The Isaac Project (24 page)

Lisa released me and plunked down in the empty chair by my side. “What about Becky? Does she love you too? Of course she does.” She gave me an appraising look. “What’s not to love?”

“Hey!” Sam objected.

Lisa waved away his protest as if it were an annoying gnat. “Oh, don’t be jealous, Sam. You know I love you.”

Sam harrumphed and crossed his arms over his chest. He made a show of being hurt, but the edges of his eyes were soft as he gazed at his girlfriend.

“Well, son.” Uncle David drew our attention. “What do you say? Do you think Becky returns your feelings?”

My confidence waned. I might have known where my heart was, but I was lost when it came to knowing where my wife’s heart was. Images of our good-bye kiss flashed through my mind, and my doubts faded a bit. But did a kiss, sweet and passionate though it was, evidence the love in Becky’s heart? I wasn’t sure.

The sigh that escaped seemed to have taken all my energy with it. I leaned heavily on my forearms, which rested on the table.  “That’s just it. I don’t know. She has this annoying habit of making me guess what she’s thinking and feeling instead of just telling me outright.”

Uncle David guffawed and slapped his knee. I didn’t know I had said anything funny, but my uncle wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, and his shoulders shook.

“Ho, ho, sorry about that, Luke.” Uncle David gasped as he regained his composure. “It’s just that you seem to be experiencing something that men have been complaining about for generations.”

Aunt Margaret slapped her husband on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to this old man, Luke. He wouldn’t know what a woman was talking about even if she spelled it out for him.”

“It would be nice if you’d do that every once in a while,” my uncle mumbled under his breath.

“You have to remember that Becky is pretty independent,” Lisa said. “She lives alone and owns her own business that employs exactly one person, herself. She doesn’t have the experience or the need as others do to communicate what is on her mind. Plus, she’s recently been burned in the romance department. I’m sure she’s dealing with some trust issues right now.”

I nodded. “You’re right.” But where did that leave me? What was I supposed to do? Should I confront her? Press her until she told me where she stood, how she felt? Or should I give her space, let her move at her own pace and hope she’ll eventually come to the realization on her own that I could be trusted, that I was committed to her, and that I loved her?

Dear God, show me what to do.
The path was as hazy and obscure as any burning building I had run into.

***

Rebekah

It had been three days since Luke boarded a plane for Michigan. Two days since learning about his nefarious character, his duplicity, his treachery, his unfaithfulness. I shook my head. What was the use of listing his act of betrayal in the form of synonyms? Dwelling on the hurt he had caused would never solve anything.

Besides, yesterday I had come up with a plan. Not that strategizing had served me well in the past. In fact, it was my last plan that had landed me in this predicament. But what else was I to do? I wasn’t going down without a fight. It was my life after all. A girl deserved at least a shred of happiness in this pitiful existence, and it looked like my sliver came in the form of a nice quiet life on a ranch by myself. Alone. No one to turn my life upside down with deceit and crush my heart with deception.

Luke was a class A actor. He had me fooled from the get-go. I considered making him a mock Oscar from the Academy Awards of cheaters. Well, he could just continue his little charade. For now anyway. No need to upset Poppy and dash his dreams when he had so little time left.

Originally, I’d thought to cut Luke loose as soon as his feet hit California soil again. That strategy went up in smoke at Grandview yesterday when I went to visit Poppy. I had no medical degree, but even I could tell he was getting worse. Just another knife wound to my already bleeding heart.

But we had a saying out here in the country, and I needed to heed it and cowgirl up. Get back on the horse of life that seemed to enjoy bucking me to the ground. Well, I’d pull my boots up and dust myself off. Life went on, and so would I.

Why had Luke married me in the first place though? It’s not like marrying me gave him wealth, power, or prestige. I was a nobody from a small town who barely made enough money to pay the bills every month. What was in it for him? If he had a woman back in Michigan, then why leave her for me? I never did understand men. Especially cheating scoundrels. I guess some things never change.

It didn’t matter. All I needed to understand now was how to push my feelings aside and live an undetermined amount of time in marital bliss—I choked on the thought—then, when the worst happened, when Poppy left me for good, Luke could pack his bags and take a hike.

26

Luke

I’D SPENT SEVEN hours on two different planes and two hours at a layover in the Minneapolis airport, giving me plenty of time to think of a way to win Becky’s heart. Or, if I’d already won it, to get her to tell me I had. And what did I have for my trouble? Nothing. Zero. Zilch. I was right where I was when I had left Michigan, with no idea how to proceed.

The people in the terminal ebbed and flowed around me. Some headed toward the exit I recognized from my flight. Others were going in the opposite direction, to various gates and departing aircrafts. I dodged a man sprinting down the corridor, obviously running late.

My heart rate increased the closer I came to the exit. I’d see Becky again in a few minutes.

As I passed the security checkpoint, my eyes scanned the people milling around for my blond-haired cowgirl. She leaned against the far wall, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her jeans were tucked into a pair of brown leather cowboy boots, hair pulled up in a ponytail. She was looking down at the ground and didn’t see me until I stood in front of her. She pushed herself off the wall and uncrossed her arms.

I couldn’t wait another second. I enveloped her in a warm hug and swung her around in a circle. It felt good to have her in my arms again. Although, as I rotated around again, I noticed the limpness of her body.

No, not limp. That implied softness and fragility. Becky was more like dead weight. As unresponsive and hard as a brick wall.

I set her back down on her feet, moving my hand up to her shoulder. I looked at her, confused. She refused to meet my eyes.

“Becky?”

“We better go,” she said as she started to walk away. “We have a long drive ahead of us.”

I caught up to her and touched her arm. She stopped but still didn’t look at me. “Becky, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She started walking again. “I’m fine.”

I didn’t bother stopping her this time. Instead, I matched my stride to hers and walked beside her. “Nothing? Fine? So in other words, something and you’re upset.”

She spared me a glance out of the corner of her eye but continued walking.

I caught a growl in the back of my throat and tempered my growing frustration.
Patience, Luke, patience.

We approached Becky’s truck, and I jerked open the door, making the rusty hinge creak. Stepping up on the runner, I plunked down in the passenger’s seat and set my bag at my feet under the dashboard.

I waited until we reached the freeway and my head was cool to broach the subject once more. “So are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“How was your trip? Did you have
fun
?” Becky evaded my question by changing the subject. And what was with the emphasis on the word fun? It wasn’t like it had been a pleasure trip.

“It was nice seeing my family, if that’s what you mean.”

Becky gave an unladylike snort. What was up with her?

“Lisa says hi, by the way.”

Some of the icy facade melted.

It was really eating me up, this change that had come over my wife. Three days ago we had shared a moment of passion, and now I was getting a frigid blast from the Arctic Circle. I wanted to explode, to shake the answers from her if necessary. I contemplated pressing her until she unlocked whatever secret she was harboring, but the quiet voice of caution still whispered in the recesses of my mind. Maybe all Becky needed was some space. Most of the time these things worked themselves out, right?

I sighed, deflated. Leaning forward, the seat belt cut into my shoulder. I unzipped my bag and pulled out a small wooden box. My finger traced a line around its edges. I wasn’t sure what type of wood the box was made out of. I only knew it held a rich honey hue. The three ballerinas etched on the lid sparkled as the sun caught the gold overlay poured in their grooves.

I placed the box on the center console between Becky’s seat and my own. “I got you something.”

She looked over but edged away as if she was afraid the thing would bite her. “What is it?”

“I know I probably should have waited till we got home. Especially since you’re driving. But I couldn’t wait.” I let my enthusiasm tinge my voice. Maybe it would rub off on her, and she would stop making furtive looks of revulsion at my gift.

I opened the lid, and the strands of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” wafted through the cabin, accompanied by the ever-present hum of the truck’s diesel engine. The ballerina inside sprang up and twirled, one arm raised gracefully above her head and the other poised in a curve in front of her waist. Her legs were pressed tightly together, one crossed in front of the other, her feet perfectly arched, and all her invisible weight placed on her pointed toes. Below her, the box was covered in soft blue velvet, waiting for priceless trinkets and keepsakes.

“Do you like it?” I asked, my eagerness giving way to uncertainty.

Becky looked like she was struggling. Her mouth opened and then closed without any sound passing her lips. I thought I saw the sheen of unshed tears, but then she blinked, and I wasn’t so sure. Her spine went ramrod straight and her shoulders pushed back.

“I can’t accept that.”

“What?” Her words hit my heart like shards of ice. “Why not?”

Becky let out a gust of breath and her shoulders slumped. “Oh, Luke, don’t make such a big deal about it. It’s just a…a…a stupid box.”

A stupid box? My lungs collapsed. Granted, it wasn’t the Hope Diamond or some priceless family jewels, but I thought she loved ballet. All things with those fluffy skirt. I thought I knew at least something important about my wife.

I didn’t know anything.

With a heavy heart, I softly closed the lid to the music box, cutting off the sweet notes drifting through the vehicle. Returning the unwanted gift to my bag, I leaned back in the seat and stared out the window. Trees and buildings whizzed past my vision. The tension in the cab intensified with each mile. Becky jumped out of the truck a split second after she rammed the transmission into park and stalked toward the barn without a word.

I trudged toward the house with a tornado of confusion and frustration blowing inside my head. I really needed to find a local gym. The muscles in my shoulders bunched as the tension in my body increased. My fists itched to release the tightly wound stress on a punching bag. Pounding the pavement in my running shoes would have to work for now.

I quickly changed into a pair of gym shorts and a wicking shirt. As I stepped out of the house, I looked toward the barn. I considered informing Becky that I was going for a run, but shook my head. She didn’t care where I was or what I was doing. Conversation with her right now seemed pointless, and I didn’t care to be on the receiving end of another scornful look or scathing retort.

I didn’t bother stretching. I needed open road, and I needed it now. I lengthened my stride and set out at a fast pace. With every slap of my foot on the asphalt, the cacophony booming between my ears died. Soon, the only sound I was conscious of was the cadence of my feet and the rhythm of my breathing. Sweat, hot and salty, burned my eyes. I blinked back the sting, refusing to lose the tempo of the run.

My legs ate up mile after mile. My lungs burned and my heart pounded, but still I pushed myself forward. The sun was setting behind me, giving way to the twilight that was beginning to ascend in my path. To my right and left, the sky was a soft, light shade of blue, ever darkening across the horizon toward the center of my vision. The first stars of night began to dot the sky.

When I reached the driveway, I finally allowed my body to slow. My chest heaved in my lungs’ attempt to take in more oxygen. My wet shirt clung to my skin, and I shook out the exhaustion from my arms.

The lights in the house and barn were off, and the property was getting darker by the second as the husky glow of twilight faded to the stark blackness of night. Becky’s truck was gone, and I kicked myself at the relief I felt.

A jiggling of the knob revealed the front door locked. Thankfully we’d had a key made when I first moved in. Unlocking the door, I stepped inside and turned on the light. First thing I needed was a shower. I was sweaty and tired and just wanted to stand under the steady stream of warm water.

I grabbed a towel from the cabinet and turned the knob on Becky’s door. My shoulder bounced off the wooden barrier when it refused to open. Locked. Really? I didn’t even know the door had a lock on it. Becky had never used it before.

A growl tore from the back of my throat as my fist slammed against the door. If I ever met the person who built this poorly designed house, I’d have a few choice words to say to him. Whoever heard of having to go through the bedroom to get to the only bathroom?

Running out of options and patience, I called Becky. It went straight to voice mail.

Dried sweat left a stiff white ring on my skin. I wasn’t sure when Becky would be home and I was running out of time. I had to leave early in the morning for training and still needed to pack for the weeklong trip.

Not liking my options, I grabbed some soap and stalked out of the house, slamming the door behind me. The air was cooling without the heat from the sun, but it felt good against my warm skin. My blood was still pumping hard from my run and now, also, from my rising temper.