Page 73 of Whispers of Helena
“Eli, it wasn’t supposed to be this way.” My voice shakes. “We should be living. We should have been making more babies, celebrating birthdays, building a damn life. But now—” My hands knot in my hair as the frustration boils over. “Now, all that’s left is this ranch, these cattle, and this fucking house.”
Eli steps in front of me, fingers curling into fists. “You listen to me, you fucking idiot. You have things far more important than those. You have your son, and you have that woman. A woman who fights for you. A woman who loves you so much that she stood there and watched you fall for someone else, yet she stayed. Because that’s what they told her to do. And you”—he jabs a finger at my chest—“ran off your whole damn world.”
His words punch through my ribs, sharp and unrelenting.
“Men spend their whole lives searching for what you and Caroline had. And now, she’s giving you the chance to have it for eternity.” He shakes his head in disgust. “And here you are, throwing it away because you’re too much of a coward to accept it.”
I turn away, jaw clenched, lifting my chin to keep the tears from spilling. “I’m not the man she fell in love with. I didn’t deserve her then, and I sure as hell don’t deserve her now.”
Eli scoffs. “That’s a cop-out. Stop drowning in your damn self-pity. Stop wallowing in the past. Grow a pair and rise to the challenge.” He takes a step closer, voice like steel. “Be the goddamn man she deserves,” he challenges through his teeth.
And then, the door slams behind him.
I drop into the chair, head in my hands, the pressure of it all bearing down until I can hardly breathe.
Wailing
Helena
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:8
“For the loveof all things holy, don’t you ever sleep?”
Ruth shuffles into the kitchen, her gray curls tumbling over her shoulders, a fluffy pink robe cinched tightly around her waist.
I glance up from my coffee, guilt settling in. “Sorry, did the coffee maker wake you?”
She shakes her head. “No, but your wailing did.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “You could hear that?”
Ruth gives me a knowing look as she pours herself a cup and lowers into the chair across from me. “Sweetheart, I hear most everything. Now, tell me, what had you crying out to God at two-fifteen in the morning?”
I stare into my cup, fingers tightening around the ceramic. “I miss him. I was so close. Did you know he let me give him Bible verses to help with his temper?” My voice cracks, shoulders sinking. “Now it’s been a week, and Eli says he hasn’t even said my name.”
Ruth gives me an encouraging smile. “You think that man can just cut ties and never think of you again? Caroline, he’s adjusting. A lot hit him all at once.”
I shake my head, my chest tight. “What if I really did ruin everything? What if God set me up for failure from the start?”
Ruth studies me over her cup. “Do you truly believe that?”
I need more coffee and something to do with my hands, so I push back from the table. As I refill my cup, I stare at the cabinet, my heart pounding at the thought of saying it out loud. But the words press against my throat, demanding to be freed.
“I do.”
Ruth is beside me in an instant, her hand rubbing slow circles over my back. “Oh, my sweet girl. God doesn’t set us up to fail. He never gives us more than we can handle. He wants all His children to come to Him—including Silas.”
I turn to her, searching her face. “Ruth, tell me the truth. The Everlys. Was it Silas who killed them?”
Her expression tightens. “Caroline?—”
“No,” I retort harshly. “Tell me.”
A beat of silence. Then, she looks me in the eye, something tender and almost apologetic there.
“Yes. It’s been him.”
