“I’m sorry, Colt,” she said against the warmth and strength of his chest. “I’m doing the best I can, and I’m sorry it’s not good enough for you.”
His arms came around her too, and Elaine could sink into his strength and warmth. “It’s fine, honey,” he whispered. “Whatever you want is good enough. I just want you to be happy and whole.”
Elaine pulled back on her emotions, and she sniffled as she pulled away. “I want that too.” He simply looked at her, and Elaine really wondered what he saw. “Maybe I’ll go see a therapist,” she said.
Colt nodded. “I can drive you there if you need me to, just to make sure you won’t have to run into him.”
Tears pricked her eyes, and she reached up and pushed her bangs off her forehead and exhaled as everything fell back into place. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Yeah, of course.” He gave her the rugged, lopsided smile she’d grown to appreciate. “Enjoy your baby time.”
A laugh burst out of her mouth, and she bent to pull baby Zuke out of the shade so she could take him back inside. Colt lifted his hand in a wave, and then turned around and left the front porch.
Elaine watched him go, waving one more time once he’d climbed into his truck and started it up. He backed out of the driveway and drove down the street, and Elaine watched and watched and watched until she couldn’t see his pick-up anymore.
She didn’t want to cause a problem for Colt, but she really didn’t know what to do.
She’d prayed for closure and for feelings of forgiveness and anything else she might need to be able to move past this.
But Colt was right. She hadn’t yet.
She did still feel ashamed and like she’d done something wrong, while intellectually she knew she hadn’t.
“Come on, Zuke,” she said to the baby, and she lifted the seat and went inside.
Clara Jean stood at the kitchen counter unpacking the brown paper bags Colt had left there. “Who brought this?” she asked. Her gaze darted over to Elaine and then away again.
“Colt,” she said. “He just left.” Elaine put the still-snoozing baby on the floor and then stood at the other end of the island from Clara Jean. “I can put it all in the fridge.”
“It’s fine.” Clara Jean spoke in a high-pitched voice and turned her back on Elaine.
Alarms went off in her head, and she watched her cousin until she’d folded both bags and tucked them away under thekitchen sink, where she kept her other reusable shopping bags. “What’s wrong, Clara Jean?”
Aunt Whitney had dark eyes and hair, and she’d passed those dominant genes on to all of her kids. Clara Jean’s hair was practically black, and it looked messy from where she’d been sleeping. She quickly ran her fingers through it, her eyes wide.
“It’s just…we have a doorbell camera.”
Elaine’s breath seized in her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a monotone and wooden. “I didn’t know. I thought going out on the porch would be quieter for you.”
“It’s fine,” Clara Jean said, waving away her concern. “I was awake.” Her eyes moved everywhere around the kitchen, and that told Elaine everything she needed to know. Well, almost everything. “How much did you hear?” she asked.
“A lot of it,” Clara Jean said.
Elaine looked down at the light gray countertop, at an even bigger loss now. “I just don’t know what to do,” she said.
“I could maybe try to help you,” Clara Jean offered hopefully. “I mean, if I really knew why you and Brandt broke up.”
Elaine looked up, and Clara Jean blinked rapidly. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything, obviously. You can tell me whatever you want.”
Elaine nodded and wondered if God had opened this door between her and Clara Jean, so Elaine could start to talk about that night, experimenting with the words and the order they needed to go in. Maybe then, she could finally tell her mother, and Conrad, and anyone else who needed to know what had really happened between her and Brandt.
No, what had happenedtoher.
She wasn’t sure about God’s hand in this afternoon’s development, but she was willing to give Clara Jean a try, because a teeny, tiny voice in the back of her head told her thatuntil she moved past this, she wouldn’t be able to explore that spark she felt with Colt.
37
Tyson Greene switched his attention toward the door. “Momma’s here,” he said.
