The Tender Vine (Diamond of the Rockies #3)(15)

Quillan looked down at his plate, certain the food would now taste like sawdust, just recompense for his thoughts. But it didn’t. It still tasted good if not remarkable. He wondered what Carina was thinking, but glancing up, found her nibbling at her portion with little interest. “You need to eat, Carina.”

She shrugged. “You sound like Mae.”

“Mae’s a wise woman.”

Carina sighed, pushed the tray away. “I’m not hungry.”

He knew better than to force it. He stood and took the tray from the bed and set it on the table. Maybe in a while she would want it. But when he’d finished his and looked up again, she was asleep. It seemed she was getting an inordinate amount of sleep, but then, her body had a lot of healing to do. Gently he removed the extra pillows from behind her head until she was lying down. He pulled the covers over her shoulders, then extinguished the light and got into bed, careful not to jostle or touch her.

He’d spent the day in prayer, hoping the Lord would make things clear. He’d asked to know God, to understand His purpose. And he did seem to grasp something more. The words of the gospels were planted deeply in his mind, held there by the special gift of memory he’d possessed from his youth. He settled into sleep, trusting the rest would come with time.





FIVE

Duty is a cowardice by which a man eludes, the deeper call of heart and soul a woman’s love exudes.

From her deep unfathomed well, he marches straight and tall.

Certain in resolve and zeal, “darling, I must” the clarion call.

—Quillan

WAKING AT THE SOUND of the door opening, Carina watched Quillan go out with Cain’s dog—now Quillan’s—to prepare for his trip. In her silent thoughts, she had begged God to side with her, to force Quillan to stay, but all God had said was, I am sufficient. Bene. Once again she was alone. She sulked. “Is this all I will have, Signore? Am I to be alone? Will you never be finished punishing me? Oh, why did I ever leave Sonoma?” A pang so sharp it vied with her physical injuries stabbed her heart. “I want to go home, Signore.”

But wasn’t that what Quillan was trying to accomplish? Why did she take his efforts as a personal affront? Because she didn’t trust him. How could she? He had deserted her, left her alone to face—She recalled the attack, which had damaged equally her heart and spirit. And her baby.

She clutched her belly. How could she ache so for a child she’d never seen? A child conceived in error, spite, and anger. How could she long for its tiny flutters inside her? How could she not? Even so early, she had treasured the presence inside her. She covered her face and wept.

If God was sufficient, why did she hurt so? She thought of Quillan lying beside her in the bed last night, his back against her like a wall. He had not reached for her, not held her. He felt guilty perhaps, sorry to repentance, but he didn’t love her. How could he love her and not sense her need?

Carina cried harder. “Now I understand, Signore, how sins, even though forgiven, carry a price. How much better it would have been had I never left home, never tried to punish Flavio’s infidelity, never sought my own way.”

Oofa!

Only once or twice had Carina experienced God’s direct chastisement, and the word in her mind sobered her now.

Daughter, I am sufficient. I Am.

Carina’s breath heaved in her chest as the words sank in. The promise was so astounding. Here was God, the God of the universe, promising to be whatever she needed. And she could sulk?

Chastened, Carina crossed herself. “Forgive me, Signore! What a fool I am! Oh, Dio . . .” Peace permeated and surrounded her.

How long she sat and basked, feeling its healing power, she couldn’t say, only that when Quillan came back through the door, she smiled so sincerely, he stopped and stared at her.

“What?” His stance was defensive, and sensing that, Sam circled him, then faced her as well, eyes earnest.

“Do you think something is wrong because I smile at my husband?”

Quillan stood silently, then, “Have you changed your mind?”

“Yes. No. Actually, God has.”

He raised his brows. “God has what?”

“Changed my mind and my heart. I’m not angry.”

Quillan advanced and stood beside the bed. When he was gone, she would picture him there, looking exactly as he looked now. “Then you’re not upset I’m going?”

She shook her head, thankful she could give him that. He would not have to stew over her while he made the treacherous trip to Fairplay.

He stayed still and silent so long, her smile faded. “Don’t you believe me?”

He nodded, still unspeaking.

Why was he upset? She could feel his tension. “What is it?”

Lowering his face, he said, “Nothing. I’m glad you don’t mind. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Her laugh surprised even herself. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Quillan’s face bristled suddenly, and again the air crackled between them. “What am I supposed to say? Do you think I didn’t see Makepeace leaving?”

“Alex?” Her stupefaction was not feigned. “Leaving where?”

“Here. Leaving your door and walking away as though the devil were on his heels.”

Now she understood. “Well, I don’t know anything about that. I never saw him.”