The Rebel and His Bride (17 page)

“No news yet. It’ll be another hour or two before the surgery’s over and we’ll just have to wait and see what happens. Pat’s feeling a little guilty, I think. She’s afraid she was letting her mother do too much. I told her that the person hadn’t been born who could keep Hilary from doing what she wants to do.”

“I’m sure that helped. Are you holding up okay?”

He smiled wearily. “I guess. At least this isn’t the crack of dawn.”

“That’s right. You never were much of a morning person, were you?”

“I’m still not. And, luckily, I don’t usually have to be up too early. Sunday mornings I’m up by eight, at church by nine. During the week, the same thing. The only time I get up earlier than that is Easter morning for the sunrise service. I don’t mind that because sunrise on Easter morning is as full of magic as Christmas morning. More so, because Christmas gave us a baby, Easter gave us a miracle.” He smiled again, then stood. “I’m going to the hospital chapel. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Ten minutes later she went to find him. When she opened the chapel door, she saw him on his knees in front of the altar. His hands were resting
on the polished oak railing and his face was lifted up as he prayed silently. When he was finished, a look of absolute peace settled over him.

Funny, she thought as she saw the serenity that suffused his face. When she’d met him, he’d believed in God, but he’d never been especially religious. She knew that he had to have a deep belief in order to become a minister, but she was suddenly seeing just how deep that faith went. It was an uncompromising, all-encompassing faith, and it disconcerted her as nothing else had.

Up until now she’d been thinking of his ministry as just another one of his causes. Now she saw that it was more. So much more.

Thinking back over the past couple of weeks, she realized that he was on call almost like a doctor. Didn’t a minister have to contend with evenings spent visiting members of the congregation? And what about Saturdays spent preparing sermons or performing weddings? How about being called any hour of the day or night to counsel people or comfort them? Or how about having your own life be an open book, above reproach? One slipup, one indication that you might be just an average guy, could cost you your job.

Her heart slammed in her chest and her palms grew damp. How could she have been so unobservant? So blind? What a fool’s paradise she’d been living in! Her stomach churned and she stared at Gregory’s strong and precious features as he slowly got to his feet.

Dear God, she loved him, but she didn’t think she could compete with this cause. She’d always felt neglected because of his dedication, but this wasn’t just dedication. This was devotion. And this wasn’t just a cause. This was his life.

Annabelle and Gregory stayed until they knew Hilary Cochran had come through the surgery with flying colors. When they arrived back in White Creek, Gregory automatically headed his car toward his house, only Annabelle stopped him. “Gregory, I have a little headache. Would you mind taking me to Gran’s?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to my house? I’ll fix you something to eat and massage your shoulders.”

God, that sounded good. She could almost feel his talented fingers working the kinks out of her body. She just didn’t think he’d be able to work the kinks out of her thoughts as well. “No, thanks anyway. I think I’ll just lie down for a while and take a nap.”
Please, just hurry and get me home. I’m being held together by only a couple of safety pins right now and I need to fall apart alone
.

“Well, if you’re sure …” he began, disappointment edging his voice.

“I’m sure.” No sooner had his car stopped in front of her grandmother’s house than Annabelle headed up the walk. She went straight to her bedroom and closed the door carefully, then sat on the
bed. She looked down at her hands, surprised to see them clenched in her lap. She loosened them and was even more surprised to see them tremble.

It wasn’t going to work. She knew that as clearly as if it were written on the wall across from her. Why hadn’t she realized it before now? Had she been so intrigued with the new feelings blossoming between them that she’d ignored everything else? Or was it that she just hadn’t
wanted
to notice?

She curled up in a ball on her bed, her thoughts spinning until she felt dizzy and sick. Her throat felt tight, her eyes burned and stung. Then she cried. She cried softly so that her grandmother wouldn’t hear. She cried for all the hurt she’d gone through nine years ago. She cried for the hurt she’d endured between then and now. And she cried most of all for how much it was going to hurt when she left him. Again.

What upset her the most was that she was going to hurt him too. And it really wasn’t his fault. She wished, with all her heart, that he’d find someone who could love him without reservations, could be there for him, stand by him, and not mind not being first with him. More than anything, she wished she could be that person. She couldn’t, though.

She skipped supper and stayed in her room, staring off into space, trying desperately not to think. Finally she slept and slept deeply, dreamlessly,
but awoke feeling as weary as if she hadn’t slept at all.

Gregory called her about ten and she had to take a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. “I’m fine,” she told him. “My headache’s gone.” Just not the heartache, she thought.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Okay, then.” His voice sounded doubtful. “I’ll come by after two.”

“No. I’ll meet you at church.”

“But why?”

“I just want to. Okay?”

“Sure. Whatever you want is fine with me.”

Annabelle hung up the receiver and had to force her hand to release it. She was going to have to talk to him that afternoon; that was why she wanted to meet him at the church. It was more neutral territory than her grandmother’s house. And she really didn’t want memories of Gregory’s hurt haunting Gran’s living room.

She arrived at the church at two on the button, just as Barbara Jennings, the part-time church secretary, was leaving. Annabelle forced herself to smile and chat politely for a minute, until Barbara glanced at her watch and hurried out, saying she needed to be home before her son got out of school. Once she’d left, Annabelle stood in the silent church sanctuary and breathed in the smell of
polished wood and the slight musty aroma from the twenty-year-old hymnals they still used.

She searched for some measure of peace in the quiet solace of her surroundings, but couldn’t find it. She guessed she wouldn’t find it, either. Maybe never. Steeling herself, she turned to go upstairs to Gregory’s office, only he’d come downstairs looking for her.

“Annabelle.” He walked over to her and gave her a hug, then pulled back and looked searchingly at her. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Do you have another headache? Can I do something to help?”

She sighed heavily. “Sit down, Gregory. We need to talk.”

“I don’t understand. Is something wrong?”

Lord, this was going to be harder than she’d thought. She wasn’t sure she could get the words out at all. “Gregory, I—I—well, I want you to know that I really thought, I mean I really thought I could do it. But I can’t. I just can’t.”

He took her hand, but she pulled it away. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Please, don’t.” She wrapped her hands together in her lap.

“Annabelle, for God’s sake, what’s wrong?”

There was nothing else to do but blurt it out. “Gregory, I can’t see you anymore.”

Gregory looked at her blankly. “I don’t understand. What’s happened, Annie? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Gregory. So sorry, but the answer is no. I can’t marry you.”

“What do you mean?” He looked as if he’d been struck, then he closed his eyes for a moment and composed his features. When he spoke, his voice was calm and even. “Why?”

“It wouldn’t work. I’m not cut out to be a minister’s wife. I’m not the kind of woman who wants to share her husband.”

“Does this have anything to do with the times I’ve run over to Waverly about Fleurique? I told you that Fleurique and the Save the Bay meetings were just short-term things.”

“That’s not the problem. At least, not all of it.”

“Then what is?”

She was going to have to say it, was going to
have to admit her failing. “I can’t compete with the biggest rival of all.”

“What rival? You’re not making any sense.”

“Your church. I can’t compete with your church. The people here love you, I can see that, and you love them. Your life belongs to them.” She blinked back tears. “But I can’t compete.”

“Annie, I can’t give up my church.” His words were laced with turmoil.

“No. No, I’m not asking you to. But I can’t do this. Somewhere there’s a woman who won’t mind sharing you and—”

Gregory grabbed her by the shoulders. “Don’t you dare tell me I’ll find someone else! Do you hear me?” He bit the words out and punctuated them with a little shake. “Don’t you dare!”

His tight grip hurt, but Annabelle stood passively in his grasp. She deserved his anger. God only knew, she was angry with herself.

His fingers gentled suddenly. “I don’t apologize for who I am, Annie. And I can’t promise that I won’t get called away time and again, but no one will ever love you more than I will. Please, give me a chance, sweetheart. Give us a chance. We can work this out. I know we can. We love each other.”

She walked a few steps away. “Sometimes love just isn’t enough. It wasn’t enough in college, was it? It didn’t save us then.” She felt so cold, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She had a gut feeling she might never feel warm again.

“Annie. Tell me what you want me to do, what you need me to say. I’m at a loss.”

His voice was tight with pain and it made Annabelle feel even colder. Maybe she’d get so cold that she’d become numb and wouldn’t feel the pain anymore. “There’s nothing you can do. Gregory, the fault’s not with you. You want to change the world and you just might do that one day. On the other hand, I’m happy in my little corner of it.”

“Are you? Are you, really?” He sighed, heavily, hopelessly. His eyes were dark and lusterless. “I’ve fought a lot of fights in my life, but the one thing I can’t fight is you. Dammit, Annabelle, I love you. And if that’s not enough, I don’t know what else I can say.”

“I’m sorry.” Her words, the barest whisper, floated on the air as she walked away, leaving Gregory gazing after her.

Almost paradise, Gregory thought. He’d had his taste of heaven for about two and a half weeks. Maybe some people never even had that much. And maybe they were the lucky ones because they didn’t know the bitterness it left in your soul when it was gone.

Or the hole it left in your gut. A gaping black hole that sucked everything else inside. Joy, happiness, even pain. He felt nothing. Nothing.

Except frustration. What did she want from him? She already had his heart. When they married,
she would have had his body. Did she want his soul too? God had laid claim to that years ago.

He closed his eyes and tried praying, but his thoughts were too fragmented. Then the anger began to seep in. He wanted to shout, “Dear God, how could you let me love her only to have it wind up like this?”

He’d have given up every last cause he’d ever fought for if it would have kept her with him, but his ministry wasn’t a cause. It was who he was. He could no more give up his ministry than he could give up breathing. But giving up Annabelle was like giving up his heart.

Why did she see his church as her rival? Didn’t she think he had love enough to go around? And why couldn’t she see she’d be a wonderful preacher’s wife? She was so giving and caring and full of love. She would have been terrific working with the kids. She would have been terrific working with anybody.

His head was swimming with thoughts, with pleas, with reasons. And the emotions were suddenly welling up from that emptiness deep inside him. Love, pain, despair, frustration, anger. He wanted to weep, he wanted to shake his fists at heaven, he wanted to grab Annabelle and shake her, he wanted to grab her and kiss her. What he did was shove his fists into his pockets and walk out the church door.

He walked for hours. He walked until even the fireflies had settled down for the night. He walked
until he’d narrowed his thoughts to just one thing—putting one foot in front of the other. He wound up in front of Annabelle’s again, as if his feet were programmed to end up there. It had to be well past midnight and all the lights were off.

He stood in the street and stared up at the dark windows, feeling as if they were fathomless eyes gazing into his soul and seeing that gut-deep hole that still took up so much space inside. A space filled with loneliness. Strange, he thought, how an empty hole could be filled with loneliness, which was, itself, empty. Emptiness filling emptiness. He slowly turned and headed home, wondering if there was something wrong with him that he couldn’t make Annabelle feel loved and needed.

He went to sleep with pain and woke up with pain. It was a heavy leaden weight that he carried with him all day. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, he got through that day and the next and the next. He went by Virgie’s to see Annabelle, to try to talk with her, but she’d gone to Raleigh for a few days to help her parents pack for their move to Florida.

Virgie patted his hand sympathetically and told him that maybe all Annabelle needed was a little time to work things through. She’d be back for Daisy’s wedding and maybe she’d be more amenable to hearing him out then. That gave him a week to come up with just the right words to say.