The Carpenter's Daughter (23 page)

Cryptic for Jesse. Which meant,
I really shouldn’t have held you the way I held you last night, and once again I want you to know that I’m really not interested in you
.
A good reason for me not to have been replaying that kiss. I wasn’t going to get over it by reliving it. And I wasn’t going to slip into that mess again.

Whoever stood in the hall knocked again.

Grow up, Sarah.
I gripped the handle and tugged. And then forgot everything I’d just reminded myself of when I found his green eyes waiting for me on the other side of that door.

Down I went. Again.

Jesse

Wet hair on an attractive woman…someone ought to explain to the female population what that does to a guy.

Not her fault. I’d come without warning, so how was she supposed to know?

“Hey…” She leaned against the door, which she’d only opened partway.

“Hi.” Staring again. I was always staring at her. I could have the most convincing pep talk before I saw her—which I did before I left my room—and feel confident that I wouldn’t act like an idiot when we were face to face, and then I actually connected with those blue eyes. I was lost.

Her mouth twitched, and then she looked down as if she needed to escape. “I didn’t see you much today.” She cleared her throat. “You okay?”

No. Nowhere in the neighborhood of okay. “Do you want to do something tonight?”

Her head whipped up. Reminded me of when I first asked her to have a burger with me. What had it been, four, five weeks since then? Hadn’t known how complicated this would get.

She searched me, and I couldn’t understand the questions passing through her mind. I probably should leave her alone, but I couldn’t. I was heading south in the morning. Then what? I didn’t know how to define this relationship. We had one more evening, and I wasn’t going to spend it staring at the ceiling of a crappy hotel.

“Come on.” With a hand on the doorframe, I leaned toward her. “Please?”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know.” I stood straight. “We’ll find something fun. Let’s get out of here. Okay?”

She studied me a little longer, and this time I understood the question.
Are we friends, or is this going somewhere else?

Friends. Who couldn’t find their way back from somewhere else. How did I love her up close from a distance? Was that even possible?

I nudged the door, and it gave. With a jerk of my head, I beckoned, and she gave.

“’Kay, but I can’t do another late night.”

No late nights. No hugging. No kissing. Got it—anything else?

With her hand on the door, she began shutting it. In my face. “I have to change. I’ll meet you at your truck.”

“Why?” My eyes took a once-over. Gym shorts, T-shirt, bare feet. “Put on some shoes, and we’re good to go.”

She scowled. What was wrong with that?

“Give me one minute.”

Door shut. I was left standing, still staring.

Did she really think she had to dress up? I remembered the first day I’d run into her—literally. Not high maintenance. That was what drew me.

The door popped open again, with me still standing there scratching my head. There she stood, jeans that hinted at her body shape and a plain white T-shirt cut a little closer to her small frame than the baggy work shirt she’d been wearing.

Still not fussy. But I had to admit, wow. A grin poked at my mouth.

“What?”

Staring. Man, I needed to quit that. “Nothing. That was quick.”

“Huh.” Her mouth twisted in an ornery sort of way. “Didn’t know you’d be hovering. Glad I didn’t decide to do something better with my hair.”

I glanced to those black tresses. Still damp, she’d pinned the front out of her face. Simple. Beautiful.

“Me too.” That didn’t require an explanation, did it? “Let’s go. We’ll find a drive-through and then head to Kearney. I’ve heard they’ve got laser tag.”

Her mouth lifted into an all-out grin. “Laser tag? You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Aha.” I chuckled. “See, I told you we’d have fun.”

We did. I loved that I could eat any kind of garbage my taste buds requested, and not only did Sarah not mind, but she dove in too. By the time we pulled up to The Big Apple—the local fun center—we’d both wolfed down two not-gourmet tacos and had emptied a pound of tots. She didn’t groan about how she’d have to run so many miles to work off those calories or insert that she’d make an exception in her strict diet for me. Hallelujah! A girl who lived.

“So, based on your comment earlier, I assume you’ve played before.” I lifted the harness over my head and clipped the buckles at my waist.

Sarah smirked. “Guess you’ll find out.”

“What if we’re on the same team?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re hoping so.”

Fascinating. Which way should I hope? Same team meant we’d get to work together, concocting strategies together. Opposition…could also be interesting.

The lights on our shoulder straps blipped. Sarah’s were red. I was green.

Interesting could be fun.

Thirty minutes later I followed her back into the equipment area with sweat rolling down my back. Rivulets ran down the sides of her cheeks, and the ends of her short hair were wet.

“Sapphira, you smoked everyone in there.”

She had. I barely racked up half the points she’d accumulated. And her team won all three rounds. Losing to her…still fun. And I loved seeing her come to life. Full of confidence, from the bright glow in her face to the bounce in her step.

She lifted her harness over her head and smiled up at me. Somehow, I forgot how to breathe.
Not a date.
Right. My lungs decided to work again.

I settled my equipment on the proper post and waited for her at the door. She passed through while I held it open. The cool air and bright lights took my senses by storm, and I paused near a table.

“Now what?” Sarah stopped a few steps away, her smile still lifting her lips.

“Bowling?”

“I stink at that.”

“Good.” I brushed her elbow, moving forward. “I don’t.”

She did stink at it. Which was also totally fun. Best not-a-date ever.

By the eighth frame she’d managed to rack up a grand score of sixty-five. She rolled yet another gutter ball, and I grinned as she slunk off the wood floor and dropped onto the chair beside mine.

“I told you. Stink.” She tipped her head back and growled.

“Not competitive or anything, are you?”

“Shut up.” Her tongue poked out of her mouth.

I laughed. “You know, for a girl who can whack a nail straight through a stud in three swings, you sure have a noodle wrist.” I grabbed her forearm and wiggled it. “Keep it straight, and the ball will go straight.”

Time—life—froze when you least expected it to. Sarah reached to push me away, but then everything seemed to stop the moment her palm touched my chest. Our eyes met. And held. Tunnel vision faded everything from my periphery. In that silly-turned-serious moment, I only saw her. I was lost in those beautiful eyes that pleaded for significance. Identity. Love.

I love you.

The words almost fell out of my mouth.

With a jolt, my heart began to throb, and reality blasted my brain. I couldn’t tell her that right now. What if she was satisfied with it—settled for the love my imperfect heart could offer? She’d miss agape—God’s love.

Slowly I uncurled my fingers from her arm and pulled away from her touch. She looked at the floor by her feet.

No. If I could only make her understand…but I couldn’t. There weren’t words to make this make sense.

I pushed up from my chair, and we finished the game. Best not-a-date ever took a nosedive.

See, God? I told you I can’t do this.

Sarah

He was killing me. How could he look at me like that and then push me away in the next breath? Didn’t he understand what it did to me?

No more looking into his eyes. No more being silly with him. And definitely no more touching.

Jesse clobbered me in bowling. I didn’t even look at his final score—which was well into triple digits by the sixth or seventh frame. By the time we were done, the fun of the night had been snuffed out, and I felt stupid yet again.

Which was worse? Giving your body to a man you knew didn’t care one ounce about you, or wanting a man who seemed to care about you in every way except that?

If only I were prettier, more feminine. Would he feel different then?

We climbed into his truck, and the thirty-minute drive back to Lexington was quiet until he took the exit.

“Are you okay, Sapphira?”

Now
we could talk. Because it was safe. We were almost back to the hotel, and he could retreat to his room without getting mixed up about me again. Frustration gripped my chest.

“Fine.”

He turned onto the main road leading to town and then into the parking lot of our hotel. “I don’t think you’re fine.” The truck stopped, he shifted into park, and then shut off the engine. Turning toward me, he hooked his elbow on the seat in between us. “It’s been a bumpy week. What about things with your dad?”

I swallowed. Why did he dig around in the tender spots of my heart? “I’m fine.”

He shook his head, and then it happened again. Jesse’s look took on that warm, intimate quality that made my insides melt.

I looked away. “We’ll be fine.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“No.” I stared out the passenger window at the nearly empty parking lot. Moths flitted around the lamppost standing near the corner of the building. “I don’t think you need to worry about it.”

The upholstery on his seat rustled as he shifted. “I am worried. First time we talked, sounded like you and your dad were pretty close, and I know this fight is a big deal. What happened between then and now?”

I pulled in a long breath. “I’m going through some stuff he doesn’t get. It makes him mad.”

“Because he’s afraid he’ll lose you.” Jesse’s matter-of-fact tone drew my attention. “I would be.”

Our eyes collided again, and like the force of gravity on a massive boulder, I couldn’t pull away. My heart fluttered, and shallow breaths were all I could manage.

I was dying again, and it wasn’t fair. “Jesse, you can’t keep doing this to me,” I whispered. Breaking our gaze, I looked at my fists, clenched in my lap. “You’re killing me. Don’t look at me like that when you don’t care.”

His hand came to my head, and he stroked my hair. “Sarah,” he whispered, tucking a lock behind my ear.

My lips trembled, and I shook my head.

“I’m sorry.” His fingers brushed my chin for the smallest moment, then moved away. “I do care. So much.”

My eyes felt wet, but I glanced at him anyway. “Then why…”

I’d never seen that look on a man’s face before. Some kind of mixture of pain and desire and…love? No. I wouldn’t know what that looked like, so I must have been mistaken.

“I can’t explain it right now, Sarah.” His hand covered mine. “I don’t know how to make it make sense to you. I care. Deeply. But we can’t go there right now.”

A tear slipped over my eyelid. “Are you married?”

“No.” He blew out a small laugh. “No, Sapphira. There’s no one else. I promise.”

I pulled my hand away from his, missing the warmth of his touch the second it left. What did you say in a moment like that? I had nothing. I looked at my knees, then squeezed my eyes shut. Hot tears slid down my cheeks. The silence seemed to pull us in opposite directions, and my ever-present loneliness grew larger, deeper.

Why did I have to fall for a man who refused to fall for me?

“Sarah.” Jesse’s hand rested on my back. “Please…please trust me. I desperately want the best for you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” I lifted my chin and turned to look at him. “You don’t want me to be with anyone else, but
you
don’t want me either. What is best for me in your opinion, Jesse Chapman? To be alone? To be the butch carpenter girl no man would ever want?”

I was crying. Full-on sobs of resentment and confusion and pain. Why all the crying this year?

He winced as if I’d punched him in the stomach. “You are
not
butch. I told you—you’re beautiful.”

I remembered that—couldn’t forget it. Or the kiss that came after that conversation. I couldn’t take anymore. I clawed at the handle to the door, and as soon as my feet hit the ground, I slammed it shut. Three steps were all I managed before his hands gripped my shoulders.

“Stop.”

Folding in on myself, I couldn’t help but comply. His arms circled me from behind, and he pulled me against his chest. I continued to cry, leaning my head against his arm. He stayed quiet as he held me, and as confusing as it was, his solid embrace also softened the ache in my heart. I couldn’t understand why he held his heart away, but his compassion—this different kind of love—somehow lent me peace.

When my tears stopped falling and I didn’t feel so smashed, I pulled away.

He let me go and rubbed my back. “Jesus loves you, Sarah.”

I glanced back at him.

The dim light of the lamppost above us bounced off of the sheen in his eyes. He swallowed as his hand gripped mine. “He loves you more than anyone on this planet ever could.”

How did all our conversations work back to that? I looked up, and the moths around the lamp caught my attention again. They swirled around the light. Suddenly I saw myself flitting around every meager source of light and warmth—hoping for something better than a 60-watt glow.