Lost & Found Love (14 page)

A knock sounded softly at Joe’s door.

“Come on in,” he called, the grin still firmly in place.

John Gatewood entered, his expression somber. “Got a minute, Joe?”

He stood and waved the older man to the chair in front of his desk. “Always. How can I help you, John?”

Gatewood sat, pursed his lips a moment, then blew out a heavy breath. “You know what a fine job we all think you’re doing.”

Joe sat back down and leaned back a bit in his chair. “But? Because I sense you’re here for more than just handing me a compliment, wonderful though it is.”

Gatewood rested his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together. “There’s talk, Joe. About you and the new art teacher. Some of it doesn’t reflect well on either you or her.”

“So, are you here simply to let me know as a friend, or are you here as a representative of the church council?”

“A bit of both. I have to ask. Are you in a relationship with Miss MacVie?”

“It’s still early, but yes.”

“Serious?”

“Yes.”

Gatewood leaned back, now resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. “It’s a small town, Pastor. A small town in a conservative community. For your sake, and especially for her sake, you need to legitimize it and be very circumspect in your behavior.”

Joe pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Has there been a complaint?”

“Talk only, at least about you. But I’ll tell you right up front, I don’t think Miss MacVie has many friends among her colleagues.”

“And I think that’s a lot of unfounded jealousy,” Joe responded, tamping down the resentment taking root. This was because of who he was, not because of who she was. “Tabby is a gentle, beautiful woman who had the misfortune of moving in next door to me. You know as well as me, John, that every time I turn around, someone’s trying to hook me up with a wife.”

“Human nature.”

“It might be, but when I marry, it’s going to be a woman of my choosing, not simply someone to run the ladies Bible study or the church bake sales.”

John Gatewood stood, hitching up the khaki pants he wore, then smoothing a hand over his balding head. “I don’t disagree with you. All I’m saying is be careful so this doesn’t get out of hand.”

Joe came around his desk. They shook hands. “I appreciate you coming by. I’ll do what I can.”

Tabby felt the heat and intensity of Joe’s gaze every time she moved around her kitchen Saturday night. She had decided to give him a sampling of how she normally ate, cooking Portobello mushrooms that she had grilled, then stuffed with a cheese and herb mixture, served with wild rice and grilled marinated veggies. He’d watched her the entire time, his eyes following her movements as they talked. Rather than making her paranoid, his attention made her feel wanted. Whenever she came within reach of him, he would snag her hand or her shoulder and pull her in for a quick, soft kiss.

Tabby smiled, overjoyed at being able to put her job from her mind while she basked in Joseph’s attention.

“What did you think of the mushrooms?” she asked as they sat on the floor in the living room, their empty plates on the coffee table.

“Dinner was delicious, Tabby. I’m surprised. I didn’t think I would end up feeling so full without the usual meat on the plate.”

She grinned at him. “Dessert’s a little more traditional. I made apple pie.”

He rolled her underneath him and pinned her to the floor, the press of his hips against her belly not doing a thing to hide his desire for her.

“That’s it,” he growled with mock ferociousness. “I’m not releasing you until you agree to marry me.”

She stilled and stared at him, his words like a dash of cold water, slapping her with bitter memories from her past. She didn’t want that immediate feeling of being trapped. “Don’t, Joseph. Don’t tease about something like that.”

His blue eyes searched her face. “I’m not teasing, Tabby. I want to marry you. I love you. You know that. I love you so much.”

Panic squeezed her chest. She didn’t want to feel that, not with Joseph, but it was there. “I haven’t even agreed to date you. Marriage is a big leap.”

He touched her cheek, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Tabby, we’ve already made love with each other. I think we’ve already taken a big step beyond just dating. I told you I love you. You said the same. Taking this to the next step is logical. Do you doubt my feelings…or not return them?”

Logical? She didn’t feel logical. “I do love you.”

He rolled away from her. “Then what is it?”

Tabby sat up and hugged her knees. “There’s… There’s more to marriage than love. You know that. Especially for you. You’re a minister. You need someone who can be a helper.”

His brows drew together in a frown. “I need a wife and lover, not an assistant pastor.”

“It’s not that simple,” she protested. The last thing Tabby wanted was for him to make a commitment to her that would drag down his career. “And I haven’t exactly had the best examples of what marriage is. Tommy beat my mother and me.”

“You think I would do that to you?” Joe demanded. Now there was a hard edge to his voice she had never heard before. The patient, understanding man he’d always presented to her was suddenly stern, his blue eyes frosty.

“No.” Tabby leaped to her feet and began pacing. “Never. You would never do that. I just… I lived under his thumb for so long, and I’ve had to fight so hard to be independent. I-I don’t know that I can be a marriage partner. I don’t know that I can be a wife.”

Joe started to reach toward her, then dropped his hand and shook his head. He raked a hand through his tawny hair. The light was gone from his eyes.

“You’re right. If you can’t trust me not to crush your spirit, then we’re not ready for marriage.” He stood up, staring down at her in frustration. “Maybe we need to slow things down a bit. I would never expect you to take on a role in the church as my wife. It’s true, people do have expectations of me, but those are their expectations, not mine. But you need to be able to believe that, and right now, you can’t trust in that, can you?”

Automatically, she started to deny it, but closed her mouth and didn’t say anything. Everything in her past experience told her there would be demands, and that ultimately, she would let him and everyone else down. That was one thing she couldn’t bear.

“I should go home,” Joseph finally said when she still didn’t speak. “I’m not giving up on you or us, but maybe we need a little time and space to think.”

With that said, he turned on his heel and left, the door shutting quietly behind him.

Tabby stared after him, tears welling but not falling. She’d glimpsed something with him that was so amazing, but how could it ever be? The pastor and the psycho painter? Joe might accept her. He might say he had no expectations of her, but other people would. Tabby shuddered.

* * * *

Joe tossed and turned all night, berating himself for rushing her, then walking out. They had known each other for less than a month. What had he been thinking to rush her and himself? He’d let his desire cloud his logic. Gatewood had pointed it out to him, and somehow he doubted he’d heard the last of that conversation.

He paced the floor in his room as he thought, but thinking was difficult when he knew Tabby was right next door. He was due a vacation. Maybe it was running away, but he was going to take that week now. He needed some space to clear his head. He’d drive to a friend’s place in Tennessee and go trout fishing. Some quiet time away from everyone might give him a chance to think. It would give Tabby room as well.

Maybe it was circumstances, but they’d both rushed together without knowing much about each other. He’d known of her fears about organized religion, but he’d chosen to ignore them and the role his religion played in his life in his headlong desire for her. And he had shared virtually nothing of his own past with her. Nothing that would help her understand why what he did was so important to him.

Joe started to knock on her door the following morning before heading over to the church, but her bike was already gone. He needed her trust, and he knew that was something he didn’t have right now. Joe rubbed his chest. Lord that hurt. For the first time in a long while, he had to use his notes to deliver his sermon.

He could almost swear when he told the worship committee that he wished to take a week’s vacation there was relief on the faces of the men across the table from him. He narrowed his eyes and looked at each committee member.

“Was there something you wished to discuss?” he inquired.

“No,” John Gatewood said, not quite able to hide the relief in his smile as he glanced down the table to Dennis Underwood, who also shook his head. “No. You’re right, Pastor. This is a slow time in the church calendar, so now would be a great time for a vacation.”

Joe smiled tightly at them and stood. “If you’ll excuse me then, I’ll put a call in to see if I can get a visiting minister to preach next Sunday. We’ll cancel tonight’s services. I’d like to get on the road.”

“Excellent idea, Pastor,” Underwood said heartily. Joe studied Underwood for a long moment, but then shook his head and left.

He wanted to say something to Tabby, let her know he was leaving town to give them both some space, but when he walked back to the house, her bicycle was still missing. He took the stairs two at a time, shoved a few changes of clothes into a duffel bag, slipped his feet into his running shoes, and tossed everything into the back of the Mustang.

He checked Tabby’s house one more time, but saw only Katie dozing on the porch railing in the afternoon sun. Joe sat down on the steps, knowing she was sometimes gone for a couple of hours, but when another hour passed and she still hadn’t returned, he stood up with a sigh. He scribbled a note but ripped it up. Handling this wasn’t something that needed to be done in a note or a text. It needed the back and forth of a true conversation. They would find a way to work it out, but right now space was what they needed. His lips tightened briefly, and with a shake of his head, he got into the car and drove off.

* * * *

Tabby had heard Joseph singing as she pedaled past the red brick Baptist church that morning. She had left early, deliberately trying to avoid him, and had stopped in at Mercer’s for some oatmeal before continuing. Now, as she rode out of town, the singing floated on the breeze. Even with the voices of the entire congregation joining in, she picked out his clear tenor as she passed the open doorway.

Her stomach knotted. She hadn’t liked how things ended last night, but she didn’t know how to approach him, how to make him understand. It wasn’t him. It was her. And that sounded so cliché, yet it was the truth. He was wonderful, patient, and loving. Her own fears were what stood between them now.

Making love with Joseph had been incredibly beautiful. Just thinking about it now made her glad the morning breeze was cool on her heated skin as she pedaled. The wonder in Joseph’s eyes made her feel, for the first time in her life, as if she were someone worthy of being loved. It might have been her first time, Joseph’s, too, but it hadn’t felt awkward. It had felt pre-ordained—right up until he’d mentioned marrying her.

Marriage was the next step for him, and probably should have been the first, but Tabby couldn’t make that leap. She swallowed nervously, her breathing tight. Images of Tommy and how he’d controlled both her mother and her superimposed themselves. The logical part of her brain knew Joseph would never do that, but this wasn’t logical. It was a gut level emotional response she couldn’t control.

At first, she’d been concerned because he was a minister, and she still wasn’t convinced it would be as simple as Joseph seemed to believe, but the real source of her concern was the issue of control. She could never allow another person to confine and command her the way her father had. Tabby had sworn never to give anyone that much power over her.

But she also knew living together wasn’t an option. He was probably already in trouble, for all they knew.

With the need to get away for a while driving her, Tabby pedaled toward Stoner Richardson’s place. Today she had brought her sketchpad and pencils in her backpack. She would sketch his house and take it to him as a gift for his help. It would be a nice thank you, and it would help keep her mind off Joe and the sudden snag their relationship had hit. When she thought of Stoner, his tall spare frame and his lean face, it filled her with an odd sense of comfort and security. Maybe that was foolish given the electronic tracker he wore, but Stoner had been nothing but helpful after she’d fallen off her bike. Today, she could use a little comfort.

Tabby found a spot across the road and settled on a large rock. She lightly created her perspective lines first, did a rough outline of her composition, and began drawing and shading her final sketch. After adding a few last finishing touches, she grinned, rolled up the completed drawing, and slid it into a protective tube before putting her sketchpad back into her pack.

The Richardson driveway was too steep to ride up, so she pushed the bike to the top. After leaning it against the hitching post next to the walkway, Tabby knocked on the heavy front door. Her eyes widened when an older gentleman answered.

“May I help you, miss?” he inquired in a distinctly British accent as his eyes raked her from head to foot dismissively.

Tabby blinked. A
butler
? “I-I’m looking for Mr. Richardson. Stoner…Richardson.”

The butler gave an audible sniff as he eyed her attire, and Tabby hurriedly pulled her backpack in front of her.

“Who shall I tell the senator is calling?”

Senator?
“Uh. Tabby. I mean Tabitha MacVie.”

He waved her to a straight-backed wooden chair that sat in the front hallway. “Wait here, please, Miss MacVie.”

He marched away. Tabby swallowed as she looked around the ornate front hallway with its crystal chandelier and wide, curving staircase. She felt like the hick cousin who’d wandered into a pasha’s palace. Was the floor actually polished marble? What was she doing here?