Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Bayou Sweetheart\The Firefighter's New Family\Season of Redemption (16 page)

“But your cancer is back and so that means you've put everything on hold? You've put us on hold?”

“Yes. I need my strength to fight this monster, so don't make me fight you, too.”

“I never wanted to fight,” he said, leaning close. “I only wanted to be with you.”

“Even like this?” she asked. “Have you thought about that? I mean, really thought about it?”

“I've thought of nothing else since the night I kissed you,” he said, anger coloring his words. “Were you testing me that night?”

Confusion blushed across her face. “Testing you? For what?”

“If you'd already been to the doctor and if you even suspected what he'd discovered, you could have told me your fears. Why didn't you, Callie?”

The look in her eyes tore at him like rose thorns. “Isn't it obvious? I didn't know for sure that night that my cancer was back, but no matter what, I wanted one night where I could enjoy being with you. If I'd told you my concern then, we wouldn't have...”

“We wouldn't have kissed each other,” he finished. “But I would have known. I could have helped you, comforted you.”

“You can't fix this, Tomas. No one can.”

“I'd do anything for you.”

She gave him a bittersweet smile. “Even you, with all your money and power, can't fix this.”

“I'd do anything for you,” he repeated. “Are you listening to me?”

“I hear you,” she said. “And I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you. But I didn't know myself. I was waiting to talk to my doctor the next morning. I just needed...a few more hours of normal. And I wanted to spend that time with you.”

He accepted that explanation. But Tomas wanted more. And he wanted answers. “And now that you know what you're facing, why can't you still spend time with me? Why does that have to change?”

She shook her head. “I have to spend every minute of my spare time trying to get well, Tomas. I'm sorry but I won't allow you to go through that, and nothing you say is going to change my mind.”

“Is that final?” he asked.

She looked away. “Yes.”

Chapter Sixteen

“W
alk me home?”

Tomas nodded and waved to Alma and Winnie. “Of course.”

“Let's go the back way,” she suggested when they were out on the sidewalk. “Along the bayou.”

“Okay.” Tomas wanted nothing more than to humor her and help her, but his impatient nature wanted to grab her and kiss her and tell her to stop being so stubborn.

They might be wasting precious time.

But he strolled with her to the tiny park on the next block and took a left toward the Little Fleur Bayou. “I'm finally beginning to know all the waterways around here.”

Her smile broke through the solemn look on her face. “It is confusing. But you said you used to live around here. Surely you remember all the bayous.”

“We lived away from the water,” he explained. “But back in the woods.”

They turned back toward the bayou. Tomas focused on the crape myrtle blossoms and the sweet scents coming from the wisteria vines caught up in the old oak trees and magnolias.

“It's like one continuing garden back here.”

Callie lifted her head to take in the fragrance in the air. “Yes. Don't you love it? I've been working on this little area for most of my life.”

Tomas loved seeing her so content, the sun on her face, her hair tumbling out of her haphazard ponytail. She looked pale, but she also looked serene. “It shows.”

When she opened her eyes and saw him looking at her, she shifted away and straightened her shoulders. “I've planted a lot of the flower beds along this path. “Iron weed and paperwhites, daylilies and rosemary, sweet olive and azaleas, and gardenias. I love the scent of fresh-blooming gardenias.”

“I can see your hand on all of this,” he said. “You are an asset to this town.”

“I love this town.”

They were almost to her front porch. Tomas stalled, held back. “Callie, we didn't finish our talk.”

“I know.” She motioned to the porch. “Let's sit here in the shade.”

He followed her up the front steps and took a seat on an old bench, leaving her to sit in the white wooden swing. He knew her well enough to give her some space, at least.

Callie settled in the swing and pushed off with one booted foot. “We can't be together, Tomas. We can't be an item. We can't be anything.”

“Why not?”

She pointed to herself, a finger tapping her neck. “You know why. I'm sick again. Really sick. There are no predictions with this disease. We wait and we pray. I won't put you through that again.”

He leaned forward, his eyes holding her. “You mean because of how my wife died?” He inhaled, thinking of his words to her on that Sunday in her papa's backyard. Realizing how what he'd said then might sound to her, he asked, “Why don't you let me decide that for myself?”

“It's my choice, my decision,” she replied with a stubborn slant of her chin. “You don't need to decide.”

Tomas wasn't used to being told he didn't have a choice. “So I have no say in this? I have to wait in the wings and hope you'll be okay? How does that make this better for either of us?”

She pushed at the swing, her eyes bright with doubt and anger. “It doesn't make anything better, but...we need to end things before we start them. You don't want to be a part of this, Tomas. You don't have any obligations here. I've seen what cancer does to a person.”

He got up and stopped the swing with a hand. “Yes, and you've seen what it does to those who care about a person. So you think you've got it all figured out, right? You think that no man can handle breast cancer, right? That I can't handle this because of the way I felt watching my wife die?”

She looked both forlorn and formidable. “Yes.”

“What about your father, Callie? He stayed with your mother. He never gave up and even today, he still respects her and loves her.”

“And mourns her,” Callie replied on a soft note. “Every day, Tomas. He mourns her.”

Tomas sank down in front of the now-still swing, his hand holding tight to one of the weathered chains. “I don't plan on mourning you, if that's what you're worried about. I plan to see you alive and well...and with me. In my arms again, Callie. Do you understand?”

She shook her head. “
You
need to understand
me.
I can't do this. I can't hope that we can work this out. I don't have the answers. I can only tell you that I've been through this with another man and it didn't end well. I...I've come too far on my own to let that happen again. Especially with you.”

Tomas stood, shock jolting through his entire body. “So you'll go through this alone, just to prove you can do it?”

“Yes.” She stood, too. “I will get through this on my own. I can't hope for things I can't be sure of. I won't depend on...on you. I won't force you to stand by me. I'd rather do this my way, on my own, than to see you walk away.”

“You're too stubborn,” he said, for want of a better reasoning with her.

“You're too pushy.”

He stared down at her, fire coursing through his veins. “I'll keep pushing, you can count on that.”

She touched a hand to his arm. “I appreciate your concern and I'm thankful to know you, but...you don't have to prove yourself to me. I know you're a good man, Tomas.”

“But not good enough to help you through this, right?”

“It's not you—”

“Don't say it. Don't tell me that it's all because of you and this noble idea that
you
have to prove something. I won't hear of that.”

“Then we won't ever agree on anything.”

“I suppose not,” he said, turning to leave. Then because he was so aggravated and agitated, he pivoted around and pulled her into his arms and kissed her. When he lifted his head, he was rewarded with her gasp of surprise. But he saw the longing in her eyes, too.

He touched a finger to her cheekbone. “We can agree on that, at least.”

He left before he got up the nerve to kidnap her and take her home with him forever.

* * *

Two weeks later, Callie knew she'd made the right decision. She had to keep Tomas away from the brutal reality of sickness and treatments and pain and agony. She was losing her hair now.

“I shouldn't be so vain,” she told Alma while they both cried. “You have to help me shave my head.”

Alma nodded, too choked up to speak. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “We can have a shaving party.”

“A what?”

“You know, invite people over, have cupcakes, laugh a little, cry a little. Clip and shave a little.”

Callie grinned then sniffed. “I like that idea. But you don't have to go all noble and shave your head, too.”

“Okay, I won't,” Alma said. “But I want to support you in every way. What else can I do?”

“You're doing it,” Callie replied. “You're here.”

“Brenna will want to come to the shaving party,” Alma said. “I'll call her. When do you want to hold this fancy party?”

Callie pulled at the broken strands of hair. “Soon.”

“This weekend maybe?”

“Yes, Saturday?”

Alma nodded then said, “Oh, wait. That's the open house and picnic at Fleur House. We could do it Friday night.”

“He's planned that already?” Callie asked, hurt that she hadn't heard more. But lately, she'd avoided the paper and the gossips mills, so she
wouldn't
hear more about Tomas.

That's what you wanted,
she reminded herself. She'd chastised herself for even going out to see him in the vegetable patch. Her impulsive need to explain things to him that day had only made her want to be with him even more.

But that couldn't happen, especially now.

“Well, yes, he grudgingly planned the picnic,” Alma said, her tone almost reproachful. “Spring's almost gone and summer is coming. Soon it'll be too hot to stroll around outside for hours and hours.”

“I was supposed to help him plan that.”

“We know. But you said—”

“I said I couldn't be a part of it, I remember.”

“Brenna did most of the planning. And Aunt Serena, too. Papa has enjoyed seeing more of her.”

Papa and Aunt Serena had visited her, and Nick's aunt had brought her a beautiful basket of all sorts of goodies—lotions, candy, books, candles and a beautiful colorful lap blanket.

“I'm missing out on everything,” Callie said on a whine.

Alma came to stand by Callie and stared her down in the mirror. “It doesn't have to be this way, you know. The man is willing to do anything for you. I think he only agreed to the picnic because he's hoping you'll come.”

“That's exactly why I can't let him get under my skin. He'd try to fix this and he can't.”

“But you could spend time with him. He'd make you laugh, nurture you, watch over you. He's willing to do that for you, Callie.”

Callie thought about that and wondered if her sisters were tiring of always being there to help her. “Do you need a break?”

“Of course not,” Alma said, her expression full of hurt. “How can you even say that? We all—and I mean
all
—Winnie, Mollie, the whole gang, Papa and the church ladies...we all want to help. Tomas is a part of that, or at least he'd like to be.”

“But it's not as easy with him. I love each of you for helping but...I'm in love with him and I won't force him to do his duty out of sympathy. When I'm well—”

Alma's doubtful look shocked Callie. “You don't think I'll ever be well?”

“I'm praying for that every day,” Alma replied. “I just wish you'd take advantage of the here and now, because we never know for sure about tomorrow.”

Callie had heard that platitude one time too many lately. “As if I don't know that. I appreciate your advice, but...I just can't do it. I won't force the man to...feel pity for me.”

“I don't think he feels pity,” Alma replied. “I think he's in love with you, too.”

Callie pulled at her hair and held up a wad in her hands. “This, Alma. This is why I can't allow Tomas back into my life. He shouldn't have to deal with this.”

Alma looked skeptical but nodded. “Okay, I understand. But...you can at least go to the picnic and see the fruits of your labor. The gardens at Fleur House are first-class. Everyone's so excited about being able to see things up close. Think about it, honey. It would do you a world of good.”

“I'll consider going,” Callie promised. “I'd have to wear a mask to avoid catching anything. My doctor told me to be more careful about that. Being outside and with that many people.” She shrugged, picturing herself in a scarf and a paper mask. Not a pretty sight. “It depends on how I feel that day.”

But after Alma left, Callie stood there looking at her reflection and she knew in her heart that she wouldn't be at the picnic with Tomas.

She'd be just fine right here inside her little cottage.

* * *

Tomas went about his business. He held meetings at the shipyard and worked to keep as many people as possible on the payroll. His whole agenda had shifted and changed. The massive layoffs he'd planned had been turned to a few early retirements with severance packages and the promise of rehiring people soon.

He couldn't do all the things he'd planned to do.

Because he knew Callie wouldn't approve of that. She'd somehow changed him from the first moment he'd met her.

But she wouldn't let him love her. Not yet. Not now.

But soon,
he thought.
Soon, Callie. Somehow.

Today was the Fleur House grand opening and picnic in the gardens. He planned to ask for a love offering to help Callie.

But he knew she wouldn't be here.

She who'd made these gardens beautiful again.

He wouldn't force her to come. He'd try a new tactic. He'd pray that she'd come. And he'd continue to pray to the God he'd scorned and shunned, to please spare her life.

As the day wore on and more and more people showed up to see his home, Tomas realized the people of Fleur had given him the best gift possible. They had accepted him as one of them, in spite of his initial reasons for coming to town, in spite of his bitter need for revenge on the family that had shunned him.

By the end of the day, he felt humbled and refreshed, less regretful and more hopeful. Everyone had seen his home, shared his food, played games on his fresh, new lawn and admired the gardens and landscaping that Callie had created out of weeds and shrubs and hard dirt.

But no sign of Callie. She wasn't going to make it today. She would probably never set foot at Fleur House again.

Tomas stood in the gazebo, waving goodbye as the crowd began to thin. When he saw Ramon Blanchard coming toward him, he stepped out and greeted him with a wave. “Hello there.”

“Hello,” Mr. Blanchard replied. “I need to talk to you.” He glanced around. “Just you and me.”

“Of course,” Tomas said, wondering what he'd done. Mr. Blanchard looked so serious. Then Tomas's heart did a little jolt. Was this something about Callie?

“I have to get something outta my car,” Mr. Blanchard said.

“All right. I'll be in the upstairs sunroom,” Tomas replied. “It's quiet and private up there.” And it made him feel closer to Callie.

He waited, every nerve in his body tingling with doubt and dread, until Ramon Blanchard came up the stairs and entered the coolness of the big oval-shaped sunroom.

He was carrying a flat square package wrapped in brown paper.

“What do you have there?” Tomas asked, motioning for the older man to have a seat.

Ramon sat down and stared out into the gloaming. “I'm a proud man,” he began, “so dis is very hard for me.”

“What is it?” Tomas asked, impatience to know pushing at him. Concern tearing at him.