Sweet Nothings

  Silence. She sensed that he was searching for words. “You’re only feeling the same thing I’ve been feeling for weeks,” he pointed out gently. “It’s scary when it first hits you, isn’t it?” He trailed the back of a knuckle over her cheek. “Caring deeply leaves you so open to being hurt.”

  Molly glanced quickly away. “I don’t think I could live through it again. I know it sounds pathetic, but I’ve been hurt enough to last me a lifetime.”

  “You won’t ever be hurt again,” he assured her. “Not by me.”

  She gnawed the inside of her lip. “I just—” A pent-up breath rushed from her. She turned her gaze back to him. “I know I’m not being fair to you, Jake. You’re not Rodney. I’m very aware of that. But inside me—way down deep—there’s this terrified child. She believed in fairy tales and heroes once. Now, just thinking about buying into all of that again terrifies her. I try to tell her to grow up, that she’s being stupid. But I think she’s got the covers pulled over her head.”

  He grinned and nodded. “There’s a child in all of us, Molly. You’re not unique in that.”

  “Is there a child in you?”

  “More a teenager, actually. High testosterone levels, horny as hell. And I’m pretty sure the little shit’s wearing earplugs because he doesn’t hear very good, either.”

  Molly laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “What do you try to tell him?”

  “To keep his damned hands off you, to keep his eyes where they belong, and to keep his thoughts out of the gutter.”

  Molly smoothed her hands down the legs of her jeans. “I’m sorry I’ve done this to you.”

  “Do you realize how often you apologize for things that aren’t your fault?”

  “I’m nearly thirty years old. I should just sleep with you and get it over with. It’s no big deal to other women.”

  “I didn’t marry other women. I chose you.”

  “Hopefully, that wasn’t a mistake. I know I’m being ridiculous, Jake, but deep down, I’m afraid, and I just can’t shake it off.”

  “Of what?” he asked softly. “Not of me, I hope.”

  “Of course not. I’m coming to trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. It’s not that kind of fear.”

  “What kind is it, then?”

  “I’m afraid you won’t find my body attractive.” The words came hard, and Molly dug her nails into the denim of her jeans as she forced each one out. “I’m afraid you’ll pretend otherwise, but that I’ll see the truth in your eyes. Just thinking about how humiliating that would be makes me cringe. I’d rather die.”

  He gazed off across the creek, his expression solemn. Molly expected him to comment on what she’d just told him. Instead, he surprised her by saying, “I played out here as a boy. I loved it here, and I still do.” His voice had become hushed with something very like reverence. “When I want to remember the most important moments of my life, both good and bad, this is where I come. Aren’t the trees beautiful?”

  Baffled by the change of subject, she followed his gaze. The trees were indeed lovely, a grand mix of ponderosa and lodgepole pine that rose majestically against the darkening sky. “Yes, they are lovely.”

  “Which do you think is the prettiest one?”

  Molly searched the tree line. “That’s a hard one. They’re all so beautiful in their own way. I can’t really decide.”

  “That one’s a beauty.” He pointed to a ponderosa that stood straight and tall. “And just look at that one. Isn’t it grand?”

  Molly looked where he pointed next and smiled. “I’ve always loved trees of all kinds.”

  “Me, too.” He inclined his head toward a half-dead, gnarled oak growing across the field at the forefront of the forest. “But that’s the most special one of all to me. The most beautiful one, by far.”

  Bewildered, Molly stared at the tree he indicated. There was a split down the center of its once magnificent trunk, and half of its branches were dead. “What happened to it?”

  “Lightning,” he whispered. “And age, too, I guess. Time takes its toll.”

  “It looks as if it’s dying, Jake.”

  “I don’t notice that.” He rested his folded arms on his upraised knees, staring at the dying oak with a dreamy expression on his face. “We’re old friends, me and that tree. When I was little, I couldn’t climb any of the ponderosas, and the junipers hardly seemed worth the effort because they were small. But I could climb that old oak.”

  Molly tried to picture him as a child. A likeness of little Jaimie slipped into her mind. “Did you ever fall?”

  “Nah. Never once. That old tree has branches as big around as my waist. I built myself a fort up there. I think I was about six then. That poor old tree took a beating. I couldn’t swing an ax or hammer very straight, and she’s got scars all over her, way up high. Every single one of them is a memory for me. To this day, I can climb up there and go back in time, recalling a thousand afternoons and all-night sleep outs. It’s like those times happened only yesterday. I spent a lot of happy hours up there, feeling like I was on top of the world and safe from everything. A lot of sad hours, too. Whenever anything bad happened, that was where I went. It was my secret place, apart from the world.”

  Molly sighed.

  “One time, my dad nearly cut her down.” He inclined his head. “If you look, you can see how close she grows to the fence. Her big old roots were pushing up a post.”

  “What stopped him from cutting it?”

  “Me. I wrapped both arms around his leg and begged him not to. He tried to tell me there were other oaks growing on the place, that I’d never miss that silly old tree. But I finally convinced him that particular tree was special, that no other oak could take her place.” He chuckled softly. “Dad put a jog in the fence and left her to stand.”

  Molly could see the jog in the fence now that he’d pointed it out. “How sweet of him.”

  “My dad’s a good man. He has a heart of gold, for all his gruff ways.” He grew solemn again, his gaze still fixed on the tree. “The night my sister was hurt in the barrel-racing accident, I came out here when I got home from the hospital. It was about four o’clock in the morning, still dark as pitch. All that evening, I had to be strong for my mom and dad, and my younger brothers. And for Bethany, too, when she woke up.” His jaw muscle tightened. “She screamed when she realized. Just screamed and screamed. I had to hold her to the bed. I kept telling her it was going to be all right. The entire while, I knew I was lying, that nothing would ever be all right again. I loved her so much, and she was so damned beautiful. In a split second, her life had been destroyed, and there was nothing I could do to fix it. Being her big brother, I’d always fixed things for her, you know? And that night I couldn’t.”

  His voice had gone gravelly with remembered pain. Molly closed her eyes. “Oh, Jake,” she whispered.

  “Seeing her like that really shook my faith in God. I kept asking myself why. How could He let that happen? To me, maybe, but not to someone like her. She’d never done a wrong thing to anybody, and she didn’t deserve that.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I was so angry. I’d believed in God all my life, and suddenly it was all a lie, one great big joke. I needed to be alone.”

  “So you came out here.”

  He nodded. “My folks were a mess. My brothers, too. I felt like the world had ended. When I got out here, I climbed up to my old fort. The floor was rotting out, but I lay down on it anyway. It felt like home to me, a familiar, peaceful place when everything else had become a nightmare. After I cried myself dry, I cursed God and shook my fist at the sky, swearing I’d never believe in anything again. At that moment, I meant it with every fiber of my being.”

  “What changed your mind?” She had no doubt that something had. She’d never met anyone with more soul than Jake Coulter.

  He turned his gaze eastward. “Dawn broke across the sky,” he said softly. “You’ve never seen beautiful until you watch the sunrise from the top
of my old tree. I sat up there, and I swear, it felt as if the light was moving clear through me. I knew then. I just knew. Me and my old tree were seeing the face of God, and He was saying ‘good morning.’ ” He smiled at the memory. “The world hadn’t ended, after all. I knew Bethany would somehow be all right eventually, and that no matter what happened, the sun would always rise again. Life goes on. We just have to find the strength to face it sometimes, and the only way we can do that is to reach deep for faith and believe with all our hearts.”

  The conviction in his voice brought a lump to Molly’s throat. A peaceful silence fell over them. For a long while, they simply sat there, staring at the old oak. Hearing his story gave her a sense of place and history. It also revealed yet another side of this man she had grown to love. Just when she thought she’d learned all there was to know about him, he revealed another layer.

  “When you look at my tree, you probably see the dead branches and that big split down her trunk.”

  “I see more than that now,” she assured him. “I can understand why it’ll always be the most beautiful tree in the woods to you.”

  He turned his gaze back to her. “Then why can’t you understand that you’ll always be the most beautiful woman in the world to me?”

  Molly tried to look away, but she couldn’t, and her eyes began filling with tears.

  “I love you,” he whispered. “I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, Molly mine. And when I look at you, that’s all I’m ever going to see, the woman I love. It doesn’t matter if you’re perfect. To me, you will be, and that’s all that counts. It’ll be that way always. Even years from now, when you’re old and withered, I’ll see you with my heart, not my eyes. That’s just the way it is when you love someone. The imperfections don’t exist. If you see them at all, you think they’re beautiful.”

  “Oh, Jake.”

  He cupped her chin in his hand. She squeezed her eyes closed as he gently kissed her cheek. Then he released her. A moment later, she heard his clothing rustle and knew he’d pushed to his feet. The wind whistled through the trees, its song lulling her and wrapping around her like an embrace.

  “You gave the bastard ten years,” he said huskily. “Don’t let him ruin the rest of your life. Reach deep, Molly mine. Have some faith in me.”

  He left her then, his words replaying in her mind long after the sound of his footsteps faded away. “Have some faith in me.” More tears welled in Molly’s eyes. She stared across the clearing at the old oak, wanting so badly to go after him, but lacking the courage to do it.

  When several minutes had passed, she pushed to her feet, scaled the fence, and walked across the pasture. When she reached the other stretch of wire, she gazed up into the oak, taking in the tangle of dead and living branches. The tree was huge, at least four feet in diameter at its base, with a towering height bearing testimony to its impressive age. Way up high, she could see the rotted remains of Jake’s childhood tree fort. On the tree’s massive trunk, she saw carvings in the rough bark, some of them weathered with age and others that looked fairly new. Slipping through the barbed wire, she moved closer to read the inscriptions.

  A smile touched her mouth. Jake had chiseled a chronicle of his life on this old tree. One carving commemorated his graduation from college, reading, PIGSKIN, 1993, in painstakingly shaped, small block letters. Another inscription said, MY BEST FRIEND, PEDRO, 1976–1983. The letters weren’t as even, indicating a boy’s less accomplished skill with a knife. Counting back, Molly figured that Jake had been about thirteen at the time. Touching the dates, she wondered who Pedro had been. She guessed that he had died and that Jake had loved him so much he had tried to immortalize him in this special place.

  It was the strangest feeling, reading those old inscriptions. Molly felt as if she were snooping through a personal journal that held all the secrets of Jake Coulter’s heart. The freshest-looking inscription on that side of the tree recorded the birth of his nephew, SLY, APRIL, 2001. Molly touched that date as well, recalling the tenderness she’d seen on his dark face when he held the baby in his arms. A tight sensation filled her chest as she moved further around the tree, taking in other inscriptions, some old, some new. Every major event of his life, both joyous and sad, had been recorded, including the dates of Bethany’s accident and her marriage to Ryan Kendrick.

  It was incredible, making her want to smile and cry, both at once. High in the network of huge branches, she could even see the crusted wounds that had been left in the bark by a little boy’s ax blade. She pictured Jake as a child, struggling on a summer afternoon to drag boards up there and build a miniature mansion in the sky. From that point on, he’d spent much of his time in this place, and every mark on the tree was a memory.

  As Molly turned to leave, she spied what looked like fresh cuts on the other side of the old oak’s trunk. She stepped around to better examine them. What she saw nearly took her to her knees. It was a recently carved heart. Inside, he had chiseled out the words MOLLY, MY LOVE, 2001.

  “Oh, Jake,” she whispered shakily.

  She lightly traced the engraving. Judging by the freshness of the cuts, he’d done this recently. She imagined him, laboring with his knife, recording yet another memory on his tree so he could come here years from now and remember the moment as if it were yesterday. Molly, my love. She could almost hear him whispering the words, his voice deep and raspy with emotion. If ever she had wished for irrefutable proof that he really loved her, this was it. She’d become part of the chronicle, her name inscribed in his secret place, never to be erased or forgotten.

  Recalling the story he’d told her about the night of Bethany’s accident, Molly wrapped her arms around herself and tipped her head back to gaze at the sky through the network of old branches. She couldn’t say that she actually saw the face of God, but she did see and feel the incredible beauty of Creation all around her. And she came face to face with an undeniable truth.

  Years from now, when Jake Coulter returned to this special place and looked at the carving that bore her name, she didn’t want to be nothing more than a fond memory in his mind.

  She wanted to be the woman who stood beside him.

  True to his word, Jake helped Molly cook dinner that night, and after the meal was over, he rolled up his sleeves to wash the dishes. Standing beside him, Molly waited with a dishtowel in her hands and butterflies in her stomach while he rinsed a large pot and slipped it in the drainer. Watching him, she tried to think how to best broach this conversation, but every idea she came up with seemed dumb, and she discarded it.

  Finally she simply blurted, “I’ve reached a decision.”

  Scrubbing a blue Pyrex baking dish, he paused in his work to fix a questioning gaze on her. “You’ve reached a decision about what?”

  Molly gulped. Her hands tightened on the dishtowel. “That I’ll have sex with you.”

  He almost dropped the baking dish. To his credit, he quickly recovered. “When?” he asked, his eyes glinting.

  Molly hadn’t planned the time and place. “I, um—whenever you’d like. Tonight, I guess. If you want to, that is.”

  “If I want to?” He grinned slowly. “Do I have to finish the dishes first?”

  Molly. Jake had been in so many relationships that he’d forgotten what it was like to be with a woman who was shy and hesitant. After they finished up the dishes, she thought of last-minute tasks to delay the inevitable. The rug by the back door needed to be shaken out. She called Bart in and spent ten minutes chasing him around the kitchen to brush his teeth. A stove burner needed a quick scrub. Her hands were trembling so that she could barely hold onto the steel wool pad.

  He thought about fetching the leftover bottle of champagne from the fridge and cracking it open, anything to help her relax, but he was afraid it would take a bathtub of bubbly to cure what ailed her. He didn’t want her numb with drink the first time he made love to her.

  “Molly, we don’t have to do this tonight if you’d r
ather wait,” he finally offered, praying to God and all His angels that she wouldn’t take him up on it.

  “Oh, no,” she said shakily. “I want to.”

  Jake had seen people more enthusiastic about having major surgery. He schooled his expression, biting back a smile. The last thing he wanted was for her to think, even for a moment, that he was amused by her nervousness. Just the opposite was true. It caught at his heart and made him want to hug her.

  Once upstairs, she stood by the bed, fixed worried eyes on him, and reached with violently trembling hands to unbutton her blouse.

  “Sweetheart,” he said cautiously, “this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.”

  “It isn’t?” Her voice was little more than a squeak.

  “No, it isn’t,” he assured her. Stepping close, he caught her wrists and bent to kiss the corner of her mouth, which was also tremulous. Was she quivering this way all over? The thought ignited his imagination. “It’s not an official unveiling. We’re supposed to kiss and—” He pressed his face against her hair. “It’s supposed to happen naturally.”

  “No,” she said faintly. “Not this time, Jake. I, um—I need for you to see me first. That way, if you don’t like me, we can just call it off.”

  Sweet Lord. She was so sweet and beautiful. How on earth could she believe that he could fail to like her? As if like were an appropriate word? He wanted her in a way he’d never wanted anyone. He also preferred to unwrap her himself. Nevertheless, he could tell by the determined ring in her voice that she needed to do this. In some convoluted reasoning, she had concluded that this was the only way she could slay her demons.

  Sighing, Jake stepped back, lifting his hands in defeat. “All right. Have it your way.”