I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(24)

Nothing was sacred when it came to my relationship with Doug. It was me and him, and our meddling mothers. I was downright horrified when my mother ran and told Mrs. Wilson all about the birth control. Doug’s mother didn’t need to know I was having sex with her son. Ugh, where were the boundaries? My mother respected nothing.

My life spun faster and faster, things felt out of control. I was pleasing everyone but myself, and at my own expense. One morning, in the early days of summer break, after close to a year of dating someone I no longer cared to even be around, I woke up and decided to start leading an honest life. I didn’t love Doug, and it was time to tell him…and our mothers.

Unfortunately, when I went downstairs to break the news to my mother first, she showed me the guest list she’d been working on for this down-the-road, in-her-head wedding. I froze, suddenly losing my nerve. How could I fess up and tell her I didn’t want to be with her best friend’s son a minute longer? I’d shatter my mother’s dreams. Were hers more important than my own? Maybe so. They certainly loomed larger in my mind.

I was beginning to feel like I wasn’t living my own life anymore, I was living one for my mom. But I was afraid if I stopped pleasing her she’d stop loving me. She was hard like that. Always was and still is, now more than ever. And I was right to fear, her love for me was never freely given.

So, that day, I said nothing to Mom, nothing to Doug. I continued to live a lie. I stayed with someone I knew I’d never love. I think Doug sensed it too. I think he’d known for a while. He’d grown bitter, I could tell, but he stayed with me out of spite. Or maybe he stayed with me for the power it gave him. The dark side I’d sensed in him reared its ugly head. Doug began to take things out on me, he made me do things I didn’t want to do. He became pushy and mean. But I was weak, and my weakness led to disaster. Not for Doug, not for me, but for Sarah.

I wish now I’d done things differently, knowing how it all turned out, seeing how my family was torn apart. But it’s too late, what’s done is done. The biggest irony of the sad and tragic situation is that while my mother won’t speak to me, she still has contact with Doug. I may be to blame for what happened to Sarah, but Doug Wilson played a part. I guess not a big enough part to be forsaken by the woman who still calls herself my mother, even though she’s not been one to me for four long years.

I wish I’d never found out Mom speaks to Doug. It makes the ache in my heart cut deeper. But I did find out, courtesy of my father and one of our short phone conversations. I think he just slipped up, he told me the day he called that the reason he had some time alone on his hands was because my mom was out, having dinner with Mrs. Wilson and her son. She only has one son, so I knew he meant Doug. See, Doug lives in Columbus these days. My father also let out that when Doug’s mother goes into town to see her son my mother usually meets them out for dinner.

The three of them sitting around a table, laughing and smiling, while I sit here paying for all of our mistakes. Unbelievable. They can all stay in Columbus for all I care. I’m just thankful Doug doesn’t live in Harmony Creek anymore. It’s bad enough when I know he’s in town visiting his family. During those times, I avoid him at all costs. And, so far, we’ve yet to cross paths.

The rain comes to a sudden stop and breaks me from my disturbing reverie. A sliver of sun peeks out from behind a cloud. I’ve spent enough time here today, dwelling on the past.

It’s time to move on.

I comb my fingers through my dampened hair and stand. Crazy thing, my hair probably looks better all rain-damp wavy. Not that anyone will see. All the parishioners are gone for the day.

My clothes are dry, but the ballet flats are still a soggy mess. However, I am not about to walk barefoot all the way back to the car, so, with a grimace, I squish the shoes back onto my feet.

The clouds disperse as I make my way out of the cemetery. A bright blue sky is revealed, along with the promise of a beautiful day. Maybe a new beginning, I tell myself. By the time I reach the stone pathway the sun is beaming, blindingly so. I detour over the grass terrace and start across the church lot to where my car is parked. But I can’t see a thing with the sun glaring in my face.

I lower my head and fumble around in my bag, searching for the pair of knock-off designer sunglasses I bought the other day.

“Where are they?” I mumble to myself, nudging Peetie and pushing aside my hardly-ever-used makeup bag.

I spot the edge of a mirrored lens under the stuffed bunny. There. Without ever slowing my pace—or lifting my head—I victoriously lift the sunglasses out of my bag. And at that exact second I plow right into someone. “Oomph,” I cough out as I make contact with a broad, muscular chest.

I hear a smooth, male voice say, “Shit, sorry.”

At the same time, an ominous crunching noise is heard. Uh-oh, there goes the sunglasses.

All this happens in just a few seconds, and I sway a little post-impact. Two sure hands find purchase on either side of my waist, steadying me, keeping me right. What a kind stranger. I glance up—curious to see who this tall, kind man is that I’ve just wrecked into.

Shit.

I realize two things simultaneously: One, I’ve just collided with Chase Gartner. And two—dear God—the man is absolutely beautiful up close. Gorgeous, stunning, there are not enough adjectives to adequately expound. He’s just wow, just…freakin’ w-o-w.