Ray’s chest tightened. He planned to marry her, and she didn’t even think they were a couple?
She raised a twitchy smile. “We decided to be discreet, remember?”
He set his plate on the table, helped Helen to her seat, and leaned down to her ear. “Discretion I understand; secrecy I don’t.”
“Secrecy?”
“In private everything’s great, but in public you treat me like an acquaintance at best.”
Her shoulders squirmed in his grasp. “I don’t . . . I just . . . it’s so early.”
Two months was too early? He drank in a deep breath, took his seat, and leaned his forearms on his knees. “You don’t want anyone to know about us, but they already do.”
She smashed a chunk of cake under her fork tines. “I know. Oh dear.”
His throat hardened. How could he keep the stoniness from his voice? “Are you ashamed of me?”
She swung her gaze to him. “Ashamed? Oh goodness, no. I could never—”
“That’s what it looks like. You were married to a hero, and now you’re stuck with a cowardly supply clerk.”
She sucked in her breath. “Oh, Ray, I never—”
“I need to know.” He locked a firm gaze on her. “I’m serious about you, and I need to know whether I’m just someone to keep you company until this blasted war is over and the heroes come home.”
Her mouth flew open as if he’d punched her in the gut. “I could never. I’m not like that.”
“Why don’t you want to be seen with me?”
Her head shook in tiny tremors. “It’s not like that. Really, it isn’t.”
He held out open hands to her. “So let me show how much I care for you. Hold my hand. Dance with me two, three, four songs in a row.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. “Please don’t.”
Ray stared at his hands. They’d always be empty, wouldn’t they?
“I need to go.” He got up and walked away, his mouth frozen in a polite smile to mask the steam roiling inside. He needed a swim as never before.
“Please don’t go.” Slender fingers clutched his arm. “Ray, please.”
“I’m tired. I’m going home.”
Redness rimmed Helen’s lovely eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’m not ashamed of you. You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever known, but everyone’s watching, and I—I don’t know how to act anymore.”
“How to act?”
She pressed her hand to her forehead. “I don’t know anymore. Everyone in town wants me to be the brave little widow, and the Carlisles want me to mourn for the rest of my life, and you want me to . . .”
Ray curled one finger under her chin. “Stop worrying about everyone else. When you figure out what you want, come and tell me.” He turned to go, but her grip tightened.
“I’m sorry. I want to be with you. I do.”
“I’m sorry too—sorry I pushed too hard, but maybe we should—”
“Please. Would you please—please ask me to dance again? I really want to be in your arms right now. I’d be glad to, honored to dance with you, all night even.”
Maybe Dad was right and Ray was weak, but the pleading look in those brown eyes got to him, and he led her to the dance floor and folded her in his arms.
However, heaviness weighed down his heart. What was going on under the pinned-up honey-blonde curls pressed to his cheek? Why did she let the Carlisles control her? She even let her son control her.
What on earth had he gotten himself into? Despite what Helen said, she didn’t know what she wanted, did she?
In his mind, Ray shoved his plans into the rubbish can.
12
Tension coiled like a snake, and Helen treaded softly as Ray walked her home, a vital skill she’d learned in her marriage.
Sometimes the snake slithered away, and sometimes he struck.
At Helen’s front door, moonlight illuminated the sympathy in Ray’s eyes and the hurt behind it. He sighed. “I owe you an apology. I care about you a lot, but I rushed things. You’re not ready for dating. I need to step back and give you time.”
Her heart
She raised a twitchy smile. “We decided to be discreet, remember?”
He set his plate on the table, helped Helen to her seat, and leaned down to her ear. “Discretion I understand; secrecy I don’t.”
“Secrecy?”
“In private everything’s great, but in public you treat me like an acquaintance at best.”
Her shoulders squirmed in his grasp. “I don’t . . . I just . . . it’s so early.”
Two months was too early? He drank in a deep breath, took his seat, and leaned his forearms on his knees. “You don’t want anyone to know about us, but they already do.”
She smashed a chunk of cake under her fork tines. “I know. Oh dear.”
His throat hardened. How could he keep the stoniness from his voice? “Are you ashamed of me?”
She swung her gaze to him. “Ashamed? Oh goodness, no. I could never—”
“That’s what it looks like. You were married to a hero, and now you’re stuck with a cowardly supply clerk.”
She sucked in her breath. “Oh, Ray, I never—”
“I need to know.” He locked a firm gaze on her. “I’m serious about you, and I need to know whether I’m just someone to keep you company until this blasted war is over and the heroes come home.”
Her mouth flew open as if he’d punched her in the gut. “I could never. I’m not like that.”
“Why don’t you want to be seen with me?”
Her head shook in tiny tremors. “It’s not like that. Really, it isn’t.”
He held out open hands to her. “So let me show how much I care for you. Hold my hand. Dance with me two, three, four songs in a row.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. “Please don’t.”
Ray stared at his hands. They’d always be empty, wouldn’t they?
“I need to go.” He got up and walked away, his mouth frozen in a polite smile to mask the steam roiling inside. He needed a swim as never before.
“Please don’t go.” Slender fingers clutched his arm. “Ray, please.”
“I’m tired. I’m going home.”
Redness rimmed Helen’s lovely eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’m not ashamed of you. You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever known, but everyone’s watching, and I—I don’t know how to act anymore.”
“How to act?”
She pressed her hand to her forehead. “I don’t know anymore. Everyone in town wants me to be the brave little widow, and the Carlisles want me to mourn for the rest of my life, and you want me to . . .”
Ray curled one finger under her chin. “Stop worrying about everyone else. When you figure out what you want, come and tell me.” He turned to go, but her grip tightened.
“I’m sorry. I want to be with you. I do.”
“I’m sorry too—sorry I pushed too hard, but maybe we should—”
“Please. Would you please—please ask me to dance again? I really want to be in your arms right now. I’d be glad to, honored to dance with you, all night even.”
Maybe Dad was right and Ray was weak, but the pleading look in those brown eyes got to him, and he led her to the dance floor and folded her in his arms.
However, heaviness weighed down his heart. What was going on under the pinned-up honey-blonde curls pressed to his cheek? Why did she let the Carlisles control her? She even let her son control her.
What on earth had he gotten himself into? Despite what Helen said, she didn’t know what she wanted, did she?
In his mind, Ray shoved his plans into the rubbish can.
12
Tension coiled like a snake, and Helen treaded softly as Ray walked her home, a vital skill she’d learned in her marriage.
Sometimes the snake slithered away, and sometimes he struck.
At Helen’s front door, moonlight illuminated the sympathy in Ray’s eyes and the hurt behind it. He sighed. “I owe you an apology. I care about you a lot, but I rushed things. You’re not ready for dating. I need to step back and give you time.”
Her heart
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