Page 50 of The Jade Stone Sleuth

She looked away. She wasn’t ready for that deep of a soul-searching gaze. Her insides were too muddled.

Her faith should be soaring. Their Father above had answered her prayer and kept Brex safe. But even with that miracle at the forefront of her mind, her faith had some holes punched in it. Not her faith in God, but her faith in Brex, in her lifelong friends, and even in herself.

How could Jane have murdered two men and tried to kill Brex? How had Clara fallen desperately in love with a man who was playing a part for a security detail? Which part of their fledgling relationship had been real and what had been fabricated for his undercover job?

She hugged herself, chilled despite the eighty-degree morning, and horribly confused.

They had to go into the police station and she endured many, many questions about Brex, Weston, Jane, and all of her previous boyfriends’ deaths. It dredged up pain and more questions. For years now she’d thought finding the murderer would resolve so much anguish but it had only brought more.

She also remembered right before she met Brex she’d been determined not to have another boyfriend, to keep the man safe. She’d blown past that parameter, but now it was her heart that wasn’t safe.

Finally, the police released her to her parents’ care. Her mom fussed over her as they took her home, trying to talk her out of flying out in the morning. That was the only thing she couldsee clearly. She needed to go on her mission trip, forget about herself and serve others. Brex would go to Venezuela. Would they ever come together? She honestly didn’t know. She prayed, but her faith felt lacking.

She was able to get a breather from her mom as she took a shower and started packing for her trip. Usually she’d have a suitcase out a week in advance and add things to it as she thought of them, but she’d been too focused on Brex. She felt empty inside thinking about being away from him. She did love him, but the hurt and questions overrode the love she thought they were developing. He’d dated her for the job and even though he claimed to need her, after the job in Venezuela he’d go back to his high-dollar life and the upscale people in San Diego. He’d probably become enamored with super models and actresses again, realizing Clara hadn’t been what he was searching for. The gulf between them was too large, even if she could forgive and forget.

The doorbell rang upstairs. Clara’s insides tightened and her stomach gave a happy pitch. Was it Brex? She wanted it to be, but she was terrified to talk to him. How could she claim to be a Christian and not forgive him? Yet the Savior wouldn’t ask her to put herself in a hurtful relationship. She had to figure out how to forgive him but not let her heart be entangled with his. That hurt. She loved him and wanted her heart to be entangled with his.

The doorbell rang again. She wasn’t getting it.

Tears streaked down her face just thinking about Brex. She was in an impossible tangle. She had to get away from here. Her mission trips were always rejuvenating and rewarding but she usually had a hard time leaving her family, friends, and valley behind. Not this time. Tomorrow morning couldn’t come soon enough.

Footsteps descended the stairs, then a soft rap sounded on her door.

“Yes?” she managed, wiping ferociously at her tears and pasting on a fake smile as her mom opened the door.

“Brex is here to see you, love.” Her mom looked hopeful, as if Brex could make everything better.

“Thanks. I’ll be right up.” She nodded and thankfully her mom didn’t wait for her.

Clara hurried into her bathroom, brushed her teeth, splashed water on her face, and studied her red-rimmed eyes and mottled skin in the mirror. She should put on some makeup, but Brex had never seemed to care that she wasn’t dolled up. Yet his focus before coming here was status, appearance, and a beautiful women on his arm. She put on some mint lip gloss, said a prayer to know how to deal with this situation and have God’s insight and confidence in herself, and forced herself to walk up the stairs.

Brex was in the entryway, alone, waiting for her. His deep brown eyes lit up as he saw her. “Clara.” He rushed to her and gathered her in his arms. “Are you all right?”

“Not really,” she admitted. She clung to him for a few beats, then she forced herself to be strong. She pushed out of his arms and backed up, bumping into the wall.

Brex’s gaze became wary. He flicked his wrist and glanced at his watch. She wanted to tease him about needing to be somewhere, but there was no tease in her. Her heart was breaking in two. Could he heal her heart? Not if she didn’t trust him.

She looked at his bicep and the large bandage on it. “Stitches?”

“Only three.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” He shook his head and brushed at his hair. “You are the only person who should not be sorry.” His gaze deepened, and he took a step closer. “I’m sorry, Clara. So very sorry.”

She studied him and then finally managed to say, “I know you are.”

“Can we fix this?”

“I don’t know, Brex.” She folded her arms around her midsection. “Not easily. Not today.” She swallowed. “Maybe after your job in Venezuela and my trip to Angola, we can talk.”

But what would talking do? All she knew was she needed some time and space. Even as she looked at him, she wanted to have him hold her close, kiss her deeply. But that wouldn’t solve anything. Brex didn’t date women like her. They’d been thrown together because of his job and it had all been fake. Her heart hurt.

He didn’t say anything to her suggestion.

“When do you fly out?” she asked.

“Aiden’s jet is waiting for me in San Diego. I’ve got to drive home and unload everything, pack up and go.”

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