Trouble in Paradise (18 page)

The phone rang. She groaned as she hurried out of the bedroom to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hello. May I speak to Shayla Vincent, please?”

“This is she.”

“Ms. Vincent, this is Bradley Karnes of Masterson Publishing House.”

Her heart stopped. “Yes?” There was a strange buzzing in her ears.

“I’m an acquiring editor for Masterson. I’ve read your submission, Ms. Vincent, and…”

From the doorway of the bedroom, Ian watched and listened, a sense of doom perched on his shoulder.

“Three weeks?”

He couldn’t be certain from her expression or the tone of her voice what she felt. It didn’t seem to be bad news on the other end of the line, and yet…

“Well, I suppose…” Her brows drew together in a frown. “But you see, in a few days, I’ll be getting…” A lengthy silence as she listened, then, “Yes, I understand.”

She glanced toward the bedroom, saw Ian standing there, turned away.

His sense of doom darkened, grew heavier. He took a step forward.

“By the end of August. Yes, I believe I can do that. I’ll do my best. Thank you, Mr. Karnes.” She reached for a pad of paper and a pencil and began scribbling notes on it. “Yes, I will… No, I don’t think so… Of course… Yes, and thank you again, Mr. Karnes. Goodbye.”

Ian took another couple of steps toward the kitchen.

“They’re interested in my book,” Shayla said. She turned toward him, her eyes wide with surprise. “They might want to buy it.”

“B
uy your book?” Ian strode toward her, trying to ignore his growing apprehension. “But, honey, that’s wonderful.” He embraced her, squeezing tightly.

“I sent him the first three chapters,” Shayla said, her voice muffled against his chest. “The editor wants the completed book by the end of August.”

Ian drew back. “And?”

“And I don’t have it finished. I need at least another hundred and fifty pages. Maybe more.”

His mouth was dry. His heart was pounding.

“There’s no way I can get it finished between now and the end of August. Not with the wedding and the honeymoon and everything else.”

“Then we’ll postpone the honeymoon.”

“You would do that for me?”

“No. I would do it for us.”

Tears sprang into her eyes. “He didn’t guarantee
they would buy it. We might be putting off the honeymoon for no reason.”

“But it wouldn’t be for no reason.”

“Thank you.” She placed the palm of her right hand against his left cheek. “Thank you for understanding.”

Why now, God? I’m not as understanding as I sound. I want this for her, but did it have to be now? Is this some sort of test? If it is, I’m not likin’ it much.

Shayla stepped out of his arms. “It will mean long hours in my office. I’m not a fast writer, and my outline is still a bit sketchy.” She turned away. “Maybe I should have told Mr. Karnes there was no way I could do it.”

“You’ll do it, sweetheart.” He laid his hands on her shoulders. “I have faith in you.”

A tiny shudder passed through her.

“Let’s get to work,” he said, turning her toward him again. “We’ve got to finish packing and get you over to the ranch. You have words to write.”

“But I—”

“No buts.” He gave her a smile he didn’t feel. “This’ll all work out. You’ll see.”

Shayla closed her eyes as she leaned back in her office chair. “Done,” she whispered.

Despite the time it took to get her office equipment up and running, she had managed to write ten pages today. It was a momentum she hoped to continue. It wouldn’t be easy. Especially once her family arrived.

She glanced at the clock. After midnight.

The house was silent, everyone else asleep by this time. The twins had gone to bed at nine, and about
an hour ago, she’d heard Ian and Anne bid each other good-night in the hallway.

She smiled to herself, remembering her sister’s excitement when she learned of the publisher’s phone call.

“Oh, Shayla. It’s wonderful. You’re going to be published.”

“Not yet. Nothing’s for certain.”

“Yes, it is. I can feel it. It’s going to happen. What can I do to help?”

I’m blessed,
she thought as she closed out of her word processing program and shut down the computer. Both Ian and Anne were being so understanding. Not all that along ago, she’d felt alone in her writing pursuits. Now she felt lifted by the support of her fiancé and sister.

At the doorway to her new office, she paused and glanced down the hallway toward Ian’s bedroom. No light came from beneath the closed door.

Father-God, thank You. Thank You for bringing me to this valley and into Ian’s life. Help me to be a good wife and help me to be a good writer.

After putting on a nightshirt and following her normal bedtime routine of washing her face and brushing her teeth, Shayla tiptoed into the guest bedroom she would share with Anne until Ian’s mother arrived from Florida. Guided by the soft glow of a night-light, she slipped beneath the sheet and blanket, rolled onto her side, and tucked her arm beneath the pillow. Sleep overtook her in an instant.

It was the calm before the storm.

The Vincent family arrived in their rented van at eleven o’clock the next morning. Ian was at the ranch house to greet them, along with Shayla, Anne and the twins.

Ian was aware of several things as Shayla introduced him to her parents, Reba and Doug; her brothers, Dwight, Ken and George; and her younger two sisters, Olivia and Crystal. First, that they were a noisy bunch; there was lots of talking and laughing. Second, that they were a genuinely loving family; the kissing and hugging was done in earnest and not out of obligation. And third, that their presence had an immediate somewhat negative effect on Shayla.

It took him a while to figure out what it was. That she loved them was obvious. Her delight in catching up on what had been happening to each of them since she left Oregon was real. So what was it that bothered him?

Shayla invited everyone inside for a tour of the house. Her mother was as impressed by the large kitchen as Shayla had said she would be. Her father asked Ian lots of questions about the age of the house and how it had been built and when the O’Connells came to the valley.

The tour moved outside. Crystal, at thirteen, was delighted by the dogs and asked her parents if she could have a pup from the next litter. Olivia took more notice of the two ranch hands who were doctoring an injured heifer in the barn; Anne made
certain her younger sister understood that Ty was off-limits. The three brothers seemed most interested in the news that Shayla had taken up horseback riding, expressing their disbelief.

Ian put a possessive arm around Shayla’s back and gave her a squeeze. “I think you’d be surprised by a lot of the things your sister can do.” He would have continued, might have blurted out the news about her book, but she stopped him with a slight shake of her head.

They all returned to the house where Shayla served a lunch of grilled hamburgers and tossed salad.

Ian learned more about the Vincent family over the course of that meal, and toward the end, he realized what it was about Shayla that was different. She had become the caretaker of them all, while at the same time becoming almost invisible to everyone in the room.

Ian couldn’t claim to be an expert in pop psychology, but even a cowboy from Idaho could see what was happening before his eyes. He didn’t like it much. He remembered the animated young woman he’d first seen on the deck of her cabin. That wasn’t who he saw before him now.

His gaze met with Anne’s, and her eyes seemed to say to him,
You see it, too?

Yeah, he saw.

Shayla stared at the computer monitor, watching the cursor blink on an otherwise blank screen. It was
nearly five in the morning. She’d been at her desk all night, and she’d written nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Of course, she hadn’t been able to get to her office until almost midnight. Even after taking her family to the cabin and getting them settled in, it hadn’t quieted down. There were several phone calls from her siblings, asking where this or that was. Then Cathy and Angie got into an argument about whose turn it was to feed the dogs for Uncle Ian. He wasn’t present, of course. He’d driven to the cabin with extra blankets. The twins’ argument turned to spiteful, hurtful words, followed by buckets of tears. It took Shayla fifteen minutes to comfort both girls and get them settled in for the night.

Elbows on the desk, she rested her forehead against the heels of her hands. “I’m so tired, I can’t think.” She wanted to weep.

She straightened, rose from her chair and walked to the window. The horizon was beginning to show the first traces of dawn. She could make out the shadowy forms of horses grazing in the paddock. Not even a breeze stirred the trees. It was a beautiful scene, seductively tranquil. But that was deceiving.

It wouldn’t be tranquil later today or the day after that.

Or the week after that.

Or the month after that.

Ian’s mother would arrive this afternoon. All of the Vincents would be in and out of the ranch house until after the wedding. The twins would be here until at least next spring.

How could she be a good wife to Ian and serve the Lord with her writing at the same time? It was an impossible dream. She would only make him unhappy in the end. She would hurt him less if she broke off things now. Once they made the marriage commitment before God, there would be no going back. Not for either of them.

No, she must have been mistaken, thinking the Lord wanted her to marry Ian. The call from the publisher should have been a sign to her. Shouldn’t it?

Oh, God. Here I am again. So confused. I want to do what You want me to do. What is it? Show me the way.

She heard the door open behind her and knew it was Ian.

“I can’t marry you,” she said over the lump in her throat and the ache in her chest.

She heard the door close and turned around.

Ian’s expression was grim as he stared at her.

“I can’t marry you,” she repeated.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

He didn’t cross the room, didn’t try to change her mind by taking her into his arms. He simply watched her.

“It costs too much.” She dropped her gaze to the floor. “I’ll fail the Lord if I stay. I’ll give up on my writing.”

He remained silent.

That made her angry. “I want to be a writer. I need to finish this book, and I can’t the way things
are. It was
you
who told me not to let anything get in the way of my dreams.” She cast a challenging glance in his direction.

“I remember.” His voice was flat, emotionless.

“Then you should understand.”

“I understand better than you think.” He released a sigh as he raked his fingers through his hair. “I understand all too well.”

“I’m sorry. I should have realized before now that I couldn’t go through with it. I should have—”

“Want to know what I think?” he interrupted, louder this time, a hint of anger in his voice. “I think you’re using your writing—even your calling to serve the Lord—as an excuse to run away. You’re afraid, and it isn’t because of the book.”

“I haven’t been able to write a single page all night long.”

“That’s an excuse. You’re afraid to depend on anyone else. You take care of everybody because then you’ll be too busy to open up your heart and let them in. Really inside. You’re afraid of the cost of loving, not the cost of losing a dream.” He patted his chest with his hand. “I wanted you to let
me
in. I wanted you to lean on
me.
You
could
have trusted me, Shayla.”

He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it. But then he stopped and looked at her again.

“I made the mistake of standing in the way of someone’s dream. I wouldn’t have made that mistake again, Shayla. I wouldn’t have made that mistake with you. I told you that. I tried to prove that to you.”
He opened the door. “So you go if you have to. Just remember that I love you, and I’ll be right here if you change your mind.”

It was almost seven o’clock when Shayla drove away from the house at Paradise Ranch. Her hastily packed suitcase was in the trunk, along with her computer, printer, and manuscript. In the rearview mirror, she saw Ian, sitting astride Blue, watching as she left him. He had let her go without a word. He’d simply let her go.

She was about ten miles down the highway before she realized she was crying so hard she couldn’t see the road. She blinked and wiped her eyes, then looked for a place to turn off, knowing she wouldn’t be able to stop the tears for long. Around the next bend in the road, she found a small campground alongside the river.

I wanted you to let me in. I wanted you to lean on me.

She rested her forehead on the back of her hands, hands that still gripped the steering wheel.

You could have trusted me, Shayla.

Memories drifted through her mind. Ian working with a young foal. Ian roping cattle. Ian fixing sandwiches in the kitchen. Ian playing with the twins and roughhousing with the dogs. Ian teaching her to ride, showing so much patience. Ian holding her in his arms, kissing her, loving her.

He was right. He hadn’t tried to take away her dream. He’d wanted to share in it. He didn’t want to stop her from serving God. He wanted to serve with her.

She got out of the car and walked to the river’s edge, watching as it churned and foamed, roaring over the submerged boulders and logs that lined the riverbed.

That’s how she felt. As if her insides were churning and foaming and roaring.

She sat on the ground, pulled her knees toward her chest. With her arms clasped around her shins, she pressed her face against her knees and allowed herself to cry.

With his heart pounding in fear, Ian sped down the highway. He shouldn’t have let her go. He never should have told her he wouldn’t stand in her way. Ten years ago he’d let another woman drive out of his life—and she’d died that day.

This time he had to do it right. If he lost Shayla…

Rounding a turn in the road, he saw the roof of her car, parked in a campground. He breathed a silent prayer of thanksgiving as he braked and pulled off the road. He got out of his truck, not bothering to close the door behind him. Her car was empty, but his gaze soon found her, sitting beside the river. He stopped about ten feet away, realizing that she hadn’t heard his arrival above the thunder of the river.

Her shoulders shook as she wept.

Was he making a mistake? Should he let her go? Maybe she was right. Maybe he would be in her way. Maybe…

She lifted her head and turned toward him as if
she’d sensed his presence. Her eyes glittered with tears.

No, he wasn’t making a mistake.

He crossed the ground that separated them, took hold of her arms and drew her to her feet. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

“Oh, Ian.”

He drew her closer to him. “Without you, Paradise Ranch won’t mean anything. It’ll be too empty without you in it. Don’t give up on us without a fight.”

“You were right about me. I’m afraid. It’s easier to run away
before
I fail.”

“Then stop running.” He brushed the hair off her forehead. “You don’t have to be afraid. I love you. I believe in you. I won’t hurt you.”