Authors: Shelby Fallon
Taking Faith (11 page)
"Morning," she said softly, remembering how angry he'd been last night and thought she
was
trying to trick him. She wondered how to act, but stuck to her plan. "Thanks for putting me in bed. I slept really good last night."
"You're welcome." He cleared his throat and sat up. "And I'm sorry I was such a butthead."
She giggled and tried to cover it with her fingers. His brow shot up in humorous question so she said, "Butthead?"
"Well, that's what I was being wasn't it?"
"A little. It's all right." She
flopped back into the bed and stretched. "I can't imagine growing up the way you have."
"I can't imagine growing up the way
you
have
," he mused and sat on the side of the bed.
She smiled, pulling her knees up as she lay on the pillow. Her hands rested on her belly and she tapped her nails together. "My dad was…" she looked at him, "really great. He was a fireman. He died when I was sixteen."
His brow bunched. "Sorry."
"You know, it's sad, it is, but to know that your father died trying to save someone…it makes it a little bit better. There was a huge fire at an apartment complex and a woman's teenage son was still inside
,
so my dad went back in to find him. They both died, but just knowing that he tried…" She gulped, but kept her smile in place. "My mom was always the stay at home kind, so she quickly had to get a job as a waitress at night. I've never seen a woman so tired in my life. I got a job, too, but we made it all work. Dad's insurance paid off the house,
so
we just took care of everything else."
"Insurance? You mean life insurance?"
"Yeah." The way he said it made her think he almost didn't know what it was. "Do you not have life insurance?"
He shook his head. "No, we don't do that kind of thing here."
Amy nodded in understanding. Why would you leave your wife that
you stole money after you died?
“
What happens if someone dies here?"
"Well, the wife is placed with another man
if she's young enough. If not…" He looked away. "The money from the bank account and the man's house is set in a will to go to another man. A son sometimes or a friend's baby that will need the house when he grows up."
"So, you guys have a lot of money
,
huh?" she asked to change the subject.
"We all do. We only shop with each other and we have everything we need here. We do a lot on the stock market and investments, too, as a group."
"Huh. Must be nice."
"What?"
"To have money to do whatever you want with."
"Not whatever I want," he said bitterly. "I can't leave town without checking out with a guard. I can't move away and start new somewhere else. I can't let you go…"
She sat up and looked at him. "You'd really let me go?"
"But I can't," he answered. "I told you, Amy, I don't want you here." She bristled. What did she have to do for this man to get him to stay in nice mode for just two seconds? She scooted to the opposite side of the bed and got up. "Where are you going?"
"Breakfast," she answered quickly and made her way to the kitchen.
She was starting the coffee when she felt his hands on her arms from behind. "I don't want you here," he repeated and she jolted. Why was he doing this? "That's what I said, but not what I meant, or it came out wrong." He turned her to
face him. "I meant
you don't belong here. I feel…differently and I can't imagine you getting in the crossfire.
We won't be
able to live like this, Amy," h
e said softly. Everything he was saying was soft and filled with concern. "We can't pretend forever."
She took a deep breath, but when she did, she inhaled his soap and cologne. He was so close. "I'm not pretending. I'm just being me."
"You don't love me." Her mouth dropped open
in surprise
. "That's what I thought. Then you're pretending," he concluded and she saw his point.
"I don't see another way at this point. Roger, you don't belong here either. You're not like them."
"But I am."
"No
,
you're not."
"Oh, yes I am," he growled bitterly. "I am exactly like them. I stole you didn't I?"
"Technicall
y, some Hispanic
man in a van stole me. If you think about it that way…you kind of saved me. I could be with one of
them
,
" she jerked her head to the door, "right now. Or in some…whore house." She shook her head at the thought. "I could
be
dead for all I know."
He looked in her eyes and she finally, after all this
time, saw the color of them
. They were a deep brown, almost black, but with little pieces of gold. He seemed to be taking note of something himself as his eyes searched and ran over
her face more than once. "Are you
an
angel?" he whispered and gave her a crooked smile. "It's the only explanation that makes
any
sense."
"Maybe," she said coyly. "So you better start being nice to me."
He nodded as if she had commanded him. "I will, I promise. I'm really sorry. I just didn't know what to do with you. I was…scared for you and scared
of
you. I don't like feeling like that."
"Then don't anymore. We have an agreement, right? We're just an old married couple now." She said the words to him, and meant them. If she never saw an opening to leave she would just be here with this man. What other alternative did she have? And if the opportunity did arise, she'd leave and Roger
would get over her leaving.
He smiled, seeming relieved. "Shake on it."
He held his hand out.
She was temporarily stunned. She'd never seem him grin like that before
, so carefree and finally like he wasn't holding up a massive pile of worries,
and it was distracting. She'd be lying if she pretended it wasn't.
He smiled wider and took her hand from her side. He shook it in his. "We have a deal."
"Deal," she
whispered, because her voice refused to cooperate. She should feel like she was signing a deal with the devil, but she didn't. She was…intrigued and eager about what was to come. She wanted to scold herself, but there wasn't time.
The work day was calling and the coffee maker beeped to let her know that the brew was ready for consumption. And she really needed a freaking cup of coffee.
Chapter 10
The next t
hree
weeks went just like that. Work, home, dinner, sleep. She slept in the bed and he found his way to the floor next to it
every night. They woke, were pleasant and sometimes even joking, and then another work day started. They had hosted another husband
from the community
once already and it went just fine. Amy realized that if you just kept your head down and your mouth shut, they really didn't even seem to notice you.
But Roger noticed. She caught his eyes on her constantly.
To say that she wasn't feeling something for the man was the biggest kind of lie. But she was just pretending and showing him some kindness, and he was definitely just pretending. He'd told her so and shook on it.
Today was a Friday and she was looking forward to the weekend. Maybe she could talk Roger into another drive in the convertible. She smiled at that as they pulled into Mitchell's Supply. She followed him back into the shop and took her usual stool. He immediately started on a sign that needed to be finished. He was carving the indentions with a hand tool, back and forth. Scooping and slicing pieces of wood off as he went. She watched, fascinated. When he stopped, she looked up to see him silently laughing at her. "What?" she asked and smiled.
"You want to try?"
"Really?" she asked practically bounded up from her stool. "Um, sure," she tried for nonchalance, but he laughed harder so she knew she failed.
"Come over here and hold this," he instructed and put his arms around her from behind. She felt her lips part as his warm breath splayed over her cheek and neck as he said, "Put one hand here…and one hand here. Like that, good. Now, we're going to go up with a little push," he instructed it with his hands over hers as they leaned into the wood, shaving off a slice as they did so, "now back with
no resistance. See?"
She nodded and wondered why she was the only one about to keel over from him touching her. Oh, that's right. He was faking it, as she should be doing. He seemed perfectly cool and calm as they continued to go back and forth, his back and legs pressed against her.
The radio changed to something slow, sultry. She almost groaned at the setting scene. Was this Ghost and she was Demi Moore? She needed to get out of this, put her head back on straight, and stop getting silly notions about having feelings for this man. But whe
n she told her brain to push him
off, her body refused. It was content and happy. It was…practically glowing under his touch.
She closed her eyes and prayed that God would not make her fall in love with this man.
* * *
Too late. It was
way
too late. Roger knew the second she was pressed against him that it was too late for him. He was a goner, a sap, a puppy begging
for attention. He had been naïve to think that they could just pretend there wasn't something there crackling between them every day. She smelled so good
-
that
strawberry shampoo he’d bought her -
and her skin… He had to gulp to stop from smelling her hair right there in front of her. He was glad that his voice was steady at least.
This girl. This girl that was so beautiful inside and out was breaking him down. Breaking his defenses, his beliefs, his moods, his
useless
heart.
He didn't know what was right anymore. Was it right if he really and truly loved her?
* * *
Amy felt him exhale into her hair and she braced herself to stop them, but the goose bumps spread rapidly down her arms making her shiver. That was when it stopped being playful, stopped being pretend, as they both stiffened. She waited for one of them to move.
It was Roger who stopped their hands and put the tool to the side. It was his hands that turned her to face him, it was his hands that
took her face in them so gently and it was his breath that was heavy and laced with anxiety. She let her face tilt to look at him. She was tired of fighting it. If he was going to kiss her, she'd gladly accept it and deal with the consequences later.
She watched every tortured emotion play out on his face and for the first time Amy could remember, she felt violent. If his father had walked through the door at that moment she wasn't sure she could have contained herself. That man had scarred Roger so badly, he didn't even know how to act or respond. He didn't trust his own mind or judgment about anything. He second guessed everything. Like right now, Roger was over thinking what it would mean if he kissed her. He wasn't worried about whether Amy wanted to or not. She was pretty sure it was written all over her face. No, he was worried beyond that. He was worried about the future.
Amy licked her lips when they were too dry from her fast breaths. Roger's eyes changed. He looked like he was drowning. He inched forward and she closed her eyes. She felt his bottom lip barely touch her top one, but he stopped. With their noses pressed together, he waited and held steady right there. Eventually she opened her eyes to find him watching her. His eyes were wide open and she saw everything. He was fighting it, but he thought he was doing it for her. He didn't
realize that she might be open to more…until right this second. He looked enlightened, scared out of his mind, and
agonized.
"You want me to kiss you," he said and it was in no way a question.
"Roger-" she tried, but he was on a roll.
"Amy, no. No, no, no, please don't do this." She huffed at his words and started to pull away, but he held her still with his hands on her cheeks. "Amy," he sighed in agony
,
closing his eyes. "Don't make me fall in love with you." He opened his eyes. "I'm…not good for you. I'm not fixable."
"Roger, you're a good man-"
"No, I'm not. Good things don't come from evil things, Amy. I may be just a spawn, but I'm
his
spawn," he spat in anger. "Don’t you see? I'll ruin you."
She shook her head. "I wish more than anything that I could make y
ou see that's not true. If it i
s true, then why won't you kiss me?"
"I can't," he pleaded. "I can't, Amy."
"Why? Say it!"
"Because I won't be able to stop kissing you once I start!" he yelled, his breathing loud. "The one time I let the evil in me take over it'll ruin you. You'll be mine and you'll be stuck here forever."
"I thought I was already stuck," she murmured as she looked at him.
He shook his head and started to speak, but the shop door opened. His father walked in with his uncle and Amy could have screamed at his timing. Could have screamed at him
. And from the look on his face, he wasn't too happy about what he found.
Amy looked back up to Roger and saw his resolve. He knew there was about to be an altercation and he silently told Amy that
it
was all right. He started to remove his hands
from her face, but she held him close
by his shirt front. "Don't, Roger."
"Amy, go wait in the office," he said quietly.
"It'll be ok."
This was it. This was her test. She could go back into the office, turn her eyes from this man and know what was happening, get his keys from the desk and get in his truck. She might even make it out of town.
But could she do that after everything that happened
? No, Amy knew she couldn’t.
"Roger, no," she begged. "Let's just go. Me and you, we can go somewhere.
We'll run.
"
His shocked expression held hope and promise, but that was all she could ask for at the time. She needed to let it soak in slowly. Roger would need some time. Time that they didn't have. She couldn’t push him
,
so she just prayed. When he set her away, putting himself between his father and her, she knew she wouldn't win this time. "Go, Amy. Please. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you." His eyes lit with some idea that she didn’t get, but quickly turned flat again. "Go. I don't want you to watch."
"Fight, Roger. It's not wro
ng to fight back!" she hissed low so that
his father wouldn't hear.
"
I…can't. Go," he ordered loud and harshly. She had to obey now that they could hear him. He would be in even more trouble if she didn't and they both knew it. She turned to heed his request and also to hide her welling eyes. This was so wrong. So, so wrong!
She sank into the desk chair, hearing their raised voices and jumped when someone came through the door. It was a man. He looked a little familiar to her. He asked where Roger was and she pointed to the shop. He eyed her curiously and went through the double doors. The voices q
uieted and a minute or so later
Roger was coming out with the man. He looked at a few papers the man handed him and then his father and uncle came out. "We'll come see you another day, Rog," his uncle sneered. "You can bet on it."
Roger said nothing to either of them
, just continued to look through the papers. When he found what he was looking for he told the man a total. The man paid the money leaving Roger and Amy standing awkwardly.
"I'm sorry," Roger finally said.
Amy looked at him. "What on earth could you possibly be sorry for today?"
"For being weak. I'm sorry that I…can't be…" he shook his head and left without another word. She sat down in the chair and waited for him to be done. It was a long work day and when he finally emerged from the shop, all sweaty and tired looking, he stopped as if surprised to see her still there.
He nodded his head to the door
, waited for her to follow him
and locked it behind them. He held her door open and made the quick drive home. Once inside he was restless. He paced and
seemed to keep rubbing his face so she tried her best to ignore him and
make dinner. On their last trip to town, she bought some tea. Though he
had
raised his
brow
questionably at her, he said nothing about it.
She made a pot for sweet tea. It wasn't to spite him, she just missed it.
He was still pacing the linoleum when someone knocked on the door. Roger and Amy both stopped and looked at each other.
His father was back.
"Stay in the kitchen," he ordered and
went to the door. He was slow and meticulous as he unlocked the door and unhooked the latch. She saw his shoulders sag in relief. "Alex
. H
ey, man."
"Hey, Rog.
You uh, left these. You never came to pick them up." Alex held some papers in his hand out for Roger.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot. Sorry." He peeked back at her. "Lot on my mind,
ya
know?"
"Yeah, I imagine," Alex said and waved at her from the door way. "Hi, Amy."
She gulped and waved back. Why the heck was he talking to her? She turned back into the kitchen, hearing their chatter. She thought
about the best thing to do
and decided to get th
em both a glass of sweet tea.
Alex smiled and thanked her.
Roger took it and watched her as she walked away. She tried to finish looking for something for dinner, but
she couldn't stop
making herself listen to Roger and Alex. Alex was asking him how things were going. Roger was telling him things were going great, but every time Alex tried to leave, Roger would stop him with a question.
Finally, he left and Roger made his way into the kitchen with both his and Alex's glasses of ice. He set them on the counter and looked at her. "I think Alex was checking up on me. Making sure that I hadn't beaten the hell out of you."
She jumped at his tone and his wording.
He came at her slowly and grabbed her hand. "I'm making dinner," she protested as he dragged her away.
"No dinner," he answered and brought her to the front room. He looked at her and then pointedly looked at the door. Or…the door latch. It was unlocked. He looked back to her with resolve in his eyes. He pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair. One of his hands came to hold her face while the other rested on her back. He pulled back and leaned down to look her right in the eyes. "I was
n't
pretending, Amy. I wasn’t faking anything with you. You…changed me. You are everything I see when I think about anything good, and I want to know that you'll stay that way." He pressed his forehead
to hers. "All the things that have been done to me, I'm used to it, but you...you're every bit the angel that I always knew you were.
"
He l
et the ha
nd on her cheek pull her closer. She closed her eyes knowing he was going to kiss her, he was confessing that he felt something, but he once again just sat there and breathed her in.
He made a move, but it was to kiss her cheek, so, so close to her mouth.
"Thank you, Amy, for
showing me what kindness looks
like."
She sighed and felt her insides begin to quake with tears. And when he turned to go, she knew exactly what he was doing.