The Breaking Point (36 page)

“No. Renee, we need to go south.”

“Why?”

He knew all he had to do was say he’d prayed about it and felt God had told him to go south. But he was so tired. He just didn’t have the energy to explain himself. “Look, hon, I’m more qualified to figure this out than you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her narrowed eyes warned him he was in dangerous territory, but dang it! He was sore and cold and as weary as he ever remembered being. Why couldn’t she just accept he was right without challenging him?

“You have to admit, I’m a little more sensible about these things than you are.”

“Sensible? I’m sensible.”

He pinned her with a glare. “You never should have left the truck, Renee. You should have waited—”

“For what? For us to freeze to death?” She shook her head. “Make sense, Gabe. I couldn’t wait.”

He sighed, fatigue seeping into his soul as well as his body. “Couldn’t, or wouldn’t?” Her arms crossed, and he cut her off before she could vent the irritation he saw brewing
behind those eyes. “Look, can’t you just trust me on this?”

Her silence and her clenched jaw were just too much. “No, you can’t, can you? You don’t trust me. You don’t trust anyone.”

“That’s not true—”

“Yes, it is.” He rubbed a weary hand over his face. “I’ve worked hard to show you that you can trust me, but that doesn’t matter, does it? It never has. What you want I can’t give you.”

“And what is that?”

“Perfection.” He let the word sink in. “You want perfection, Renee. Nothing else will do. You won’t be happy until I’m God.”

Her eyes glistened with angry tears. “That’s not true. I just want you to be you! But you never are, are you? You’re always so busy being who you think everyone wants you to be. At work, at church, in the Bible study. Everywhere but at home, with me.”

“I’ve done everything you asked. Given you everything I can.
You’re
the one who withholds yourself, who flinches every time I come near you. God forbid I should try to touch you.”

The tears overflowed. He expected her to blow up, to rail at him some more, but when she spoke, her voice was hushed, sorrowful. “Yes, Gabe, you have. You’ve given me everything … everything but what matters most.”

She wasn’t making sense! “What are you talking about?”

“You.” The green in her eyes had deepened, as though to emphasize the depth of her emotions. “The real you, beneath all the barriers and armor. You’ve never given me yourself. Don’t you think I can tell?” She held a hand out to him, and the entreaty pierced his heart. “Don’t you think I know you still hold a part of yourself back, just in case? That you don’t trust me?”

He wanted to reach out, to take her hand in his. But he couldn’t. He turned away from her, trapped in confusion and silence.

Renee stood staring at Gabe’s back. A powerful urge swept her to go to him, to touch him, to form some kind of bridge in the one way she knew he would be able to accept.

Physical contact had always been the most effective way to reach Gabe. He craved being touched, needed it to feel grounded, to feel a part of her, of them. She’d learned that long ago.

And you’ve always resisted it.

Anger flared to life.
Why shouldn’t I, when he won’t
give me
what I need? Emotional connections are more important than the physical could ever be. Everyone knows that!

More important for you, perhaps. But not for Gabe. Never for Gabe.

It’s not fair!

I haven’t called you to fairness, child, but to obedience. You know what you need to do. Will you do it?

Renee let her surrender ease out on a deep sigh. Yes. She would do it. But just as she started to step forward, he spun to face her.

She backpedaled at the cold hopelessness in his eyes.

“You want it all, don’t you, Renee? You actually think you deserve it. Well, guess what? You don’t.”

She hugged herself, but her arms were little protection from the words pelting her.

“You’re so quick to withhold trust, but what have you done to show me
you
can be trusted? All you do is criticize, harp that I’m not doing or being what you want and need. But no one could! Not even
God
could live up to your expectations.”

She closed her eyes against the fury on his face, in his voice. “Stop it.”

“Oh, you talk a good game. You say all the right things and you look so righteous on the surface, but I’ve seen it over
and over. You talk about trust, but you don’t live it. You never have. You don’t trust anyone, Renee. Not even God.”

His haunted gaze was fixed on her, the pain so clear in his pinched features that a part of her longed to walk to him, to smooth his brow with her fingers and restore the smile he’d worn before she let her mouth get out of control.

But he wouldn’t be open to her now. Why should he be? She’d chosen her attack carefully, known just what to say to cut and wound. Well, she’d done a bang-up job.

Lord God, will I ever learn? What is it going to take—

Die.

This time, the word struck home. She’d asked God to speak to her, to show her what she was withholding from Gabe, from Him. And He was telling her.

She held a hand out to Gabe, then let it fall. “I … I’m sorry. I need some time.” She turned and walked away.

Bo’s leash was still in her hand, so the husky had no choice but to follow her as she walked. But he kept looking back over his shoulder, as though to ask where Gabe was.

Renee just kept walking until she was alone, isolated. She came to a large, snow-dusted rock and sat, tugging Bo forward until he came to rest his head on her knee. She pulled off her mittens and buried her fingers in his luxurious fur, seeking comfort from his warmth.

But there was precious little comfort with Gabe’s words pounding at her.

It’s never enough … you don’t trust anyone … not even God.

She lowered her head to press her face against Bo’s back as the voice of conviction struck its mark, slicing through until she bowed her head in surrender and let memory after memory sweep over her.

And as they did so, she could no longer hide from the painful truth: Gabe was right. And she was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

J
ULY
1993

FIREWORKS EXPLODED IN THE SKY, BRILLIANT COLORS
splashing across the canvas of darkness, but Renee couldn’t enjoy the show.

She was too focused on Gabe. On waiting for the fireworks to really explode. His fireworks.

They’d been getting together like this for a couple of months now.
Trust building
, Steve called it.

She thought it was like dating.

Gabe thought it was ridiculous.

At least, he’d thought so at first. He made no secret of the fact that the rules their counselor had set up chafed at Gabe like prickly heat. Picking Renee up at the front door of the apartment or meeting her at some emotionally neutral spot, not being alone together in an intimate setting, not being allowed to go into his own home …

He hated it. Told her once it was about as weird as it got.

But he agreed to it. And that surprised her. Almost as much as the fact that he seemed to grow more at peace with the situation as time went on. And each time they were together, it was less tense. Less stressful. Maybe Gabe finally understood all this was necessary, that they had to start over, build trust and respect.

That he was willing to do so meant a great deal to her. Usually. But right now …

Well, right now all she wanted to do was get up from the blanket they were sitting on, find her car, and flat get outta Dodge.

When Gabe suggested last week that they celebrate the Fourth of July together, she’d thought it was a great idea. And the day had gone well. They met early to watch the parade, then went to the big carnival the city held every year in the park. Renee felt young and carefree, and when Gabe took her hand as they walked from booth to booth, their troubles seemed miles away.

But they weren’t. They’d been hiding there all along, just under the surface, waiting to jump out and nail her. Which they’d done a few minutes ago when Gabe turned to put his arm around her as they watched the fireworks display. She hadn’t meant to stiffen, to pull away. Maybe it was just that she was tired. Or that the falling darkness had created a feeling of intimacy, of closeness that she wasn’t prepared for.

Whatever the reason, the minute his arm circled her, she recoiled.

And the minute she did that, Gabe exploded.
Exploded?
her conscience nudged at her. Okay, so maybe not. But he’d still gotten angry—

Angry?

Okay, frustrated. Like there was any difference.

There is. A big difference. And you know it.

Fine, but I’m not the one sitting here, staring down at the blanket, my face all tense. I’m not the one about to start yelling … ranting …

Gabe finally looked up from the ground and at her. She tensed.
Here it comes.

“I’m sorry.”

Renee blinked. That was it? No blowup? She looked into his eyes and saw hurt there, some frustration. But no rage. No anger.

“It seemed like we were getting along so well …” He looked away. “I just wanted to be close to you.”

“We are close. We’re sitting together on a blanket.”

His steady gaze only confirmed what her conscience was telling her: The sarcastic comment was careless. Uncalled for.

Gabe considered her for a moment, as though trying to understand what was going on in her head. Once he figured it out, she hoped he’d let her know, too.

His sigh was quiet, but heavy. “Maybe we’d better go. Or at least I’d better go.” He started to stand.

Irritation put her mouth in motion. “Oh, fine. One little disagreement and you want to bail?”

Gabe sat down again and leaned toward her, his jaw tight. He drew in a deep breath. But when he spoke, the words were soft, almost gentle. “What do you want from me, Renee?”

A multitude of answers flooded her mind: Love me.
Forgive me. Be patient with me. Help me understand myself.
But she couldn’t get any of that out. She was so tangled up inside, all she could do was wrap her arms around herself.

He watched her in silence, then reached out to touch her arm. This time she didn’t pull away. She just sat there, blinking fast.

“Look, I’m not angry. But I think it would be best for both of us if I head home.”

She looked up, begged him with her eyes to stay He shook his head. “I think you need some time … to yourself. Okay?”

Renee swallowed hard, then nodded. He squeezed her arm, then stood and walked away.

She covered her face with her hands. What was wrong with her? They’d been doing so well. Why couldn’t she just relax and enjoy it? Why did she have to sit here, like a hawk hanging on a wire, watching Gabe for some sign of anger, some hint that things were going to turn unpleasant?