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“Exactly like this. Because you only want what’s best for people. And right now what’s best for me is to be alone.”
The rain was falling more heavily now. She could see his internal scales working away. Weighing the pros and cons. Wanting to do the right thing. Always do the right thing. That’s how he was made. And by letting him see how much he’d hurt her, she couldn’t have hurt him more.
A crack of lightning split the air. He pulled her up the steps and beneath the overhang above the church doors. She jerked away. “Leave! Can’t you at least do that?”
“Please, Meg. We’ll sort this out. We just need a little time.” He tried to touch her face, but when she flinched, he let his arm drop to his side. “You’re upset. And I understand. Later tonight, we’ll—”
“No. Not tonight.” Not tomorrow. Not ever.
“Listen to me. Please . . . I have meetings all day tomorrow with Spence and his people, but tomorrow night, we’ll . . . We’ll have dinner at my house where there won’t be any interruptions. Just the two of us. We’ll both have had time to think about all this, and we can talk it through.”
“Right. Time to think. That’s going to fix everything.”
“Be fair, Meg. This has come out of nowhere. Promise me,” he said roughly. “Unless you promise to meet me tomorrow night, I’m not going anywhere.”
“All right,” she said woodenly. “I promise.”
“Meg . . .”
Once again he tried to touch her, and once again she resisted. “Just go. Please. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
He studied her for so long she didn’t think he’d leave. But eventually he did, and she stood at the top of the church stairs, watching him drive away in the rain.
When he was out of sight, she did what she hadn’t been able to do before. She walked around the side of the church and broke a window. A single pane she could reach through to unfasten the latch. Then she shoved the window open and climbed into her dusty, empty sanctuary.
He expected her to meet him tomorrow night for a calm, logical discussion about her unrequited love. She’d promised him.
As a clap of thunder shook the building, she thought how easily that kind of promise could be broken.
In the choir loft, she found a pair of jeans Dallie and Skeet had overlooked when they’d packed up her things. There was still food in the kitchen, but she had no appetite. Instead, she paced the old pine floor and thought of everything that had brought her to this moment. Ted couldn’t change who he was. Had she really believed he could love her? How could she have thought, even for a moment, that she was different from the rest?
Because he’d shown her parts of himself he’d never shown anyone else, and that had made her feel different. But it had all been an illusion, and now she had to leave because staying here was impossible.
The thought of never seeing him again nearly made her crumple, so she focused on the practicalities. The old, irresponsible Meg would have jumped in her car that night and run off. But her new, improved version had obligations. Tomorrow was her day off, so no one would be expecting her at work, and she had time to do what she need
ed to.
She waited until she was sure Skeet would be asleep before she returned to his house. As his snores rumbled down the hallway, she sat at the desk in his office where she’d been working on her jewelry and picked up a yellow pad. She made notes for whoever would take over the drink cart, explaining how best to stock it, listing the preferences of the regulars, adding a few lines about recycling cups and cans. Maybe her job wasn’t brain surgery, but she’d more than doubled the revenue from the drink cart, and she was proud of that. At the end, she wrote, A job is what you make it. But she felt foolish and crossed it out.
As she finished a bracelet she’d promised Torie, she tried not to think about him, but that was impossible, and by dawn, when she slipped the bracelet into a padded envelope, she was bleary-eyed and exhausted, sadder than she could ever remember.
Skeet was eating his Cap’n Crunch at the kitchen table, the sports page propped in front of him, when she came out. “Good news,” she said, forcing a smile. “My stalker has been identified and neutralized. Don’t ask me for details.”
Skeet looked up from his cereal. “Ted know about this?”
She struggled against the wave of pain that threatened to drown her whenever she thought of never seeing him again. “Yes. And I’m moving back into the church.” She didn’t like lying to Skeet, but she needed an excuse to pack up her things without arousing his suspicions.
“Don’t see why you need to hurry off,” he grumbled.
As he returned to his Cap’n Crunch, she realized she’d miss the old curmudgeon, right along with a lot of other people in this crazy town.
Lack of sleep and too much pain had worn her out, and she’d barely started packing before she gave in and lay down. Despite her bleak dreams, she didn’t awaken till early afternoon. She finished packing quickly but still didn’t get to the bank until nearly three o’clock. She withdrew all but twenty dollars from her meager account. If she closed the account, every teller in the place would start quizzing her, and five minutes after she walked out the door, Ted would know she was leaving. She couldn’t bear another confrontation.
The town’s only mailbox sat by the front steps of the small post office. She mailed her drink-cart notes and her letter of resignation to Barry, the assistant manager. As she dropped in the envelope with Torie’s bracelet, a car pulled into the no-parking zone. The driver’s window slid down, and Sunny Skipjack poked out her head. “I’ve been looking for you. I forgot the club was closed today. Let’s grab a drink so we can talk.”
Sunny was all sleek efficiency with her shiny dark hair and platinum jewelry. Meg had never felt more breakable. “Not a good time, I’m afraid,” she said. “I have a million things to do.” Like get in my car and turn my back on the man I love so much.
“Cancel them. This is important.”
