“I wasn’t always so surefooted,” she said in a whisper. “I did have doubts, and I’m so ashamed of what I let happen.”
He shook his head. “It can’t be that bad.”
Pulling away, she headed to the refrigerator to pour two glasses of juice. Then she found the cookie jar and placed two fresh oatmeal cookies on a napkin for Nick. “It’s so bad, I’m still ashamed to talk about it. Nick, Sonny embezzled funds from the bank he managed, and when the authorities found out…he committed suicide in his fancy car.”
Nick could only stand there staring at her. The background check had only listed her as a bankrupt widow, just as she’d told him. “Myla, I had no idea.”
“No, how could you? No one did. We went to church every Sunday, we had a nice ranch house in the country. We had everything. But it was all a sham. Sonny only played at being a Christian. He used church for networking and finding new clients. And when that didn’t bring in enough money, he turned to crime.
“He had this obsessive need to always have more. More money, more power, all of the latest things—cellular phones, computers, any kind of gadget that would make him look successful. He never spent much time with the children—he had very little patience with them—but then he’d buy them all sorts of expensive toys to win their affection after he’d treated them badly. And I…I was so blind, so convinced that I had to work harder, try harder to be the perfect little wife, I didn’t see that he was suffering, until it was too late. I never wanted more money or things. I wanted more of him, emotionally. But he couldn’t give me that. And I didn’t do anything to save him.”
“But it’s not your fault—”
“Yes,” she said, bobbing her head. “Yes, it is. And I’ve been running ever since. From my family, because they blame me. From my so-called friends, because they can’t be seen with me anymore. From myself, because I can’t stand to look in the mirror each day. I had to protect my children, and that’s the only thing that kept me going, until that night when I realized I wasn’t alone.” Looking up at him, she said, “Then, not too long after that night, I found you.”
He turned to stand beside her as they both stared out into the bleak winter night. “So you’ve been struggling with this, all this time?”
She took a sip of juice, then set the glass down. “I kept thinking I should have done something to help Sonny.”
“Help him? What could you have done?”
She turned, both hands braced on the counter. “I should have followed my instincts when I suspected something was wrong. But Sonny was hard to deal with even on a good day. He’d threaten me by telling me that I wasn’t a good wife, and that it was my fault he felt so much pressure. Then he’d tell me he’d leave and take the children. I…I began to doubt my own Christianity. I mean, here I’d lived with this man for years and I’d believed he truly felt the same way I did, but he didn’t. He put up this big front, but it was all an act. And I was too afraid to do anything about it, so I did what I had to, to protect my children.”
“Why did you marry him?”
“I loved him, and I wanted a family. Sonny promised me we’d have a good life. He came from a wealthy family—his parents always overindulged him—and I’d never had very much. It seemed like a dream. And turned into a nightmare. After he…after he died, I found out there was no money, no insurance, and most of the expensive things he’d bought got repossessed, right along with my house.”
She faced him squarely now, her pride gone right along with all the fancy possessions and high hopes she’d once had. “I will always remember the day they came and locked up my house. The bank officer had been a friend of ours. He kept telling me how sorry he was, but he didn’t really offer to make things any better. He was just doing his job.”
“You don’t forget that feeling, you don’t forget the scorn and pity you see on people’s faces. Ever. That’s why, this time I intend to do things my way, with the help of the Lord. I won’t ever let anyone make me doubt myself or my faith again.”
Nick leaned close, his gaze sweeping her face. Unable to see his expression completely in the muted light, Myla waited, wondering if he, too, would turn away in disgust. But he didn’t. Instead, he placed his hands on her face, his touch as soft as the moonlight, and then he kissed her.
The touch of his lips on hers was gentle, yet powerful. No one had reached out to her like this in a very long time. A soft, secure warmth spread through her, blocking out the cold night and the bad memories. As much as she needed this, Myla was still afraid to give in to the myriad feelings coursing through her system. She couldn’t let herself become too dependent on this man’s kindness.
Nick felt her tense up, heard the defeat in her soft sigh. Cupping his hands on her shoulders, he stared down at her. “You don’t have to doubt me, Myla. I know I was completely indifferent when we met, but I’ve changed a lot since then. I want to help you through this.”
She touched his face with her hand, hope warring with despair in her mind. “I know you do. And you can, with your money, with your connections, but don’t you see—that’s the kind of help Sonny provided. He took care of me materially, but he was never there with me spiritually. I won’t be a burden to anyone again. And I won’t commit to anyone who can’t go the distance with me. Right now, I’m still too battered to take things any further, Nick.”
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