Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
W ith sleep slow in coming, Aaron rose and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He checked his phone. His mouth tightened at the blank space where the signal bars should stairstep up. How dependent he was on technology that he expected to be connected to Wi-Fi. He wasn’t connected and wouldn’t be for a while. Closing his eyes, he thanked God that he, Belle and her children were safe. God had engraved them in the palm of His hand.
Releasing a slow breath, he moved down the stairs past the partially completed jigsaw puzzle. A sound coming from the kitchen made his head come up. He walked quietly to the archway.
Belle stood in front of the kitchen window. Both her hands were braced against the counter. Moonlight streaming through the window silhouetted her curls and the curve of her cheek and made him swallow hard. Even the night couldn’t conceal her loveliness.
How long before Chad realized the prize he’d forfeited—a prize Aaron would never have let slip through his fingers?
Through work and competing in rodeos, he’d met plenty of women—and he’d learned to keep his distance. He wasn’t interested, and he didn’t want someone to think he was. Standing before him was the reason why. Belle had been the bar he’d set. He’d yet to meet someone who reached her level—her grace, her dignity, her compassion. Maybe they hadn’t met her level because he hadn’t given them a chance.
His mouth dried. He wouldn’t think about Belle’s marriage or the regret Chad would one day face. He had his own life to live. He’d given up long ago asking God to rid him of his feelings for Belle. He was in love with the woman. Nothing would change that.
“Couldn’t sleep?” His tone was low and ragged and made Belle gasp and face him.
“I didn’t hear you.” She pressed a hand to her chest.
He couldn’t see her face but imagined her heavily lashed eyes fluttering, then closing.
“Sorry,” he muttered and looked away. He hadn’t meant to startle her.
“And no, I couldn’t sleep. You either?” She picked up her glass and stepped away from the counter, her movements elegant and fluid—like a dream.
“No.” He remained in the archway. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Finally, he dragged his gaze away. “I was checking the signal.”
“I checked my phone, too.” Her slight laugh seemed amused at the coincidence. “I couldn’t get one.”
“Yeah.” He pushed fingers through his hair. “It’ll probably be another day or two.”
“Do landslides happen here often?” she asked, making him remember she wasn’t from Sweet Mountain, though it had seemed like she was since she and her parents spent most of their summers here.
She’d made friends with the locals and had attended festivals and fairs and rodeos. She fit in, though he’d heard from others that she spent her school years studying abroad or cruising with her parents through the Indonesian archipelagos or the Great Barrier Reef—places where he’d backpacked.
“Not often, but they happen,” he said remembering when he and the crews rescued families from their cabins and hikers and campers from the forest and canyons. “Especially during the spring when snow melts and loosens the ground.”
Even in the dark, he could sense the shiver coursing through her. The urge to hold her close made his jaw set. She was married. He wouldn’t interfere, no matter the state of her relationship with her husband. God had His own plan. He’d brought him and Belle together, despite the reason. For her sake and her children’s sake, he’d trust God for a healing in her marriage.
“Do you want something to drink?” Her head twisted to the cupboards, then back to him.
“I’ll get it.” He moved to the counter.
He used the moonlight to see the glasses and selected one, then stepped to the refrigerator. The glass filling with water made him realize another miracle God had performed. They had plumbing. Because they had propane, they had hot water.
And they hadn’t had another landslide. Rarely was there one landslide as the first one could trigger others until the terrain settled.
What about the other people in the valley? He prayed God was with each one.
“We’re so fortunate,” she murmured as if more to herself. Her trembling increased.
“Hey.” He set his glass on the counter and stepped to her.
He couldn’t let her suffer with the realization of what might have happened. She’d watched her family’s cabin burn to the ground. Now they’d narrowly missed the landslide’s brutal onslaught. He’d seen what damage could be done. If he could get out of here, he’d be helping the crews put out fires, rescue the stranded and dig through rubble.
“It’s all right.” Slowly, gently, he smoothed his hands over her arms, around her shoulders and pulled her close.
He loved the feel of her—soft and warm and making him suck in a breath. She fit perfectly in the curve of his chest. He closed his eyes, relishing every inch of her body pressed against his. Why did holding her have to feel so good?
“When I think …” Her voice choked with tears.
“Don’t do that,” he said, his tone husky and low. He held her closer still. “I know that’s easier said than done, but remember, God is with us.” Tipping away from her, he brushed the stray tendrils away from her cheeks and found her skin silky and soft.
“You’re right.” She stuttered a laugh. “It is easier said than done, though I know it’s the right thing to do.”
“Come on. Let’s sit down.” With one arm still wrapped around her waist, he guided her through the archway and into the living room. He lowered himself to the sofa taking her with him. “A lot could’ve happened, but it didn’t. We’re safe. There hasn’t been another slide, at least not here, which has to be God.”
“Another landslide?” she asked in horror.
“It’s okay.” He steadied his voice. “It didn’t happen.”
“But could it still?” she asked. The moonlight shining through the picture window showed her eyes searching his face even though it was too dark to see him.
For that he was grateful. One look into his eyes and she’d know everything—his feelings for her were an inferno burning him from the inside out.
Her trembling started again, making his blood hum.
“Everything is fine.” He pressed his mouth to her ear. “Remember that.”
She lifted her face to his. The moon cast a light over her face and her parting lips. The desire to soothe her turned into something hotter. His mind seemed to shut down. Slowly, gently, his lips touched hers. Hot tears pouring down her cheeks wet his own face. One by one, the rigid muscles in her shoulders relaxed. Her body melted into his, her need for comfort changing into a longing he wanted to satisfy.
He kissed her again—tasting her sweetness, delicate and pure.
How could anyone walk away from this woman?
The thought he didn’t want in his mind edged deeper, turning into a warning. His blood pumped hard and hot. This was a beginning that cautioned against danger. An innocent slip could leave them regretting something that could rip away the friendship he valued with her.
With strength that wasn’t his, he withdrew. He felt her confusion and wished this weren’t the right thing to do, but the ache in his soul told him to act quickly—giving in to something he desperately wanted wasn’t worth the regret.
He pushed fingers through her hair. Releasing a slow breath, he pressed her face to his shoulder. What had he done? He could think of nothing but how much he wanted to taste her, feel her. For something he selfishly wanted, he had hurt her. He’d only thought of himself, not the pain that shattered her heart. One man had wounded her. Now she could add his name to the list—the last thing he wanted.
How had wanting to help her intensified this burden she carried inside herself?
Her trembling cracked his heart. Her tears didn’t stop. They seeped through his shirt, making him grimace. He shut his eyes and tipped his face up.
Forgive me, Lord.
Her heart was broken and that broke his.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was raw, making him wince.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said raggedly. His finger at her chin, he tipped her face to his. Her tear-stained face made him want to kiss away each tear. “I shouldn’t have?—”
“No.” Her eyes wide, she pressed two fingers against his lips. “It isn’t you. It isn’t anything you did.”
The tension in her shoulders eased away, making him think she had relaxed. The dullness in her eyes made him let out his breath. How deep was her pain?
“What is it?” His gaze caught hers.
“With my marriage falling apart, it would be so easy to be with you.” She looked deep into his eyes.
He knew what she meant—to fall into another relationship—a rebound relationship. He almost didn’t care. He wanted her. He’d be there for her. He was ready and willing to catch her when she fell. Since high school, he’d been willing.
That wouldn’t be God’s plan. He was there to catch her. She needed to depend on Him. If Aaron stood in God’s way, he’d rob Belle of the blessing God had in store for her, which would be spiritual as well as emotional growth.
How many times had he been in that situation? Belle had never been interested in him, but he’d seen the look in other women’s eyes. They were willing to be there for him—maybe in the hopes they could change his feelings for Belle and love them instead.
It would have been easy to take advantage of such willingness. Those were the moments he turned to God and begged him to take away the desires that burned inside.
The desires remained. His relationship with God deepened. Had this weak moment with Belle destroyed the years of work God had completed in him? Why hadn’t God removed all the desires?
Because he wasn’t willing to let them go.
When he wasn’t near Belle, he forgot his feelings for her.
Then she waltzed back into his life—more like steamrolled when her parents’ cabin caught fire. He had visited her in the emergency department. He should’ve realized then the warning bells were sounding.
“It takes two.” His tone was husky.
Her perfectly oval face lifted to his.
He gave a soft snort. She still had no idea how he’d felt about her over the years.
A gentle rumble sounded. He stilled and listened.
“Thunder?” She went rigid in his arms. Even as she asked the question, there was doubt.
“We’re going upstairs.” His arm around her shoulders, he held her close as they rushed up the steps and down the gallery.
“Mom?” Kelsey’s voice shook. Her shadowy figure stood in the doorway to her room.
The other bedroom door opened. The moonlight streaming through the skylight silhouetted Lyle wearing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He rubbed one eye.
Aaron’s mouth flattened. He released his hold on Belle. She raced to Kelsey and wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, then extended her other hand to Lyle, who rushed to her side.
“Let’s stand in the loft,” Aaron said without inflection.
Holding her children close, Belle ran to him. He drew her close and guided the three of them to the loft.
“Is this another landslide?” Lyle’s voice was thin.
Aaron felt Belle’s and Kelsey’s intense stare.
“I’m not sure.” He hated being vague, but panic wasn’t the solution. His heart drumming, he situated Belle and her children in the middle of the loft. “You stay here. I’ll try to find out what’s going on.”
“What will you do?” Belle’s voice was controlled, but he sensed her fear. Her children would, too.
“Everything will be fine.” How did he explain this feeling? Because as a believer he knew that even if the landslide swept over them, they’d be in a better place.
He would say nothing. Belle feared for her children. He wouldn’t discount what she felt.
The rumble had sounded in the distance. This landslide could be farther down the valley, but he couldn’t give them false hope. He had to make sure. With one last look at Belle, her face pale in the moonlight, he bounded down the stairs, strode through the living room to the kitchen, then stepped out the back door to the deck.
The night was quiet. Crickets chirped.
The breath he’d been afraid to release rushed from his lungs. If the crickets were enjoying the night, the rumble he’d heard earlier had to be in a different area of the mountain. His eyes closed. He prayed for safety for everyone in the valley.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, more from habit than expecting to see a connection. The signal bars stair-stepped up in the corner of the phone’s screen, stilling his heart.
He turned. He didn’t trust his eyes. Glancing at the moon, he angled his phone to capture its light. His phone had full signal strength.
Thank you, Lord.
He dialed his chief’s phone number.
“Aaron?” came Captain Longworth’s surprised voice.
“Chief!” Relief poured over Aaron like a flood. He hadn’t expected to hear an outside voice—ever. “How’s it going?” His tone softened.
“How’s it going.” The captain laughed dryly. “Where are you?”
“At my cabin—up Gold Dust Road,” Aaron said.
“That’s the heart of the landslide,” the captain said in surprise. “How did you survive?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Aaron rested his forehead between his thumb and forefinger.
“Yeah,” the captain sounded perplexed. “Like a few stories I’ve heard already.”
“God is merciful.” Aaron breathed.
“Yeah,” The captain’s voice sounded as in awe as Aaron felt. “The power company just restored the cell towers. You picked the perfect time to check your phone.”
“It’d be hard to miss since I’ve been checking it every five minutes.” Aaron’s laugh held no humor. “What does the rest of the valley look like?”
“As you can imagine.” The pain in the captain’s voice made Aaron exhale roughly. “No fatalities, thank God, but the emergency department is packed, as are the ones in the surrounding areas. Some campers were caught in the middle of it. The town was spared, as was your family’s ranch. There’ve been a few fires, but nothing like what we’ve seen in the past.”
Aaron closed his eyes. “I’ll call my folks and let them know I’m all right. What are the roads like around my cabin? Any chance I can get out?”
“It’s going to be a couple of days,” the captain said. “The road crews have made a dent. Crews from all over the state are here digging so they’re making short work of it. I know it seems like it’s moving slowly, but once you get out and see the extent of the slide, you’ll understand.”
A couple more days of being trapped with Belle—being near her and struggling to resist her. Thank God her children were here.
“I can already imagine.” Aaron’s voice was bleak. “Still, I’m sorry I can’t be there to help.”
“Don’t worry about that,” the captain said. “We have plenty.”
The distant sound of the alarm broke through Aaron’s phone.
“Sounds like duty calls.” Aaron’s fingers tightened on his phone.
“Indeed it does,” the captain said. “Stay in touch. Now that I know you have service, I’ll send updates when I get them.”
“Thanks, Chief, and tell the crew I’m praying for them,” Aaron said.
“As we are for you.”
Aaron ended the call and dropped the phone to his side. He had to tell Belle they were safe—for now. He called his parents to let them know he, Belle and the children were fine and make sure they were.
“Aaron?” Belle’s musical voice sounded behind him.
“Belle.” Aaron whirled around.
She stood in the doorway, Kelsey and Lyle at her side.
“My phone has a signal. I spoke with the fire chief.” He looked away from her delicate face. His smile in place he looked at her children. “We’re safe.”
He wouldn’t add for now. Belle was bright enough to know things could change in a moment. Any elaboration could alarm her already frightened children.
“Thank God,” she said with a soft sigh.
Her children relaxed, too.
“You need to get some sleep,” he said. “All of you do.”
Belle nodded and turned her children toward the archway.
“Does that mean everything’s going to be okay?” Lyle asked, hope in his words.
“What about that noise?” Kelsey asked.
“We’re safe.” Belle guided her exhausted children through the kitchen. “We’ll all go to bed so we’ll feel better in the morning.”
Aaron waited until they disappeared, then stepped into the house.
Closing the door, he listened to their disappearing voices and soft steps on the stairs.
He looked out the window into the night and thanked God for His protection and grace.