A Man's Heart

Washington State

J
ules's breath caught in her throat. The lights in The Grille dimmed; heat rushed to her cheeks. She had to run. She had to get out of here! Sliding out of the booth, she fled.

“Jules!”

“I'm sorry! I'm so sorry …” Her breath came in ragged spurts.
Poor Cruz.
Why would she do this to him a second time? She loved him. She adored him, but she couldn't marry him. Not tomorrow. She needed more time. She couldn't be married, help Pop run the farm and go back to college. She wasn't Superwoman.

“Jules! Hold it right there!” The force in Cruz Delgado's tone stopped her dead in her tracks.

Drawing a deep breath, she held to the door frame. Jukebox music filled the background. Don William's voice in the background sang something about “some broken hearts never mend.” She sensed Cruz stalk toward her.
Think of a sane reason, Julianne Matias, some logical, justifiable circumstance that you would walk away from this man a second time.
Visions of
the hours and previous months that she'd spent winning back his confidence formed a gray aura around her.

His surprisingly gentle touch stopped her plight. Closing her eyes, she allowed him to lead her out of the local watering hole to the parking lot. Bitter cold air caught her breath and she took deep drafts of foggy night air.

“It's okay, sweetheart. It's just a panic attack—”

Just!
She shrugged free, fighting a sense of impending doom. The kind of dread that some terrible calamity was about to befall her. “Sorry … I can't, Cruz—”

“We've been through this a hundred times, Jules.” His impatient tone penetrated her angst. “What's wrong now?”

“Nothing's wrong. I realize I needed more time.”

His eyes pinpointed her. Hurt filled their depths. “What do I have to do, Jules? How do I prove that I love you—more than life itself?” He turned her around to face him, his breath a vapor in the nippy weather. “You can commit to me. I'm not going to hurt you or abuse your trust.”

Shaking her head, she tried to talk between gasps. “It isn't a matter of trust—”

“Bull!”

“It isn't, Cruz. It's just … not right yet. Pop needs my help —”

“Pop was growing Blue Bayou potatoes long before you were a twinkle in his eye, and he always managed to make ends meet. I can't see how your going back to college now is going to help a blessed thing.”

He was right. Her crazy idea that with more education she could get the farm in better financial shape was crock. She was looking for an excuse out and picked a poor one. She took a couple more deep breaths, squeezing her eyes shut, wishing
the dread away. “I can't explain … I wish that I could, but I can't. It just doesn't feel right …”

“Okay.” He released her so swiftly that she lost footing. A calm hand steadied her. “So the wedding is off again.”

No, not okay!
Her heart screamed the silent rebuke.
Calm.
All she had to do was excuse the panic attack and pretend the incident never happened. They could continue with dinner, talk about last minute wedding preparations. The ceremony was at four o'clock tomorrow afternoon. Sophie's lovely teal blue maid-of-honor dress hung in Jules's closet. The cake was baked; flowers scheduled to be delivered to the church in the morning. She reached out and touched his arm and he drew back. “Please, Cruz …”

“Not this time, Jules.” The street light above the brick building illuminated his face. Anger. Disbelief … disgust played across his rugged features and she couldn't fault him.

“Anytime you think about marrying, a steel gate slams into place. I want marriage, Jules, and kids.”

“And that's what I want.” She held up a pleading hand. “It's exactly what I want, but …” She paused. “The time doesn't feel right.”

“This is the second time you've changed your mind at the last minute,” he snapped.

“I know … I'm sorry. Perhaps in a few months …”

Settling his hat back on his head, he said quietly, “Obviously, you don't know what you want. Your problem, Jules, is you've convinced yourself that you're not capable of making a marriage work. You think since your folks' marriage was a disaster, yours is doomed to suffer the same fate.”

“That's not so.”

“It is so. You got yourself tied in knots thinking if you marry me, we'll end up trying to outshout each other.”

“That's not fair, Cruz.” Especially in view of the fact that her parents' marriage had been a truck wreck. She knew she would never cheat on Cruz like her mother had on her father. The thought would never enter her mind.

“Then what
is
your hang-up?”

“I … need more time to work marriage into my life.” She looked up. “Why do you keep pushing?”

“Pushing?” He shifted stances. “That's what you think I'm doing?
Pushing
you into marriage?”

“What's the all-fired hurry? We're young; we have all of our lives.” Marriage would come. Eventually.

Irony dripped from his eyes and she turned away. “We've been dating since we were teenagers. You're what? Twenty-six now and I'm looking at thirty. I'm tired of waiting for you, Jules.”

She whirled to face him. “You know that deadlines freak me out —”

“Problems,” he corrected. “You have problems with commitment, Jules. That's when you freak.”

“So not true. I commit: the farm, you, staying with Pop after Mom left. I can commit.”

“To a movie, not to me.”

“That's ridiculous.” She drew a deep breath. “Okay. We'll just forget all about this. I'm fine now.” The panic hadn't subsided, but she could do this. She could make herself go through with the wedding this time. Lifting her chin, she smiled. “Let's go finish dinner.”

“You're good now? You're okay?” He slipped on his hat.

“Yes. Thank you.” She loved him and she could commit as well as the next person.

“Okay. Let me know when you can make a commitment and keep it.”

“Now what's that supposed to mean?” The dripping sarcasm in his tone stunned her. She'd just said to forget it. It was only a case of pre-wedding jitters.

“It means that I'm tired of waiting for you to make up your mind whether you love me enough to marry me.”

“That's crazy talk. I adore you. All I'm asking is for a little more time.”

“To go back to college. For four years.”

“Not that much time. I want to go back and complete my education. WSU is doing cutting-edge work in potato nutrition; I talked to a friend and she says I can sign on as a lab assistant—or maybe get special dispensation to do a private study. You know how I love to experiment, and Pop could sure use the help. With an Agricultural Biotechnology degree, I can grow Blue Bayou's business.” She reached out to console him. Her heart ached. She wanted to marry him … she wanted this terrible sense of panic to dissolve.

“Didn't we have this conversation when you went to college the first time?” He started to walk toward his truck.

“Yes, but you didn't object then. And that was for Crop Science.”

“Because ‘then' it was sensible. Now I want to marry you, Jules, and I'm not waiting another four years.” He shook his head. “I don't think so.”

She fell into step, dogging him, anger rising.
“You
don't think so? You're breaking up with me?”

“Take it however you want.”

She reached for the sleeve of his coat. “You can't break up with me.”

“Yeah? Who made that rule?”

“We're getting
married
tomorrow!” She couldn't breathe. Who stole the air? He couldn't walk out on her …

He reached to open the truck door. “I think not.”

“Cruz! You can't do this—what about our friends? The church, Reverend Williams—we'll look like complete fools—stop!” She stepped in front of him. “Stop.” Their eyes locked.

“Step out of the way, Jules.”

“You can't leave—not like this.”

“I'm supposed to stay and let you keep walking out on weddings?”

“I haven't walked out. I'm right here — and I love you.” She reached out to touch him, loving him with her eyes. This was her Cruz. Understanding. Patient. He was always there for her. He understood her.