Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Bayou Sweetheart\The Firefighter's New Family\Season of Redemption (14 page)

Relief washed over him. There was still a chance. “I understand. Neither do I.”

She lifted her head at that statement. “But...you loved your wife. You were devoted to her until the end.”

He nodded, closed his eyes to the memories. “Yes, I stayed with her until the end. But...I have a confession to make.”

“What's that?”

“I didn't love her the way I should have.”

Callie opened her hands and held tightly to the arms of her chair. “But...you told me you stayed with her. You tried to help her.”

“I did,” he said, getting up. “We got married very young and...we loved each other, but things started changing after we'd been together a few years. She couldn't have children and she became bitter and distant.” He turned from the water and looked down at Callie. “This was during my start-up years so I worked a lot of long hours. She became more and more depressed and before I knew it, she had become dependent on prescription drugs.”

Callie stood and came to his side. “Did you stop loving her after you realized she was addicted?”

He shook his head. “I don't think I ever truly loved her, not in the way I should have. I tolerated her because I was infatuated with her. She was beautiful—dark hair and eyes. But she'd always had this sad, somber disposition. It matched my own. In the end, we became toxic to each other. The love was gone from our marriage long before she died.”

Callie put a hand to her mouth. “That's what you tried to tell me over and over. You stayed with a woman you didn't love, out of duty and a sense of obligation?”

He lifted his head and looked into Callie's eyes. “Yes, I did. I owed her that much at least.”

“Yes, yes, you did,” Callie said. But he saw the shift in her, saw the fear returning to her eyes. “That must have been so hard on both of you.”

“The hardest thing I've ever done.” He twisted away to focus on the distant shore. “I couldn't abandon her.”

The bayou ran a greenish-black, a soft gurgling that took it toward the big bay. A splash down the way and the sound of ducks quacking broke the silence that had fallen between them.

“I don't want to live like that again.” He turned to face Callie, but she had sunk back down onto her chair. She looked pale, so pale. “Callie, are you all right?”

“Yes. I'm fine. I...I think I just need to go home and get some rest.”

“I'll drive you.”

“No, no. I have my car.” She got up, held to the table. “You go on, please.”

“But—”

Her eyes told him to leave. “Tomas, we're good friends and I appreciate you worrying about me. But...we can't take this any further. I'm not ready to do that. If you need me for anything, for the gardens and the landscaping, just call.”

Anger and doubt robbed him of his sense. “And you'll send someone out to fix things?”

Guilt colored her face. “Yes. Or if I'm not busy, I'll be there myself.”

“Right. Thanks for lunch.” He turned to walk back up toward the house, his heart sputtering and grinding.

Why had he told her the truth? He'd come here to find out what was wrong with her and instead, he'd poured out more of his secrets to her. And by doing so, he'd managed to push her even further away. What would she think if he told her all of his secrets?

They could never be friends. Because he wanted more. And he'd thought by opening up to her he'd be able to help her get past her obvious doubts. But the whole conversation had taken a bad turn. Was she disgusted with him for his inability to be a good husband?

He wanted her to understand that he had fallen for her.

And he knew in his heart that she had feelings for him, too. What he couldn't figure out was why she'd suddenly decided to deny those feelings.

Chapter Fourteen

“H
e doesn't want to go through that again.”

After making that declaration, Callie stared up at Alma. Two days after Tomas had told her his deepest fear, she still couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth.

Alma's sympathetic gaze turned to understanding. “So if you tell him about your cancer now, you think he'll feel obligated, the same way he did with his wife?”

“Yes.” Callie shrugged. “Even though all of this is new to us—the feelings we have for each other—we can't take things any further. It would be hard for both of us.”

They were at the Fleur Café, waiting to have lunch with Brenna. She and Nick were home from their brief stop in San Antonio to see Nick's parents and now her sisters wanted details from the honeymoon. She'd promised pictures, too.

Callie had to tell Brenna about her diagnosis. Alma was there for support. “I won't go through that again, either,” Callie said now, her voice low. “I still remember Dewayne's eyes when...when he realized my body had changed after surgery. He looked confused and disgusted, but underneath all of that, he was terrified. He gave up. He gave up on me and our marriage. I'm only beginning to know Tomas, and I do have feelings for him, but...it's too early in our relationship to dump all of this on him. If he can be a friend, that's great. Nothing more right now.”

Alma tapped her unadorned fingernails on the table. “But you don't know how he'll react, Cal. He might surprise you.”

“No, he'll do exactly what he told me he did with his wife. He'll stay. He'll feel obligated to...pretend he cares. I can handle friendship, but not pity or duty. I'll get through this and then we'll see.”

The door opened and in breezed Brenna, her hair caught up in an antique clip and her smile beaming. Callie envied the happy glow on her sister's face.
“Bonjour,”
Brenna called, smiling and laughing as she waved to everyone with a just-arrived-from-Paris attitude.

Callie and Alma both hopped up to hug her. “We missed you,” Callie said, holding back tears.

“Sure did,” Alma added. “You look great. You look—”

“In love,” Callie finished, a shard of longing piercing her heart. “Now sit down and tell us everything.”

Brenna snuggled into the booth and took a breath. “Well...”

She stopped, her eyes on Callie. “What's wrong?”

Callie gave Alma a pleading glance. “Nothing. Keep talking. Where are the pictures?”

“On my iPad,” Brenna said, her chin jutting out. “What's wrong?”

Alma nodded to Callie. “We want to hear about you first.”

Brenna sat back, a stubborn glint in her eyes. “What is wrong? Is it Papa? The café? Alma, is the baby okay? Oh, did something happen at the nursery? Wait, it's about Fleur House, right? Was Tomas rude to you?”

Alma glanced at Callie. “The baby is fine. We're all fine.”

Callie grabbed her sister's hand. “Tomas was a perfect gentleman, honey. I've finished there and he approved my landscaping.”

Brenna's brows lifted. “And?”

“And nothing. It's not about him.”

Brenna looked skeptical. “But...you and he...didn't hit it off?”

“We're friends,” Callie said, trying to practice the standard line. “Just friends.”

Brenna looked disappointed. “Is that all? Is there something else?” She stopped again, a hand going to her mouth. “Your checkup. I told Nick it was almost time for your five-year checkup.” She grabbed Callie's hand. “You're okay, right? Callie?”

Callie shook her head, dread bearing down on her like a heavy weight. “No, honey. But I will be. Soon.”

* * *

Spring moved through Tomas's garden like a floral blanket unfolding over a bed. The vibrant colors and perfumed scents made a dramatic backdrop for the newly renovated mansion.

The big, lonely, newly renovated mansion.

He missed the sound of Elvis barking out by the bayou, missed Callie's laughter floating over the trees. He even missed the rowdy youth group and their ability to tune out the world with earplugs and a little player full of music.

Tomas wished he could drown out the world. Or at least get Callie out of his head. He wanted to call her so he could hear her voice. But he refrained from that. He'd discovered the only way he could see her was at church.

A safe haven.

So he went to church to be near Callie and in the process, he actually began to listen to Reverend Guidry's sermons. He also listened to the chatter of church ladies and learned a lot about this community from asking questions of the old-timers. The initial resentment they'd shown toward him was gradually fading, to be replaced with a grudging respect.

And he was beginning to hold a grudging admiration for this little town.

Which only added to his woes. When he started making the cuts at the shipyard, that attitude could change. But for now, he could hold off on that awhile longer. After talking with some of the employees, he'd been to the shipyard and watched them work, had met with them to come up with solutions. His original plan of taking over and stripping down the once-vital, vibrant industry had now shifted. He'd consider all suggestions, but he still needed to stick to his agenda.

But tonight, he'd forget about work for a while.

Tonight was Wednesday devotional and potluck at the church. Good fellowship and good food, as Reverend Guidry had put it.

“Son, when you got those two things in life, you are indeed a rich man.”

Tomas had believed he was already a rich man. But the jolly minister had a point. What good was being wealthy when you didn't have food and fellowship with other human beings?

Or with the woman you wanted to have food and fellowship with? The woman you wanted to spend more time with?

So he turned from the balcony and straightened his casual button-down blue shirt, then headed downstairs. He was going to find the kind of nourishment that seemed to ease the pain of being alone.

Margie and Eunice were waiting at the portico to the garage.

At the sound of Tomas's footsteps, they both turned.

“Hey,” he said, determined to keep walking.

“Where you headed?” Eunice asked, grinning.

“Same place as you,” Tomas replied.

“We're waiting for Bob to get the car. Want a ride?”

“No. I'm taking my car.”

He heard feminine whispering behind him.

They still held out hope that Callie would come around.

He wanted to hold out hope, but he was beginning to think that maybe God had other plans for him. And here he'd thought he planned things for himself all the time.

His plan for tonight consisted of being in the same room with Callie. But when he got to the church, he couldn't find her. Alma walked by, her head down, carrying a platter of fried chicken.

“Hello?” Tomas hurried to help her. “Let me.”

“Thanks,” Alma replied after he'd taken the serving pan. “This isn't that heavy, but Julien watches me like a hawk.” She patted her growing tummy. “I'm a lot stronger than I look.”

“I can believe that.” He waited, looked around.

“She's not here,” Alma replied, her expression sympathetic.

“Oh, okay. Night off?”

“She...uh...had some work to do at home.”

Tomas shrugged. “I just wanted to say hello.”

“I'll tell her.”

He sensed Alma wanted to say more, but she turned and hurried away.

Over the next hour, Tomas ate his food without tasting it and tried to focus on the devotion lesson that centered on Easter. When he bumped into Nick at the dessert table, he glanced around again. “Where's Brenna?”

“With Callie.” Nick's expression changed. “I mean, I think she's with Callie.”

“What are those two up to?”

“Who knows? You know women. Probably looking at our honeymoon pictures.” After a little small talk, Nick hurried away.

Tomas wondered if he had the plague. Seemed the entire Blanchard clan and spouses were steering clear of him.

Was Callie's family avoiding him because she couldn't take things any further with him? Or were they still upset about him taking over the shipyard?

Reverend Guidry came to sit beside Tomas. “All alone tonight?”

“You noticed?” Tomas held up his tea glass. “Just me and the other bachelors.” He motioned to the two senior men sitting down the way. They both looked to be in their eighties.

Reverend Guidry laughed. “Give it time, Tomas. You're young and free.”

“Free.” Tomas glanced over at the preacher. “Free.”

“Yep, that's what I said.”

“There is something to be said about having your freedom, I guess.” He was remembering what Callie had said to him, about being her own boss, about being free and independent and making her own choices.

Was that why she was afraid to take the next step?

He shot up out of his chair so fast, it grated across the floor and scared one of the older gentleman so much he almost dropped his fork. Tomas excused himself from the table.

He was going to Callie's house.

* * *

“Here's a warm cloth, Callie.”

Callie lifted her head and took the towel Brenna offered her. “Thanks.”

“Can you make it back to bed?”

She nodded, too zapped from throwing up to say anything. Chemo was never kind. She'd hoped this time she'd be able to tolerate it more but apparently being older didn't make her any stronger.

Brenna helped her into bed and pulled the chenille spread up over her. They both knew the chills would come now.

“You don't have to stay,” Callie said, dragging her hand down the soft blue chenille. “Go home to your new husband.”

“I'm staying until Alma gets here,” Brenna replied. “Just rest, okay?” She adjusted the covers again. “Do you want some soup?”

“No.” Callie closed her eyes and prayed the worst was over. But she knew this would get worse before it got better. She touched a hand to her hair. Not yet. Not yet. She dreaded that the most. Losing your hair so your body could get well didn't seem fair. But cancer was never fair.

She let the fatigue take over her body and tried to drift off to sleep so she wouldn't have to think about things to come.

She thought of Tomas and the moonlight she'd seen in his eyes the night he'd held her. What a sweet memory. A memory she could hold and relive over and over. It held her, soothed her and broke her heart all at the same time.

A cool spring wind pulled through the screen of her open bedroom window. Callie pulled the cover close and enjoyed the fresh air she always craved. A knocking sound jolted her out of her sleep. She jumped, but Brenna was right there. “Probably Alma, though for the life of me I can't believe she'd knock. We never knock.”

“True,” Callie whispered. They all had an open-door policy.

So who could be knocking at her door at nine o'clock in the evening?

* * *

Tomas waited for the door to open, prepared to spill his words before Callie shut him out. But Callie didn't open the door. Instead, Brenna stood there, shock and surprise coloring her face.

“Tomas.”

“Hi, Brenna.” He searched the room behind her. “Is Callie here?”

Brenna came out on the porch and closed the door. “She's asleep.”

“This early?” Tomas could tell Brenna was hiding something. She looked as worried and guilty as a kid who'd gotten into mischief. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Fine. She's just tired. Long day at work.”

Tomas didn't believe that. Callie had more energy than anyone he knew. “Okay. Well, will you tell her—”

“Bren?”

He heard the weak call through the open window. “Is that—”

“I'm coming,” Brenna said. She turned back to Tomas, her hand on the open door. “I have to go. I'll tell Callie you stopped by.”

When a crash sounded through the house, Brenna looked panicked. “I have to go, Tomas.”

Tomas went from concerned to let-me-in-now mode. He sprinted past Brenna and headed toward the room where he'd heard the sound.

“Callie? It's Tomas. Are you all right?”

No answer.

He hurried down the hallway and pushed at the partially open door to what he assumed was the master bedroom. “Callie, I'm coming in.”

“No!”

He heard the feeble cry but it was too late. He rushed into the room and found her on the floor, a broken glass that must have held water beside her. The rug was wet.

“Callie?” He lifted her up and checked her for cuts or bruises. Shocked at how pale she looked, he turned to Brenna. “We need to call 911. She's not well.”

Callie rolled her head back and forth. “I'm all right. Just go, please. Brenna?” She tried to sit but seemed too weak.

Tomas went into action, lifting her into his arms so he could get her back to the bed. “Brenna is right here,” he said, trying to comfort her. “You need a doctor.”

Callie opened her eyes and searched the room. “Brenna?”

“I'm here, honey.”

Tomas saw the tears in Brenna's eyes. “What's wrong with her, Brenna?”

She didn't speak. She kept staring at Callie.

“Brenna?” Anger clouded over his fears.

“I'll tell him,” Callie said. “Give us a few minutes.”

“Are you sure?” Brenna asked, her husky whisper hard to hear.

Callie nodded. “Go.”

Her sister left the room but kept the door open.

Tomas turned back to Callie, touched her damp forehead, saw the gray pallor that colored her usually rosy face. “What's wrong with you?” he asked, even though he'd pretty much figured things out. Even while his brain refused to accept what his eyes could see. “Callie?”

She stared up at him with lackluster eyes. “My cancer is back. I...I didn't want you to know.”