A Man's Heart (35 page)

Still … A small part of her had to be certain of what he was asking. She cleared her throat. “Cruz?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you asking me to come home for the children's benefit … or yours?”

Silence. Then. “Right now for the kids. But later …” He paused then started over. “I don't know, Jules. I —” He drew a deep breath. “I miss you.”

Closing her eyes, she held the receiver closer. “I miss you too.”

“Maybe …”

“We could start over?”

He chuckled. “No thanks. No start overs, but we've both grown. Maybe I didn't understand your needs, and maybe you didn't understand mine. We could work on knowing each other better.”

“I'd like that very much.”

“Jules.”

“Yeah?”

“Call the airline.”

Twenty minutes later she was booked on flight 329. She'd be in Pasco at 9:14 p.m. the following Monday night.

When she called to tell Cruz, he picked up on the first ring.

“9:14 p.m., next Monday.”

“I'll be there.” He paused. “Will you?”

She supposed she had that coming, but he couldn't gain
complete trust with one phone conversation. “I'll be there, Cruz.”

“I'm dead serious, Jules. Will you be there this time? To stay?”

She despised the hurt, yet the hope she heard in his voice. She'd be there. Nothing could keep her from this date.

“It's a promise. An adult-we've-both-grown, promise. I will be there.” Never again would she allow anyone but the Almighty to come between them. That was a pledge she'd have no troubling keeping.

“Then I'll be at the gate waiting for you. 9:14 p.m. Monday evening.”

J
ules cringed when a sharp bolt of lightning lit the bedroom. She was packed, ready to leave for the airport, anticipating a bumpy flight, but she'd face anything to get back home and into Cruz's arms. Sitting down on the bed, she repeated the thought out loud, loving the sound. Cruz and her. With work, they could regain what she'd neglected twice; she had no doubt that their love could overcome this last dreadful obstacle — regaining his trust. She'd loved Pop, respected his wishes, but it was now her time to fully love the one man she'd never stopped loving.

Crystal called from the kitchen, “We'd better go or you're going to be late for your flight!”

Jules chuckled, laying her cell phone on the bed. Only an act of God could make her late for this flight. Slipping off the mattress, she closed and locked the suitcase and then set it on the floor. Outside, rain and thunder lashed the windows. Shuddering, she imagined a turbulent flight with this kind of weather, but right now she'd fly a Canada goose back to Cruz.

“I'm getting in the car!” Crystal called. “Traffic will be horrible this time of day.”

Reaching for her purse, Jules grabbed the luggage handle and rolled her case to the garage where Crystal's old Fiat sat covered with a blue tarp. Her sister rarely drove, preferring to ride her bike or walk. The tarp came off, and the luggage was stored in the backseat. The two women climbed in and buckled up. The old engine cranked refusing to turn over. Jules checked her watch. “Will it start?” They'd gone for dinners and ice cream a few times since she'd been here, and once the old motor refused to cooperate. They had walked home and sent a mechanic back for the Fiat the next morning. She checked her watch. She still had plenty of time to call a cab.

“It'll start. It's just fussy.” Her sister turned the key, coaxing the motor to life. Eventually the engine caught and sputtered. Black smoke poured from the tailpipe as Crystal slowly backed out of the shed.

Rain pelted the canvas roof during the drive to the airport. Severe lightning moved on, but a steady downpour flooded the streets. Halfway there, Crystal glanced at the wavering gas needle. “I need gas. I'm running on fumes.”

Jules checked her watch. “Can't we make it to the airport and then you can get fuel?”

“No.” She checked the rearview mirror. “We won't make it to the airport. There's a truck stop up ahead. Hold on.”

Anxiety building, Jules grasped her seat buckle as Crystal crossed three lanes and exited. Thunder boomed.

Climbing out of the car, Crystal raked her credit card through the pump station, and then started fuel flowing. Checking the time, Jules ticked off the minutes.

“Aunt Jube's coming home!”

“Aunt Jube!” Olivia mimicked Ethan's antics, racing around the living room floor with Cruz chasing behind him holding his coat.

“Come on, Ethan. You've got to put your coat on. We're going to be late.” He glanced at the wall clock. Six-thirty. They still had plenty of time before Jules's plane landed, but while he was in Pasco he wanted to shop — buy Jules a little something to say welcome home. The last thing he'd bought her was an engagement ring. He still had it in his top drawer: only been worn twice.
Are you setting yourself up for another fall? Would she show up this time?

He hoped so; with everything in him, he hoped so. Without her, his life was empty and meaningless. He'd thought for a long time he would find someone, some other woman that ignited his passion, but he hadn't. Nobody could replace her. He didn't like the idea, but he was stuck with it. And he was weary of fighting his feelings. Maybe God created Jules for him, and if he missed the opportunity, he would go through life wondering where he'd taken the last wrong turn.

Cruz knew his road map. And he wasn't taking any more wrong turns.

Once he was through shopping, he'd feed the kids and drive to the airport. He checked the clock again. Doubt nagged him but he shoved it aside. Trust had to start somewhere, and the past few weeks had proven that he still needed her. Oddly enough, he liked the idea. The only person he'd been kidding the past few years was himself. He couldn't get her off his mind or out of his heart. The years had made a difference in both their lives. She'd matured and so had he. Neither one was perfect, but they could work on their differences. They were no
longer starry-eyed teenagers; they knew if a goal was worth working on, it meant trust and sacrifice. With God's help, they would defeat their obstacles. He wasn't willing to go through life like Pop, miss out on the best life had to offer, family, love, because he was incapable of forgiving. It was time to bury the past and acknowledge that in time mistakes could be overcome. He and Jules wouldn't straighten everything out at once, right every wrong or correct every mistake, but he was betting they could, given time. And they both had lots of time.

“Ethan! Slow down and put your coat on.”

The boy slowed and Cruz slipped the child's arms through the heavy fabric. Temperatures were in the low twenties at night. He thought about Jules coming out of balmy Florida and how she'd resent the climate change. Washington wasn't Florida, but it was home, and he knew home took precedent over environment in her heart.

God, don't let her back-out on me again.

He shook his head, refusing to consider that she'd give her word and not show up. She loved the kids too much, loved him too much. He could see it in her eyes when she looked at him. She wouldn't stay in Florida when he was offering her a chance to start over. Would she? He reached for one of his heavy jackets, knowing she wouldn't be wearing one when she got off the plane.

Adan appeared in the doorway, capturing Olivia. “Come on, Cricket. It's time to bundle up.”

Cruz turned to look at him. “Are you going with us?”

“You want me to?”

“It's not necessary.” He'd hoped to have the time at the gate alone with Jules. There was a lot to talk about, a lot of rebuilding to start.

“Then I won't go. I'm going to The Grille, eat and play a game of pool.” He put Olivia's coat and mittens on her. The child was bundled tight as a tick. “Crystal's not coming, is she?”

“Jules didn't mention her. I assume she'll stay in Florida, run the shell shop.”

Adan sobered. “I hope not.”

“You want her to come back here?”

Shrugging, Adan tied on Livvy's hat. “Can't say that I'd mind. She's a lot of fun, great to watch movies with, and she loves these kids.”

Grinning, Cruz wondered who would beat whom to the altar first. He and Jules? Or Adan and Crystal. “Uncle Adan?”

Adan glanced at Livvy. “Yeah, Cricket?”

“I hafta go.”

The Fiat pulled back onto Interstate 10, heading eastbound. Jules glanced at the digital clock Crystal had mounted on the dash. “It's eleven o'clock! The plane leaves in an hour.”

“An hour and seven minutes,” Crystal corrected. “We have plenty of time.”

“Drive faster.”

“You're always in such a hurry.” Crystal mashed on the gas pedal and the Fiat streaked down the interstate.

Or not.
Jules grasped her seat. A dead Jules would be worthless. She'd like to get there alive.

“Here's where Mom had her accident.”

Jules whipped her head to look as the car shot past. Poor Mom. She must have been terrified when she looked up and spotted the diesel coming toward her. Had her life flashed
through her mind? Had she thought of me and Pop? Did she have regrets?
It's okay, Mom. I know mistakes are hard to correct. I forgive you.

Fifteen minutes later, the Fiat screeched to a halt at arrivals/departures. Jules piled out, grabbed her bag from the back seat, hugged Crystal, and promised to keep in close touch. She even got a little misty during the leave taking. For the first time in her life, Jules meant it when they both said the obligatory “I love you.” Sometime during the past hectic months, she'd fallen in love with her sister.

She took advantage of curbside check-in and entered the terminal through the manual door.

The airport was full. Chairs were filled, walls lined with sleeping flyers. Jules sensed a hitch when she approached security. She eyed the long line and her stomach fluttered. “Is there a problem?” she asked a woman standing in front of her.

“The storm knocked out power. The tower is down.”

Jules's stomach tightened. “Flights are delayed?”

“Afraid so.” The woman sighed. “This could be a long day.”

Jules reached for her cell phone and then realized that she'd left it on the bed. She'd have to find a public phone, call Cruz and tell him the plane would be late. Did they even have public phones anymore? Lights flickered. A murmur went up. Then they came back on.

Then everything went dark. A murky gray consumed Jules and she swallowed back rising hysteria. Voices floated around her. Disgruntled. Frantic. She was standing in the security line but she couldn't move an inch. She'd always had a good sense of direction but at the moment she couldn't make out right from left. She had never once thought of being in a strange airport with no lighting and a black storm overhead.

Voices filtered through the abyss. “Where's the back-up power?”