Broken Build (15 page)

“Little Davey Jewell, you’re a bad boss. You heard what the pastor said.” She poked his bicep. What had gotten into her to be so bold?

“If I weren’t at church, I’d pinch that sassy lip of yours.” His grin wormed its way into the corners of her heart.

After the announcements, the pastor asked them to turn their Bibles to Psalm 51 and 1
^st
John Chapter 1. The flipping of the Bibles in the huge three-tiered auditorium sounded like a sea of flapping gulls.

The pastor preached about King David and his sordid sin with Bathsheba. Jen swallowed a lump. She, too, needed to be cleansed. King David acknowledged his transgressions and was forgiven. Had she truly acknowledged what she had done? Or had she covered it with excuses? She desired a clean heart. But how?

They flipped to 1
^st
John Chapter 1 verse 9.
If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

Would the pastor take her confession after the service? Her knees trembled and she barely listened to the rest of the sermon. But even if she was forgiven, Abby was still lost. Maybe God would bring her back if she confessed and said she was sorry.

The sermon ended and the congregation stood while the pianos played. The pastor told everyone to stand with their heads down and eyes closed, no one looking around. He asked them to raise their hands if they wanted to be forgiven of their sins, to ask Jesus to save them.

Jen raised her hand. And she held it up even after the pastor said they may put it down. She wanted to be the first one to make confession. The piano played another hymn, and people started walking to the front. But she couldn’t move. Her crutches were under the seat.

Dave prodded her, his gaze intent. “Do you want to go up there?”

She shrunk and shook her head. He’d get suspicious. Others were sprawled over the burgundy carpeted steps. The pastor continued to drone about people coming forward, but he didn’t move toward any of the penitents. Doubt and questions swirled. She couldn’t go forward. Even if God forgave her, Dave might not. He’d always hate her, and she couldn’t blame him.

The piano stopped playing and people returned to their seats. The pastor made a few announcements about the evening service and dismissed the large assembly. The moment had passed, and a pit dropped in Jen’s stomach, as if she had missed the last train.

Chapter 14

Dave opened the door of the SUV and helped Jen climb in. He handed her the Bible Pastor Thomason gave her. “Did you like the church?”

“Yes, thanks. I did.” Her smile clung to him, and her gaze tracked him around the front of the SUV.

He settled into the driver’s seat. “But you didn’t get any candy.”

“I enjoyed it, anyway. Thanks for bringing me.” Her eyes sparkled, and for a moment, it was like seeing Jocelyn on the day he proposed. Mrs. Thomason had told Jen she was glad to see Dave out with a nice girl—that it was about time he started to live again. Then Pastor Thomason said he hadn’t seen Dave so happy for a long while. Jen had blushed and accepted the Bible, and now, she looked expectant, even hopeful.

He turned away from her and started the engine. He better end this charade before he hurt her. His chest tightened and ached. He could never love her the way he loved Jocelyn. His Blackberry beeped with a received text message. After checking it, he glanced at Jen.

“Is the build okay?” she asked.

He handed her his Blackberry. “Greta texted me and said all’s fine. You want anything to eat?”

“I’m not hungry after that nice breakfast you served.”

He winced. That smile, the one that made him giddy and sad at the same time. Was she coming on to him with all that sweetness? And her fragrance, fresh and clean, innocent like the morning surf. Like Jocelyn had been. He followed the trail of cars out the parking lot. He missed Jocelyn badly. He’d bring Jen to the place he proposed to Jocelyn and explain his feelings. Every other woman he brought there had run and never looked back.

“Let’s go for a long drive.” His voice was tight in his throat. “I feel like going to Santa Cruz.”

“Okay.” She scrolled through the messages. “I wonder how it’s really going. Greta says everything’s fine. To you.”

“I’m sure it’s okay.” Dave switched on the radio and turned up the volume. Jen idly flipped through the Bible, but he could tell she wasn’t reading it. The miles rolled by and before long, Jen dozed off.

 The highway ended and Dave wound his way past the tourist traffic to Lighthouse Point Park. Jen woke as soon as he cut the engine. She yawned and stretched, then blinked and discreetly wiped her wrist over a trickle of drool. Dave gave her a napkin and reached in back for his jacket. Whitecaps crested in the ocean below, and the few trees behind them flailed in the gusty wind.

He helped her out and draped the buttery soft glove-leather jacket over her shoulders. Her eyelids fluttered appreciatively, and he cringed inside. They hadn’t even known each other long, but he felt as if he were cutting her heart out. Or maybe it was his own heart on the table.

He sniffed the salty tang of the sea. Gulls screeched from the rocks. “Let’s go to that overlook behind those trees. How’s the ankle?

“It’s actually better. I only need one crutch, see?” She grabbed a crutch and hopped toward the edge of the parking lot in the direction of the sea wall.

He shoved the other crutch on the back seat and jogged after her. “It might get a bit rocky. Wouldn’t want you turning your other ankle.”

She hopped faster and laughed. “You can’t even catch a crippled girl.”

“Here, give me your hand.” He intertwined his fingers around hers and pulled her toward the edge of a cliff. They made their way on a rocky trail to a bench tucked among a grove of cypress, facing a sea wall.

“The view’s so beautiful.” Jen’s teeth flashed behind her generous smile.

He stowed her crutch under the bench and inhaled deeply.
Jocelyn, are you watching me? You said you’d want me to be happy, but I can’t forget what we had.

The wind whipped Jen’s hair over her face. “Oh, look.” She pointed. “There are surfers out there. Have you ever surfed?”

Dave swallowed. Long ago, before college, he had lived in those freezing waves, always ready to catch the next big one. “Used to.”

“Something wrong?” Her brow furrowed. She touched his arm before looking down over the wall at the jagged rocks below.

“N-nothing…”

She stepped away from the edge and hugged the jacket tighter. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I-uh, we, I-I can’t get attached to you.” He spoke as if to the gunmetal grey water, his hands propped on the wall.

Below them, surfers bobbed outside the range of the breakers like little black buoys. She stood behind him. “It’s okay. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“But the kissing was inappropriate. I’m your CEO.”

“Forgotten.”

The way she tossed that word deflated him. Solitary, flat, emotionless. He turned and caught her scowl. “What about this morning? When I took you to church?”

“What about it?” She crossed her arms and appeared to study the surf breaking on the rock formation below, dragging bits of kelp and sea grass in its wake.

“Jen.” He tugged her to face him. “Stop pretending nothing happened.”

Her jaw trembled. “Why are we having this conversation?”

“Because I felt a connection, whether you want to admit it or not, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

She blinked into the wind. “Is that what you tell all your women?”

“I don’t have all these women.”

“What about your alibi? The warm bed?”

“Married and not mine.” This wasn’t going well. He rubbed the back of his neck. A gull floated overhead on the wind current, seemingly suspended in midair. “Besides, I’m ending it.”

She pulled her hair back and twisted it under the jacket’s collar. “Do whatever you want. Doesn’t matter to me.”

“Dammit, Jen.” He pulled her to his chest. “You felt it too. You wanted me. You kissed me like you meant it.”

She pushed back sharply. “What? So you can blow me off? Stroke your ego?”

Her eyes flashed hurt, spearing his heart. He caressed the beauty mark on her jaw. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

“Please… think of something more original, will you?”

He should let it go. Take her to lunch and leave her at her apartment. But the thugs were still at large. He clutched her hand and brought it to his lips and cupped it on his jaw. He kissed the pulse point inside her wrist and rubbed his cheek in her palm. “It’s Jocelyn. I made a vow to love her forever. She watches me from Heaven, although she can’t see me when I sin. But this is not sinning. I’m not married anymore. Taking you to church is not sinning. Praying for your soul is not sinning. Being honest with you is not sinning. She can see me now. It’s uncensored.”

“W-wait.” Jen’s fingers lingered on his jaw. “I thought the priests say they see you sinning and weep for you.”

He let go her hand and touched the side of her head. “There’s no sin in Heaven, right?”

“I guess.”

“So they can’t see you when you sin down here.”

She slid her hand down the side of his neck and rested it on his shoulder. “You prayed for my soul?”

“I want you to be forgiven.” He kissed her forehead. “Whatever you did. I want you to be happy, and I don’t want to hurt you, so I’m being honest with you.”

Dave braced himself and closed his eyes, his hands still clutching her shoulders. Most women would be backing away about now, eyes wide, head shaking, making an excuse. Painful shocks coursed through his veins at the thought of never seeing her again—the last expression on her face that of pity and disgust while she walked out of his life forever.

“Dave.” She stroked his jaw and tickled the cleft in his chin with her thumb. “You’re not hurting me. I understand how you feel about her.”

He moved at the same time she leaned toward him. Their foreheads bumped. She laughed, and he captured her smile with his lips. The breeze calmed; the sun warmed his back. Crazy, and exhilarated, his heart bounced as if he’d jumped off the cliff headfirst, did a three-sixty and dived in the breakers. No woman had ever accepted his limitations.

The memory replayed itself, as it always did when he stood at this spot, looking across at the beach below. He could see Jocelyn as if it were yesterday.

“Promise me you’ll be happy,” Jocelyn had said while she splashed in the waves.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. If God wills it, I’ll die first.” He picked up a sand dollar and gave it to her. “I could never live without you.”

She tossed it into the air. “You wish me to suffer without you? What kind of love is that?”

Heads, he’d go first. Tails, he didn’t want to think about. The sand dollar flipped and arced. Jocelyn stood on her tippy toes and pulled him down for a kiss. “I want you to be happy.”

The sand dollar had landed upside down.

* * *

Jen pulled Dave closer. His tongue swept her mouth. Oh, God, she’d already fallen in love, and he’d just told her he couldn’t return it. But he hadn’t pushed her away. She’d take what she could get. To hell with being careful. If he was going to hurt her, she might as well enjoy every delicious moment. The way his head bobbed while picking and strumming his guitar, the too-long hair that curled around her fingertips, and the scent of his aftershave pulled her toward him like the powerful tide crashing on the rocks below.

She opened her eyes and brushed a tear off his cheek. Had she made him cry? Poor guy. She lingered and kissed him more gently, her breath whispering reassurance. She’d never be jealous of Jocelyn. Jen had been the new kid in third grade, chubby and withdrawn. Jocelyn shared her Cheetos and made her laugh. When the other kids called her names, Jocelyn told them to stop and said she was her friend, not to worry. And Jen never worried until the day she lost Abby. Shame engulfed her. Jocelyn would hate her, maybe already did, if she knew.

“What’s wrong? You’re crying.” Dave kissed her cheek.

“You were too. Were you thinking of her?”

“Yes, no, I mean…” he stuttered.

“It’s okay. Tell me what you were thinking.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Let me determine that.”

He shook his head. “This whole thing isn’t fair to you. I don’t know what to do.”

“Tell me what you were thinking and if you don’t like the way I react, then we end it here.”

He pulled her down to the bench and told her about calling the sand dollar wrong.

“She wanted you to be happy,” Jen said.

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have called it. What made me do something so stupid?”

She caressed his temple and dragged her fingers through his hair. “You didn’t cause her death.”

“I should have been there for her.” Tears streamed down his face. “I’ve never really talked about what happened. It’s like if I pretend it never happened, maybe I can imagine it didn’t.”

“Oh, Dave.” Jen stroked the back of his neck. “Talk about it to me. I’ll listen. After my mother died, my best friend wouldn’t let me clam up. She’d call me and force me to talk, to accept what happened and to live with it, to always remember that Mami would want me to be happy and that she’d be sad if I wallowed in grief.”

He pulled out of her embrace and stared across the seawall. “You’re right. If I hadn’t been so distraught, I would have hired a better nanny. Instead, I entrusted my daughter to a careless teenager. You don’t know the details, but she left the keys in the door and then fell asleep on the job.”

Jen froze, her hand still in mid-air. The raw anger in his voice shafted a shot of dread through her heart.

“Left the keys in the door?” she whispered, still unable to believe she had done that. Jen always hung her keys on the hook. It was a habit her mother ingrained into her. But yet, the keys had been in the lock. She saw them when the police arrived. They had glared at her as if she was an idiot, dusted it for prints and found none but hers.

Dave pushed his fists into his pockets. “Everything’s her fault. Everything.”