The Breaking Point (15 page)

Renee bowed her head. How had her marriage—a relationship she’d always longed for, something she’d always believed would be a strong, solid haven—become a constant battleground, a place of despair and sorrow, anger and resentment?

She pressed her face into her knees as the answer presented itself. How had they gone so wrong? By taking one wrong step at a time. And if there was one thing she and Gabe knew how to do, it was take wrong steps.

Big ones.

Again and again.

S
EPTEMBER
, 1978

THIS COULD NOT BE HAPPENING.

Renee stared at her desk, taking in box after box of envelopes and stack upon stack of printed letters. A mailing! It had to be. But she’d just done two of them in the last month!

She turned to stare at her supervisor. “Don’t tell me …”

Candy leaned against the doorjamb between the reception room, where Renee’s desk sat front and center, and the hallway leading to the offices. “Yup. Another mailing. Sorry about that. I know how much you like stuffing envelopes.”

“Oh yeah, almost as much as I love a good root canal.”

Candy’s glee only made matters worse. But then, why shouldn’t the woman grin like a goon?
She
didn’t have to fold and stuff a bazillion letters, sacrificing her fingers and cuticles to “Dear Old Blue,” as the alumni called the college. All in the hopes of
prying donations from prominent, albeit parsimonious, alumni.

Well, the sooner she got started, the sooner she’d get done. Reaching for the first stack of letters, she pulled it toward her, steeling herself for the mind-numbing tedium of folding, stuffing, and sealing. But try as she might to concentrate, her attention was lured away by a nagging, persistent sound.

Glancing up, she peered out the large picture window at the front of the office. Renee could see practically the whole campus from her desk, which was a huge help on days like today Still … what was that noise? Was someone knocking? No, hammering. Someone was hammering. Renee frowned, scanning the quad until she discovered the source. Her roaming gaze came to a screeching halt.

Oh, my …

There, in front of the women’s dorm, near the concrete benches where Renee and her friends often sat and gabbed, was one of the physical properties workers. The guys who maintained and repaired the buildings. The guys everyone blamed when things broke down and loved when things were fixed.

Renee had seen this particular man before. He was nice looking—kind of handsome, really, in a rugged sort of way. His thick blond hair was on the longish side, just brushing his shirt collar. And though Renee wasn’t overly fond of beards or mustaches, his was close-trimmed and she thought it suited him, gave him a mountain man kind of appeal—Jeremiah Johnson gone suburban.

The mountain man image was supported by the fact that he was almost always alone. From what Renee had seen, most of the other physi props guys hung out together. But she seldom saw this guy with them. Mostly she saw him going from one building to another. Or, sometimes late at night, she’d glance out her dorm window to the stand of trees behind the
building, and she’d see him there, sitting on a picnic table. Alone.

Always alone.

Renee had first noticed his confident stride. He walked like a man who had a purpose, yet was in no hurry to arrive. More than once he’d reminded Renee of a lion, the head of the pack, walking with easy grace, confident he could face down any intruder, defend any territory.

Not that she’d paid
that
much attention to him, of course. He was just like the other guys who walked around campus fixing things, name tags perched on the pockets of their blue shirts. Or so she told herself. It was only because she saw him so often that she noticed he didn’t look that much older than some of her friends. Or that, despite his age, which couldn’t have been that far from hers, she had the distinct impression he wasn’t a student worker. There was something about him—something … old.

They’d never actually spoken. Usually he just gave her the same distant, courteous nod he gave most anyone he passed in the hallways or going from one end of the campus to the other.

Except …

Except for one time.

Renee still didn’t know why, but once, as she had moved past him on her way to class, she looked up, intentionally making eye contact. She had an odd sense of looking for … something. Some answer to the puzzle he’d become in her mind. When their gazes locked, what she saw stopped her cold. Raw emotion, feelings more intense and profound than she’d ever known, stared out at her from those blue eyes, striking deep into her heart in a way she still didn’t understand. The encounter ripped the breath from her lungs and squeezed her heart with some terrible, indefinable … sorrow. That was the only way she could describe it.

She’d felt as though her heart were breaking.

The contact lasted no longer than a heartbeat. Renee didn’t think she could have borne it for any longer than that. With the deep sense that she’d seen something she shouldn’t have, she turned away pretending to call to someone across the quad. But it took a while for her burning cheeks to cool, for her pounding pulse to calm and return to a normal cadence.

She’d seen him once or twice since then, but always from a distance. And—she quirked her lips as she took in the view from the office window—she’d never seen him look quite like this.

He was wielding a sledgehammer, lifting it just above his head then bringing it down on the concrete with smooth, powerful efficiency. His requisite blue shirt lay draped across one of the benches, leaving his torso bare. Even from across the campus Renee could see how the muscles tightened with each lift and swing of the hammer as he worked.

Lift, swing,
wham!
Lift, swing,
wham!
The rhythm was hypnotic, and she could well imagine the concrete had no option but to dissolve beneath that onslaught.

When he paused, letting the hammer come to rest on the ground, Renee jerked her gaze away, blowing out a breath at the surge of heat that surged through her and poured into her cheeks.

“Are you okay?”

She jumped, then spun to stare at Candy. “Okay? Of course. Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’m fine. Why? Don’t I look fine? Well, that doesn’t really matter, does it?” She clenched her teeth to halt the babble.
Smooth, Renee. Really smooth.
She cleared her throat, reaching out to arrange the papers in front of her into a nice, neat pile, then looked up at Candy.

Her supervisor’s face was a study in perplexity. “I guess you look fine. A little flushed … but fine.”

Oh, no! She was looking toward the window!

“You just seemed a bit, I don’t know …distracted, maybe.”

Renee chewed her lip furiously.
Don’t see him … don’t see him …

Candy’s mouth tipped. “Or
mesmerized
, maybe.” When she turned back to Renee, her eyes were dancing. “But that’s silly, huh? Nothing out
there
to catch one’s eye, is there?”

Before Renee could think of a suitable retort, Candy patted her shoulder and moved back to her office. “So, I guess I’ll just leave you to your … um … work, shall I?”

Renee didn’t even reply. She just reached out, lifted the ruler from where it rested on her desk, and gave herself two quick whacks on the top of the head. With a sigh, she dropped the ruler to the desktop and forced her attention back to the task at hand.

Fold, fold, stuff, seal. Fold, fold, stuff, seal. Two down, forty gazillion to go.

Okay, so it wasn’t the most exciting work in the world. So what? Was that any reason to sit there, staring out the window at a stranger like some lovestruck goon gawking at the object of her desire?

Of course not! No matter
how
compelling that object might be.

Renee picked up a pencil and started to doodle. No. Nuh-uh. Nope. She was
not
going to look again. Besides, he was probably gone. She hadn’t heard the hammering since Candy had snuck up behind her, so he must be finished. Good thing, too. Last thing she needed was that incessant pounding to break her concentration. Yup, he’d left. She was sure of it. There wasn’t a sound from outside.

So if he’s gone, what harm could it do to look?

Renee paused, hands poised over the pile of letters. What harm, indeed? Why not just prove to herself that temptation had flown? One quick peek to confirm he was gone, and then right back to work. Right? Right.

She allowed her attention to wander back to the picture window, across the quad, to the dorm, to the benches …

He was there. He stood, relaxed, the sledgehammer leaning against his leg, as he took long drinks from a sports bottle.
Renee sat back in her chair as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped it across his face, stretching his neck, arching his back slightly as though to work out the kinks.

Then, with so little effort that the hammer might as well have been made of balsa, he lifted the tool and went back to work. Renee rested her elbows on the desk, cradling her chin in her hands. It would take nothing less than the building catching fire to make her turn away. Even then, she’d wait until the flames were tickling her toes.

She couldn’t help it. The sheer force of the actions … of the man … captured her. Every motion conveyed controlled power, giving one sure message: Here is a man to be reckoned with.

The ringing of the phone jarred Renee, and she almost fell out of her chair. For the second time that morning, heat surged into her face. Good grief. She was pathetic! He was probably married and had twelve kids.

The morning went straight downhill from there. By lunchtime her fingers were cut and raw from the envelopes, her shoulder was in a permanent cramp from cradling the phone, which seemed to ring nonstop, and her head was making like Ricky Ricardo’s bongo drums. She was ready to draw and quarter the next person who walked in the door. Teeth clenched, she stalked into the break room, jerked the small fridge open, and pulled her lunch out.

“Hey, Renee, wanna join us?”

She shook her head, then grimaced at the pain that ricocheted across her temples. She managed a smile at the petite blonde who pulled a chair out for her at the lunch table. “Thanks, Angie, but I’m going outside. And do me a favor, will you?”

Angie took a bite of her sandwich. “Sure. What?”

“If the phone rings while I’m out—” she pulled the door open—“shoot it.”

Muffled laughter followed her outside, and Renee felt a responding smile trying to ease across her tight facial muscles.
Her tension releasing on a sigh, she lowered herself to the stone wall bordering the walkway to the office.

She ate her lunch, grateful for the quiet, the chance to think. About the future. About where she was going from here. If only every train of thought didn’t lead to the same destination: a certain blond, broad-shouldered mountain man.

She figured later it was because she was distracted that she swallowed wrong. Whatever the reason, her bite of sandwich suddenly caught in her throat, and she found herself coughing, gasping.

“Are you okay?”

She looked up—and nearly fainted. It was him. He stood there, concerned blue eyes looking down at her. She tried to say something, but all that came out was a strangled kind of
“gaaaaa.”

A
small frown creased his brow. “Are you breathing?”

Barely. She tried to say so. Another croak. More coughing. Wonderful. Marvelous. Could she possibly make a better first impression? If only the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

Now, please.

Strong fingers circled her arm and something was pressed into her hand. Renee looked down to find a large cup of water there.