor flickered to life.
Odd reaction, but he wasn’t about to make issue of it. He’d take any positive response.
“If I’d known that, I would’ve started plying you with food two years ago.”
When Dax’s brain finally absorbed her implication, he chuckled. Maybe apologies were worth the humiliation… and that lovely, teasing smile. He grinned and pulled open the door of the restaurant.
~~~
Holly slid into a booth. Dax stood next to the table with a questioning quirk of an eyebrow. She returned his look with confusion. What was that about?
“Before I sit down, I need to know one thing.” A hint of challenge in his eyes mated with a teasing grin that lifted her heart. “Will you order your own food, or do I have to guilt you into sharing mine again?”
She hesitated. If she chose the former, he’d slide into the booth across from her, and she would have every practical, reasonable excuse to watch him without raising suspicion. If she chose the latter, he’d slide in next to her so they could share a plate as they had that morning. Right next to her.
Temptation stood before her, and she truly didn’t want to resist. But…. “No guilt necessary.”
He appeared disappointed at first, but an easy smile touched his face so quickly Holly wasn’t sure she’d read him right. She grabbed a menu from the end of the table and opened it, giving herself something to do as he slid into the seat across from her.
~~~
They ate in companionable silence. Holly considered breaking it, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. Questions burned in her mind, but she discarded them. Each one seemed too personal. Dax probably wouldn’t welcome them. He’d never been a forthcoming person, and he’d shown a marked lack of appreciation for questions aimed in his direction.
So she tried to think of something to tell him about herself. What if he didn’t care to hear it? She hated to trap him in a conversation he wasn’t interested in having, because that’s what he was. Trapped. Unless he drove off without her.
Would he do that? Holly scoffed at the idea, toying with a few leftover bites of food, but couldn’t quite dismiss it. What would it take to push Dax to that point? Should she even consider such a thing? Wasn’t it rather… mean? Not to mention the fix she’d be in if he left her in Amarillo. Of course, it was her car, so if he drove off, she could always report it stolen.
“What’s funny?” Without warning, Dax broke the silence.
Her smile froze, and she shot him a quick look.
His eyes narrowed even as amusement tilted up the corners of his mouth. “Why do you look like I just caught you doing something wrong?”
Heat crawled up Holly’s neck. She looked down at the plate she’d pushed away, unable to meet his gaze for a few seconds. “You’re better off not knowing.” When she looked up, noting skepticism in his expression, she gave him a guilty shrug. “Trust me, you really don’t want to know.”
“You might be surprised what I want to know,” he returned just as softly, mischief lighting green eyes. He set his elbows either side of his empty plate and propped his chin on folded hands.
Her eyes widened. Did he want to know about her? Then she realized he was teasing and shook her head with a light laugh, hoping to mask disappointment.
Her cellphone rang. She pulled it out of her purse, and laughter faded when she saw the name on the screen. With a bracing breath, Holly flipped it open. “Hi, Shannon.”
“Morning, or afternoon, or whatever it is.” Her sigh was beyond weary. “Everything’s arranged, I think. The funeral is tomorrow evening at six o’clock.”
“Okay.” Grief knotted Holly’s stomach again. I shouldn’t have eaten. She closed her eyes and fought to keep lunch down.
“Are you really coming home?” Shannon’s voice was barely more than a whisper, hopeful.
“I’m in Amarillo as we speak.”
“So you’ll be here sometime this evening?”
“Barring accidents, road construction, or car trouble, that’s the plan.”
“Why don’t you stay with us?”
A tremor ran through Holly, her stomach heaving. She swallowed hard. Shannon had mentioned on more than one occasion how their father often visited. Holly didn’t want to be anywhere near the man. It would be difficult enough to be back in town and at the funeral with him. At least that was a public place. Shannon’s home, on the other hand….
Dax reached across the table, concern etching his features. Her free hand disappeared in one of his. She hung on for dear life and hoped it didn’t seem so to him. Looking into his eyes, she recognized a route of escape. “Dax is with me.”
“Dax?” Shannon sounded confused. “As in Deputy Dax Donovan? The one who isn’t nice to you?” Concern vibrated across the airwaves.
“Um, yeah, sort of.” Holly winced at the memory of some of the incidents she’d told Shannon about. Her gaze dropped to their joined hands. Her response hadn’t been clear, but it reflected her confusion. Dax wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be. At least, she didn’t think so. Good grief. Could one person possibly confuse themselves any more? “It’s a long story.”
“I look forward to hearing it.”
Maybe by the time she had to explain it, she’d understand it herself. Hopefully. “I’ll call you when we get to town.”
~~~
Dax watched Holly drop the cellphone in her purse, concern deepening as sadness settled over her features. Her grip on his hand had threatened to cut off circulation, and fear had crossed her face. It had disappeared a split second before she’d told Shannon he was with her, which made no sense. Not after that display of fear in his parents’ kitchen when he’d tried to comfort her.
Did Holly like having him around? I sure hope so.
She didn’t say anything as Dax paid the bill and they returned to the car. Holly dropped her seat back and fell into that growingly familiar silence as the car ate up the interstate.
He focused on the road, fighting the desire to watch her sleep. I don’t need to get us killed. As he reached for the radio, her voice startled him.
“Are there really things about me you want to know?”
Dax shot her a quick look and realized Holly was wide awake and watching him, her gaze as full of doubt as her tone.
“Why does that surprise you?”
She shrugged, her gaze skipping past the hood of the car. “Like what?” she asked after several heartbeats.
“Like, why you left Oklahoma in such a hurry.”
She tensed. He saw it out of the corner of his eye.
“I don’t want to talk about that. It’s too humiliating,” She propped her feet up on the front of the seat. “What else do you want to know?”
“What was your mom like?” he ventured cautiously after a moment’s consideration. Was she truly opening the door to let him into her life?
“You don’t go for the easy stuff, do you?” She sounded quite disgusted. And weary. Holly sighed then grew quiet.
So much for getting answers. He bit back disappointment and more than a little impatience.
“I’ve been trying to remember good things.” The words fell into the silence several miles later. “I can’t remember any. All that comes to mind is bad stuff.”
“Like what?” Keep her talking. If she lost momentum, he might not get her going again.
“Like… I must’ve been about seven, maybe eight. Daddy came home one day and went to get something out of the storm cellar. Next thing we heard was him yelling. Mom ran to see what was wrong. I followed and hid behind the door so they wouldn’t see me. He cussed and screamed at her then stormed out, got in his truck, and left.”
“What was he mad about?”
“He found dirt on the floor.”
“And?” Dax prompted when she didn’t continue.
“Daddy expected an immaculate house, and that included the storm cellar. If everything wasn’t in perfect order, he lost it.” Holly shifted, turning to face him. “Do you realize I keep my apartment straight and clean because of him?” She laughed without humor and shook her head. “How insane is that? He’s never been near my apartment, but if there’s even one thing out of order, I hear him screaming and cussing about it.”
“It’s hard to erase those recordings.” He understood far better than she could ever guess. In his peripheral vision, he saw her nod.
“Mom scrubbed every inch of the storm cellar before he came back that night. He was so drunk, he didn’t even remember yelling at her.” Holly wrapped her arms tight around herself.
He took his eyes off the road for a moment, concerned by how she seemed to fold inward right before his eyes.
“He wasn’t too drunk to demand more of her though.”
“You mean…?” He couldn’t figure out how to word the dreadful thought that reared up.
She nodded. “I still remember the expression on her face when he pawed at her before their bedroom door closed. She looked so trapped. So defeated. She didn’t have any fight in her. She cried herself to sleep that night. I’m sure she tried to be quiet, but the walls in that house were too thin to….” Her gaze dropped to her lap. “It wasn’t the first time, or the last.”
Dax’s stomach twisted at the thought of any man breaking a woman so ruthlessly, much less a child seeing her mother like that. What role did that play in Holly’s behavior—her readiness to rise to a fight? Did she fear ending up beaten down and defeated like her mother? The thought made him ill and kicked in every protective instinct he’d never known he possessed. He wanted to pull Holly close and erase those hideous memories.
“Since I’ve been in Arizona, I’ve longed to talk to her, tell her she doesn’t have to live with the abuse. He doesn’t have the right to treat her that way.” Tears cracked her voice, which dropped to a whisper. “I prayed for God to kill him, to set her free.” A heavy sigh escaped, and she sniffled, reaching under the seat for a box of Kleenex. She blew her nose. “Another prayer God said no to.”
“When was the last time you spoke with your mother?” Dax asked, her words raising suspicion.
She dabbed at tears. “About a month after I left home, I settled in Phoenix. I called Mom to let her know I was staying with an elderly couple I’d met at church. I wanted her to know I was safe.” She looked to him for understanding.
He nodded.
“Daddy came home while we were talking. I heard him ask who she was talking to. She told him. Right before he slammed the phone down, he said she wasn’t to talk to me, that I was dead.”
Dax wasn’t sure his stomach could take much more. Lunch threatened to come back up. Her childhood, her upbringing, had been so different from his. Even in the midst of some royal screw-ups on his part, he’d never doubted his parents’ love for him. They’d never given him reason. He couldn’t imagine either of his parents saying something so hateful.
“She never took another call from me, no matter what time of day I called. She also returned my letters unopened.”
Hurt filled the car. Dax fought the urge to roll a window down to get rid of the stifling air. Outright hated by her father, and her mother hadn’t loved her enough to fight for her. Rejected by both parents, each in their own way. He could see it as clearly as if her experiences were written on his own heart and soul.
“What a horrible thing to do to a child,” Dax said when he could pry open the invisible fist squeezing his throat.
“Sometimes I think it’s good I’ll never have children.” Holly’s voice was suddenly, disturbingly dispassionate. A glance showed a deep, hollow sadness in her eyes.
“Why won’t you have kids?”
She gave him a you-can’t-be-serious look. “I should think that’d be obvious to a blind man.”
“Consider me blind, deaf, and dumb then.” No sooner had the words exited his mouth than a thought occurred to him. “Is something physically wrong with you?”
“No.” With a confused look that soon cleared, she shook her head. “There’s nothing physically wrong that precludes me from having a child. Not that I know of anyway.”
“Then why do you sound so certain?”
“I can’t believe you really have to ask that. Don’t you know me well enough by now to answer that question for yourself?” Holly’s surprise seemed genuine.
“Humor me,” he said dryly.
“You’ve seen my temper. What kind of man wants to saddle himself with that for the rest of his life?” She held up a hand when Dax opened his mouth to answer. “I can tell you. The kind who looks at me and sees a spirited horse he wants to break. I want none of it!”
The certainty in the declaration generated an uneasy feeling that crept up his spine and gripped his throat again. She’d written those same words in her prayer journal. “Who said that to you?”
Her eyes widened, and she paled. She’d apparently revealed more than intended. She looked away, her gaze going out the passenger window. “It doesn’t matter.”
Yeah, it did, but pushing her for the answer would probably be fruitless. Dax clenched his teeth to keep his mouth shut.