Her bosom heaved as if she were running for her life. Her mind certainly seemed to be running from everything he was throwing at her. Maybe she was correct. Maybe it wasn’t any of his business and he had no right to intrude on the life she’d created after the tragedy of losing everything.
He couldn’t accept that. He couldn’t accept that she was truly happy cutting herself off from everyone.
“That’s something coming from ye,” she said coldly.
“Oh?”
“Aye, oh! Ye say that I’m the one who has erected barriers? What about ye? Ye’ve perfected the art of hiding yer feelings. No one can slide past that cold look.”
“I’ll admit that I wall myself off as well.” His reasons were different. He did it to survive. “And I’m lonely because of it. There are few people I trust and even fewer people I can be myself with. I trust you, Cait.”
“Ye’re no’ putting that on me. I didn’t ask for yer trust.”
“Nevertheless, you have it.”
She held her hand out to stop him. “I don’t want that.”
He was losing this battle. Possibly he was losing the war. That caused him to panic. He didn’t want to lose her, and more than that, he didn’t want her giving up on life any longer.
“That’s life, Cait. You don’t think I’ve suffered loss? I’ve lost my parents, too. And I lost John. Life is horrible and wonderful, and in between the horrible and the wonderful is the mundane, which is wonderful in its own right. It’s called life, and it’s endless, and it batters you, and when the storm is over, the sun comes up and everything is bathed in light and goodness and laughter again.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks and her hands were clenched in the folds of her gown.
“But what if the wonderful never happens again?” she whispered. “What if, for some people, life is just one big storm after another and the light never shines again? What then?”
He stepped toward her, his heart breaking at the fear and the grief and despair and loneliness in her eyes. “I believe there is always light. Sometimes it takes longer to shine, and sometimes you have to drag yourself to it, but it’s there.”
She looked up at him, those heartbreaking tears running down her cheeks. “I wish I believed what ye believe.”
“Maybe you don’t believe it now, but if you give me a chance I’ll show you.”
She huffed out a laugh and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. “Ye’re incorrigible.”
“It’s my worst trait.”
“No’ yer worst.”
“And what would my worst be?” He wanted to hug her tightly but held back.
“Ye always think ye’re right.”
“That’s not a bad trait to have. If I think I’m right, then people do as I say.”
“Is that yer secret, then? Just plow yer way through?”
“I never thought of it that way, but I guess it is.”
“That’s very brave and very stupid of ye.”
“I never said I was smart, just stubborn.”
“And incorrigible.”
“And incorrigible.”
She drew in a shaking breath. Her face was pale, and she seemed about to fall over.
“Come here,” he said softly, holding his hand out to her.
