Unspoken (33 page)

She was embarrassed by her quick emotions, both happy and sad—she cried over movies and books, and often he’d catch her struggling with some tears after her Sunday afternoon calls with her sister. But in some ways he was glad for those tears. Marriage had changed more than her name and where she lived. It had put her in a permanent place. It was safe to feel emotions here. For the first time he thought she was letting her emotions show without the buffers of always having to be in control. It was a good sign. It told him in small ways she was continuing to heal, was accepting him as her husband, and trusting him to see the emotions.

Those whispered words
I’m broken
told him everything he needed to know about his wife’s perception of herself. She was wrong. She’d survived. If anything, that fact showed she was too strong to be broken. He desperately needed to change the way she saw herself.

He had another hour before he expected to hear her stirring. He needed a plan to court his wife. An old-fashioned word, but one he thought suited matters. He was going to be in love with her long before she got near that point with him, but he was a patient man when it mattered. She was simply nice to live with, and he wanted the rest of what marriage would give them. He was married to the lady he wanted to spend a lifetime with—now he just had to win her heart and get her comfortable trusting him.

She had to trust his love to be strong enough to deal with her past, strong enough to hear the truth and still accept her. She was his wife. His beloved and truly lovely wife. He wondered how long it was going to take before he could get her to see herself as he saw her. Patience was a good virtue, and never more necessary than now.

Bryce tightened the laces on his tennis shoes.

“Where do you go to run?”

He glanced over to see Charlotte coming into the kitchen.

“The university track. It’s one of the perks for the alumni—we’re free to use the track during hours it’s not being used by the university.” He wasn’t getting much done in the office, he needed a break, and a few miles around the track would chase out some cobwebs.

“I wouldn’t mind coming with you as long as we don’t try to run together. Our strides are too different.”

“Yeah? I’d like that.”

“Give me five minutes to change.” She lightly ran upstairs.

Bryce added extra water bottles to his gym bag.

When they reached the track he put the gym bag on a bleacher bench and began to stretch.

Charlotte looked around the large track and smiled her appreciation. “I can see why you enjoy this place. Let me know when you’re ready to call it a day. I run like a tortoise, so I expect you’ll lap me a few times.” She put on earphones, turned on the music, and took off at a slow and steady run.

John walked over. “You can safely leave the wallet, keys, and phone. I’ve got some phone calls to return, but I’ll be around. I told Ellie we’d swing by and pick up the dogs on the way back from here. I would have brought them with me, but she insisted they deserved a visit to the dog spa for a shampoo, hair and nail trim after a few weeks running around at the lake.”

Bryce smiled. “We’ll enjoy having them. Charlotte hasn’t said, but I know she’s been missing them. Sure you don’t want to run with me?”

“I’ll pass for today.”

Bryce nodded and hit the track with a plan to do twelve laps for three miles. He waved at Charlotte the first time he passed her, the second time he slowed to run with her for a bit, the third time he ran backwards a few steps until she laughed and pushed him on. He settled into a steady run and felt himself relax.

Bryce looked back to the track, where Charlotte was still steadily running. He and John had been talking for almost an hour. He’d done his three miles and cooled down. She was at more than five miles now even at her slower pace.

“She’ll go until someone tells her stop,” John mentioned. “She’s a natural marathoner; she just doesn’t like the crowds
at the events.” John stepped into the track as she came around the curve and gave her the cut-off signal.

She tugged off the earphones.

“Cool down, Charlotte.”

“How about a race, four laps?”

“Nope.”

“Chicken.”

John laughed.

“Two laps.”

He picked up a towel and tossed it on the track.

“Time me then. Two laps.” She took off.

She did two laps at speed, then slowed and walked half a lap, jogged back. “I like this track. It’s got a friendly surface, a bit of spring, and not much slant.”

“You were zoning out with the music,” Bryce observed, handing her a towel.

“Best way to run. Start your feet moving and think about something else.”

“How many laps did you do?”

“No idea. Enough I got some kinks out and enjoyed the run. We should do this more often, Bishop.”

“We should. I enjoyed watching you.”

She laughed and tossed the towel at him.

Bryce brushed his teeth and then shut off the bathroom light. One of the dogs had curled up on the rug beside the bed. “Hey, Duchess.” The tail slap on the floor told him he had guessed right. He knelt to rub the dog’s coat. One of the dogs would join Charlotte, the other would join him. He still had to watch them for a moment to tell them apart. Princess was sleeker, had a narrower face, and a more deliberate walk. Duchess was a little heavier, had more inquisitive eyes, and
liked to bound from place to place in a hurry. He liked having them around.

“I wondered if she had retreated up here.”

He glanced to the doorway to see Charlotte had joined him. “She’s good company.”

“Princess is asleep by the couch downstairs.” Charlotte was carrying a handful of cookies and held out her hand to share.

He took two. “Thanks.”

He moved to the closet. He set out his choice of suit and tie for Sunday morning, checked to make sure his shoes were polished, added breath mints and cough drops to the pocket, the routine of small things he did on Saturday night before he taught.

Charlotte curled up in her chair.

He glanced over at her, curious about what was on her mind. He poured a mug from the carafe he had brought upstairs, added honey to the hot tea. “You sure you don’t want to try this? You might like the taste.”

“No, thanks. It keeps your voice from growing hoarse?”

“Maybe at the margins. It’s more habit than anything.”

“Do you need to review your lesson for tomorrow?”

“No. It’s nearly memorized now.” He settled against the pillows against the headboard, drank the tea, set aside the mug. He folded his hands across his chest and let himself relax. She was awake, on the edge of restless, and he was glad she had chosen to join him. He didn’t try to break the silence, simply shared the time.

She drew her legs up in her familiar fashion, resting her chin on her knees. “I think I want to tell you something, but every time I get to the words I hesitate.”

“You can wait until you’re sure.”

“I’m just giving myself a headache chasing the idea around in circles. If I tell you, will you keep it to yourself?”

“Yes.”

She still hesitated, and the quiet stretched between them. He didn’t know how to make this moment easier on her. As the silence lengthened, as she started to speak and stopped, he expected her to shake her head, get up and leave, unable to take the step.

Her arms around her knees suddenly tightened, and she looked over at him. “There was a third man. He whispered, ‘I’m a cop. I will kill your sister if you mention me.’ The next day cops broke in, shot the two men, and rescued me.”

The silence in the room absorbed the words and made them unsaid again. Bryce didn’t feel much like breathing.

“Maybe he lied about being a cop,” she whispered. “Maybe he was the cop in the wreck, and he’s dead now. Or maybe someone else is still out there who does carry a badge. It was only the two of them in the van with Tabitha and me. The third man showed up at the house later. I don’t know when. Sometimes I think he was always there. Sometimes I think it was just before the end.” She was crying now, silently, her dripping tears turning a spot on her jeans dark.

He moved, he risked her retreating from the conversation, but she couldn’t take much more of this memory. Bryce rose, picked up the blanket folded at the foot of the bed, and draped it around her, hunkered down beside the chair and mopped her face with his handkerchief. Her gaze caught and held his. The simple misery in the depths of her eyes broke his heart. He brushed her hair back from her face. “Tabitha is safe. John has excellent security around her.”

“I know.”

“And you are safe with me, Charlotte.”

“I know that too.”

She was a sketch artist. If she could remember a face, John would be drowning in sketches of the man. So she had only a voice and the memory of what he had said. And without
knowing for certain the man was dead, was no longer a threat, she had no choice but to keep silent.

“Let the book say whatever it’s going to say. You don’t talk about it. You haven’t in the past. You don’t now. You can’t take the risk.”

She nodded. “That’s what I’ve always concluded. I don’t talk about it.”

He eased open her clenched hand. She’d lived with that decision as the only one she could make for the last nineteen years. He would have read about the cop in the book, but not heard the rest of it. She was risking the rest of it with him. He felt physically sick at the news, and she didn’t look relieved to have shared it.

“John’s always known, but I haven’t told Ellie much of it. Tabitha has no idea.”

“Why did you tell me?”

“A lifetime together is a long time. I think it’s easier on me if I don’t have to carry the added weight of you not knowing.”

She was offering a great deal of trust. He carefully brushed back her hair so he could better see her face. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re going to regret knowing. And I don’t think I can say anything more than what I just told you.”

“I’ll never regret you trusting me, Charlotte. What do you say we go downstairs for an hour? We can start a movie while you let a couple of Tylenol kill that headache. There’s no need trying to sleep while this memory is clouding your thoughts.”

She wiped her eyes again, nodded.

Before he let her up from the chair, he made her a promise. “Charlotte, I won’t ask. But I’ll listen. Whatever you want to say, whenever you want to say it, I’ll listen.”