Chapter Sixteen
chapter-seperator
AS CASH retrieved a shovel from the bed of his truck and attempted to dig out the front wheels, Gwynn’s thoughts and emotions swirled like the snowflakes outside. Too fast to grasp. Too agitated to calm. Too enmeshed to separate.
He’d said the quiet part out loud. No stuffing the paint back into the tube now.
But to suggest she come home ? What home? Her parents were dead, the ranch most likely sold off, her childhood things gone. What could Prospect offer other than mangled memories and a black hole surrounding that night ?
He had mentioned loved ones, as well. Did he mean the Forresters—her biological aunt and uncle and her cousins? Guilt pummeled her like Holly pummeled new clay, because blocking memories of her life in Prospect had meant blocking memories of her relatives too. Would Cash tell them she was alive? How would they react? In steely anger, like he had?
Except, so far today, Cash hadn’t responded in anger. Instead, what she’d received was … well, he’d admitted it himself: forgiveness.
Cash had forgiven her.
Cash had forgiven her .
The words solidified among her spinning thoughts, and Gwynn shook her head to dislodge them. He was lying. He had to be.
She stumbled from truck against the tangle of wind, snow, and abrasive cold, and tromped through the snowdrift to where Cash shoveled behind the driver’s-side tire. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” she hollered above the wind.
He looked up and scowled. “Get back in the truck. It’s freezing out here.”
She tucked her bare hands under her folded arms and ignored her smarting cheeks. “Why would you give it to me? I didn’t ask for it.”
“Gwynn, get in the truck—”
“I withheld information from you. I misled you.”
“You had your reasons.”
“No! I mean, yes, I did, but I’m supposed to say that. You’re supposed to be furious with me. Accuse me. Call me all sorts of names. Demand explanations.”
“Believe me”—Cash straightened, looking her full in the face as snowflakes caught in his lashes—“I expect explanations. But not out here in the driving snow and arctic temps. Now get in the truck.”
She huffed out a breath. “Let me help.”
“You can help by praying.”
“Praying?”
“Yeah. Pray that my tires find traction to free us from this ditch.” He returned to shoveling, and Gwynn clambered back into the truck. She rubbed her throbbing hands together. After living years in New England, she’d forgotten how fast Montana’s sub-zero windchill could seep into the bones.
Cash wanted her to pray? A week ago, it would have been her first resort. But aside from little popcorn prayers, she’d barely talked to God since arriving in Prospect. She certainly hadn’t given Him an opportunity to talk to her . Not when she suspected He wanted to show her the very thing she didn’t wish to see.
She leaned her arms on the dash and rested her head in the crook of an elbow.
“I’m sorry for ignoring You this week. I haven’t even cracked open my Bible. Forgive me. Help me …” She sighed. “Help me to work with You rather than against You. Help me,” she added with a grumble, “to want to work with You. Bless Cash’s efforts in getting this truck unstuck. May we get back on the road, so that I can make it to the airport in time.” Her chest constricted. “Please, please let me return to Boston, Lord. I don’t want to be here any longer.”
A niggling of guilt stirred in the corner of her mind, but her current repentance didn’t go that deep, and she batted it away.
The driver’s door opened, and the interior temp dipped several degrees. “Good. You’re praying,” Cash said.
Gwynn lifted her head as he slid behind the wheel and knocked snow from his hat. “You might regret asking. I feel on the outs with God at the moment.”
“You know what they say. ‘When you feel far from God—’”
“‘Guess who moved.’ Yeah, yeah.” She studied the front windshield, where a layer of snow had built up in the time she’d been sitting there.
Cash started the truck. “Here goes …”
Gwynn squeezed her eyes as he pressed the gas pedal. The engine revved … and the tires spun.
Please, Lord. Please, Lord. Please, Lord.
Cash tried again, turning the wheel. Again, the tires spun in the snow.
Please please please.
“Wait.” Cash whipped about, reached beneath the backseat, and withdrew a blanket. He held it between them, his eyes dancing. “Traction.”
Thank you, Father!
After she helped him battle the wind and stretch out the blanket on the ground behind the two front wheels, Cash tried a third time. The wheels caught, moved, and with the momentum, the truck backed off the shoulder and onto the road.
“Yes! Thank you, Father,” Cash said, echoing Gwynn’s thought a moment earlier. Letting out a whoop, he exited the truck and rescued the blanket.
He was two points into a three-point turn when Gwynn realized his intentions. She grabbed his arm. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“Back to Prospect.” He shifted into drive and finished the turn.
“No. Cash, the airport! I can still make my flight—”
“I doubt planes are taking off today, even if we could have gotten you to the airport. And that’s a big ‘if.’” The truck rumbled through the aggressive snow, the inches piling up on the road. “The snow’s coming down too fast, and these roads are too slick. No way would we have been able to navigate the mountain pass.”
Gwynn released his arm and slumped against her seat.
Cash sent her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry.”
She huffed. “No, you’re not. You said yourself you want me to stop running and come home. But the fact is, I’m not running. I’m living my life—just not in Prospect.” She propped her elbow on the window ledge and rubbed her forehead. “Of course, now I’ll have to move because I won’t be able to afford rent because I’m going to lose my job because the next flight on this airline isn’t until Monday—oh!” An idea took hold, and she scrambled for her phone in her bag to make an online search. “If I switch airlines, I could fly out tomorrow. It’ll cost a fortune, but—”
Cash’s jaw went slack. “Erik and Dani, Duke and Lainey—they all still think you’re dead. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Gwynn fidgeted in her seat. “I only made this trip because I thought Uncle Russ was dying.”
“Russ isn’t even your real uncle! The Forresters are your kin, not the Davisons.”
She looked up from her phone. “But Russ is the one who gave me a second chance at life. He came up with a way to protect me, which allowed me to start over, away from any potential danger.” Gritting her teeth, she returned to her airline search. “As far as I’m concerned, Hadley Jacobs died nine-and-a-half years ago, and Gwynn Sadler was born. Nothing changes simply because you know they’re one and the same person.”
A long stretch of silence filled the cab. Gwynn peeked once at Cash. The muscles bunched in his jaw. Not a good sign.
“Let me get this straight,” Cash said at last, running a hand over his scruff. “You mislead me. You lie to me. You show no remorse for the money you stole or the lives that were taken, nor do you seem to care that it wrecked a lot of people who had to pick up the pieces afterward.” His words came out calm and measured, despite their heavy charges. “And even though many of us yearn for answers of what happened that night—answers you have—you’re going to go on your merry way and return to living a carefree existence across the country, never sparing a thought for the loved ones you left behind … again . Did I paint an accurate picture?”
Her vision blurred.
“So maybe you’re right,” Cash continued. “Maybe a selfish, narcissistic person like yourself doesn’t deserve forgiveness.” The muscles in his jaw bunched again. “But I’ll try to forgive you anyway.”
“Quit it!” Gwynn threw her phone into her backpack. “Quit being so sanctimonious.”
“How would you like me to behave, Hadley—”
“ Gwynn .”
Cash’s hands wrung the steering wheel. “Would you rather I yell and throw a fit?”
“If it’s closer to the truth.”
“Don’t talk to me about truth. You have no idea how furious I was last night, once I saw your scar and realized who you were— are .” His neck muscles pulsed. “I was furious with you for deceiving me, with myself for being duped, with God that He didn’t expose your lies sooner. We duked it out, God and I, for a long time after I left the Davisons’. But He reminded me I had already forgiven you a few years ago. Part of my healing process. And He wouldn’t let me renege on that. Made it clear my forgiveness shouldn’t change, whether you live or die holding the answers I seek.”
Gwynn laid her head back and sighed. “I don’t have any answers, Cash.”
“Like I’m gonna believe you when I now know you’re a chronic liar.”
“I didn’t outright lie to you. I was careful with my choice of words and—”
“Stop.” Cash held up a hand. “We’re done with this conversation.” He jabbed at the radio button. “I need to concentrate on driving.”