The Isaac Project (18 page)

Becky didn’t say anything but fidgeted with her hands. I wanted to have mercy on her. She was obviously uncomfortable and somewhat embarrassed. But the subject was too important.

“I noticed that you were getting a bit, well, nervous, when we were coming back from the hospital, and I was waiting for you to tell me what was on your mind. I figured it had something to do with the sleeping arrangements. Was I right?”

Becky nodded once.

“I thought so. Look, I’m not going to lie to you. I find you desirable, and I will probably have to take my fair share of cold showers.” I grinned at her to lighten the tension. “But I won’t force myself on you. The act of lovemaking is just that—love. When the love between us blossoms, then we can consider showing each other that affection in a physical way.”

I nudged Becky in the shoulder. “What do you say?”

She laughed lightly. “I don’t know what to say.” She turned her big eyes on me. “Thank you.”

Taking her face in my hands, I tipped her head down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Go get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Becky walked toward the bedroom, her hips swaying. I gulped and forced my eyes up. I’d meant every word I’d said to her, but it might prove harder than I’d originally thought. The door clicked shut. I shook my head and chuckled. If my teenaged self were there, I’d owe him a big apology. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought I’d be spending my wedding night sleeping on a couch…alone. And yet I was pretty sure reality was going to turn out better than anything I could have ever dreamed up.

19

Rebekah

THE MORNING SUN filtered through sheer curtains hanging in front of the window opposite my bed. I swung my legs over the side and sat on the edge, head in hands. Coffee. I needed some, and fast. It would evict the fog clouding my mind. Maybe then I could form a coherent thought, even plan out my day.

I stood and padded into the next room, tunnel vision and a one-track mind making me oblivious to my surroundings. Sweet elixir of life, I cradled a warm cup in my hands. My vision widened, and my eyes snagged on the neatly folded sheets and blankets tucked in the corner of the couch.

My breath hitched, and I looked around. How could I have been such a ninny? Had I really forgotten, even for a moment, everything that had happened?  Where was Luke? I looked down at the dark-brown liquid sloshing in my mug. My shaking hands and jumbled nerves were an accident waiting to happen. I set the cup on the counter.

If it wasn’t for the proof right before my eyes, I’d think yesterday was some sort of surreal out-of-body experience. I looked at my left hand. My mother’s ring sparkled, and I slid my thumb along the underside of the band. Married. Not a concept I could easily wrap my head around. Where was that husband of mine anyway? There wasn’t exactly space in my small house to hide a man of his stature.

My stomach grumbled. Hide-and-seek would have to wait. I needed some breakfast.

As I made my way over to the cupboard to grab the Raisin Bran, I noticed a note waiting for me on the table. I chewed on my bottom lip. Did I want to read it? Maybe he had come to his senses and hightailed it back to the Midwest. Who could blame him really? Baby steps brought me closer to the folded paper. A deep breath and I picked it up.

            
Becky,

                  
I have to go in and report at the fire station

                  
this morning. I meant to tell you last night,

                  
but it slipped my mind with all the other

                  
excitement. I should be home tonight, but if

                  
something comes up, I’ll call you. I hope you

                  
have a great day!

                                          
Love,

                                          
Luke

The note was nothing special really—just telling me where he was and when he’d be back. But even so, it sent my brain flying in all directions. Why did he sign it “Love, Luke”? Did he sign all his letters that way? Was I reading more into it than he meant to put there, or did he really mean love? Impossible. We’d only known each other for two days. His voice gonged through my head: “I don’t want you to think of me as a stranger anymore—I’m your husband.”

Of course, both were true.

He was a stranger.

But he was also my husband.

I massaged my temples. Somehow I was going to have to start training my brain to think of him as only my husband and not as a stranger.

Lord, I am confused and not just a little scared. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I had only planned on
getting
married and made no plans on
being
married.

I paused in my prayers, hoping for some response. Nothing. Wouldn’t it be handy if God sent e-mails? With a sigh, I pushed off the table and strode out the door, Lady ever faithful by my side. I might have been confused in my relationships, but I was confident with my horses, and they needed my attention right now.

A quick check assured me that all the horses that had been out at pasture yesterday were still on their feet and appeared to be recovering nicely. I didn’t waste any time starting the morning chores and mixed all the horses’ feed with the finesse of someone who had done it hundreds of times before. Which I had. Being the prince that Artie was, he took up more of my time than any of the others, but even he didn’t detain me too long.

With the feeding done, I was free to finally head out to the pasture and investigate a little more. There was no way what I’d told Luke to feed the horses the day before would have caused them to colic. Plus, the remnants of moldy hay had been a mystery. I only fed my horses hay in the winter when the grass wasn’t as plentiful, and I would never have moldy hay kept on my property. As a precaution, Luke and I had moved the horses into the south pasture last night.

Opening the gate, Lady darted through, and I followed at a more reasonable pace, pushing a wheelbarrow with a rake inside. Even at a distance, I could see a few mounds of hay along the back fence line. Thankfully, the horses hadn’t eaten all of it, or I might have been hiring a backhoe to dig a few graves this morning.

The sun hadn’t even made it to the peak of its ascent before I was, for the second time that day, asking myself questions that I had no answers for.

Who would throw moldy hay into my pasture? Did he or she mean to just scare me, or did the person really mean to kill my horses?

I couldn’t think of a single person who would do something like that, much less have a reason for doing it. No matter who it was that did it, or why, the fact remained unchanged that every single strand of hay needed to be removed from the pasture. Raking the putrid stuff into a pile, I bent down and gathered as much as I could in my arms before dropping it into the wheelbarrow.

It was like hugging a porcupine. The strands poked into the tender flesh of my skin and left a residue that had me itching and wishing for a shower. Unfortunately, a shower was nowhere in my immediate future. As soon as I scooped up the remainder of the offending hay and picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow to push it out of the pasture, Mrs. Steinbeck’s spotless red Prius pulled into the driveway.

She stepped out in pristine black slacks and stiletto heels. Her designer jacket hugged her curves and accentuated her every attribute. It didn’t matter how ridiculous it was that she stepped foot on a ranch in four-inch heels—a surefire way to break an ankle—the sight of her refinement instantly made me feel like a frump. Lifting my hand, I waved until she saw me, then I pushed the wheelbarrow through the gate. Leaving it there, I ambled over to Mrs. Steinbeck. The force of her glare and the tension emanating from her person slowed my steps.

“What a pleasant surprise to see you today, Mrs. Steinbeck.” I forced friendliness into my voice, although the wariness welling inside nearly choked out any amiability.

“Is it true?” she demanded.

A piece of hay on my shoulder caught in my peripheral vision, and I lifted my left hand to brush it away. Before I could ask Mrs. Steinbeck what in the world she was talking about, she reached out and grabbed my hand faster than a viper striking at its prey.

“It is true.” Accusation seethed from every word as she inspected my mother’s ring on my finger.

To say I was speechless would be an understatement. Mrs. Steinbeck had never shown any personal interest in my life. Our relationship was purely professional, and I couldn’t imagine why that had changed. And why the change came with such a negative reaction.

She dropped my hand as if stung and crossed her delicate arms. “I can’t believe you got married. The little mishap with James just happened. You didn’t even give him time to come to his senses. He would have, you know. He loves you very much.”

This conversation was something out of a dream. No, a nightmare.

“James? He cheated on me, Mrs. Steinbeck. He made his decision long before I did.” I hated the fact that just thinking about it brought a pang to my chest.

She waved her hand as if swatting at a pesky fly. “A little misjudgment is all. Every man’s head is turned by a pretty face and feminine figure. It’s our job to turn our men’s heads back again.” Pivoting her weight back to give herself a better view, she tilted her head and let her eyes roam over me from the top of my hair to the tip of my toes and back again. “You, my dear, could do a lot better in that department.”

My hands balled into fists so tight I could feel my nails biting into my palms. Even so, I tried not to let Mrs. Steinbeck see how her remark had cut me. If I’d been thinking a little more clearly and a little less emotionally, I might have actually felt sorry for the woman. I might have seen the real reason behind the designer clothes and perfectly arranged hair. All I saw was red.

“Why do you even care, Mrs. Steinbeck?” I ground out the words in the most even tone I could muster.

“James is my cousin, and you broke his heart.”

“
I
broke
his
heart?” My voice rose, and Lady trotted over to my side to comfort me in my obvious distress.

“Yes. And family comes first. From now on, Jessica and I will go someplace else for her hippotherapy sessions. I’m sure you understand.”

Without another word, she got in her car and drove away.

***

Hours later, I still fumed. No longer able to ignore the protests of my hungry stomach, I’d come into the house to find something to eat. The pantry and countertops took the brunt of my foul mood as I slammed down a jar of peanut butter and used more force than necessary to close the pantry door.

Lady darted from her typical napping place and ran barking to the door. A sharp reprimand coated my tongue as the front door opened.

“Honey, I’m home.”

The sing-song male voice reached my ears a second before the smell of Chinese takeout tickled my nose. The spicy chilies of a good Szechuan sauce would match my mood perfectly.

“I hope you like Chinese food.”

Luke sauntered up behind me, bent down, and placed a very quick kiss on my cheek. At least I thought his lips touched my skin. It was so feathery light he could have just kissed the air near my cheek. It didn’t really matter either way. I wasn’t in the mood to play June Cleaver and the happily-in-love married couple.

“How was your day?” Luke removed the takeout containers from the plastic bag.

“Fine.” I returned the peanut butter to the pantry, careful not to let the door smack shut. Although, I wasn’t sure why I bothered.

The crinkling of plastic stopped, and I could feel the full force of Luke’s appraisal. “From my very limited experience, when a woman says she’s ‘fine,’ that means she’s anything but fine.”

I ground my teeth. “I said I’m fine.”

Luke stood in front of me, but I refused to look up at him. I was trying to put a lid on my anger, and if I looked up, it just might boil over. Of course, Luke had no idea that he might get burned. He crooked a finger under my chin, gently lifting until I was forced to look in his eyes.

“I heard what you said, but I’m going to ask you again anyway. How was your day?”

My eyes narrowed, and I jerked my head away from his touch. Stalking over to the food, I finished taking the rest of the containers out of the plastic bag, each one landing with a thud on the counter.

“I thought we agreed to communicate. That I wouldn’t have to guess what you were thinking.” Luke’s patient voice held no condemnation, which only infuriated me more.

Swinging around to face him, I let my words fly like poisoned darts. “We didn’t agree. You told me what you wanted. Well, I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but we don’t always get what we want.”

I regretted my words the second the left my mouth, but there was no taking them back.

Pain flashed in his eyes as the words hit their mark. “I’m going to the barn.” I turned, not wanting to look at his hurt-filled eyes. “Don’t wait up for me.”

I stayed in the barn until every last visage of fury drained from my body. Everyone always said life wasn’t fair. Boy, were they ever right. James cheating on me certainly wasn’t fair. I snorted. There was no way Mrs. Steinbeck blaming me and punishing me for it even remotely came close to being fair. A heavy weight sunk in my gut, and I hung my head. Was it fair that I’d taken out all my anger and frustration on a man who didn’t deserve it? My throat worked as I swallowed a lump the size of gold rush nugget. I needed to apologize.

Had the dirt walk between the barn and the house turned to quicksand? My legs felt heavy as I trudged up the path, the small cottage looming before me. I paused in front of the front door and took a deep breath. Big-girl words. That was what I needed if this marriage was going to work. I turned the knob and walked in.