Heart of Clay (14 page)

If he didn’t feel like his chest constricted
into ever-tightening bands, he may have noticed what a beautiful
day it promised to be. Although he wondered where she was going,
relief flooded through him that he wouldn’t have to face her that
morning.

He went to their room, showered and dressed.
Callan’s suitcase remained where he’d left it last night. After
tossing it up on the bed, he decided to empty it for her before he
left for the ranch.

Clay couldn’t say why he felt compelled to
unpack it, but he needed to do that for her. He dumped the dirty
clothes into the laundry room, set her makeup bag on the bathroom
counter, and pushed the suitcase under the bed. He placed the
assorted paperwork on the dining room table, hung her clean blouse
in the closet and looked at a small pile of clean underclothes –
all black. He had no idea where they went. How could he not even
know where to put away Callan’s things?

He turned to her dresser and pulled open the
top drawer, staring down in surprise and shock. His neat,
organized, orderly wife had a drawer that looked like a whirlwind
had blown through it.

Clay proceeded to open all her drawers and
found the same disheveled state in each one. It wasn’t like her to
have things in disarray. Clay thought about the clothes precisely
folded, socks perfectly matched, that sat in his own dresser
drawers. He certainly didn’t care how neatly things were put away
as long as he had clean clothes when he needed them, but Callan
made the effort to create order for him.

Intrigued, Clay went through the entire
house, opening every drawer. All the kitchen, bathroom and storage
drawers were neat and organized. Why would Callan take such time
and effort to bring order to everything except her personal things?
Was it her way of saying she didn’t matter, wasn’t important?

He ventured into Callan’s office and looked
around. In the past, he’d hated this room because he assumed it was
where Callan went to hide. Now, he knew better.

Beautifully decorated, it offered a great
view of the backyard. The sage green and white color scheme created
a calming and soothing atmosphere.

No wonder Callan spends so
much time in here
.

Despite the feeling that he invaded her
space, he sought answers for questions he couldn’t yet voice as he
opened drawers, the filing cabinet, and cupboards.

He sat down and read the business plan she’d
shoved in his face last night. Her business savvy and success
didn’t surprise Clay in the least.

Callan had always been smart, driven, and
detail-oriented. Clay picked up the ledger and went through it page
by page. An entry posted in payments dated in the spring nearly
three years ago caught his eye. A payment to the hospital, made out
of Callan’s business account. They both had good insurance, so the
total wasn’t staggering, but the thought that she wouldn’t even use
his money, their joint account, to pay the bill for the miscarriage
made his jaw clench.

Why, Callan, girl? Why did you hide this
from me?

As he stared out the window without seeing
anything, Clay knew that at any time, he could have talked to
Callan. He could have asked about her business, about the bills,
about the debt and she would have shared everything with him. She
wasn’t hiding anything.

Irritated at her for not taking the loan
from his parents and jealous of the time she spent on her business,
he wanted to make her suffer a little. He made barbed comments
about her dreams, ignored her success, and hurt her deeply. Clay
realized how childishly he’d behaved.

Regret weighed heavy on him as he rose to
his feet and placed the ledger and business plan back in the drawer
Callan pulled them from last night. Contemplative, he went out to
start his pickup and scrape the windshield.

On his way back through the living room, he
noticed the broken vase that fell to the floor when he’d slammed
the front door. Carefully cleaning up the pieces, it seemed ironic
that of all the things he could have broken, the heart-shaped
crystal vase he’d given Callan for their second anniversary was the
one that hit the floor.

A broken heart beyond repair, thanks to
him.

He hoped Callan’s heart was in better shape
than the one he just dumped in the trash.

Hurriedly returning to the bedroom, he
grabbed a duffle bag from the closet and packed it with a change of
clothes and things he’d need for an overnight stay. After writing
Callan a note, he left it on the kitchen counter then went out the
door.

A short while later he arrived at the ranch.
He took a deep breath before opening the back door.

“Hey, there, Clay,” Bobbi said as he walked
into the kitchen and tossed his bag on the floor. “What are you
doing out here on this gorgeous Saturday?”

Clay removed his hat and sank down onto one
of the bar stools at the counter. “I need some space and time to
think. Do you mind if I spend the night, Mom? Please?”

Bobbi turned off the water she’d been
running into a saucepan, concern causing her brow to wrinkle.
Callan and Clay never fought and she didn’t know what to make of
Clay’s request. She wiped her hands and leaned across the counter,
looking Clay square in the face. “What did you do?”

“It’s kind of complicated,” Clay said, not
yet willing to share the details with his family.

“Does Callan know you’re here?”

“She will when she finds my note. She wasn’t
home when I left.” Clay stared at the countertop, avoiding his
mother’s direct gaze.

Bobbi gave him an accusing glare. “So you
took the coward’s way out and left when she wasn’t home to stop
you.”

Clay’s head snapped up and he started to
make a smart remark. Instead, he sighed dejectedly. “Mom, I just
can’t talk about it right now. Can I stay or not?”

Bobbi walked around the counter and put her
arms around her son. “You don’t need to ask, honey. Is Callan
okay?”

“No. Julie is going to spend the day with
her.”

In an effort to lighten the mood, Bobbi gave
him a teasing smile. “You do know I told Callan a long time ago
that if you two ever split up, we were keeping her and you were the
one hitting the road.”

Clay couldn’t help but offer a grin in
return. “Thanks, Mom. That really makes me feel better.”

After tossing his bag into his old bedroom,
Clay caught his favorite horse, saddled Doc, and decided a long
ride would give him plenty of time to think. He rode off in the
direction of the old homestead cabin. It looked lonely and forsaken
against the winter snow.

He tied Doc to a hitching rail that had held
the reins of countless horses over the years then opened the door
and walked inside. He used to like to play “pioneers” in the cabin
when his friends came to spend the night. It was a great place for
boys to roughhouse and wrestle.

Made out of huge logs, the cabin was
weathered but solid. There were two original rooms: the great room
that housed the kitchen, dining and living area, as well as one
bedroom. In the 1920s, another bedroom and a bathroom were added,
making the cabin much more modern. He knew before his parents moved
in as newlyweds, much of the cabin had been updated and renovated.
A massive rock fireplace kept the whole cabin toasty warm on cold
nights.

As Clay wandered around, looking at old
family heirlooms, he wondered how much love and how many heartaches
the old cabin had seen. If it could talk, he was sure it would have
plenty of stories to tell.

He remembered bringing Callan to the cabin
for the first time. She thought it was wonderful, full of the
history of his family. “It’s a wonderful thing to be able to pass
on to future generations, Clay,” she’d said. Yet, she’d known then
there wouldn’t ever be a future generation.

Clay sank down on a sheet-covered chair with
the weight of the world resting across his broad shoulders.

Up until yesterday, he hadn’t given much
thought to fatherhood. It was something he hadn’t gotten around to
yet. Now that he knew there would never be a child of his own flesh
and blood, he suddenly felt cheated. He had no idea how he could
mourn something he never had, never even knew he wanted, but grief
clutched relentlessly at his chest.

He wondered if Callan had been about to tell
him the truth the night she had an asthma attack. She started to
say what was bothering her and blurted out the word “killing.”
Would she have told him then if she could? Not that it mattered
now.

Clay let his thoughts wander back three
years. When he’d returned home from the training trip, Callan told
him she had an emergency appendectomy and didn’t want to worry him.
He didn’t question it, accepting her explanation for her pale
cheeks, fresh scar, and weakened state.

How could she keep a secret like that to
herself? Why hadn’t he noticed? How could he have missed it? How
had he overlooked the fact that she had been four months pregnant?
Wouldn’t she have been showing by then?

Admittedly, he’d been wrapped up in his job
at that point in their marriage. He taught extra classes, worked
with the competitive teams as an assistant, and did whatever he
could to further his career. Evidently, he’d managed to stay so
involved in his work he missed the signs from Callan that something
was terribly wrong.

When she needed him most, he’d let her
down.

Clay could see that Callan had spent the
last three years sinking down to the point where she could no
longer bear the burden of her secret. A secret she wouldn’t have
felt necessary to keep if he had been supportive of her or paid the
least bit of attention to what happened in her life and heart.

Julie said Callan nearly bled to death when
she miscarried. What if he’d lost her then? Clay’s throat clogged
on the emotion and fear generated by that thought. Shaken, he took
off his hat and raked his hands through his hair. Finally, he
leaned back and let out a shaky breath.

“Lord, I’m going to need your help to get
through this,” Clay prayed, his heart filled with pain. “Help me to
forgive Callan. Help me to help her. Help me to be the husband she
needs me to be.”

Clay didn’t know how long he sat in the
stillness of the cabin, letting his thoughts and emotions tumble.
The sound of Doc whickering and another horse answering drew him
off the chair and to the door. He watched his dad dismount and walk
toward him.

Steve gave him a hearty handshake and pat on
the back. “Your mom was worried about you,” he said, walking inside
and closing the door. “It isn’t much warmer in here than outside.
Why didn’t you build a fire or turn up the heat?”

“I didn’t think the chimney had been cleaned
for a while and didn’t want to burn the place down. I completely
forgot about the electric furnace,” Clay said absently. “It would
have been a waste to heat it up for a few minutes anyway.”

“You’ve been out here for hours. No sense in
freezing. Besides, I have the chimney cleaned every fall when we do
the one at the house, just in case someone wants to use the cabin.”
Steve looked around before taking a seat on the chair Clay vacated.
He removed his cowboy hat and hung it from his knee. “I figured I’d
find you hiding out here. You sure did that a lot as a young
buck.”

Clay leaned against the fireplace mantle and
glanced at his dad. “I did? I guess I don’t remember.”

Steve smiled and nodded his head. “Anytime
you had some problem to think through or wanted to hide, you’d come
to the cabin. It always seemed to be a good thinking spot for you.
Is it helping today?”

Clay rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I don’t
think so. I can’t get my thoughts into any kind of order let alone
make sense.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“No.”

“I don’t know what happened between you and
Callan, but I do know you two love each other way too much not to
work at making things right. Sometimes marriage is fun and games
but sometimes it is hard work. Really hard work. You know your mom
and I are both ready to listen whenever you need us.” Steve stood
from the chair and settled his hat back on his head. Playfully
throwing an arm around Clay’s neck, he tugged him toward the door.
“Let’s get home and enjoy the dinner your mother made. I’m too old
to sit out in the cold like this.”

Callan awoke still curled into a ball on the
bed. The quilt under her cheek was soaked from her tears and she
clutched Clay’s pillow tightly in her hands. She realized he must
have come home last night at some point. Her suitcase was no longer
on the bed, she was covered, and he’d removed her shoes.

Unhurriedly rolling onto her back, she
sighed.

Heartsick.

That’s what was wrong with her. She was
heartsick – over the losses from the past, the loss sure to come
when Clay left her. As sure as she regretted the last three years,
he would never forgive her.