Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Tears flowed down Clara’s cheeks and she pounded on the steering wheel a few times before she started the engine. She’d never seen anger in Trevor’s eyes, and even if he hadn’t physically abused her, she wasn’t going to live in his world and potentially lose herself. She looked down at her engagement ring and wondered if he would ever place the little band that matched it on her finger. Was this the end of their relationship? When they had both cooled down would he give her an ultimatum—his way or the highway?

She started the engine and drove back to the hotel. By the time she parked, the front of her T-shirt was spotted with teardrops, and they were still coming down like hard rain. She tried to will them to stop, but that didn’t work, so she got out of her car and made her way to the front door, only to find it locked.

Sophia’s car and Hunter’s truck were both parked in the hotel lot, but they wouldn’t hear the doorbell if they were in the courtyard. She wiped her eyes and then turned around and walked around the hotel to the alley in the back. The gate was locked, but she could look through the scroll-work and there was nobody to be seen anywhere.

There seemed to be nothing to do but climb over the fence, so she hooked the toe of her athletic shoe in a space and slowly made her way up. When she flipped over the ornamental top her T-shirt caught on a spike, and she hung there like a rag doll until the T-shirt finally ripped down the front and she fell flat on her back. With the wind knocked out of her, she lay there for several moments, gasping for air. Dust from the concrete flew up around her and then filtered back down to settle on her wet face.

Finally, she was able to sit up and then stand. She pulled up a side of her torn shirt and wiped her eyes, then headed for the dogwood tree that stood right under the balcony to her room. Years ago, when they were teenagers, Sophia had shown her how to climb up the limbs to the balcony, and she figured with the anger that was still boiling inside her, she could do it again. She reached up, grabbed the first limb and, using it like the rung in a jungle gym, swung her body up onto it. Her stomach grumbled, but she assured it that there was food inside the hotel.

The third limb she stepped up on gave way and she had to scramble to get a hold on the next one up. Then it was a matter of hanging there like a monkey at the zoo for several seconds before she could continue the climb.

“Good God!” she heard her sister’s voice above her. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get inside,” Clara answered between pants. “Help me.”

“Go back down and I’ll open the kitchen door,” Sophia said. “What happened to you?”

“I’m not sure I can,” Clara said.

“Then hang on,” Sophia told her. “I’m coming right down. I’ll help you.”

Clara’s hands had started to sweat. She glanced down and determined that the distance to the ground wasn’t any farther than when she’d fallen off the gate. The main difference would be that she had kind of rolled off the fence; letting go of the limb would mean that she would most likely land on her feet. Which could mean she would break or sprain an ankle.

She tightened her grip until the bark on the tree bit into her palms. “I don’t want to wear a cast or a boot to my wedding.”

What wedding?the voice in her head asked.

That was all it took for her to decide to take her chances with a free fall, but then she heard a scraping sound and saw that Sophia was pushing one of the tables under the low limbs of the dogwood tree. “I’ll climb up and grab you around the waist. Don’t let go until I have a good hold or we’ll both fall.”

“Where’s Hunter?” Clara asked.

“Taking a shower,” Sophia said as she managed to get onto the table and reach up to Clara. “Why didn’t you just call me? I would have unlocked the door for you.”

“Crap!” Clara groaned and felt her sister’s arms lock around her waist.

“Literally? Or just a Sunday school swear word?” Sophia asked. “Let go and we’ll both ease down onto the tabletop until you can catch your breath.”

“Sunday cuss word.” Clara felt as if she was back at the Leadership Program she had taken the first year she worked at the bank. She had never quite mastered the art of trusting someone to catch her when she fell from a platform. “I can’t,” she said above a whisper. “What if we both fall off the table and break our necks?”

“Then I guess Mama Lizzy will push us up the aisle in wheelchairs. We had a double stroller when we were babies. Do you think they make double wheelchairs?” Sophia gave a tug.

Clara’s sweaty hands couldn’t hang on another second no matter how hard she gripped. One second she was swinging; the next, her feet were on the table. Sophia let go of her and she sank down into a sitting position and started to sob. Her sister eased down to sit right beside her and wrapped her arms around Clara’s shoulders.

“You are crying mud, girl,” she scolded. “Hush up and talk to me.”

“Trevor and I . . . we . . .” Clara stammered and mentally relived the argument. “We . . . I might not be . . . he can’t.”

“What’s going on down there?” Hunter asked from the balcony.

“I’m not sure, but I know Clara needs me,” Sophia called back up to him.

“Need my help?” Hunter asked.

Clara shook her head.

Hunter covered a yawn with his hand. “Then I’ll take a nap. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks anyway, darlin’.” Sophia smiled at him, but the grin faded when she looked at Clara. “Now, tell me what’s happened. Were you in a car accident? You look like you’ve taken a dirt bath.”

“I climbed over the fence and tore my shirt; then I fell and got the breath knocked out of my body. Someone has got to power wash this courtyard before the wedding. Trevor and I . . .” she wasn’t sure how to begin, “we had a fight.”

Sophia’s hands knotted into fists. “Did he hit you and tear your shirt?”

“No! We just argued,” Clara answered. “I told him about Mama Lizzy’s offer and he said I couldn’t do it. I’m supposed to stay on the ranch, not work outside, and raise kids. I love Trevor, but I’m not that kind of woman. I’m afraid we’ve broken up.”

“If he can’t compromise, you should break up with him, but honey, that man loves you enough that when he thinks about it, he’ll be coming back and wanting to work through the problem,” Sophia told her.

Clara shook her head. “I don’t know about that. He’s pretty upset with me. That surprise I was telling you about is that his folks want to raise his salary to the equivalent of what I make so I can stay home.”

“What on earth would you do all day?” Sophia asked.

A picture popped into her head—making the bed, doing dishes, picking up wet towels. “I guess I’d be waiting on Trevor and then doing some book work for the ranch two or three hours a day.”

“And you said, ‘No, thank you,’ right?” Sophia asked.

“I don’t think I added the thank you,” Clara whispered, and her stomach growled.

“I heard that, and I’m hungry, too,” Sophia said. “Let’s go inside. I’ll make some sandwiches while you take a shower and get cleaned up. Then we can talk some more. But I’m still puzzled about why you didn’t call me.”

“I was so mad, I didn’t even think about it, and my phone was in my hip pocket when I fell on my back, so it might be smashed all to pieces,” Clara replied as she eased off the table and started toward the kitchen door.

Sophia hopped down, beat her to the door, and opened it. “If your phone is ruined, it could be a sign that you don’t need to talk to Trevor for a while.”

Clara pulled the phone from her hip pocket to find the screen was cracked, but it appeared to be working just fine. There was a text from Mama Lizzy saying they’d stopped for lunch on the road and she would send another message when they reached the hotel.

“Nothing from Trevor,” she muttered.

“He’ll come around, but you should stand your ground,” Sophia said and gave her a gentle push toward the lobby. “If you let him talk you into doing something you don’t want to do, your marriage will fall apart anyway because you’ll end up resenting him. Are you definite about taking over the hotel business?”

“I wasn’t, but I am now,” Clara declared as she headed out of the kitchen. She could already tell that by morning she was going to be sore in places she didn’t even know she had. Thank goodness, she had time to heal before the wedding—if there even was one in the cards for her.