Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(41)

Then she remembered the way he laid his head on her shoulder and wept right after the baby was born, the way he slipped his arms around her waist when she cried at Matt’s grave, the way he held her and the baby close for a few long moments before saying goodbye…And the tears came. How had she let this happen? Why can’t I just want the man who wants me—instead of the man who has no room in his life for me?

Sometime in the dark of night, Cameron was awakened by odd, faint sounds. He opened his eyes and listened. The baby, he thought. He sat up. But that wasn’t a baby crying, he realized. He got out of bed and crept closer to the door that separated him from Vanni. She was weeping. Crying soft, muffled, sad tears.

He pushed gently on the door and it opened—she hadn’t locked it. Maybe she did trust him, he thought. He pulled on his pants and went to her room. “Vanessa,” he whispered.

She moved in her bed. She sniffed. “Cameron?” she asked.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” she whispered back.

He went to her bed and sat on the edge. He looked down at eyes that, even in the darkness of her room, were filled and overflowing, her nose pink. “God, Vanessa, if I made you cry, I’ll hate myself.”

“It’s not your fault. You’re completely innocent. You’ve been wonderful. I think too much sometimes. I have to learn to let some things go.”

“Oh, honey,” he said, pulling her close. “It’s all right. These things take time.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“You don’t have to be sorry. I knew—we both knew—you’ve had so much to deal with, to try to put into perspective. It’s okay.” He crawled onto the bed and, on top of the coverlet, slipped an arm under her head to hold her. “You take your time, Vanni. There’s lots of time.”

She turned in his arms and cried against his bare chest, and he held her, understanding the pain. He ached for her. The woman had buried the husband of her heart right before delivering his child. Moving on to the next part of her life wasn’t going to be that easy.

He didn’t care. He was willing to go through this with her, because this was exactly the kind of woman he wanted in his life. A woman who could show commitment this powerful, emotion this deep, love this enduring.

When he woke hours later, still on her bed, he saw her across the room, her nightgown slipped down to nurse her baby. As she looked down at her son while she fed him, a tear glistened on her cheek. She was having trouble leaving her spouse behind, and every time she looked at her son it would serve as a reminder.

It was not the morning after he had imagined or hoped for. He went to his room to shower. Then he had a nice breakfast delivered to the room, but he excused the waiter so they could be alone. He held the baby against him as Vanni picked at her food and sipped her coffee. “Are you feeling any better?” he asked her.

“A little bit,” she said. “God, Cameron. You don’t deserve this.”

“I told you, I understand. But I think we should go home. I think maybe you could use some time alone. I don’t think being with me right now is helping much.”

She reached across the table to touch his hand. “I don’t want you to think it wasn’t a wonderful weekend. For a while there, I really was far away. I needed that.”

“It came with a little pain. That’s the last thing I wanted for you.”

“I know. I’m the one who should have known better.”

“I have to believe it’ll just keep getting easier.”

“Probably,” she said. But she didn’t say it with much confidence.

The ride back from the coast was pretty quiet in Cameron’s car. He attempted conversation a few times, but Vanni didn’t have much to say. They had to pull into a rest stop for a while for Vanni to nurse and change the baby, so he walked around outside, giving her privacy. He stayed close, feeling protective. He reached across the console to hold her hand a few times as they drove, and she squeezed his hand affectionately, but she smiled at him with regret and sadness in her eyes and it filled him with a foreboding. He had wanted their weekend together to be just the beginning, but he had a feeling it was going the other way.

It was about two in the afternoon when they came up to the general’s house. Cameron stopped short of the drive. Parked outside the circular driveway in a nice neat row were the general’s SUV, Tommy’s little truck, Paul’s big truck.

Vanessa stared at the vehicles, gazing out the window, her mouth set in a serious line. Waiting on the front stoop was Paul. He stood as Cameron’s car came into view and Vanessa’s eyes were locked on him. He had something in his hand, like a pebble or sliver of wood that he tossed. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and looked anxiously at Vanessa. “Damn,” Cameron said. “I’m such an idiot.”

Vanessa turned to look at Cameron. She lifted her chin. There it was, in her eyes. All of it.

“It wasn’t your husband’s memory that made you cry,” he said, suddenly understanding so much more than he wanted to. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because,” she said, tears threatening to fill her eyes. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” he asked, indicating Paul.